Reflection and Refraction
Supplements to
Vetus Testamentum Edited by the Board of Quarterly
H. M. Barstad – R. P. Go...
269 downloads
1187 Views
2MB Size
Report
This content was uploaded by our users and we assume good faith they have the permission to share this book. If you own the copyright to this book and it is wrongfully on our website, we offer a simple DMCA procedure to remove your content from our site. Start by pressing the button below!
Report copyright / DMCA form
Reflection and Refraction
Supplements to
Vetus Testamentum Edited by the Board of Quarterly
H. M. Barstad – R. P. Gordon – A. Hurvitz G. Knoppers – A. van der Kooij – A. Lemaire C. Newsom – H. Spieckermann J. Trebolle Barrera – H. G. M. Williamson
VOLUME 113
60
chapter two
Reflection and Refraction Studies in Biblical Historiography in Honour of A. Graeme Auld
Edited by
Robert Rezetko, Timothy H. Lim and W. Brian Aucker
LEIDEN • BOSTON 2007
This book is printed on acid-free paper. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data
Reflection and refraction : studies in biblical historiography in honour of A. Graeme Auld / edited by Robert Rezetko, Timothy H. Lim, and W. Brian Aucker. p. cm. — (Supplements to Vetus Testamentum, ISSN 0083-5889 ; v. 113) Includes bibliographical references and indexes. ISBN-13: 978-90-04-14512-2 ISBN-10: 90-04-14512-5 (hardback : alk. paper) 1. Bible. O.T.—Criticism, interpretation, etc. I. Auld, A. Graeme. II. Rezetko, Robert. III. Lim, Timothy H. IV. Aucker, W. Brian. V. Title. VI. Series. BS1171.3.R44 2006 221.6—dc22 2006049031
371.82968'0747'1–dc2 ISSN 0083–5889 ISBN-13: 978 90 04 14512 2 ISBN-10: 90 04 14512 5 © Copyright 2007 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Hotei Publishing, IDC Publishers, Martinus Nijhoff Publishers and VSP. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Brill provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change.
s
PRINTED IN THE NETHERLAND
CONTENTS Acknowledgement ...................................................................... A Tribute to A. Graeme Auld ................................................ Publications of A. Graeme Auld .............................................. Abbreviations ................................................................................
ix xi xv xxv
W. Brian Aucker A Prophet in King’s Clothes: Kingly and Divine Re-Presentation in 2 Kings 4 and 5 ........................................
1
John Barton Historiography and Theodicy in the Old Testament ............
27
George J. Brooke The Books of Chronicles and the Scrolls from Qumran ........
35
Ronald E. Clements A Royal Privilege: Dining in the Presence of the Great King (2 Kings 25.27–30) ..........................................................
49
David J. A. Clines Translating Psalm 23 ................................................................
67
Adrian H. W. Curtis The Just King: Fact or Fancy? Some Ugaritic Reflections ....
81
Philip R. Davies The Trouble with Benjamin ....................................................
93
John Day Gibeon and the Gibeonites in the Old Testament ................ 113 Mary Douglas Reading Numbers after Samuel ................................................ 139 Lester L. Grabbe Mighty Oaks from (Genetically Manipulated?) Acorns Grow: The Chronicle of the Kings of Judah as a Source of the Deuteronomistic History ............................................................ 155
vi
contents
A. Peter Hayman The ‘Original Text’ of Sefer Yeßira or the ‘Earliest Recoverable Text’? .................................................................... 175 Alastair G. Hunter ‘The Righteous Generation’: The Use of Dôr in Psalms 14 and 24 ........................................................................................ 187 William Johnstone Exodus 20.24b: Linchpin of Pentateuchal Criticism or Just a Further Link between the Decalogue and the Book of the Covenant? .................................................................................. 207 Gary N. Knoppers Cutheans or Children of Jacob? The Issue of Samaritan Origins in 2 Kings 17 .............................................................. 223 Lydie Kucová Obeisance in the Biblical Stories of David ............................ 241 Timothy H. Lim The Book of Ruth and its Literary Voice .............................. 261 James R. Linville Bugs Through the Looking Glass: The Infestation of Meaning in Joel .......................................................................... 283 Steven L. McKenzie The Trouble with King Jehoshaphat ........................................ 299 Raymond F. Person, Jr. The Deuteronomic History and the Books of Chronicles: Contemporary Competing Historiographies ............................ 315 Hugh S. Pyper Swallowed by a Song: Jonah and the Jonah-Psalm through the Looking-Glass ...................................................................... 337 David J. Reimer Stories of Forgiveness: Narrative Ethics and the Old Testament .................................................................................... 359 Robert Rezetko ‘Late’ Common Nouns in the Book of Chronicles ................ 379
contents
vii
Thomas Christian Römer Israel’s Sojourn in the Wilderness and the Construction of the Book of Numbers ................................................................ 419 Margreet L. Steiner The Notion of Jerusalem as a Holy City ................................ 447 Emanuel Tov Biliteral Exegesis of Hebrew Roots in the Septuagint? .......... 459 Julio Trebolle Kings (MT/LXX) and Chronicles: The Double and Triple Textual Tradition ...................................................................... 483 John Van Seters The ‘Shared Text’ of Samuel–Kings and Chronicles Re-examined .............................................................................. 503 H. G. M. Williamson Once Upon a Time . . .? .......................................................... 517 Gregory T. K. Wong Gideon: A New Moses? ............................................................ 529 N. Wyatt The Seventy Sons of Athirat, the Nations of the World, Deuteronomy 32.6b, 8–9, and the Myth of Divine Election ........................................................................................ 547 Contributors ................................................................................ 557 Index of Names .......................................................................... 561
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT The task of editing a substantial volume like this could not be done without the help of several people whom we should like to thank. Foremost, we should like to record our gratitude to André Lemaire for accepting this Festschrift into the Vetus Testamentum Supplements series. It is an honour to have this collection of articles published exceptionally in this most reputable of series. His helpful guidance throughout the process has been much appreciated. The editors of Brill Academic Publishers, Hans van der Meij (now of IDC), and Mattie Kuiper, we should like to thank for their professionalism and cooperation. Finally, we are most grateful to Sylvia Auld not only for answering numerous questions about family life and history, but also for providing us with a most suitable title for the volume. W. Brian Aucker Timothy H. Lim Robert Rezetko
A TRIBUTE TO A. GRAEME AULD Between the covers of this book are published thirty articles written by colleagues, former students and friends in honour of Alan Graeme Auld. Many more would have contributed but for space, schedule and opportunity, yet all join us in congratulating Graeme on passing his sixty-fifth birthday and on amassing a lifetime of work and achievement as one of the most original and innovative Hebrew Bible scholars of his generation. A passage from the Wisdom of Jesus ben Sira may be adapted to describe Graeme the scholar: he who devotes himself to the study of the law of the Most High will seek out the wisdom of all the ancients, and will be concerned with prophecies; he will preserve the discourse of notable men and penetrate the subtleties of parables; he will seek out the hidden meanings of proverbs and be at home with the obscurities of parables (39.1–3).
For most of his academic life, Graeme has been concerned with the study of the law or Pentateuch, especially but not exclusively with its fifth book and the theory proposed by Martin Noth of a Deuteronomistic History that extends from Deuteronomy to 2 Kings. Over the years, Graeme has come to question the validity of this theory and has advanced an alternative model of a ‘shared text’ or ‘the Book of Two Houses’ to account for the overlapping material found in Samuel–Kings and Chronicles. Not everyone agrees with this model; however, most hold a critical appreciation of the way that Graeme’s work has compelled scholars to re-think the axiomatic in secondary literature. Like the scribe eulogised by Jesus son of Sira, Graeme has concerned himself with prophecies, not only because the ‘Former Prophets’ is another designation for the books of Joshua to Kings, but also in the way that he has examined the phenomena of prophecy and the legacy that the prophets left to us in the Old Testament. His study guide to Amos is an erudite and stimulating work in the best British tradition of accessible introductions by experts. For him, ‘prophet’ is a late term to describe the recipients of divine revelation. A source critic of the Hebrew Bible, Graeme has sought the wisdom of the ancients, especially among the translators of the Hebrew Bible into Greek, the Septuagint, but also more recently among the
xii
a tribute to a. graeme auld
scribes who copied the biblical manuscripts from the Judaean Desert, the Qumran scrolls. He has not confined himself to written sources, but has investigated as an independent witness the material culture that the ancients left to us in archaeological artefacts of the city of Jerusalem to the Hellenistic period. Just as the scribe who studies the law of the Most High preserves the discourse of notable men, so Graeme has left for perpetuity his discussions of Old Testament theology and in particular the contribution of the Scottish ‘divines’ who graced Scotland for hundreds of years. Graeme has not studied extensively parables or proverbs, but his close reading of Hebrew and Greek texts and biblical scholarship is nothing if not an act of detecting subtleties, hidden meanings and obscurities in authoritative texts and commonly held beliefs. Unlike the ancient scribe who ‘depends on the opportunity of leisure’ (Sira 38.24–25), Graeme has had his ‘hand to the plough’, serving as he has done over the years in numerous academic and administrative capacities as Dean of the Faculty (now School) of Divinity, Principal of New College, doctoral supervisor, teacher, external examiner and committee member. Graeme the colleague is highly respected for his efficiency, competence, unpretentiousness and above all his judgement. Always fair to all colleagues, no matter what religious background, gender, ethnic origin or educational pedigree, Graeme is a model of a good administrator and academic leader. Junior and senior staff-members alike look to him for guidance and his opinion carries much weight within the School of Divinity, the College of Humanities & Social Science, the University of Edinburgh generally and beyond. As Principal of New College he has had pastoral oversight over candidates training for ministry in the Church of Scotland. In recognition of his many achievements, Graeme has been duly elected Fellow of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. Graeme Auld was born on 14th August 1941 at a nursing home in Aberdeen (though his family home was in Edinburgh). His mother, Alice, had returned to her hometown for the birth. His father Alan Talbert Auld was a Social Worker and the Secretary to the Aberdeen Association of Social Service. Graeme was to attend George Watson’s College, one of the three Edinburgh Merchant Company Schools, but his family moved to Aberdeen before he entered his first year. In Aberdeen, he attended Robert Gordon’s College and sat exams in English, French, Latin, Mathematics and Greek at Higher, with supplementary papers in Dynamics, Calculus and Coordinate Geometry.
a tribute to a. graeme auld
xiii
On leaving school, Graeme won an academic bursary and attended Aberdeen University in 1959, reading the Master of Arts (in Scotland, it is an undergraduate degree) in Classics, and receiving a first class result. From the time when he was in school, Graeme had already intended on entering the ministry, but back in the 1960s theological training in Scotland was solely a postgraduate qualification. Thus, he first read Classics, and having done so, Graeme moved to Edinburgh in 1963 to pursue the Bachelor of Divinity (BD) degree at the Faculty of Divinity of the University of Edinburgh. The first two years of the three-year programme were devoted to Old Testament, New Testament, Church History and Systematic Theology; it was only in the last year that he specialised in Old Testament Studies. After completing his BD, Graeme continued postgraduate studies at the suggestion of George Anderson, then Professor of Hebrew and Old Testament Studies in Edinburgh. He received a studentship from the Scottish Educational Department and spent 1966–1968 studying abroad, first at l’Ecole biblique et archéologique française in Jerusalem, then in Germany. While in Jerusalem, Père Roland de Vaux asked Graeme to review Sigmund Mowinckel’s Tetrateuch, Pentateuch, Hexateuch: die Berichte über die Landnahme in den drei altisraelitischen Geschichtswerken (1964) and this was the impetus that eventually led him to complete an Edinburgh PhD on the text and literary relations of the book of Joshua in 1976. Graeme also worked at the British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem (BSAJ; now the Kenyon Institute, Jerusalem) where he met two people who were to have a significant influence on him the rest of his life. The first was Professor Martin Noth who suggested that he further his studies in Germany with Rudolf Smend, who was at that time at the Universität Münster before he moved to Göttingen. Second, he met Sylvia Joyce Lamplugh, the daughter of a MajorGeneral in the Royal Engineers, who was working at the British School. Sylvia was later to complete a doctorate in the history of Islamic Art at the University of Edinburgh. Graeme and Sylvia met, fell in love and were engaged at Teleilat Ghassul before being evacuated to Kyrenia, North Cyprus a week before the Six Day War. They were married in Somerset, England, in September 1967. Between 1969 and 1972, Graeme returned to Jerusalem to serve as the Assistant Director of the BSAJ. His son, Hamish, was born there and was christened in St. Andrews Church in West Jerusalem, an ecumenical ceremony attended by de Vaux, other Dominicans,
xiv
a tribute to a. graeme auld
members of the Greek Orthodox Church, Armenians, Church of England parishioners and Muslims. Graeme and Sylvia had two other children, Fergus and Caroline, and over the years they again travelled to the Holy Land by driving there in an ancient Volkswagen van with all three children in tow. Then, Graeme had long hair and wore flared trousers and Sylvia sported a scarf around her neck, prompting their children to call them ‘hippy parents’! In 1972, he was called back to a lectureship in Edinburgh to replace Robert Davidson who had been appointed to a chair at the University of Glasgow. Thus Graeme returned to the Scottish capital, joining George Anderson, John Gibson and Peter Hayman as the fourth staff member in Old Testament Studies. He was ordained in April 1973. He has spent his entire academic career in Edinburgh, having been promoted to Senior Lecturer and then in 1995 to a personal chair in Hebrew Bible. In 1994, he was awarded a Doctor of Literature degree by the University of Aberdeen. Throughout his career, Graeme has been involved in many professional guilds and societies, notable among these is the Society for Old Testament Study, for which he served as Book Editor (1986–1992), Foreign Secretary (1997–2004) and President (2005). Graeme’s hobbies include music (he used to sing in a choir), Sudoku, crosswords, Scottish rugby (especially this year!), reading and walking the dog. He has retained his interests and ability in Mathematics, astonishing colleagues by calculating sums and percentages instantly in his head. In his manse in the Borders, he enjoys entertaining family and friends, lighting bonfires and creating space in his garden. He has an instant rapport with children, taking them as individuals, and likes animals. Above all, Graeme is a man with a dry and witty sense of humour. Family members, friends, colleagues and students alike are often left wondering whether or not he is being serious. So, on the sixty-fifth year of his birthday, we congratulate Graeme for what he has accomplished thus far and raise our glasses to celebrate his life and achievement. Slainte! W. Brian Aucker Timothy H. Lim Robert Rezetko
PUBLICATIONS OF A. GRAEME AULD* Books: Sole Author 1 Joshua, Moses and the Land: Tetrateuch-Pentateuch-Hexateuch in a Generation Since 1938 (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1980). 2 Joshua, Judges, and Ruth (DSB; Edinburgh: St. Andrew Press; Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1984); trans.: Yoshuaki (trans. K. Ono; Deiri sutadi baiburu, 7; Tokyo: Shinkyoshuppansha, 1987). 3 I & II Kings (DSB; Edinburgh: St. Andrew Press; Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1986); trans.: Retsuoki (trans. S. Fujimoto; Deiri sutadi baiburu, 9; Tokyo: Shinkyoshuppansha, 1994). 4 Amos (OTG; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1986, 1990; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995, 1999; London: T & T Clark International, rev. edn, 2004). 5 Kings without Privilege: David and Moses in the Story of the Bible’s Kings (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994). 6 Joshua Retold: Synoptic Perspectives (Old Testament Studies; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1998). 7 Samuel at the Threshold: Selected Works of Graeme Auld (SOTS Monographs; Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004). 8 Joshua: Jesus, son of Naue, in Codex Vaticanus (Septuagint Commentary Series; Leiden: Brill, 2005). 9 I & II Samuel (OTL; Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press, in preparation). 10
Commentary on Joshua (ICC; London: T & T Clark International, in preparation).
* Book reviews are excluded from this bibliography.
xvi
publications of a. graeme auld
Books: Joint Author 11 With M. L. Steiner, Jerusalem I: From the Bronze Age to the Maccabees (Cities of the Biblical World; Cambridge: Lutterworth Press; Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1996). Books: Sole Editor 12 Understanding Poets and Prophets: Essays in Honour of George Wishart Anderson ( JSOTSup, 152; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993). Books: Joint Editor 13 With T. H. Lim, L. W. Hurtado and A. M. Jack, The Dead Sea Scrolls in their Historical Context (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2004). 14 With E. Eynikel (eds.), For and Against David: Story and History in the Books of Samuel (BETL; Leuven: Peeters, in preparation). Book Essays: Author 15 ‘Joshua: The Hebrew and Greek Texts’, in J. A. Emerton (ed.), Studies in the Historical Books of the Old Testament (VTSup, 30; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1979), pp. 1–14; repr. in Joshua Retold, pp. 7–18. 16 ‘Creation and Land: Sources and Exegesis’, in Proceedings of the Eighth World Congress of Jewish Studies ( Jerusalem: World Union of Jewish Studies, Perry Foundation for Biblical Research; Magnes Press, The Hebrew University, 1982), pp. 7–13; repr. in Joshua Retold, pp. 63–68. 17 ‘Tribal Terminology in Joshua and Judges’, in Convegno sul tema: Le origini di Israele (Roma, 10–11 febbraio 1986) (Accademia nazionale dei Lincei, Fondazione Leone Caetani; Rome: Accademia nazionale dei Lincei, 1987), pp. 87–98; repr. in Joshua Retold, pp. 69–76. 18 ‘Word of God and Word of Man: Prophets and Canon’, in L. Eslinger and G. Taylor (eds.), Ascribe to the Lord: Biblical and Other Studies in Memory of Peter C. Craigie ( JSOTSup, 67; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1988), pp. 237–51.
publications of a. graeme auld
xvii
19 ‘Prophecy and the Prophets’, in S. Bigger (ed.), Creating the Old Testament: The Emergence of the Hebrew Bible (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1989), pp. 203–26. 20 ‘Word of God’, in R. J. Coggins and J. L. Houlden (eds.), A Dictionary of Biblical Theology (London: SCM Press; Philadelphia: Trinity Press International, 1990), pp. 731–32. 21 ‘Amos and Apocalyptic: Vision, Prophecy, Revelation’, in D. Garrone and F. Israel (eds.), Storia e Tradizioni di Israele: Scritti in onore di J. Alberto Soggin (Brescia: Paideia Editrice, 1991), pp. 1–13; repr. in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 71–79. 22 ‘Can a Biblical Theology also be Academic or Ecumenical?’, in R. P. Carroll (ed.), Text as Pretext: Essays in Honour of Robert Davidson ( JSOTSup, 138; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1992), pp. 13–27. 23 ‘The British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem’, in A. Biran et al. (eds.), Biblical Archaeology Today, 1990: Proceedings of the Second International Congress on Biblical Archaeology, Jerusalem, June–July 1990 ( Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, The Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities, 1993), pp. 23–26. 24 ‘Solomon at Gibeon: History Glimpsed’, in S. A˙ituv and B. A. Levine (eds.), Avraham Malamat Volume (ErIsr, 24; Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1993), pp. 1*–7*; repr. in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 97–107. 25 ‘Reading Joshua after Kings’, in J. Davies, G. Harvey and W. G. E. Watson (eds.), Words Remembered, Texts Renewed: Essays in Honour of John F. A. Sawyer ( JSOTSup, 195; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995), pp. 167–81; repr. in Joshua Retold, pp. 102–12. 26 ‘Hebrew and Old Testament’, in D. F. Wright and G. D. Badcock (eds.), Disruption to Diversity: Edinburgh Divinity, 1846–1996 (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1996), pp. 53–71. 27 ‘Leviticus at the Heart of the Pentateuch’, in J. F. A. Sawyer (ed.), Reading Leviticus: A Conversation with Mary Douglas ( JSOTSup, 227; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996), pp. 40–51; repr. in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 225–32. 28 ‘Re-Reading Samuel (Historically): “Etwas mehr Nichtwissen”’, in V. Fritz and P. R. Davies (eds.), The Origins of the Ancient
xviii
publications of a. graeme auld Israelite States ( JSOTSup, 228; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996), pp. 160–69; repr. in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 153–59.
29 ‘British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem’, in E. M. Meyers (ed.), The Oxford Encyclopedia of Archaeology in the Near East (5 vols; New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), 1:359–60. 30 ‘The Former Prophets: Joshua, Judges, 1–2 Samuel, 1–2 Kings’, in S. L. McKenzie and M. P. Graham (eds.), The Hebrew Bible Today: An Introduction to Critical Issues (Louisville, KY: Westminster/ John Knox Press, 1998), pp. 53–68; repr. as ‘The Former Prophets’, in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 11–25. 31 ‘What Makes Judges Deuteronomistic?’, in Joshua Retold, pp. 120–26. 32 ‘The Deuteronomists and the Former Prophets, or What Makes the Former Prophets Deuteronomistic?’, in L. S. Schearing and S. L. McKenzie (eds.), Those Elusive Deuteronomists: The Phenomenon of Pan-Deuteronomism ( JSOTSup, 268; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), pp. 116–26; repr. in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 185–91. 33 ‘History–Interpretation–Theology: Issues in Biblical Religion’, in E. Ball (ed.), In Search of True Wisdom: Essays in Old Testament Interpretation in Honour of Ronald E. Clements ( JSOTSup, 300; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), pp. 22–36; repr. in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 161–71. 34 ‘Joshua, Book of ’, in J. H. Hayes (ed.), Dictionary of Biblical Interpretation (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1999), pp. 625–32; repr. as ‘The History of Interpretation of the Book of Joshua’, in Joshua Retold, pp. 129–39. 35 ‘What was the Main Source of the Books of Chronicles?’, in M. P. Graham and S. L. McKenzie (eds.), The Chronicler as Author: Studies in Text and Texture ( JSOTSup, 263; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), pp. 91–99; repr. in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 135–40. 36 ‘The Deuteronomists between History and Theology’, in A. Lemaire and M. Saebø (eds.), Congress Volume: Oslo 1998 (VTSup, 80; Leiden: Brill, 2000), pp. 353–67; repr. in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 193–203.
publications of a. graeme auld
xix
37 ‘Joshua and 1 Chronicles’, in G. Galil and M. Weinfeld (eds.), Studies in Historical Geography and Biblical Historiography Presented to Zecharia Kallai (VTSup, 81; Leiden: Brill, 2000), pp. 132–41; repr. in Joshua Retold, pp. 113–19. 38 ‘Prophets Shared—but Recycled’, in T. Römer (ed.), The Future of the Deuteronomistic History (BETL, 147; Leuven: Peeters and Leuven University Press, 2000), pp. 19–28; repr. in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 127–34. 39 ‘Samuel and Genesis: Some Questions of John Van Seters’s “Yahwist”’, in S. L. McKenzie, T. Römer and H. H. Schmid (eds.), Rethinking the Foundations: Historiography in the Ancient World and in the Bible: Essays in Honour of John Van Seters (BZAW, 294; Berlin: W. de Gruyter, 2000), pp. 23–32; repr. in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 205–11. 40 ‘What if the Chronicler Did Use the Deuteronomistic History?’, in J. C. Exum (ed.), Virtual History and the Bible (BibInt, 8; Leiden: Brill, 2000), pp. 137–50. 41 ‘From King to Prophet in Samuel and Kings’, in J. C. de Moor (ed.), The Elusive Prophet: The Prophet as a Historical Person, Literary Character and Anonymous Artist (OTS, 45; Leiden: Brill, 2001), pp. 31–44; repr. in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 173–83. 42 ‘Bearing the Burden of David’s Guilt’, in C. Bultmann, W. Dietrich and C. Levin (eds.), Vergegenwärtigung des Alten Testaments: Beiträge zur biblischen Hermeneutik für Rudolf Smend zum 70. Geburtstag (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2002), pp. 69–81. 43 ‘Counting Sheep, Sins, and Sour Grapes: The Primacy of the Primary History?’, in A. G. Hunter and P. R. Davies (eds.), Sense and Sensitivity: Essays on Reading the Bible in Memory of Robert Carroll ( JSOTSup, 348; London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002), pp. 63–72; repr. in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 255–62. 44 ‘Prophecy’, in J. Barton (ed.), The Biblical World (2 vols; London: Routledge, 2002), 1:88–106. 45 ‘Samuel, Numbers, and the Yahwist-Question’, in J. C. Gertz, K. Schmid and M. Witte (eds.), Abschied vom Jahwisten: Die Komposition des Hexateuch in der jüngsten Diskussion (BZAW, 315; Berlin: W. de Gruyter, 2002), pp. 233–46; repr. in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 243–54.
xx
publications of a. graeme auld
46 ‘1 and 2 Samuel’, in J. D. G. Dunn and J. W. Rogerson (eds.), Eerdmans Commentary on the Bible (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), pp. 213–45. 47 ‘Leviticus after Exodus and before Numbers’, in R. Rendtorff and R. A. Kugler (eds.), The Book of Leviticus: Composition and Reception (VTSup, 93; Formation and Interpretation of Old Testament Literature, 3; Leiden: Brill, 2003), pp. 41–54; repr. in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 233–42. 48 ‘What was a Biblical Prophet? Why does it Matter?’, in J. C. Exum and H. G. M. Williamson (eds.), Reading from Right to Left: Essays on the Hebrew Bible in Honour of David J. A. Clines ( JSOTSup, 373; London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003), pp. 1–12. 49 ‘Alexander Geddes on the Historical Books of the Hebrew Bible’, in W. Johnstone (ed.), The Bible and the Enlightenment: A Case Study – Dr Alexander Geddes (1737–1802): The Proceedings of the Bicentenary Geddes Conference held at the University of Aberdeen, 1–4 April 2002 ( JSOTSup, 377; London: T & T Clark International, 2004), pp. 181–200. 50 ‘Solomon and the Deuteronomists’, in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 119–25. 51 ‘The Story of David and Goliath: A Test Case for Synchrony Plus Diachrony’, in W. Dietrich (ed.), David und Saul im Widerstreit – Diachronie und Synchronie im Wettstreit. Beiträge zur Auslegung des ersten Samuelbuchs (OBO, 206; Freiburg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2004), pp. 118–28. 52 ‘Amphictyony, Question of ’, in B. T. Arnold and H. G. M. Williamson (eds.), Dictionary of the Old Testament Historical Books (Downers Grove, IL: Inter-Varsity Press, 2005), pp. 26–32. 53 ‘Reading Kings on the Divided Monarchy: What Sort of Narrative?’, in H. G. M. Williamson (ed.), Understanding the History of Ancient Israel (British Academy Symposium Series; in preparation). 54 ‘A Factored Response to an Enigma (2 Samuel 21–24)’, in A. G. Auld and E. Eynikel (eds.), For and Against David: Story and History in the Books of Samuel (BETL; Leuven: Peeters, in preparation).
publications of a. graeme auld
xxi
55 ‘Writing Time and Eternity in Samuel and Kings’ in Festschrift Philip Davies (London: T & T Clark International, in preparation). Book Essays: Translator 56 W. Zimmerli, ‘The History of Israelite Religion’, in G. W. Anderson (ed.), Tradition and Interpretation: Essays by Members of the Society for Old Testament Study (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1979), pp. 351–84. Journal Articles: Sole Author 57 ‘Judges I and History: A Reconsideration’, VT 25 (1975), pp. 261–85; repr. in Joshua Retold, pp. 79–101. 58 ‘A Judaean Sanctuary of 'Anat ( Josh 15:59)?’, TA 4 (1977), pp. 85–86; repr. in Joshua Retold, pp. 61–62. 59 ‘Cities of Refuge in Israelite Tradition’, JSOT 10 (1978), pp. 26–40; repr. in Joshua Retold, pp. 37–48. 60 ‘Textual and Literary Studies in the Book of Joshua’, ZAW 90 (1978), pp. 412–17; repr. in Joshua Retold, pp. 19–24. 61 ‘The “Levitical Cities”: Texts and History’, ZAW 91 (1979), pp. 194–206; repr. in Joshua Retold, pp. 25–36. 62 ‘Keeping up with Recent Studies VI. The Pentateuch’, ExpTim 91 (1980), pp. 297–302. 63 ‘Poetry, Prophecy, Hermeneutic: Recent Studies in Isaiah’, SJT 33 (1980), pp. 567–81. 64 ‘Israel’s Social Origins’, ExpTim 92 (1981), pp. 146–47. 65 ‘Prophets Through the Looking Glass: Between Writings and Moses’, JSOT 27 (1983), pp. 3–23; repr. in R. P. Gordon (ed.), “The Place is Too Small for Us”: The Israelite Prophets in Recent Scholarship (Sources for Biblical and Theological Study, 5; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1995), pp. 289–307; repr. in P. R. Davies (ed.), The Prophets: A Sheffield Reader (The Biblical Seminar, 42; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996), pp. 22–42; repr. in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 45–59.
xxii
publications of a. graeme auld
66 ‘Prophets Through the Looking Glass: A Response to Robert Carroll and Hugh Williamson’, JSOT 27 (1983), pp. 41–44; repr. in P. R. Davies (ed.), The Prophets: A Sheffield Reader (The Biblical Seminar, 42; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996), pp. 57–60; repr. in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 59–61. 67 ‘Prophets and Prophecy in Jeremiah and Kings’, ZAW 96 (1984), pp. 66–82; repr. in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 29–43. 68 ‘Sabbath, Work, and Creation: hkalm Reconsidered’, Hen 8 (1986), pp. 273–80. 69 ‘Gideon: Hacking at the Heart of the Old Testament’, VT 39 (1989), pp. 257–67; repr. in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 63–70. 70 ‘The Cities in Joshua 21: The Contribution of Textual Criticism’, Text 15 (1990), pp. 141–52; repr. in Joshua Retold, pp. 49–57. 71 ‘Prophecy in Books: A Rejoinder [to Thomas W. Overholt]’, JSOT 48 (1990), pp. 31–32; repr. in P. R. Davies (ed.), The Prophets: A Sheffield Reader (The Biblical Seminar, 42; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996), pp. 85–86. 72 ‘Salomo und die Deuteronomisten – eine Zukunftsvision?’, TZ 48 (1992), pp. 343–55; trans. and repr. as ‘Vision of a New Future’, in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 109–17. 73 ‘Does God Speak [Hebrew]? A Response to Professor McKane’, ExpTim 108 (1997), p. 177. 74 ‘Le texte hébreu et le texte grec de Josué: une comparaison à partir du chapitre 5’, Foi et Vie. Cahier biblique 37 = FoiVie 97.4 (1998), pp. 67–78. 75 ‘Hebrew Bible and Theology’, Theology in Scotland 6 (1999), pp. 55–70. 76 ‘Réponse d’A. G. Auld [to C. Nihan and T. Römer]’, ETR 3 (1999), pp. 422–24. 77 ‘Tamar Between David, Judah and Joseph’, SEÅ 65 (2000), pp. 93–106; repr. in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 213–24. 78 ‘Deuteronomy, History and the Hebrew Bible’, ExpTim 113 (2002), pp. 173–74.
publications of a. graeme auld
xxiii
79 ‘imago dei in Genesis: Speaking in the Image of God’, ExpTim 116 (2005), pp. 259–62. Journal Articles: Joint Author 80 With C. Y. S. Ho, ‘The Making of David and Goliath’, JSOT 56 (1992), pp. 19–39; repr. in Samuel at the Threshold, pp. 81–96 Journal Articles: Translator 81 R. Smend, ‘Julius Wellhausen and the Prolegomena to the History of Israel, 1878–1978’, Semeia 25 (1982), pp. 1–20. Periodicals: Editor 82–87 Book List of the Society for Old Testament Study, 1987–1992. 88 Theology in Scotland 12.1 (2005), pp. 3–84, a guest edited periodical number with papers from a conference celebrating the life and work of Professor Norman Walker Porteous. Online Essays 89 ‘Voices from the Past’, SOTS Presidential Address, 5 January 2005, www.sots.ac.uk.
ABBREVIATIONS AASF AASOR AB ABD
Annales Academiae scientiarum fennicae Annual of the American Schools of Oriental Research Anchor Bible D. N. Freedman (ed.), Anchor Bible Dictionary (6 vols; New York: Doubleday, 1992). ABRL Anchor Bible Reference Library ALASP Abhandlungen zur Literatur Alt-Syrien-Palästinas AnBib Analecta biblica AOAT Alter Orient und Altes Testament ArBib The Aramaic Bible ATANT Abhandlungen zur Theologie des Alten und Neuen Testaments ATD Das Alte Testament Deutsch ATSAT Arbeiten zu Text und Sprache im alten Testament AusBR Australian Biblical Review BA Biblical Archaeologist BARev Biblical Archaeology Review BASOR Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research BBB Bonner biblische Beiträge BDB F. Brown, S. R. Driver and C. A. Briggs, A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1907). BEATAJ Beiträge zur Erforschung des Alten Testaments und des antiken Judentum Berit Olam Berit Olam: Studies in Hebrew Narrative and Poetry BETL Bibliotheca ephemeridum theologicarum lovaniensium BHS K. Elliger and W. Rudolph (eds.), Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 1983). Bib Biblica BibInt Biblical Interpretation BJS Brown Judaic Studies BKAT Biblischer Kommentar: Altes Testament BN Biblische Notizen BWANT Beiträge zur Wissenschaft vom Alten und Neuen Testament
xxvi BZ BZAW
abbreviations
Biblische Zeitschrift Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft CahRB Cahiers de la Revue biblique CAT Commentaire de l’Ancien Testament CBC The Cambridge Bible Commentary CBQ Catholic Biblical Quarterly CBQMS Catholic Biblical Quarterly Monograph Series ConBOT Coniectanea biblica: Old Testament CV Communio viatorum DCH D. J. A. Clines (ed.), The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew (5 vols; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993–2001). DJD Discoveries in the Judaean Desert DSB The Daily Study Bible ÉBib Études bibliques ErIsr Eretz-Israel: Archaeological, Historical and Geographical Studies EstBíb Estudios Bíblicos ETL Ephemerides theologicae lovanienses ETR Etudes théologiques et religieuses ExpTim Expository Times FAT Forschungen zum Alten Testament FCB Feminist Companion to the Bible FoiVie Foi et Vie FOTL The Forms of the Old Testament Literature FRLANT Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments GKC W. Gesenius, Gesenius’ Hebrew Grammar (ed. E. Kautzsch; trans. A. E. Cowley; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2nd edn, 1910). GTT Gereformeerd theologisch tijdschrift HALOT L. Koehler, W. Baumgartner and J. J. Stamm, The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament (trans. and ed. under the supervision of M. E. J. Richardson; 5 vols; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1994–2000). HAT Handbuch zum Alten Testament Hen Henoch Hermeneia Hermeneia—A Critical and Historical Commentary on the Bible HO Handbuch der Orientalistik
abbreviations HS HSM HSS HTR HUCA IBC
xxvii
Hebrew Studies Harvard Semitic Monographs Harvard Semitic Studies Harvard Theological Review Hebrew Union College Annual Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching ICC International Critical Commentary IEJ Israel Exploration Journal Int Interpretation ITC International Theological Commentary JANES Journal of the Ancient Near Eastern Society JBL Journal of Biblical Literature JJS Journal of Jewish Studies JNES Journal of Near Eastern Studies JNSL Journal of Northwest Semitic Languages JQR Jewish Quarterly Review JSJSup Journal for the Study of Judaism Supplement JSOT Journal for the Study of the Old Testament JSOTSup Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement JSS Journal of Semitic Studies JTS Journal of Theological Studies KAT Kommentar zum Alten Testament KHAT Kurzer Hand-Commentar zum Alten Testament KTU M. Dietrich, O. Loretz & J. Sanmartín, The Cuneiform Alphabetic Texts: From Ugarit, Ras Ibn Hani and Other Places (KTU) (ALASP, 8; Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2nd enl. edn, 1995). LB Linguistica Biblica LCL Loeb Classical Library LHBOTS Library of Hebrew Bible/Old Testament Studies LSJ H. G. Liddell, R. Scott, and H. S. Jones, Greek-English Lexicon (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 9th edn, 1940). LSTS Library of Second Temple Studies MdB Le Monde de la Bible MRS Mission de Ras Shamra MSU Mitteilungen des Septuaginta-Unternehmens NAC New American Commentary NCB New Century Bible NICOT New International Commentary on the Old Testament NTT Norsk Teologisk Tidsskrift
xxviii OBO OBT OED
abbreviations
Orbis biblicus et orientalis Overtures to Biblical Theology J. A. Simpson and E. S. C. Weiner (eds.), The Oxford English Dictionary (20 vols; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2nd edn, 1989). OLA Orientalia lovaniensia analecta OTE Old Testament Essays OTG Old Testament Guides OTL Old Testament Library OTS Oudtestamentische Studiën OTWSA Ou Testamentiese Werkgemeenskap in Suid-Afrika PEQ Palestine Exploration Quarterly PJ Palästina-Jahrbuch Proof Prooftexts: A Journal of Jewish Literary History PRSt Perspectives in Religious Studies Qad Qadmoniot RB Revue biblique REJ Revue de études juives RevQ Revue de Qumran RHPR Revue d’histoire et de philosophie religieuses SB Sources bibliques SBB Stuttgarter biblische Beiträge SBLDS Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series SBLMS Society of Biblical Literature Monograph Series SBLSCS Society of Biblical Literature Septuagint and Cognate Studies SBLSymS Society of Biblical Literature Symposium Series SBLWAW Society of Biblical Literature Writings from the Ancient World SBS Stuttgarter Bibelstudien SEÅ Svensk exegetisk årsbok SemeiaSt Semeia Studies SJOT Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament SJT Scottish Journal of Theology SMSR Studi e materiali di storia delle religioni SOTSMS Society for Old Testament Studies Monograph Series SSN Studia semitica neerlandica ST Studia theologica StC Studia catholica STDJ Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah
abbreviations SubBi SWBA TA TBT TBü TCS TDOT
xxix
Subsidia biblica Social World of Biblical Antiquity Tel Aviv The Bible Today Theologische Bücherei Texts from Cuneiform Sources G. J. Botterweck et al. (eds.), Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament (vols 1–14; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974–2004). Text Textus TLZ Theologische Literaturzeitung TOTC Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries Transeu Transeuphratène TRE G. Krause and G. Müller (eds.), Theologische Realenzyklopädie (35 vols; Berlin: W. de Gruyter, 1977–2003). TRu Theologische Rundschau TSAJ Text und Studien zum antiken Judentum TynBul Tyndale Bulletin TZ Theologische Zeitschrift UBL Ugaritisch-Biblische Literatur UF Ugarit-Forschungen VD Verbum domini VT Vetus Testamentum VTSup Vetus Testamentum Supplement WBC Word Biblical Commentary WMANT Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament ZABR Zeitschrift für Altorientalische und Biblische Rechtsgeschichte ZAW Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft ZDPV Zeitschrift der deutschen Palästina-Vereins ZTK Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche
A PROPHET IN KING’S CLOTHES: KINGLY AND DIVINE RE-PRESENTATION IN 2 KINGS 4 AND 51 W. Brian Aucker 1. Introduction A. G. Auld observes that with biblical characters what you see is not necessarily what you get. Characters designated ‘priest’ may occasionally be seated as ‘king’.2 But such characterisations may work in other directions as well. By means of an exploration of 2 Kings 4–5 this essay will show that in the presentation of Elisha, we observe a ‘prophet’, functioning as much more than a prophet. It is not uncommon for scholars to point out the lack of coherence present within the stories of Elisha found in 2 Kings 2–8. W. Bergen states that for readers of the Elisha narrative ‘coherence is elusive in 2 Kings’.3 G. W. Anderson writes that the Elisha stories are less coherent than the Elijah stories since the former ‘are linked together by little more than the personality of the prophet’.4 For G. H. Jones the larger collection of stories of multiple genres ‘gives them no more than a superficial appearance of unity’.5 Y. Radday states that the Elisha Cycle seems like a ‘foreign intrusion’ into Kings and that its
1 I offer my thanks to Headmaster, Jim Marsh and Head of Upper School, Dr Jim Sefrit of Westminster Christian Academy for a leave of absence that enabled the completion of this project. I also thank Robert Rezetko and Timothy Lim for helpful comments on an earlier draft of this essay. 2 A. G. Auld, ‘From King to Prophet in Samuel and Kings’, in J. C. de Moor (ed.), The Elusive Prophet: The Prophet as a Historical Person, Literary Character and Anonymous Artist (OTS, 45; Leiden: Brill, 2001), pp. 31–44; repr. in idem, Samuel at the Threshold: Selected Works of Graeme Auld (Society for Old Testament Study Monographs; Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004), pp. 173–83. It is a great pleasure to dedicate this essay to my former thesis supervisor Graeme Auld, whose scholarship, guidance, encouragement and friendship fostered my exploration of 2 Kings 2–8. 3 W. J. Bergen, ‘The Prophetic Alternative: Elisha and the Israelite Monarchy’, in R. B. Coote (ed.), Elijah and Elisha in Socioliterary Perspective (Semeia St; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1992), pp. 127–37 (129). 4 G. W. Anderson, A Critical Introduction to the Old Testament (Studies in Theology; London: Gerald Duckworth, 1959), p. 87. 5 G. H. Jones, 1 and 2 Kings (NCB; 2 vols; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans; London: Marshall, Morgan & Scott, 1984), 1:69.
w. brian aucker
2
‘message—religious, national or social—is practically nil and why it was included in the book is a problem that still has to be solved’.6 This essay will not solve the problem of why Elisha was included in Kings. However, we will venture a start, challenging these assessments by means of an examination 2 Kings 4–5. The argument set forth is that it is Elisha’s kingly and divine re-presentation that makes the Elisha Cycle much more than a ‘foreign intrusion’ in the books of Kings.7 2. The Literary Structure of 2 Kings 2–8 The miracle stories in 2 Kings 2–8 provide a conundrum for the assessment of literary coherence both because they are ill-suited to their context and because the miracle stories appear so pointless. This is perfectly understandable given the view that the stories are postDeuteronomistic additions perhaps lifted from a prior prophetic source.8 B. Long notes, for example, the difficulty of discerning the intention of DtrH’s use of the stories in 2 Kings 4 which ‘accent’ Elisha within the reign of Jehoram. He suggests that perhaps, despite an apostate monarch and people, the DtrH wanted to emphasise the availability of God’s power in and through the successor of Elijah, i.e., since there is still a prophet in Israel there remains a God in Israel as well.9 This is an important emphasis in 2 Kings 5 (cf. v. 15) encouraging us to treat the two chapters together. The question of Elisha’s literary function within 2 Kings remains. Is it possible to read the narratives of chapters 4–5 and indeed all of 2 Kings 2–8 as an implicit indictment on the monarchy and its failed leadership and as the elevation of a prophetic figure to new heights? At the wider narrative level it is difficult to establish a ‘principle of composition’. P. Buis attempts an arrangement of stories grouped 6
Y. Radday, ‘Chiasm in Kings’, LB 31 (1974), pp. 62–67 (63). Here Radday refers to R. H. Pfeiffer, Introduction to the Old Testament (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1941), p. 407. 7 The larger and more detailed argument may be found in W. B. Aucker, ‘Putting Elisha in His Place: Genre, Coherence, and Narrative Function in 2 Kings 2–8’ (unpublished PhD thesis, University of Edinburgh, 2001). 8 S. Otto, ‘The Composition of the Elijah—Elisha Stories and the Deuteronomistic History’, JSOT 27 (2003), pp. 487–508 (497, 504–507). See also, S. L. McKenzie, The Trouble with Kings: The Composition of the Book of Kings in the Deuteronomistic History (VTSup, 42; Leiden. E. J. Brill, 1991), pp. 81–100. 9 B. Long, 2 Kings (FOTL, 10; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991), p. 65.
a prophet in king’s clothes
3
according to typology.10 He categorises them as (A) Elisha the benefactor—stories in which the prophet uses his miraculous powers in service to others: 2.19–22; 4.1–7; 4.38–44; 6.1–7; 8.1–2; 13.20–21; (B) Elisha and his servant: 4.8–37; 5.1–27; 6.8–23; (C) Elisha in the political sphere—here Elisha, as the successor of Elijah, instigates revolutions: 2 Kgs 8.7–15; 9.1–13; (D) Elisha in warfare: 3.4–27; 6.24–7.20; 13.14–19; (E) Biographical notices: 2.23–25; 8.3–6; 13.20. Buis sets forth the following arrangement for the stories from chapters 2–8:11 A B A B A B (4.1–7) (4.8–37) (4.38–44) (5.1–27) (6.1–7) (6.8–23) D (3.4–27) AE (2.19–22) (2.23–25)
(6.24–7.20) D (8.1–2) (8.3–6) AE
This is a reasonable attempt at creating an overall compositional structure for chapters 2–8 and places chapters 4–5 within a set of contiguous texts moving from 4.1–6.23. Here Elisha acts as benefactor (A) or with his servant (B). Undoubtedly, there is some artificiality in the production of such structures. While helpful in situating our chapters, we would like to be more general. Stories in which Elisha moves amidst the common folk are distinguished from those where he is involved in the great political events of the day. This contrast is exemplified, for example, in the narrative shift from the political events of chapter 3, to the prophet among the people in chapter 4. This is not the only place where such a shift occurs. Stretching back to 2 Kings 1, the narrative moves broadly from prophetic interaction with royal and political situations, including royal figures and/or messengers (A), to interaction with non-royal figures (B). Narrative movement of this sort encourages us to query the extent to which the prophet is being compared to royal figures.
10 P. Buis, Le Livre des Rois (SB; Paris: J. Gabalda and Librairie LeCoffre, 1997), p. 187. 11 Buis, Rois, p. 187 creates a chart which covers chapters 2–13. I have ‘magnified’ his treatment of chapters 2–8 since they are my chief concern with respect to coherence.
w. brian aucker
4 A (1.1–18)
B (2.1–25)
Ahaziah Elijah and his and the messengers sons of the prophets
A (3.1–27)
B (4.1–44)
A (5.1–27)
B (6.1–7)
A (6.8–7.20)
AB (8.1–6)
Jehoram Sons and of the Jehoprophets, shaphat et al.
Naaman and King of Israel
Sons of the prophets
King of Syria and King of Israel
King of Israel, Gehazi and Shunammite
Elisha interacts in pendulum fashion with these two groups until the convergence of both groups in 8.1–6 where we find the unnamed King of Israel, the ‘woman whose son he [Elisha] had restored to life’ and Gehazi.12 The prophet is absent within the narrative and yet the king of Israel is very interested in hearing from Gehazi about ‘all the great things Elisha has done’ (8.4b). 3. The Feeding and Healing Prophet (2 Kings 4) 3.1. 2 Kings 4.1–7; 4.38–41; 4.42–44 The themes of provision and healing are evident in chapter 4. Two stories of provision of food (4.1–7; 4.42–44) surround two stories of healing from death (4.8–37; 4.38–41).13 The prophet’s changing interaction with varying groups contributes to the view that the stories have little relationship with one another.14 Below, we deal first with the shorter stories, the so-called prophetic legenda of 4.1–7, 38–41 and 42–44, before turning to the longer tale 12 Though literary and thematic elements of 4.8–37 and 8.1–6 encourage reading the stories together, it remains atypical in practice. See M. Roncace, ‘Elisha and the Woman of Shunem: 2 Kings 4.8–37 and 8.1–6 Read in Conjunction’, JSOT 91 (2000), pp. 109–27. 13 N. Levine, ‘Twice as Much of Your Spirit: Pattern, Parallel, and Paronomasia in the Miracles of Elijah and Elisha’, JSOT 85 (1999), pp. 25–46 (29). W. Brueggemann, 1 & 2 Kings (Smyth and Helwys Bible Commentary; Macon, GA: Smyth and Helwys, 2000), p. 236, examines ‘five wonders’ in this chapter with the provision of the son and the raising of the son considered separately. On the combination of the ‘miraculous birth story’ (provision) and the ‘miraculous survival story’ (raising) see Y. Amit, ‘A Prophet Tested: Elisha, the Great Woman of Shunem, and the Story’s Double Message’, BibInt 11 (2003), pp. 279–94. 14 M. Cogan and H. Tadmor, II Kings: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB, 11; New York: Doubleday, 1988), p. 59, claim that the stories in chapter 4 are held together by Elisha’s wonder-working acts on behalf of his admirers. J. Gray, I & II Kings: A Commentary (OTL; London: SCM Press, 3rd rev. edn, 1977), p. 491, notes that in 4.1–37 Elisha is more individual and not so tightly connected with the prophetic guild.
a prophet in king’s clothes
5
of the Shunammite in vv. 8–37.15 Within the shorter narratives Elisha provides an abundance of materials basic to life. Along with the earlier provision of abundant water (3.16–17), the narratives of chapter 4 present oil that continues to flow (4.1–7), and bread enough to feed one hundred such that some remains after everyone has been fed (4.42–44). All five instances of the messenger formula, hwhy rma hk, uttered by Elisha within chapters 2–8 are concerned with either the provision of abundant water (3.16, 17), bread (4.43), or grains (7.1). The fifth instance occurs at 2.21 and will be considered below. Besides themes, there are a number of lexical features worthy of consideration. Levine observes the high concentration of qxy and q[x in these stories.16 In 4.1–7, the widow ‘cries out’ and oil is ‘poured out’. In response to the famine in the land the narrator explicitly portrays Elisha himself providing food or drink for the sons of the prophets (4.38–41). In this instance the prophet commands his servant to ‘set on the large pot and boil stew for the sons of the prophets’ (4.38b). The stew is ‘poured out’ only to have those eating ‘cry out’ to Elisha, ‘Death in the pot, O man of God!’. In an earlier tale (2 Kgs 2.19–22) Elisha commanded the men of the city to bring (jql, 2.20) him a new bowl containing salt, an ingredient the prophet proceeds to cast (˚lç) into the spring. The occurrence of the messenger formula is found in 2.21 and is followed by Yhwh’s promise: ‘I heal these waters: neither death (twm) nor miscarriage shall come from there again’ (2 Kgs 2.21b). Similarly, in 4.38–41 the prophet asks the sons of the prophets to bring (jql, v. 41a) flour which he then casts (˚lç) into the pot. The end result of Elisha’s action is that in 2.21 and 4.41 death is robbed of its prey: death will not come from the water or the pot.17
15 A. Rofé, The Prophetical Stories: The Narratives about the Prophets in the Hebrew Bible, their Literary Types and History (Publications of the Perry Foundation for Biblical Research in the Hebrew University of Jerusalem; Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1988), pp. 27–32, describes 2 Kgs 4.8–37 as an elaboration of the legenda combining miracles into an integrated story, recounting circumstances and events, and providing the development of characters. 16 Levine, ‘Twice as Much’, pp. 29–30. For stories involving Elisha see qxy (2 Kgs 3.11; 4.4, 5, 40, 41; 9.3, 6) and q[x (2.12; 3.21; 4.1, 40; 6.5, 26; 8.3, 5). Space does not permit full development here, but q[x has important implications for the divine and royal portrayal of the prophet especially in 6.24–7.20 and 8.1–6. See R. N. Boyce, The Cry to God in the Old Testament (SBLDS, 103; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1988). 17 R. D. Nelson, First and Second Kings (IBC; Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1987), p. 175, sees both the salt of 2.21 and the flour of 4.41 as symbols of life. T. R.
6
w. brian aucker
In view of the similarities, the story of the blighted stew, like the story of the water in 2.19–22, may be viewed as a story of healing. As Elisha heals the waters near Jericho so he also heals the stew. If these are to be read as healing stories then in both we find stories which merge the features of healing and the provision of food (water, soup) into brief compass. The theme of feeding the sons of the prophets continues in final story (4.42–44). Again the recipients of prophetic favour are most likely the sons of the prophets as well, even though the phrase is not explicitly used. At the end of the previous story the prophet casts flour into the pot and follows with the command to ‘pour out for the people so that they may eat’. The stew ordered earlier for the ‘sons of the prophets’ (4.38b) is eventually poured out ‘for the people’ (4.41b). Similarly, in the story that follows, Elisha twice commands the man from Baal Shalishah (v. 42) to ‘give ( ˆtn) to the people so that they may eat’. The narratives encourage the association of ‘the people’ in 42b, 43b with the earlier ‘sons of the prophets’. Overall, these stories build upon and interact with one another such that they provide all that is needed for the making of bread: a new bowl with salt (2.20), clean water (2.21b), oil (4.6), flour (4.41), and eventually enough bread such that the people may eat and have some left over (4.43).18 But what has Elisha’s provision to do with the concept of kingship? In these minor stories the prophet’s actions hint at the assumption of the royal task of providing food. In several instances in the Hebrew Bible we find kings, or those granted the authority of kings, providing bread or grains for the people. For example, both David (2 Sam 6.19//1 Chron 16.3) and Joseph (Genesis 41, 47) provide for people in this manner.19 In Elisha’s case, this provision moves beyond
Hobbs, 2 Kings (WBC, 13; Waco, TX: Word Books, 1985), p. 53, asserts that ‘death in the pot’ cannot be taken literally but is a reaction to the heinous mixture they have just tasted. However, Cogan and Tadmor, envisioning the same gourd as Hobbs, claim that it ‘has been known to be fatal’ (II Kings, p. 58). 18 L. Bronner, The Stories of Elijah and Elisha as Polemics against Baal Worship (Pretoria Oriental Series, 6; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1968), pp. 83–84 argues that miracles of grain and oil performed by Elijah and Elisha contrast the power of Yhwh to provide with the power of Baal to provide. 19 C. Grottanelli, ‘Religious Ideals and the Distribution of Cereal Grains in the Hebrew Bible’, in idem, Kings and Prophets: Monarchic Power, Inspired Leadership and Sacred Text in Biblical Narrative (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999), pp. 31–45. Of course, the purpose of the provision of grain or bread is not the same in all cases. In David’s case the emphasis is not food for the hungry but the festival tied to the ark’s return (p. 32). Similarly, Joseph is not necessarily interested in saving lives but
a prophet in king’s clothes
7
merely mimicking royal actions to actually criticising them. Discussing Elisha’s penchant for providing grains in 2 Kings 4, Grottanelli observes: ‘The prophets are guarantors of abundance (II Kings 4) and defenders of property (II Kings 8), while kings threaten property (I Kings 21) and are incapable of guaranteeing abundance (II Kings 6:25–27)’.20 While the actions of the prophet may be criticised elsewhere, it is difficult to read Elisha’s actions here in a negative light since the prophetic provision contrasts with the Omride kings who either do not or cannot provide foodstuffs, or worse, actually remove property from their subjects (as with Naboth’s vineyard).21 This line of inquiry raises an interesting question with respect to the final story in chapter 4: why does the man from Baal-Shalishah bring ‘bread of the firstfruits’ (μyrwkb, v. 42) to Elisha? The phrase presents difficulties for Bergen who wishes to see in the Elisha stories a critique of prophetism.22 It is also interesting to explore the attempts of commentators to deal with this oddity. Most seem puzzled by it.23 on gaining domination of the land and control of the people for the sake of the palace he serves (p. 34). 20 Grottanelli, ‘Religious Ideals’, p. 38. 21 Grottanelli, Kings and Prophets, p. 6, notes that in the fight against greedy monarchs or oppressors the biblical narrative offers as heroes those who are not kings. Often these non-monarchic figures are prophetic. For example, Deborah fights enemy kings and Elijah and Elisha ‘offer their Israelite followers a miraculous distribution of cereal food’. 22 W. Bergen, Elisha and the End of Prophetism ( JSOTSup, 286; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), p. 108, states that in this story ‘all the right elements are in the right places’. See also pp. 109–10 for a discussion of the ‘firstfruits’ used in three different categories: firstfruits given to the priest; to the house of Yhwh where the priesthood is not mentioned directly; and to Yhwh as part of the general command to celebrate. 23 W. E. Barnes, The Two Books of the Kings in the Revised Version (The Cambridge Bible for Schools and Colleges; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1908), p. 203, states, ‘Such an offering was an appropriate one to make to a prophet’ but provides no reason why this is so. J. A. Montgomery and H. S. Gehman, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Books of Kings (ICC; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1951), p. 370, claim ‘not here a ritual term’. J. Robinson, The Second Book of Kings (CBC; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1976), pp. 48–49, observes that if this is a ritual offering of first fruits, then they are offered to Elisha as prophet-leader at the sanctuary. Jones, 1 and 2 Kings, 2:411 claims that it likely refers to the first fruits offered to God which are either ‘appropriated’ by Elisha ‘to prepare a sacramental meal’ or brought to both prophets and priests. Hobbs, 2 Kings, p. 53, only observes the timing of the food with respect to the famine of the previously established context (v. 38). Nelson, First and Second Kings, p. 175, believes it to be ‘in the nature of a religious offering’. Brueggemann, 1 & 2 Kings, p. 325, sees it as a ‘gesture of gratitude’. For V. Fritz, 1 & 2 Kings: A Continental Commentary (trans. A. Hagedorn; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003), p. 255, ‘it is not clear why the gift of the firstfruits should reach the prophet’ given the loaves would belong to the priests.
8
w. brian aucker
A. G. Auld explicitly notes: ‘It is striking that he [Elisha] should have received such a dedication at all; for first fruits belonged to God, and were presented more immediately to his priests’.24 In the earlier story of the Shunammite, Elisha is likewise spoken of in ways reserved for ‘cult personnel’.25 Wiseman also notices this feature and questions whether Elisha’s acceptance and sharing of the gift ‘may indicate recognition of him as the Lord’s representative’.26 Going even further, Bergen raises the possibility that since the firstfruits should have been presented to Yhwh perhaps ‘this is another indication that Elisha is taking the place of Yhwh in the narrative?’.27 This gets to the heart of the matter. If, as Auld points out, priests can be seated as kings, and if as we argue here prophets provide grain in a king-like fashion, perhaps it is also true that prophets may receive firstfruits like priests. The question remains as to why this representative of Yhwh received such a gift when others did not? 3.2. 2 Kings 4.8–37 The theme of healing from death, prominent in 2 Kgs 2.19–22 and 4.38–41, is clearly present in the revival of the Shunammite’s son in 4.18–37 where the prophet stretches out on the body of the child in an act of identification resulting in the child’s revivification (v. 34). It is also possible that the provision of the son may itself be an act of Elisha healing the Shunammite’s barrenness (cf. 2.21).28 For our purposes, other features of 2 Kings 4.8–37 recall events in prior chapters and emphasise the appropriate response of ‘faithful Israel’
24 A. G. Auld, I & II Kings (DSB; Edinburgh: St. Andrew Press; Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1986), p. 163. 25 The Shunammite tells her husband Elisha is a ‘holy man of God’ (v. 9a). Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, p. 56, observe that this is the only case where a prophet is spoken of as ‘holy’. The term elsewhere is applied to cult personnel, Nazarites, or Israel as a ‘kingdom of priests’. 26 D. J. Wiseman, 1 & 2 Kings: An Introduction & Commentary (TOTC, 9; Downers Grove, IL: Inter-Varsity Press, 1993), pp. 205–206. 27 Bergen, Elisha, p. 110. While admitting that this story clarifies the ‘connection’ between Yhwh and Elisha, Bergen ultimately questions this connection because he questions the appropriateness of bringing firstfruits to the prophet. 28 This point is much debated. R. W. Neff, ‘Saga’, in G. W. Coats (ed.), Saga, Legend, Tale, Novella, Fable: Narrative Forms in Old Testament Literature ( JSOTSup, 35; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1985), pp. 17–32, argues that this is a healing narrative. However, M. Shields, ‘Subverting a Man of God, Elevating a Woman: Role and Power Reversals in 2 Kings 4’, JSOT 58 (1993), pp. 59–69, highlights elements that do not fit the ‘promise to the barren wife’ type (pp. 62–63).
a prophet in king’s clothes
9
to the prophet of Yhwh.29 The question Elisha puts directly to the widow (4.2) or indirectly to the Shunammite through Gehazi (4.13), is reflective of the query put to him by Elijah: 2 Kgs 2.9
Elijah to Elisha
‘Ask what I may do for you (˚lAhç[a hm) before I am taken from you’.
2 Kgs 2.4
Elisha to Shunnamite
‘And Elisha said to her, “What shall I do for you? (˚lAhç[a hm)”’.
2 Kgs 4.13
Elisha to Shunnamite through Gehazi
‘Say to her, “Look at all this great worry you have shown for us. What is to be done for you? (˚l twç[l hm)”’.
Not only are the questions similar, but the response of the Shunammite mirrors the actions of previous characters. Her language duplicates the previous response of Elisha to Elijah’s departure. The former claimed that he would allow no obstacle to come between him and his master, a sentiment echoed by the Shunammite. This connects the two responses enabling us to read the one in the light of the other. Elijah provides for Elisha and Elisha provides for the sons of the prophets: the reaction of the Shunammite exemplifies the appropriate response to the man of God: ˚bz[aAμa ˚çpnAyjw hwhyAyj
2 Kgs 2.2, 4, 6 Elisha to Elijah 2 Kgs 4.30
‘Elisha said, “As Yhwh lives and as you live, I will not leave you”’.
˚bz[aAμa ˚çpnAyjw hwhyAyj Shunammite ‘And the mother of the child said, “As to Elisha Yhwh lives and as you live, I will not leave you”’.
The actions of the Shunammite toward Elisha are also similar to the actions of the sons of the prophets when they realise that Elisha is endowed with his mentor’s spirit. Although the latter had bowed 29
The phrase ‘faithful Israel’ is used by P. E. Satterthwaite, ‘The Elisha Narratives and the Coherence of 2 Kings 2–8’, TynBul 49 (1998), pp. 1–28 (8), to contrast those faithful to Elisha and Yhwh (e.g., ‘sons of the prophets’ and the Shunammite woman) with the wider Israel of the northern Kingdom especially as represented by king Jehoram.
10
w. brian aucker
to the ground before Elisha (hxra wlAwwjtçyw, 2.15), the Shunammite, herself a ‘great woman’ (hlwdg hça, 4.8), exhibits at least an equal reverence for the prophet and may actually encourage us to see in her behaviour a response of even deeper reverence because we are told that she ‘fell upon his feet and bowed to the ground’ (hxra wjtçtw wylgrAl[ lptw, 4.37). Thus her language reflects Elisha’s regard for Elijah and her deeds mirror the esteem of the sons of the prophets towards Elisha. Elisha is the only non-royal figure in Kings to be afforded such treatment and the only prophet in the Hebrew Bible to be shown such reverence. Why? The reader is asked to see in this prophet one who is more than just a prophet. Certainly the interpretation advanced here, stressing the ‘elevation’ of the prophet, runs counter to recent treatments which see the prophet in a more critical light.30 In annunciation stories the announcement usually comes from the deity or divine messenger, but in this story it is Elisha who makes the announcement.31 Why is it not possible then to see Elisha filling a divine role in this story? Similarly, Amit asserts that even the arrangement of the furniture in Elisha’s upper room ‘is like a small sanctuary, an attic furnished with items that might recall God’s abode’.32 If Elisha is being given a divine re-presentation, observations like these make perfect sense. Narrative features of chapter 5, especially questions of the king and Elisha, will show the prophet accomplishing tasks that the king cannot. 4. A Critique of Kings, a YHWH-like Prophet, and Role Reversal (2 Kings 5) 4.1. 2 Kings 5.1–3: Background From the interaction of Elisha with non-royal / non-political figures in chapter 4, the narrative returns in chapter 5 to a portrayal of the prophet among political and military leaders, and does so with great
30 Amit, ‘A Prophet Tested’, p. 280, n. 5, notes the variety of interpretations over the last twenty years which find in 2 Kgs 4.8–37 a critique of the prophet. 31 Amit, ‘A Prophet Tested’, p. 283. 32 Amit, ‘A Prophet Tested’, p. 284. Amit suggests that the table recalls the table of display (Exod 25.23–30), the chair suggests God’s seat (1 Kgs 22.19), and the lamp, an important vessel of the sanctuary (Exod 25.31–40), and the bed may echo the altar. Even Elisha’s use of drj may echo the theophany at Sinai (Exod 19.16, 18).
a prophet in king’s clothes
11
style.33 Cohn suggests a three-fold structure focusing upon the central characters (Elisha, vv. 1–14; Naaman, vv. 15–19; Gehazi, vv. 20–27). Likewise Long’s triptych consists of the background to the problem (vv. 1–2), the resolution of the problem (vv. 3–14) and the ‘aftermath of cure’ (vv. 15–27). In keeping with the often understated quality of Hebrew narrative technique the author provides background information—sometimes shocking—that will play an important role in the story to follow. For example, in another detail that encourages us to read chapters 4 and 5 together, we learn in the opening verse that besides being the commander of the army of the king of Aram, Naaman was considered a ‘great man’ (lwdg çya) and held in high regard by his king (cf. hlwdg hça, 2 Kgs 4.8). This is due to the surprising fact that through the warrior Naaman, Yhwh had given ‘victory in battle’ to Aram.34 This is a startling piece of information and a reminder of the contextual importance of the military threat from Aram within the Elisha narratives. In fact the greater portion of the remainder of the stories from 5.1–8.15 will be dedicated completely to this theme in one form or another, broken only by the shorter stories of 6.1–7 and 8.1–6. Even more shocking is the end of verse one where we learn that Naaman is ‘a mighty man, a leper’. Verse two immediately contrasts his strength, position, and knowledge with that of a little girl (hnfq hr[n) from the land of Israel whom the ‘raiding bands’ (μydwdg) from Aram had taken captive. Within the Books of Kings these raiders are often sent in response to royal unfaithfulness.35 This captured servant-girl tells her mistress that if only Naaman were ‘before the prophet who is in Samaria’ (v. 3) his leprosy would be removed. In concluding the treatment of 2 Kings 4 it was claimed that in 2 Kings 5 Elisha is portrayed as something more than a prophet as evidenced by the questions of the king of Israel and Elisha near the beginning and end of the narrative. With these questions the narrator provides us with implicit commentary regarding his view of
33 R. L. Cohn, 2 Kings (Berit Olam; Collegeville, MN: Michael Glazier, 2000), p. 35; Long, 2 Kings, pp. 66–67. 34 D. P. O’Brien, ‘“Is this the Time to Accept . . .?” (2 Kings V 26B): Simply Moralizing (LXX) or an Ominous Foreboding of Yahweh’s Rejection of Israel (MT)?’, VT 46 (1996), pp. 448–57. 35 In Kings they are found at 1 Kgs 11.24; 2 Kgs 5.2; 6.23; 13.20, 21; 24.2 (4x).
w. brian aucker
12
the king and the prophet. Without saying so explicitly, he elevates the position of the prophet and in keeping with the overall thrust of the Elisha narratives, he indicts the king and indeed the concept of kingship within Israel. 4.2. 2 Kings 5.4–19: The Divine and Royal Prophet Having gained permission from his lord to seek healing in Israel (v. 5), Naaman is given a letter from the king of Aram to deliver to the king of Israel asking him to remove Naaman’s leprosy. Why does Naaman seek an audience with Israel’s king when he is told that healing comes from the prophet in Samaria? Perhaps, as a high foreign official he simply follows routine diplomatic procedure. Perhaps there is some hint that he was not detailed enough in reporting to the king of Aram the words of the child (hr[nh hdbd tazkw tazk, v. 4). Regardless of Naaman’s report to his own king, it is clear from verse seven that the king of Israel sees more than just a visit from a foreign diplomat. He posits sinister motives behind this visit just as he had negatively interpreted Yhwh’s calling of the three kings (2 Kgs 3.13b). Believing the king of Aram to be seeking a quarrel (v. 7b) he asks, ‘Am I God to cause death (tymhl) and to make alive (twyjhl) that this one sends (jlç) to me . . .’ (v. 7a). By means of the king’s reading of this communiqué and the rending of his clothes, the narrator emphasises the ‘impotence of royal authority’.36 The phrase twyjhlw tymhl occurs only here in the Hebrew Bible, although there are other instances (Deut 32.29; 1 Sam 2.6) where twm and hyj are used together of Yhwh’s power over life and death. The narrative immediately contrasts the actions of the prophet with those of the king. 2 Kgs 5.7a
‘And it came about when the king of Israel read the letter, he rent his clothes . . .’.
2 Kgs 5.8a
‘And it came about when Elisha the man of God heard that the king of Israel had rent his clothes he sent . . .’.
36
Cohn, 2 Kings, p. 37.
a prophet in king’s clothes
13
Whereas the king bemoans the fact that Ben-hadad sends (jlç) Naaman to him to be healed, Elisha now sends (jlç) to the king of Israel requesting that Naaman come to him. The little girl, Naaman’s wife, Naaman, and the reader all know what the narrator wants the king of Israel to know, namely, that there is a prophet in Israel who can heal: ‘Why have you rent your clothes? Let him come to me so that he will know that there is a prophet in Israel’ (2 Kgs 5.8b). What are the implications of Elisha’s offer and what does the question and offer say about both prophet and king? First, with these utterances Elisha couches an accusation in the form of a question by not explicitly stating the violated norm. Rosenblum observes, ‘It seems reasonable that at least in the public domain people rarely level their criticism straightforwardly’.37 The force of his question echoes Elijah’s question to Ahaziah in 2 Kgs 1.3: ‘Is it because there is no God in Israel . . .?’. Elisha expects more of the king of Israel than the king provides and in so doing the prophet points out the king’s failure. His recommendation, following upon his question, denies the king of Israel’s power to effect the change Naaman seeks. Stated differently, Elisha addresses his question to one who should have known better. Second, within the narrative the king of Israel’s own question, ‘Am I God to cause death and to make alive . . .?’, is met by the prophet’s response ‘let him come to me’. Clearly a narrator is unlikely to have this prophet of Yhwh give a positive answer to the question ‘Am I God?’, and yet the request that Naaman be sent to the prophet suggests that Elisha is fulfilling the deity’s role. The narrative equates ‘healing’ with ‘making alive’ and reveals the presupposition that the one who heals, by implication, manifests divine qualities.38 Is Elisha being portrayed here as some kind of god, or at least a prophet who has taken over the task of healing possibly associated with kings? Kingly behaviour is noted later when Elisha refuses to speak directly to Naaman but instead communicates with him through a messenger. Likewise, ‘[t]he author implicitly contrasts the impotent king with the confident prophet who, unlike the king, actually exercises royal authority’.39 37
See K. E. Rosenblum, ‘When is a Question an Accusation?’, Semiotica 65 (1987), pp. 143–56 (144). 38 H. Ringgren, ‘hy:j’; , in TDOT 4:324–344 (337) states that ‘make alive’ and ‘cure disease’ are in 2 Kgs 5.7 ‘practically synonymous’. 39 R. L. Cohn, ‘Form and Perspective in 2 Kings V’, VT 33 (1983), pp. 171–84
14
w. brian aucker
Grottanelli observes that the king in Mediterranean and Near Eastern societies was ‘both during his life and after his death, a “healer” and a “savior”’.40 Likewise, in Israel, the role of the king ‘ultimately coincided with the ancient Near Eastern pattern’ although this was given a somewhat different expression.41 In this respect, if Elisha is being given a royal portrayal, it is not surprising that even in his death he is able to heal (2 Kgs 13.21). Hosea 5.13–6.2 also lends some support to the idea that kings were sought for healing. In Hos 5.13 both Ephraim with his ‘illness’ and Judah with his ‘wound’ sent (jlç) to the king of Assyria for help, ‘but he is not able to heal you nor shall a wound depart from you’ (Hos 5.13). In Hos 6.1–2 Yhwh does not bring about death as in Deut 32.29, but he is responsible as the one who has ‘torn to pieces’ but will heal, who has ‘struck’ but will bind up and ‘make us alive’. The healing of Naaman and the cursing of Gehazi exemplify the bringing of life and death by Elisha. There are a number of instances in 2 Kings where the he performs similar ‘Yhwh-like’ acts, whether healing (2.19–22), bringing about life (4.8–37) or death (2.23–25).42 Certainly he does not appear to act apart from Yhwh; prophets are commonly viewed as Yhwh’s representatives. However, in Elisha’s case does the identification with Yhwh run deeper? To answer this question it is important to examine the other side of the equation consisting of the ineffectiveness of the king of Israel. Jehoram’s brother Ahaziah sought Baal-zebub for healing (2 Kings 1) and now the king of Aram seeks healing for his servant Naaman (176–77). This royal portrayal may also explain the use of Gehazi to communicate with the Shunnamite in 2 Kings 4 which some interpreters have viewed as contempt or relational distanciation. 40 C. Grottanelli, ‘Healers and Saviors of the Eastern Mediterranean in Preclassical Times’, in idem, Kings and Prophets, pp. 127–45 (127). Grottanelli is quick to note that both the ‘saving’ and ‘sacred’ quality of Near Eastern royal ideology is a debated subject. This essay is a reprint with revisions of Grottanelli’s earlier article of the same title in U. Bianchi and M. J. Vermaseren (eds.), La Soteriologia dei culti orientali nell’Impero Romano: atti del Colloquio internazionale su la soteriologia dei culti orientali nell’Impero romano, Roma, 24–28 settembre 1979: pubblicati (Etudes préliminaires aux religions orientales dans l’Empire romain, 92; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1982), pp. 649–70. The citations of this essay are from the revised article in Kings and Prophets unless indicated otherwise. 41 So G. E. Gerbrandt, Kingship according to the Deuteronomistic History (SBLDS, 87; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1986), p. 190. This ‘different expression’ was as ‘covenant administrator’. 42 On this important theme see J. K. Mead, ‘“Elisha Will Kill”? The Deuteronomistic Rhetoric of Life and Death in the Theology of the Elisha Narratives’ (unpublished PhD thesis, Princeton Theological Seminary, 1999).
a prophet in king’s clothes
15
from the anonymous king ( Jehoram?) of Israel. The royal figures in each case (Ahaziah; Ben-hadad on behalf of Naaman) seek healing from an inappropriate source (Baal-zebub; Jehoram?). However, this should not be taken as an indictment of Ben-Hadad; this foreign king’s actions may be painted in a more positive light. This theme, previously encountered in 2 Kings 1 and revisited in 2 Kgs 8.7–15 is repeated in 2 Kings 5: foreign kings seek Yhwh’s representative for healing while the kings of Israel are unable to recognise that help is close at hand.43 Interestingly, in 2 Kgs 8.7–15 Ben-Hadad appears to have learned his lesson since he does not seek the king of Israel for healing but Yhwh through his prophet. Instead, it is Elisha who fulfils the healing role and takes his place as an apposite earthly representative of Yhwh. To a certain extent it is irrelevant whether healing was actually an aspect of the royal persona in Israel. It is apparent that at least the king of Aram supposed that it was; Naaman arrives bearing a letter requesting the king of Israel to cure him and the king of Israel’s reaction shows that he understood the request as such.44 If this is so then perhaps the king of Israel is being viewed as somewhat akin to the ineffective Baal-zebul of 2 Kings 1. This role reversal at the human level reflects, at the divine level, a polemical concern common to the so-called northern prophetic narratives: Yhwh ‘usurps from some other ancient Near Eastern deity his [the deity’s] primary attribute’ as exemplified for example in Elijah’s contest with the prophets of Baal (1 Kings 18).45 S. Ackerman observes that the Baal in 1 Kings 18 is frequently identified as Baal Haddu46 noting that ‘Yahweh strips from Ba'al Haddu his primary attribute, his ability to withhold or bring the rains’.47 The behaviour 43 Hobbs, 2 Kings, p. 69, notes the theme of the search for healing in a foreign country also present in 2 Kings 1 and 8. 44 K. A. D. Smelik, ‘De Betekenis van 2 Koningen 5: Een “Amsterdamse” benadering’, GTT 88 (1988), pp. 98–115 (105) asserts that the king of Aram does not fully comprehend the situation as evidenced by the fact that he thinks the king of Israel, not Elisha, should heal Naaman. 45 S. Ackerman, ‘The Prayer of Nabonidus, Elijah on Mount Carmel, and the Development of Monotheism in Israel’, in W. G. Dever and J. E. Wright (eds.), The Echoes of Many Texts: Reflections on Jewish and Christian Traditions: Essays in Honor of Lou H. Silberman (BJS, 313; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997), pp. 51–65 (61). In discussing 1 Kings 18, Grottanelli makes a similar distinction between context, a clash between the ‘foreign’ god Baal and the god Yhwh, and form, a contest between prophets of Baal and the solitary Elijah (‘Healers and Saviors’, p. 127). 46 Ackerman, ‘Prayer’, p. 62. 47 Ackerman, ‘Prayer’, p. 63.
16
w. brian aucker
of Yhwh in 2 Kings 5 is mimicked by his representative in the sense that as Yhwh usurps the primary attribute of another deity in 1 Kings 18, so the prophet Elisha usurps a supposed task of the royal figure (healing). Admittedly Baal Haddu was not exalted as a god of skin diseases as is, for example, Sin the moon god of the Old Babylonian period.48 This, however, may help us pursue the analogy a bit further. The idea of ‘duelling deities’, so clearly present in 1 Kings 18, may not be far off in 2 Kings 5 since Hadad was known as Rimmon (or Ramman) to the Arameans of Syria.49 The argument here is not that Rimmon controlled skin diseases or that Yhwh in 2 Kings 5 has usurped those specific attributes of Rimmon. However, it is clear from chapter 1 that Baal was sought in the context of illness. The confrontation (Yhwh verses the foreign god) already hinted at in Elisha’s exchange with the king is further expanded by Naaman himself when in his rage50 he complains that the waters of his own land have cleansing abilities superior to those of the Jordan (vv. 11–12). The story continues to portray the divine qualities of Elisha in Naaman’s post-healing commentary (v. 15). The healing of Naaman was to have the purpose of showing the military man that there was a prophet in Israel, but instead Naaman is led to even greater epistemological understanding. Recalling the little girl (hnfq hr[n, v. 2) who knew that there was a prophet in Samaria, Naaman’s skin now becomes like that of a little boy ( ˆfq r[n, v. 14). The external change in his flesh (wrçb bçyw, v. 14b) reflects an inward change of attitude such that he turned (bçyw, v. 15a) to the man of God with his exclamation: ‘Behold! I know that there is no God in all the earth except in Israel’. Naaman, a foreign military man who in the past oppressed Israel and who was up to this point in the story a leper, now knowing the presence of both prophet and God in Israel, stands in sharp contrast to the unknowing and unnamed king of Israel.51
48
Ackerman ‘Prayer’, pp. 58–59. W. Maier III, ‘Hadadrimmon’, ABD 3:13; J. C. Greenfield, ‘The Aramean God Rammàn/Rimmòn’, IEJ (1976), pp. 195–98. 50 Verse 11 begins by mentioning Naaman’s wrath (πxq) and v. 12 ends noting his rage (hmj). 51 Satterthwaite, ‘Elisha Narratives’, p. 18. Naaman was sent to Elisha to learn of the prophetic presence in Israel. In the end he learns that there is no God except in Israel, a fact with which the narrative commences (5.1). J. Siebert-Hommes, ‘The Widow of Zarephath and the Great Woman of Shunem: A Comparative Analysis 49
a prophet in king’s clothes
17
Like the persistence of the sons of the prophets before him (wbAwrxpyw, cf. 2.17), Naaman now presses upon Elisha (wbArxpyw, v. 16) remuneration for his healing although the prophet flatly refuses to accept the gift. Why refuse this gratuity and what role does the denial of the gift play in the story? Prophets were not averse to accepting goods for services rendered. Saul, for example, takes along silver as payment for the seer Samuel (1 Sam 9.7–8) and Jeroboam’s wife takes bread, cakes and honey as payment to the prophet Ahijah (1 Kgs 14.3–4). From 2 Kgs 4.8–10 it is clear that even Elisha does not refuse gifts in principle. Also, there is no reason to believe that he refused the later gifts brought from Ben-hadad by Hazael.52 4.3. 2 Kings 5.20–27: A Critique of Kings So why does Elisha refuse Naaman’s gift? The answer is integrally bound up with Elisha’s interrogation of Gehazi in 5.25–27. The contact between Elisha and Naaman ends with the prophet’s ‘Go in peace’ (v. 19a), but his accusations clothed in rhetorical garb do not. Gehazi replies to Elisha’s terse question, ‘Where have you come from Gehazi?’ (v. 25ab), with the statement, ‘Your servant has not been anywhere in particular’ (v. 25b). Elisha is well-informed of Gehazi’s recent interaction with Naaman and yet nothing in the text necessitates any sort of supernatural prophetic vision here. Given Elisha’s familiarity with Gehazi, it is not surprising that he understands Gehazi better than Gehazi presently realises.53 It will be argued below that the final question from the prophet in v. 26 is not addressed to Gehazi alone. It is also an intrusive comment by the narrator which functions at a variety of levels within of Two Stories’, in B. Becking and M. Dijkstra (eds.), On Reading Prophetic Texts: Gender Specific and Related Studies in Memory of Fokkelien van Dijk-Hemmes (Biblical Interpretation Series, 18; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1996), pp. 231–50 (249), sees a contrast between Elijah who emphasises the God in Israel and Elisha who ‘does his utmost to let it be known that there is a prophet in Israel (2 Kgs 5:8)’. Because we agree with Smelik’s assessment that the figures of prophet and Yhwh coincide in this narrative (‘Betekenis’, p. 106) there is no reason why the two concepts (prophet in Israel / God in Israel) must be viewed as adversaries. 52 O’Brien, ‘“Is this the Time . . .?”’, p. 448, n. 1. 53 T. E. Fretheim, First and Second Kings (Westminster Bible Companion; Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1999), p. 154, sees it as ‘God given insight into his servant, not extrasensory perception’. Note how the Targum fills the gap: yl hwjta hawbn jwrb (‘In a spirit of prophecy it was revealed to me’). See D. J. Harrington and A. J. Saldarini, Targum Jonathan of the Former Prophets: Introduction, Translation and Notes (ArBib, 10; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1987), p. 274.
18
w. brian aucker
the story. Elisha queries: ‘Is it a time to take the silver and to take54 clothes, and olive-groves and vineyards, and sheep and cattle, and menservants and maidservants?’ (2 Kgs 5.26b). This rather odd question is even stranger when we consider the lack of indications within the text that Gehazi took more than just silver and clothes.55 Why does Elisha append the six items that follow? Examining the pairs of items which Elisha lists may enable us to set forth at least one possible answer. The first two items on the list (silver and clothes) are simple enough in that they are the ones Gehazi himself asked for (v. 22b) and received (v. 23) from Naaman. Regarding olive-groves and vineyards (μymrkw μytyz), O’Brien observes that together within the Hebrew Bible they function as a metonymy and signify ‘a safe and prosperous life in the promised land’.56 There are several passages in which the words are found in close proximity and which serve to represent the blessings of a land given by Yhwh as part of spoils from war (Deut 6.11; Josh 24.13; Neh 9.25).57 The next phrase, rqbw ˆax, should be viewed as ‘synecdoche representing wealth in terms of agricultural produce but particularly as blessing through the covenant with Abraham’.58 While the use of the phrase in terms of agricultural wealth or possessions is predominant,59 it is only at Gen 24.35 that Yhwh’s blessing of Abraham is made 54 The importance of the motif of gifts and the verbs ˆtn (vv. 1, 17, 22, 23) and especially jql (vv. 5, 15, 16 [2x], 20 [2x], 23, 24, 26 [2x]) are noted by Smelik, ‘Betekenis’, p. 113. In the case of the former verb we may note also its importance in the immediately preceding tale (2 Kgs 4.42, 43, 44). 55 In the LXX Gehazi uses the silver to purchase (lÆmc˙ §n aÈt“) Elisha’s list of items (C. F. Burney, Notes on the Hebrew Text of the Books of Kings [Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1903], pp. 283–84). See also the similar treatment by the Targum. 56 O’Brien, ‘“Is this the Time . . .?”’, pp. 455–56. The exact phrase μymrkw μytyz is found only at 2 Kgs 5.26. More typically μrk is found first followed (of course not necessarily immediately) by tyz. 57 Several other passages use these words in similar fashion but with a different emphasis. In 2 Kgs 18.31–32 the king of Assyria promises Deuteronomy-like blessings if Judah submits to him. In Amos 4.9, the gifts of the land once given by Yhwh are destroyed, vineyards by blight and withering and olive trees by locusts. 58 O’Brien, ‘“Is this the Time . . .?”’, p. 456. O’Brien’s claim that ‘sheep and cattle occur 77 times in the OT’ likely represents passages where the two words are found in close proximity. The syntagm rqbw ˆax occurs 41 times and another 21 times with the nouns in the reverse order (A. Even-Shoshan, A New Concordance of the Bible [ Jerusalem: “Kiryat Sefer” Publishing House Ltd., 2nd edn, 1997], p. 971, col. 1). The latter order is found especially in Deuteronomy in the context of sacrifice and eating. 59 Gen 32.8; 33.13; 45.10; 46.32; 47.1; 50.8; Exod 9.3; 10.9, 24; 12.32, 38; 34.3; 2 Sam 12.2, 4.
a prophet in king’s clothes
19
explicit in the context of wealth. It may be argued that the gifts Abraham receives (Gen 12.16; 20.14) are merely evidence of his becoming a great nation (Gen 12.2), making explicit what the text merely implies. In other instances the phrase is used as part of a treaty creation (Gen 21.27), plunder60 and sacrifice and/or sacrificial meal.61 The final phrase, twjpçw μydb[, occurs fourteen times in the Hebrew Bible62 and is associated most often with gifts (Gen 12.16; 20.14), Yhwh’s blessing of Abraham (Gen 24.35) or making/being made slaves (Deut 28.68; Isa 14.2; Jer 34.11, 16; Est 7.4; 2 Chron 28.10). Menservants and maidservants were therefore obtained primarily as plunder of war or were gained from outside Israel via purchase or gift.63 Given the fact that each pair evidences an association with plunder, perhaps Elisha is saying that it is not now time to plunder the Arameans, but that there will come a time when it is appropriate. In this way the ‘release’ of Naaman portends the release of the Arameans in the next story in which we find them (6.8–23).64 This is certainly a possible explanation for the appended items, but we would like to suggest another. The narrative function of Elisha’s question may be approached from two distinct but somewhat related directions which comport well with our interpretation of the passage thus far. We may perceive Elisha’s question as a condemnation of Gehazi. Earlier we argued for the role reversal of prophet and king; in the curse placed upon Gehazi, role reversal is again prominent as the former follower of Elisha is burdened with Naaman’s leprosy ‘forever’ and Naaman is given some of Israel’s land.65 And yet the question, while directed at Gehazi within the story, may also be read as an intrusive comment by the narrator which spotlights several wider narrative concerns. If the overall interpretation
60
Gen 34.28; 1 Sam 14.32; 15.9, 15, 21; 27.9; 30.20. Exod 20.24; Lev 1.2; 27.32; Num 11.22; 22.40; 31.28; Deut 12.6, 17, 21; 14.23, 26; 15.9; 16.2; 1 Kgs 1.9; 8.5; 2 Chron 5.6; 18.2. 62 Even-Shoshan, New Concordance, p. 1198, col. 3. In addition, the phrase with singular nouns, hjpçw db[, is used five times. 63 O’Brien, ‘“Is this the Time . . .?”’, p. 456. In several of these instances ( Jer 34.11, 16; 2 Chron 28.10) it is Hebrews enslaving fellow Hebrews contra Lev 25.39. 64 A similar point is made by R. D. Moore, God Saves: Lessons from the Elisha Stories ( JSOTSup, 134; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993), p. 83. 65 On this latter point see O’Brien, ‘“Is this the Time . . .?”’, p. 457. Smelik, ‘Betekenis’, pp. 113–14 argues that the author has a propensity to such role reversals and contrasts within the story. 61
20
w. brian aucker
of the narratives to this point is plausible, and the narrator has previously rolled Judah and Israel in the same narrative blanket,66 then perhaps Elisha’s rhetorical question provides further evidence for the condemnation of kings, both northern and southern. There is no indication that Gehazi ever took any of the other items on the formulaic list and yet when we look at Kings more broadly we remember that it was Ahab’s seizure of a vineyard that brought about Yhwh’s greatest displeasure. The taking of Naboth’s vineyard was the primary event that led to Yhwh’s oracle of destruction (1 Kgs 21.21–22) against Ahab’s house, a prophecy that awaits fulfilment within the story. This begs the further question of whether there is any other passage in the Hebrew Bible which combines a list of items similar to 2 Kgs 5.26b and anti-kingly sentiment? Such a passage is found in 1 Sam 8.10–22: (13) He will take (jqy) . . . (14) and the best of your vineyards (μkymrk) and olive groves (μkytyz) he will take . . . (16) and your menservants (μkydb[) and your maidservants (μkytwjpç) and the best of your choice men (μkyrwjb) and your asses he will take . . . (17) a tenth of your flocks (μknax) and you yourselves shall become his servants.
Cohn comments that this list includes ‘the possessions which a despotic king can be expected to take from the people’.67 These verses set forth only a small portion of the anti-monarchical sentiment in the longer passage (1 Sam 8.10–22), and yet vv. 14–17 contain five of the six items listed by Elisha and in fact all six if we accept the more likely LXX rendering ‘your cattle’ (tå boukÒlia Ím«n, μkyrqb) in the place of the MT μkyrwjb.68 Elisha’s question, in the perspective of a wider narrative context, raises the possibility of a condemnation of kingship. The prophet clearly disapproves of the taking of such
66 The last time we hear the king of Israel ( Jehoram) mentioned by name is 2 Kgs 3.6. From 2 Kgs 3.7–8.15 the king of Israel remains anonymous. This narrative feature, along with others like Jehoshaphat’s twice rendered statement of identity with Ahab (1 Kgs 22.4b) and Jehoram (2 Kgs 3.7b), encourages us to see in 2 Kings 2–8 a co-mingling and blending of the northern and southern kingdoms. There is a royal void which Elisha fills within these stories. 67 Cohn, ‘Form and Perspective’, p. 182; O’Brien, ‘ “Is this the Time . . .?” ’, p. 456, agrees with Cohn’s assessment that the list represents a ‘tithing list for a despotic ruler from the blessings of the land’ but does not agree that the parallel portrays Gehazi acting like a despotic ruler. Cohn merely states, however, that Gehazi’s actions are associated ‘with the worse excesses of royal corruption’ (p. 182). 68 S. R. Driver, Notes on the Hebrew Text of the Books of Samuel (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1890), p. 53.
a prophet in king’s clothes
21
items, as he had strongly rejected Naaman’s earlier plea to accept a gift. Instead, Elisha gives rather than takes, reflecting a Yhwh-like dispersion of the deuteronomic blessings of the land which Israel should have obtained. It is to this latter point that we now turn. 5. The Blessings of the Land: Deuteronomic Themes in the Elisha Narratives In treatments of the Elisha narratives, stories are frequently dealt with in isolation. This limits the interpreter’s ability to gain any sense of interrelationship between stories. Cohn analyses chapter 5 as an independent story, noting that its length and complexity separate it from the shorter tales that immediately precede (4.38–41, 42–44) and follow (6.1–7).69 We have purposely not separated chapter 5 from the prior stories and argued that features of 2 Kings 4–5 encourage us to read one chapter in light of the other. While it is reasonable and even necessary at times to treat chapters in isolation, looking at 2 Kings 4–5 and beyond this to the wider scope of 2 Kings 2–8 may help us to place Elisha’s question in a wider context. O’Brien senses a critique of king and people in 2 Kings 5. Naaman’s conversion to Yahwism ‘is intended as a deliberate foil to the general faithlessness of the Israelites and their kings in that age’.70 Royal critique is also implied in the promise of blessing observed in Elisha’s provision and healing of the people in chapter 4, a set of stories that remind us that not all Israel was faithless. This results in a greater function for the shorter stories in which Elisha, contrary to the tendencies of despotic kings, provides for ‘faithful Israel’, namely to those who have not bowed to Baal (1 Kgs 19.18). In this regard Elisha’s question in 5.26b is an indictment of faithlessness in Israel but not without qualification: Yhwh earlier promised the preservation of a remnant and it is to this remnant that the blessings of the land will come. This requires further elaboration. Perhaps the most unique and unexamined feature of the Elisha narratives concerns the prophet’s consistent provision of the basic staples of life. This is true particularly, although not exclusively, for the shorter stories, the so-called prophetic legends. The reigning conception 69 70
Cohn, ‘Form and Perspective’, p. 171. O’Brien, ‘“Is this the Time . . .?” ’, p. 457.
22
w. brian aucker
is that these narratives were preserved merely as a way to emphasise the miraculous and thereby exalt the holy man of God. Rofé asserts: ‘Elisha’s miracles are minor deliverances, small acts of salvation, in both scope and effect. They attest merely to the supernatural power of the Man of God who performs them’.71 However, given that Elisha’s appended list in 2 Kgs 5.26b represents ‘the blessings of the land, including security and prosperity, as a significant component of Yahweh’s covenant with Israel’72 the placement of these stories within Kings provides an implicit critique of kingship on the one hand, while leaving open the possibility of hope entailed in the blessing of the land on the other. The stories of 2 Kings 2–8 are believed to have little in common with deuteronomic themes. Otto states that the Elisha stories ‘do not comply with the Deuteronomist’s conception of history: they are not connected with their major themes nor do they confirm definite signs of Deuteronomistic treatment’.73 But does this statement require qualification? The narrative flow of Deuteronomy 7–8 moves from the destruction of the gods of the nations to the promise of abundance of the land, a narrative flow likewise present in the northern prophetic narratives where Elijah’s confrontation with Baal worship is followed by Elisha’s provision of life-giving produce. The concept of abundance in the land is especially prevalent in Deuteronomy 6–8 (particularly 8.6–9) which holds out the promise of good land (cf. 2 Kgs 2.19–22) and an abundance of basic provisions: water (Deut 8.7; cf. 2 Kgs 3), grains (Deut 7.13; 8.8; cf. 2 Kgs 6.24–7.20), bread (Deut 8.9; cf. 2 Kgs 4.42–44), oil (Deut 7.13; cf. 2 Kgs 4.1–7) and iron (Deut 8.9; cf. 2 Kgs 6.1–7).74 Other possible relations between the two passages include the assurance of fertility (Deut 7.14; cf. 2 Kgs 4.8–37), wiping out the names of foreign kings (Deut 7.24; cf. absence of the personal name of the king of Israel from 2 Kgs 3.7–8.15), plundering the land (Deut 6.10–12; cf. 2 Kgs 7.15–16) 71 Rofé, The Prophetical Stories, p. 15. He also claims that they play no part in the history of the nation, they have no religious significance and they are not tests of God’s strength (pp. 14–15). 72 O’Brien, ‘“Is this the Time . . .?” ’, p. 456. 73 Otto, ‘Composition’, p. 496. 74 In observing these connections the reader may think that I have gone well beyond likely textual influences. At the risk of further offence it is interesting that conquest of the land holds out the promise of pomegranates, ˆwmr (Deut 8.8), also the name of the god renounced by Naaman in his promise to worship Yhwh alone in 2 Kgs 5.18.
a prophet in king’s clothes
23
and the expansion of housing due to multiplication of Yhwh’s blessing (Deut 8.12–13; cf. 2 Kgs 6.1–7). The idea of eschatological blessing (abundance) in the Elisha tales was argued for by W. Reiser more than fifty years ago.75 The arguments have been re-examined and overturned recently by W. Thiel.76 Texts such as Amos 9.13, Hos 2.23–25 and 14.6–9 are mentioned by Reiser for comparison with the Elisha traditions but are dismissed by Thiel because of ‘the immense distance in the content of the promises’.77 Thiel argues that the minuscule promises of the Elisha stories fade in the bright light of the passages from the latter prophets. However, if the overall narrative context is kept in mind (the destruction of Ahab’s line and Baal worship; war with Aram; miracles; the loss of royal identity; co-mingling of the kingdoms), there is ample evidence that ‘salvation’, however conceived, is an important concern of the stories.78 As opposed to the more mature reflections in the latter prophets—ideas flourishing in response to imminent national crises of greater proportion—one might expect in the Elisha stories a nascent eschatological conception cultured in the milieu of kings who have rejected Yhwh in favour of the Baals.79 Of course, it is 75 W. Reiser, ‘Eschatologische Gottessprüche in den Elisa-Legenden’, TZ 9 (1953), pp. 321–38. Reiser examines the promises of food and water introduced by the messenger formula in 1 Kgs 17.14a and in 2 Kgs 2.21; 3.16–17; 4.43; 7.1. He concludes that ‘the oracles point modestly, but resolutely to a time which will transcend the present everyday life. They promise a time of salvation. The oracles are eschatological oracles’ (p. 333). The conclusion is cited by W. Thiel, ‘Character and Function of Divine Sayings in the Elijah and Elisha Traditions’, in H. G. Reventlow (ed.), Eschatology in the Bible and in Jewish and Christian Tradition ( JSOTSup, 243; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997), pp. 189–99 (198). 76 Thiel wishes to re-examine Reiser’s results for several reasons. First, the original article has been neglected, and second, ‘if these results were correct, we would obtain important insights into the origins and development of the Elisha traditions. We would also have the opportunity to observe something like an eschatology of salvation that already existed in the prophetic circles of the late ninth century bce’ (‘Character’, p. 189). Thiel concludes only 1 Kgs 17.14a points to ‘a fairy-tale like fullness’. For the other stories, ‘Probably not more is meant than that the consumption for the day is secured, and this only for a while’ (‘Character’, p. 198). 77 Thiel, ‘Character’, p. 198. 78 Grottanelli, ‘Healers and Saviors’, in Bianchi and Vermaseren (eds.), Soteriologia, p. 649, notes that ‘salvation’ in the Mediterranean and Near Eastern societies typically involved safety from famine, epidemics and defeat in war. This included safety from slavery which was frequently a result of the main three. 79 G. von Rad, Old Testament Theology (trans. D. M. G. Stalker; 2 vols; Edinburgh: Oliver and Boyd, 1962 [vol. 1, from the second German edition, 1957] and 1965 [vol. 2, from the third German edition, 1960]), 2:29 appears to concur. He claims that Amos, Hosea, Isaiah and Micah developed ideas ‘in such a way as to make
24
w. brian aucker
by no means certain that the Elisha stories arose in a period chronologically prior to the passages in Amos and Hosea. In any case one would expect the poetic expression of such blessings to exceed that found in prose. There are clearly ‘immense differences’ between the prose blessings of 2 Kings 2–8 and the poetry of Amos and Hosea. However, these are no more dramatic than the prose expressions of Exodus 14 and Judges 4 and their poetic counterparts found in Exodus 15//Ps 77.10–20 and Judges 5. 6. Conclusion We have argued that 2 Kings 4–5 manifests an implicit critique of kingship and an elevation of the prophet while also recalling the deuteronomic blessings exhibited in surrounding stories, particularly the so-called prophetic legends. These blessings arise from a prophet who, in reversing roles with the king, takes on characteristics both royal and divine in his acts of healing and provision of the basic staples of water, oil, bread and grains. While this does not solve Radday’s question of why Elisha was included in Kings it does offer a start and challenges the view that ‘Elisha has no message’ for king or people.80 The oracle concerning Ahab in 1 Kgs 20.42 (‘your life instead of his life, your people instead of his people’) is manifested in another dramatic role reversal in 2 Kings 5 in which the Israelite Gehazi is laden with the Gentile Naaman’s leprosy, while Naaman takes the very land of Israel home with him. The king cannot heal because he is not God while the prophet succeeds since Yhwh is working through him. Perhaps the critique of kingship and the concern with deuteronomic blessing would be of concern to a writer or editor in an exilic setting in which the loss of kingship and the question of Yhwh’s continued concern for his people were pre-eminent. Although he does not make the connection explicit, Grottanelli sees the king’s
Elijah’s and Elisha’s view of the future seem naïve and almost embryonic’. In citing Reiser’s article von Rad notes that speaking of eschatology here comes down to how one defines the term (p. 29, n. 48). Hobbs, 2 Kings, p. 55, states: ‘It is a short step from this ideal, exemplified in the actions of Elisha, to the later prophetic voice raised on behalf of the poor and oppressed and those victims of monarchical society’. 80 Bergen, ‘The Prophetic Alternative’, p. 135.
a prophet in king’s clothes
25
statement in 2 Kings 5 as significant because he views the rise of the prophetic movement within the wider context of the ‘collapse of the whole social and political system of the Eastern Mediterranean’ associated with the transition from the Late Bronze Age to the Iron Age.81 If Saul, Israel’s first king, is a transitional figure portrayed as a ‘possessed prophet’,82 then perhaps in Elisha we are also witnessing a transitional figure, a royal- and perhaps even a priestly-prophet. This proposal becomes even more interesting as the text moves to 2 Kgs 6.1–23 where Elisha returns ‘borrowed iron’ (a symbol of failed kingship?) to the surface and single-handedly ‘saves’ Israel from the Arameans.
81
Grottanelli, ‘Healers and Saviors’, p. 128. Grottanelli, ‘Charismatic Possession and Monarchic Rationalization’, in idem, Kings and Prophets, pp. 87–109, sees Saul as a transitional figure between the judges and kings (p. 100) and elsewhere notes that Saul is portrayed as a ‘possessed “prophet”’ (‘Healers and Saviors’, p. 128). 82
HISTORIOGRAPHY AND THEODICY IN THE OLD TESTAMENT John Barton Three questions may be asked of any literary document: What does it mean? What is its aim or goal? How is it meant to be used? The first question is the one most commonly addressed by biblical scholars in handling the historiographical or narrative works of the Old Testament. Especially with the help of redaction criticism, it is possible to examine the meaning of the historical books not only at the level of words and sentences, but at the macrosemantic level at which whole books—even the whole ‘Deuteronomistic History’, supposing that there is one—convey theological significance. The idea, for example, that there is a ‘kerygma’ of the Deuteronomistic History belongs to the quest for its meaning.1 The significance of whole sections of the work, and their articulation in relation to each other, can be analysed, and an overall ‘drift’ identified. Notoriously, Martin Noth thought this drift negative and pessimistic,2 whereas Gerhard von Rad and Hans Walter Wolff believed it to be much more positive.3 The question of the tailpiece on the release of Jehoiachin from prison (2 Kgs 25.27–30) is crucial here. Does it serve merely as a
1 See H. W. Wolff, ‘Das Kerygma des deuteronomischen Geschichtswerks’, ZAW 73 (1961), pp. 171–86 = ‘The Kerygma of the Deuteronomic Historical Work’, in W. Brueggemann and H. W. Wolff (eds.), The Vitality of Old Testament Traditions (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1975), pp. 83–100. 2 See M. Noth, Überlieferungsgeschichtliche Studien I: Die sammelnden und bearbeitenden Geschichtswerke im Alten Testament (Schriften der Königsberger Gelehrten Gesellschaft, 18; Halle: Max Niemeyer Verlag, 1943), pp. 43–152; idem, (Tübingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag, 2nd edn, 1957), pp. 1–110 = trans.: The Deuteronomistic History ( JSOTSup, 15; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1981). 3 See G. von Rad, Theologie des Alten Testaments (2 vols; Munich: Chr. Kaiser Verlag, 1957 [vol. 1], 1960 [vol. 2]) = trans.: Old Testament Theology (trans. D. M. G. Stalker; 2 vols; Edinburgh: Oliver & Boyd, 1962 [vol. 1, from the second German edition, 1957] and 1963 [vol. 2, from the third German edition, 1960]). See also Wolff, ‘Kerygma’.
28
john barton
footnote, continuing the story for a few more years but basically confirming that Israel remained in exile, or does it hold the promise of a fresh beginning? Commentators will no doubt continue to differ about this, but what they are differing about is the overall meaning of the work; what kind of Gestalt it should have in our literary imagination. The second question, about the purpose of Old Testament documents, is asked rather less frequently. To use jargon, it may be said to be a question about the narrative’s perlocutionary force. What does the work achieve? Martin Noth had an answer to this question as it relates to the Deuteronomistic History. Its purpose was theodicy, the explanation of the disaster that had befallen Israel in terms of the justice of God. The work was meant to convince its readers that the disaster of exile was a fully justified punishment by the God of Israel of his own people because of their constant backsliding and apostasy. Much the same may be said of some prophetic books. In Amos, for example, the aim of the compiler is to explain why the people have experienced bad fortune and to attribute this not to bad luck or human causes but to the avenging anger of God. We might say that von Rad and Wolff also had an answer to the question about the purpose of the deuteronomistic work. It was written, they thought, to raise the spirits of those in exile, to assure them that God still had promises which he would fulfil in due time, and so to rejuvenate their life as exiles with the promise of better days to come. But they did not disagree with Noth that there was also a purpose in relation to theodicy. Only when the people could be brought to see why they had suffered could there be hope of improvement in the future, so that the promises might find a response from a newly responsive community. The third question might be called a form-critical one. In what context, in what social situation, were various Old Testament documents meant to be encountered or used? This question is perhaps most discussed in relation to the Psalms where, since Gunkel4 and Mowinckel,5 it has been normal to concentrate on the supposed use 4 See H. Gunkel, ‘Psalmen’, in F. M. Schiele et al. (eds.), Die Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart: Handwörterbuch in gemeinverständlicher Darstellung (5 vols; Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1909–1913), vol. 4, cols. 1927–1949 = trans.: The Psalms: A Form-Critical Introduction (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1967). 5 S. Mowinckel, Offersang og Sangoffer (Oslo: Aschehoug, 1951) = trans.: The Psalms in Israel’s Worship (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1962).
historiography and theodicy in the old testament
29
in worship of many Psalms—almost to the exclusion of other questions about them. Where individual prophetic utterances are concerned, we know (or think we know) roughly how people were to encounter them: in some kind of public gathering in the case of oracles directed to all the people; in a court session of some sort in the case of oracles given to the king. But we are less sure that we know how prophetic books were meant to be used. They may have been meant for public reading in some kind of Ur-synagogue, or they may have been intended for private study, or perhaps for some combination of the two. The use of the Deuteronomistic History, in this sense, has not been much discussed. The assumption behind Martin Noth’s treatment of it as the conscious creation of a single mind suggests, perhaps, that it be understood as a literary work and encountered like other literary works in some kind of semi-private context such as a library or archive. Von Rad, on the other hand, probably thought of it as something that was proclaimed publicly since its purpose was to give encouragement and to revive hope, but he did not explicitly say how he envisaged its reception. On the whole, an archival approach seems to lie behind both the Harvard school’s theory of a double redaction6 and the Göttingen school’s idea that the work was subjected to two (or more) further redactions after its composition7 since, in both cases, the model presupposes the activity of scribes working on an existing document and adding or changing it in accordance with their own conception of what needed to be said. But neither school, so far as I am aware, has commented much on the practical issue of the work’s use. Graeme Auld’s fascinating theory that the Deuteronomistic History is one of two divergent works based on an original source text, the Book of Two Houses (the other being Chronicles)8 similarly seems to work with a model according to which
6 See F. M. Cross, Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic: Essays in the History of the Religion of Israel (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1973); R. D. Nelson, The Double Redaction of the Deuteronomistic History ( JSOTSup, 18; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1981). 7 See R. Smend, Die Entstehung des Alten Testaments (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 3rd edn, 1984); W. Dietrich, Prophetie und Geschichte: Eine redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zum deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerk (FRLANT, 108; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1972); T. Veijola, Die ewige Dynastie: David und die Entstehung seiner Dynastie nach der deuteronomistischen Darstellung (AASF Ser. B, 193; Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1975). 8 A. G. Auld, Kings without Privilege: David and Moses in the Story of the Bible’s Kings (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994).
30
john barton
the work would have been encountered as a written text in a library or archive, but he does not make this explicit. On the whole it is probably fair to say that most redaction-critical work on the Deuteronomistic History has not asked what I have called the form-critical question. Scholars have been content to ask about the Tendenz of the work, which is a question about its meaning, and to ask what effect it was meant to have on its readers, which is a question about its purpose, but they have not generally gone on to speculate about the practical issue of how the readers were meant to come across and get to ‘read’ the work at all. It seems to me, however, that this question is an important one. As a tribute to Graeme Auld, whose own work on Old Testament historiography is such a model of careful analysis, I should like to explore this issue a little further. The hint of a possible answer was proposed by Julius Wellhausen. Describing Kings, he wrote: The writer looks back on the time of the kings as a period past and closed, on which judgment has already been declared. Even at the consecration of the temple the thought of its destruction is not to be restrained; and throughout the book the ruin of the nation and its two kingdoms is present to the writer’s mind. This is the light in which the work is to be read; it shows why the catastrophe was unavoidable. It was so because of unfaithfulness to Jehovah, because of the utterly perverted tendency obstinately followed by the people in spite of the Torah of Jehovah and His prophets. The narrative becomes, as it were, a great confession of sins of the exiled nation looking back on its history.9
The whole Deuteronomistic History might similarly be regarded as a confession of national sin, and this is true whether it sees nothing beyond the disaster, as Noth thought, or holds out a hope for restoration, as argued by von Rad and Wolff. In telling the story of how Israel left Egypt for Canaan, but once there behaved in such a way that those who were not exiled to Babylon returned to Egypt (thus nullifying the exodus), the History expresses the conviction that Israel is a sinful people and deserves the punishment it has received from the hands of God. If such a historical account were to be recited in a context of penitence, it would indeed function as a ‘great confession of sin’. 9 J. Wellhausen, Prolegomena to the History of Israel (Edinburgh: Adam and Charles Black, 1885), p. 278 (my emphasis) = trans.: Prolegomena zur Geschichte Israels (Berlin: Georg Reimer, 1883), 2nd edition of Geschichte Israels I (Berlin: Georg Reimer, 1878).
historiography and theodicy in the old testament
31
We possess few examples of ancient Israelite confessions, but those we do have tend to confirm that the description of past national acts of rebellion against God formed the core of the text. Such is the case in the three ‘chapter 9’ confessions: Ezra 9, Nehemiah 9 and Daniel 9. The same is true of Isa 63.7–64.12 and Psalm 106. In each case the goodness of the God of Israel is contrasted with the disobedience and evil conduct of his people. Indeed, it is hard to see what other form a confession would be likely to take, though it is noteworthy that seldom do we seem to find a recollection of contemporary misdeeds: rather, the person making confession runs through the misdeeds of ancestors and forebears. It is as though the sins of Israel, like the saving acts of God, had a kind of privileged period in which they were at their most paradigmatic, and it is that period— the days of ‘our kings, our officials, our priests, and our ancestors’ (Neh 9.34)—that is continually recalled. Thus one might reconstruct a use for the Deuteronomistic History, despite its great length, as a text with which confession was to be made in the lament liturgies of the exilic age that are surmised from the existence of the book of Lamentations and the evidence of Zechariah.10 Of course there is no direct evidence that would help us to imagine how it might actually have been used. I wonder, however, whether Noth’s theory that it is punctuated by the great speeches placed in the mouth of leading figures (rather than by the later chapter and book divisions) might suggest its use over a period of several days, each concluding with the appropriate speech. It is impossible to specify at what stage in its complex redaction the work might have functioned in this way. The addition of the ‘prophetic’ and ‘nomistic’ elements hypothesised by the Göttingen school might have been added after it passed from actual use into archival conservation or might, on the other hand, be evidence of gradual revision year by year as it was increasingly made more apt for its purpose (in the view of the redactors). As to this I would not hazard a guess. But the idea that it was intended for some kind of liturgical use, in
10 A liturgical origin for the History was proposed nearly thirty years ago by Michael Goulder: ‘The completed D-corpus was never intended to be a literary work, laid by, like Hilkiah’s book of the law, to be found during Temple renovations. It was intended and used for liturgical proclamation’. See M. D. Goulder, The Evangelists’ Calendar: A Lectionary Explanation of the Development of Scripture (London: SCM Press, 1978), p. 114.
32
john barton
a context that most believe to have characterised the exilic age, seems to me one worth pondering. A liturgical theory for the origin of the Deuteronomistic History will naturally not account for it without remainder and will not explain the various elements left over from the earlier collections it subsumes into itself. For example, the whole cycle of stories about Elijah and Elisha will have had an independent existence, as will the ‘Succession Narrative’ and indeed all the stories of Saul and Samuel, and there is little to suggest that these have been extensively changed to reflect the exilic situation of lament and penitence. The work is not constructed, after all, out of whole cloth, and Noth’s editor, even if he was one individual with a single vision, was constrained in many ways by the materials at his disposal. But that is a problem for any theory of the origin of the work. All I would suggest is that at some stage in its redaction—a stage which we cannot reconstruct with any exactness—the work was shaped to function as a corporate confession of the sins of long generations of Israelites and was intended for recitation within whatever institutions of worship existed during the exilic age—whether in Judah or in Babylonia. Such a theory might also help to reconcile to some extent the ‘pessimistic’ and ‘optimistic’ interpretations of the History, i.e. the positions of Noth and von Rad. Hope, we might say, is contextually implied in the very fact of a confession of sin, for the purpose of confession is to acknowledge guilt and so open a door for God to forgive. Even if the actual content of the History contained no hints at all of hope (and von Rad surely showed that it does contain some), yet its very existence indicates that the leaders of the community thought that there was point in lamenting and bewailing the national sin. The pattern, especially of Judges of course, strongly suggests that God always and eventually intervenes on behalf of his people, however grievous their offences, but even the more darkly pessimistic Kings can hold out hope of salvation by making it possible for the true extent of sin to be liturgically acknowledged. Thus rather than looking for hope at the level of the work’s meaning, we might find it in the way the work was meant to be used. As with the lament liturgy in Joel, the expression of penitence and contrition would have the aim of leading God to ‘repent’ himself, that is, to think better of the affliction he had brought on his people. Repentance, in the narratives that address it in the Old Testament, seems generally to consist of constructing a theodicy—telling God
historiography and theodicy in the old testament
33
that he has been righteous in bringing disaster, in the hope that this recognition will prompt him to reconsider his intentions for the future. This raises, we may say, the question of the Sitz im Leben of theodicy in ancient Israel. It is little exaggeration to say that theodicy is the central theme of the Old Testament—the attempt to show that God is just in his dealings with his people and that whatever ill happens to them, they have deserved it. Even promise normally arises out of a prior conviction of just judgement, it does not come out of the blue—that is apparent, for example, even in the glowing promises of Deutero-Isaiah, which presuppose a preceding justified destruction (cf. Isa 42.24–5; 50.1). But what was the social location in ancient Israel of attempts at theodicy? It seems highly likely that it was the liturgy. It was in worship that awareness of guilt was expressed, both for the individual and for the nation. Prophetic theodicies emerged when the prophets were speaking to Israel’s representatives in some kind of public gathering, probably at the time of a festival or fast. It is hard to imagine that texts expressing theodicy were written for private study; rather, they presuppose a group gathered together for worship. If that is the normal context for theodicy, then it would make sense for such a work as the Deuteronomistic History to have been compiled with public liturgical use in mind. The reading of Israel’s history would not have been something to be done privately in an archive or library but would have been a corporate act undertaken in a congregational setting. Theodicy is accomplished by a worshipping group mulling over its past and seeking to discern how and why things went wrong, and where God was in it all. The History provides, as it were, the ‘text’ for such a gathering to reflect on.
THE BOOKS OF CHRONICLES AND THE SCROLLS FROM QUMRAN George J. Brooke 1. Introduction In this short study in honour of Graeme Auld I wish to consider briefly four partially interrelated aspects of the Books of Chronicles in the light of the scrolls found in the eleven caves at and near Qumran.1 Graeme Auld’s own work on the historical books of the Hebrew Bible is well known. For the Books of Chronicles in particular he has argued for a reorientation of how the relationship between Chronicles and Samuel–Kings should be envisaged. Rather than seeing a simple line of dependence of Chronicles on Samuel– Kings, Auld has proposed that scholars should consider that both the compilers of Samuel–Kings and the Chronicler used a common source which is readily discernible in the text that the two works share; each then developed that common source in distinct ways. Since the starting point in each section of this paper is the evidence from Qumran, it is not necessary to enter into any lengthy arguments about the composition history of Chronicles or about its date and authorship.2 Nevertheless, although this paper is primarily about the reception of Chronicles in the second and first centuries bce, such reception offers insight into the nature of the Books of Chronicles too and appears partially to vindicate elements of Auld’s approach. 1 J. Trebolle Barrera, ‘Chronicles, First and Second Books of ’, in L. H. Schiffman and J. C. VanderKam (eds.), Encyclopedia of the Dead Sea Scrolls (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), p. 129, offers a concise note on Chronicles in the Dead Sea Scrolls but with little explanation or interpretation. 2 ‘[A] consensus for the dating of Chronicles is tending toward the early Greek period, perhaps the late fourth century, but more probably the early third century bce . . . If the books are to be dated to the early Greek period, however, they may still have been composed substantially in the Persian period’ (L. L. Grabbe, A History of the Jews and Judaism in the Second Temple Period, Volume 1: Yehud: A History of the Persian Province of Judah [LSTS, 47; London: T & T Clark International, 2004], p. 98). This view is largely endorsed in the most recent substantial commentary on Chronicles by G. N. Knoppers, 1 Chronicles 1–9: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB, 12; New York: Doubleday, 2004), pp. 116–17.
36
george j. brooke 2. 4QSama and the ‘Book of Two Houses’
Auld’s argument that Kings and Chronicles are independent reworkings of a common source that he labels the ‘Book of Two Houses’3 is based almost entirely, so it seems, on his comparison of the two works on the basis of the Masoretic Text, for all that he acknowledges from time to time that the evidence of the versions may support his approach. In his most complete presentation of his proposal, Kings without Privilege,4 Auld makes no explicit reference to F. M. Cross’s and E. Ulrich’s work on 4QSama,5 though he does note briefly the relevance of Hebrew texts found in the Qumran caves. This is no doubt because his thesis is based on a comparison of large sections of Kings and Chronicles and concerns the Books of Samuel only incidentally,6 and the case for Kings may indeed be rather different from that for Samuel. Nevertheless, it is surely significant for Auld’s thesis that it seems as if the Chronicler worked from a text of Samuel other than that found in the MT. Cross long ago suggested that ‘examination of the passages of the large Samuel manuscript (4QSama) which are paralleled in Chronicles gives direct evidence that the Chronicler often utilised an edition of Samuel closer to the tradition of the Cave IV scroll than to that which survived in the Masoretic recension’.7 This was ratified by Ulrich’s analysis of 4QSama that produced the striking two-pronged result that is worth repeating: Searching for the root of this 4Q C agreement, we are impressed with two observations. First, the 4Q C agreements are mostly original S readings corrupt in M, or narrative expansions typical of the Palestinian text tradition, e.g., the Samaritan Pentateuch. The 4Q C agreements are thus a subset of the larger pattern 4Q = OG/pL OL C ≠ M. 3
The houses of David and of Yahweh in Jerusalem. A. G. Auld, Kings without Privilege: David and Moses in the Story of the Bible’s Kings (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994). 5 F. M. Cross, The Ancient Library of Qumran and Modern Biblical Studies (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1958; The Biblical Seminar, 30; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 3rd edn, 1995); E. C. Ulrich, The Qumran Text of Samuel and Josephus (HSM, 19; Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1978). 6 As he has made plain in the defence of his ideas. See, e.g., A. G. Auld, ‘What Was the Main Source of the Books of Chronicles?’, in M. P. Graham and S. L. McKenzie (eds.), The Chronicler as Author: Studies in Text and Texture ( JSOTSup, 263; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), pp. 91–99. 7 Cross, The Ancient Library of Qumran and Modern Biblical Studies, p. 141 (139 in the 3rd edn). 4
the books of chronicles and the scrolls from qumran
37
Secondly, none of the 4Q C agreements either betrays characteristics commonly associated with the Chronicler’s specific interests (Levitical, genealogical, cultic, etc.) or displays new types of variation from M due to the fact that C now provides a parallel.8
This view of the state of affairs has been endorsed once again in the principal edition of the Qumran Samuel manuscripts.9 On the basis of all those comments there would seem to be a prima facie case, supported by manuscript evidence, that there was an earlier tradition upon which both MT Samuel and Chronicles depended. Cross puts it thus: ‘The fragments of 4QSama underline the seriousness with which the Old Greek translator dealt with the Hebrew text, and confirm most emphatically the usefulness of the Old Greek for the establishment of a more nearly original Hebrew text’.10 Although one may eschew ever knowing much about an original Hebrew text, the implication is clear for endorsing the possibility of the early existence of Samuel material other than that now found in the MT. Furthermore, whereas the Chronicler seems to have remained faithful in many details to that source tradition, more so than could possibly have been recognised on the basis of the MT alone, the Hebrew version of Samuel represented by the MT has moved away from the common source in both minor and major ways. There may be ongoing debates about the history of the textual transmission of individual pericopae,11 but sympathetic consideration of all the textual evidence now available, both Hebrew and Greek, should enable a rich reconsideration of the relationship of Chronicles to its sources. There are two points to be made in reiterating this common knowledge that is now reconfirmed by the publication of DJD 17. First, it remains the case that 4QSama is not transmitting the text of Chronicles into the Qumran library; rather both reflect, largely independently, 8 Ulrich, The Qumran Text of Samuel and Josephus, p. 163. Abbreviations: 4Q = 4QSama; C = Chronicles, OG = Old Greek; pL = proto-Lucian; OL = Old Latin; M = MT. 9 F. M. Cross, D. W. Parry, R. J. Saley and E. Ulrich, Qumran Cave 4: XII, 1–2 Samuel (DJD, 17; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2005); sadly the textual characterisation of 4QSama on pp. 25–27 is not very detailed and includes only one brief mention of the affiliation between 4QSama and Chronicles. 10 Cross et al., Qumran Cave 4: XII, 1–2 Samuel, p. 27. 11 In several studies A. Rofé has challenged the antiquity of parts of the Hebrew text of 4QSama. See, e.g., A. Rofé, ‘4QMidrash Samuel? Observations Concerning the Character of 4QSama’, Text 19 (1998), pp. 63–74.
38
george j. brooke
the existence of a Hebrew tradition of Samuel other than that in the MT. Second, in the analysis of the relationship between Samuel–Kings and Chronicles the evidence of the MT has nearly always been given pride of place. It is now clear that a wide range of source material, including alternative forms of the Books of Samuel, needs to be considered, and that there is little difference between asserting that some of the variations between Samuel–Kings and Chronicles can be accounted for by acknowledging the existence of an alternative form of Samuel in Hebrew and that there were written sources variously used by the two ‘national epics’.12 As the wall between higher and lower criticism collapses, so the textual evidence indicates that Auld’s theory cannot simply be ruled out of court. 3. A Copy of Chronicles at Qumran? A manuscript like 4QSama cannot be understood as transmitting the text of Chronicles to the Qumran library, but was it there in its own right? Although the extant number of copies of a composition may be an accident of survival, it is nevertheless surprising that for a work as long as 1 and 2 Chronicles, there is no obvious copy in the Qumran caves. The mantra that fragments of all the books of the Hebrew Bible apart from Esther have been found at Qumran is often repeated without pause for thought.13 In fact, the one fragment that is supposed to be part of a manuscript of the Books of Chronicles needs classification with great care.14 The fragment assigned to 4Q118 contains the remains of two adjacent columns.15 For the remains of column II it is indeed possible to read something that can be reconstructed suitably as from 2 Chron 28.27–29.3, although the reconstructed line lengths are somewhat variable, even if just within a tolerable range. But, for the remains of column I, no amount of careful reconstruction of adjacent passages of Hebrew Chronicles or 12
To use Knoppers’s generic label (1 Chronicles 1–9, p. 133). E.g., by J. Lust, ‘Quotation Formulae and Canon in Qumran’, in A. van der Kooij and K. van der Toorn (eds.), Canonization and Decanonization (Studies in the History of Religions, 82; Leiden: Brill, 1998), pp. 67–77 (67). 14 Furthermore it should be noted that for Ezra–Nehemiah there is but one manuscript copy of Ezra that has come from the Qumran caves (4Q117) and none of Nehemiah. 15 For the text see J. Trebolle Barrera, ‘118. 4QChr’, in E. Ulrich et al., Qumran Cave 4: XI, Psalms to Chronicles (DJD, 16; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2000), pp. 295–97. 13
the books of chronicles and the scrolls from qumran
39
Kings will reveal the sequence of Hebrew letters that is found on the fragment. What then do we have in this manuscript, 4Q118? Is it in fact a manuscript of another composition altogether that just happens to have a small section that resembles 2 Chron 28.27–29.3? There are several possibilities. First, it is fitting in this study to consider whether 4Q118 is in fact a copy of part of the ‘Book of Two Houses’, part of the source material used by Kings and Chronicles. Auld has included 2 Chron 28.27–29.3 in his common source.16 Given the degree of variation between the material common to Kings and Chronicles which Auld is happy to assign to a common source, then there may well be enough textual flexibility to have the two words of column I in such a source. On the other hand, the logic of Auld’s position is that such variation should be kept to a minimum and so this naturally militates against 4Q118 being a version of the ‘Book of Two Houses’. This understanding of 4Q118 is unlikely, but must remain a possibility. Second it could be that 4Q118 represents a variant form of 2 Chronicles. This is not impossible, even though there is no textual evidence in support of taking the words of column I in this way. If Chronicles was recognised as a work of rewriting, then perhaps such a variation even belongs within a tradition of the further rewriting of Chronicles. Third, it could be that 4Q118 is some other kind of composition and simply quotes from or paraphrases 2 Chronicles at this point for some reason. If so, then 4Q118 would attest to the authoritative status of 2 Chronicles for the author of this composition but would not be a copy of Chronicles itself.17 Fourth, A. Rofé has wondered whether in fact like 4Q382 (Paraphrase of Kings) 4Q118 contains ‘a homiletical revision of the book of Kings that included a psalm of entreaty similar to the one attributed to Hezekiah in Isa 38:9–20’.18 Whatever the precise identification of 4Q118, it is intriguing that the Books of Chronicles are so slightly represented in the Qumran collection. Is this just an accident? ‘The scarcity of Chronicles at 16
Auld, Kings without Privilege, pp. 71, 118, 120. As noted by Trebolle Barrera, ‘118. 4QChr’, p. 295. 18 A. Rofé, ‘No Ephod or Teraphim’—oude hierateias oude dèlòn: Hosea 3:4 in the LXX and in the Paraphrases of Chronicles and the Damascus Document’, in C. Cohen, A. Hurvitz and S. M. Paul (eds.), Sefer Moshe: The Moshe Weinfeld Jubilee Volume: Studies in the Bible and the Ancient Near East, Qumran, and Post-Biblical Judaism (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2004), pp. 135–49 (143, n. 22). 17
40
george j. brooke
Qumran could be by chance, with several other manuscripts being lost. More likely, however, the small number of scrolls is by design, since Chronicles has a strong focus on Jerusalem and the Temple, from which the Qumran community had removed itself ’.19 But the matter can probably be put more strongly than this, when, alongside the contents of 4Q118, which have determined the four suggestions above, its date is also considered. Trebolle Barrera dates 4Q118 to the late Hasmonaean period (c. 50–25 bce); it has no distinctive orthographic traits. Although typological palaeographic datings are often too precise historically, we may suppose that 4Q118 was probably brought to Qumran from elsewhere in the latter half of the first century bce or later; its late arrival there corresponds with the apparent sectarian reluctance to invoke Chronicles, probably because the authoritativeness of the work was endorsed as part of the political agenda of the Hasmonaeans, as I will argue below. While the Hasmonaeans were in power, particularly in their heyday, so there really may not have been any copy of Chronicles at Qumran, just as neither 1 nor 2 Maccabees have been found in the library, probably for similar reasons. 4. Rewritten Bible? A very large number of the manuscripts found in the Qumran caves can be related to authoritative scriptural antecedents in one way or another.20 It is evident that in addition to copies of scriptural scrolls, the library contained a wide range of parabiblical and rewritten Bible compositions. Two comments are worthwhile in light of this. First, it is worth asking more directly, as Knoppers has done,21 whether the Books of Chronicles should now be seen far more obviously as part of this rewriting activity of the late Second Temple period. For some scholars the label ‘Rewritten Bible’ is of use only in relation to a narrowly defined set of narrative texts,22 while for 19
J. C. VanderKam and P. W. Flint, The Meaning of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Their Significance for Understanding the Bible, Judaism, Jesus, and Christianity (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2002), p. 118. 20 As I have tried to argue in G. J. Brooke, ‘The Dead Sea Scrolls’, in J. Barton (ed.), The Biblical World (London: Routledge, 2002), pp. 250–69. 21 Knoppers, 1 Chronicles 1–9, pp. 129–34. 22 E.g., M. J. Bernstein, ‘ “Rewritten Bible”: A Generic Category Which Has Outlived its Usefulness’, Text 22 (2005), pp. 169–96.
the books of chronicles and the scrolls from qumran
41
others it is a suitable catch-all ‘meta-genre’ for a large number of paraphrastic compositions.23 Knoppers concludes that overall Chronicles should not be classified as Rewritten Bible because it is not just an explicatory variation on Samuel–Kings; ‘it is reductive to attribute all of the Chronicler’s unique material to exegesis or theological reflection’.24 It seems to me that to insist that the designation ‘Rewritten Bible’ can only apply if a whole text is exegetical in one way or another strangely misconstrues what might have been deemed by the Chronicler to have been authoritative sources. It was not just what later came to be acknowledged as scriptural that was taken as authoritative by him—it is important not to let anachronistic notions of scripture dominate the discussion. Chronicles rewrites not just the scriptural texts as we know them in a canonical form but from within the full spectrum of authoritative Jewish tradition as that was available to the Chronicler in the fourth century bce.25 The process of moving from authority to canon is one of narrowing down from a wide range of texts, not one of being increasingly inclusive. Second, it seems that in the Hellenistic period some complete rewritings, such as the Books of Chronicles, were indeed emerging as authoritative in their own right for some Jews. The three most obvious examples provided by the Qumran library concern the appeals to the Book of Jubilees and probably to the Aramaic Levi Document in the Damascus Document 26 and the use of a citation from the Apocryphon of Joshua in Testimonia.27 Perhaps for those who collected the manuscripts in the eleven Qumran caves the Books of Chronicles should be viewed in a similar light as having an emerging authority, but of a marginal kind compared with Genesis, Deuteronomy, Isaiah, the Twelve and the Psalms. The eventual difference between Chronicles on the one hand and Jubilees and the Apocryphon of Joshua on the other is obvious: the former 23 E.g., G. J. Brooke, ‘Rewritten Bible’, in L. H. Schiffman and J. C. VanderKam (eds.), Encyclopedia of the Dead Sea Scrolls (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), pp. 777–81. 24 Knoppers, 1 Chronicles 1–9, p. 131. 25 For example, some place should be given to the ‘new’ Prayer of Manasseh found in 4Q381 33 I, 8–11 in relation to 2 Chron 33.13, 18. 26 See, e.g., J. C. Greenfield, ‘The Words of Levi Son of Jacob in Damascus Document iv, 15–19’, RevQ 13 (1988), pp. 319–22. 27 On the debate about this see H. Eshel, ‘The Historical Background of the Pesher Interpreting Joshua’s Curse on the Rebuilder of Jericho’, RevQ 15 (1992), pp. 409–20, esp. 409–12.
42
george j. brooke
became authoritative widely as part of the Writings, whereas the latter retained authority only in a restricted fashion or not at all. But actually the case is more complicated than that. Although there may be some evidence of the emerging authority of Chronicles in the compositions of the second century bce found in the Qumran library, in the first century bce it seems to have been completely marginalised or even avoided by the sectarians;28 it was certainly given much less attention than works like the Book of Jubilees. So the authority eventually given to Chronicles within Judaism is a measure of the success of the Hasmonaean project to endorse a composition like Chronicles with its ‘strong focus on Jerusalem and the Temple’29 and other matters, as described below. 5. The Residual Presence of Chronicles in the Qumran Library? In none of the scrolls that survive from the Qumran caves is there any explicit citation of the Books of Chronicles unless such is the case with the late first century 4Q118. This is true for both the socalled sectarian compositions and for the others. Some scholars, like VanderKam and Flint, might see this as the result of a deliberate policy of excluding the Books of Chronicles from the library for ideological or theological reasons. On the basis that the Hasmonaean political programme probably included the endorsement of certain compositions as part of the authoritative collection of scriptures that could be read as pro-Hasmonaean, I have argued elsewhere that the absence of obvious manuscript copies of the Books of Chronicles from the Qumran library can be understood in two ways.30 On the one hand, the community which preserved the scrolls may well have been antipathetic to the probable Hasmonaean claims to be heirs to the Davidic tradition.31 On the other, over against Hasmonaean 28 The New Testament writers also almost completely ignore 1 and 2 Chronicles and Ezra–Nehemiah. 29 VanderKam and Flint, The Meaning of the Dead Sea Scrolls, p. 118. 30 G. J. Brooke, ‘Between Authority and Canon: The Significance of Reworking the Bible for Understanding the Canonical Process’, in E. G. Chazon, D. Dimant and R. Clements (eds.), Reworking the Bible: Apocryphal and Related Texts at Qumran: Proceedings of a Joint Symposium by the Orion Center for the Study of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Associated Literature and the Hebrew University Institute for Advanced Studies Research Group on Qumran, 15–17 January, 2002 (STDJ, 58; Leiden: Brill, 2005), pp. 85–104 (88–89). 31 Cf. 1 Macc 2.57 which can be read as shifting the Davidic inheritance to the
the books of chronicles and the scrolls from qumran
43
Davidic aspirations, the community kept silent about the Davidic identification of its Messiah of Israel until the end of the first century bce. Some further support for this understanding of the evidence can be found by a consideration of those compositions in the Qumran library in which there are allusions to the Books of Chronicles. All the compositions that display the unambiguous influence of Chronicles are likely to come from the second century bce and are not clearly sectarian.32 G. Knoppers has suitably identified some of the candidates that should be discussed. He has been concerned to demonstrate that because of the use of Chronicles in these compositions, so it can be argued that by the time of their writing Chronicles had come to have authority. Thus a very late date for the Books of Chronicles seems unlikely; for Knoppers and most others it must have been around in the third century bce at the latest.33 My purpose here is not to disagree with Knoppers, but in the light of the virtual absence of Chronicles from the Qumran library to comment briefly on the compositions he cites. My suggestion in this section is that the Books of Chronicles might well have carried some weight among those compiling works in the second century bce, but that by the first century, when the probable Hasmonaean adoption of Chronicles was in full swing, the Books of Chronicles were rarely, if ever, referred to by the Qumran sectarians. To my mind the clearest influence of the Books of Chronicles in compositions found in the Qumran caves can be seen in the Temple Scroll.34 The temple material in the first section of the scroll is indeed based largely on a combination of ideas and phrases to be found in the description of the Tabernacle in Exodus, in the portrayal of Solomon’s temple in 1 Kings, and in the vision of the heavenly Hasmonaean dynasty: J. Goldstein, I Maccabees: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB, 41; New York: Doubleday, 1976), p. 240. 32 The links proposed between the Damascus Document and the Books of Chronicles are very slight so that it is not suitable to make detailed comments on them. See, e.g., J. G. Campbell, The Use of Scripture in the Damascus Document 1–8, 19–20 (BZAW, 228; Berlin: W. de Gruyter, 1995), p. 182, who cites the possible allusion to 2 Chron 20.7; 36.15, 16, 21; and P. Mandel, ‘Inclusio: On the Final Section of the Damascus Document and Its Literary Significance’, Meghillot: Studies in the Dead Sea Scrolls 2 (2004), pp. 57–68 (Hebrew), who wonders whether the end of the Damascus Document is modelled on 2 Chron 24.23–27. 33 Knoppers, 1 Chronicles 1–9, pp. 109–11. 34 See also the comments of Y. Thorion, ‘Die Sprache der Tempelrolle und die Chronikbüker’, RevQ 11 (1982–84), pp. 423–28.
44
george j. brooke
temple in Ezekiel 40–48. Nevertheless in two ways the influence of Chronicles can be observed. First, as Yadin has noted, the entire motivation for the composition seems to depend on the way in which 1 Chron 28.11–12 and v. 19 describes how David has received a template for the temple which he passes to Solomon.35 Second, in a short study and in his detailed monograph D. D. Swanson has made it plain that amongst the influential sources behind some sections of the Temple Scroll room must be made for the Books of Chronicles.36 It was not sufficient to refer to the accounts of the Tabernacle in the Pentateuch, the description of the Temple in 1 Kings and the visionary perspectives of Ezekiel 40–48 for filling out the details of the plan; reference had to be made also to the special material in the Books of Chronicles. Several other themes that are dominant in Chronicles can be discerned as lying behind certain sections of the Temple Scroll: among these are Levitical preferences and the concern in places to subordinate the king to the priest. A second composition to be considered is 4Q522, an Apocryphon of Joshua. In some lines the phraseology in this composition is closer to that of the Books of Chronicles (1 Chron 21.18–22.1) than to any other scriptural source. More significantly, in fragment 9 there is a prediction that implies that one day the son of Jesse will take responsibility for collecting the building materials and finances for the construction of the temple, even though his son will actually build it. This seems to reflect the position of the Chronicler who has David take pride of place in relation to the temple and its plans, whereas Kings assigns the role to Solomon himself. There is nothing sectarian in 4Q522 and E. Puech, its editor, has dated its composition to the mid-second century bce.37 Overall, the text of 4Q522 does not
35 Y. Yadin, The Temple Scroll (3 vols; Jerusalem: The Israel Exploration Society, The Institute of Archaeology of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, The Shrine of the Book, 1983), 1:82–83. 36 D. D. Swanson, ‘The Use of Chronicles in 11QT: Aspects of a Relationship’, in D. Dimant and U. Rappoport (eds.), The Dead Sea Scrolls: Forty Years of Research (STDJ, 10; Leiden: E. J. Brill; Jerusalem: Magnes Press, The Hebrew University, Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi, 1992), pp. 290–98; idem, The Temple Scroll and the Bible: The Methodology of 11QT (STDJ, 14; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1995); G. Steins, Die Chronik als kanonisches Abschlussphänomen: Studien zur Entstehung und Theologie von 1 / 2 Chronik (BBB, 93; Bodenheim: Anton Hain, 1995), has argued that it was the other way round: the author of 2 Chronicles 3 knew a text akin to the Temple Scroll. 37 E. Puech, Qumrân Grotte 4: XVII, Textes Hébreux (4Q521–4Q528, 4Q576–4Q579) (DJD, 25; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998), pp. 70–71.
the books of chronicles and the scrolls from qumran
45
whole-heartedly endorse the views of Chronicles. Rather, ‘[i]t is not impossible that 4Q522 comes to grips with the various biblical traditions embedded in the Books of Joshua and Judges regarding the ark, explaining how the ark came to Bethel and moved from there to Shiloh, where it was indeed found at a later stage according to Josh. 18’.38 Or again: ‘This nonsectarian text contains a prophecy explaining why Joshua did not conquer Jerusalem or establish the Temple there’.39 Two other sets of manuscripts also need to be considered briefly. In the War Rule there is some detailed description of the means for conscription for the army (1QM II, 6–8, 10).40 This does not follow a pattern of tribal or geographical mustering, but a system based on selection by the heads of the congregation which keeps to an annual rotation of divisions in which each division is composed of units from all the tribes. Y. Yadin suggested that this is more akin to the mustering described in 1 Chronicles 27 than to that in 1 Kings 4,41 but a close look at the phrasing of the War Rule shows that even if there might be a general attempt to imitate the system of Chronicles, 1 Chronicles 27 provides none of the technical terminology or precise details, such as length of service. If there is any influence of Chronicles in the War Rule, it is so indirect as to be almost unnoticeable. The same cannot be said for the lists of the priestly courses presented in several ‘Tables of Priestly Watches’ (4Q320–4Q324a; 4Q324c–4Q325; 4Q328–4Q330). The names of the twenty-four divisions of priests detailed in these tables derive from a list embedded in the account of King David’s testament in 1 Chronicles 22–29 . . . The Qumran finds preserve, in fact, the earliest extrabiblical duplicates of the biblical roster, with the only difference being that the list is headed by Gamul, in service already
38 E. Tov, ‘The Rewritten Book of Joshua as Found at Qumran and Masada’, in M. E. Stone and E. G. Chazon (eds.), Biblical Perspectives: Early Use and Interpretation of the Bible in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Proceedings of the First International Symposium of the Orion Center for the Study of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Associated Literature, 12–14 May 1996 (STDJ, 28; Leiden: Brill, 1998), pp. 233–56 (247). 39 E. Eshel, ‘Jubilees 32 and the Bethel Cult Traditions in Second Temple Literature’, in E. G. Chazon, D. Satran and R. A. Clements (eds.), Things Revealed: Studies in Early Jewish and Christian Literature in Honor of Michael E. Stone ( JSJSup, 89; Leiden: Brill, 2004), pp. 21–36 (25). 40 This section of the War Rule might date from the 2nd century bce. 41 Y. Yadin, The Scroll of the War of the Sons of Light Against the Sons of Darkness (London: Oxford University Press, 1962), pp. 79–86.
46
george j. brooke at the time of Creation, while in the Chronicles version, the course Jehoiarib heads the list.42
The authoritative force of the list in 1 Chron 24.7–18 is visible most notably in the way in which the twenty-four courses are not expanded by two in order to fit the annual cycle of two weeks service in each fifty-two week year, but the twenty-four courses are rotated so that at the end of a six-year cycle the system begins again with each course in its allotted place. But it should also be noted that the difference in starting point could support the overall argument of this essay. The change from Jehoiarib to Gamul ‘may reflect the covenanters’ opposition to the Hasmoneans, who claimed descent from Jehoiarib’ (1 Macc 2.1).43 The calendrical compositions that contain the list of priestly courses date roughly from between the last quarter of the second century bce and the last quarter of the first century bce and so cover a large part of the period of Hasmonaean domination. Thus, even when the community felt obliged to follow a tradition from the Books of Chronicles, it was consistently adjusted in an anti-Hasmonaean fashion.44 From the first century bce there is only one sectarian composition that seems to cite the Books of Chronicles. In 4Q252, Commentary on Genesis A, there is a short bridging passage between one section and another in which there is a short phrase, ‘a land he gave to Abraham his friend’ ("rß ntn l"brhm "hbw) that resembles the language of 2 Chron 20.7, ‘Did you not, O our God, drive out the inhabitants of this land before your people Israel, and give it forever to the descendants of your friend Abraham?’ Now, the text in 4Q252 is certainly not a quotation of 2 Chronicles. It is possible that it should be understood as part of poetic triplet being used in 4Q252 II, 7–8 to link 42 S. Talmon with the assistance of J. Ben-Dov, ‘Calendrical Documents and Mishmarot’, in S. Talmon, J. Ben-Dov and U. Glessmer, Qumran Cave 4: XVI, Calendrical Texts (DJD, 21; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2001), pp. 1–166 (8). 43 G. N. Knoppers, 1 Chronicles 10 –29: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB, 12A; New York: Doubleday, 2004), p. 842; with many others Knoppers rightly argues against seeing this as evidence that the Books of Chronicles are a Maccabean composition. 44 The list in 1 Chron 24.7–18 seems to belong to the last priestly editing of the Chronicler’s work and may reflect the reform of the Jerusalem priesthood in the late Persian period. See H. G. M. Williamson, 1 and 2 Chronicles (NCB; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans; London: Marshall, Morgan & Scott, 1982), p. 158. How the priesthood in the movement related to the Qumran community was descended from such reforms and subsequent upheavals in the temple priesthood is a story yet to be told fully.
the books of chronicles and the scrolls from qumran
47
a section on the curse of Canaan with a passage commenting on the journey of Abram to the land: ‘God blessed the sons of Noah (Gen. 9.1)/ and in the tents of Shem may He dwell (Gen 9.27a)/ a land he gave to Abraham his friend (cf. 2 Chron 20.7)’. This seems all the more likely, given that the compiler of 4Q252 then reverts to using Abram as he follows through with the sequence of Genesis. Elsewhere I have wondered whether this poetic bridge passage is in fact a quotation from an epic poem rather than a direct citation from 2 Chron 20.7.45 If so, it could be that the phraseology of 2 Chronicles itself is a reflection of the same poem. Although the compiler of 4Q252 could be creating a new passage for his own purposes, this is somewhat uncharacteristic, since throughout he seems to be compiling his commentary from extracts from a number of sources. The corresponding familiarity of Chronicles with epic poetry is well known, as is attested by the place of Psalms 105 and 106 in 1 Chronicles 16.46 Thus it seems that even 4Q252 provides no clearly unambiguous use of the Books of Chronicles in a first century bce sectarian text.47 6. Conclusion In this short study I have argued four things. First, 4QSama indicates that Chronicles preserves evidence for a Hebrew text of Samuel that is earlier than that of the MT. Thus for Samuel both MT and Chronicles rewrite earlier texts and incorporate other sources; why not for Kings too? Second, seeing Chronicles as part of the ‘meta-genre’ of Rewritten Bible enables the better appreciation of the processes of its formation and eventual move from authority to canon, even though a more precise generic label is also required. Third, some sections of the Books of Chronicles have been of ongoing influence in some compositions found in the Qumran library. It is likely that the existence of a temple plan in 1 Chronicles and 45 G. J. Brooke, ‘The Genre of 4Q252: From Poetry to Pesher’, Dead Sea Discoveries 1 (1994), pp. 160–79 (167–68). 46 Though who is citing whom is open to debate. See G. J. Brooke, ‘Psalms 105 and 106 at Qumran’, RevQ 14 (1989–90), pp. 267–92. 47 The same can be said for 4Q174 which some have supposed to be citing 1 Chron 17.9–13 but which is more likely to be an alternative form of Samuel as in 4QSama.
48
george j. brooke
other details of the role of David in the building of the temple can be noticed in the Temple Scroll and the non-sectarian 4Q522. The list of priestly courses in 1 Chron 24.7–18 is echoed in the Qumran calendrical texts, but it is altered so that it is headed by Gamul not Jehoiarib. But claims that Chronicles is very much behind part of the War Rule or one section of the Commentary of Genesis A are grossly overstated. Fourth, the paucity of explicit evidence for the Books of Chronicles in the Qumran community can be interpreted not just as an antipathy towards some of its views on Jerusalem and the temple but as a deliberate attempt to avoid a text which was probably having its authority endorsed by the Hasmonaeans as part of their political agenda. Even when one element of the priestly organisation referred to in Chronicles is preserved and utilised, it is carefully adjusted to fit a view of the significance of the calendar which puts creation first and those who might claim descent from Jehoiarib firmly in their place. The absence of copies of the Books of Chronicles from the Qumran library in the first half of the first century bce thus becomes negative evidence for the role of the Hasmonaeans in contributing to the authoritative and eventually canonical status of the Chronicler’s work.
A ROYAL PRIVILEGE: DINING IN THE PRESENCE OF THE GREAT KING (2 KINGS 25.27–30) Ronald E. Clements 1. Introduction Professor Auld has contributed towards unravelling the several mysteries of ancient Israelite historiography with his study of the literary background of the Former Prophets entitled, Kings Without Privilege.1 It is appropriate, therefore, to begin this short study of four of the key verses of the history of the Former Prophets by looking at one of the most striking and significant privileges that was accorded to one of the least enviable of Judah’s kings. This is found at the very close of the narrative of 2 Kings and concerns the remarkable change of fortune regarding the circumstances pertaining to the Babylonian exile of the ill-starred king Jehoiachin of Judah. The passage reads: (27) In the thirty-seventh year of the exile of King Jehoiachin of Judah, in the twelfth month, on the twenty-seventh day of the month, King Evil-merodach of Babylon, in the year that he began to reign, released King Jehoiachin of Judah from prison; (28) he spoke kindly to him, and gave him a seat above the other seats of the kings who were with him in Babylon. (29) So Jehoiachin put aside his prison clothes. Every day of his life he dined regularly in the king’s presence. (30) For his allowance a regular allowance was given him by the king, a portion every day, as long as he lived (2 Kgs 25.27–30, nrsv).
These verses have understandably attracted a great deal of attention, on account of what they imply about the author’s interest in the destiny, and potential future, of the Davidic royal dynasty. The immediately preceding narratives relating to the siege and fall of Jerusalem and the humiliation and suffering of King Zedekiah highlight this royal family’s severe misfortunes.
1 A. G. Auld, Kings without Privilege: David and Moses in the Story of the Bible’s Kings (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994).
50
ronald e. clements 2. Jehoiachin’s Release as a Historical and Literary Problem
This report regarding King Jehoiachin’s release from imprisonment and survival in Babylon introduces an altogether different note regarding the royal family. It raises questions regarding the kingship and its possible role in Israel’s future in a way that compels the reader to ask what the author’s purpose may have been in drawing attention to this singular change in the former king’s fortunes. Obviously if this reversal in the conditions of Jehoiachin’s exile were widely known this fact would undoubtedly have raised hopes, in the eyes of some persons at least, about the future of Judah’s ancient royal house in general. Jehoiachin’s new privileges could well have given credence to expectations that the day was not far off when a new line of kings would emerge from the remnant that was left of Judah’s distinguished royal family. There clearly were some circles among the survivors of Judah’s decades of disaster which believed this to be the case (cf. Jer 23.5–6; 33.19–26; Ezek 37.24–28). Since the fate of the royal dynasty descended from David stands as the point of central focus for the story of Israel told in the Former Prophets, this report of the unexpected upturn in the fortunes of one of the last of its heirs was clearly intended to make some comment about the future of the royal house. In another direction these four verses have also been regarded as uniquely informative about the time of origin of the composition of the history which now constitutes the Former Prophets ( Joshua–2 Kings). I have elsewhere expressed the view that, to follow Martin Noth2 in labelling this the Deuteronomistic History, is to give this narrative a misleading title.3 In company with Graeme Auld,4 I remain convinced that the title should be dropped as drawing too much attention to a feature which cannot have been primary in respect of 2 M. Noth, The Deuteronomistic History ( JSOTSup, 15; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2nd edn, 1991), pp. 27, 117, 143. Cf. especially his comment on page 27: ‘. . . this gives us a definite terminus a quo for the date of Dtr’s work. We have no reason to put Dtr much later than this terminus a quo’. 3 R. E. Clements, ‘The Former Prophets and Deuteronomy—A Re-Examination’, in J. H. Ellens, D. L. Ellens, R. P. Knierim and I. Kalimi (eds.), God’s Word for Our World: Biblical Studies in Honour of Simon John De Vries ( JSOTSup, 388–389; 2 vols; London: T & T Clark International, 2004), 1:83–95. 4 A. G. Auld, ‘The Deuteronomists between History and Theology’, in A. Lemaire and M. Saebø (eds.), Congress Volume: Oslo 1998 (VTSup, 80; Leiden: Brill, 2000), pp. 353–67 (367).
a royal privilege (2 kings 25.27–30)
51
its composition. However, even among those who have endeavoured to modify Martin Noth’s claims, the reference to Jehoiachin’s release and elevation has appeared informative about the time of its final composition.5 Since the accession of the Babylonian king Evil-merodach (Amel-marduk) can be dated from the Babylonian chronology to 562 bce (or 561 on some calculations of the Babylonian chronology) this event points to one of the latest happenings referred to in the narrative of the Former Prophets. It has therefore appeared to provide a useful terminus a quo regarding the composition of the history. Moreover, with this event taking place in Babylon, it could be further taken to suggest that the work was composed in Babylon.6 However, the usefulness of the date given in these verses relating Jehoiachin’s release is significantly reduced once we take account of more recent scholarship regarding the composition of the Former Prophets. Increasingly scholars have argued that there were at least two major stages in the composition of this history. Steven McKenzie7 has followed F. M. Cross in discerning an original composition dating from the reign of King Josiah, with a subsequent expansion after the disasters of 598 and 587 bce. More recent work has pointed, not to two, but to a sequence of expansions of an original royal history of the kings of Judah and Israel.8 These additions and insertions greatly modify the original work and take account of subsequent calamitous events which marked the demise of the Davidic dynasty’s rule in Jerusalem. It appears highly plausible therefore to include the final four verses of 2 Kings among these later additions. As the latest of the events recorded, it is highly
5
Cf. most recently J. A. Emerton, ‘The Date of the Yahwist’, in J. Day (ed.), In Search of Pre-exilic Israel: Proceedings of the Oxford Old Testament Seminar ( JSOTSup, 406; London: T & T Clark International, 2004), pp. 107–29 (108): ‘The second edition [of the Former Prophets] was exilic but was prepared before the possibility of return from exile became imminent; it is probably to be dated close to 562, the year of the release of Jehoiachin from prison, the last event to be recorded in 2 Kgs 25.27–30’. 6 Cf. E. W. Nicholson, Preaching to the Exiles: A Study of the Prose Tradition in the Book of Jeremiah (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1970), pp. 116–35, but for the opposite view see Noth, Deuteronomistic History, p. 143. 7 S. L. McKenzie, The Trouble With Kings: The Composition of the Book of Kings in the Deuteronomistic History (VTSup, 42; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1991); cf. F. M. Cross, Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic: Essays in the History and Religion of Israel (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1973). 8 Cf. R. G. Kratz, The Composition of the Narrative Books of the Old Testament (trans. J. Bowden; London: T & T Clark International, 2005), pp. 95–210.
52
ronald e. clements
probable that these verses represent one of the last additions made to the history. How they may relate to other additions is therefore a matter of conjecture. However important the questions may be regarding the chronology of composition, there are further questions regarding the aim and tenor of the history in its entirety and the purpose of these four verses in particular. The original document was evidently centred upon belief in the enduring divine foundation of the royal dynasty of David, with its focal point established by the promise declared by the prophet Nathan on behalf of the Lord God of Israel (2 Sam 7.1–17).9 The composition of this royal chronicle, which A. G. Auld has described as the ‘Book of Two Houses’,10 was most probably begun in the reign of King Josiah (639–609 bce) since its ideology closely reflects what appears to have been a strong attempt at the reunification of the two divided nations during that king’s reign.11 The marked decline in the fortunes for Judah’s royal house after Josiah’s untimely death, and the short, disastrous reigns of the kings that followed him, called for a significant re-shaping of the strongly pro-Davidic narrative.12 In consequence the new material that was introduced into the narrative greatly modified the theme and character of the original history and extended the story both backwards to the era of Moses and forward to the collapse of the kingdom. The revised history had, of necessity, to present the role of Israel’s kings and the efficacy of the divine promise made to the dynasty founder, in a much altered perspective. These revised conclusions make these last four verses of 2 Kings particularly surprising. On the surface they appear to hark back to the major role played by the divine promise to King David in the original version of the history, even though they follow reports of the events which had largely destroyed the credibility of that promise. Since these four verses may be presumed to have been one of the latest of the additions that were made to the Former Prophets, it is 9 D. J. McCarthy, ‘II Samuel 7 and the Structure of the Deuteronomic History’, JBL 84 (1965), pp. 131–38; repr. in D. J. McCarthy, Institution and Narrative: Collected Essays (AnBib, 108; Rome: Biblical Institute Press, 1985), pp. 127–34. 10 Auld, ‘The Deuteronomists between History and Theology’, p. 367. 11 Cf. M. A. Sweeney, King Josiah of Judah: The Lost Messiah of Israel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), pp. 33–76. 12 Cf. G. Gakuru, An Inner-Biblical Exegetical Study of the Davidic Covenant and the Dynastic Oracle (Mellen Biblical Press Series, 58; Lewiston, NY: Edward Mellen Press, 2000).
a royal privilege (2 kings 25.27–30)
53
altogether unexpected that they should revive interest in the future of the Davidic family at such a late point in time. The alternative would be to assume that they were part of the earlier, pro-monarchic narrative and were retained as a partial amelioration of the sombre story that the last years of the monarchy proclaimed. Yet this seems highly improbable. As a consequence, even assuming the historicity and chronological reliability of the events they refer to, their inclusion seems to put in reverse the exclusively negative impact of the events that had preceded them. It is important also to keep in mind that the date they indicate provides no more than a terminus a quo for a late redaction of the history of the Former Prophets. Only Noth’s overall thesis regarding the composition of what he called ‘the Deuteronomistic History’ made the information they provide a useful pointer to the time of composition of that work. The date of Evil-merodach’s accession to the Babylonian throne, ascertainable from the Babylonian chronicles, provides no information worth having about the time of composition of the base narrative of the Former Prophets. The fact that it provides us with an indication of a late editorial expansion is of limited value since we do not know how long after Jehoachin’s release from imprisonment and death this addition was made. Martin Noth’s thesis placed the release from imprisonment, the subsequent death of the former king, and the composition of the historical work, all in a relatively brief time-scale. Once these verses are isolated from the main body of the work their interest centres more directly on the unexpectedness of the way in which they re-awaken interest in the surviving element of the Davidic family, not on their usefulness as a handle to establish a literary chronology. 3. Jehoiachin’s Release in Context Part of our concern in this paper is to question the many assumptions regarding the value for dating the composition of the Former Prophets provided by this brief historical note. Among them we must certainly include that of the historicity of the circumstances of Jehoiachin’s release and the reliability of the source from which this information was drawn. Once the editorial purpose of the report is adequately recognised it seems unlikely that the information regarding its contents was drawn from a readily available contemporary historical record.
54
ronald e. clements
If this is the case then we must cast doubt on the assumption that these verses were added relatively soon after King Jehoiachin’s death. It seems more probable that a considerable interval had elapsed after that event before these four verses were introduced as the conclusion of the narrative of 2 Kings. A primary requirement is to understand what these verses actually affirm and then to consider where the information they contain may have come from. Only then can we draw any useful conclusions about how they relate to the structure and composition of the Former Prophets. The significance of the message they contain is indissolubly bound up with the reason for their inclusion at this point. When this was likely to have been done can then be set in its proper context. Clearly it is important to acknowledge the indications of multiple stages in the composition of the Former Prophets, even though the precise scope of each addition is subject to uncertainty. This task is directly linked to the major point that there is a striking ambiguity about the completed work’s central theme. Quite evidently it has two focal centres, not one, and this somewhat elliptical focus is linked to the various stages of its composition. In one direction the focus is on the origin and history of Israel’s line of kings, with the foundation and claims of the Davidic royal house at its centre. For this narrative the story of the divine promise to King David in 2 Sam 7.1–17 provides the pivotal central event and provides it with a basic coherence of plot and purpose. In the other direction there is a perspective of a different order. This has, at its central emphasis, an appeal to the authority of the book of torah given by Moses in the Plains of Moab. Israel is constantly judged in accordance with the basic precepts of this torah which establishes a perspective that is sceptical of the value of kingship altogether. Seen from this perspective the kings are largely responsible for Israel’s downfall. Monarchy, as an institution, is made subordinate to the constitutional torah given through Moses and the conduct of the kings after David is set in a far from complimentary light. That this second theme has its focus on the torah of Moses has provided the reason for describing the history as ‘Deuteronomistic’. In this revised version of the original history the figure of Moses overshadows, but does not altogether displace, that of David as the unique and supreme leader of Israel. Seen from this point of view these enigmatic last four verses of 2 Kings appear as an ‘after-thought’— a codicil to the Mosaic charter of Israel—harking back to a theme
a royal privilege (2 kings 25.27–30)
55
which the revised overall structure has otherwise rendered secondary. They suggest that, contrary to the implied message of the immediately preceding events, there may after all be a major role for the surviving branch of the Davidic royal house to fulfil. This twofold thematic and structural shape to the history of the Former Prophets lends a touch of ambiguity to its message about the tragedies of the past and the hope for the future which scholars have noted. It hovers between a striking confidence and optimism linked to the Davidic royal promise and a note of condemnation, lamentation and near despair, focused on Israel’s disobedience to the Mosaic torah. Kingship, even that drawn from the royal dynasty of David, is both redemptive and ruinous. Apart from these final four verses of 2 Kings the message of the twilight years of Judah’s kingship is so stark and relentless in its sharpness that the assurances of hope and confidence expressed earlier appear eclipsed. Israel failed because its kings failed to live up to the example of obedience that King David had set. A unique point of interest of 2 Kgs 25.27–30, therefore, rests on the unexpected nature of the message which these verses appear to give regarding the role of the Davidic royal house. They re-open a door of hope linked to the future of that dynasty, but fail to specify clearly what form exactly this renewed hope may take. When these verses are placed in the setting of the probable editorial developments of the history of the Former Prophets, their return to the basic theme of the earliest stratum appears all the more enigmatic. It occasions no surprise therefore that conflicting interpretations should have arisen among modern interpreters regarding their significance. By appearing to favour the interpretation that, after all that has happened, there remains a special role for the remnant of the Davidic royal house to fulfil, these verses allow the possibility that there may be an eventual restoration of the dynasty to the throne in Jerusalem. Yet this can hardly have been intended since they leave Jehoiachin, the last of those kings who had actually reigned in Jerusalem, already dead, and recall that he had suffered a long and painful exile in Babylon. Only in his last days had he enjoyed privileges appropriate to royalty. There is no word at all about his substantial family and what the future was to hold for them. Certainly nothing is said to encourage the belief that they might one day return to their ancestral throne. In these verses Jehoiachin belongs to the past, not to the future of Israel. His status is that of an exile and scarcely that
56
ronald e. clements
of a royal pretender to a vacant throne. Had anything more than this been part of the intention behind their inclusion, then we should certainly have expected the point to be made more clearly. 4. The Historical Background to Jehoiachin’s Release from Imprisonment We have already expressed the need for caution about the acceptance by historians of the general historicity of the circumstances and time of Jehoiachin’s release from his Babylonian imprisonment. Evil-merodach’s accession to the Babylonian throne has been dated to the year 562 bce and this report declares this to have been the moment for King Jehoiachin’s release. The details they relate about what then happened to Jehoiachin are instructive in their reflection of the significance attached to royal protocol. The privilege of dining with the ‘Great King’—the world’s greatest of that period—was quite evidently intended as a very high honour indeed for one who was the former ruler of a relatively minor kingdom. Eating with so august a ruler was a mark of special privilege, as would still be the case today. Not only was it a sign of the highest honour for Jehoiachin, but it hints at the comparable and favourable implications concerning the relationship between the Babylonian court and other Judean survivors of the catastrophes that had overtaken Jerusalem. Jehoiachin was clearly being treated with great respect and this honour is heightened still more in that he is said to have dined in this august fashion daily, and to have occupied ‘a seat above the other seats of the kings who were with him in Babylon’ (v. 28). The point appears intended to highlight Jehoiachin’s unique status as a member of the line of David and a former king in Jerusalem. This was no ordinary royal dynasty! The ex-king’s unique significance is indicated and is designed to show that, even in exile, here was a person who was high above other kings of the earth. All these affirmations raise questions regarding their historicity. The verses show signs of being designed to uphold the traditional ascriptions of greatness promised to King David and his heirs in Israel’s royal psalms, rather than deriving from internally preserved records of life at the Babylonian court. Three features relating to the context of this report of ancient royal protocol may be noted. The first concerns whether this change of fortune for the former king of
a royal privilege (2 kings 25.27–30)
57
Judah is independently verifiable. The publication of documentary evidence from Babylonian tablets of the daily food allowance for a certain ‘Ya"ukina of Yaudu’ has been taken to provide independent (Babylonian) evidence of the favourable treatment of Jehoiachin and his family in Babylon.13 Assuming that the identification is correct, the date of the tablet (592 bce) is prior to Amel-marduk’s accession. In itself it offers no support for the claim that Jehoiachin’s treatment was uniquely favourable. Certainly there is no inherent improbability in the assertion that the year of accession of a new king to the throne of Babylon would have been an occasion when such gestures of clemency, demonstrating royal authority, were publicly made. Both V. Fritz14 and R. G. Kratz15 describe the episode as ‘The Pardoning of Jehoiachin’, and this appears to be how the story is meant to be understood. It could well be that the change in his situation was a widely known fact and is effectively the sum of all that is historically known about Jehoiachin’s later days.16 The story appears simply to reflect popular knowledge that some improvement occurred in the status accorded to the former king of Judah. This is based on knowledge of the Babylonian court protocol which displayed its authority over subordinate royal personages. Royalty remained royal and deserved respect! A second point concerns whether any particular circumstance in the Babylonian royal succession may have motivated the Babylonian ruler Evil-merodach to honour Jehoiachin in this way17 and whether this was linked to any change in the status of the administration of the territory of the former kingdom of Judah. Clearly no evidence
13 Cf. J. H. Hayes and J. M. Miller, Israelite and Judean History (London: SCM Press, 1977), p. 471. The original publication of the tablets was made by E. F. Weidner, ‘Jojachin, König von Juda, in babylonischen Keilschrifttexten’, in Mélanges Syriens offert à Monsieur René Dussaud (Bibliothèque Archéologique et Historique, 30; 2 vols; Paris: Paul Geuthner, 1939), 2:923–25. 14 V. Fritz, 1 & 2 Kings: A Continental Commentary (trans. A. Hagedorn; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003), p. 425. 15 Kratz, Composition, p. 169. 16 The particular treatment is viewed by Moshe Weinfeld as indicative of a formal act of establishing a grant, for which he adduces a number of ANE parallels. Cf. M. Weinfeld, ‘The Counsel of the “Elders” to Rehoboam and Its Implications’, in G. N. Knoppers and J. G. McConville (eds.), Reconsidering Israel and Judah: Recent Studies on the Deuteronomistic History (Sources for Biblical and Theological Study, 8; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2000), pp. 516–39 (538–39). 17 Cf. Weinfeld, ‘Counsel of the “Elders”’, p. 539.
58
ronald e. clements
is available on either front and we remain ignorant of any such possible royal motives from the Babylonian side. A third point may also be noted. From a historical perspective, questions have been raised concerning what precisely the status of Jehoiachin was at this time. Several scholars have argued that the references to him as ‘king of Judah’ in 2 Kgs 25.27 should be interpreted in their full constitutional weight.18 On such a reckoning he would then have remained the authorised ‘king of Judah’ at the time of his capture and removal to Babylon in 598 bce. Zedekiah would then simply have been serving as his deputy and been left in an administratively weakened position as a result. The Babylonian authorities may have deliberately planned such a situation in order to maintain pressure on Zedekiah and his vassal administration in Jerusalem during the years of his reign. However, although such a possibility may be entertained, this interpretation of the situation is largely speculative and has little to commend it. Far more probable is the conclusion that, after his father, Jehoiakim’s death, King Jehoiachin was authoritatively deposed by his Babylonian suzerain, Nebuchadrezzar, in 598 bce as punishment for Judah’s rebellion. His uncle (or half-brother) Zedekiah19 was then appointed to the throne in Jerusalem, in his place. Later still, after Zedekiah’s rebellion and removal from office in 587 bce, the title ‘king’ formally lapsed so far as Judah was concerned and an altogether different political status for the region was instituted. In referring to Jehoiachin as ‘king’, therefore, the author of 2 Kgs 25.27 was essentially referring retrospectively to one who, in constitutional status, was actually the former king of Judah. At most, the use of the title reflects the viewpoint of a particular group who regarded the survival of a branch of this ancient royal family as a mark of hope for the rebirth of the ruined nation. In such a context it is possible to see that the retention of the title was in line with the interests of the 18
Cf. Hayes and Miller, Israelite and Judean History, p. 471, who point to Jeremiah 28 as evidence that some circles hoped for the return of Jehoiachin to Judah. Cf. also W. Zimmerli, Ezekiel I: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 1–24 (trans. R. E. Clements; Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1979), pp. 114–15 who sees the evidence of dating in the book of Ezekiel as accepting the legitimacy of Jehoichin’s claim to the Jerusalem throne; cf. further F. M. T. de Liagré Böhl, ‘Nebukadnezzar en Jojachin’, in Opera Minora: Studies en Bijdragen op Assyriologisch en Oudtestamentisch Terrein (Groningen: J. B. Wolters, 1953), pp. 423–29. 19 Cf. 2 Chron 36.10 (LXX); contra 1 Chron 3.15 (MT).
a royal privilege (2 kings 25.27–30)
59
author of 2 Kgs 25.27, rather than being an accurately preserved recognition of an officially approved status. He was expressing a Judean point of view which reflected the strong tradition of loyalty and belief that was vested in the Davidic family, not one that had been established by the Babylonian administration. We can, therefore, sum up quite briefly these general historical conclusions regarding the event that is recorded in these four verses. As an item of historical information it appears probable that it reflects popular knowledge that, after his capture and exile, Jehoiachin, together with his family, was held under a form of ‘house arrest’ at the Babylonian court. This was a treatment that accords with ancient practice for captured royal personages and most probably was generous, and respectful. There are no clear indications that this treatment carried any wider significance so far as the Babylonian court was concerned. That the circumstances pertaining to Jehoiachin’s release amounted to a specific act of pardon for his earlier rebellion is not explicitly stated, but appears to be implied. There is no evidence that the situation of Judah, during this period after the destruction of 587 bce, was changed as a result of it. It appears likely that the assertions regarding the uniquely favourable terms of the treatment accorded to Jehoiachin are almost entirely drawn from the author’s convictions regarding the special status of the Judean royal family, and not from personal knowledge or official records. The story is introduced at this point because it served the author/redactor’s purpose to draw attention to the circumstances of Jehoiachin as an example of the conditions that ‘exile’ would mean for the future of Israel. Years spent in Babylon would impose a new order of political and social life for Israel, but they would not mean the ‘death’ of the people. The question for the modern reader and historian to address then is: ‘Why was Jehoiachin’s fate a matter of such interest and what was it thought to signify?’ 5. The Limitations of the Message of 2 Kings 25.27–30 In order to establish a realistic picture of why these verses are uniquely informative from the perspective of biblical historiography it is useful to close the gateway to a number of false trails. These have arisen because these verses appear to answer questions which are otherwise
60
ronald e. clements
unanswerable and which are largely concerned with the authorship and structure of the history of the Former Prophets. As a result, conclusions have been drawn which appear plausible, but which, when scrutinised more closely, have little to commend them. We have already drawn attention to several features concerning the historicity of the events covered. Of particular significance for the interpretation of the narrative history has been the assumption that these verses were designed to express a message of hope regarding the Davidic royal house after the predominantly negative message of the events that followed King Josiah’s death. Only in a very limited sense can this be the case. The favourable circumstances that pertained for Jehoiachin up to the time of his death appear to benefit no one but himself and his immediate family. If there is hope in this privilege, everything depends on what kind of hope and expectation this change in his circumstances indicates. To suppose that ‘hope’ in this context meant the possibility of a return to the throne in Judah is wholly wide of the mark and expressly contrary to the emphasis upon the restricted activities of Jehoiachin in Babylon. Even a palace had walls and the eating of meals cannot have carried great administrative responsibilities! It is possible that some lesser regaining of authority by Jehoiachin was thought to be implicit in his change of circumstance, but there are no clear indications that this was the case. Whatever level of ‘hope’ was intended to be conveyed must have been related directly to what is narrated concerning the honoured lifestyle that was accorded to Jehoiachin in the Babylonian court. Clearly had the intention been to indicate the awakening of hope for a return of either Jehoiachin or one of his sons to re-ascend the throne in Jerusalem then more would have needed to be said regarding this. The fact that such hopes certainly arose in some Jewish circles carries little weight since they evidently failed to result in any positive achievement. They understandably appear to have become politically divisive and controversial among those who had survived the disasters of the preceding half-century. A more subtle message about kingship and the future of Israel must lie behind these verses. The belief that this is the case points to wider concerns regarding the role that the Davidic royal house was believed to exercise in serving Israel. The favourable nature of Jehoiachin’s treatment in the Babylonian court serves as a clue to the way in which a future hope for the survivors of Israel more generally
a royal privilege (2 kings 25.27–30)
61
could be expected to emerge. It could be read as a whisper of hope in a situation in which very few grounds for hope remained firm. It is important to reflect on this general point that the content of what is affirmed in these four verses is significantly limited in its implications. Yet limited as this change of circumstance may be, it is the favourable nature of this change that is regarded as significant. The point that is emphasised concerns Jehoiachin’s dining in honour in the presence of the greatest of earth’s kings, and this is held to convey a message for the readers. His privileged, dependent status is noted, not his world-wide power and grandeur. He is the recipient of the favours of a king greater than himself, not the foundation of all truth and justice. The verses contain a message that every ancient reader would understand since it impinges directly on an all too familiar life situation. Jehoiachin is portrayed as an exile among exiles, and the survivability of this situation is the point that is driven home. In his case survival depended on the recognition accorded him by a foreign ruler. There is significance therefore in the fact that the circumstances of the former king’s rehabilitation convey some kind of message about the nature and meaning of exile for Israel’s future. 6. The Significance of Jehoiachin’s Change of Fortune in Its Biblical Setting So far we have focused our attention in the narrative regarding Jehoiachin’s return to honour in Babylon in connection with the possible historical circumstances which underlie it and the connection of these verses with the origin and purpose of the history of the Former Prophets. On both fronts the results that emerge are very meagre. The report itself has a strikingly contrived and implausible character, aimed at setting the heir of the royal dynasty of David above other kings of the earth, even in a situation where he was at the mercy of the Great King who was his host. The story has all too readily been over-interpreted out of a desire to use the details it contains to address questions which in itself, it fails to answer. At most it offers some kind of amelioration of the consistently negative portrayal of the reigns of Judah’s last kings, suggesting that, in the end, there was a dignity and honour that belonged to royalty descended from King David which did not apply to other kings of the earth.
62
ronald e. clements
We have to search elsewhere in order to understand the importance of these verses for understanding the origin and interpretation of ancient Israel’s history-writing. 7. The Intertextual Links of 2 Kings 25.27–30 The primary clue to achieving such an understanding has been provided by Jon Levenson,20 and the purpose of this study is to followup more fully the guidelines of what he has suggested. The key to his fresh interpretation lies in recognising the influence of the ancient royal psalms in the message that is conveyed by noting the change in the fortunes of Jehoiachin’s Babylonian domicile. Levenson points to Ps 18.44–45 which describes, in the cult-mythological language of hymnic praise, the triumph of Israel’s king over all hostile powers. The heir to the promises made to David is to be ‘head of the nations’; foreigners are to lose heart and come cringing to him (vv. 43–44). As a result Israel’s king is to be praised and exalted over the nations (v. 50). Levenson describes this as a ‘conditional Messianism in the Diaspora’ and comments: ‘2 Kgs 25.27–30 represents part of an effort by an exilic Deuteronomistic source to bring the legacy of the promissory covenant with David into line with the new historical reality effected by the events of 587 bce and with the novel social and political situation of the continuing Diaspora’. He comments regarding the content of what is affirmed regarding King Jehoiachin: ‘An exile becomes an honoured guest’. In many ways even more striking than the impact of Psalm 18 is that of Psalm 72, with its affirmation that ‘all nations’ will render service to Israel’s king, descended from the line of David, and hence heir to the great promises made to that founder of the dynasty. Already B. D. Sommer has shown how deeply this psalm has influenced the prophecies of Isaiah 40–55 (66).21 Most striking in these sixteen 20
J. D. Levenson, ‘The Last Four Verses in Kings’, JBL 103 (1984), pp. 353–61. B. D. Sommer, A Prophet Reads Scripture: Allusion in Isaiah 40 –66 (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1998). Sommer regards Isaiah 40–66 as a literary unity, but the evidence that Isaiah 56–66 are of later origin than chapters 40–55 appears strong. It is noteworthy that Isa 55.1–5 appear as a carefully planned concluding summary regarding the significance of the divine promise to King David which is presumed throughout chapters 40–55. Cf. especially A. Labahn, Wort Gottes und Schuld Israels: Untersuchungen zu Motiven deuteronomisticher Theologie im Deuterojesajabuch mit einem Ausblick auf das Verhältnis von Jes 40 –55 zum Deuteronomismus (BWANT, 143; Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1999), pp. 44–95. 21
a royal privilege (2 kings 25.27–30)
63
chapters is the use of the Davidic psalm traditions to show how the ‘kings of the earth’ show respect and honour to the heir of the line of David. Most particularly, in this regard, the Persian ruler Cyrus is heralded as one who is to fulfil the will of the Lord. I have already argued elsewhere22 that it has been a persistent misinterpretation of the title ‘the Lord’s anointed’, as applied to Cyrus (Isa 45.1), to regard this Persian ruler as displacing and supplanting the heirs of King David as the unique royal administrators of the government of Israel in the name of Israel’s God. The title ‘anointed’ in this context means no more than ‘one who has been commissioned to fulfil a particular service’ (so also in Isa 61.1). Like ‘the kings of Sheba and Seba’ who, according to Ps 72.10, give service to King David and his royal heirs, Cyrus, king of Persia, renders such service to the people of Israel who have fallen on difficult times. The fact that he does so is claimed to be entirely due to the tradition of a divine assurance to King David that all the kings of the earth will serve him. The role of Cyrus as the anointed one of the Lord God of Israel is a service accomplished out of respect for the uniqueness of Israel’s royal ancestry. Similarly, in these verses at the end of 2 Kings, Evil-merodach, King of Babylon, is presented as one who rendered a similar service of honour to another of David’s descendants, namely Jehoiachin. There is a coherence and consistency in the message that is given. The ancient divine promise to David, the ancestor of Israel’s most illustrious line of kings, provides assurance that he, and his heirs, would serve as Guardians and Protectors of the people Israel. Each king of this royal lineage would be, as the aggrieved cry of Lam 4.20 expresses it: ‘. . . the one of whom we said, “Under his shadow we shall live among the nations”’.
In a quite new, literal sense this confidence was to be put to the test after the events of 598 and 587 bce. 2 Kgs 25.27–30, insists that, in respect of ex-King Jehoiachin, this confidence was not misplaced. In Babylon, Jehoiachin was shown favour, and, in consequence, the survivors of Israel who were forced to live among the nations, 22 Cf. R. E. Clements, ‘The Davidic Covenant in the Isaiah Tradition’, in A. D. H. Mayes and R. B. Salters (eds.), Covenant as Context: Essays in Honour of E. W. Nicholson (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), pp. 39–69 (60–64); cf. idem, ‘Psalm 72 and Isaiah 40–66: A Study in Tradition’, PRSt 28 (2001), pp. 333–41.
64
ronald e. clements
would do so under the shadow of protection promised to their great royal ancestor. This ancient promise was held to retain its validity, even though, in a larger military and political perspective, the heirs of King David had been unable, in the years 598 and 587 bce, to defend Israel and its territorial borders. In spite of these disasters, the promise was held to be enduring in its validity. Jehoiachin’s example is highlighted in this story of his personal rehabilitation when a new Babylonian king came to the throne. What was necessary was to show that the promise remained valid, but had acquired an extended meaning and significance. Israel would indeed live among the nations under the shadow of an heir of the ancient royal line. Jehoiachin’s example was held up as exemplary. 8. Jehoiachin’s Release as Preface to the Latter Prophets If this analysis of the significance of the story of Jehoiachin’s rehabilitation is valid, then it carries a number of significant corollaries regarding the story itself and the structure and history of the second part of the biblical canon. In the first context it would appear that we must retain a strong scepticism regarding the historical reliability of what is narrated. Probably the most that was reliably known was that Jehoiachin had lived for a long time after his deportation in 598 bce and that he had been held in the huge palace complex in Babylon. The connection with the accession of the new Babylonian ruler, Evil-merodach, may have been occasioned by little more secure information than the realisation that Jehoiachin’s change of fortune could not reasonably have taken place in the reign of the fearful King Nebuchadrezzar. It seems highly probable therefore that almost all that is narrated in 2 Kgs 25.27–30 has been deduced by a form of midrash from the promises contained in Israel’s psalms, such as those of Ps 18.43–50. As such it deserves to be evaluated along with other midrashic elements in the books of 1 and 2 Kings. Here was one of David’s heirs who had, in his final years, been exalted above his erstwhile adversaries (cf. Ps 18.48). A considerable range of other psalm passages may well have contributed to the construction of this sketch of what life was like behind the palace walls. It is not difficult to see that a unique sense would have been found in the familiar words of Ps 23.5:
a royal privilege (2 kings 25.27–30)
65
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows (Ps 23.5).
Before leaving consideration of this important conclusion to the chronicle of 2 Kings it is salutary to note that it raises a number of points which have wider implications regarding the literary structure of this part of the Hebrew canon. First among these is the importance of these verses as a vital hinge-point, linking the Former with the Latter Prophets. In his study Kings Without Privilege, A. G. Auld points to the strong evidence of the links between the Book of Jeremiah and the composition of 2 Kings. In many respects the closeness of the connections between the editing of the book of Jeremiah and the composition of the Former Prophets, most especially the books of 1 and 2 Kings, has been the central issue of discussion for understanding the Jeremiah tradition. Yet, surprisingly, this link has been disrupted by the interpolation of the book of Isaiah as the ‘first’ of the Latter Prophets. In all respects this development is surprising, because of the closeness of the literary and ideological links between Jeremiah and 2 Kings. Nevertheless it is apparent that Isaiah is the prophetic book which most strongly and forthrightly reflects an interest in the divine promise to the royal house of David. It would appear helpful to suggest therefore that it was on this account that it was appropriate to conclude the story of the ending of the years of that dynasty’s rule in Jerusalem with a note about what the future of the family might be. The story of Jehoiachin’s rehabilitation in Babylon prepares the reader of the Latter Prophets to understand how the divine promise to Israel’s royal dynasty remained relevant to the new world of exile. In a closely similar literary development it is noteworthy that the fate of Jehoiachin is the point of central focus in the story of King Hezekiah’s serious errors of judgement which forms the subject of Isaiah 39. This chapter is the link chapter between the two major parts of the Isaiah book, fulfilling a similar function in that work as do the last four verses of 2 Kings between the Former and the Latter Prophets.23 Since these two parts of the second division of the Hebrew 23 Cf. W. A. M. Beuken, ‘The Unity of the Book of Isaiah: Another Attempt at Bridging the Gorge between its Two Main Parts’, in J. C. Exum and H. G. M.
66
ronald e. clements
biblical canon were originally joined together as one single work there is a special literary significance in the story of Jehoiachin’s final days. One era had come to an end, but a new era had come into existence. It was to be an existence in which ‘exile’ would be the dominant feature. Nevertheless it would remain an existence in which Israel could ‘live among the nations’ under the shadow of the promise that the Lord God of Israel had made centuries before to its great royal ancestor King David. In the light of these literary and ideological factors, it is evident that the story of Jehoiachin’s release from his Babylonian imprisonment has an important literary and ideological function to fulfil. It makes clear what became of the old monarchic order about which such high hopes had once been entertained. At the same time it demonstrates what the new order would be. It would be a world of exile and dispersion among the nations. The message of the Latter Prophets then unfolds to express the hope of an eventual return to the land postponed to an indefinite timescale. For the time being Israel had to learn to live between the two temporal horizons of the national life that had been lost and that which was yet to come. Nevertheless this was not a world without security since Israel could live among the nations under the shadow of the promise made to King David, their illustrious royal ancestor. The personal fate of the exiled King Jehoiachin was seen as a positive demonstration of the validity of the divine promise of royal authority made centuries before to King David. Since the composition of such a link passage presupposes the existence of the much longer literary components which it binds together, it may be regarded as virtually certain that it is itself a very late literary element.
Williamson (eds.), Reading from Left to Right: Essays on the Hebrew Bible in Honour of David J. A. Clines ( JSOTSup, 373; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003) pp. 50–62 (59–62).
TRANSLATING PSALM 23 David J. A. Clines Psalm 23 is, I suspect, the best known but worst translated chapter of the Bible.1 In this paper I will consider some twenty points in the psalm where our usual English translations offer us less than satisfactory renderings, comparing some fourteen of the standard English versions of the psalm2 with their Hebrew original, in tribute to my friend Graeme Auld, a skilled scrutineer of variant biblical texts. 1. Who is my shepherd? I begin with an obvious but commonly overlooked point. Since this famous psalm is entirely about my shepherd, you would think it would be interesting to know who my shepherd is, that is, the name of my shepherd. Apparently, not to translators of the Bible into English, who make it their business to conceal the name of the shepherd, Yahweh, and to substitute a title, the Lord, which is of course not his name.3 Among the well-known English versions I considered for this paper, only the American Standard Version (asv), with ‘Jehovah’, and the New Jerusalem Bible (njb), with ‘Yahweh’, reveal the name of the shepherd.
1 Earlier oral versions of this article have been presented under the titles ‘Translating Psalm 23: A EuroProject’ (paper presented at the meeting of the International Organization for the Study of the Old Testament, Leiden, 1–6 August 2004), and ‘The Lord is my Shepherd in East and South-East Asia’ (paper presented at the International Meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature, Singapore, 26 June– 1 July 2005). 2 Authorized Version / King James Version (kjv, 1611), Revised Version (rv, 1881), American Standard Version (asv, 1901), James Moffatt’s A New Translation of the Bible (1925), Revised Standard Version (rsv, 1952), Jerusalem Bible (jb, 1966), New American Bible (nab, 1970), New English Bible (neb, 1970), Today’s English Version/ Good News Bible (tev, 1976), New International Version (niv, 1978), New Jerusalem Bible (njb, 1985), New Jewish Publication Society Version (njps, 1985), New Revised Standard Version (nrsv, 1989), Revised English Bible (reb, 1989). 3 Moffatt uses the title ‘the Eternal’ for Yahweh.
68
david j. a. clines 2. Where does the emphasis lie in ‘Yahweh is my shepherd’ (v. 1)?
What is the one thing that the two opening words y[r hwhy are saying? When we read the psalm, should we be emphasising Yahweh or my shepherd ? Does the clause mean, ‘It is Yahweh’ (and not some other deity) ‘who is my shepherd’? or ‘It is my shepherd that Yahweh is’? What will better suit the poem as a whole? And above all, how shall we read it aloud? Yahweh is my shepherd, or Yahweh is my shepherd ? Cannot Hebrew grammar settle the question? In a verbal clause, where the usual pattern is predicate–subject, the reverse word-order suggests that the subject is being emphasised. Nominal clauses, however, are rather more complicated. It is not clear in the clause y[r hwhy which of the words is the subject, ‘my shepherd’ or ‘Yahweh’. Furthermore, is this a clause of identification, like hwhy yna ‘I am Yahweh’ (Exod 6.2), in which the order is typically subject–predicate, or a clause of classification, like a awh yja ‘he is my brother’ (Gen 20.5), in which the order is usually predicate–subject (though less predictably so when the predicate is a noun with a suffix)?4 Even if we could resolve these matters, would we be any better off than knowing whether it means ‘Yahweh is my shepherd’ or ‘My shepherd is Yahweh’? We would still not know which word we should emphasise. In my opinion, it is inconceivable that the meaning should be: Yahweh is my shepherd, i.e., it is Yahweh who is my shepherd—for that would mean, Yahweh and not someone else. And there is nothing in the psalm about rival shepherds. So I am clear that the sense is: Yahweh is my shepherd, i.e., it is a shepherd that Yahweh is to me—which is after all the point the whole poem is making in each of its verses. Strange to say, however, I have not been able to find any translation that helps the reader on how to read or read aloud this verse. They all just say, The Lord (or Yahweh) is my shepherd, as if it did not matter which of the two words are to be emphasised. Those who read the psalm aloud have to decide the matter for themselves.
4 See further B. K. Waltke and M. O’Connor, An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1990), pp. 130–35.
translating psalm 23
69
3. Have I no lack, or shall I have no lack (v. 1)? The verb in rsja al, being imperfect, could mean ‘I shall not lack’— future tense (as kjv, rv, asv, rsv, nrsv, neb, niv), or ‘I do not lack’— present tense (as Moffatt, jb, reb, njps, nab, njb, tev). Which is the better? To me the answer is pretty clear. There is nothing in the whole poem about the future until we reach the very last verse. Few want to make lying in green pastures future, or spreading a table or anointing the head, and plainly the focus of vv. 1–5 is on the speaker’s experience in the present. Furthermore, rsja al ‘I do not lack’ in the second colon must be parallel to, or a development from y[r hwhy ‘Yahweh is my shepherd’ in the first colon. How could it be that Yahweh is my shepherd in the present if all the proof I expect to have of that lies in the future? If it is only in the future that I will not lack, then it will only be in the future that Yahweh will be my shepherd. But no one translates ‘Yahweh will be my shepherd’. Things are different in the last verse of the psalm. Here the movement from present to future with the phrases ‘all the days of my life’ and ‘for length of days’ is a signal of closure; it extends the time perspective forward from the experience of the present to an anticipation of the future. But while we are still in v. 1, we are in the present, as we are also with all the verbs of vv. 2–5 as well. 4. Want or lack (v. 1)? The Hebrew is clear. rsj is ‘lack, be lacking, need’. But some English versions have ‘want’ (kjv, rv, asv, rsv, nrsv, neb), which, for most users of modern English, is a far different thing. ‘Want’ today is about desire (subjective), not about the absence of something (objective). In the seventeenth-century language of the Authorized Version/ King James’ Version, ‘to want’ meant ‘to lack’, as in the proverb ‘want not, waste not’, the sense ‘desire’ not being attested earlier than 1706, according to the OED. So to every copy of the rsv (1952), and even of the nrsv (1989), there should be affixed a health warning: This Bible version may be dangerous for your morals unless you are an expert in seventeenth-century English! ‘Lack’ is the translation of Moffatt, jb, njps, nab, njb, reb; and tev ‘I have everything I need’ likewise avoids the misleading ‘want’. niv ‘I shall not be in
70
david j. a. clines
want’ manages to have its cake and eat it by keeping the word ‘want’ but in a phrase that does not conjure up ‘desire’. 5. Does the shepherd make me lie down or let me lie down (v. 2)? The verb in ynxybry açd twanb is of course hiphil, and generations of students in English-speaking countries have learned to translate hiphils by ‘cause to’, ‘make to’. A typical English translation is rsv’s ‘he makes me lie down in green pastures’, following kjv, which was itself no doubt following the Geneva Bible’s ‘He maketh mee to rest in greene pasture’.5 But how does a shepherd make a sheep do that? You could perhaps imagine a powerfully built shepherd forcing the sheep down onto the grass. Or knocking the sheep’s legs from under it? Or stunning it with his rod and his staff (v. 4)? Obviously, kjv, rv, asv, Moffatt, nrsv, njps, niv, neb and reb have all thought out how the shepherd would manage it, for they all have ‘make’. In fact, so I am told, it is impossible to make a sheep lie down. Or else you could imagine the shepherd doing nothing at all. In that case, the shepherd would ‘let’ the sheep lie down—which is what njb has, with ‘In grassy meadows he lets me lie’ (similarly jb), and tev ‘He lets me rest in fields of green grass’ (so too nab). 6. Lie down or graze (v. 2)? Why should I lie down in green pastures? Since the whole purpose of the shepherd is to leave the sheep lacking nothing, and the second half of this verse is about water, you might think that the first half is about eating—which is not exactly lying down. Why is the sheep lying down? What has that to do with not lacking? tev thinks that the sheep is lying down to rest (‘He lets me rest in fields of green grass’), but that cannot be right, for a sheep can rest anywhere, whether or not there is grass, and whether or not it is green (see below). From a sheep’s point of view, green grass means only one thing: food. The nab understands that, and so it offers ‘In 5 Coverdale had ‘He shall feed me in a green pasture’. It is not improbable that in these early versions ‘green’ had simply the sense of ‘plant’ without reference to the colour (cf. OED, §4).
translating psalm 23
71
green pastures you let me graze’, ignoring the lying down. We leave aside the ‘you’, which is surely unwarranted, since the Hebrew is unmistakably ‘he’. The real problem here is that sheep do not eat lying down. If they are grazing, they are not lying down. If they are lying down, they are not grazing. What are they doing when they are lying down? They are chewing the cud, ruminating on the grass they have eaten while standing up. Its greenness and moisture were very welcome while they were eating, and equally when they are enjoying their food for the second time lying down. They will happily chew the cud for several hours every day. These urbanised days, when most of us know little about the habits of sheep, if I were a Bible translator, I should be writing, ‘He is not forever moving me on, but lets me lie down for hours to chew the cud after I have eaten green grass standing up’. But that would fail the test of poetical quality. 7. ‘Green’ pastures (v. 2)? All our English versions (except njb) tell us that the sheep lies down in ‘green’ pastures. But there is no word for ‘green’ in the Hebrew, since açd just means ‘grass’. Not all grass is green (e.g., prairie grass, bluegrass, yellow grass), and even green grass is perhaps not green in the night-time. But if açd only means ‘grass’, what are açd twan? ‘Pastures of grass’ would be tautological, would it not? What else could a pasture consist of but grass? I suppose the answer must be that hw:n: (or hwbòdâ in its earlier sense of “physical labor” when it flatly contradicted the meaning it had in his own time’.81 Again, determining parameters of semantic development in hdb[ is difficult.82 (85) The noun hzja (‘possession’) is used 66 times: Genesis (9 times); Leviticus (20 times); Numbers (9 times); Deut 31.49; Joshua (6 times); Ezekiel (15 times); Ps 2.8; Neh 11.3; 1 Chron 7.28; 9.2; 2 Chron 11.14; 31.1. Hurvitz argued for ‘a certain terminological discrepancy between P and the late sources’.83 He said: M. Paran has observed a remarkable difference between the use of "a˙uzzâ in P and in Neh-Chr. In P, the term "a˙uzzâ = »possessed land, dwelling place« regularly has a rural, agricultural connotation and is accompanied by ≈ra or hdc, not by ry[. . . . [Lev 27.16, 24; Num 32.4–5; Deut 32.49; Josh 21.12] . . . In contrast, in Neh and Chr hzja and ry[ form a collocation. [Neh 11.3; 1 Chron 9.2; 2 Chron 31.1] . . . Obviously, then, we are dealing here with an innovation reflecting a remarkable departure from the conventional and established manner in which "a˙uzzâ is employed in the Priestly texts of the Pentateuch and Joshua alike. . . . [B]oth in form (use of prepositions) and meaning (semantic range) P and Neh-Chr represent entirely different linguistic milieux.84
Hurvitz cites four exceptions: (1) ‘Deut 32, 49 [sic, = 32.49, with hzja and ≈ra] . . . is considered the work of a Priestly hand’.85 On the contrary: ‘. . . critical scholarship presumes that most, if not all, of this paragraph [Deut 32.48–52] was composed, on the model of Numbers 27, by a post-Deuteronomic editor . . .’.86 (2) ‘The only exception
79
Milgrom, Leviticus 1–16, p. 7. Milgrom, Numbers, p. 344. 81 Milgrom, Leviticus 1–16, p. 8. 82 Cf. Elwolde, ‘Developments’, pp. 52–53 and n. 100; Williamson, Israel, p. 57; U. Rüterswörden, H. Simian-Yofre and H. Ringgren, ‘db'[’; , in TDOT 10:376–405 (403–404). 83 A. Hurvitz, ‘Dating the Priestly Source in Light of the Historical Study of Biblical Hebrew a Century after Wellhausen’, ZAW 100 (1988), pp. 91–97 (94). 84 Hurvitz, ‘Dating’, pp. 95–97. 85 Hurvitz, ‘Dating’, p. 91, n. 14. 86 J. Tigay, Deuteronomy (The JPS Torah Commentary; Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, 1996), p. 518 (emphasis added); cf. ry[ and hljn in Deut 20.16. 80
‘late’
common nouns in the book of chronicles
395
in P is Lev 25,32 – 34 where "a˙uzzâ is directly joined to ry[, in connection with the residence of the Levites . . . But this is dictated by the special circumstances of this unique case’.87 (3) ‘This conclusion is further supported by other verses in Chr which also employ "a˙uzzâ in an unprecedented way [1 Chron 7.28; 2 Chron 11.14]’,88 without ry[. (4) ‘A noteworthy deviation from the accepted usage of the Priestly "a˙uzzâ is also found in Ez. . . . [Ezek 45.6, 7 (2x); 48.20, 21, 22] . . .’,89 where hzja is joined to ry[. Hurvitz overlooks five other exceptions. To the ‘unique case’ of hzja, ry[ and the Levites, should be added: Num 35.2, 7–8 (P) with hzja and ry[; Josh 21.40–41 with hzja and ry[; and MT Ezek 45.7–8 with hzja, ry[ and ≈ra.90 Also, Josh 21.12 joins hzja with ry[h hdç. Finally, the referent of wntljn tzja in Num 32.32 (P) becomes in v. 33 the kingdoms of Sihon and Og, in apposition to ‘the land and its towns, with the territories of the surrounding towns’ (bybs ≈rah yr[ tlbgb hyr[l ≈rah). MT is somewhat obscure. Milgrom translates ‘the land with its various cities and the territories of their surrounding towns’.91 The format varies, but regarding the terminology, straightforward distribution or clear development in ‘meaning’ is uncertain. 6. Persian Loanwords Young has commented on these in several publications92 and we examine other issues in our book on dating BH. The following points are relevant here. (1) Six of Chronicles’ 2,300 lexemes are generally considered Persian loanwords. These constitute nine of the total 35,000 words in the book.93 Remarkably, few Persian loanwords are found in the book of Chronicles which was most likely composed in the latter part of the Persian period. (2) Two words are unique to
87
Hurvitz, ‘Dating’, p. 95, n. 34. Hurvitz, ‘Dating’, p. 96, n. 38. 89 Hurvitz, ‘Dating’, p. 97, n. 41. 90 Cf. W. Zimmerli, Ezekiel 2: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 25– 48 (trans. J. D. Martin; Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1983), pp. 466–67. 91 Milgrom, Numbers, p. 274; cf. LXX tØn g∞n ka‹ tåw pÒleiw sÁn to›w ır¤oiw aÈt∞w pÒleiw t∞w g∞w kÊklƒ. 92 See the references to Young’s publications in n. 7 (‘loanwords’). 93 In addition, the verb lbrkm in 1 Chron 15.27 may be a Persian loanword, but this is controversial. See Rezetko, Source. 88
396
robert rezetko
Chronicles, three are used elsewhere in LBH, and one is used in a synoptic EBH passage. (3) Excluding rbrp, Chronicles uses EBH synonyms of three of the other five words. Only with ˆdn and lymrk could we speak of ‘replacement’. (4) Hypothetically Chronicles’ author(s)/editor(s) could have adopted other Persian words, e.g., td, ˆmz or μgtp, but he/they did not. These points suggest that Persian words were not inevitable in Chronicles, or for that matter, in other biblical literature of the Persian period. One certainly cannot speak of ‘penetration’ or ‘accumulation’ in Chronicles. Finally, as we will see, perhaps the author consciously used Persian vocabulary for specific reasons. (86) μynwkrda (‘darics’; prosthetic a): This word is found in Ezra 8.27 and 1 Chron 29.7. A similar word, μyn(w)mkrd (‘drachmas’), appears in Ezra 2.69; Neh 7.69, 70, 71.94 Is μynwkrda merely an anachronism impersonating fact? Chronicles uses ‘talents’ (rkk) or ‘shekels’ (lqç) of gold (1 Chron 20.2; 21.25; 22.14; 29.4, 7; 2 Chron 3.8, 9; 8.18; 9.9, 13; 36.3). μynwkrda in David’s parting speech may colourfully highlight his and the people’s prodigious generosity in preparation for temple construction.95 (87) ˚zng (‘treasury’): This loanword in 1 Chron 28.11 is either Persian or perhaps Aramaic with a Persian afformative (cf. zng in Est 3.9; 4.7; Ezra 5.17; 6.1; 7.20). It is considered a ‘late’ equivalent of rxwa. The latter occurs in all BH strata, 79 times total, and most often in Chronicles (23 times). Observe, especially, 1 Chron 28.11–12: Then David gave his son Solomon the plan of the vestibule of the temple, and of its houses, its treasuries (wykzngw), its upper rooms, and its inner chambers, and of the room for the mercy seat; and the plan of all that he had in mind: for the courts of the house of the LORD, all the surrounding chambers, the treasuries (twrxal) of the house of God, and the treasuries (twrxalw) for dedicated gifts (nrsv).
94 Cf. H. G. M. Williamson, ‘Eschatology in Chronicles’, TynBul 28 (1977), pp. 115–54 (123–26). On the textual issues in 1 Chron 29.7 see Knoppers, 1 Chronicles 10 –29, pp. 946–47. In this passage, for example, LXXAB have xrusoËw mur¤ouw for MT wbr μynkrda. 95 Cf. W. Johnstone, 1 and 2 Chronicles: Volume 1: 1 Chronicles 1–2 Chronicles 9, Israel’s Place Among the Nations ( JSOTSup, 253; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997), pp. 283–86.
‘late’
common nouns in the book of chronicles
397
‘Treasuries’ in v. 11 refers to interior temple treasuries rather than the exterior treasuries of v. 12.96 The different terms could be stylistic but they might serve to refer to similar but distinct entities. Chronicles’ detail is unsurprising considering that ‘treasuries’ are an important thematic element in the book.97 (88) ˆz (‘kind’): This term, found in Ps 144.13; Aramaic Dan 3.5, 7, 10, 15; and 2 Chron 16.14, is a trans-Aramaic Persian loanword and a ‘late’ equivalent of ˆym (30 times in Genesis, Leviticus and Deuteronomy; Ezek 47.10). However, Watson comments: ‘The assumption may need reconsideration, for the word (found also in Phoenician) has been connected with Ugaritic ≈nt, occurring with “storax” and “honey” in an obscure liturgical text’.98 (89) lymrk (‘crimson’): This word is used in 2 Chron 2.6 [evv 2.7], 13 [evv 2.14]; 3.14, and some emend lmrk to lymrk in Cant 7.6 (// ˆmgra). EBH equivalents are: ynç Gen 38.28, 30; Josh 2.18, 21; 2 Sam 1.24; Isa 1.18; Jer
4.30; Prov 31.21; Cant 4.3.99 [lwt Isa 1.18; Lam 4.5.100 t[lwt(h) ynç Lev 14.4, 6, 49, 51, 52; Num 19.6. ynç(h) t[lwt Exod 25.4; 26.1, 31, 36; 27.16; 28.5, 6, 8, 15; 35.6, 23, 25, 35; 36.8, 35, 37; 38.18, 23; 39.1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 24, 29; Num 4.8.
Kings, whose temple narrative is largely non-synoptic (1 Kings 5–8//1 Chronicles 2.1–7.10), lacks this terminology. The materials used for the tabernacle (Exod 25.3–7//35.5–9) and temple (2 Chron 2.6–7, 13, 15) vary greatly due to the issue of portability versus permanency; however, Chronicles’ description clearly depends on and extensively alters the construction materials of Exodus (metals, fabrics/skins, stones, wood). lymrk is likely a Persian loanword. Does it describe
96
Japhet, I & II Chronicles, p. 495: ‘The second stage of the plan [vv. 12–13] consists of elements outside the main building . . .’. 97 Knoppers, 1 Chronicles 10–29, pp. 883–90. 98 Watson, ‘Archaic’, p. 194; cf. M. Ellenbogen, Foreign Words in the Old Testament: Their Origin and Etymology (London: Luzac & Company, 1962), pp. 71–72 considers the word ‘Old Persian’. 99 The latter two references are notable. See the remark on Prov 31.22 in the discussion below of ≈wb (#94). 100 Cf. [lt in Nah 2.4.
398
robert rezetko
a particular hue of purple or a colour derived from a particular geographic region or animal source (insect, shellfish)?101 (90) ˆdn (‘sheath’): This word is found in non-synoptic 1 Chron 21.27 (twice) and in Aramaic Dan 7.15. hndn in the latter is metaphorical and uncertain.102 r[t is the ‘early’ synonym. The word means ‘razor’ in Num 6.5; 8.7; Isa 7.20; Jer 36.23; Ezek 5.1; Ps 52.4; and ‘sheath’ in 1 Sam 17.51; 2 Sam 20.8; Jer 47.6; Ezek 21.8, 9, 10, 35. First, the ‘earlier’ r[t is found in QH: hr[t la brjk (1QH13.15). Second, 1 Sam 17.51 has hr[tm hplçyw wbrjAta jqyw // ¶laben tØn =omfa¤an aÈtoË (LXXB). One expects koleÒw for r[t but it is absent.103 LXXB lacks the clause which suggests that hr[tm hplçyw is secondary. The textual variety and observable revisions in LXX mss show this to be the case. Consequently, this is an example of late revision in Hebrew in EBH style.104 (91) rbrp (‘colonnade’): The precise meaning of this Persian loanword is uncertain. It is found in 2 Kgs 23.11 (rwrp)//1 Chron 26.18 (twice). It is gratuitous to simply call the word in Kings a ‘late’ or ‘postexilic’ adjustment.105
101 The dictionaries/translations vary significantly over the secondary/intermediate colours of blue–red (‘purple’) to which these terms refer: carmine, crimson, scarlet, vermillion, violet, etc. The issue may not be resolvable: ‘. . . it is impossible to attain certainty as to the precise hue that an ancient author had in mind in a particular text . . .’ (F. W. Danker, ‘Purple’, ABD 5:557–60 [557]). 102 See BDB, p. 1102; HALOT 5:1926–27. The word is emended to hnd by, for example, J. J. Collins, Daniel: A Commentary on the Book of Daniel (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1993), p. 275. Cf. LXX ¶frijen tÚ pneËmã mou §n tª ßjei mou. 103 See 2 Sam 20.8; Jer 47.6 (LXX 29.6); Ezek 21.8, 9, 10; 1 Chron 21.27. 104 Cf. Rezetko, Source. On 1 Samuel 17 cf. R. F. Person, Jr., The Deuteronomic School: History, Social Setting, and Literature (Studies in Biblical Literature, 2; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature; Leiden: Brill, 2002), pp. 127–30; and A. G. Auld and C. Y. S. Ho, ‘The Making of David and Goliath’, JSOT 56 (1992), pp. 19–39; A. G. Auld, ‘The Story of David and Goliath: A Test Case for Synchrony Plus Diachrony’, in W. Dietrich (ed.), David und Saul im Widerstreit – Diachronie und Synchronie im Wettstreit. Beiträge zur Auslegung des ersten Samuelbuchs (OBO, 206; Freiburg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2004), pp. 118–28. 105 E.g., S. R. Driver, ‘Parbar’, in J. Hastings (ed.), Dictionary of the Bible (5 vols; New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1898–1904), 3:673; Polzin, Late, p. 149. The Persian origin of the word is doubted by C. L. Seow, ‘Linguistic Evidence and the Dating of Qoheleth’, JBL 115 (1996), pp. 643–66 (648).
‘late’
common nouns in the book of chronicles
399
7. Other Common Nouns (92) trga (‘letter’): Found in Est 9.26, 29; Neh 2.7, 8, 9; 6.5, 17, 19; 2 Chron 30.1, 6; and Aramaic Ezra 4.8, 11; 5.6, this loanword is trans-Aramaic Akkadian.106 Hurvitz says: ‘. . . there is clear justification to categorize trga as a late “Aramaism” within BH . . . which encroached on the CBH word rps (‘letter’) in the Second Temple period’.107 The distribution in BH is unambiguous: 13 times in four LBH books. However, the noun is attested in Aramaic already in the seventh century bce.108 Moreover, regarding the criterion of opposition, LBH trga is used alongside EBH terminology. Hurvitz says: ‘. . . what we have is a clear-cut distribution pattern which may be accounted for satisfactorily only in chronological terms. This is evident from the fact that "iggeret is employed exclusively in post-exilic writings—i.e., in “Late BH”—whereas its standard counterpart sèper is invariably functioning in “Classical BH”’.109 This is slightly off target. Beside the fact that rp,se appears 49 times in Esther–Chronicles we find the following terminology for official ‘letter’ in BH:110 rps 2 Sam 11.14, 15; 1 Kgs 21.8, 9, 11; 2 Kgs 5.5, 6 (2x), 7; ˆwtçn h/trga btk btkm
106
10.1, 2, 6, 7; 19.14 (//Isa 37.14); 20.12 (//Isa 39.1); Jer 29.1, 25, 29; Est 1.22; 3.13; 8.5, 10; 9.20, 25, 30; 2 Chron 32.17. Ezra 4.7, 18, 23; 5.5; 7.11. Aramaic Ezra 4.8, 11; 5.6; Neh 2.7, 8, 9; 6.5, 17, 19; Est 9.26, 29; 2 Chron 30.1, 6. 2 Chron 2.10 (evv 2.11). 2 Chron 21.12.
Mankowski, Akkadian, pp. 22–25. Hurvitz, ‘Hebrew’, p. 35. Early remarks on trga are found in Hurvitz, Transition, pp. 21–22. More recently cf. A. Hurvitz, ‘The Historical Quest for “Ancient Israel” and the Linguistic Evidence of the Hebrew Bible: Some Methodological Observations’, VT 47 (1997), pp. 301–15 (311–14). Also, Kofoed takes trga as one of the most significant pieces of lexical evidence for LBH versus EBH. See J. B. Kofoed, Text and History: Historiography and the Study of the Biblical Text (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2005), pp. 161, 163; idem, ‘Using Linguistic Difference in Relative Text Dating: Insights from other Historical Linguistic Case Studies’, HS 47 (2006) (forthcoming). 108 Eskhult, ‘Importance’, p. 13, n. 7; Mankowski, Akkadian, p. 24. 109 Hurvitz, ‘Historical’, p. 313. 110 In both EBH and LBH, rps is used for ‘book, scroll’ and other documents, and btk and btkm serve for ‘writing’ (‘handwriting, script, letter, character, text’) and other documents (‘inscription, register, enrolment, edict, enactment, regulation’). hlgm and rps tlgm, absent from Chronicles, are not considered here. 107
400
robert rezetko
First, clearly there is NOT ‘a clear-cut distribution pattern’. Second, numerically Esther prefers rps over trga, and alternates in using them in chapter 9. Third, Chronicles uses four lexemes for ‘letter’ in four non-synoptic passages: 2 Chron 2.10 (evv 2.11): In a ‘letter’ (btk), King Huram of Tyre affirmatively answers King Solomon about his request for building materials and labourers. 2 Chron 21.12: In a ‘letter’ (btkm), the prophet Elijah denounces the wicked behaviour of King Jehoram and announces Yahweh’s coming judgement. 2 Chron 30.1, 6: In ‘letters’ (twrga), King Hezekiah calls the ‘Israelite’ people to Jerusalem to celebrate Passover. 2 Chron 32.17: In ‘letters’ (μyrps), King Sennacherib of Assyria discourages the ‘Israelite’ people by disparaging their God Yahweh.
Is this terminology and distribution coincidental? As for trga Bergey gave us the answer: rps in Esther and Chronicles is a political document whereas trga has a socio-religious concern, Purim and Passover, respectively.111 (93) ˆwgra (‘purple cloth’): This word appears in 2 Chron 2.6; cf. Aramaic Dan 5.7, 16, 29. The word ˆmgra is found in Exodus (26 times); Num 4.13; Judg 8.26; Jer 10.9; Ezek 27.7, 16; Prov 31.22; Cant 3.10; 7.6; Est 1.6; 8.15; 2 Chron 2.13; 3.14. Eskhult, citing Mankowski, says ‘This word made two entrances into Hebrew. The form ˆmgra is on a par with common Akkadian and Ugaritic, whereas the variant ˆwgra is an Aramaism and mirrors the Babylonian intervocalic change [m] > [w] . . .’112 However, Esther uses the ‘early’/
111
R. Bergey, ‘The Book of Esther: Its Place in the Linguistic Milieu of PostExilic Biblical Hebrew Prose: A Study in Late Biblical Hebrew’ (PhD thesis, Dropsie College for Hebrew and Cognate Learning, 1983), p. 149. Contrast 2 Chron 30.1, 6 with 32.17 and also, for example, Est 9.26, 29 with 9.20, 25, 30. As far as I can tell, Samuel, Kings, Isaiah and Jeremiah do not attest letter-writing in a socio-religious context. Thus we cannot discount that they would have used trga if the opportunity had presented itself. As for Ezra–Nehemiah, trga is used for official correspondence, to/from King Artaxerxes and King Darius (Ezra 4.8, 11; 5.6; Neh 2.7, 8, 9) and to/from ‘governor’ Nehemiah or Judean ‘nobility’ and their ‘opponents’ Sanballat and Tobiah (Neh 6.5, 17, 19). Finally, Bergey cites Lieberman and Parpola, who think trga refers to a specific type of document or tablet, and concludes: ‘The contrast with rps can be questioned if this distinction is maintained in LBH’ (p. 149, n. 2). Cf. also ‘egirtu’ in E. J. Gelb et al., The Assyrian Dictionary, Volume 4 (Chicago: The Oriental Institute, 1958), pp. 45–46. 112 Eskhult, ‘Importance’, pp. 13, 19–20; Mankowski, Akkadian, pp. 38–39; cf. Ellenbogen, Foreign, pp. 38–39.
‘late’
common nouns in the book of chronicles
401
‘western’ form twice and Chronicles uses both forms close together in non-synoptic material. (94) ≈wb (‘byssus’): This word is in Ezek 27.16; Est 1.6; 8.15; 1 Chron 4.21; 15.27 (cf. 2 Sam 6.14, minus); 2 Chron 2.13; 3.14; 5.12. Hurvitz wrote the classic study, arguing that ≈wb, late and of north-eastern provenance (e.g., Est 8.15), superseded early çç (‘fine linen’) with its southern origin (e.g., Gen 41.42).113 çç appears in Gen 41.42; Exodus (33 times); Ezek 16.10, 13; 27.7; Prov 31.22. Hurvitz and Rooker attribute Ezekiel’s use of both words to the author’s transitional period in BH history. They stress occurrences of ≈wb in postbiblical Hebrew. However, as Young pointed out . . . Hurvitz discounts the significance of non-Hebrew evidence when it appears to contradict the chronological development in Hebrew (e.g., ≈wb . . .) . . . Hesitation is caused in this case by the appearance of the SBH form in the poem about the good wife in Prov. 31.22, which is often considered ‘late’ on other grounds . . ., and the appearance of the LBH form in the Phoenician Kilamuwa inscription (l. 12/13), securely dated to the ninth century bce . . .114
(95) hzb (‘spoil’): This noun appears in Est 9.10, 15, 16; Dan 11.24, 33; Ezra 9.7; Neh 3.36; 2 Chron 14.13; 25.13; 28.14. Some argue that LBH hzb replaced EBH zb, hsçm and/or llç. However, LBH uses all three ‘early’ words (e.g., Isa 42.22, 24; 53.12), and among other observations Chronicles has llç (10 times) and EBH and LBH occur side-by-side in 2 Chron 14.12–13; 28.14–15 (cf. Dan 11.24).115 (96) hryb (‘fortress’): Chronicles has this word four times (1 Chron 29.1, 19; 2 Chron 17.12; 27.4). Elsewhere Esther–Nehemiah have it 15 times (including once in Aramaic Ezra 6.2). This is an Akkadian loanword which supposedly entered Hebrew via Aramaic mainly because of its restriction to LBH.116 In 2 Chron 17.12; 27.4, twynryb (LXX ofikÆseiw) refers to ‘fortresses’ in Judah. In these texts hryb does not function in lieu of ‘earlier’ terminology for ‘fortified cities’ (cf. ry[ +
A. Hurvitz, ‘The Usage of vv and ≈wb in the Bible and Its Implication for the Date of P’, HTR 60 (1967), pp. 117–21; cf. M. F. Rooker, Biblical Hebrew in Transition: The Language of the Book of Ezekiel ( JSOTSup, 90; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1990), pp. 159–61. 114 Young, ‘Biblical Hebrew’, p. 277, n. 3; 283; cf. Rezetko, Source. 115 Bergey, ‘Esther’, omits this word, presumably because he did not consider it a LBH replacement of EBH llç since the book also has the latter (3.13; 8.11). 116 Mankowski, Akkadian, pp. 46–47; cf. Polzin, Late, p. 130 (‘definitely LBH’). 113
402
robert rezetko
rwxm/hrwxm; 2 Chron 11.10, 11, 23; 12.4; 14.5; 17.19 [non-synoptic]; 21.3). The situation is different in 1 Chron 29.1, 19. Here the singular hrybh refers somewhat awkwardly to the temple. The term does not substitute for tyb(h), XAtyb or lkyh, which Chronicles uses regularly, the first two, for example, in non-synoptic 1 Chronicles 29, and the latter eight times in 2 Chronicles.117 LXXB lacks MT’s hrybh in 1 Chron 29.1 and MT’s ytwnykhArça hrybh twnblw in v. 19 stands parallel to LXXB’s ka‹ toË §p‹ t°low égage›n tØn kataskeuØn toË o‡kou sou. Additionally, ˆwk is a thematic word in Chronicles, appearing already seven times in MT 1 Chronicles 28–29, but only here does LXXB lack it.118 We cannot be sure that hryb in MT 1 Chron 29.1, 29 left the Chronicler’s pen. What is certain is that the word was not unavoidable, and moreover, it may well function within David’s speech to stress the grandness of the task set before Solomon.119 The story refers to tyb in vv. 2, 3 (3x), 4, 7, 8, 16, but the framework has hryb, in David’s first line to the assembly (v. 1) and in the last line of his prayer (v. 19). (97) μyrwrb (‘chosen ones’): The verb rrb occurs outside LBH (2 Sam 22.27; Jer 4.11) but the G passive participle is limited to Zeph 3.9 (EBH!); Job 33.3; Neh 5.18; 1 Chron 7.40; 9.22; 16.41. The usage in these passages is dissimilar. Chronicles’ usage is substantival. Polzin considers the word LBH120 but the root does not replace rWjB; in similar contexts (1 Chron 19.10; 2 Chron 11.1; 13.3; 13.17; 25.5; 36.17; cf. ryjiB] in 1 Chron 16.13).121 (98/99) rçb and raev] (‘flesh’), rty and ra;v] (‘remnant’):122 First, Hurvitz argued that raev] (‘flesh’; 16 times) gave way to LBH rçb 117
Contra Polzin, Late, p. 130. This and the satisfactory translation of hryb in 2 Chron 17.12; 27.4 suggest that the translator did not fail to understand the meaning of hryb in the present passage (cf. abira in Neh 1.1 and bira in Neh 7.2). 119 Cf. Knoppers, 1 Chronicles 10–29, p. 950; Williamson, 1 and 2 Chronicles, pp. 183–84. 120 Polzin, Late, p. 131. 121 Did ryjiB] in 1 Chron 16.13 promote dissimilation from μyrwjb to μyrwrb in v. 41? 122 The nominal morphology lf;q] (q^tàl) is normally attributed to Aramaic influence. However, several nouns of this type also occur in EBH: rqy ( Jer 20.5); dxm ( Judg 6.2; 1 Sam 23.14, 19; 24.1; Isa 33.16; Jer 48.21; 51.30); qn[ ( Judg 8.26); txq (Exod 37.8; 38.5; 39.4); brq (2 Sam 17.11; textual error?); drç (Exod 31.10; 35.19; 39.1, 41); raç (Isa 10.19, 20, 21, 22; 11.11, 16; 14.22; 16.14; 17.3; 21.17; 28.5). See GKC §84an (pp. 231–32); §93ww (p. 274); P. Joüon, A Grammar of Biblical Hebrew (trans. and rev. T. Muraoka; SubBi, 14; 2 vols; Rome: Editrice Pontificio Istituto 118
‘late’
common nouns in the book of chronicles
403
(273 times; 1 Chron 11.1; 2 Chron 32.8).123 He clarified that EBH has ‘late’ rçb. In other words, EBH uses both words, but only rçb made it into LBH. Second, Bergey argued that rty (95 times; 1 Chron 19.11; 2 Chron 13.22; 20.34; 25.26; 26.22; 27.7; 28.26; 32.32; 33.18; 35.26; 36.8) gave way to ra;v] (‘remnant’; 38 times; 1 Chron 11.8; 16.41; 2 Chron 9.29; 24.14).124 Here however the scenario differs. EBH has only rty while in LBH ra;v] (‘remnant’) began to encroach but could not displace rty. Therefore Chronicles has ra;v] (‘remnant’; four times) and rty (11 times). Yet ‘late’ ra;v] (‘remnant’) is attested in ‘early’ Ugaritic “ir. Several additional observations cast further doubt on the replacement view. Of 36 biblical books, 19 address both ‘flesh’ and ‘remnant’, 11 address only one of these, and six address neither one. Seven books use both rçb and raev] (‘flesh’). Six books use both rty and ra;v] (‘remnant’). Eleven EBH/LBH books use three of these four words: rçb and rty and either raev] (‘flesh’) or ra;v] (‘remnant’). However, no biblical book uses both consonantal homographs, raev] (‘flesh’) and ra;v] (‘remnant’). Regardless of their relationship in meaning, these never occur together even in ‘transitional’ books or books ‘of questionable date’. This is most likely a case of stylistic rather than chronological variation. Biblical writers/editors looked to avoid confusion (cf. jwr raçw in Mal 2.15).125 (100) hpwg (‘corpse’): 1 Chron 10.12 has hpwg (twice) instead of hywg (1 Sam 31.12). Kutscher considers hpwg an Aramaic loanword.126 However, hpwg is used only here, and its synonyms hywg and rgp appear in both EBH and LBH. Some believe rare hpwg is from the Vorlage.127 (101) hwdj (‘joy’): This word appears in 1 Chron 16.27; Neh 8.10; and in Aramaic Ezra 6.16. The domain ‘joy’ occurs mainly in the Latter Prophets and Writings ( hlyg, çwçm, ˆwçç, etc.). Even hjmç, used Biblico, 1991), 1:§88Cg (p. 245); §88Ef (p. 250); §96Dd (pp. 308–309); Kutscher, History, pp. 74–75. 123 Hurvitz, Linguistic, pp. 71–74. 124 Bergey, ‘Esther’, 142–44. 125 Cf. A. E. Hill, Malachi: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB, 25D; New York: Doubleday, 1998), p. 245. MT has jwr ra;v] (‘a residue of spirit’) but most prefer to emend the text to jwr raev] making the word pair ‘body’/‘spirit’. 126 Kutscher, History, p. 83. 127 Polzin, Late, p. 132; S. L. McKenzie, The Chronicler’s Use of the Deuteronomistic History (HSM, 33; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1985), pp. 59–60. Knoppers, 1 Chronicles 10 –29, p. 519 thinks 1 Samuel 31.10 influenced 31.12.
404
robert rezetko
94 times in BH, only appears in seven verses in Genesis–Kings. hwdj is probably not a ‘late’ equivalent for hjmç nor a substitute in Ps 96.6//1 Chron 16.27. First, Chronicles (12 times) follows only Isaiah and Psalms in uses of hjmç. Second, EBH has the verb hdj (Exod 18.9).128 Third, Chronicles has trapt elsewhere (1 Chron 22.5; 29.11, 13; 2 Chron 3.6) so the writer probably did not change trapt in Ps 96.6 to hwdj in 1 Chron 16.27. The word may have come from the Vorlage.129 (102) ˆwbçj (‘device’130): ˆwObV;ji appears in 2 Chron 26.15 and Qoh 7.29. Related ˆwOBv]j, (‘account’) is found in Qoh 7.25, 27; 9.10. Schoors discusses both, calling them LBH, but also showing that Chronicles’ usage is different than both of Qoheleth’s terms.131 The root bçj (verb, noun, hbçjm) is productive throughout BH. Ugaritic has ˙Δbn (‘account’).132 This evidence and Chronicles’ technical usage rule out certainty.133 (103) rwpk (‘bowl’): There are six occurrences in 1 Chron 28.17, two in Ezra 1.10 and one in Ezra 8.27. Polzin calls rwpk a ‘probable LBH word, a synonym of earlier [hr[q] . . . and [qrzm] . . .’134 But [ybg and hr[q appear in the Pentateuch and Jeremiah (only [ybg) whereas EBH and LBH have hlg, qrzm and πs. Chronicles has hlg and qrzm (1 Chron 18.17; 2 Chron 4.8, 11, 12, 13, 22). rwpk is doubtfully a ‘late’ synonym of ‘earlier’ qrzm since both are together in 1 Chron 28.17. Talshir and Watson cite Hillers who connected the Chronicler’s word with the inscriptional kprt on an alphabetic cuneiform tablet from Taanach.135
128 For this reason Polzin, Late, p. 137 has reservations about the lateness of the word. On the basis of graphic similarity, parallelism, and LXX xarÆsontai, many read wdjy (‘together’) in MT Jer 31.13 as ‘they will be merry’. 129 Williamson, Israel, pp. 47–48. 130 Cf. R. B. Dillard, 2 Chronicles (WBC, 15; Waco, TX: Word Books, 1987), pp. 209–10. 131 Schoors, Preacher, pp. 445–47; contrast Polzin, Late, pp. 138–39. 132 S. Gevirtz, ‘Of Syntax and Style in the “Late Biblical Hebrew”—“Old Canaanite” Connection’, JANES 18 (1986), pp. 25–29 (26, n. 7). 133 BDB lacks ‘late’! 134 Polzin, Late, p. 139. 135 D. Talshir, ‘A Reinvestigation of the Linguistic Relationship between Chronicles and Ezra-Nehemiah’, VT 38 (1998), pp. 165–93 (187, n. 69); Watson, ‘Archaic’, p. 195. They cite D. R. Hillers, ‘An Alphabetic Cuneiform Tablet from Taanach (TT 433)’, BASOR 173 (1964), pp. 45–50. Japhet, I & II Chronicles, p. 496, says: ‘The term is probably late, referring either to a new object or, more possibly, a new definition of an existing one’.
‘late’
common nouns in the book of chronicles
405
(104) btk (‘writing’): Many think btk (Ezek 13.9; 1 Chron 28.19; 2 Chron 2.10; 35.4; 25 times in Esther–Nehemiah) is ‘late’ and ‘equivalent’ to EBH rps and btkm.136 Inscriptional evidence raises doubts about the chronology.137 Also, non-synoptic Chronicles has the EBH terms: ‘writing’ (1 Chron 28.19); ‘directions’ (2 Chron 35.4; also btkm); ‘letter’ (2 Chron 2.10; cf. btkm in 2 Chron 21.12; rps in 2 Chron 32.17). (105) ˆybm (‘teacher’): The H participle of ˆyb meaning ‘teacher’ appears only in Ezra 8.16; 1 Chron 25.7, 8; 26.5 (cf. 15.22; 27.32). Similar terminology is hrwm (Isa 30.20; Hab 2.18; Prov 5.13; Job 36.22) and μydmlm (Ps 119.99; Prov 5.13). Some instances of rpeso may relate (cf. Ezra 7.6, 11; Neh 8.1, 4, 9, 13; 12.26, 36; 1 Chron 27.32). (106) [dm (‘knowledge’): This word appears also in Qoh 10.20; Dan 1.4, 17. Chronicles has [dm(h)w hmkj(h) (2 Chron 1.10, 11, 12// 1 Kgs 3.9, 11, 12). Kings’ shifting terminology and Chronicles’ repetition suggest that Chronicles revised the Vorlage. [dm joins hmkj in Dan. 1.4 (with noun t[d and verbs lkç, [dy and ˆyb) and 1.17 (with verbs lkç and ˆyb). The root [dy is productive in many BH forms. LBH [dm does not usurp related terminology. For example, hnyb in 1 Chron 12.33; 22.12; 2 Chron 2.11, 12, is also in EBH Deut 4.6; Isa 11.2; 27.11; 29.14, 24; 33.19; Jer 23.20. Chronicles has neither h[d or t[d but both are in EBH and the latter also in LBH books.138 (107) çrdm (‘story’): The verb çrd occurs 41 times in Chronicles (1/4th of all BH occurrences). Consequently it is unsurprising that çrdm, a distinctive hallmark of Rabbinic literature, should appear in this book only. The phrases wd[ aybnh çrdm (2 Chron 13.22; cf. 1 Kgs 15.7) and μyklmh rps çrdm (2 Chron 24.27) are technical designations in which çrdm means ‘story, commentary, annotation, record, writing’ rather than postbiblical ‘study, research, investigation, interpretation, exegesis, exposition, homily’.139 Polzin concludes:
136
E.g., Rooker, Transition, pp. 139–41. Young, ‘Late’, p. 288. 138 Tyler, ‘Ecclesiastes’, pp. 256–57. 139 Cf. Japhet, I & II Chronicles, pp. 699–700, 854; Williamson, Israel, pp. 17–19, 255, 326. Hurvitz has discussed çrdm together with the verb çrd arguing that the latter with ‘God’s commandments’ in Ezra 7.10 (çrd + hrwt) and 1 Chron 28.8 (çrd + rmç + twxm) is a late semantic development. However, he omits the predominant EBH usage (mostly non-synoptic): çrd + μyhla/hwhy: 1 Chron 10.14; 137
406
robert rezetko
‘. . . we would refrain from making any judgment on its chronological usage’.140 (108) lçmm (‘dominion’): Abstract ‘dominion’ (Dan 11.3, 5) functions for ‘rulers’ (μylçmmh) in 1 Chron 26.6. The root lçm is productive in all BH strata. Here, the noun is absent from the LXX, which reads toË prvtotÒkou ÑRvsa¤ (LXXB) or t“ prvtotÒkƒ ÑRvsa¤ (LXXAN). Revision toward MT is seen in LXXL. Most commentators think MT should be emended to μylçm μh or μylçmh. μylçmmh in MT 1 Chron 26.6 may not be the Chronicler’s word.141 (109) jxnm (‘overseer’): The D participle of jxn as a substantive occurs three times in Chronicles (μyjxnm; 2 Chron 2.1 [evv 2.2], 17 [evv 2.18]; 34.13), 55 times in Psalm superscriptions and similarly in Hab 3.19. The meaning of the technical expression jxnm outside Chronicles is uncertain. The D infinitive is found in Ezra 3.8, 9; 1 Chron 15.21; 23.4; 2 Chron 34.12; the HtD participle in Dan 6.4; and the N participle in Jer 8.5. The related noun jxn is usually found in LBH but also in EBH. The phrase μ[hAta dyb[hl μyjxnm in 2 Chron 2.17 (evv 2.18) is parallel to rça hmlçl μybxnh yrç hkalmhAl[ in 1 Kgs 5.30 (evv 5.16). The textual history is uncertain, but in any case Chronicles uses rç far more often than other biblical books. (110) br[m (‘west[ward]’): br[m (14 times), related to br[ (‘evening’), is considered a ‘late’ synonym of μy and awbm. The opposite notion, jrzm (‘east[ward]’, 74 times), is related to jrz (‘dawn’), but axwm rarely has this nuance (Hos 6.3; Ps 75.7; cf. Ps 19.7; 65.9). br[m is found in non-synoptic 1 Chron 7.28; 12.16; 26.16, 18, 30; 2 Chron 32.30; 33.14; and also in Isa 43.5; 45.6; 59.19; Pss 75.7; 103.12; 107.3; Dan 8.5. Chronicles also has the ‘earlier’ synonyms: 1 Chron 9.24 (hmy); 1 Kgs 7.25 (hmy)//2 Chron 4.4 (hmy); 2 Chron 20.2 (μyl rb[m).142 Furthermore, ‘transitional’ Ezekiel is monolithic, using only EBH μy/μyh/hmy (21 times). Additionally, μy and awbm occur occasionally in LBH: Isa 49.12 (μym); Zech 8.7 (çmçh awbm); Zech 14.4 (hmy); Dan 8.4
16.11//; 21.30; 22.19; 28.9; 2 Chron 12.14; 14.3, 6 (2x); 15.2, 12, 13; 16.12; 17.4; 18.7//; 19.3; 20.3; 22.9; 26.5 (2x); 30.19; 31.21; 34.3, 21//, 26//; rmç + rbd/μyqj/twxm/μyfpçm/twd[/hrwt: 1 Chron 10.13; 22.12, 13; 29.19; 2 Chron 7.17//; 34.21//, 31//. 140 Polzin, Late, p. 142. 141 Cf. in general Driver, ‘Alleged’, pp. 215–16. 142 Williamson, 1 and 2 Chronicles, p. 294.
‘late’
common nouns in the book of chronicles
407
(hmy; cf. br[m in 8.5).143 br[m is hardly ‘late’ as shown by Ugaritic m'rb. Ehrensvärd is correct that ‘it is doubtful that the word was not an option also in EBH’.144 (111) μytlxm (‘cymbals’): This instrument appears in Ezra 3.10; Neh 12.27; 1 Chron 13.8; 15.16, 19, 28; 16.5, 42; 25.1, 6; 2 Chron 5.12, 13; 29.25 (13 times total). Most consider it a late equivalent for μylxlx, mostly due to 2 Sam 6.5 (μylxlx)//1 Chron 13.8 (μytlxm). This is problematic. First, both terms are technical expressions and μytlxm may have a different referent than μylxlx. Second, in MT 2 Sam 6.5//MT 1 Chron 13.8, much more than simple substitution is involved; the textual evidence is complicated.145 Third, Samuel’s μylxlx occurs elsewhere in Ps 150.5 (twice). This doxology is generally considered postexilic. Fourth, Ugaritic mßltm disproves a ‘late’ beginning for Chronicles’ μytlxm.146 (112) trfqm (‘censer’): This noun arises in Ezek 8.11; 2 Chron 26.19. Rooker argued that trfqm replaced EBH htjm, which is found in P (18 times) and in 1 Kgs 7.50; Jer 52.19; 2 Kgs 25.15// 2 Chron 4.22. However, Rooker ruled out the occurrence in Chronicles, calling it borrowing.147 But the Chronicler elected not to replace the EBH term, as he often does, so once again the grounds for protest are unwarranted. Why then did the Chronicler decide to use trfqm in the story about the leprosy and death of Uzziah (2 Kgs 15.4–7// 2 Chron 26.16–23)? Japhet remarks: ‘This verse concludes the theme of “burning incense” with the words “censer” [trfqm, v. 19], “burn incense” [ryfqjl, vv. 16, 18 (2x), 19] and “altar of incense” [jbzm trfqh, vv. 16, 18], bringing the total of the repetitions of the root q†r in the pericope to seven’.148 Is ‘seven’ coincidental?149 Chronicles (26 times) follows only Leviticus (38 times) and Exodus (28 times) in uses
Cf. ˆwrjah μyhAla in Joel 2.20, Zech 14.8; μhyrjaAla in Zech 6.6. M. Ehrensvärd, ‘Linguistic Dating of Biblical Texts’, in Young, Biblical Hebrew, pp. 164–88 (181). However, on his reasoning cf. R. M. Wright, Linguistic Evidence for the Pre-Exilic Date of the Yahwistic Source (LHBOTS, 419; London: T & T Clark International, 2005), p. 100, n. 93. Wright discusses a possible dialect connection (p. 98, n. 84; p. 100, n. 93). 145 Rezetko, Source. 146 Gevirtz, ‘Syntax’, p. 26, n. 7; Watson, ‘Archaic’, p. 195. 147 Rooker, Transition, pp. 132–33. 148 Japhet, I & II Chronicles, p. 887. 149 For example, Kalimi discusses 1 Chron 2.13–15, where the writer makes Jesse’s sons into ‘seven’. See I. Kalimi, The Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History in Chronicles (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2005), pp. 365–68. 143 144
408
robert rezetko
of the root rfq. It has a positive connotation in the narratives of David, Solomon and Abijah (1 Chron 6.34 [evv 6.49]; 23.13; 28.18; 2 Chron 2.3 [evv 2.4], 5 [evv 2.6]; 13.11), but suddenly in 2 Chron 25.14 the concept refers to cultic transgression in the Chronicler’s dealing with ‘the theological problem of Amaziah’s defeat’.150 Following 2 Chron 26.16–23, the concept rotates from the context of cultic transgression by Ahaz (2 Chron 28.3, 4, 25), on to cultic reform by Hezekiah (2 Chron 29.7; 30.14; 32.12), and back again to cultic transgression by the people, resulting in Yahweh’s announcement of future judgement on Judah (2 Chron 34.25). Remarkably, in 2 Chron 26.16–23, the Chronicler begins to stress the key theme l[m in relation to the evil kings and eventual end of Judah.151 2 Chron 26.16–23, with rfq (vv. 16, 18, 19) and l[m (vv. 16, 18), seemingly highlights the reason for the beginning of the end. trfqm in 2 Chron 26.19 entails more than linguistic chronology. (113) μyrrwçm (‘singers’): The polel participle of ryç is used 35 times in Chronicles, Ezra and Nehemiah. Some think the term substitutes for the G participle μyrç. First, ‘singers’ appear in EBH only in 2 Sam 19.36 [evv 19.35] and 1 Kgs 10.12. Second, μyrrwçm may be a technical expression for certain singers in LBH. In addition, the polel rather than the D may have a different nuance.152 Third, LBH μyrç is used in Qoh 2.8 (twrçw μyrç). Elsewhere, μyrç is only found in Ezek 40.44; Pss 68.26; 87.7; Prov 25.20. Fourth, 1 Kgs 10.12//2 Chron 9.11 share μyrçh. Fifth, 2 Sam 19.35 and 2 Chron 35.25 have twrçw μyrç. (114) hawbn (‘prophecy’): This word appears in 2 Chron 9.29 (but cf. LXX t«n lÒgvn); 15.8; Neh. 6.12; and Aramaic Ezra 6.14. Many consider hawbn a ‘late’ synonym of rbd and ˆwzj. However, rbd is regularly used for this concept in Chronicles, and ˆwzj, rare even in EBH (only 1 Sam 3.1 in Genesis–Kings), appears in the Latter Prophets (17 times) and Writings (17 times), including 1 Chron 17.15 and 2 Chron 32.32.153 (115) πws (‘end’): This noun appears in Joel 2.20; Qoh 3.11; 7.2; 12.13; Aramaic Dan 4.8, 19; 6.27; 7.26, 28; 2 Chron 20.16. Many
150
Japhet, I & II Chronicles, p. 867. 1 Chron 2.7; 5.25; 9.1; 10.13 (2x); 2 Chron 12.2; 26.16, 18; 28.19 (2x), 22; 29.6, 19; 30.7; 33.19; 36.14. 152 HALOT 4:1480. 153 The root hzj in its diverse manifestations is remarkably uncommon in EBH. 151
‘late’
common nouns in the book of chronicles
409
consider πws a ‘late’ equivalent of EBH tyrja, ≈q and hxq.154 EBH has the verb πws in Jer 8.13; Amos 3.15 (cf. Isa 66.17; Zeph 1.2, 3; Ps 73.19; Est 9.28; Dan 2.44; 4.30).155 The distribution of the synonymous terminology is interesting.156 (1) Both EBH/LBH terms: Qoheleth: πws (3.11; 7.2; 12.13); tyrja (7.8; 10.13); ≈q (4.8, 16; 12.12); Daniel: πws (4.8, 19; 6.27; 7.26, 28); tyrja (8.19, 23; 10.14; 11.4; 12.8); ≈q (8.17, 19; 9.26; 11.6, 13, 27, 35, 40, 45; 12.4, 6, 9, 13); txq (1.2, 5, 15, 18; 2.42; 4.26, 31); Chronicles: πws (2 Chron 20.16); ≈q (2 Chron 8.1; 18.2; 21.19). (2) Only EBH terms: Ezekiel: tyrja (23.25; 38.8, 16); ≈q (7.2, 3, 6; 21.30, 34; 29.13; 35.5); hx;q; (15.4); hx,q; (3.16; 25.9; 33.2; 39.14; 48.1); II–III Isaiah: tyrja (41.22; 46.10; 47.7); hx;q; (40.28; 41.5, 9); hx,q; (42.10; 43.6; 48.20; 49.6; 56.11; 62.11); Job: tyrja (8.7; 42.12); ≈q (6.11; 16.3; 22.5; 28.3); hx;q; (26.14; 28.24); Esther: ≈q (2.12); Nehemiah: ≈q (13.6); hx,q; (1.9); txq (7.69). (116) rps (‘census’): 2 Chron 2.16 (evv 2.17) uses this word together with the verb rps (twice; very rarely doubled): ‘Then Solomon took a census (rpsyw) of all the aliens who were residing in the land of Israel, after the census (rpsh) that his father David had taken (μrps); and there were found to be one hundred fifty-three thousand six hundred’ (nrsv). Census taking is generally described by the verbs hnm, açn, rps or dqp (sometimes with çar/tlglg). Often rpsm and/or dqpm serves for the ‘number’ or ‘count’ of a census. For example: 2 1 2 1
154
Sam 24.2 Chron 21.2 Sam 24.9 Chron 21.5
// μ[h rpsm ta yt[dyw μ[hAta wdqpw . . . μrpsmAta h[daw . . . larçyAta wrps . . . //. . . μ[hAdqpm rpsmAta . . . . . . μ[hAdqpm rpsmAta . . .
Hurvitz cites post-biblical Aramaic and Hebrew evidence for the lateness of
πws; however, he also says: ‘It must be admitted, that – for one reason or another – πwOs does not seem to be attested in extra-biblical Aramaic documents dated to the Persian period’ (p. 298, n. 10). See A. Hurvitz, ‘rb;D:AvaOr and rb;D: πwOs: Reflexes of
Two Scribal Terms Imported into Biblical Hebrew from the Imperial Aramaic Formulary’, in M. F. J. Baasten and W. Th. van Peursen (eds.), Hamlet on a Hill: Semitic and Greek Studies Presented to Professor T. Muraoka on the Occasion of his Sixty-Fifth Birthday (OLA, 118; Leuven: Peeters, 2003), pp. 281–86. 155 Jeremiah and Zephaniah are uncertain. Cf. M. Saebø, ‘πwOs’, in TDOT 10:188–90 (188). Several cite the ‘early’ verb as evidence: D. C. Fredericks, Qoheleth’s Language: Re-evaluating Its Nature and Date (Ancient Near Eastern Texts and Studies, 3; Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, 1988), pp. 204, 233; Tyler, ‘Ecclesiastes’, pp. 163–69; Young, Diversity, pp. 153–54. 156 The following nouns are not used identically, but there is much overlap in their use for concepts of time and space.
410
robert rezetko
rpsh was not inevitable in 2 Chron 2.16. Regardless of any change in nuance, the writer chose not to use rpsm. (117) hrz[ (‘court, enclosure’): This word appears in Ezek 43.14 (3x), 17, 20; 45.19; 2 Chron 4.9; 6.13. Many consider hrz[ a ‘late’ equivalent of rxj. Hurvitz argued that (1) P’s antiquity is evidenced by the absence of hrz[ in the tabernacle description; (2) Ezekiel’s hrz[ (‘[any] enclosure’) represents a transitional stage in the temple description; and (3) Chronicles’ hrz[ (‘[temple] court’) has a meaning unknown to both P and Ezekiel. Furthermore, Chronicles’ description of the temple vis-à-vis Kings is tendentiously anachronistic. Hurvitz concluded that Chronicles’ hrz[ replaced ‘functionally’ and ‘linguistically’ earlier rxj.157 First, scholars agree that the Israelite temple(s) was not a static architectural entity. Furthermore, the buildings’ and precincts’ precise layout has been much debated but details are still obscure. Second, the origin of hrz[ is uncertain, and Chronicles’ usage and the word’s frequent appearance in postbiblical literature do not demonstrate the lexeme’s ‘late’ origin. Third, Hurvitz pointed out the difficulty in discussing hrz[ with reference to the portable tabernacle and the permanent temple.158 Fourth, it is necessary to distinguish functional from linguistic equivalents. That the lexeme hrz[ does not replace the lexeme rxj linguistically in Chronicles is certain: hlwdgh hrz[hw μynhkh rxj ç[yw (2 Chron 4.9; cf. 1 Chron 23.8; 28.6, 12; 2 Chron 7.7; 20.5; 23.5; 24.21; 29.16; 33.5). Fifth, Hurvitz gave a parallel layout of synoptic passages: 1 Kgs 7.38–40//2 Chron 4.6–11; 1 Kgs 8.22–23//2 Chron 6.12–14. His point was that Chronicles introduced the word in interpretative expansions absent from Kings. However, Hurvitz misread several relevant verses in Kings.159 1 Kings 7.9 and v. 12 speak about the hlwdgh rxjh. Japhet says: The last items here are the ‘court of the priests’ [μynhkh rxj] and the ‘great court’ [hlwdgh hrz[hw], and their doors. In Kings, three courts are mentioned: ‘the inner court’ (I Kings 6.36; 7.12), ‘the great court’ (7.12, [hlwdgh rxh]), and the outer court’ (7.8), probably a part of the
157
A. Hurvitz, ‘The Evidence of Language in Dating the Priestly Code: A Linguistic Study in Technical Idioms and Terminology’, RB 81 (1974), pp. 24–56 (41–43); idem, Linguistic Study, pp. 78–81. 158 Hurvitz, ‘Evidence’, p. 43, n. 34. 159 Hurvitz, Linguistic, p. 80, n. 82 cites 1 Kgs 7.12 in passing.
‘late’
common nouns in the book of chronicles
411
complex of palace buildings. The court mentioned in 8.64 (II Chron. 7.7), ‘the court that was before the house of the Lord’, is probably identical with ‘the inner court’. Of all the texts from I Kings just cited as referring to the courts, not one is repeated in Chronicles; this verse is in fact the only reference to the courts in the building context of Chronicles. It would seem that the architectural picture is the same, with the two courts having somewhat different designations: ‘the court of the priests’ (which may refer to the ‘inner court’), and ‘the great court’ [hlwdgh hrz[hw].160
Sixth, among others Dillard and Williamson argue that 2 Chron 6.13 was probably in the Vorlage.161 (118) dm[ (‘standing post, station’): This noun is used eight times as dm[Al[ + suffixed pronoun (Dan 8.18; 10.11; Neh 8.7; 9.3; 13.11; 2 Chron 30.16; 34.31; 35.10) and once in Daniel as ydm[ lxa (Dan 8.17). Some suggest that dm[Al[ + suffix is a ‘late’ substitute for tjt + suffix. For example, referring to Neh 9.3, BDB says ‘later equiv. ; T] ’' .162 Now, if μdm[Al[ wmwqyw, ‘and they stood up in their place’, of μT;t (1) means ‘and they stood up where they happened to be prostrate at that particular moment’, then EBH and LBH have many similar examples using tjt with a suffix163; (2) but if the clause means ‘and they stood in their appropriate or respective station’,164 then passages with an exact equivalent to ‘standing post, station’ where one normally stands are very few. Isa 22.19 has ˚dm[mmw (‘and from your post’) but 1 Chron 23.28 has μdm[m (‘their station’) and 2 Chron 35.15 has μm[mAl[ (‘in their place’).165 (119) rypx (‘he-goat’): This noun occurs in Dan 8.5 (twice), 8, 21; Aramaic Ezra 6.17; 8.35; 2 Chron 29.21. Usually it is called a ‘late’ synonym of ry[ç.166 The latter appears in Gen 37.31, Leviticus– Numbers (47 times), Ezekiel (3 times) and 2 Chron 29.23. Specifically,
160
Japhet, I & II Chronicles, p. 567 (emphasis added); cf. Kalimi, Reshaping, pp. 277–78. 161 Dillard, Chronicles, pp. 46, 48 (cf. 36–37); Williamson, 1 and 2 Chronicles, pp. 217–18 (cf. 211). These do not, of course, speculate on the detailed form or content of the verse in the Vorlage. 162 BDB, p. 765. 163 E.g., μtjt wbçyw in Deut 2.12, 21, 22, 23; μhytjt wbçyw in 1 Chron 4.41; 5.22. 164 In my view, 2 Chron 30.16; 35.10; and probably 34.31, have this meaning. 165 Polzin, Late, p. 148, would also add dm[m to the ‘early’ synonyms of dm[. See the different nuance of dm[m in 1 Kgs 10.5//2 Chron 9.4. 166 çyt is not used in sacrificial contexts (Gen 30.35; 32.15; Prov 30.31; 2 Chron 17.11).
robert rezetko
412
μyz[ ry[ç occurs in Gen 37.31, Leviticus (4 times), Numbers (21 times total, once as μyz[ yry[ç) and Ezekiel (twice). In contrast, LBH has: μyz[h rypx (Dan 8.5, 8); ˆyz[ yrypx (Ezra 6.17); μyz[ yrypx (2 Chron 29.21). Non-synoptic Chronicles has interesting variation: 2 Chron 29.21 (tafjl h[bç μyz[ yrypx); 2 Chron 29.23 (tafjh yry[ç). An obvious explanation for the variation is lacking. The noun’s origin is uncertain. Several have proposed that klb ßpr in KTU 1.14 iii 19 reflects the lexeme but others find in ßpr an equivalent to Hebrew rwpx (‘bird’).167 However r“p ßprm in the Phoenician inscription of Azatiwada (ca. 700 bce) should probably be rendered ‘Re“eph of the stags’ (2.12).168 Finally, ‘early’ ry[ç, but not rypx, is found in QH (e.g., 11Q19–20). (120) ˚rx (‘need’): This word, found only in 2 Chron 2.15, is considered a late Aramaism. However, Polzin omitted this term. Kutscher said: ‘In the past, scholars assumed that these two roots ˚rx and rvk were Aramaic. Today this seems much less probable since their form in Aramaic should have been ˚r[* and rtk*. The first root appears as ˚rx in Ugaritic (and the second as ròtk?). Therefore, these roots might have belonged to a Hebrew or Canaanite dialect’.169 The root rsj in EBH/LBH generally expresses ‘lack, need, want’. Cf. ˚xpjAlk in 1 Kgs 5.22. (121) lhq (‘congregation’): Many think hd[ is ‘old’ and that lhq gradually overtook and completely supplanted the ‘earlier’ term in LBH.170 Chronicles has the root lhq twice as often as any other book (40 times; cf. Numbers, 21 times). However, about 40% of the root’s manifestations are found in Genesis–Kings. In summary: Gen Exod
167
0 hd[/4 lhq 15 hd[/2 lhq
Josh Judg
15 hd[/1 lhq 5 hd[/3 lhq
Jer Ezek
2 hd[/4 lhq 0 hd[/15 lhq
HALOT 3:1047–48. K. L. Younger, ‘The Phoenician Inscription of Azatiwada: An Integrated Reading’, JSS 43 (1998), pp. 11–47 (18, 32). 169 Kutscher, History, p. 83; cf. J. Barr, ‘Hebrew, Aramaic and Greek in the Hellenistic Age’, in W. D. Davies and L. Finkelstein (eds.), The Cambridge History of Judaism, Volume Two: The Hellenistic Age (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), pp. 79–114 (81): ‘. . . these are essential features of later diction, for which Biblical Hebrew has no real equivalent’; also cf. D. Talshir, ‘The Habitat and History of Hebrew during the Second Temple Period’, in Young, Biblical Hebrew, pp. 251–75 (273). 170 E.g., Hurvitz, Linguistic, pp. 65–67, 145–46; Rooker, Transition, pp. 143–46; cf. Rezetko, Source. 168
‘late’
Lev Num Deut
common nouns in the book of chronicles
12 hd[/5 lhq 83 hd[/12 lhq 3 hd[/11 lhq
Sam Kgs
0 hd[/1 lhq 2 hd[/6 lhq
413
Ezra 0 hd[/5 lhq Neh 0 hd[/5 lhq Chron 1 hd[/33 lhq
This mixture in both EBH and LBH is further appreciated by comparing synonymous expressions: (1) larçy tdañAlkÑ: Exod 12.3, 6 (larçy tda lhq lk), 19, 47; Lev 4.13; Num 16.9; 32.4; Josh 22.18, 20; 1 Kgs 8.5//2 Chron 5.6; (2) larçy lhqAlk: Lev 16.17; Deut 31.30; Josh 8.35; 1 Kgs 8.55; 12.3; 1 Chron 13.2; 2 Chron 6.13; 1 Kgs 8.14 (twice)//2 Chron 6.3 (twice); 1 Kgs 8.22//2 Chron 6.12. Milgrom’s explanation of Deuteronomy’s lhq, Rooker’s of Chronicles’ hd[, and Hurvitz’s of the preference in QH for hd[ fall short.171 Finally, Young says ‘while it is claimed that the term hd[ for “congregation” is not used in Persian period Hebrew, for instance Chronicles . . ., it is attested a number of times in Elephantine texts . . . A full study seems called for’.172 (122) wbr (‘myriad’): wbr in 1 Chron 29.7 (twice) is considered a later Aramaising synonym of hbbr. However: (1) ñaÑwbr: Hos 8.12 (K); Jon 4.11; Ps 68.18; Aramaic Dan 7.10; 11.12; Ezra 2.64, 69; Neh 7.66, 70, 71; 1 Chron 29.7 (2x); (2) hbbr: Gen 24.60; Lev 26.8; Num 10.36; Deut 32.30; 33.2, 17; Judg 20.10; 1 Sam 18.7, 8; 21.12; 29.5; Ezek 16.7; Mic 6.7; Ps. 3.7; 91.7; Cant 5.10. Landes comments: . . . that wbr came into Hebrew for the first time in the post-exilic era under Aramaic influence is by no means certain. . . . Since we have no evidence for wbr in pre-exilic Aramaic, it is more likely that it came into Hebrew as a (poetic?) variant for hbbr from Canaanite-Phoenician. Whether it is directly descended from Ugaritic rbt is not wholly clear, but possible.173
(123) hpxr (‘paved floor’): This word occurs in Ezek 40.17 (2x), 18 (2x); 42.3; Est 1.6; non-synoptic 2 Chron 7.3. It is deemed a ‘late’
171
Hurvitz, Linguistic, p. 66, n. 33; Milgrom, Leviticus 1–16, p. 5; Rooker, Transition, p. 143, n. 61. 172 Young, ‘Late’, p. 280, n. 5; cf. P. R. Davies, ‘Biblical Hebrew and the History of Ancient Judah: Typology, Chronology and Common Sense’, in Young, Biblical Hebrew, pp. 150–63 (159–60). 173 G. M. Landes, ‘Linguistic Criteria and the Date of the Book of Jonah’, in B. A. Levine and A. Malamat (eds.), Harry M. Orlinsky Volume (ErIsr, 16; Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society—Hebrew Union College, 1982), pp. 147*–70* (154*); cf. R. Meyer, Hebräische Grammatik (4 vols; Berlin: W. de Gruyter, 1992), 2:§42.5 (p. 42).
414
robert rezetko
equivalent of tpxrm (2 Kgs 16.17) and [qrq (Num 5.17; 1 Kgs 6.15 [2x], 16, 30; 7.7 [2x]; Amos 9.3). Hurvitz discussed this item, summarising the BH prostration formula and arguing that the distribution of hpxr in ‘late’ texts and its usage in postbiblical Hebrew show that ‘the apparently redundant component . . . represents a distinctively late linguistic element’.174 He stresses that this is a ‘terminological innovation’ regardless of other factors that might have motivated its appearance in ‘late’ texts. However, Hurvitz gave a good reason for the inclusion of hpxr in Chronicles. He said: ‘The episode in 2 Chr 7:3 takes place in the presence of God; kneeling in prayer hpxrh l[ (“solid/paved floor”) might well have been regarded as more suitable than casting oneself down hxra μypa or [qrqh l[* – the primary connotation of both ≈ra and [qrq being “earth/ ground”’.175 First, Hurvitz’s remark is well taken. Excluding [qrq in Num 5.17 (‘the dust on the floor of the tabernacle’) and Amos 9.3 (‘the bottom of the sea’), the terminology in Kings, Ezekiel and Esther is purely descriptive of architectural phenomena. Second, hpxr l[ does not replace or explain the typical phrase hxra μypa which occurs here but also in 1 Chron 21.21 and non-synoptic 2 Chron 20.18. These points suggest that hpxr l[ in 2 Chron 7.3 is not haphazard or redundant or stylistic or a modernisation. Third, the temple narratives differ in many details in 1 Kings 5–8//1 Chronicles 2.1–7.10, especially following Solomon’s lengthy prayer and before the offering of sacrifices: 1 Kgs 8.54–61 reports Solomon’s blessing of the people whereas 2 Chron 7.1–3 relates Yahweh’s response in fire (ça, twice) and glory (dwbk, twice) and the people’s profound reaction to this revelation. Many remark that 2 Chron 7.1–3 repeats and augments 1 Kgs 8.10–11//2 Chron 5.13–14 (‘chiasm’, ‘framework’, ‘inclusio’, ‘resumptive repetiton’; cf. Ps 136.1 citations). In addition: ‘This conflagration is not only the final confirmation of all the steps so far taken by David and Solomon, but also accentuates the continuity between the wilderness tabernacle and the temple’.176 Alongside this typological parallel, Chronicles highlights the assembly’s response (wwjtçyw hpxrhAl[ hxra μypa w[rkyw) both in comparison with the
174
Hurvitz, ‘Continuity’, p. 132. Hurvitz, ‘Continuity’, p. 133, n. 17. He discounted other ‘non-chronological’ factors. 176 Japhet, I & II Chronicles, p. 609. 175
‘late’
common nouns in the book of chronicles
415
prostration formula in general and with the Israelites’ response in Chronicles’ model passage in particular: μhynpAl[ wlpyw (Lev 9.23–24).177 Regardless of the linguistic environments of the writers—and Kings’ milieu of composition is debatable—Chronicles’ wording of the prostration formula and the book’s inclusion of the passage in which the formula occurs, are entirely explainable from a narrative perspective.178 (124) dymlt (‘student’): This noun appears in 1 Chron 25.8. The parallelism in the verse (dymltAμ[ ˆybm lwdgk ˆfqk) suggests that the word means ‘pupil, student, apprentice, learner’ (nab, nasb, niv, nrsv, etc.) rather than ‘master, scholar’ (asv, jps, kjv, njb, etc.). dymlt is usually taken as a trans-Aramaic Akkadian loanword. However, as observed by Mankowski, ‘Neither phonology nor semantics prevent dymil]T' from being an independent borrowing in BH’.179 Ugaritic has tlmdm in reference to draught animals (KTU 4.384 8).180 The closest synonym of dymlt is the adjective dwml (Isa 8.16; 50.4; 54.13; Jer 2.24; 13.23). 8. Conclusion Quantity: The 91 ‘late’ common noun lexemes in Chronicles constitute 13% of the 700 common noun lexemes in the book. Further, the 160 total occurrences of these in Chronicles constitute 2% of the 8,000 total occurrences of all common nouns. However, from the start I would not deem 1–60 ‘late’ so consequently the percentages become 4% and 1%, respectively. In short, we may generalise by saying that the vocabulary of LBH Chronicles is virtually identical to the vocabulary of EBH.181 Elwolde arrived independently at this same conclusion.182 177
All commentators acknowledge the textual relationship. See also Exod 20.18; 24.16–17; 40.34–38; Deut 5.23–26; 1 Kgs 18.38–39; 1 Chron 21.26, 30 (cf. //2 Sam 24.25). 178 Lydie Kucová’s contribution to the present volume shows that acts of prostration can involve much more than immediately meets the eye. 179 Mankowski, Akkadian, p. 151. 180 Watson, ‘Archaic’, p. 197. 181 For argument’s sake I would grant that this linguistic continuity was due in part to the synopticity of Chronicles with EBH texts, but since 60% of Chronicles is non-synoptic, these figures would not vary tremendously. However, I am unconvinced that non-synoptic material better represents the writer’s language. His ‘literary’ hands were never tied behind his back. 182 Elwolde, ‘Developments’, pp. 51–52.
416
robert rezetko
Distribution: The ‘late’ vocabulary discussed in sections six and seven is distributed evenly throughout the book. Only a few chapters are sprinkled with multiple ‘late’ words: 1 Chronicles 15, 16, 25, 26, 28, 29; 2 Chronicles 2. This is very minimal ‘accumulation’ or ‘penetration’. Semantic categories: The ‘late’ vocabulary includes nearly equal numbers of abstract ideas and concrete items. Many words relate to the ‘cultic-religious’ sphere, and quite a few refer to materials for the construction and function of the temple, many of which are technical. Some themes are repeated, e.g.: division (hglpm, hglp), footstool (μdh, çbk), health (hkwra, hl,j}m,' ywljm), lifting (aC;m,' aoCm'), numbers (ˆwmh, tybrm, rps), part (hQ;luj,' tnm), prophecy (twOzj}, hzj, hawbn), writing (trga, btk, çrdm). Relation to LBH: LBH is not monolithic or uniform. Chronicles’ language is different than the language of Ezra–Nehemiah. 183 Additionally, Bergey’s study illustrates LBH diversity. For example, he discussed 15 LBH common noun lexemes in Esther. Of these, once Chronicles uses neither word, twice Chronicles uses the LBH word only (≈wb, hpxr), three times Chronicles uses both the EBH and LBH words (LBH trga, btk, raç), and nine times Chronicles uses the EBH word only (e.g., dwbk rather than rqy). Conversely, some ‘late’ books hardly have ‘late’ language. Ehrensvärd argued that the language of books like II Isaiah, Joel, Haggai, Zechariah 1–8 and Malachi is EBH rather than being close to EBH.184 These factors suggest that ‘late’ language is an escapable aspect of ‘late’ books. Linguistic ‘merger’?: What accounts for Chronicles’ ‘variegated’ EBH– LBH landscape?185 First, regarding the principle of frequency (concentration, accumulation), ‘new’ or ‘late’ common nouns in Chronicles are infrequent. Second, regarding the principle of contrast (opposition),
183 A. Kropat, Die Syntax des Autors der Chronik verglichen mit der seiner Quellen (BZAW, 16; Giessen: Alfred Töpelmann, 1909); Japhet, ‘Supposed’; Polzin, Late; Williamson, Israel; M. A. Throntveit, ‘Linguistic Analysis and the Question of Authorship in Chronicles, Ezra and Nehemiah’, VT 32 (1982), pp. 201–16; Talshir, ‘Reinvestigation’; cf. Elwolde, ‘Developments’, pp. 53–54, n. 102; Young, Diversity, p. 84; idem, ‘Late’, pp. 313–14. 184 Ehrensvärd, ‘Linguistic’; M. Ehrensvärd, ‘Why Biblical Texts Cannot be Dated Linguistically’, HS 47 (2006) (forthcoming). On their language he cites Hurvitz among others. 185 Frequent adjectives for Chronicles’ LBH language are ‘late, new, artificial, dead, blended, mixed, plural, impure, erratic, deteriorated, dependant, imitative, neological, innovative, inventive, pseudo-classical, post-classical, non-classical’, etc.
‘late’
common nouns in the book of chronicles
417
Chronicles uses EBH and LBH terminology. The cases where a LBH common noun completely ‘replaces’ or ‘supplants’ an EBH word are rare, and even several of these are doubtful (≈wb, ?hpwg, ˆz, lymrk, ?μytlxm, ˆdn, wbr). Regarding common nouns, the most productive part of speech in BH, Chronicles is mostly EBH with some LBH lexical elements sprinkled here and there.186 It should also be stressed that writers’ and editors’ occasional choice for ‘late’ terminology, sometimes with a detectable objective in mind, undermines the hypothesis that the issue is ‘linguistic’ rather than ‘literary’. A new perspective: (1) Rather than ‘early’ and ‘late’ language I prefer terms such as ‘conservative’ or ‘traditional’ and ‘liberal’ or ‘nonconservative’ or ‘non-traditional’. The difference between the Chronicler and his EBH counterparts was his openness to draw slightly more often from the broad linguistic reservoir at his and their disposal. Furthermore, he was not haphazard, but purposeful in his methodology. (2) With respect to Chronicles and Samuel–Kings we should think in terms of different regional schools or scribal traditions of biblical composition and redaction. Several scholars have suggested that this is the path to follow.187 I agree.
186 Therefore, I disagree with the idea that the Chronicler’s writing was archaistic or imitative or pseudo-classical, as stated by, e.g., J. Joosten, ‘Pseudo-Classicisms in Late Biblical Hebrew, in Ben Sira, and in Qumran Hebrew’, in Muraoka and Elwolde, Sirach, pp. 146–59 (149); cf. Hurvitz, ‘Evidence’, p. 33, n. 19. Perhaps Chronicles’ ‘mixed’ language should incite us to shift the ‘transitional’ period in BH from the 6th (Ezekiel; Hurvitz, Rooker) to the 5th (Ezra–Nehemiah; Driver, Talshir) to the 4th (Chronicles) century bce? However, in my opinion, the notion of ‘transitional Hebrew’ in BH should be abandoned altogether. 187 Davies, ‘Biblical’, p. 162; J. Naudé, ‘A Perspective on the Chronological Framework of Biblical Hebrew’, JNSL 30 (2004), pp. 87–102 (96–97); Person, Deuteronomic School, pp. 142–44; cf. his contribution to the present volume; Talshir, ‘Habitat’, pp. 262–64, 269; I. Young, ‘Concluding Reflections’, in Young, Biblical Hebrew, pp. 312–17 (314–17); idem, ‘Biblical Texts Cannot be Dated Linguistically’, HS 46 (2005), pp. 341–51. See also A. G. Auld, Kings without Privilege: David and Moses in the Story of the Bible’s Kings (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994), pp. 9–10.
ISRAEL’S SOJOURN IN THE WILDERNESS AND THE CONSTRUCTION OF THE BOOK OF NUMBERS1 Thomas Christian Römer 1. Introduction The lack of any consensus is probably the first thought that comes to mind when one tries to describe the current state of historical and critical Pentateuchal research. A growing number of authors, especially in Europe, have given up the traditional documentary hypothesis, which by the way is still popular in textbooks and publications for larger audiences. The idea that a tenth century Yahwist created the narrative structure of the Pentateuch (or Hexateuch) starting with the creation of the world and ending with Israel’s entrance into the Promised Land, or that he even inherited this structure in an oral form, has become a very difficult and dubious assumption. Archaeological, socio-historical and literary reasons no longer allow one to locate the edition of the first ‘Pentateuchal narrative’ at the beginning of Israelite monarchy. It is not my concern in this context to provide an overview of every issue in the current debate. We will restrict ourselves to the question of the origin of the Pentateuchal or Hexateuchal narrative. This question may also be formulated in the following way: When were all the so-called major themes of the Pentateuch or Hexateuch (primeval history, the Patriarchal narratives, the epic of the exodus, the lawgiving on mount Sinai, the sojourn of Israel in the wilderness, the conquest of the land) combined for the first time? This debate will open new perspectives on the formation of the book of Numbers.
1 This paper was given at the SOTS meeting, January 2005, in Birmingham under the presidency of Professor A. G. Auld. It is my pleasure to offer these thoughts to an esteemed colleague and a very good friend.
420
thomas christian römer 2. The Question of a Pre-Priestly Pentateuch
Despite the apparent lack of consensus, there is a general agreement that the second half of the Persian period saw the birth of the Torah and of Judaism as a Torah-related religion. But where did the conception of the narrative structure of this Torah originate? A number of scholars still postulate a Yahwistic document as the nucleus of the Pentateuch. Given the fact that von Rad’s idea of a Yahwist writing in the time of a chimeric ‘Solomonic enlightenment’ is no longer tenable, some authors return to Wellhausen’s view of J (or JE) as a work from the monarchical period (thus in particular Nicholson, Seebass).2 Martin Rose follows the intuitions of H. H. Schmid’s book on the ‘so-called Yahwist’, who had emphasised the deuteronomistic influence on the vocabulary and ideology of the texts, which Noth had attributed to J.3 Rose transforms J into a Deuteronomist of the second or third generation, and considers his work in Genesis to Numbers as a prologue and, simultaneously, a ‘theological amendment’ to the Deuteronomistic History.4 This approach is quite close to the distinction, in the Pentateuch, between a D-composition prefacing the Deuteronomistic History and a P-composition, as postulated by E. Blum and others.5 Quite similarly, John Van Seters considers the Yahwist as a later expansion of the Deuteronomist’s work.6 But in 2
E. W. Nicholson, The Pentateuch in the Twentieth Century: The Legacy of Julius Wellhausen (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998); H. Seebass, ‘Pentateuch’, TRE 26:185–209. 3 H. H. Schmid, Der sogenannte Jahwist: Beobachtungen und Fragen zur Pentateuchforschung (Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 1976). 4 M. Rose, Deuteronomist und Jahwist: Untersuchungen zu den Berührungspunkten beider Literaturwerke (ATANT, 67; Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 1981); for the same approach see F. H. Cryer, ‘On the Relationship between the Yahwistic and the Deuteronomistic Histories’, BN 29 (1985), pp. 58–74. 5 E. Blum, Studien zur Komposition des Pentateuch (BZAW, 189; Berlin: W. de Gruyter, 1990); see also W. Johnstone, ‘The Deuteronomistic Cycles of “Signs” and “Wonders” in Exodus 1–13’, in A. G. Auld (ed.), Understanding Poets and Prophets: Essays in Honour of George Wishart Anderson ( JSOTSup, 152; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993), pp. 166–85; F. García López, ‘Deut 34, Dtr History and the Pentateuch’, in F. García Martínez et al. (eds.), Studies in Deuteronomy: In Honour of C. J. Labuschagne on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday (VTSup, 53; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1994), pp. 47–61. 6 J. Van Seters, Prologue to History: The Yahwist as Historian in Genesis (Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 1992); see also idem, The Life of Moses: The Yahwist as Historian in Exodus–Numbers (Kampen: Kok Pharos; Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1994). For the primeval history, Van Seters suggests that J is directly dependent on the Babylonian version of the Flood, which is conserved in the Epic of Gilgamesh.
israel’s sojourn in the wilderness
421
contrast to the Yahwist of Rose and the D composition of Blum, Van Seters’ Yahwist is above all an antiquarian historian who freely composes his work. J is a contemporary of Second Isaiah and close to his universal perspective. Christoph Levin7 also locates J in the exilic period, later than the book of Deuteronomy, but nevertheless earlier than the Deuteronomistic History. J represents the perspective of a more popular type of religiosity, as well as the concerns of the Diaspora; as such, he defends the diversity of cultic places where Yahweh may be worshipped contra the authors of Deuteronomy. According to Levin, J is foremost a collector and a redactor; he is the first to organise his older sources into a narrative, which covers (more or less) the extent of the Pentateuch.8 Levin actually combines in his description of the work of the Yahwist a fragment theory with a supplementary theory, since more than half of the non-priestly texts of the Pentateuch are supplements added to the Yahwistic work by numerous redactors. The problem of all these Yahwists (or ‘Deuteronomists’) is that they tend to become very elusive after the exodus story. The recent reconstruction of the Yahwistic history by Levin reveals that a concentration of 82% of the J document is found in Genesis. The J-text after the arrival in the wilderness is limited (after Exodus 16–18*) to Exod *19.2–3; 24.18; 34.5, 9a, 28a; Num 10.12, 29–31, 33; 11.2, 4, 11, 23, 31–32; 20.1; 22.1–8, 12, 21–22, 36, 41; 23.2; 24.1, 3–6, 9–11, 25; 25.1; Deut 34.5–6.* The concentration of the so-called Yahwist to the book of Genesis is nothing new. Since the nineteenth century, the entire documentary hypothesis, including the notion of a Yahwistic document, was indeed essentially elaborated through analyses of the book of Genesis. Significantly, and for all the differences in the various conceptions of J in a little more than two centuries, it appears that up to now the book of Genesis remains the basis for the study of J. One may
7 C. Levin, Der Jahwist (FRLANT, 157; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1993). 8 In a recent article Levin still argues, as in his book, that the end of J may be lost, cf. C. Levin, ‘Das israelitische Nationalepos: Der Jahwist’, in M. Hose (ed.), Große Texte alter Kulturen: Literarische Reise von Gizeh nach Rom (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2004), pp. 63–86 (74). However, in a recent reconstruction of J, which Prof. Levin kindly sent to me, he identifies the end of J in Num 25.1 and Deut 34.5–6*.
422
thomas christian römer
therefore wonder whether the so-called Yahwist should not be limited to Genesis, as was already suggested by Winnett9 and, more recently, by Kratz.10 Such an idea (if one wishes to keep the siglum ‘J’, which is not really necessary) would gain support from another new trend in the current research on the Torah: the emphasis on the ideological and literary gap between the Patriarchs and Exodus. In a recent study, Konrad Schmid,11 building on earlier works of Winnett, de Pury and others,12 has argued that the literary link between Genesis and Exodus was only created by the Priestly document. According to Schmid the earliest literary links between the Patriarchal narratives and the Exodus story belong to P, especially Genesis 17 and Exodus 6. The debate is, of course, open,13 but there is nevertheless a trend to
9 F. V. Winnett, The Mosaic Tradition (Near and Middle East Series, 1; Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1949). 10 R. G. Kratz, Die Komposition der erzählenden Bücher des Alten Testaments: Grundwissen der Bibelkritik (Uni-Taschenbücher für Wissenschaft, 2157; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000), pp. 249–330. Kratz limits J to Genesis 1–36*; he labels ‘E’ the original Exodus story running from Exodus 1* to Joshua 12*. 11 K. Schmid, Erzväter und Exodus: Untersuchungen zur doppelten Begründung der Ursprünge Israels innerhalb der Geschichtsbücher des Alten Testaments (WMANT, 81; NeukirchenVluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1999). 12 F. V. Winnett, ‘Re-examining the Foundations’, JBL 84 (1965), pp. 1–19; A. de Pury, ‘Las dos leyendas sobre el origen de Israel ( Jacob y Moisés) y la elaboración del Pentateuco’, EstBíb 52 (1994), pp. 95–131; idem, ‘Abraham: The Priestly Writer’s “Ecumenical” Ancestor’, in S. L. McKenzie, T. Römer and H. H. Schmid (eds.), Rethinking the Foundations: Historiography in the Ancient World and in the Bible: Essays in Honour of John Van Seters (BZAW, 294; Berlin: W. de Gruyter, 2000), pp. 163–81; T. Römer, Israels Väter: Untersuchungen zur Väterthematik im Deuteronomium und in der deuteronomistischen Tradition (OBO, 99; Freiburg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1990); idem, ‘Deuteronomy in Search of Origins’, in G. N. Knoppers and J. G. McConville (eds.), Reconsidering Israel and Judah: Recent Studies on the Deuteronomistic History (Sources for Biblical and Theological Study, 8; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2000), pp. 112–38. That the Patriarchal narratives and the Exodus story represent two competing origin traditions was already argued by W. Staerk, Studien zur Religions- und Sprachgeschichte des alten Testaments (2 vols; Berlin: Georg Reimer, 1899) and K. Galling, Die Erwählungstraditionen Israels (BZAW, 48; Giessen: Alfred Töpelmann, 1928). But for these authors both traditions were already linked in the time of the Jehovist or even earlier. 13 For P as creator of the link between Genesis and Exodus see also J. C. Gertz, Tradition und Redaktion in der Exoduserzählung: Untersuchungen zur Endredaktion des Pentateuch (FRLANT, 186; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1999); E. Otto, Das Deuteronomium im Pentateuch und Hexateuch: Studien zur Literaturgeschichte von Pentateuch und Hexateuch im Lichte des Deuteronomiumsrahmens (FAT, 30; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000). For a critical evaluation see G. Davies, ‘The Final Redaction of the Pentateuch’, SOTS Summer Meeting 2001 (http://www.trinity-bris.ac.uk/sots/conferences2001.html).
israel’s sojourn in the wilderness
423
underline the literary and theological differences between Genesis and the following books of the Torah. This is, for instance, the case of E. Blum, who has modified his former hypothesis about the Pentateuch as a compromise between a ‘D composition’ and a ‘P composition’. He now argues that the D composition started with the story of Moses and did not include the Genesis traditions.14 And even among scholars who do not agree with the idea of P as the first document to link Patriarchs and Exodus there is a growing tendency to consider this link as not original and ‘late’.15 The present debate on the Yahwist and the link between Patriarchs and Exodus clearly reveals that it is very difficult to maintain the idea of a pre-priestly document which would have constituted a kind of Proto-Pentateuch, comprising all of its major themes. Should one therefore return to Martin Noth’s claim that Pg (the first edition of the Priestly document) constitutes the skeleton of the Pentateuch?16 But this statement also raises a number of problems. 3. The Problem of a Priestly Pentateuch For Noth and many other scholars there was no doubt that P ended in Deut 34.1aa . . . 7–9.17 Nevertheless, this opinion does not match
14 E. Blum, ‘Die literarische Verbindung von Erzvätern und Exodus: Ein Gespräch mit neueren Forschungshypothesen’, in J. C. Gertz, K. Schmid and M. Witte (eds.), Abschied vom Jahwisten: Die Komposition des Hexateuch in der jüngsten Diskussion (BZAW, 315; Berlin: W. de Gruyter, 2002), pp. 119–56. 15 See for instance D. M. Carr, ‘Genesis in Relation to the Moses Story: Diachronic and Synchronic Perspectives’, in A. Wénin (ed.), Studies in the Book of Genesis: Literature, Redaction and History (BETL, 155; Leuven: Peeters and Leuven University Press, 2001), pp. 273–95; W. Johnstone, ‘The Use of Reminiscences in Deuteronomy in Recovering the Two Main Literary Phases in the Production of the Pentateuch’, in Gertz, Abschied vom Jahwisten, pp. 247–73; R. Albertz, Israel in Exile: The History and Literature of the Sixth Century B.C.E. (trans. D. E. Green; Studies in Biblical Literature, 3; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003); E. Aurelius, Zukunft jenseits des Gerichts: Eine redaktionsgeschichtliche Studie zum Enneateuch (BZAW, 319; Berlin: W. de Gruyter, 2003). 16 M. Noth, A History of Pentateuchal Traditions (trans. B. W. Anderson; Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1972; repr.: Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1981). For a recent defence of Noth’s position with some modifications see C. Frevel, Mit Blick auf das Land die Schöpfung erinnern: zum Ende der Priestergrundschrift (Herders Biblische Studien, 23; Freiburg: Herder, 1999). 17 Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, pp. 16–19. According to Noth, the redactor omitted P’s report of Moses’ death because he wanted to keep the older account in vv. 4–6*.
424
thomas christian römer
the function and the style of these verses. The emphasis on Joshua as Moses’ successor does not sound like a conclusion, but an indication that the story will move on to the conquest. As to the vocabulary and expressions of 34.7–9, Lothar Perlitt has convincingly shown that these verses cannot be attributed to the original priestly document; they reveal a mixture of priestly and deuteronomistic expressions and conceptions, which can be found in the latest layers of the Pentateuch.18 If Pg cannot be detected in Deuteronomy 34, where did it end? Some scholars try to rehabilitate the idea that the priestly document did cover a Hexateuchal narrative and postulate its ending either in Josh 18.1 (‘the whole congregation of the Israelites assembled at Shiloh, and set up the tent of meeting there. The land lay subdued before them’) or in 19.51 (‘. . . So they finished dividing the land’).19 It is often argued that such a conclusion would buttress the fulfilment of P’s presentation of God’s initial order to mankind in Gen 1.28 (to subdue the earth). But Gen 1.28 is directed to humanity in its entirety and has nothing to do with Israel’s occupation of the land20 and P’s presentation of God’s revelation in three steps (elohim for all mankind, el shadday for Abraham’s descendants, and yhwh for Israel whose mediator is Moses) clearly shows that Pg’s main interest resides
18 L. Perlitt, ‘Priesterschrift im Deuteronomium?’, ZAW 100 (Supplement 1988), pp. 65–88 = Deuteronomium-Studien (FAT, 8; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1994), pp. 123–43; see also P. Stoellger, ‘Deuteronomium 34 ohne Priesterschrift’, ZAW 105 (1993), pp. 26–51. 19 See Seebass, ‘Pentateuch’, p. 192; E. A. Knauf, ‘Die Priesterschrift und die Geschichten der Deuteronomisten’, in T. Römer (ed.), The Future of the Deuteronomistic History (BETL, 147; Leuven: Peeters and Leuven University Press, 2000), pp. 101–18; N. Lohfink, ‘The Priestly Narrative and History’, in N. Lohfink, Theology of the Pentateuch: Themes of the Priestly Narrative and Deuteronomy (trans. L. M. Maloney; Edinburgh: T&T Clark; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1994), pp. 136–72; J. Blenkinsopp, The Pentateuch: An Introduction to the First Five Books of the Bible (ABRL; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1992), p. 237. 20 According to Pg, the initial order of Gen 1.28 is perverted in Gen 6.11–12 and restored in a modified way after the Flood. One should also underline that the root kb“ (niphal) also occurs in Num 32.22, 29 (in the same way as in Josh 18.1) but the verses in Numbers are commonly considered post-P. So it would be better to ascribe Josh 18.1 to the same late redactional level (see for instance R. Achenbach, Die Vollendung der Tora: Studien zur Redaktionsgeschichte des Numeribuches im Kontext von Hexateuch und Pentateuch [Beihefte der Zeitschrift für altorientalische und biblische Rechtsgeschichte, 3; Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 2003], p. 386).
israel’s sojourn in the wilderness
425
in God’s revelation to his people and not in Israel’s occupation of the land.21 If neither Deuteronomy 34 nor the end of Joshua offers a comprehensive conclusion for Pg, the end of the original priestly writing must be looked for somewhere earlier. The book of Numbers can easily be excluded:22 the so-called priestly texts of this book differ in style and ideology from those commonly ascribed to the original priestly document: the rebellion stories conflict with the priestly anthropology according to which human beings cannot act against the divine will; the presentation of Israel as an ecclesia militans does not fit well with the so-called pacifism of P.23 Given the fact that there are no clear traces of Pg in the book of Numbers its conclusion should be located in God’s revelation to Israel on Mount Sinai. Thomas Pola put this idea forward;24 he reconstructed the final scene of the priestly document in Exod 40.16–17a, 33b. Even if one may question Pola’s literary-critical operations on the Sinai-pericope,25 his idea that Yhwh’s dwelling in his mobile sanctuary is a fitting conclusion is now accepted by a growing number of scholars, even if there are some discrepancies as to the exact ending of Pg.26 Indeed, Exodus 40 constitutes a convincing
21 R. W. Klein, ‘The Message of P’, in J. Jeremias and L. Perlitt (eds.), Die Botschaft und die Boten: Festschrift für Hans Walter Wolff zum 70. Geburtstag (NeukirchenVluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1981), pp. 57–66; M. Köckert, ‘Das Land in der priesterlichen Komposition des Pentateuch’, in D. Vieweger and E.-J. Waschke (eds.), Von Gott reden: Beiträge zur Theologie und Exegese des Alten Testaments: Festschrift für Siegfried Wagner zum 65. Geburtstag (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1995), pp. 147–62; M. Bauks, ‘“Une histoire sans fin”: L’impasse herméneutique de la notion de pays dans œuvre sacerdotale (Pg)’, ETR 78 (2003), pp. 255–68. 22 Some scholars nevertheless try to discover P’s end in Numbers. Ska ( J.-L. Ska, Introduction à la lecture du Pentateuque. Clés pour l’interprétation des cinq premiers livres de la Bible [Le livre et le rouleau, 5; Bruxelles: Lessius, 2000], pp. 210–15) and García López (F. García López, El Pentateuco. Introducción a la lectura de los cinco primeros libros de la Biblia [Introducción al estudio de la Biblia, 3a; Estella: Verbo Divino, 2003], pp. 332–33) postulate Numbers 27; but may the announcement of Moses’ death and the installation of Joshua as his successor be considered as a fitting end? 23 See on this point E. Aurelius, Der Fürbitter Israels: Eine Studie zum Mosebild im Alten Testament (ConBOT, 27; Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1988), pp. 187–202. 24 T. Pola, Die ursprüngliche Priesterschrift: Beobachtungen zur Literarkritik und Traditionsgeschichte von P g (WMANT, 70; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1995). 25 Pola only considers about two (!) percent of the present text of Exodus 25–40 as belonging to Pg, which seems quite implausible. 26 According to E. Otto, P g ended at Exod 29.42b–46 (‘Forschungen zur Priesterschrift’, TRu 62 [1997], pp. 1–50); for Exod 40.34b as an ending see
426
thomas christian römer
ending of the priestly story that started in Genesis 1:27 that the creation and construction of a sanctuary belong together is attested in Near-eastern parallels,28 and the installation of Israel’s cult is certainly a main concern of P. One may ask if, in this case, the consecration of Israel’s first priests in Lev 9.23–24 would not even be a better ending,29 but for our present purposes this debate may be left open. The consequence of the current trend of Pentateuchal research is therefore that neither the so-called Yahwist nor the original Priestly document contains a narrative strand that comprises the whole Pentateuch (or Hexateuch). On the one hand there is a priestly ‘Tritoteuch’, which covers the narrative from creation of the world to the installation of Israel’s worship; on the other hand we have the book of Deuteronomy, which is closely related in style and ideology to the Former Prophets, either as a prologue of a ‘Deuteronomistic History’ or for having underwent analogue deuteronomistic redactions as the books of Joshua to Kings.30
M. Bauks, ‘La signification de l’espace et du temps dans “l’historiographie sacerdotale”’, in Römer, The Future of the Deuteronomistic History, pp. 29–45; C. Levin, Das Alte Testament (C. H. Beck Wissen in der Beck’shen Reihe, 2160; Munich: C. H. Beck, 2001), p. 80; and Kratz, Komposition, p. 108. 27 See Blenkinsopp, Pentateuch, p. 218, for parallels between Gen 1.1//Exod 39.43; Gen 2.1//Exod 39.43; Gen 2.2//Exod 40.33; Gen 2.3//Exod 39.43. 28 M. Weinfeld, ‘Sabbath, Temple and the Enthronement of the Lord – The Problem of the Sitz im Leben of Genesis 1:1–2:3’, in A. Caquot and M. Delcor (eds.), Mélanges bibliques et orientaux en l’honneur de M. Henri Cazelles (AOAT, 212; Kevelaer: Butzon & Bercker; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1981), pp. 501–12. 29 This solution is advocated by E. Zenger, ‘Priesterschrift’, TRE 27:435–46. The problem with this solution is that Lev 9.23 presupposes Exod 40.35a, which is often considered an interpolation. Maybe one could follow Kratz, Komposition, p. 116, who argues that most texts in Leviticus 1–16* were added to P before P was combined with the other textual traditions. For Leviticus 16 as a possible end of Pg see now C. Nihan, ‘From Priestly Torah to Pentateuch’ (ThD thesis, University of Lausanne, to be published in FAT). 30 I cannot take up, in this context, the debate of the existence of the so-called Deuteronomistic History. Even if it has become fashionable to deny the existence of such a construct, there is in my view no better explanation for the fact that the books from Deuteronomy to Kings all underwent (in several stages) deuteronomistic redactions; see T. Römer, ‘The Form-Critical Problem of the So-Called Deuteronomistic History’, in M. A. Sweeney and E. Ben Zvi (eds.), The Changing Face of Form Criticism for the Twenty-First Century (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), pp. 240–52. For the opposite view, see especially A. G. Auld, ‘The Deuteronomists and the Former Prophets, or What Makes the Former Prophets Deuteronomistic?’, in L. S. Schearing and S. L. McKenzie (eds.), Those Elusive Deuteronomists: The Phenomenon of PanDeuteronomism ( JSOTSup, 268; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), pp. 116–26.
israel’s sojourn in the wilderness
427
This brings us to the book of Numbers, which is the least easily characterised of the five books of the Torah. There is no trouble in indicating the structure and the arrangement of the books of Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus and Deuteronomy. But if one tries to do the same with Numbers the task is more difficult; Numbers is indeed the only book of the Pentateuch where commentators need several pages to justify their idea of the structure of the book and to refute others. Numbers apparently has no obvious arrangement; this may be explained by the fact that Numbers was the last book of the Torah, which came into existence at a time when Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus on the one hand and Deuteronomy on the other hand were already shaped. This means that the book of Numbers was created to integrate the latest texts of the Torah. The redactional model explaining the formation of the book of Numbers may therefore be different from those applied to the other books of the Pentateuch. Before sketching some preliminary thoughts about the formation of Numbers in regard to the wilderness traditions, some further indications on the proto-midrashic31 character of the book seem to be appropriate. 4. The Book of Numbers as a Forerunner of Midrashic Literature Martin Noth made two important statements on the book of Numbers. The first is the oft quoted observation in the introduction of his commentary on Numbers: Were we to ‘take the book of Numbers on its own, then we would think not so much of “continuous sources” as of an unsystematic collection of innumerable pieces of tradition of very varied content’.32 The second statement is the assertion that almost all texts in Numbers 27–36 are post-priestly texts, added
31 I am aware of the often unreflective use of ‘midrashic’ by biblical scholars. It is certainly right that this term should be limited to rabbinical literature and not be used as a fancy term for ‘interpretation’. Nevertheless, I am quite convinced that the construction of Numbers foreshadows in a certain way the latter idea of ‘oral Torah’. See now T. H. Lim, ‘The Origins and Emergence of Midrash in Relation to the Hebrew Scriptures’, in J. Neusner and A. J. Avery-Peck (eds.), Encyclopedia of Midrash: Biblical Interpretation in Formative Judaism (Leiden: Brill, 2005), pp. 595–612. Therefore I feel authorised to speak about ‘proto-midrashic’ writing in relation to the book of Number. 32 M. Noth, Numbers: A Commentary (trans. J. D. Martin; OTL; Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1968), p. 4.
thomas christian römer
428
successively one after the other.33 This idea of a rolling corpus, which is characterised by the observation that pre-existing texts or traditions trigger exegesis or commentary, advocated by William McKane to explain the formation of the book of Jeremiah,34 may also apply to other parts of the book of Numbers. First of all it is interesting to look at the opening and the conclusion of Numbers and to compare these with the opening and concluding verses of Leviticus: Lev 1.1:
‘He called Moses. Yhwh spoke to him from the tent of meeting, saying’. Lev 27.34: ‘These are the commandments that Yhwh commanded to Moses for the Israelites on Mount Sinai’. Num 1.1: ‘Yhwh spoke to Moses in the desert of Sinai, in the tent of meeting . . . saying’. Num 36.12: ‘These are the commandments and the ordinances that Yhwh commanded through Moses to the Israelites in the plains of Moab by the Jordan at Jericho’.
Numbers 1.1 clearly takes up the beginning and ending of Leviticus, nevertheless introducing an important difference:35 the commandments in Numbers are revealed no longer on Mount Sinai, but in the desert of Sinai. This is a hint that the editors of Numbers understood the laws in Numbers as not having directly emerged from God’s revelation on Mount Sinai, but as supplements given later, still in relation with ‘Sinai’ but located in the ‘desert’ and not on Yhwh’s mountain. Is there a better way to indicate that the laws collected in Numbers are supplements to the ‘original’ priestly and deuteronomistic revelation of the Law? A short overview of Numbers 1–10 confirms this observation. Most of the prescriptions in these chapters would have better fit into the books of Exodus, Leviticus instead of Deuteronomy; apparently it was impossible to interpolate them in these books, which were already more or less closed to important additions. The ordeal in Numbers
33 Noth, Numbers, p. 8; see already M. Noth, Überlieferungsgeschichtliche Studien: Die sammelnden und bearbeitenden Geschichtswerke im Alten Testament (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgessellschaft, 3rd edn, 1967), pp. 192–217. 34 W. McKane, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Jeremiah (ICC; 2 vols; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1986, 1996), 1:l–lxxxiii. 35 See also D. T. Olson, The Death of the Old and the Birth of the New: The Framework of the Book of Numbers and the Pentateuch (BJS, 71; Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1985), p. 49.
israel’s sojourn in the wilderness
429
5 would better stand together with the laws on adultery in Deut 22.13–15; the law on the Nazirite in Numbers 6 is a general supplement, since Nazirites appear in the Former and Later Prophets ( Judg 13.5, 7; 16.17; 1 Sam 1.22 [4QSama]; Amos 2.12), but their ‘legal situation’ is not clarified elsewhere; Numbers 7 contains a supplement to the inauguration of the sanctuary, which relates to the end of Exodus (Num 7.1 even contains an explicit reference to Exodus 40). The prescriptions for the lamp in Num 8.1–4 would stand better after Exod 25.13–15 or 37.12–14. The consecration of the Levites in Num 8.5–7 was apparently written as a supplement to Leviticus 8–9. Numbers 9 contains additional prescriptions for the celebration of Passover, which clarify the prescriptions of Exodus 12. The same holds true for the prescriptions at the end of the book. Numbers 27 openly states that a certain number of problems linked to the question of heritage are not yet resolved by the existing laws. Interestingly, the final chapter of Numbers (36) adds a supplement and commentary to Numbers 27 (!). The laws about offerings for daily use and on the occasion of festivals (Numbers 28–29) supplement the prescriptions of Leviticus 23.36 The regulations concerning vows in Numbers 30 should be understood as actualisation of Deut 23.22–24. The war against the Midianites in Numbers 31 is clearly inspired by the foregoing chapters 22–25, and may also be conceived as antipode to Saul’s failure in 1 Samuel 15.37 The geographical chapters Numbers 32 and 34–35 have parallels in the book of Joshua; they were possibly taken over from Joshua when the final decision for a Pentateuch (against the alternative Hexateuch) was taken.38
36 This was already observed by Kuenen, who argued that these chapters are at the wrong place: they should belong after Leviticus 23, see A. Kuenen, A HistoricalCritical Inquiry into the Origin and Composition of the Hexateuch (trans. P. H. Wicksteed; London: Macmillan, 1886), p. 99. 37 For 1 Samuel 15 as source text for Numbers 31 see E. A. Knauf, Midian: Untersuchungen zur Geschichte Palästinas und Nordarabiens am Ende des 2. Jahrtausends v. Chr (Abhandlungen des Deutschen Palästinavereins; Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1988), p. 167. The influence of the book of Samuel on Numbers is emphasised by A. G. Auld, ‘Samuel, Numbers, and the Yahwist-Question’, in Gertz, Abschied vom Jahwisten, pp. 233–46. 38 Numbers 32//Joshua 13; Numbers 34//Joshua 15; Numbers 35//Joshua 21. Achenbach, Vollendung, pp. 557–59 attributes the texts in Numbers to theocratic redactors located in the fourth century bce. For the alternative Pentateuch versus Hexateuch in the Persian period see T. Römer and M. Z. Brettler, ‘Deuteronomy 34 and the Case for a Persian Hexateuch’, JBL 119 (2000), pp. 401–19.
430
thomas christian römer
The introductory and concluding chapters of Numbers can therefore plausibly be understood as belonging to the very latest texts of the Torah. The same is true for the narrative kernel of the book, especially the theme of never ending rebellions in the wilderness. We will attempt to demonstrate this in what follows. 5. The Origins of the Wilderness Tradition Outside the Pentateuch, Israel’s sojourn in the desert is mentioned in some ‘historical’ Psalms and summaries (especially Josh 24.7; Neh 9.19–21; Pss 78.15–41; 95.8–11; 105.40–41; 106.13–1539) as well as in some prophetic books (especially Hosea, Amos, Jeremiah, Second Isaiah, Ezekiel). The oldest allusions to the wilderness tradition can possibly be found in Hosea, notwithstanding the complicated history of redaction which this book underwent.40 Hosea 9.10 states that Yhwh did find Israel in the wilderness, like grapes or the first fruit on a fig tree. This image clearly evokes a positive relation between Yhwh and Israel’s fathers in the wilderness. The problems arose, according to this text, only after Israel entered the cultivated land in Baal-Peor. In a quite similar way, Hos 2.16–17, which belongs to a later redactional stage of the book, announces Israel’s restoration with the idea of a return to the desert. Here again the desert symbolises the positive beginnings of Israel’s election by Yhwh. A similar vision appears in Jer 2.1–3. This oracle, at the onset of the collection of Jeremiah 2–6, describes the desert time as an experience of taintless love: ‘Thus says Yhwh: I remember the affection of your youth, your love as a bride, how you followed me in the
39 For these psalms see A. H. W. Curtis, ‘La mosaïque de l’histoire d’Israël: Quelques considérations sur les allusions “historiques” dans les Psaumes’, in D. Marguerat and A. H. W. Curtis (eds.), Intertextualités: La Bible en échos (MdB, 40; Genève: Labor et Fides, 2000), pp. 13–29. Curtis also mentions Pss 135.10–11 and 136.16–20 as containing allusions to Israel’s sojourn in the wilderness. Interestingly, these texts mention Israel’s victory over the Transjordanian kings without a foregoing period of life in the desert. 40 See for instance A. A. Macintosh, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Hosea. (ICC; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1997) and the presentation of recent research in S. Rudnig-Zelt, ‘Die Genese des Hoseabuches: Ein Forschungsbericht’, in K. Kiesow and T. Meurer (eds.), Textarbeit: Studien zu Texten und ihrer Rezeption aus dem Alten Testament und der Umwelt Israels: Festschrift für Peter Weimar zur Vollendung seines 60. Lebensjahres (AOAT, 294; Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2003), pp. 351–86.
israel’s sojourn in the wilderness
431
wilderness, in an uncultivated land’ (2.2). Robert Carroll perfectly summed up the ideology of this verse with the following statement: ‘The honeymoon was wonderful but the marriage—a complete failure!’41 These texts clearly indicate that the original tradition of Israel’s sojourn in the desert was a positive tradition.42 The desert appeared as the theatre for the first encounter between Yhwh and Israel. The authors of the quoted texts in Hosea and Jeremiah do not refer to the wilderness traditions of the Torah, as it is often argued. The contrary may be the case: the wilderness stories in Exodus and especially in Numbers should be understood as reinterpretations of a former positive tradition.43 Such a reinterpretation can be detected in the first wilderness stories of the book of Exodus. 6. From Manna to Complaint and Rebellion (Exodus 16) Exodus 16 relates the discovery of the manna, which coincides with the discovery of the Sabbath. On the seventh day there is no manna to gather, no work to do. This rhythm that God fixed during the creation, according to Gen 2.1–3, is revealed, after the exodus, to Israel. This link makes it plausible to consider Exodus 16 (or at least parts of it) as belonging to the priestly document.44 The priestly writer may have taken over an older aetiology of the manna, which hypothetically can be found in 16.1*, 4a, 13b–14ba, 15, 21, 31.45 If one accepts such a reconstruction it appears that this aetiology did not
41
R. P. Carroll, Jeremiah: A Commentary (OTL; London: SCM Press, 1986), p. 119. 42 Amos 5.25 as well as 2.10 were written by a late redactor, as shown by the theme of 40 years. Interestingly even here the wilderness time is not presented in a negative way (on this see M. Álvarez Barredo, Relecturas Deuteronomísticas de Amós, Miqueas y Jeremías [Publicaciones del Instituto Teológico Franciscano, Serie Mayor, 10; Murcia: Editorial Espigas, 1993], p. 74). The assertion that during this time Israel did not offer sacrifices to Yhwh (see also Jer 7.22) is either a reminiscence of the pre-priestly wilderness tradition or polemical against the priestly location of the sacrificial laws into the time of the wilderness. 43 See more details in T. B. Dozeman, ‘Hosea and the Wilderness Wandering Tradition’, in McKenzie and Römer, Rethinking the Foundations, pp. 55–70. 44 See E. Ruprecht, ‘Stellung und Bedeutung der Erzählung vom Mannawunder (Ex 16) im Aufbau der Priesterschrift’, ZAW 86 (1974), pp. 269–307; W. Johnstone, Exodus (OTG; Sheffield: JSOT Press 1990), pp. 82, 110. 45 As suggested by Levin, Jahwist, pp. 77, 352–55.
432
thomas christian römer
contain any mention of a rebellious people. The same absence can be detected in the mention of the manna in Deut 8.3, 16 (here the gift of manna is linked with the idea of a divine pedagogy).46 But even in the priestly version of Exodus 16, there is no rebellion and no divine punishment. P is solely interested in emphasising the importance of the Sabbath for Israel. According to Exod 16.22–24, Moses exhorts the people to make provisions for the seventh day, ‘the holy Sabbath for Yhwh’. When the Sabbath has come, Moses urges the people to eat the provisions, because ‘today you will not find anything in the field’ (vv. 25–26). Nevertheless, according to v. 27, ‘on the seventh day some of the people went out to gather, and they found nothing’. Verse 30 relates the logical consequence: ‘So the people rested on the seventh day’. In the present text this link between verses 27 and 30 is interrupted by the interpolation of v. 28 (and v. 29):47 ‘Yhwh said to Moses: How long will you refuse to keep my commandments and instructions?’. This insertion, which reflects deuteronomistic terminology and concerns, transforms the priestly explanation of the Sabbath into a story of rebellion, as do verses 2–3 and 6–12, which emphasise the complaining of the people against Moses and Aaron and which should be also attributed to later redactors.48 According to this analysis even the original priestly document (which contained approximately Exod 16.1, 4aba, 13b, 15–17, 21–27, 30–31) was unaware of the idea of ongoing rebellion in the wilderness. The priestly writer apparently took over a positive wilderness tradition close to the one attested in Hosea and Jeremiah. This hypothesis gets some further support from the analysis of Exod 15.22–27 undertaken by Erik Aurelius. In its present form this text is clearly the work of a post-priestly49 redactor. According to Aurelius an earlier form of this story, which provided an aetiology
The idea of testing the people also appears in Exod 16.4bb, which is probably a late attempt to harmonise this story with the deuteronomistic conception of the manna. 47 See Ruprecht, ‘Stellung’, pp. 273–74. 48 It is possible that one should distinguish several post-priestly redactions in this chapter. 49 W. Johnstone, ‘From the Sea to the Mountain, Exodus 15,22–19,2: A Case Study in Editorial Techniques’, in M. Vervenne (ed.), Studies in the Book of Exodus: Redaction – Reception – Interpretation: Proceedings of the 44th Colloquium Biblicum Lovaniense (BETL, 126; Leuven: Peeters and Leuven University Press, 1996), pp. 245–63 (250), speaks of a composite text which mixes D- and P-material. 46
israel’s sojourn in the wilderness
433
for Marah, contained only verses 15.22–23 and 27. The interpolation of vv. 24–25a transformed the aetiology into a story of complaints; verses 25b–26 state that Yhwh already gave commandments and instruction before the revelation on Mount Sinai. This interpolation, which has often caused astonishment among scholars, is in fact necessary to prepare the insertion in Exod 16.28 and may well stem from the same redactor. If the original stories in Exod 15.22–24 and Exodus 16 did not contain the topic of complaint and rebellion one may ask if the same should not also be envisaged for Exodus 17. It is quite clear that the complaint story, which concludes in 17.7 with the aetiology of Massa and Meriba, is inserted in an older context, since 17.8 locates the following story again in Rephidim where the people arrived in 17.1.50 The original story would therefore contain a positive account of how Yhwh, after food, provided water in the wilderness (this account can tentatively be reconstructed in 17.1, 3aa, 5–6*). In sum, the few wilderness narratives in the book of Exodus were originally positive accounts of Yhwh’s care for his people in the desert, revealing the same ideology as the allusions to the wilderness in Hosea and Jeremiah. This view is also represented by the priestly document. Post-priestly redactors transformed these positive accounts into stories of a complaining people. The invention of a ‘cycle of rebellion’ in the book of Numbers presupposes this transformation and radicalises the negative view of Israel’s sojourn in the wilderness. 7. The Cycle of Rebellions in Numbers 11–20 It has already been mentioned that the structure of Numbers is a matter of debate.51 Space does not allow me to take up this discussion. It may be enough to keep in mind Olson’s seminal work,52 rightly emphasising that chapters 1 and 26, which relate two censuses of the tribes, organise the book according to the idea of two generations:
50 Johnstone, ‘Sea’, p. 258, is arguing the other way round and asserts that Rephidim in v. 7 must be secondary, because of Massah and Meribah. 51 See especially O. Artus, Etudes sur le livre des Nombres: Récit, Histoire et Loi en Nombres 13,1–20,13 (OBO, 157; Freiburg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1997), pp. 1–40, and W. W. Lee, Punishment and Forgiveness in Israel’s Migratory Campaign (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), pp. 7–46. 52 Olson, Death, pp. 83–128.
434
thomas christian römer
the first which must die in the wilderness and the second which has the possibility to conquer the land. Inside the first part one may distinguish three sections: 1.1–10.36 describing the organisation of the camp and the supplementary prescriptions given before the departure from Sinai; 11.1–20.13 which are situated in the wilderness; 20.14 opens the stories about the occupation of Transjordanian territories. Numbers 25 constitutes an important caesura since Israel’s apostasy at Baal-peor marks the end of the first generation. According to this division the sojourn in the wilderness (11.1–20.13) is almost entirely characterised by stories of ongoing conflicts. One may distinguish seven of those stories. Num 11.1–3 (inspired by Judg 2.6–8, the deuteronomistic introduction of the book of Judges)53 functions as an introduction to the whole cycle suggesting a scheme for the following stories: the people complain; Yhwh becomes angry and dispatches punishment; Moses intervenes and the punishment is attenuated. Let us recall that there is no divine punishment after the complaints of the people that have been inserted in Exodus 15–17 (the first divine punishment occurs in Exodus 32 in the story of the golden calf ). Numbers 11–20 expresses therefore, a more radical view than the wilderness accounts in Exodus. The second story in Num 11.4–35 is more complex as suggested by the introduction in 11.1–3: the story combines the people’s complaint about the manna and Moses’ complaint against Yhwh, whom he accuses for having lain on him the whole weight of the people. At the outcome, the people are punished and Moses discharged. This story clearly presupposes and combines Exodus 16 and 18. The third narrative (Numbers 12) contains a denial of Moses’ authority by Miriam and Aaron, who also criticise him because of his foreign wife; Miriam is punished whereas Moses’ exceptional status is confirmed. The fourth story in Numbers 13–14, which is the pivot of the whole cycle, describes the rebellion of the people against the conquest. The plan to return to Egypt provokes Yhwh’s anger, who decides the total annihilation of the people. It is only because of Moses’ intervention that the punishment is modified: the first generation has to remain in the desert, whereas the second generation gets the chance to conquer the land. Before the fifth narrative, chapter
53 The presentation of the wilderness in Numbers 11–20 presupposes the deuteronomistic book of Judges.
israel’s sojourn in the wilderness
435
15 deals with cultic concerns, as do Numbers 18–19. These three chapters frame the two stories, which are concerned with rebellions against the priestly authority. The narrative in 16.1–17.5 combines rebellions of the different groups (Korah and his band, Dathan and Abiram) who oppose Moses and Aaron, claiming the universal priesthood which Yhwh had promised in Exod 19.3–8. In this story Moses does not prevent Yhwh from achieving his punishment. Korah and his followers perish through fire from heaven, and the Sheol swallows Dathan and Abiram. The sixth story in 17.6–27 is closely related to this account. The people accuse Moses and Aaron of bringing about the divine punishment and criticise the Aaronide priesthood. Again Yhwh’s punishment brings death to an important number of rebels. The seventh narrative in Num 20.1–13, which takes up Exodus 17, opens again with a complaint from the people due to the absence of water; but this time the story explains why Moses and Aaron are excluded from entering into the Promised Land. This story provides an answer to a question that remained open in Numbers 13–14. Even if the reason for the divine punishment remains somewhat obscure, it nevertheless appears that Aaron and Moses have to die outside the land because of an individual fault.54 One may detect a concentric structure in the organisation of these narratives.55 If one excludes the introduction, then 11.4–35 and 20.1–13 are related to each other by the theme of food and beverage; furthermore in both texts Moses is revolting against Yhwh; Numbers 12 deals with the contestation of Moses’ authority whereas Numbers 16–17 reject the denial of Aaron’s authority. Numbers 13–14 appears as the central contestation: here the people indeed reject the whole divine project of the exodus. This deliberate organisation does not mean that all these stories should be attributed to the same authors. As already mentioned,
54 This is a correction of a statement that occurs in Deut 1.37 and 3.36 where Moses is excluded from entering the land because of the fault of the people for whom he is in charge. 55 11.1–3: introduction 11.4–35: food; Moses’ rebellion against Yhwh 12: rebellion against Moses 13–14: rebellion against the exodus 16–17: rebellion against Aaron 20.1–13: beverage; Moses’ (and Aaron’s) rebellion against Yhwh
436
thomas christian römer
Numbers 20 is certainly later than the first version of 13–14, and it has always been noticed that most of the stories have also undergone successive redactions. The task now is to determine the redactional model that applies to these wilderness stories. There is no doubt that all of them are later than the priestly document and the main edition of the Deuteronomistic History, both of which took place during the sixth century bce. Recently Achenbach has argued for a late date of the wilderness narratives in Numbers.56 Following Otto, he attributed most of these texts to two main redactions which edited some older traditions: a Hexateuch-redaction and a Pentateuch-redaction which were supplemented at the end of the fourth century bce by ‘theocratic redactors’. Even though I agree with Achenbach on the late date of the material in Numbers, I am less convinced that one should analyse the whole book with the idea of two thoroughgoing redactions. We mentioned already Noth’s insight that the formation of Numbers 27–36 is best explained by successive supplementation; this idea may also apply, at least partially, to Numbers 11–20. An analysis of Numbers 11–12 points in the direction of a ‘rolling corpus’.57 8. Numbers 11–12 and the Idea of a ‘Rolling Corpus’ Numbers 11.4–35 is a composite text, which combines the complaint of the people about the manna and a complaint of Moses about his sole responsibility for the people. The people’s complaint has a double achievement. Yhwh sends quail, but the quail cause the death of those who did complain. Moses complaint provokes the gift of Moses’ spirit to 70 representatives of the people who become then ‘prophets like Moses’. Because of this combination of themes, scholars have often tried to isolate two originally separated documents,58
56
Achenbach, Vollendung, passim. What follows sums up and supplements my earlier work on these chapters. See T. Römer, ‘Nombres 11–12 et la question d’une rédaction deutéronomique dans le Pentateuque’, in M. Vervenne and J. Lust (eds.), Deuteronomy and Deuteronomic Literature: Festschrift C. H. W. Brekelmans (BETL, 133; Leuven: Peeters and Leuven University Press, 1997), pp. 481–98, and idem, ‘Das Buch Numeri und das Ende des Jahwisten: Anfragen zur “Quellenscheidung” im vierten Buch des Pentateuch’, in Gertz, Abschied vom Jahwisten, pp. 215–31. 58 See for instance G. B. Gray, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Numbers (ICC; 57
israel’s sojourn in the wilderness
437
but without much success.59 The root "sp, which is the key word of the chapter, occurs in both topics (vv. 4, 16, 22, 24, 30, 32 [twice]) and the quite Pauline opposition between ‘flesh’ and ‘spirit’ also presuppose the combination of the demand of the people and Moses’ complaint.60 The author of Num 11.4–35 offers a re-reading of Exodus 16 and 18 (or Deut 1.9–18) from the perspective of postexilic prophecy. The story displays numerous allusions to prophetic texts from the Persian period. The people’s lament at the beginning of the story: ‘our life is dried up’ takes over a complaint which is quoted in Ezekiel’s vision of the dried bones: ‘They say: our bones are dried up’ (Ezek 37.11). Yhwh’s question to Moses: ‘Is Yhwh’s hand too short?’ (Num 11.23) is the same as in Isa 50.2: ‘Is my hand too short?’ (cf. 59.1). The theme of the gift of the spirit as well as Moses’ wish in 11.29 ‘Would that all of Yhwh’s people were prophets, and that Yhwh would put his spirit on them!’, is also a prominent theme in postexilic prophetic literature (Isa 44.3; 46.3; 63.1161; Ezek 36.37; 37.1–5; 39.29; Joel 3.1). The comparison of Yhwh with a mother, which appears in Moses’ complaint, is also a common feature of Second Isaiah (Isa 42.14; 46.3; 49.19; 66.13). These facts indicate without any doubt that Num 11.4ff. shares a preoccupation of postexilic prophecy. Frank Crüsemann has pointed out that the Torah, as a priestly-deuteronomistic document of compromise, almost excludes prophecy.62 Numbers 11.4–35 is one of the rare texts in which, at the end of the formation of the Pentateuch, some space was given to a prophetic, charismatic voice. For the prophetic author of this story, the desert also foreshadows Yhwh’s final judgement on the rebels. To some degree the divine judgement
Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1912), p. xxxi, and E. W. Davies, Numbers (NCB; London: Marshall Pickering; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), p. 101. 59 On the intentional complexity of the story see also B. D. Sommer, ‘Reflecting on Moses: The Redaction of Numbers 11’, JBL 118 (1999), pp. 601–24. 60 Rua˙ in the sense of ‘spirit’ (and fem.) occurs in the episode of the gift of Moses’ spirit in vv. 17, 25, 26, 29, whereas it occurs in the sense of ‘wind’ (masc.) in the quail story in v. 31. 61 As Auld, ‘Samuel, Numbers, and the Yahwist-Question’, p. 242, n. 30, rightly emphasises, this parallel is especially interesting since it obviously alludes to the time of the wilderness. 62 F. Crüsemann, ‘Le Pentateuque, une Tora: Prolégomènes à l’interprétation de sa forme finale’, in A. de Pury and T. Römer (eds.), Le Pentateuque en question: les origines et la composition des cinq premiers livres de la Bible à la lumière des recherches récentes (MdB, 19; Genève: Labor et Fides, 3rd edn, 2002), pp. 339–60 (357).
438
thomas christian römer
in Numbers 11 comes close to the announcement of Yhwh’s judgement at the end of the book of Isaiah: ‘For by fire will Yhwh execute his judgement, and by his sword all flesh and those slain by Yhwh will be many . . . and they shall go out and look at the dead bodies of the people who have rebelled against me’ (Isa 66.16, 24).63 Besides this transposition of Yhwh’s judgement into the desert, the author of Numbers 11 also emphasises an anti-deuteronomistic view of prophecy. As Graeme Auld has emphasised, the story ‘revisits the theme, explored also (and probably already) in Exodus and Deuteronomy, of devolving some of Moses’ authority on associates’.64 But whereas in Exod 18.13–27 and in Deut 1.9–18 the issue was on sharing jurisprudential responsibility, the theme of Numbers 11 is about ‘democratising’ prophecy. According to the deuteronomistic ideology (taken here in a broad sense), there is a prophetic succession that runs from Moses (who according to Deuteronomy 18 is Israel’s first prophet) to Jeremiah; the succession from Elijah to Elisha insists on the transfer of the prophetic spirit to the next prophet (2 Kgs 2.9, 15–16).65 In the view expressed in Numbers 11 the whole people represented by the 70 elders, is invested with the prophetic spirit, even those who seem to be marginal, such as Eldad and Medad. Against Joshua, who represents in Numbers 11 the (deuteronomistic) orthodox view, Moses himself legitimates prophets who do not depend on him. Such an idea clearly contradicts Deut 18.9–11.66 The idea of the 70 elders is taken over from Exod 24.9–11, a postpriestly and post-deuteronomistic text.67 Whereas in Exodus 24 these ‘privileged’ ones seem to contemplate Yhwh, in Numbers 11 they obtain the privilege of an ongoing prophetic charisma. This was the original idea of Num 11.25, a verse that should be read ‘They did
63 One finds the idea of judgement by fire, which is expressed in Num 11.1, and the insistence on ‘flesh’ as in Num 11.4. Isaiah 66.16 presents some text-critical problems: LXX adds after ni“pàt ‘the whole earth’; BHS suggests that be˙arbô (‘by his sword’) is an error from bà˙ar bà (‘he will examine’). 64 Auld, ‘Samuel, Numbers, and the Yahwist-Question’, p. 240. 65 The author of Numbers 11 was certainly familiar with this story. On the relation between this text and Numbers 11 again see Auld, ‘Samuel, Numbers, and the Yahwist-Question’, pp. 241–42, who further indicates interesting allusions in Numbers 11 to Samuel and also to Isa 11.2. 66 H. Seebass, Numeri (BKAT 4/2.1–5; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2002), p. 52. 67 J.-L. Ska, ‘Le repas d’Ex 24,11’, Bib 74 (1993), pp. 305–27.
israel’s sojourn in the wilderness
439
not stop’ (swp), which was later understood and vocalised as ‘they did not go on’ ( ysp).68 Numbers 11 seems to suggest that Moses has no more privileges than the 70 elders; he is even depicted a little ambiguously. Since he expresses doubts on Yhwh’s ability to provide meat for the people in vv. 11–1569 he resembles a rebellious Job, and apparently accuses Yhwh of wickedness.70 These statements about Moses and a ‘liberated’ prophecy did not encounter general agreement. They even triggered the redaction of Numbers 12 as a response and a correction of the views expressed in Numbers 11. Like Numbers 11, Numbers 12 also combines two types of rebellion: a rebellion against Moses as the unique recipient of Yahweh’s word (vv. 2–9) and a denigration of Moses’ Cushite wife (v. 1 and vv. 10–15). The rebels are Miriam, representing the prophets, and Aaron representing the priests.71 Contrary to Numbers 11, Num 12.6–8 highlights the fact that no human being compares to Moses. He alone sees the temunah of Yhwh, and he stands above all other prophets. This assertion contradicts the idea of Exod 24.9–11 and Num 11.24–30 and goes further than Deut 4.12 and 15; according to these verses the people did not see any temunah of Yhwh during his revelation. Numbers 12.8 separates Moses from the people and brings him into a strong proximity with Yhwh, which is also suggested in Deut 34.10–12 (these verses belong to one of the last redactional layers of the Pentateuch): ‘never since has there arisen a prophet in Israel like Moses, whom Yhwh knew face to face . . .’. Moses’ incomparability is also expressed by Yhwh’s statement that Moses is ‘entrusted with all his house’. Moses is here presented as the ideal king, as shown by parallels from the book of Samuel (esp. 1 Sam 22.14) and Near Eastern royal ideology.72 The assertion made
68
Blum, Studien, p. 80; see also Seebass, Numeri, p. 31. On these verses see especially G. J. Wenham, Numbers: An Introduction & Commentary (TOTC, 4; Downers Grove, IL: Inter-Varsity Press, 1981), p. 108 and W. Riggans, Numbers (DSB; Edinburgh: Saint Andrew Press; Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1983), pp. 90–91. 70 For this understanding of the Tiq. Soph. in v. 15 see Aurelius, Fürbitter, pp. 183–84. 71 Verse 1 and vv. 10–15 suggest that Miriam was the main agent of this second rebellion. 72 On the parallels with Samuel see Auld, ‘Samuel, Numbers, and the Yahwist69
440
thomas christian römer
in Num 12.3 that ‘the man Moses was very humble’ can also be understood as a reaction to the presentation of a somewhat choleric Moses in Num 11.11–15. This defence of Moses’ privileged status was complemented by the defence of mixed marriages.73 The fact that Miriam is punished because of her attack against Moses’ marriage with a Cushite woman reveals an opposition to late deuteronomistic ideology as expressed in Deuteronomy 7, and also in Ezra 9. The author of this story may represent the ideology of a ‘liberal’ Diaspora Judaism,74 which in the Pentateuch is also reflected in the Story of Joseph. Interestingly, this second theme in Numbers 12 not only legitimates marriages with foreign women by a reference to the ‘founder’ of Judaism; it also insists, like the first theme, on Moses superiority to all other mediators. In vv. 10–15, while Aaron is able to diagnose Miriam’s disease,75 he is unable to indicate any remedy. He must refer to Moses who intercedes on Miriam’s behalf and announces the quarantine to be respected, which is normally done by the priest. In sum, Numbers 12 presents Moses as the incomparable mediator between Yhwh and Israel to whom the priestly as well as the prophetic functions are clearly subordinated. The author of Numbers 12 tries to correct ideas expressed in Numbers 11, by responding directly to the main assertions of the foregoing chapter. Therefore, it seems impossible to imagine the same redactional level for both chapters although this is done quite often. The fact that Numbers 12 should be understood as a Fortschreibung of Numbers 11 does not mean that the following chapters are necessarily later. The redaction
Question’, pp. 243–44; on the Near Eastern context see C. Uehlinger, ‘“Hat YHWH denn wirklich nur mit Mose geredet?”: Biblische Exegese zwischen Religionsgeschichte und Theologie, am Beispiel von Num 12’, BZ 47 (2003), pp. 230–59. In the Deuteronomistic History, the title ‘Yhwh’s servant’ is used mainly for Moses and David. Num 12.7 can also be understood as a positive resumption of Num 11.11. 73 In ‘Nombres 11–12’ I argued that v. 1 and vv. 10–15 were added by a later redactor. The introduction of the original story in vv. 2–9 would then have been lost or reworked by the later redactor. I concede that it is also possible to imagine that one late author linked both themes, as argued by U. Rapp, Mirjam: Eine feministisch-rhetorische Lektüre der Mirjamtexte in der hebräischen Bibel (BZAW, 317; Berlin: W. de Gruyter, 2002). 74 B. J. Diebner, ‘“For he had married a Cushite woman” (Num 12,1)’, Nubica 1/2 (1990), pp. 499–504 thinks that the text may reflect the revendications of the Jews from Elephantine. 75 Numbers 12 seems to presuppose Leviticus 13–14.
israel’s sojourn in the wilderness
441
of Numbers cannot be explained by the simple idea of a continuous process of addition of chapters. At the present stage of investigation it is impossible to present a comprehensive model for the whole book.76 In the following paragraph I simply try to present, very speculatively, some provisional ideas about the formation of Numbers 11–20. 9. Some Speculations about the Formation of Numbers 11–20 If one looks at Deuteronomy 1–3, the only rebellion story mentioned in the wilderness is the refusal to conquer the land. Deuteronomy 1.9–40*, which was probably written before the first edition of Numbers 13–14,77 is apparently based on an older spy story, which cannot be reconstructed in its original form.78 This spy story originated in a negative way, perhaps as a reworking of Josh 7.2–5 and 18.3–10,79 in order to demonstrate (as also does the author of Ezekiel 20) that the first conquest of the land had to fail because of the ancestors’ stubbornness. In Deuteronomy 1–3, the spy story is immediately followed by narratives about Israel’s entry into the Transjordanian territories. This might be an indication that the story behind Numbers 13–14* was originally conceived as an introduction to the Transjordanian campaign and only later became the kernel of a ‘rebellion cycle’. The ‘prophetic’ text of Num 11.4–35 may perhaps be linked with Num 20.1–13*. Both accounts take over stories from the book of Exodus. As in Numbers 11, Moses also appears in Numbers 20 in a rather ambiguous way. The explanation that Yhwh denied Moses
76 The recent work of Achenbach is, as already mentioned, very impressive, but in my view one should allow for more complexity; one should equally insist on the specificity of Numbers compared to the other books of the Pentateuch. For another recent hypothesis see W. Johnstone, ‘Recounting the Tetrateuch’, in A. D. H. Mayes and R. B. Salters (eds.), Covenant as Context: Essays in Honour of E. W. Nicholson (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), pp. 209–34. 77 Deuteronomy 1 does not know of any intercession of Moses; for more arguments for the anteriority of Deuteronomy 1 see Blum, Studien, pp. 177–81. 78 See the recent tentative proposals of Otto, Deuteronomium, pp. 26–86 and R. Achenbach, ‘Die Erzählung von der gescheiterten Landnahme von Kadesch Barnea (Numeri 13–14) als Schlüsseltext der Redaktionsgeschichte des Pentateuchs’, ZABR 9 (2003), pp. 56–123. Both obtain fragments, but not a continuous story. 79 The author of the original spy story probably also knew a tradition about the clan of Caleb.
442
thomas christian römer
and Aaron entrance into the land because of their disobedience to a divine order answers a question left open by Numbers 13–14 and meets an important concern of postexilic prophecy; namely, the insistence on individual responsibility (Ezekiel 18; Jer 31.29–30). According to our interpretation, the priestly class as represented by Aaron, is subordinated to Moses in Numbers 12. Numbers 16–17 could then roughly80 be understood as a reaction to Numbers 12, as an attempt to enhance the status of the Aaronide priesthood. Numbers 17 is also related to Leviticus 10, underlining, despite the fault of Aaron’s sons, the holiness of the Aaronides. The rebellion of Dathan and Abiram from the tribe of Ruben could be read as an interpretation of the Transjordanian conquest, as an attempt to explain why (according to the deuteronomistic perspective) these territories are not part of the Promised land.81 Given the above considerations it is possible to imagine the growth of Numbers 11–20 in the following way: (1) Numbers 13–14; (2) Num 11.4–35 and 20.1–13. Here we encounter for the first time the idea of a wilderness time characterised by rebellions of Israel and its leaders. This stage possibly coincides with the transformation of Exodus 15–17 into rebellion accounts; (3) Num 12.2–9 and 12.1, 10–15. Perhaps, the author of these stories also created Num 11.1–3 as an introduction, which like Numbers 12 but against 11.4–35, insists on Moses’ intercession. The same author might perhaps also be detected in Num 21.4–9 (the story of the snake plague): here again Moses and Yhwh are almost presented as a ‘couple’ (see esp. Num 21.5, 7: ‘the people came to Moses and said, “We have sinned by speaking against Yhwh and against you . . .”’) and again all depends on Moses’ intercession;82 (4) Numbers 16–17, in several stages and probably together with Numbers 15 and 18–19. All these stages belong to the Persian period. The authors or redactors (it is sometimes not easy to decide which expression fits better) of Numbers 11–20 use the sojourn in the desert as a pretext to sit-
80
There is no doubt that Numbers 16–17 has grown in two or three stages. According to U. Schorn, ‘Rubeniten als exemplarische Aufrührer in Num 16–17*/Deut 11’, in McKenzie and Römer, Rethinking the Foundations, pp. 251–68, the texts about Datan and Abiram are altogether very late, post-deuteronomistic and post-priestly. 82 That Num 21.4–9 belongs to the very last layers of the Pentateuch is convincingly argued by Aurelius, Fürbitter, p. 152. 81
israel’s sojourn in the wilderness
443
uate their own claims. As argued previously, the time in the desert was also extended because the foregoing books, as well as Deuteronomy, were more or less closed when the book of Numbers started to grow. Despite their ideological differences, all texts in Numbers 11–20 agree on the idea that Israel’s sojourn in the wilderness was a time of ongoing rebellions and conflicts. In this sense Mary Douglas is certainly right when she claims that the book of ‘Numbers complements the other books [of the Pentateuch] by presenting a coherent mythic background for Judah’s political situation after the exile’.83 In the Deuteronomistic History, Israel’s rebellion that led to destruction and exile mainly started after the conquest (see for instance 2 Kings 17); for the book of Numbers there was already continuous rebellion before the entry into the land. This is perhaps linked to the fact that when Deuteronomy was cut off from the following books, the so-called Deuteronomistic History came to stand outside of the ‘Torah’. Since ‘exile’ (in a mythical sense) and life outside the land had become important aspects of the ‘Jewish identity’ which originated during the Persian period, there was the need to strengthen life outside the land in the Pentateuch and to foreshadow the divine judgement, which was necessary for the ‘new identity’ of Israel. And this was the origin of the book of Numbers. 10. Some Concluding Remarks and an Invitation to an Ongoing Debate ‘Israel’s sojourn in the wilderness’ was not one of the traditional themes which gave rise to the Pentateuch. On the contrary, the idea of a long period characterised by numerous conflicts and rebellions is a late invention, linked with the creation of the book of Numbers. The present debate about the formation of the Pentateuch has shown that it has become very difficult to postulate a Yahwist, or a D-composition, or even a P-document that would have covered the totality of the present narrative structure of the Pentateuch. The idea of the Torah as a compromise between a priestly and a ‘deuteronomistic’ group still remains a valuable thesis. But this compromise
83 M. Douglas, In the Wilderness: The Doctrine of Defilement in the Book of Numbers ( JSOTSup, 158; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1993), p. 98.
444
thomas christian römer
started perhaps in other ways than often argued. To my mind there was a confrontation between a priestly document comprising Genesis–Leviticus84 and the Deuteronomistic History. At a first stage, there was agreement to separate Deuteronomy from the following books. As a matter of pure speculation one could even imagine that Deuteronomy was first attached at the end of Leviticus. This would present at least a quite smooth transition, which avoids some ‘doublets’ between Numbers and Deuteronomy. The fact that the first and the last parts of Numbers contain laws and other texts, which would have fit better in Exodus, Leviticus or Deuteronomy indicates that the scroll of Numbers was created at the very end of the process of canonisation of the Torah when the need was felt to integrate some new laws and also narratives. If this idea has some pertinence it would have a double consequence. First, one should ask if there is any need that one model should apply for the formation of all books of the Pentateuch. Deuteronomy, for instance, is best explained by the model of successive redactions, whereas Exodus 1–15 suggests the model of two independent accounts that were later combined. Numbers, I have argued, needs the model of a rolling corpus combined with the search for ‘final’ redactors of the Pentateuch. Second, we probably need to reinvestigate the commonly shared assumption that the separation of the Torah into five books happened at the very end of its formation. Each book of the Torah, Numbers excepted, has its specific profile, which is not just due to the opening and concluding verses. Therefore one should allow for the idea that books such as Genesis85 or Deuteronomy did circulate as independent scrolls before becoming part of the Torah, as Joseph Blenkinsopp has rightly emphasised: ‘Since we do not know the circumstances in which any of the biblical books, including the Pentateuch, were first written, we cannot
84 One should also recall the testimony of Hecateus of Abdera, who seems to refer to a ‘Torah’ that possibly ended with Lev 27.34. See for instance L. L. Grabbe, ‘Jewish Historiography and Scripture in the Hellenistic Period’, in L. L. Grabbe (ed.), Did Moses Speak Attic? Jewish Historiography and Scripture in the Hellenistic Period ( JSOTSup, 317; European Seminar in Historical Methodology, 3; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001), pp. 129–55 (131–33). 85 The organisational technique of the toledot is limited to the book of Genesis. This may indicate that the priestly authors or redactors themselves wanted to underline the specific character of this book, even if they saw it as the first part of a history which continued in Exodus.
israel’s sojourn in the wilderness
445
assume that the Pentateuchal narrative existed in continuous form and was then, for whatever reasons broken up into five sections’.86 This idea would also explain why some parts of the Pentateuch were apparently ‘stable’ earlier than others and why there was a need to create the book of Numbers as a theatre of scribal interpretations and discussions, which will come to their zenith in Mishna and Talmud.
86 Blenkinsopp, Pentateuch, p. 45. For the process of writing and canonisation see especially P. R. Davies, Scribes and Schools: The Canonization of Hebrew Scriptures (Library of Ancient Israel; Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1998) and J. Barton, ‘Canons of the Old Testament’, in A. D. H. Mayes (ed.), Text in Context: Essays by Members of the Society for Old Testament Study (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), pp. 200–22.
THE NOTION OF JERUSALEM AS A HOLY CITY Margreet L. Steiner In 1990 Graeme Auld and I met at the British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem—now the Kenyon Institute—when we both attended the Second International Congress on Biblical Archaeology. On this occasion Graeme invited me to join him in writing a book on Jerusalem for the series ‘Cities in the Biblical World’.1 As biblical scholar and archaeologist we worked together on what turned out to be a very enjoyable project. During our stay in Jerusalem we explored the city and recorded its ancient ruins and monuments. There was more to see. As always I noticed tourists walking around in shorts and undershirts. It was then (and still is) a familiar sight: visitors of the holy places, touring the city showing a lot of naked flesh. And as usual I was a little shocked, not because I found it inherently bad or indecent, but because it was disrespectful. Jerusalem was a holy city, and in my perception you simply do not walk around in shorts in a holy city. In my naiveté I had hit upon some fundamental concepts governing the notion of the holy city: it is home to one or more holy places, but not every city with churches or mosques is a holy city. According to a widely used definition: ‘a holy city exists only when in the (literary) traditions of the community some beliefs or rituals can be shown in which there is an obligation to respect the sanctity not only of the shrine itself, but of the whole of the urban space or part of it’.2 This means a (literary) tradition exists that states that the concepts of holiness extend to the whole city. The holiness of
1 A. G. Auld and M. L. Steiner, Jerusalem I: From the Bronze Age to the Maccabees (Cities of the Biblical World; Cambridge: Lutterworth Press; Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1996). 2 K. D. Jenner and G. A. Wiegers, ‘De Heilige Stad als onderzoeksobject in de klassieke en moderne godsdienstwetenschap’, in K. D. Jenner and G. A. Wiegers (eds.), Jeruzalem als heilige stad: religieuze voorstelling en geloofspraktijk (Leidse studiën van de godsdienst; Kampen: Kok Pharos, 1996), pp. 14–28.
448
margreet l. steiner
the main sanctuary flows over to the settlement where it resides, and ceremonial directions apply not only to the shrine or temple, but to the area around it as well. Jerusalem is a holy city, it is said over and over again. A bibliography on Jerusalem containing more than 6,000 titles is not called: ‘Bibliography of Jerusalem’, but ‘The Holy City, a Bibliography’.3 Jerusalem is holy to Jews, Christians and Muslims. But when did the city become holy? When was the first time the inhabitants of the town called their residence ‘holy’? Texts from the Hellenistic period onwards confirm that not only the rebuilt temple was considered ‘holy’ then but the settlement around it as well.4 Was this notion a new inspiration, or was it a continuation of ideas formed in an earlier period? And if the latter is the case, from which period did the notion stem that Jerusalem as a whole was holy? What was the situation in Old Testament times, or more specifically, in the period of the monarchy, the Iron Age? The temple was considered holy, but was the settlement considered holy as well? Basically, my paper focuses on the question whether you could walk around in shorts in Iron Age Jerusalem. Several years ago a book was published in Holland which took up the question of the holiness of Jerusalem (again). The volume was called (in Dutch): Jerusalem as a Holy City.5 In it different views were expressed. Karel van der Toorn compared the position of Jerusalem with that of the Mesopotamian cities.6 He stated that in Sumer every city with a temple dedicated to the city god was ‘holy’ in the sense that it belonged to this god. This holiness distinguished the city (which had a temple) from the surrounding countryside. The same applied to the later Mesopotamian cities, although there was more variety, and besides holy cities there were profane cities. Babylon was holy because Marduk had chosen this city to reside in. According to Van der Toorn the central issue was thus whether an important
3 J. D. Purvis, Jerusalem, The Holy City: A Bibliography (ATLA Bibliography Series, 20; Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press, 1988). 4 D. R. Schwartz, ‘Temple or City: What did Hellenistic Jews see in Jerusalem?’, in M. Poorthuis and Ch. Safrai (eds.), The Centrality of Jerusalem: Historical Perspectives (Kampen: Kok Pharos, 1996), pp. 114–27. 5 Cf. Jenner and Wiegers, Jeruzalem. 6 K. van der Toorn, ‘Een pleisterplaats voor de goden. Het verschijnsel “heilige stad” in het Oude Nabije Oosten’, in Jenner and Wiegers, Jeruzalem, pp. 38–52.
the notion of jerusalem as a holy city
449
deity inhabited the city. According to him Jerusalem can be considered to be a holy city during the Iron Age because the important deity JHWH had his temple there. Van der Toorn found confirmation for this idea in the book of Psalms. So Jerusalem became holy when the temple was built there in the Iron Age. Jan Tromp, however, stated that the idea that the whole city was holy is expressed in the Bible in postexilic sources only—particularly in the book of Isaiah, more specifically in Deutero-Isaiah (Isaiah 40–55), dating from the second half of the sixth century bce.7 Several verses in Isaiah indicate that the holiness of the temple extended over the surrounding area. In Isa 48.1–2 and 52.1 Jerusalem is explicitly called ‘holy city’. According to Tromp this means that the regulations for the temple, which is not to be entered by unauthorised or unclean people, applied to the whole settlement. Thus the idea of the city as holy started to take root in the exilic period and became common in the Persian period. I think that more issues have to be explored before we can answer the question of when Jerusalem became a holy city. F. E. Peters gives a wider definition of a holy city. He states: What constitutes a holy city . . . is the presence in the city of a sacrum, or perhaps several, of such an order of importance or allure that the cultus connected with it exercises an attraction not merely on the city’s immediate hinterland, but over an extended network. Or: the cult centres attract to the city people who would not normally resort there. . . . One may approach the holy city then, as a distinct urban type from either of two directions: from the presence, shape and extent of the ‘pilgrimage network’ from which it draws its extraordinary number of visitors, or more directly from an inspection of what appears to constitute its particular urban morphology.8
In other words: a holy city has a particular urban morphology with an important central sanctuary, and is the centre of an extended pilgrimage network. So, to identify whether Jerusalem was a holy city in the Iron Age we have to analyse not only the literary tradition, but also the centrality of the sanctuary—Jerusalem’s first temple—the existence
7
Joh. Tromp, ‘Jeruzalem als heilige stad in het jodendom van de Perzische, Hellenistische en Romeinse periode’, in Jenner and Wiegers, Jeruzalem, pp. 74–93. 8 F. E. Peters, Jerusalem and Mecca: The Typology of the Holy City in the Near East (New York University Studies in Near Eastern Civilization, 11; New York: New York University Press, 1986), pp. 3–4.
450
margreet l. steiner
of a pilgrimage network, and the morphology, function and centrality of the town during that period. 1. The Temple of Jerusalem The centrality of Jerusalem’s temple is of crucial importance for the question of when Jerusalem became a holy city. When was it built, and when did it become the central sanctuary of ancient Israel? The problem is that archaeologically no trace of this temple has been found. Not one stone or object can be traced back to this edifice, which in literature and tradition has become the most glorious building of ancient times. When the queen of Sheba saw the wonders of Jerusalem, it left her breathless.9 Only one extra-biblical reference to the temple is known from the Iron Age. In ostracon 18 from Arad, dating from ca. 600 bce, the ‘House of JHWH’ is mentioned. Most interpretations and reconstructions of the temple are based on descriptions in the Bible. The dating of its construction ranges from the tenth century bce (‘the time of king David and Solomon’) to the late eighth century bce, when Jerusalem was growing and changing into a large metropolis.10 Notwithstanding the fact that not only the temple but also the figures of David and Solomon are rather elusive outside biblical texts, some arguments can be given for the building of the temple in the beginning of Iron Age II, be it the tenth or ninth century bce. A new town was then built in Jerusalem as the seat of a local ruler (see below). It is very probable that a temple was constructed in this new town. Temples have indeed been found in other regional administrative centres dating to that period, such as Megiddo and Hazor (see below). On the other hand, it is very well possible that the expansion of the town and the growing importance of Jerusalem in the eighth century bce were the incentive for the construction of an important shrine in the town. We simply have no way of establishing a firm date for the construction of the temple. The only certainty is that by the end of the Iron Age Jerusalem had a temple, as evidenced by the Arad ostracon and the persistent biblical tradition.
9
1 Kgs 10.4–7. D. W. Jamieson-Drake, Scribes and Schools in Monarchic Judah: A Socio-Archaeological Approach (SWBA, 9; JSOTSup, 109; Sheffield: Almond Press, 1991). 10
the notion of jerusalem as a holy city
451
How central was Jerusalem’s temple in the Iron Age? In the beginning of Iron Age II it was certainly not the only temple for JHWH in the region. Traces of several other temples or cultic complexes have been found which were large enough to function as city temples.11 In the northern kingdom of Israel the large cult centre of Tel Dan was in use from the tenth until the eighth century bce. A possible temple complex has also been discovered in Hazor, attributed to Stratum XI of the early tenth century bce. Indirect evidence for temples comes from Megiddo, where altar horns made of stone have been found belonging to two large altars and a cult room (room 340), which may have been part of a temple. These finds belong to Strata IV and V dating from the tenth to eighth centuries bce. In Tel Kedesh, a corner of what may have been a temple was excavated, dating to the eighth century bce. One or more temples can also be expected to have existed in Samaria, where according to the prophet Hosea a golden calf was erected,12 and possibly in Bethel.13 In Judah the fortress of Arad housed a temple, in use during the ninth and eighth centuries bce, but this was not a city temple. In Beersheba an altar was found which may be seen as indirect evidence for a temple of the tenth to early eighth centuries bce.14 Of course many more temples may have existed which simply have never been excavated. In conclusion, one can say that in the tenth to eighth centuries bce, before the disastrous Assyrian campaigns against the country, several temple complexes were in use in the main towns of Israel and Judah. Of possibly eight urban temple complexes (in Tel Dan, Hazor, Megiddo, Samaria, Tel Kedesh, Bethel, Beersheba and Jerusalem) only the temple in Jerusalem remained in use during the seventh and early sixth centuries bce. The other temples were either destroyed by the Assyrians or dismantled by the local governments. So it was only in the seventh and sixth centuries bce that the temple
11 In this I follow the terminology of Zevit, who distinguishes between temples and temple complexes on the one hand and cult complexes on the other. The latter are generally smaller and include cult corners at gates and cult rooms inside larger buildings. See Z. Zevit, The Religions of Ancient Israel: A Synthesis of Parallactic Approaches (London: Continuum, 2001), p. 123. 12 Hos 8.5. 13 Amos 7.13–14. 14 For descriptions of the architecture see Zevit, Religions of Ancient Israel, pp. 153–247.
452
margreet l. steiner
in Jerusalem was the central shrine, serving the followers of JHWH in what was left of the state of Judah as well as those living elsewhere in the region. 2. Pilgrimage Network When a sanctuary serves as the central shrine for a large community, regular pilgrimages become an important aspects of the cult of the shrine. A pilgrimage network establishes itself, with public institutions and facilities for the pilgrims: hostels, restaurants, shops, priests and scribes. Archaeological traces of an extended pilgrimage network have not been found in Jerusalem in the later Iron Age. However, some biblical texts do seem to point to the existence of pilgrimages. According to the book of Chronicles it was during the reigns of kings Hezekiah and Josiah that celebrations of Passover, including a pilgrimage to the temple in Jerusalem for ‘all of Israel’, were established.15 Both kings initiated religious reforms, the exact content of which is still being debated, but which included a more intensive concentration of the cult on the temple of Jerusalem. These reforms would thus have taken place at the end of the eight and in the seventh centuries bce. It is good to dwell shortly on the kind of society in which Jerusalem’s temple was functioning. At the end of the Late Bronze Age the great empires of Assyria, Mittani, Egypt and Hatti came to an end, and with them the system of Canaanite city states. Some centuries later extra-biblical texts give evidence of the rise of new polities in what was formerly the Land of Canaan. Along the coast the harbours of Phoenicia and Philistia functioned as ports of trade, while inland several regional states were established. The kingdoms of Israel, Judah, Moab, Ammon and Aram-Damascus were states in their formative stages. These early states did not (yet) show the characteristics of large empires or full-blown states, which functioned as class-based hierarchical societies, with a centralised bureaucracy, standing armies, taxes and laws. Early states are more simply organised.16 There is
15
2 Chronicles 30; 34.29–32; chapter 35. See, for instance, H. J. M. Claessen and P. Skalnik (eds.), The Early State (New Babylon, Studies in the Social Sciences, 32; The Hague: Mouton, 1978). 16
the notion of jerusalem as a holy city
453
no need to elaborate on this question here, except to address two issues. In early states taxes are generally not levied on a regular basis, but only when the sovereign needs an extra ‘cash flow’ to pay tribute or buy off an enemy. And both in early states and in fullblown states, temples were built by the sovereign of the state. In early states, however, these temples did not have a large professional class of priests serving the temple, although some (semi-)professional functionaries may have been attached to the temple. It is the growth of the temple and its importance which gives rise to a class of professional priests, serving in the temple and dependant on the temple for their living. When this happens (and only then), a kind of tax has to be levied to sustain this group. One may expect that in an important central shrine serving a large community, such as the temple of Jerusalem in the seventh century bce, a professional class of priests was functioning. For this group a kind of tax will have been levied. The biblical text may testify to this occurrence: in the book of Chronicles (again) Hezekiah ordered the people of Jerusalem to give part of their agricultural produce, a tithe, to the priests of the temple.17 The term ‘tithe’ is also mentioned elsewhere in the Bible as a tax meant for the priests of the temple.18 Interestingly enough, there may also be archaeological evidence for the levying of this tax. During Kenyon’s excavations a complete ostracon was discovered in the foundation of a house. Its three lines were translated by André Lemaire as:19 two hundred one has counted 18 to give a tithe
As far as I know this is the first occurrence of the term ‘tithe’ in an extra-biblical text, and it dates from the end of the eighth or the beginning of the seventh century bce. (Please note that this tithe is not ten percent, but only nine percent—18 from 200.) With some reservation this find may be considered as indirect evidence for the
17
2 Chron 31.4–12. See, for instance, Lev 27.30–33 and Deut 12.6. 19 A. Lemaire, ‘Les Ostraca Paleo-Hebreux des Fouilles de l’Ophel’, Levant 10 (1978), pp. 156–60. 18
454
margreet l. steiner
levying of taxes for the temple and thus for the existence of a professional class of priests. So at the end of the eighth and in the seventh centuries there is some (with the emphasis on ‘some’) evidence for the characteristics of a holy city like that which Peters mentioned: a central sanctuary serving a large community, the existence of a pilgrimage network and of a primary service industry of professional priests. 3. Centrality of the Town On the morphology, function and status of the town we have much more information. For a recent survey of ideas and opinions on Jerusalem in the Iron Age I refer to the recent volume edited by Vaughn and Killebrew.20 I have extensively published my own analysis of the available archaeological material and so I will only summarise it here.21 In the beginning of Iron Age II, be it the tenth or ninth century bce, a settlement was built on the south-eastern hill of Jerusalem, now called the City of David. There is an ongoing debate concerning whether this settlement was a large fortified town, an unfortified village or a small fortified administrative centre.22 I interpret the archaeological remains as belonging to a small fortified centre. Excavated from that period are the stepped stone structure and a fragment of a casemate wall running north from the stepped stone
20 A. G. Vaughn and A. E. Killebrew (eds.), Jerusalem in Bible and Archaeology: The First Temple Period (SBLSymS, 18; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003). See also T. L. Thompson (ed.), Jerusalem in Ancient History and Tradition ( JSOTSup, 381; Copenhagen International Seminar, 13; London: T & T Clark International, 2003); and also Z. Kafafi (ed.), Jerusalem before Islam (forthcoming). 21 M. L. Steiner, ‘Jerusalem in the Tenth and Seventh Centuries bce: From Administrative Centre to Commercial City’, in A. Mazar and G. Mathias (eds.), Studies in the Archaeology of the Iron Age in Israel and Jordan ( JSOTSup, 331; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001), pp. 280–88; idem, Excavations by Kathleen M. Kenyon in Jerusalem, 1961–1967. Vol. 3, The Settlement in the Bronze and Iron Ages (Copenhagen International Series, 9; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001); idem, ‘Expanding Borders: The Development of Jerusalem in the Iron Age’, in Thompson, Jerusalem, pp. 68–79; idem, ‘The Evidence from Kenyon’s Excavations in Jerusalem: A Response Essay’, in Vaughn and Killebrew, Jerusalem, pp. 347–64; idem, ‘Jerusalem in the 10th/9th centuries bc’, on the website ‘The Bible and Interpretation’ (www.bibleinterp.com; August, 2004). 22 A. E. Killebrew, ‘Biblical Jerusalem: An Archaeological Assessment’, in Vaughn and Killebrew, Jerusalem, pp. 329–46.
the notion of jerusalem as a holy city
455
structure. Ashlar masonry was found in its vicinity as well as the largest proto-aeolic capital of ancient Israel. Just south of the temple mount, part of an imposing citadel was found with a four-chambered entrance gate whose dimensions were almost identical to those of the palace gate 1567 in Megiddo of Stratum VA–IVB. Adjacent to this gate, part of a building ‘of royal character’ was excavated. The first phase of these buildings was dated to the ninth centuries bce, although admittedly the evidence for dating it is very scant.23 The stepped stone structure and the casemate wall protected a modest town with some public buildings and a small residential area. Its size will not have exceeded 12 hectares, and it may have housed 1,000 to 2,000 inhabitants. This settlement can be described as an administrative centre rather than as a residential city. This settlement was very similar to contemporary towns such as Hazor, Megiddo, Beth Shemesh and Lachish in that it featured monumental architecture with ashlar masonry and proto-aeolic capitals, and had little room for residential areas. However one interprets the political situation of that time (‘United Kingdom’ or not), Jerusalem was one of the many fortified centres, and thus not very different or special. It may or may not have housed a temple for the God of Israel (see above). During the following centuries this town slowly expanded. At the end of that period Jerusalem began to change enormously. As a result of the Assyrian campaigns against the kingdom of Israel in the years 734 to 720 bce, many refugees must have found their way to the southern kingdom of Judah, and to Jerusalem. All around the old town new extra-mural quarters with houses had sprung up. The Assyrian threat induced the kings of Judah to build new fortification walls around their town as well as sophisticated water works. The new city walls were built to incorporate these new quarters. The result was that by the end of the eighth century bce the town had grown to 40 or 50 hectares within its fortifications, and may have housed up to 10,000 inhabitants. Whenever it was built, one may assume that in that period the temple was securely situated on what is now called the Haram esh-Sheriff.
23 E. Mazar, B. Mazar and Y. Nadelman, Excavations in the South of the Temple Mount: The Ophel of Biblical Jerusalem (Qedem, 29; Jerusalem: The Institute of Archaeology, The Hebrew University, 1989).
456
margreet l. steiner
Jerusalem was the capital of Judah, and the most important town of a hierarchically structured settlement system. This system consisted of administrative and residential towns as well as fortresses, villages and isolated farms and it reflected the economic and political system in Judah. The many settlements were connected by their economic and political relationships: the agricultural and craft products of the farms and small villages were apparently processed and stored in the larger towns, while some ‘cash crops’ such as olive oil and grain will have been exported through interregional trade contacts concentrated in Jerusalem. The larger towns functioned as administrative centres for the various regions. The wording of the Taylor Prism mirrors back this settlement pattern. Sennacherib noted: ‘As for Hezekiah the Judean, who did not submit to my yoke, 46 of his strong, walled cities, as well as the small cities in their neighbourhood, which were without number, [. . .] I besieged and took’. In the beginning of the seventh century bce, the Assyrian campaigns put an end to this system. The Assyrians destroyed not only most of Judah’s towns, but its complete urban infrastructure. Only Jerusalem escaped the destructions wrought by the Assyrians, as if by miracle. And not only was the town saved, it actually continued to thrive. In the seventh century bce Jerusalem’s political and economic position seemed to be completely different from the situation in the ninth and eighth centuries bce. Jerusalem was left as the only city in Judah. Many destroyed towns never recovered from the damages wrought by the Assyrians. In most towns the destroyed town walls were not repaired, while new habitation on those sites was either on a much smaller scale or completely absent. At Lachish new fortifications were built, but occupation within those walls was limited, and the administrative buildings were never used again. Important towns such as Gezer were given over to the Philistines by the Assyrians. Jerusalem was no longer positioned at the top of a settlement system which also included many other fortified and unfortified towns engaging in all kinds of activities. On the contrary, Jerusalem was now the only real town, and all those functions must have been centred in it. Much more than before Jerusalem was the central city of Judah. Economically Jerusalem bloomed. New town quarters were laid out for the rich traders and artisans with spacious dwellings, underground drainage channels and stone toilet seats. Luxury goods were imported: wood for furniture, ivory, decorative shells, fine pottery
the notion of jerusalem as a holy city
457
bowls, scarabs and bronze. Food was brought in from afar: wine from Greece or Cyprus and fish from the Nile. Foreign traders may have lived in the town; three names in South Arabian script were found incised on local Judean pottery. Exported were grain and olive oil. Jerusalem was a rich and thriving ‘metropolis’. It seems that notably in the second half of the seventh century bce, when the Assyrian domination waned, Judah experienced a period of economic prosperity. Everywhere new settlements were built, and new regions were exploited for the first time. In the Judean desert new agricultural estates were developed and the coastal regions of the Dead Sea and the Jericho oasis were used for the large-scale cultivation of balsam trees and date palms and the winning of salt and bitumen. New fortresses were erected, and a luxurious palace was built at Ramat Rachel near Jerusalem. Jerusalem was exceptionally large—at least for the region in that period. Some 50 hectares were encompassed by its fortifications, and there may have been additional occupancy outside the city walls. Comparing Jerusalem’s size with that of other fortified towns in the region puts this in perspective. Most of the towns in the region did not exceed 6 hectares, while only Ekron with 20 hectares was larger than that. Towns larger than 50 hectares are only known in ancient Palestine from the Middle Bronze Age, when Hazor reached a size of 84 hectares and Ashkelon of 55 hectares. Even these sites were small, however, compared to Mesopotamian sites. Nineveh in its heyday measured 700 hectares and Babylon 1,000 hectares. But in ancient Israel Jerusalem can be seen as an immense metropolis. As Jerusalem was much larger than all other towns and the only real city in Judah, it was the place where all economic, political and social power was concentrated. Geographers call this a ‘primate city’. The annals of King Nebuchadnezzar illustrate this special position beautifully. Here there are no references to the ‘many strong-walled cities’. The Babylonian Chronicle states simply: ‘In the seventh year, the month of Kislev, the king of Akkad mustered his troops, marched to the Hatti-land and encamped against the city of Judah, and on the second day of the month of Adar, he seized the city and captured the king’.
458
margreet l. steiner 4. Conclusion
It is difficult to underestimate the changes Jerusalem experienced at the end of the eighth century bce under pressure of the Assyrian threat—and especially after 701 bce, when the town had withstood the Assyrian attacks, as one of the few towns in the whole region. With the influx of refugees from the northern kingdom and from Judah itself and the elimination of rivalling towns in the region, Jerusalem had grown to a size almost unprecedented in the Levant, especially in the Iron Age. All economic and political power of the small but ‘independent’ state of Judah seems to have been centred in Jerusalem. The temple of Jerusalem had survived the ordeal and was now the only temple in the whole region dedicated to JHWH, and thus the central shrine of that religion. If we follow the biblical texts, religious reforms had focused the cult even more on the temple of Jerusalem. There are also indications that the practice of pilgrimage for Passover was established then and that a professional class of priests was forming. My thesis, then, is that the notion that Jerusalem was a holy city may thus have taken root in the seventh century bce. And yes, in that city decent garb was expected.
BILITERAL EXEGESIS OF HEBREW ROOTS IN THE SEPTUAGINT?1 Emanuel Tov 1. Background The first step in any translational activity is the attempt to identify the form and meaning of each word in the source language, without which the translating procedure is not feasible. In the absence of auxiliary tools such as lexicons and concordances, ancient biblical translators thus had to rely on their own knowledge of the Hebrew/Aramaic languages, the context of the words in the source language, and exegetical traditions. Reliance on the context is an important source of information for any translator. In the hands of the ancients, however, such reliance often amounts to what we would consider conjectural renderings (‘guessing’), even though the boundary between adaptation to the context and guessing is very vague. A case can often be made that translators produced conjectural renderings on the basis of the context when a Hebrew word is rendered in completely different ways in accordance with the different contexts in which it appears.2 Another type of conjectural rendering involves a translation that disregards some of the letters of the Hebrew word.3 Some aspects of
1 I am very grateful to my student N. Mizrahi for offering judicious remarks on this manuscript. Some of his suggestions are mentioned below in his name. 2 For examples of conjectural renderings, see E. Tov, ‘Did the Septuagint Translators Always Understand Their Hebrew Text?’, in A. Pietersma and C. E. Cox (eds.), De Septuaginta: Studies in Honour of John William Wevers on His Sixty-Fifth Birthday (Mississauga, Ontario: Benben Publications, 1984), pp. 53–70; rev. edn in E. Tov, The Greek and Hebrew Bible: Collected Essays on the Septuagint (VTSup, 72; Leiden: Brill, 1999), pp. 203–18. For a different view of the nature of guessing, referring mainly to the issue of vocalisation, see J. Barr, ‘“Guessing” in the Septuagint’, in D. Fraenkel et al. (eds.), Studien zur Septuaginta, Robert Hanhart zu Ehren: Aus Anlass seines 65. Geburtstages (MSU, 20; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1990), pp. 19–34. 3 Two examples of such conjectural renderings follow:
460
emanuel tov
the translators’ lexical and grammatical knowledge, especially in the realm of verbal forms, are discussed in this paper. As we focus in this study on some of the deficiencies of the translators, we should probably first remark that the Greek translators were often surprisingly well informed with regard to rarely occurring words or forms in Scripture. In the analysis of the translators’ lexical sources, some unusual sources are also encountered. Thus, some striking resemblances between translation equivalents in the LXX and words in Akkadian4 and Arabic5 (often misleadingly called ‘Arabisms’) may imply that the translators drew on lexical information for Hebrew that was known in their time but subsequently lost. The translators’ reliance on the Aramaic language is a different situation. Aramaic was a living language when the translation was
(1) 2 Chron 35.13 twjlxbw μydwdbw twrysb wlçb ‘they boiled in pots, in cauldrons, and in pans’
¥chsan §n to›w xalke¤oiw ka‹ §n to›w l°besin. ka‹ eÈod≈yh
‘they boiled in the copper vessels and in the pots, and it succeeded’ hj;l;x´ (‘pan’) of MT is a hapax legomenon while the related tjLx occurs three times in the Hebrew Bible and tyjlx occurs once. The word was probably unknown to the translator, who derived it from the known root jlx (‘to succeed’), disregarding both the internal division of the verse and the prefix and suffix of the word. The translation, which does not suit the context, was based on a cluster of consonants in which the translator recognised the meaning ‘to succeed’ without entering into details regarding the precise form of the word. hnwrdsmh dwha axyw (2) Judg 3.23 ‘and Ehud left towards the ˆwrdsm’ ka‹ §j∞lyen toÁw diatetagm°nouw LXXB ‘and he removed (?) the arranged soldiers (?)’ The hapax ˆwrdsm (BDB, p. 690, ‘colonnade?’) is rendered as if it were μyrdsm(h) (‘those who are arranged’). Cf. hrdç—diãtajiw in 1 Kgs 6.9 (MSS A . . .) and hryds— tetagm°nh in Sir 10.1. This understanding required the translator to conceive of axyw and §j∞lyen as transitive verbs (not evidenced in Greek according to LSJ). In the rendering of hnwrdsm the translator thus identified a word cluster consisting of the consonants rds, while disregarding the exact form of the word. 4 For some examples, see G. R. Driver, ‘L’Interprétation du texte masorétique à la lumière de la lexicographie hébraïque’, ETL 26 (1950), pp. 337–53. 5 For examples and a discussion, see Z. Frankel, Vorstudien zu der Septuaginta (Historisch-kritische Studien zu der Septuaginta, nebst Beiträgen zu den Targumim, 1; Leipzig: F. C. W. Vogel, 1841; repr. edn: Farnborough: Gregg, 1972), pp. 201–22; G. R. Driver, ‘Studies in the Vocabulary of the Old Testament. VII’, JTS 35 (1934), pp. 380–93; idem, ‘Studies in the Vocabulary of the Old Testament. VIII’, JTS 36 (1935), pp. 293–301; D. W. Thomas, ‘The Language of the Old Testament’, in H. W. Robinson (ed.), Record and Revelation: Essays on the Old Testament (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1938), pp. 374–402; J. Barr, Comparative Philology and the Text of the Old Testament (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968), pp. 238–45.
biliteral exegesis of hebrew roots in the septuagint? 461 made, and the translators were probably equally familiar with that language as with Hebrew. The translators possibly based themselves more on Aramaic than Hebrew, but because of the close resemblance between these two languages one cannot distinguish between the translators’ different sources. However, when the LXX agrees with an Aramaic root that has a meaning different from its Hebrew counterpart, such inappropriate reliance on Aramaic can be established easily.6 Other mishaps occurred when the translator chose a wrong translation on the basis of postbiblical rather than biblical Hebrew.7 Finally, the Greek Pentateuch often served as a source of lexical information for later translators.8 The main source of lexical information for the translators thus was their living knowledge of the Hebrew and Aramaic languages, which allowed them to determine the semantic content of words in their Vorlagen. However, before that information could be utilised, the translators had to analyse the morphological nature of the word being translated in order to determine, for example, whether it was a noun or a verb. Furthermore, if it was a verb, we wonder whether the translator took further steps in his analysis. In accordance with the grammatical concepts that developed from medieval times onwards,
6 For examples and an analysis, see J. Joosten, ‘On Aramaising Renderings in the Septuagint’, in M. F. J. Baasten and W. Th. van Peursen (eds.), Hamlet on a Hill: Semitic and Greek Studies Presented to Professor T. Muraoka on the Occasion of his SixtyFifth Birthday (OLA, 118; Leuven: Peeters, 2003), pp. 587–600. For an earlier analysis, see E. Tov, The Text-Critical Use of the Septuagint in Biblical Research ( Jerusalem Biblical Studies, 8; Jerusalem: Simor, 2nd rev. edn, 1997), pp. 249–50. 7 For many examples and an analysis, see the valuable studies by J. Joosten, ‘The Knowledge and Use of Hebrew in the Hellenistic Period: Qumran and the Septuagint’, in T. Muraoka and J. F. Elwolde (eds.), Diggers at the Well: Proceedings of a Third International Symposium on the Hebrew of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Ben Sira (STDJ, 36; Leiden: Brill, 2000), pp. 115–30; idem, ‘On the LXX Translators’ Knowledge of Hebrew’, in B. A. Taylor (ed.), X Congress of the International Organization for Septuagint and Cognate Studies, Oslo, 1998 (SBLSCS, 51; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2001), pp. 165–79; idem, ‘Biblical Hebrew as Mirrored in the Septuagint: The Question of Influence from Spoken Hebrew’, Text 21 (2002), pp. 1–19; idem, ‘Linguistic Innovations in the Hebrew of the Hellenistic Period: Qumran and the Septuagint’, Meghillot 2 (2004), pp. 151–55 (Hebrew). See further: Frankel, Vorstudien, p. 201; J. Blau, ‘Zum Hebräisch der Übersetzer des AT’, VT 6 (1956), pp. 98–100. 8 See E. Tov, ‘The Impact of the LXX Translation of the Pentateuch on the Translation of the Other Books’, in P. Casetti, O. Keel and A. Schenker (eds.), Mélanges Dominique Barthélemy (OBO, 38; Fribourg: Éditions Universitaires; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1981), pp. 577–92; rev. edn in Tov, The Greek and Hebrew Bible, pp. 183–94.
462
emanuel tov
the translators may have had to determine the root of the verb, as well as its conjugation (binyan), aspect, and tense. How else would a translator be able to distinguish between such homographic consonantal forms as the Pi'el wayedabber (‘he spoke’) and the Hiph'il wayadber in Pss 18.48 and 47.4 (‘he subdued’; correctly rendered by the LXX with forms of Ípotãssv)? However, it seems that the translators did not have to go through all these analytical stages. It need not be assumed that the translators were aware of such abstractions as ‘roots’ or conjugations when identifying meaningful elements in verbs. They possibly had only a vague understanding of such abstractions as conjugations, which included the distinction between the Qal, Hiph'il, and Hitpa'el forms of the same root. It sufficed for the translators to distinguish between a form reflecting ‘something like the Qal ’ and a form incorporating ‘something like the Hiph'il ’. In all likelihood, together with that base knowledge of meaningful patterns in the Hebrew/Aramaic verbs, the translators probably recognised clusters of meaningful elements or word patterns that allowed them to identify the essence of the Hebrew verb. After all, it sufficed to distinguish between wydbr 1 (= wayedabber) carrying meaning 1 and wydbr 2 (wayadber) carrying meaning 2. The translation was thus based on the understanding of the semantic content of clusters of consonants (letters) in Hebrew/ Aramaic, and the actual reading or pronunciation (‘vocalisation’ in later times) and parsing are not a necessary part of the translation process.9 The search for these determinative clusters of consonants in the source language is part and parcel of the procedure of etymological exegesis.10 Thus, traçm (‘kneading trough’) in Deut 28.5, 17 was
9 Obviously, the understanding by the translators of the meaningful elements of a word sometimes differs from that of MT and/or modern understanding. Anachronistically, these different understandings are sometimes described as differences in vocalisation. For analyses, see J. Barr, ‘Vocalization and the Analysis of Hebrew among the Ancient Translators’, in W. Baumgartner, Hebräische Wortforschung: Festschrift zum 80. Geburstag von Walter Baumgartner (VTSup, 16; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1967), pp. 1–11; idem, ‘Reading a Script without Vowels’, in E. Pulgram and W. Haas (eds.), Writing without Letters (Mont Follick Series, 4; Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1967), pp. 71–100; Tov, Text-Critical Use, pp. 159–74. See further Barr, ‘Guessing’. 10 Various aspects of this assumed etymological procedure and its implications for the type of translation and the nature of the Greek of the LXX have been discussed by U. Rapallo, Calchi ebraici nelle antiche versioni del “Levitico” (Studi Semitici, 39; Rome: Istituto di studi del Vicino Oriente, Università di Roma, 1971); J. Barr,
biliteral exegesis of hebrew roots in the septuagint? 463 taken as a noun related to the verb rùùaç (‘to remain’). The next step for the translator was to locate an equivalent Greek noun, in this case one derived from its Greek counterpart (§g)katale¤pv, viz. §gkatãleimma. This etymological translation was based on the formal relation between the noun traçm and the root rùùaç, regardless of the fact that §gkatãleimma is not used in Greek as ‘kneading trough’,11 but only as ‘that which was left’. Etymological exegesis lies at the base of all ancient translations, be it in its simple form, as in the example given above, or in more complex forms. This paper focuses on one aspect of this procedure, namely exegesis involving a biliteral understanding of Hebrew words, especially verbs. 2. Biliteral Exegesis? Although most semantic identifications of verbs by the LXX translators are ‘correct’, and most of them refer to triliteral Hebrew verbs, it does not necessarily follow that the translators adhered to a system of triliteral roots. The evidence merely shows that the translators were able to draw on various sources, enabling them to obtain the necessary semantic information. Triliteral verbs usually formed the basis for these identifications; for most of them (e.g., rùùmç, dùùb[), all three letters were necessary for the identification, while in some cases two letters sufficed. In the weak verbs (patterns aùùp, yùùp, nùùp, aùù[, [ùù[, ywùù[, aùùl, hùùl), often only two radicals were needed for semantic identification. Thus for the rendering of μjyc[ the translator merely needed to identify the radicals c[ as relating hùùc[, since the roots, *ac[, *cw[, *cc[, *c[y, etc. do not exist and other options are therefore irrelevant. This is
The Typology of Literalism in Ancient Biblical Translations (MSU, 15; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1979), pp. 318–22. 11 Accordingly, when LSJ ascribes to this word a meaning ‘kneading trough’ on the basis of its occurrence in the LXX of Deuteronomy, it creates a meaning that did not exist at the time of the LXX translation. On this and other misconceptions with regard to the LXX in this otherwise excellent lexicon, see G. B. Caird, ‘Towards a Lexicon of the Septuagint’, JTS 19 (1968), pp. 453–75; 20 (1969), pp. 21–41. Some of these imprecisions have been corrected in E. A. Barber, A GreekEnglish Lexicon: A Supplement (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968); P. G. W. Glare, A Greek-English Lexicon: Revised Supplement (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996).
emanuel tov
464
not a problematic case, nor are the translations of forms of bùùbs, since *bùùsy, *bùùsa, *bùùws, *bùùsn, *hùùbs are not evidenced. These forms could be identified on the basis of the letters bs without taking a third radical into consideration. However, other instances are more complex since the opposition between verbs aùùl and hùùl, such as in the case of anq (‘to envy’) and hnq (‘to acquire’), necessitates either the examination of the third radical or reliance on the context. For an inappropriate choice in the nq group, see below. This description implies that the translators could make a shortcut by relying on merely two of the root letters. At the same time, it is not easy to substantiate this assumption for the LXX since the semantic information of most Hebrew verbs is correctly identified, and one needs to make a strong case proving that the translation of certain verbal forms was based on only two letters. Nevertheless, there are such instances, since mistaken renderings suggest that in some cases two letters sufficed for the semantic identification of verbal forms. We take our clue from assumed shortcuts by the translators in the identification process. For some verbs, a cluster of two letters sufficed for identification, but if that abbreviated cluster was the key for two different verbs, mishaps could occur, as, for example, in the case of ar pointing to both the hùùl verb hùùar (‘to see’) and the yùùp verb aùùry (‘to fear’): (1) Forms of hùùar and aùùry were frequently interchanged in Hebrew sources because of their similarity. These forms also must have puzzled translators on occasion. Thus, a homograph such as wary required the translator to decide whether it is derived from the root r"h (‘to see’) or yr " (‘to fear’), represented in the Tiberian vocalisation as War“yI (‘they will see’ [passim in the Bible]), Wary: (‘they feared’ [passim]), or Wary“ (‘fear!’ [e.g., Ps 34.10]). The same decision had to be made regarding aryw which may be derived from either r"h (ar“Y"w" [‘and he saw’]) or yr " (ar:YIw" = ar:yYIw" [‘and he feared’]). Likewise, arwm (‘terror’), an intrinsically unproblematic word related to yr " (‘to fear’), was often12 linked by the LXX to the root r "h (‘to see’): Deut 4.34
μyarwmbw
ka‹ §n ırãmasin (= V visiones, TOJ
ˆynzj)
12 Contrast the derivation of arwm from yr" (‘to fear’) by the same translator in Deut 11.25, ˆty μkarwmw μkdjp—tÚn trÒmon Ím«n ka‹ tÚn fÒbon Ím«n §piyÆsei and the appropriate equivalents hary—trÒmow, fÒbow occurring elsewhere in the LXX.
biliteral exegesis of hebrew roots in the septuagint? 465 Deut 26.8
ar:mobw
ka‹ §n ırãmasin (cf. TOJ
anwzj)
Jer 32(39).21 arwmbw
ka‹ §n ırãmasin
Guided by the respective contexts,13 the translators associated ar(w)m with the cluster ar, which they linked with r "h (‘to see’) rather than yr" (‘to fear’). At the same time, it is hard to define a boundary between the etymological procedure described above, which does not involve the possibility of a variant reading, and the assumption of a variant reading as may be suggested by the reading μyarmbw of the Samaritan Pentateuch in Deut 4.34 and harmbw in the same text in Deut 26.8.14 The confusion between the two roots is also visible in the occasional translation of arwn as §pifanÆw: Hab 1.7
awh ar:wOnw“ μúya…
( 6 tÚ ¶ynow tÚ pikrÚn . . . tÚ poreuÒmenon §p‹ tå plãth t∞w g∞w toË kataklhronom∞sai skhn≈mata oÈk aÈtoË) foberÚw ka‹ §pifanÆw §stin
Within Habakkuk’s harsh description of the enemy in 1.5–10 (11?), the Chaldeans are described in the LXX of v 7 as foberÚw ka‹ §pifanÆw. In this context it is understandable that the Chaldean people should be called foberÒw (‘frightening’, ‘terrible’), but what does the next word, §pifanÆw, mean in this context? Are the people ‘conspicuous’, ‘evident’, or ‘famous’? Or should we rather take §pifanÆw as the opposite of its main meaning, that is, ‘infamous’? However, the solution to this question lies in a different area. Against the sense of the passage, the translator derived arwn from hùùar, and somehow adapted the rendering to the context. Joel 2.11 dam arwnw hwhy μwy lwdg yk
diÒti megãlh ≤ ≤m°ra toË kur¤ou, megãlh ka‹ §pifanØw sfÒdra
In this verse (cf. also 3.4), ‘the day of the Lord’ is seemingly described as ‘glorious’, but the real meaning of §pifanÆw is ‘conspicuous’, as the Hebrew was derived from hùùar (‘to see’).15 E.g., Deut 4.34 μyldg μyarwmbw hywfn [wrzbw hqzj dybw. Likewise, in the Passover Haggadah, ldg ar:mo (Deut 26.8) is explained as the ‘revelation of God’s presence’, probably on the basis of harm. 15 The same rendering occurs in Judg 13.6A (as opposed to B foberÒn); Mal 13 14
emanuel tov
466
(2) The frequent translation of r[´wm (lha) (‘[tent] of meeting’) on the basis of r[´ (‘witness’) as (≤ skÆnh) toË martur¤ou is based on its last two consonants,16 although other verses were possibly echoed in the translators’ ears.17 In the great majority of the instances described below, the biliteral exegesis pertains to weak verbs, such as the patterns aùùp, yùùp, etc. In some instances, however, such exegesis pertains to strong verbs, such as dùùrm (‘to rebel’) and hmrm (‘deceit’) explained from rm (‘bitter’), μùùlk (‘to humiliate’) explained from aùùlk (‘to prevent’) through lk, ˆmd (‘dung’) explained from hùùmd (‘to resemble’) through md, etc. In several examples below, a quiescent aleph is involved. The translators’ biliteral renderings should be seen in the light of an internal analysis of the LXX, but Hebrew variations in MT and the Qumran scrolls, developments in Rabbinic Hebrew, and medieval Jewish grammatical theories should be taken into consideration as well. These aspects will be analysed in the third section of this paper. In the following non-exhaustive collection of samples, the heading mentions in bold characters the two-letter basis for the exegesis, followed (from right to left) by (1) the root of the biblical word according to modern understanding and (2) the root, letters, or word reflected by the LXX. Thus in the first example, vna/vya is a Niph'al form of vay, but the translators derived the word from vna/vya. The two understandings have the letters va in common. va çna, çya/çùùay Jer 2.25
vawn (yrmatw) ‘(But she said:) “Desperate”’ éndrioËmai
‘I will strengthen myself ’
In MT, the adulteress says: ‘Desperate. (“No, I love the strangers, and I must go after them”)’, while in the LXX she says: ‘I will
1.14; 3.22; Zeph 3.1; and 1 Chron 17.21. For an analysis of this rendering, see E. Tov, ‘Greek Words and Hebrew Meanings’, in T. Muraoka (ed.), Melbourne Symposium on Septuagint Lexicography (SBLSCS, 28; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1990), pp. 83–125; rev. edn in Tov, The Greek and Hebrew Bible, pp. 109–28. 16 Also when occurring alone, d[wm has been rendered as martÊrion (1 Sam 9.24; 13.11; etc.). 17 Both dùù[y and dùùw[ are used in connection with the ‘tent of meeting’ (see Exod 30.36). See further twd[ (lha) in Exod 30.36; Num 9.15; 17.22; 18.2.
biliteral exegesis of hebrew roots in the septuagint? 467 strengthen myself (for she loved strangers, and went after them)’. The translation of vawn, which is based on vna/vya rather than vay, yields a completely different, though not necessarily impossible, meaning from that in MT.18 In Jer 18.12 also, the Greek translation creates a new context opposed to that of MT: Jer 18.12
vawn (wrmaw) ‘But they will say: “It is no use”’ ka‹ e‰pan éndrioÊmeya
‘But they said: “We will strengthen ourselves”’
rb rùùrb/rbrb 1 Kgs 5.3
μyswba μyrbrbw
(4.23)
‘and fatted geese’ . . . ka‹ Ùrn¤yvn §klekt«n siteutã ‘and choice birds, fatted’
rbrb (‘goose’?), a hapax legomenon in the Bible, is derived here from rùùrb (cf. [r]ù rb—§kl°gv, §klektÒw elsewhere in the LXX). See also the next example of an equivalent occurring earlier in the same verse. (r)ù rb/ayrb 1 Kgs 5.3
μyairb rqb hrç[w ‘and ten fattened oxen’
(4.23)
ka‹ d°ka mÒsxoi §klekto¤
‘and ten choice calves’
vb vùùby/vùùab Isa 50.2
(μym ˆya μtgd) vabt ‘(their fish) stink (because of lack of water)’ ka‹ jhranyÆsontai (= 1QIsaa çbyt) ‘and (they) will dry out’
In the LXX, in which the aleph was conceived of as a mute letter, only the letters vb were taken into consideration. However, it is not impossible that the LXX reflects a different reading also found in 1QIsaa.19
The translators of 1 Sam 27.1; Isa 57.10; Job 6.26 identified çawn correctly. See E. Y. Kutscher, The Language and Linguistic Background of the Isaiah Scroll (1 Q Isaa) (STDJ, 6; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1974), p. 241. 18
19
emanuel tov
468
rg rùùga/rùùgn Jer 18.21
(brj ydy l[) μrghw ‘and mow them down (by the sword)’ ka‹ îyroison aÈtoÊw
‘and assemble them’
In rendering μrghw, only the middle two letters rg were taken as determinative for the identification, with the understanding that a quiescent aleph was lost (i.e., μrgahw). The same phenomenon must have taken place in the next example in which the translator understood his Vorlage to read μyrg: or μyrg:m¨ reflecting his understanding μyrg(a)(m). Jer 20.10
rùùga/(rùùwg) rwgm (bybsm) rwgm (μybr tbd yt[mç) ‘(I heard the whispers of the crowd—) terror (all around)’ sunayroizom°nvn
‘of those who assemble’
md hùùmd/ˆmd Jer 8.2
(wyhy hmdah ynp l[) ˆmdl ‘(they shall become) dung (upon the face of the earth)’ efiw parãdeigma
‘an example’
This rendering, based on the root hùùmd, recurs in Jer 9.22 (21); 16.4. For the same equivalent, see Dan 2.5. Also cf. Ps 17.12 wnymd, rendered by Aquila as ımo¤vsiw aÈt«n (reconstructed from Syh ˆwhlyd aymwd).
Mic 1.12
lj lùùlj/hùùlj (twrm tbçwy bwfl) hlj ‘(the inhabitant[s] of Maroth) hoped for (good)’ t¤w ≥rjato
‘who started?’
lùùlj/lùùyj Ps 10.5
(t[ lkb wykrd) wlyjy ‘(his ways) prosper (at all times)’
(9.26)
bebhloËntai
‘are defiled’
biliteral exegesis of hebrew roots in the septuagint? 469 The various confusions of renderings of the lj group in the LXX have been analysed extensively by Weissert.20 In the examples listed here, the translators created completely new contexts differing from those of MT. See further below, n. 32.
Jer 17.17
sj sùùwj/(hùùsj) hsjm (h[r μwyb) hta ysjm ‘you are my refuge (in a day of calamity)’ feidÒmenÒw mou
‘. . . sparing me’ Joel 4.16
(wm[l) hsjm (hwhyw) ‘(and the Lord) will be a shelter (to his people)’ fe¤setai
‘he will be merciful’
Although the roots sùùwj and hùùsj are semantically close to one another, they represent different ideas. fe¤domai usually reflects forms of sùùwj.
ry hrwh/rwa In two verses in 2 Kings, forms of hrwh (‘to instruct’) have been rendered as if related to rwa (‘light’): 2 Kgs 12.3, whrwh; 17.28, hrwm (in both cases: fvt¤zv based on rwa—f«w passim in the LXX).21 Likewise, in Hab 2.18, 19 hrwm and hrwy were rendered as fantas¤a as if from rwa. The etymological interpretation behind these renderings should be compared with the textual variation between (˚yfpçm) wrwy in MT Deut 33.10 and 4QTest (4Q175) 17, wryayw.22 This example shows that the boundary between etymological exegesis and the assumption or presence of a variant is very subtle.
20 D. Weissert, ‘Alexandrian Analogical Word-Analysis and Septuagint Translation Techniques: A Case Study of lwj – ylj – llj’, Text 8 (1974), pp. 31–44. 21 The two renderings occur in sections ascribed to kaige-Th, and similar renderings occur passim in Aquila’s translation that was based on kaige-Th. See M. Smith, ‘Another Criterion for the ka¤ge Recension’, Bib 48 (1967), pp. 443–45. 22 First publication: J. M. Allegro, Discoveries in the Judean Desert of Jordan: Qumrân Cave 4, I (4Q158–4Q186) (DJD, 5; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968), pp. 57–60; cf. 4QpIsad (4Q164) 5, μyryam fpçmk.
emanuel tov
470
lk hùùlk/μùùlk 23
1 Sam 20.34
(wyba) wmlik]h ‘(his father) had humiliated him’ sunet°lesen §p' aÈtÒn
‘he had completed upon him’
aùùlk/μùùlk 1 Sam 25.7
μwnm]lækh… ‘we humiliated them’ épekvlÊsamen aÈtoÊw
‘we prevented them’ 1 Sam 25.15
wnm]læk]h… al ‘we were not humiliated’ oÈk épek≈lusan ≤mçw
‘they did not prevent us’
The Greek translation created contexts completely different from those in MT. lùùlk/lùùwk, lùùyk Jer 6.11
lykh ytyaln ‘I cannot hold it in’
ka‹ §p°sxon ka‹ oÈ sunet°lesa aÈtoÊw
‘and I held (it) and I did not complete them’ Ezek 23.32
lykhl (hbrm) ‘it holds (so much)’ toË suntel°sai
‘to complete’
lùùka/hùùlk Hab 3.17
(ˆax) hlkimm (rz:g): ‘(the flock was cut off from) the sheepfold’ (§j°lipon) épÚ br≈sevw (prÒbata) ‘from the food’
2 Chron 30.22 (r[wmh ta) wlkayw ‘they ate the (food of the festival)’ ka‹ sunet°lesan
‘and they completed’
23 On the confusion of kol and kalah in the LXX, see F. H. Polak, ‘The Interpretation of húLKu/hl;K; in the LXX: Ambiguity and Intuitive Comprehension’, Text 17 (1994), pp. 57–77.
biliteral exegesis of hebrew roots in the septuagint? 471 In all these cases, the Greek translation created contexts completely different from those in MT. In Habakkuk, hlkm was derived by the translator from lùùka. For a similar rendering, see Isa 3.6: tazh hlçkmhw—tÚ br«ma §mÒn (‘my food’). The wording of this verse in Greek has much in common with the next one, and may have been influenced by it; at the same time, the translator of Isaiah may have had the root lùùka in mind (cf. 1 Kgs 5.25, tlkm, ‘food’). rm
(r)ù rm/hùùrm Deut 31.27
hwhy μ[ μtyh μyrmm ‘you have been rebellious against the Lord’ parapikra¤nontew ∑te prÚw tÚn yeÒn
‘you have been embittering (in your conduct) toward God’
Words of the hùùrm group have often been rendered as parapikra¤nv (‘to embitter’), a verb that is related to the adjective pikrÒw, ‘bitter’ (usually reflecting rm). This frequent LXX equivalence was apparently influenced by its first occurrence in the Greek Pentateuch, in the present verse.24 (r)ù rm/dùùrm Ezek 2.3
yb wdrm rça μydrwmh (μywg la) larçy ynb la ‘. . . to nations of rebels who have rebelled against me’ prÚw tÚn o‰kon toË Israhl toÁw parapikra¤nontãw me
‘to the house of Israel, them that embitter me’
This example transcends the boundaries of the group of weak verbs. Ps 10.7
(r)ù rm/hmrm ˚tw twmrmw alm whyp hla
(9.28)
o érçw tÚ stÒma aÈtoË g°mei ka‹ pikr¤aw ka‹ dÒlou
‘his mouth is filled with cursing, deceit and oppression’ ‘whose mouth is full of cursing, and bitterness and fraud’
24
See Tov, ‘Impact’. See further the thorough discussion of this word by P. Walters, The Text of the Septuagint: Its Corruptions and Their Emendation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1973), pp. 150–53, as well as earlier studies: M. Flashar, ‘Exegetische Studien zum Septuagintapsalter’, ZAW 32 (1912), pp. 185–89; R. Helbing, Die Kasussyntax der Verba bei den Septuaginta: ein Beitrag zur Hebraismenfrage und zur Syntax der Koine (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1928), pp. 101–103. N. Mizrahi (oral communication) suggests that the Greek rendering in Deuteronomy was created by haplography from μyrmm to μyrm.
emanuel tov
472
jn jùùwn/hùùjn/μùùjn These three roots have different base meanings (μùùjn = ‘to comfort, relent’; hùùjn = ‘to lead’; jùùwn = ‘to rest’), yet in the translations they are often interchanged because of their similarity, sometimes producing homographic forms. (μjnh actually produced forms from all three roots in the various witnesses, as in 1 Sam 22.4; 1 Kgs 10.26; 2 Kgs 18.11; Prov 11.3.) The close relationship between the roots is evident already in the MT of Genesis, where the name of Noah is explained from μùùjn (Gen 5.29). The present study focuses on forms that are derived from one of the three roots, but are rendered by another one. Isa 1.24
yrxm μjna ywh ‘Ah, I will get satisfaction from my foes’ (NJPS) oÈ paÊsetai gãr mou ı yumÚw §n to›w Ípenant¤oiw
‘For my wrath shall not cease against my adversaries’ paÊomai (‘to cease’) and its composites frequently reflect jùùwn in the LXX. μùùjn is also rendered as paÊomai in Jer 26(33).3, 13, 19; 31(38).15; 42(49).10. Isa 63.14
wnjynt hwhy jwr ‘the spirit of the Lord gave them rest’
pneËma parå kur¤ou. ka‹ »dÆghsen aÈtoÊw
‘the spirit from the Lord, and guided them (wnj,ntæ)’
Jer 23.31
mn μùùwn/μùùan μan wmanyw μnwçl μyjqlh (. . . μaybnh l[ ynnh) ‘(behold, I am against the prophets . . .), who use their tongue and deliver a speech’
LXX88 L’ La-w toÁw §klambãnontaw (LXXrel §kbãllontaw) profhte¤aw gl≈sshw ka‹ nustãzontaw nustagmÚn aÈt«n
‘. . . who put forth prophecies of (their) tongue and slumber their sleep’
The translator derived μan wmanyw from μùùwn (‘to slumber’), as if the text read μwn wmwnyw, for which cf. the frequent spelling of μan in 1QIsaa as μawn/μwan/μwn.25
25
Kutscher, Isaiah Scroll, pp. 498–500.
biliteral exegesis of hebrew roots in the septuagint? 473 ps πùùsa/πùùsy Jer 7.21
(μhyjbz l[) wps (μkytwl[) ‘add (your burnt offerings to your other sacrifices)’ sunagãgete
Isa 29.1
‘assemble’ (hnç l[ hnç) wps ‘add (year to year)’ sunagãgete (genÆmata §niautÚn §p' §niautÒn) ‘assemble (produce year by year)’
To these renderings, cf. the interchange: MT hpsaw/1QIsaa hpsyw in Isa 37.31.26 πùùsa/hùùps Isa 13.15
Exod 23.16
(brjb lwpy) hpsnh lkw ‘(whoever) is caught (will fall by the sword)’ ka‹ o·tinew sunhgm°noi efis¤n (similarly S πswttnd) ‘and all the assembled’
πùùws/πùùsa (hdçh ˆm ˚yç[m ta) ˚psab (hnçh taxb) πysah gjw ‘(you shall observe) the Festival of Ingathering (at the end of the year), when you gather in (from the field the fruit of your labour)’
ka‹ •ortØn suntele¤aw (§pÉ §jÒdou toË §niautoË) §n tª sunagvgª (t«n ¶rgvn sou t«n §k toË égroË sou)
‘. . . and the Feast of Finishing (at the end of the year) in the gathering in (of your fruits out of your field)’ Lev 23.39
(≈rah tawbt ta) μkpsab ‘when you have gathered (the yield of the land)’ ˜tan suntel°shte tå genÆmata t∞w g∞w
‘when you have completed (the fruits of the land)’
The context in Exodus (hnçh taxb, ‘at the end of the year’) probably influenced the present rendering involving the representation of πysah on the basis of πùùws. Interestingly enough, the translator rendered the root πùùsa twice differently in this verse. The following two examples illustrate the complexity of the renderings of the ps group involving the representation of πùùsy as πùùsa in MT:
26
See Kutscher, Isaiah Scroll, p. 220.
emanuel tov
474
πùùsy/πùùsa ttl ˆwpsat al
Exod 5.7
‘you shall not continue to give’ oÈk°ti prosteyÆsetai didÒnai
‘you shall no longer give’
The translator rightly derived ˆwpsat from πùùsy.27 πùùsa/πùùsy 2 Sam 6.1
rwjb lk ta dwd dw[ πsyw ‘(David) again gathered (all the chosen men)’ ka‹ sunÆgagen ¶ti (Dauid pãnta nean¤an) ‘(David) again gathered (every young man)’
The translator rightly derived πsyw from πùùsa. Cf. Ps 104.29, MT πst, and 1QpHab V 14, whpsyw, reflecting Hab 1.15 whpsayw (‘he gathered them’). The following examples show the interaction between πùùws and πùùsa within MT. Formally speaking, the second word in each example is derived from πùùws, but the biblical authors artistically combined the two roots (cf. the third section of this paper). The translator of Jeremiah derived the two forms from πùùsa, while in Zephaniah the two forms were derived from πùùws (probably by the same individual). Jer 8.13
μpeysia πsoa; ‘I will make an end of them’ ka‹ sunãjousi (tå genÆmata aÈt«n) ‘and they will collect (their produce)’
Zeph 1.2
(lk) πs´´a; πsoa; ‘I will sweep (everything) away’ §kle¤cei §klip°tv (pãnta) ‘he must abandon (everything) completely’
xp ≈ùùpn/≈ùùwp Jer 23.1
. . . yty[rm ˆax ta μyxpmw ‘. . . and who scatter the sheep of my pasture’ ka‹ épollÊontew tå prÒbata t∞w nom∞w mou
‘. . . and who destroy the sheep of my pasture’
27
See BDB, p. 415.
biliteral exegesis of hebrew roots in the septuagint? 475 Ezek 34.21
(hntwa) μtwxyph rça ‘until you scattered (them)’ ka‹ §jeyl¤bete
‘and you cruelly treated’
Both Greek translations, based on ≈ùùpn, present a context differing from that of MT. A reverse picture is reflected in the following renderings of ≈ùùpn, which are based on ≈ùùwp. Jer 51.20
ytxpnw . . . yl hta ≈pm ‘you are my war club . . . and I will smash’
(28.20)
diaskorp¤zeiw sÊ moi . . . ka‹ diaskorpi«
‘you are scattering for me . . . and I will scatter’
For similar renderings, see Jer 13.14, 51(28).21, 22, 23, as well as Dan 12.7 Th. rx rùùrx/rùùxn Jer 4.16
(μyab) μyrxn ‘watchers (come)’ sustrofa¤ cf. S amm[d açnk ‘bands/crowds’
For the translation equivalent, cf. rùùrx—sustrofÆ in Hos 4.19; 13.12; Prov 30.4.28
rùùxy/rùùxn Prov 24.12
˚çpn rxnw ‘he who keeps watch over your soul’ ı plãsaw pnoÆn
‘he that formed breath’
Isa 11.11
nq hùùnq/aùùnq (wm[ raç ta) twnql (wdy tynç ynda πyswy) ‘(the Lord will extend his hand yet a second time) to redeem (the remnant of his people)’ toË zhl«sai
‘to be zealous for’
28
See the analysis by C. Rabin, ‘Noßrim’, Text 5 (1966), pp. 44–52.
emanuel tov
476
The translator derived twnql (‘to acquire’) from aùùnq (‘to be zealous’) (cf. v. 13 anqy—zhl≈sei). For the close connection between forms of the two roots, see the artistic use in Ezek 8.3, hnqmh hanqh lms. See the third section of this paper.
ar hùùar/arwn, arwm See the discussion above on p. 464–65.
Ps 2.9
[r hùù[r/[ùù[r (lzrb fbçb) μ[rot ‘you shall break them (with a rod of iron)’ poimane›w aÈtoÊw
= S ˆwna a[rt
‘you shall shepherd them’
μ[rot of MT fits the parallel stitch (μxpnt rxwy ylkk, ‘you will dash them in pieces as a potter’s wheel’), and hence the understanding of the Greek translator, possibly influenced by Mic 7.14, ˚fbçb ˚m[ h[r,29 is inappropriate.
Jer 49.2
vr va/wr / vùùry wyv;r“úy ta (larçy çrúyw) ‘(and Israel shall dispossess) those who dispossessed him’
(30.2)
tØn érxØn aÈtoË
‘its government’
bv bùùvy/bùùbv Jer 3.6, 8, 12
larçy hb(w)çm ‘that faithless one, Israel’ ≤ katoik¤a toË Israhl
‘the house of Israel’
Similarly: Hos 11.7; 14.5. The Greek rendering, based on bùùvy (cf. the translation of bçwm with katoik¤a in Ezek 34.13), is unusual, since there is no apparent reason in the context for this understanding. Elsewhere in Jeremiah,
29
This suggestion was made to me by N. Mizrahi.
biliteral exegesis of hebrew roots in the septuagint? 477
hbwçm is rendered from bùùbç ( Jer 2.19; 3.11, 22) or bùùwç (see the next item). The combination of a noun from the root bùùvy and larçy occurs in Exod 12.40. Jer 8.5
bùùwv/bùùbv (tjxn) hbçm . . . hbbwç ‘is rebellious . . . (with perpetual) rebellion’ ép°strecen
. . . épostrofÆn
‘turned away . . . turning away’
The same rendering recurs in Jer 5.6.
bùùvy/bùùwv Ezek 29.14
μta ytiboçih}w ‘I will bring them back’ ka‹ katoik¤sv aÈtoÊw
‘I will cause them to dwell’
For the closeness of bùùwv and bùùvy, see Jer 42.10, wbçt bwç (cf. the third section of this paper). mv μùùmv/μùùva Hos 10.2
wmvay ‘they must bear their guilt’ éfanisyÆsontai
‘they will be destroyed’
This translation recurs in Hos 14.1 and Joel 1.18. See also Isa 24.6 T; Ezek 6.6 (cf. Sym, S, T); Ps 34.22 (cf. S).
Jer 46.27
nv ˆùùvy/ˆùùnav (dyrjm ˆyaw) ˆnavw fqvw ‘and he will have calm and quiet (and no one shall trouble him)’
(26.27)
ka‹ ≤suxãsei ka‹ Ípn≈sei
‘and he will have calm and will sleep’
The Greek translation of ˆnavw is probably based on an assumed connection between ˆnavw (ˆnavy?) and ˆùùvy (‘to sleep’) involving a quiescent aleph.
emanuel tov
478
rv rùùvy/rùùrv Jer 9.13
μbl twrrv yrja wklyw ‘who stubbornly follow their own will’
éllÉ §poreÊyhsan Ùp¤sv t«n érest«n t∞w kard¤aw aÈt«n t∞w kak∞w
‘but they went after the pleasing things of their evil heart’
The Greek translation is based on the equivalence rvy—érest-, occurring often in the LXX (Exod 15.26; Deut 6.18; 12.8, 25, 28; etc.). The same rendering recurs in Jer 16.12; 18.12.30 Jer 15.11 K
(˚ytyrv Q) ˚twrv al μa ‘I have surely set you free’ (K) kateuyunÒntvn aÈt«n
‘while they succeed’
The verb kateuyÊnv often renders words from the root rùùvy (Ps 5.8; Prov 1.3; 9.15; etc.). 3. Some Conclusions The data adduced in this paper illustrate several aspects of the translators’ etymological exegesis, especially their turning to clusters of two letters that provide the minimal information needed for semantic identification. This technique was invoked in the case of several weak verbs as well as a few strong verbs, but it is hard to know how widespread this procedure was since it comes to light only from the recognition of occasional errors in identification. The cases illustrated here show that for some verbs a cluster of two letters could suffice for semantic identification, but if that cluster was the key for two different verbs, mishaps could occur as in the case of ar pointing to both hùùar and aùùry. Renderings of this type do not necessitate the assumption that the translators adhered to a biliteral root theory.31 Nor is there sufficient 30 For the same etymological derivation, see Sym in Jer 11.8, éreske¤a; Th in Jer 11.8; 13.10, eÈyÊthw. 31 Besides, the translators created identical meanings for different roots, while at the root of biliteral exegesis lies the assumption of different, though slightly similar, Hebrew roots sharing two of the three consonants, such as, dùùrp, jùùlp, gùùlp, rùùrp, hùùrp, xùùrp, sùùrp, çùùrp.
biliteral exegesis of hebrew roots in the septuagint? 479 evidence for assuming that the translators’ Hebrew ‘word-analysis’ was influenced by a comparison with the Greek verbal system, as analysed by Alexandrian grammarians.32 These renderings probably reflect unsystematic ad hoc exegesis in the identification process. The translators experienced many difficulties in analyzing Hebrew forms, so that by necessity they sometimes turned to improvisations. Similar improvisations are visible in the renderings described in n. 3 as well as some partial translations. (Sometimes some of the letters of the word in the Vorlage were disregarded in the translation because the translator did not know how to render them.)33 The assumption that the translators based themselves on the close relationship between certain roots may be supported by the way this closeness was regarded in Scripture itself. Some biblical authors ‘played on’ these related roots.34 Thus two prophets ( Jer 8.13; Zeph 1.2) skilfully combined πùùws and πùùsa (see above) as well as bùùwç and bùùçy ( Jer 42.10, wbçt bwç), etc. The close proximity between the weak verbs sometimes created a mixture of verbal forms that was part and parcel of biblical Hebrew (BH). Thus yùùp forms were sometimes mixed with ywùù[ (for example, bùùwf/bùùfy), nùùp forms with ywùù[ (≈ùùwp/≈ùùpn, lùùwm next to lùùmn/lùùlm, Gen 17.11), [ùù[ forms with ywùù[ (for example, çùùçm/çùùwm), and verbs aùùl with hùùl.35 As a result, the school-type distinction between the verb patterns often can no longer be upheld. Thus tçbwh in 2 Sam 19.6 (and elsewhere) reflects çùùwb, not çùùby, rightly translated as ‘you have
32 Thus Weissert (see n. 20). This attractive theory would be even more attractive if it could be proven that the translators compared Hebrew linguistic phenomena with equivalent Greek features in other aspects also. The theory assumes sophistication from the side of the translators, whereas perhaps ignorance and lack of experience guided their actions. (See the examples in this paper and see my paper quoted in n. 2.) Further, Weissert’s assumed rules of analogy used in the various translation units in the LXX are problematic as they presuppose either unity of translation or constant interaction between the translators. 33 Beyond the examples in n. 3, see mishpetayim in Judg 5.16, which is explained as sapah and ßa'ßu'im in 2 Chron 3.10 from two letters only ('eß). See Tov, TextCritical Use, chapter 5. 34 The phrase is used by A. Sperber, A Historical Grammar of Biblical Hebrew (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1966), p. 596, who provided many examples, not all of them relevant. 35 See GKC §75qq-rr and Ezek 8.3, hnqmh hanqh (lms), quoted above (where the second word, formally reflecting hùùnq, carries the meaning of aùù nq). In fact, according to Sperber, Hebrew Grammar, p. 595, these two patterns form one rather than two groups.
480
emanuel tov
humiliated’ in the translations, including the LXX.36 All these phenomena are recorded in the lexicons and grammars.37 These developments were accelerated in MH, resulting in greater contamination. There are new ywùù[ forms next to yùùp (for example, qùùwn/qùùny, ≈ùùwq/≈ùùqy), there are new instances of [ùù[ forms next to yùùw[ (for example, lùùwz/lùùlz), and there is additional assimilation between aùùl and hùùl forms. All these phenomena are well illustrated in the grammars.38 Since mixture and confusion between various word patterns frequently took place in BH and MH, it is not surprising that similar manuscript variations were created in all periods. Some of these manuscript variations were mentioned above, occasionally coinciding with the LXX. Thus, for Isa 50.2 (μym ˆyam μtgd) vabt, the reading of the LXX ka‹ jhranyÆsontai may be based on 1QIsaa çbyt. The interchanges between MT hpsaw/1QIsaa hpsyw in Isa 37.31 and between MT Hab 1.15 whpsayw (‘he gathered them’)/1QpHab V 14 whpsyw parallel the yùùp/aùùp interchanges between the LXX and MT recorded above (ps group). In addition, the detailed description by Kutscher of 1QIsaa provides ample illustration of the interchanges of weak verbal forms between MT and the scroll unrelated to the LXX (e.g., lùùjy/lùùjn, rùùws/rùùsy, hùùrs/rùùrs).39 The translators may have been aware of these phenomena and developments in earlier times as well as in their own times. However, we should be very careful not to ascribe refined grammatical understanding to the translators, since lack of linguistic understanding is widespread. Furthermore, there is a very basic difference between the translators’ exegesis and the developments taking place in the Hebrew language. The developments within the language took place in a natural way, without distorting the message of the texts or the
36 Likewise, in 2 Sam 6.1 πsyw, what looks like a yùùp form actually represents πsayw through the omission of the quiescent aleph, and reversely in Exod 5.7 where what appears to be a aùùp form ttl ˆwpsat al actually represents ˆwpswt. 37
See, for example, GKC. See M. H. Segal, A Grammar of Mishnaic Hebrew (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1927), §§185, 189; G. Haneman, The Morphology of Mishnaic Hebrew According to the Tradition of the Parma Ms. (De-Rossi No. 138) (Texts and Studies in the Hebrew Language and Related Subjects, 3; Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University, 1980), especially pp. 422–31. 39 Kutscher, Isaiah Scroll, pp. 265, 268, 269, respectively, for the examples. 38
biliteral exegesis of hebrew roots in the septuagint? 481 meanings of words. Thus when a aùùl form was represented in Ezek 8.3 as a hùùl form (hnqmh hanqh lms), it nevertheless carried the meaning of aùùnq; the author produced the word and the reader probably understood. However, when the LXX of Isa 11.11 rendered twnql according to the aùùl pattern, he created a completely different meaning and context.40 It would therefore be hard to describe this development as natural, and would probably be closer to the truth to consider this and most of the renderings recorded here as reflecting lack of linguistic refinement.41 We therefore noted sometimes that the translator created a completely new context. In sum, the LXX translators, as other biblical translators in antiquity,42 often turned to a cluster of two letters providing sufficient information for the translation process, especially in weak verbal forms. This approach was borne out of the translators’ difficulties in identifying words, rather than any biliteral theory.43 Such a theory
40 Therefore, in his summarising remarks on the interchanges between roots in MT and 1QIsaa, Kutscher, Isaiah Scroll, pp. 296–315, probably reads too much into the external similarities between this scroll and the versions: ‘. . . the Versions make use of the same methods as the Scr.’ (p. 306); ‘In all these instances, the exegesis of one or another of the medieval Jewish commentators—who of course read = MT—is in accord with the “emendation” of the versions and the Scr.’s reading’ (p. 306); ‘Actually, the Versions are of great value to us for a different reason: they help us to understand what the Scr.’s scribe had in mind when he changed the text’ (p. 308). 41 At the same time, some of the renderings may have been influenced by phonetic developments, as in the cases of ps, rg, and mn (a suggestion given by N. Mizrahi). 42 For some examples from the Targumim, see L. Prijs, Jüdische Tradition in der Septuaginta (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1948), p. 83, n. 3. For the Peshitta, see H. Heller, Untersuchungen über die Peschîttâ: zur gesamten hebräischen Bibel (Berlin: M. Poppelauer, 1911), pp. 45–47. 43 Another view was espoused by G. R. Driver, ‘Confused Hebrew Roots’, in B. Schindler (ed.), Occident and Orient: Being Studies in Semitic Philology and Literature, Jewish History and Philosophy and Folklore in the Widest Sense, in Honour of Haham Dr. M. Gaster’s 80th Birthday (London: Taylor’s Foreign Press, 1936), pp. 73–83. According to Driver, it was not the translator who sometimes mistakenly derived a verbal form from a closely related root, but the roots themselves were closely related. Thus Driver believes that lùùba, ‘was dried up, mourned’, lùùbn, ‘dropped, faded, languished’, and perhaps also hùùlb, ‘was worn out, wasted away’, were ‘cognate roots developed from bl as a common base’ (p. 75), as, e.g., in Jer 12.4, bç[w ≈rah lbat ytm d[ çbyy hdçh lk, where lùùba should be taken as ‘was dried up’ as in T bwrjt. According to Driver, this claim is supported by the versions, in which, in another instance, forms of μùùça are rendered as if from μùùmç (see the examples above), both deriving from a common root μùùça = μùùmç. Regardless of the merits of Driver’s speculation, support from the versions is very questionable.
482
emanuel tov
was developed much later by some medieval Jewish grammarians,44 and revived in the scholarly literature from the eighteenth century onwards.45
44 Menahem Ibn Saruq (tenth century) and Judah ben David Hayyuj (c. 945–1000). In the prologue to his lexicon, the Mahberet, Menahem Ibn Saruq developed the theory that all triliteral roots were ultimately biliteral, even uniliteral. See the editions of H. Filipowskius, Antiquissimum linguae hebraicae et chaldaecae lexicon ad sacras scripturas explicandas A Menahem Ben Saruck hispaniensis . . . (London: Typis H. Filipowskius, 1854) and A. Sáenz Badillos, Mahberet/Menahem Ben Saruq: edición crítica (Granada: Universidad de Granada, 1986); see also Y. Blau, ‘Menahem ben Jacob Ibn Saruq’, in C. Roth (ed.), Encyclopaedia Judaica (16 vols; Jerusalem: Keter Publishing House, 1971), 11:1305–1306. 45 For an analysis and bibliography, see S. Moscati, ‘Il biconsonantismo nelle lingue semitiche’, Bib 28 (1947), pp. 113–35; G. J. Botterweck, Der Triliterismus im Semitischen: erläutert an den Wurzeln GL KL KL (BBB, 3; Bonn: Peter Hanstein Verlag, 1952), pp. 11–30; S. Moscati (ed.), An Introduction to the Comparative Grammar of the Semitic Languages: Phonology and Morphology (Porta linguarum orientalium, N.S. 6; Wiesbaden: O. Harrassowitz, 1969), pp. 72–75. See further GKC §30f-o.
KINGS (MT/LXX) AND CHRONICLES: THE DOUBLE AND TRIPLE TEXTUAL TRADITION1 Julio Trebolle The present paper re-examines the book by Graeme Auld Kings without Privilege. It is a tribute to the author for his valuable contribution to the study of the historical books of the Hebrew and Greek Bible.2 Auld advances a new model of analysis of the relationships between the books of Samuel–Kings and Chronicles. Against the traditional theory, according to which Chronicles is a re-elaboration of Samuel–Kings, Auld proposes that these two groups of books constitute two literary developments of a previous ‘source’. The books of Samuel–Kings, like those of Chronicles, are also a ‘commentary’ on this common source. The text shared by Samuel–Kings and Chronicles presents a clear and coherent structure. The common source consisted of the two stories of Solomon’s visions, the templespeech and a brief account of its building. The ‘supplementary’ material added to Kings underscores the political aspects of Solomon’s reign and at the same time criticises the figure of a king who was unworthy of his father, David. Auld positions himself against the common opinion, according to which Chronicles suppressed this ‘supplementary’ material in order to clean Solomon’s image which appeared tainted in the book of Kings. 1. The Mention of Moses in 1 Kgs 8.9//2 Chron 5.10; 2 Kgs 14.6//2 Chron 25.4; and 2 Kgs 21.8//2 Chron 33.8 The first part of this paper alludes to the subtitle of the book, David and Moses in the Story of the Bible’s Kings. From the 3rd century bce to the 1st century ce the Hebrew Old Testament text was in a
1 I thank Dr Andrés Piquer (Berkeley) for the English translation of the original Spanish text. 2 A. G. Auld, Kings without Privilege: David and Moses in the Story of the Bible’s Kings (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994).
484
julio trebolle
situation of textual fluidity, propitious to textual emendations,3 especially as they are related to the different polemics between Jewish groups, or in the midst of the multiple exegetical tendencies and interpretations. The study of the transmission of the biblical text has to be carried out in connection with the history of the Jewish religion.4 Thus, one can speak of a process of ‘Mosaitisation’ and also of ‘Davitisation’, characteristic of the late redaction level of the Psalter.5 The Hebrew text of 1–2 Kings underwent a similar process, as the analysis of 1 Kgs 8.9; 2 Kgs 14.6 and 21.8; 1 Kgs 2.4 and 8.23–26 indicate.6 All of them show a growing number of references to Moses and, to a lesser extent, to David, in the literary and textual tradition of Samuel–Kings and Chronicles. They also show a tendency of the latest biblical tradition to insert references or quotations taken from the book of Deuteronomy. To analyse adequately the phenomena which belong to the editorial phase of the book of Kings one must use a combination of textual criticism and literary criticism. (1) In 1 Kgs 8.9 (//2 Chron 5.10) an addition in the Old Greek, ‘the tablets of the Covenant’, and a possible ellipsis of the term ‘a covenant’ of the MT seem to be the only textual difficulties: ‘There was nothing in the ark except the two tablets of stone [LXX + the tablets of the Covenant] that Moses had placed there at Horeb, where the Lord made a covenant with the Israelites’ (nrsv). The plus of the Greek version, ‘the tablets of the Covenant’ (plãkew t∞w diayÆkhw), corresponds to a Hebrew reading, tyrbh twjl, which 3 E. Tov, ‘Correction Procedures in the Texts from the Judean Desert’, in D. W. Parry and E. Ulrich (eds.), The Provo International Conference on the Dead Sea Scrolls: Technological Innovations, New Texts and Reformulated Issues (STDJ, 30; Leiden: Brill, 1999), pp. 232–63. 4 A. Rofé, ‘The History of Israelite Religion and the Biblical Text: Corrections Due to the Unification of Worship’, in S. M. Paul, R. A. Kraft, L. H. Schiffman and W. W. Fields (eds.), Emanuel: Studies in Hebrew Bible, Septuagint and Dead Sea Scrolls in Honor of Emanuel Tov (VTSup, 94; Leiden: Brill, 2003), pp. 759–93. 5 E. Zenger, ‘Der Psalter im Horizont von Tora und Prophetie. Kanongeschichtliche und Kanonhermeneutische Perspektiven’, in J.-M. Auwers and H. J. De Jonge (eds.), The Biblical Canons (BETL, 163; Leuven: Peeters and Leuven University Press, 2003), pp. 111–34 (129). 6 M. Fishbane speaks of nomicisation through the interpolation of ‘Torahistic’ values, precepts, or regulations, as in Josh 1.6–9 and 1 Kgs 2.2–4, or frequently in Chronicles (e.g., 1 Chron 15.12–15 or 2 Chron 12.1), in M. Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985), p. 426. Similarly, on nomicising revisions in the LXX at 1 Kgs 18.45b, 20.16, and 21.27–9, see D. W. Gooding, ‘Ahab According to the Septuagint’, ZAW 76 (1964), pp. 269–80.
kings (mt⁄ lxx) and chronicles
485
forms a double reading together with the preceding μynbah twjl, ‘the tablets of stone’: tyrbh twjl μynbah twjl. The successive editions of Biblia Hebraica indicate that tyrbh twjl is to be read after v. 9a. But, according to the Preliminary and Interim Report on the Hebrew Old Testament Text Project, this indication has led many authors into error, as if the words ‘the tablets of the Covenant’, placed before the second relative rça, belonged to the Hebrew Vorlage of LXX.7 The double reading tyrbh twjl μynbah twjl corresponds to the double relative pronoun rça . . . rça. The articulation between these elements and, especially, between the second relative and its antecedent is, according to Burney and Barthélemy, ‘vague’ and ‘lâche’.8 The fact seems to be that MT and LXX reproduce in two different ways an interpolation in the text. MT and the Vorlage of the LXX of Kings could reflect two different and juxtaposed readings: ‘the stone tablets which Moses deposited . . .’ and ‘the tablets of the Covenant, which Yahweh established . . .’. The second reading is a quotation of Deut 9.9: μkm[ hwhy trk rça tyrbh tjwl μynbah tjwl tjql, which refers to ‘two’ tablets (v. 10), as it is also noted in 1 Kgs 8.9. The reference to Moses in the first relative ‘which Moses deposited there in Horeb’ (brjb hçm μç jnh rça) constitutes a gloss and at the same time a new quotation or allusion to Deut 10.5: ‘I deposited the tablets in the ark which I made and there they still stay’ (μç wyhyw ytyç[ rça ˆwrab tjlh ta μçaw). In contrast with the verb used in Deut 10.5, μyç, the verb in 1 Kgs 8.9, jwn, shows traces of secondariness. The new quotation intends to indicate that the tablets were in the ark still in the time of Solomon and while the Solomonic temple endured. The presence of the locative μç in Kings, missing in Chronicles but to restore with LXX and Targum,9 confers into the gloss a stronger mark of quotation of Deut 10.5. In sum, the presence of ‘Moses’ in 1 Kgs 8.9//2 Chron 5.10 belongs to what seems to be a gloss, consisting of a reference to Deut 10.5.
7 D. Barthélemy (ed.), Critique textuelle de l’Ancien Testament, 1. Josué, Juges, Ruth, Samuel, Rois, Chroniques, Esdras, Néhémie, Esther (OBO, 50/1; Fribourg: Éditions Universitaires; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1982), p. 349. 8 C. F. Burney, Notes on the Hebrew Text of the Books of Kings (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1903), p. 109. 9 W. Rudolph, Chronikbücher (HAT, 21; Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1955), p. 211.
486
julio trebolle
(2) 2 Kgs 14.6 and its parallel in 2 Chron 25.4 relate that, after putting to death those who had made an attempt against his father, Amaziah of Judah did not extend his revenge to the rebels’ children, ‘according to what is written in the Book of the Law of Moses, where the Lord commanded, “The parents shall not be put to death for the children, or the children be put to death for the parents”’ (nrsv). The Hebrew text does not seem to pose any text-critical difficulties. Nevertheless, a comparison between the MT and the LXX together with the Chronicles parallel offers meaningful data. The text of Chronicles adds yk before bwtkk, what is usually considered as a probable case of dittography.10 The Greek text of Kings presents kay≈w as corresponding to k and presents again …w instead of the Hebrew relative pronoun rça as if in fact it were reading rçak. The repetition kay≈w . . . …w . . . = . . . yk . . . yk lets one suppose that we are before a case of resumptive formula (Wiederaufnahme), caused by the insertion of a gloss. The text of this gloss corresponds to the formula which introduces a biblical quotation: ‘according to what is written in the Book of the Law of Moses’. The presence in Chronicles of the particle yk, which authors explain away as a mere dittography given that no function can be found for it, would confirm the fact that an insertion in the text has taken place. This particle is the leftover from a previous text, free of the gloss: ‘he did not put them to death, according to what Yahweh commanded, saying . . .’ (hwx rçak tymh al). The present text seems to be laden with formulae to introduce a biblical citation: hwx rçak, bwtkk and rmal.11 The Greek text of Chronicles operates through an even larger accumulation of formulae: ka‹ toÁw ufloÁw aÈt«n oÈk ép°kteinen katå tØn diayÆkhn toË nÒmou kur¤ou kayΔw g°graptai (+ LXXL §n nÒmƒ Moush) …w §nete¤lato kÊriow l°gvn. (3) 2 Kgs 21.8b//2 Chron 33.8 offers a new case of double reading, only detectable through a comparison with the Antiochene Greek text of Kings. The MT reads: ‘I will not cause the feet of Israel to wander any more out of the land that I gave to their ancestors, if only they will be careful to do according to all that I have commanded them, and according to all the law that my servant Moses commanded them’ (nrsv).
10
Rudolph, Chronikbücher, p. 278. See Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation, p. 106, on the relationship between 2 Kgs 14.5–6 and Deut 24.16, cf. p. 341. 11
kings (mt⁄ lxx) and chronicles LXXL Kings
LXXB Kings
plØn §ån
˜itinew
ékoÊsvsi
fulãjousin
katå pãnta ì
pãnta ˜sa
§neteilãmhn aÈto›w
§neteilãmhn
MT Kings
487 MT Chronicles
qr μa
qr μa
wrmçy twç[l
wrmçy twç[l
rça lkk μytywx
rça lk ta μytywx
w
ka‹ fulãjvntai
lkl hrwth
katå pãnta
katå pasçn
tÚn nÒmon
tØn §ntolÆn
˘n
∂n
rça
§nete¤lato
§nete¤lato
hwx μta
aÈto›w ı pa›w mou
ı doËlÒw mou
Mvs∞w
Mous∞w
ydb[ hçm
lkl hrwth μyqjhw μyfpçmhw
dyb hçm
The MT verb wrmçy corresponds to the LXXB (kaige text) fulãjousin. The Old Greek, as attested by the proto-Lucianic reading ékoÊsvsi (OL audierunt), knew a Hebrew w[mçy in accordance with w[mç alw (v. 9a). The Antiochene text offers afterwards ka‹ fulãjvntai, which opens a new sentence. Other differences between the Massoretic, mainstream Greek and Antiochene Greek are not pertinent to this discussion. Amongst them it is to be underscored that MT twç[l has no correspondence in the versions (except for Hexaplaric readings). Also, the MT particle (lk)k, ignored by LXXB pãnta ˜sa . . . is translated in LXXL as katå pãnta ë; the MT conjunction (lkl)w is unknown in LXXB; the Antiochene Greek presents this conjunction before the verb, ka‹ fulãjvntai. The fact that Chronicles omits the conjunction (which precedes lkl) may be added evidence on how here an abrupt juxtaposition of two independent expressions has been conducted. The disparity between variants does not allow for a detailed reconstruction of the underlying texts. However, it is possible
488
julio trebolle
to identify two juxtaposed readings, the second of which seems to be secondary: (a) w[mç alw [. . .] μytywx rça lk (ta) w[mçy μa qr (‘only if they will hear all that I commanded them . . ., and did not hear’). (b) hçm ydb[ μta hwx rça hrwth lkk wrmçyw (‘and they will observe the whole Teaching that commanded them my servant Moses’).
The secondary sentence is exactly that which refers to the Law and to Moses. The juxtaposition of 1st person (ytywx) and 3rd person (hwx, with Moses as the subject) references, stresses the composite character of the text and reminds one of the Temple Scroll which attributes directly to Yahweh discourses that the canonical Pentateuch puts in the mouth of Moses. (4) In 1 Kgs 2.4 BHS indicates the omission of the second rmal in the Antiochene text and in the Vulgate, as well as in a medieval Hebrew manuscript. It suggests that this second rmal must therefore be omitted. Nevertheless, the reading of MT and of many witnesses of the LXX preserve here a remarkable editorial element: the expression which often introduces a quotation or biblical reference. The repetition of the expression rmal corresponds with the biblical quotation which is introduced by each of them: ‘with the aim that Yahweh keeps the word he pronounced about me, saying (1) “If your children keep their way, walking loyally in my presence, with all their heart and all their soul”, saying (2) “You shall not be deprived of a male upon the throne of Israel”’. The first quotation corresponds to Deut 6.5; the second constitutes a generic reference, but, clear, to 2 Samuel 7 (cf. v. 25). The first quotation, taken from Deut 6.5, also appears in 2 Kgs 23.25, without any formula or other introductory expression, but together with the concluding reference ‘according to Moses’ Torah’. All of it constitutes an interpolation which has dissociated the correlative elements within the sentence: ‘Before him there was not such a king, and none like him came after him’. Würthwein attributes the whole v. 25 to the Deuteronomistic redactor of the last period, known as the ‘nomist’ (DtrN).12 The reference to Deut 6.5 and the formula hçm trwt lkk seem to answer, nevertheless, to the intervention of an editor in a period later than that of the Deuteronomistic 12 E. Würthwein, Die Bücher der Könige: 1. Kön. 17–2. Kön 25 (ATD, 11/2; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1984), p. 461.
kings (mt⁄ lxx) and chronicles
489
redaction. Similar references to Moses’ Torah appear in 1 Kgs 2.3a and in Josh. 1.7, whose discussion will not be treated here. The expression in 1 Kgs 2.4, which introduces both quotations from Deut 6.5 and 2 Samuel 7 also appears in 1 Kgs 8.25 as the introduction and closing of a double quotation, similar to that in 1 Kgs 2.4. (5) The Hebrew and Greek textual tradition of 1 Kgs 8.23–26 is extremely complex. According to MT, Solomon addresses Yahweh in these terms: ‘(23) [Yahweh, God of Israel] . . ., (24) who have kept for your servant David, my father, what you had told him; you spoke through your mouth and with your hand you have fulfilled [it], as today. (25) Now, so, Yahweh, God of Israel, keep for your servant David, my father, what you told him, saying: “You will not be deprived of a male . . .”. (26) Now thus, (Yahweh), God of Israel, confirm, please, your word, that which you told to your servant David, my father . . .’. LXX omits the words from v. 24a wl trbd rça ta, ‘what you had told him’.13 These same words reappear in v. 25a. The repetition has in fact deeper consequences. It encompasses the whole sentence: ‘keep for your servant David my father what you had told him’ (wl trbd rça ta yba dwd ˚db[l rmç/trmç). The MT also offers other repetitions. In v. 26 there is a phrase similar to that previously mentioned, with just a simple word-order inversion: ‘that which you had told to your servant David, my father’ (yba dwd ˚db[l trbd rça). LXX does not know anything of it except the reference to t“ Dauid t“ patr¤ mou. In addition, the opening expression in v. 25, which indicates a transition in discourse, ‘Now, then, Yahweh, God of Israel . . .’ (ht[w larçy yhla hwhy), appears again in the beginning of v. 26. Also the sentence of MT v. 23b opens with the verb rmç in participle form, the same which appears in v. 25aa as an imperative. MT and LXX present, also, meaningful differences in the text of vv. 23b and 24a.
13
According to Stade, the clause omitted in LXX is indispensable for the text. Cf. B. Stade et al., The Books of Kings: Critical Edition of the Hebrew Text Printed in Colors Exhibiting the Composite Structure of the Books (The Sacred Books of the Old Testament, 9; Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs; Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1904), p. 104. The omission probably took place, according to Montgomery, ‘through mistranslation of rça I° with ë’. Cf. J. A. Montgomery and H. S. Gehman, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Books of Kings (ICC; Edinburgh, T. & T. Clark, 1951), p. 202.
490
julio trebolle
MT speaks in plural of ‘your servants, which walk before you with a whole heart’. Conversely, LXX refers in the singular to ‘your servant which walks before Me with a whole heart’. Also, MT and LXX make the same reference to ‘your servant David, my father’ (v. 24a). The transition between vv. 23b and 24a is made in different ways in each text. MT connects the relative rça to Yahweh. In contrast, in LXX the relative does not represent the subject of the phrase, but its object (ì §lãlhsaw), as if it were reading rça ta. This is connected to the reading and omission of the words wl trbd rça ta. These constitute in MT the object or complement of the sentence. In LXX they are completely unnecessary in the position they take. The sentence in MT v. 24a applies to David the general statement already established in the previous sentence (v. 23b). In LXX both sentences merely repeat the same idea, without the latter contributing anything new beyond the former. It is possible to ask whether LXXB constitutes here the text of the Old Greek. The Antiochene Greek exhibits meaningful variants. In v. 23b it adds Dauid t“ patr¤ mou, which anticipates the reading in v. 24a yba dwd ˚db[l, but here LXXL omits t“ doÊl“ sou. Furthermore, it offers the reading §lãlhsaw, which cannot but correspond to trbd rça ta, as the correspondence between the Greek and Hebrew texts in v. 25aa demonstrates. The Antiochene text seems to have known the MT reading wl trbd rça ta (v. 24a). In order to shed some light on these tangled texts it is necessary to identify the fundamental elements which constitute this passage. These elements are the same as those found in 1 Kgs 2.4: (a) A formula which makes reference to what Yahweh said and its expected fulfilment: v. 25a, ‘keep for your servant, David, my father, what you told him’ (wl trbd rça yba dwd ˚db[l rmç), repeated under a very similar formulation in v. 24a, ‘that you have kept for your servant, David, my father, what you had told him’ (˚db[l trmç wl trbd rça ta yba dwd). These references correspond with 1 Kgs 2.4. (b) An expression which introduces one or more quotations: v. 25, rmal. (c) A first quotation, alluding to David’s offspring: v. 25, ‘You shall not be deprived of a male which sits in my presence on the throne of Israel’, larçy ask l[ bçy ynplm çya ˚l trky al. This quotation is parallel to that in 1 Kgs 2.4: larçy ask l[m çya ˚l trky al. (d) A second quotation, relative to the rightful walking before Yahweh as a condition for the fulfilment of what Yahweh said:
kings (mt⁄ lxx) and chronicles
491
v. 25b, ‘as long as your children keep their way walking in my presence like you walked before me’, ynpl tkll μkrd ta ˚ynb wrmçy μa ynpl tklh rçak. This reference is parallel to the quotation of Deut 6.5 in 1 Kgs 2.4: μbbl lkb tmab ynpl tkll μkrd ta ˚ynb wrmçy μa μçpn lkbw. Some elements from this quotation also appear in v. 23b, in the words wbl lkb ˚ynpl ˚lhh, ‘who walks (plural in the MT) before you with a whole heart (plural in the MT)’. If it were not already clear enough how these words constitute or repeat a quotation like that in v. 25b, the Antiochene Greek text shows here the more complete expression §n élhye¤& (§n ˜lª kard¤& aÈtoË), which matches exactly the quotation in 1 Kgs 2.4 (in singular, not in plural, as in MT). These words in v. 23b are interpolated between others which belong to the first element amongst the four which constitute this passage: rça wbl lkbw tmab ˚ynpl ˚lhh ˚db[l dshhw tyrbh rmç wl rbd rça ta ˚db[l rmç. It is possible that before the interpolation of the words ‘who walks before you (in truth and) with his whole heart’, the original contiguous text of vv. 23–25 was ‘Yahweh, God of Israel . . ., who keeps the Covenant and the grace for your servant David, my father, according to what you told him’. The continuation in v. 24b insists on the fulfilment of what Yahweh said ‘as in this day’. 1 Kgs 2.4 and 8.23–26 also juxtapose two references or citations from Deut 6.5 and 2 Samuel 7. Without David’s or Moses’ name appearing in one or the other case, it is easy to appreciate that the literary and textual traditions point towards a progressive increase in the references to passages allusive to David and Moses. In conclusion, the mention of Moses which appears in the three passages from the text shared by Kings and Chronicles (1 Kgs 8.9// 2 Chron 5.10; 2 Kgs 14.6//2 Chron 25.4; and 2 Kgs 21.8//2 Chron 33.8) belongs to elements incorporated at a late stage in the editorial process of the book of Kings. The incorporation of such elements into the text has left traces in the textual transmission itself. This phenomenon is to be related to Qumran citation formulas in which the name of a book is substituted with Moses’ or David’s name, for example, ‘as David said’ (Catenaa [4Q177] 12–13+15+19.7), ‘and Moses said’ (CD v. 8), ‘[whic]h Moses spoke’ (Ordinancesa [4Q159] 5.3), or ‘as You spoke by the hand of Moses, saying’ (1QM x.6).14 14 M. Bernstein, ‘Scriptures: Quotation and Use’, in L. H. Schiffman and J. C. VanderKam (eds.), Encyclopedia of the Dead Sea Scrolls (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), pp. 839–42.
492
julio trebolle
Also, CD 6.3 introduces the citation Num 21.18 with the words ‘as Moses said’ though this formula is omitted in the CD version of 4Q266 3 ii 19 and 4Q267 2 9, as well as in the Cairo Genizah text. The ‘Words of the Heavenly Luminaries’ (4Q504 1 iii 12–13) speaks of punishments ‘of which Moses and your servants the prophets wrote’; in this case, however, no quotation is given. Also without a specific citation, 4Q266 18 v. 6 (a CD fragment = 4Q270 11 i 20) refers to ‘all the statutes found in the Torah of Moses’. The Apocryphon of Moses C (4Q377 2 ii 2) refers to matters learned ‘in the statutes of Moses’. The more usual expression ‘in the book of Moses’ (hçm rpsb) is used several times in the halakhic letter (4QMMT, C 11 = 4Q398 frag. 1 5) and in the Florilegium text (4Q174) introducing Exod 15.17–18.15 2. The Composition of the Solomon Narrative: 1 Kings 3–10 MT/LXX and 2 Chronicles 1–9 Auld establishes the Shared Text of Kings and Chronicles through a synoptic comparison of the sequence of the literary units which integrate those two works. Nevertheless, a more detailed comparison has to be performed on the basis of the text of LXX 3 Kingdoms which preserves in its main text the oldest available layout of the text of Kings. Chronicles knew a text of Samuel–Kings different from that of the MT in these books and similar to that attested by 4QSama (4Q51), the Old Greek, the Old Latin and Josephus (Cross, Ulrich).16 The Greek translation of Chronicles (Paraleipomena) reflects this textual tradition. Therefore, variants that were ascribed to the author(s) of Chronicles, particularly historical or theological changes, are rather to be explained as elements proper to the textual tradition of Samuel– Kings represented by the LXX. A case in point is that of the order of the text after 1 Kgs 10.26 where LXX immediately places the text which corresponds with MT 15
J. E. Bowley, ‘Moses in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Living in the Shadow of God’s Anointed’, in P. W. Flint (ed.), The Bible at Qumran: Text, Shape, and Interpretation (Studies in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), pp. 159–81. 16 F. M. Cross, ‘The Fixation of the Text of the Hebrew Bible’, From Epic to Canon: History and Literature in Ancient Israel (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1998), pp. 206–18, esp. 214; E. Ulrich, The Qumran Text of Samuel and Josephus (HSM, 19; Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1978).
kings (mt⁄ lxx) and chronicles
493
5.1. 2 Chronicles (9.25–26) presents the same order of materials as LXX 3 Kingdoms (10.26; 5.1). 2 Chronicles and LXX 3 Kingdoms also coincide in not knowing the MT addition at the beginning of 10.26 (μyçrpw bkr hmlç πsayw). In 5.1a17 the reading of Chronicles, μyklmh lkb, coincides with that of LXX 3 Kingdoms in the same location (5.1 after 10.26), pãntvn t«n basil°vn, and also with that of LXX 2.46k, §n pçsin to›w basileËsin, against MT 5.1, twklmmh lkb, which coincides with LXX 2.46b. The half verse 5.1b appears only in MT, a text which coincides with the supplement of LXX 2.46b: wyyj ymy lk hmlç ta μydb[w hjnm μyçgm = prosf°rontew d«ra ka‹ §doÊleuon t“ Salvmvn pãsaw tåw ≤m°raw t∞w zv∞w aÈtoË. The text of LXX 3 Kingdoms represents an older textual form than that which was transmitted by MT Kings and Chronicles. Proof of this is that it does not include additions of Chronicles which have made their way into MT Kings, like those present in 1 Kgs 8.1–6. The LXX version reflects a Hebrew text of Kings which did not know such influence of Chronicles.18 Orlinsky’s statement is not restricted to the glosses from Chronicles: ‘. . . wherever the Masoretic text has an excess over the LXX, it is most frequently the former that underwent expansion in post-LXX days, rather than a case of contraction in the latter’.19 The text represented by LXX Kingdoms is closer to this common source than MT Kings and Chronicles. Without going into detail, the text of 1 Kings 3–10//2 Chronicles 1–9, which has been the subject of recent studies, is analysed below.20 17 1 Kgs 5.1a appears at the same time in bold and italics (cf. following table), as it appears in LXX after 10.26, where it has a parallel in 2 Chron 9.26. 18 Cf. Montgomery and Gehman, Books of Kings, p. 185; J. Gray, I and II Kings (OTL; Philadelphia: Westminster Press; London: SCM Press, 2nd edn, 1970), p. 43. Similarly, G. Braulik, ‘Spuren einer Neubearbeitung des deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerkes in 1 Kön 8,52–53.59–60’, Bib 52 (1971), pp. 20–33. M. Noth was sceptical regarding such a conclusion on the literary level based on the shorter text of LXX (Könige [BKAT, 9/1; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1968], pp. 171, 174). 19 H. M. Orlinsky, ‘The Kings-Isaiah Recensions of the Hezekiah Story’, JQR 30 (1939–1940), pp. 33–49 (40). 20 F. H. Polak, ‘The Septuagint Account of Solomon’s Reign: Revision and Ancient Recension’, in B. A. Taylor (ed.), X Congress of the International Organization for Septuagint and Cognate Studies, Oslo, 1998 (Septuagint and Cognate Studies Series, 51; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2001), pp. 139–64; A. Schenker, Septante et texte massorétique dans l’histoire la plus ancienne du texte de 1 Rois 2–14 (CahRB, 48; Paris: J. Gabalda, 2000); Z. Talshir, ‘The Reign of Solomon in the Making: PseudoConnections between 3 Kingdoms and Chronicles’, VT 50 (2000), pp. 233–49; P. S. F. van Keulen, Two Versions of the Solomon Narrative: An Inquiry into the Relationship between MT 1 Kgs. 2–11 and LXX 3 Reg. 2–11 (VTSup, 104; Leiden: Brill, 2005).
julio trebolle
494
Within this material, four blocks of text can be distinguished, represented differently in each textual tradition. The first one is composed of the materials common to the three textual traditions. These common materials constitute the near totality of the text of 1 Kings 3–10//2 Chronicles 1–9 (bold texts). The second is formed by the passages common to LXX and MT Kings: the story of Solomon’s judgement (3.16–28), the lists of governors (4.1–6) and provinces (4.7–19) and the description of the palace (7.1–12), as well as other references to Solomon’s wisdom and to the temple (5.7–8; 5.9–10; 5.11–14; 5.28; 5.32b; 6.1a; 6.4–10) (underlined ). 2 Chronicles
LXX Kings Main Text
MT Kings
>
3.1a 3.1b 3.2–3 3.4–15 3.16–28 4.1 4.2–6 4.7–19 4.20 5.1a 5.1b 5.2–4 5.5 5.6=10.26 5.7–8
LXX Kings Supplement 2.46l
Bamot Vision 1 Judgement
1.3–13
List 1 List 2
3.2–3 3.4–15 3.16–28 4.1 4.2–6 4.7–19 >
9.26 Provisions
> 1.14; 9.25
Wisdom Pharaoh’s daughter Hiram Workmen
2.1–15 2.16 2.17
Temple
3.1–4
> > 5.7–8 5.2– 4 5.9–10 5.11–14 3.1b 9.16–17a 5.15–26 5.27 5.28 5.29–30 5.32b 6.1a > 5.31–32a 6.37–38a 6.2–3 6.4–10
5.9–10 5.11–14
2.35ca
(2.46l) (2.46h) 2.46a 2.46b*/k 2.46efga 2.46gb 2.46i 2.35a.b (2.35ca) (2.35i)
5.15–26 5.27 5.28 5.29–30 5.31–32a 5.32b 6.1a 6.1b 6.2–3 6.4–10
2.35d(h)
kings (mt⁄ lxx) and chronicles
495
Table (cont.) 2 Chronicles
3.4b–14*
LXX Kings Main Text > > 6.15–36 >
Palace Hiram Cultic objects
(2.12–13) 3.15–17* 4.1–5.2
Dedication Vision 2
5.3–7.10 7.11–22
Hiram Buildings and corvée
8.1–2
Pharaoh’s daughter Altar Fleet Sheba Wealth
Wisdom Chariots Silver Chariots
8.3–6* 8.6*–9 8.10 8.11 8.12 8.17–18 9.1–12 9.13–21
9.22–24 9.25/1.14 9.26 9.27/1.15 9.28*/1.16 1.17
7.13–14 7.15–21 7.22–51 7.1–12 ch. 8 9.1–9 9.24a 9.10–14
> > > 9.26–28 10.1–13 10.14–22 9.15a.b 9.17b–18 9.19 –22 10.23–25 10.26 5.1a 10.27 10.28 10.29
MT Kings 6.11–13 6.14 6.15–36 6.37–38a 6.38b 7.1–12 7.13–14 7.15–21.22 7.22–51
LXX Kings Supplement 2.35cb 2.35cb
ch. 8 9.1–9 9.10–14 9.15a 9.15b 9.16–17a 9.17b–18* 9.19–22 9.23 (5.30) 9.24a 9.24b 9.25 9.26–28 10.1–13 10.14–22
10.23–25 10.26 (5.6)
2.35k* 2.35i 2.35i 2.35h 2.35f 2.35f 2.35g
2.46i* 2.46k(46b)
10.27 10.28 10.29
As for the rest of the materials, some are also common to MT Kings/LXX 3 Kingdoms but with different placements in MT and LXX ( passages in italics): 3.1b; 5.1a; 5.2–4; 5.31–32a; 6.37–38a; 7.1–12; 9.15a.b; 9.16–17a; 9.17b–18*; 9.19–22; 9.24a. Of these, the following have correspondences with the text of the supplements: 31b = 2.35c; 5.1a = 2.46b*/k; 5.2–4 = 2.46efga; 9.15a = 2.35k*; 9.17b–18* = 2.35i; 9.24ª = 2.35f. The remaining have no correspondence in the supplements.
496
julio trebolle
Finally, some materials are exclusive to MT, with no match in the LXX: 3.1a; 4.20; 5.1b; 5.5; 5.6 (10.26); 6.1b; 6.11–13; 6.14; 6.38b; 9.23; 9.24b; 9.25. In my opinion, composition criticism is to be carried out before redaction criticism (Deuteronomistic or sapiential) and also before the analysis of the possible exegetical tendencies underlying MT or the Hebrew reflected by LXX. The study of the composition of the text is centred, on the one side, on the literary seams between the various units which integrate the composition and, on the other, in the correspondence between the materials of MT/LXX (main text) and that of the supplements of LXX (2.35a–k; 2.46a–l). The most stable and oldest textual tradition is that attested by the three textual traditions (texts in boldface). The texts common to LXX and MT Kings, missing in 2 Chronicles, are not necessarily more recent because of this. They can also be ancient, although of a different provenance (passages underlined and in italics). The texts of MT Kings absent from the main text of LXX 3 Kingdoms correspond in a large proportion with materials present in the supplements of LXX. Three sections can be differentiated in which these correspondences seem to concentrate: (1) The materials of MT in 4.20–5.6 correspond to those of the supplement of LXX 2.46a.b*/k.e.f.g.(h).i. In MT they interrupt the literary unit formed by 4.7–19 and 5.7–8.2–4. The immense majority of critics acknowledge that LXX here represents an older form than that transmitted by MT.21 (2) Also, the materials of MT 9.15 to 9.25 correspond with those of LXX 2.35k*.i.h.f.g. In this case, the insertion of this material in MT interrupts the literary unit composed of 9.10–14 and 9.26–28, and centred on the trade relationships between Solomon and Hiram of Tyre, with references to the gold which Solomon received from this trade (vv. 9.14 and 9.28). The text of LXX keeps together the elements which integrate this unit. It is remarkable and difficult to
21 J. Wellhausen, Die Composition des Hexateuchs und der historischen Bücher des Alten Testaments (Berlin: W. de Gruyter, 2nd edn, 1899), p. 271; H. Hroznÿ, Die Abweichungen des Codex Vaticanus vom hebräischen Texte in den Königsbüchern (Leipzig: W. Drugulin, 1909), p. 27; D. W. Gooding, Relics of Ancient Exegesis: A Study of the Miscellanies in 3 Reigns 2 (SOTSMS, 4; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1976), pp. 40–42; Polak, ‘The Septuagint Account of Solomon’s Reign’, p. 150.
kings (mt⁄ lxx) and chronicles
497
explain the fact that Chronicles contains here part of this material (2 Chron 8.3–12 and also 9.26). (3) In the MT the description of the construction of the palace is found inserted in the middle of the account of the construction of the temple (7.1–12). The LXX first presents the narrative of the construction and decoration of the temple and only later makes reference to the palace. This different order in MT and LXX is connected to the different placement in either text of 5.31–32a and 6.37–38a. In my opinion the MT has transposed these materials together with 7.1–12.22 The ‘main text’ of the LXX constitutes the oldest identifiable form of 1 Kings 3–10//2 Chronicles 1–9. Chronicles shows that the MT additions which coincide with the ‘miscellanies’ are secondary in the text, even those of the text of Chronicles itself (8.3–12 = 3 Kgdms 2.35i.h.f.g). The ‘miscellanies’ formed two collections more or less structured around the topic of Solomon’s wisdom and his secular politics. The Hebrew edition represented by the LXX placed these collections at a more suitable point within its own literary structure (at the beginning of the narrative on Solomon). The second edition transmitted by the MT scattered the material of these collections through chapters three to ten, placing every piece in a more suitable context according to its own content. Chronicles did not know the second collection (2.46a–l) and a great part of the first (2.35a–n). As observed by Graeme Auld, the earliest biblical tradition of 1 Kings was centred around the temple of Jerusalem. Only later, by the insertion of the ‘miscellanies’, the biblical tradition—as represented differently by the MT and LXX—took on a more sapiential and profane aspect. But the sapiential character does not seem completely absent from an old form of the text, prior to the triple textual tradition. The most stable and oldest material of Kings, in fact, has to be looked for in the texts of the triple and double tradition. F. H. Polak sustains that the ancient Solomon narrative is represented by the following pericopes: 4.1 (similar to LXX 2.46l); 4.2–19; 5.7–8; 5.2–4; 5.14a–b LXX (corresponding to 3.1; 9.16 MT); 5.15–30; 5.31–32
22 J. Trebolle Barrera, ‘Redaction, Recension, and Midrash in the Books of Kings’, in G. N. Knoppers and J. G. McConville (eds.), Reconsidering Israel and Judah: Recent Studies on the Deuteronomistic History (Sources for Biblical and Theological Study, 8; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2000), pp. 475–92. For a different opinion see Polak, ‘The Septuagint Account of Solomon’s Reign’, p. 153.
498
julio trebolle
(= 6.1a–b LXX); 6.37–38 (corresponding to 6.1c–d LXX); 6.2–36 (except 6.11–14); 7.1–51; 9.10b (corresponding to 9.1; 8.1 LXX); 9.11–14; 9.26–28; 10.11–12; 10.14*; 9.15b, 18–19; 10.26, 28–29; 11.1a, 3a. All these texts are common to MT and LXX, some of them are also present in Chronicles and others are placed in different contexts of MT and LXX. They probably constitute the ancient stock of Kings, somewhat more extensive than what is represented by Chronicles. Polak assigns to a ‘wisdom redaction’ the passages: 3.4–15; 3.16–28; 5.9–10, 11–14, 21; 9.15a, 19b–23, 25; 10.1–10, 11–15*, 21–22, 23–25, 27.23 The material is heterogeneous, encompassing as it does texts from the triple tradition (3.14–15; 5.21; 10.1–10; 10.11–15*, 21–22, 23–25, 27) together with others attested by MT and LXX (3.16–28; 5.9–10, 11–14 and verses present in different locations: 9.15a, 19b–23, 25, the last [v. 25] absent from LXX). Nevertheless, among the ancient stock there was already material of a sapiential theme like 3.4–15; 5.9–10, 11–14. It does not seem possible to reconstruct a ‘wisdom redaction’ with materials of such a heterogeneous textual attesting. 3. Old Elements of the Textual and Literary Tradition of Samuel–Kings With the modifications previously proposed, the model of study advanced by G. Auld may be valid for 1 Kings 3–10 MT LXX// 2 Chronicles 1–9 and in particular for the story of the vision in Gibeon (1 Kgs 3.4–15//1 Chron 1.6b–13).24 It does not seem to be, nevertheless, for the rest of 1 Kings and 2 Kings, which do not only imply other sources,25 but also other models of analysis. The comparative study of MT/LXX Samuel–Kings and Chronicles can contribute to advance the debate around the composition history of Samuel–Kings. Research after Martin Noth has been centred in the study of the Deuteronomistic redaction, neglecting the study of the composition of the book, as well as the history of the text and textual criticism. Biblical manuscripts from Qumran, concretely those
23
Polak, ‘The Septuagint Account of Solomon’s Reign’, pp. 162–63. A. G. Auld, ‘Solomon at Gibeon: History Glimpsed’, in S. A˙ituv and B. A. Levine (eds.), Avraham Malamat Volume (ErIsr, 24; Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1993), pp. 1*–7*. 25 Auld, Kings without Privilege, p. 148. 24
kings (mt⁄ lxx) and chronicles
499
of historical books (4QJosha, 4QJudga and 4QSama) and of Jeremiah, which have experienced the influx of Deuteronomistic redactors, show that the order of composition units has also a history to be reconstructed, as it is fundamental for the understanding of the affected book. A comparison of the triple textual tradition of MT/LXX Kings and Chronicles could contribute to the recovery of recent and old elements of the textual and literary tradition of Samuel–Kings. Here, I will briefly mention two of them. The first one is related to the division of the books of Samuel–Kings, which knows of a different textual evidence in the different texts. Chronicles starts its account of the biblical history using as a source 2 Samuel up to 11.1 (2 Samuel 5.1–11.1//1 Chronicles 11.1–20.1). At this point it omits the story of David and Bathsheba, 2 Samuel 11.2–12.25, as well as the rest of the ‘history of succession’, 2 Samuel 13–20; 1 Kings 1–2.26 The same verse 11.1, closes the non-kaige section of the LXX text (1 Samuel 1.1–2 Samuel 11.1) and opens the kaige section that runs as far as 1 Kgs 2.11 (LXXL). The division of the text according to the kaige recension corresponds probably to a similar division in the original. This could suggest that the text delimited by this recension, 1 Samuel 11.1–2 Kings 2.11, could have formed a separate scroll.27 The textual and literary cut in 11.1 seems due to the phenomena pertaining to the composition and editing of 2 Samuel. Chronicles reproduces in 20.1–3 the text of 2 Sam 11.1* + 12.26, 30–31, without the interposed story of David and Bathsheba. In 2 Samuel a linking repetition (Wiederaufnahme), ‘attacked and conquered . . . attacked and conquered’, marks the addition of vv. 27–29a.
26
After 2 Sam 11.1 Chronicles continues with the accounts that form part of the ‘Appendix’ of 2 Samuel 21–24 (1 Chron 20.4–8 = 2 Sam 21.18–22 and 1 Chronicles 21 = 2 Samuel 24). Chronicles follows a text of Samuel in which the materials of the Appendix were closely connected to those prior to 2 Sam 11.1. On the different definitions and characterisations of the ‘history of succession’ see, W. Dietrich, Von David zu den Deuteronomisten: Studien zu den Geschichtsüberlieferungen des Alten Testament (BWANT, 156; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2002), pp. 32–57. 27 Both the omission in Chronicles of the stories following 2 Sam 11.1 as well as the kaige division of the Greek text at this same point have been ascribed to the wish to avoid texts that compromise David’s character, such as the immediately following account concerning David, Bathsheba and Uriah. Cf. S. L. McKenzie, The Chronicler’s Use of the Deuteronomistic History (HSM, 33; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1985), pp. 37, 72.
500
julio trebolle
This insertion ascribes to Joab the wish to leave to David the honour of having conquered the city of Rabbah. As a result the same verbs ‘attacked and conquered’ first have Joab as their subject (12.26) and then David (12.29b). In 1 Chron 20.1, instead, Joab is the only protagonist: ‘Joab led the troops . . . reduced Rabbah and destroyed it’. Chronicles reproduces a text that did not know 2 Sam 12.26–29. 1 Chron 20.1 reproduces 1 Sam 11.1 in line with its own Vorlage, which represents here a form earlier than that of MT. Joab was the protagonist throughout the account of the campaign against the Ammonites (2 Sam 10.1–14 + 11.1 + 12.30–31//2 Chron 19.1–15 + 20.1–3). David’s role is reduced to sending Joab into battle and collecting the booty at the end of the battle. Joab is also the protagonist in the conquest of Jerusalem (1 Chron 11.4–9). Josephus (Ant. VII 63–64) also ascribes to Joab the taking of the city, in an account similar to the one in Chronicles. Instead, in 2 Sam 5.6–10 it is David who takes the fortress and builds the Milloh, without any reference to Joab.28 The second element of the ancient literary tradition of Samuel–Kings which can be recovered through a comparison with Chronicles is the reference to Saul and Gibeon which is exclusive to Chronicles. This reference derives from its Vorlage of Samuel–Kings or from other sources. Chronicles includes the genealogy of Saul and extends it as far as the Exile and even duplicates its text in 1 Chron 8.29–40// 9.35–44. Saul’s dynasty has its roots in Gibeon (1 Chron 8.29–33// 9.35–39). The results of ‘the battle of Gibeon’ (2 Sam 2.12–32) are recorded later (2 Sam 3.30). David defeats the Philistines ‘from Gibeon to the entrance of Gezer’ (2 Sam 5.25 = 1 Chron 14.16). The ark which was ‘on the heights of Gibeon’ is transported to Jerusalem (2 Sam 6.1–19//1 Chron 13.6–14; 15.25–16.3). The followers of Zeba and of David meet in Gibeon (2 Sam 20.8). David leaves priests ‘on the height of Gibeon’ (1 Chron 16.39), ‘the main sanctuary’ to which Solomon comes at the beginning of his reign (1 Kgs 3.4–13//2 Chron 1.1–13). The Chronicles account makes Solomon return ‘from the height of Gibeon’ to Jerusalem (2 Chron 1.13, a reference absent in 1 Kings 3). The altar of holocausts was
28 S. K. Bietenhard, Des Königs General: Die Heerführertraditionen in der vorstaatlichen und frühen staatlichen Zeit und die Joabgestalt in 2 Sam 2–20; 1 Kön 1–2 (OBO, 163; Freiburg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998).
kings (mt⁄ lxx) and chronicles
501
‘on the height of Gibeon’, as Chronicles notes at the end of the story of the census, the plague and the construction of the altar (2 Sam 24.21–28//1 Chron 21.1–28). This narrative about the building of the altar points to that of the building of the Jerusalem temple. Chronicles makes this relationship explicit in 1 Chronicles 21.28–22.19, as does LXX 2 Sam 24.25, ka‹ pros°yhken Salvmvn §p‹ tÚ yusiastÆrion §pÉ §sxãtƒ ˜ti mikrÚn ∑n §n pr≈toiw, a sentence missing from MT. Chronicles seems, therefore, to attest (Northern) traditions that contained more references to Saul and to Gibeon than what can be distinguished in Samuel–Kings.
THE ‘SHARED TEXT’ OF SAMUEL–KINGS AND CHRONICLES RE-EXAMINED John Van Seters In 1983 Graeme Auld and I, quite independently of each other, put forth the proposal that the so-called ‘Court History’ or ‘Succession Narrative’ of 2 Samuel 9–20; 1 Kings 1–2, was not a source for the Deuteronomist but a much later supplement to the original narrative.1 However, as Auld has more recently pointed out, the implications of this observation led us into quite different directions.2 Whereas I saw the Court History as a clearly defined literary work that was added to the DtrH, Auld saw it as merely part of a large mass of plusses that were added to a much smaller literary corpus, the ‘shared text’, which was defined as being only that part of the Hebrew text of Samuel–Kings that it has in common with Chronicles.3 It was the absence of such a large block of text as the Court History, as well as the great body of material dealing with the Northern Kingdom of Israel, that led Auld to suggest this much more limited original ‘shared text’ held in common by both the author/editor of Samuel– Kings as it now exists and the Chronicler. Consequently, the rest of the text of Samuel–Kings not found in Chronicles consists of later additions unknown to the Chronicler and all these additions may be roughly dated as late as the Chronicler’s own additions. Therefore, Samuel–Kings has no priority over that of Chronicles as first
1 A. G. Auld, ‘Prophets Through the Looking Glass: Between Writings and Moses’, JSOT 27 (1983), pp. 3–23 (16); J. Van Seters, In Search of History: Historiography in the Ancient World and the Origins of Biblical History (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983), pp. 277–91. 2 A. G. Auld, ‘Samuel and Genesis: Some Question’s of John Van Seters’s “Yahwist”’, in S. L. McKenzie, T. Römer and H. H. Schmid (eds.), Rethinking the Foundations: Historiography in the Ancient World and in the Bible: Essays in Honour of John Van Seters (BZAW, 294; Berlin: W. de Gruyter, 2000), pp. 23–32 (23). 3 A. G. Auld, Kings without Privilege: David and Moses in the Story of the Bible’s Kings (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994).
504
john van seters
suggested by de Wette4 and followed by critical scholarship ever since.5 While Auld is ready to acknowledge that the ‘shared text’ may consist of different literary strata and the plusses of Samuel–Kings may likewise be stratified, as reflected in the notion of multiple Deuteronomists, the Chronicler’s additions seem to make up a single, homogeneous supplement by one author. Auld rejects the criterion of characteristic language and theological concepts that were used to identify the scope and limits of the Deuteronomist(s) because these clearly overlap between his ‘shared text’ and the plusses. In his view this common language in the plusses may simply derive from, and imitate, the language and themes of the ‘shared text’. When the argument is put in this way, then it is difficult to see what would count as a reasonable case against his hypothesis. This radical thesis strikes at the very basis of historical criticism of the Pentateuch and historical books as inaugurated by de Wette. Hence it is a thesis that warrants very close scrutiny. It would appear that the best way to fairly debate this hypothesis of the ‘shared text’ is first to look again at the question of whether or not the Chronicler knew of the Court History of David as part of his source and chose to delete it from his own portrait of David to counter the Court History’s presentation of the Davidic monarchy and replace it with a quite different idealisation. This is doubly important if one holds, as I do, that the Court History was a later addition to DtrH, because if the Chronicler did know of the Court History, this would mean that the Chronicler also had access to the DtrH in the rest of Samuel–Kings as well. As I have argued elsewhere, the Court History shows complete awareness of the DtrH, both the Book of Judges and the early part of Samuel as well as the later part of Kings, including the story of Ahab and the history of the Northern Kingdom.6 Thus, if it could be shown that the
4 On de Wette’s treatment of Chronicles, see M. P. Graham, The Utilization of 1 and 2 Chronicles in the Reconstruction of Israelite History in the Nineteenth Century (SBLDS, 116; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1990), pp. 9–34. 5 See M. Noth, Überlieferungsgeschichtliche Studien: Die sammelnden und bearbeitenden Geschichtswerke im Alten Testament (Tübingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag, 2nd edn, 1957), pp. 131–43. This classic treatment of the problem of sources is followed with slight modifications in most critical commentaries. 6 J. Van Seters, ‘The Court History and DtrH’, in A. de Pury and T. Römer (eds.), Die sogenannte Thronfolgegeschichte Davids: Neue Einsichten und Anfragen (OBO, 176; Freiburg: Universitätsverlag, 2000), pp. 70–93.
the ‘shared text’ of sam–kgs and chron re-examined
505
Chronicler knew the Court History, then the basic evidence for the ‘shared text’ hypothesis would be seriously undermined. The second way to assess the likelihood of this thesis is to look at the ‘shared text’, or at least a part of it as reconstructed by Auld, to see if it makes any coherent sense without the larger context provided by the present text of Samuel–Kings. Space does not permit us to look at the whole reconstructed ‘shared text’ but only that which has to do with the reign of David and Solomon and particularly the Chronicler’s use of the books of Samuel and the early part of Kings.7 These two tests do not by any means exhaust all the issues or questions raised by Auld’s provocative study, but they should be sufficient to decide upon the merits of the proposal. The initial challenge to Auld’s thesis was already raised by Hugh Williamson when the proposal was first put forward in 1983, as to whether or not the Chronicler knew the Court History, and he concluded that the Chronicler did know a version of Samuel that included the Court History.8 He points specifically to the Chronicler’s account of the Ammonite campaign in 1 Chron 20.1–3 where it seems clear that the Chronicler has merely taken the initial verse in 1 Sam 11.1 indicating the start of the campaign and spliced it together with the ending in 1 Sam 12.26, 30–31 which reports the eventual overthrow of the city of Rabbah without the report of the affair with Bathsheba. But in doing this the Chronicler has created a serious contradiction, for in 1 Chron 20.1 it is reported that David remained behind in Jerusalem, which in Samuel is prelude to the adultery with Bathsheba, while in vv. 2–3 David is now in the field at Rabbah, claiming the victory and finally returning with the people to Jerusalem. How David got to Rabbah after Joab’s victory is explained in Samuel, but is missing in Chronicles. Auld defends his ‘shared text’ as the original and glosses over this contradiction, but this is hardly convincing.9 The list of the offspring of David in 1 Chron 3.1–9 has closely parallel material in Samuel,10 found in the two quite separate genealogies
7
Auld sets out this part of the ‘shared text’ in Kings without Privilege, pp. 42–67. H. G. M. Williamson, ‘A Response to A. G. Auld’, JSOT 27 (1983), pp. 33–39 (35–37). 9 A. G. Auld, ‘Prophets Through the Looking Glass: A Response to Robert Carroll and Hugh Williamson’, JSOT 27 (1983), pp. 41–44. 10 See also S. Japhet, I & II Chronicles: A Commentary (OTL; Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1993), pp. 94–97. 8
506
john van seters
of 2 Sam 3.2–5 and 5.13–16. The second of these is made part of Auld’s ‘shared text’,11 but the first is not, for the obvious reason that it is imbedded in the Court History and plays a vital role within that work. The second group of Jerusalem offspring, however, are said to be in addition to those born in Hebron. It could, of course, be argued that this was information drawn from a third source, but given the other clues that suggest the Chronicler’s dependence upon the Court History, this seems rather unlikely. This is confirmed by the fact that the Chronicler adds to the genealogy as a whole three additional pieces of information. The one is the dating of David’s reign of seven and a half years in Hebron and 33 years in Jerusalem. Auld includes this information in his ‘shared text’ so we may set this aside for the moment. A second piece of information is that Bathshua the daughter of Ammiel is the mother of the first four children, including Solomon. The list of names in 2 Sam 5.13–15 mentions no names of mothers so it is very likely that the Chronicler merely derived the name from the story of Bathsheba in 2 Samuel 11–12 and added it after Solomon’s name as the mother of the first four children. The Chronicler makes her the daughter of Ammiel, whereas 2 Sam 11.3 makes her the daughter of Eliam, who in 2 Sam 23.34 (the ‘shared text’) is given as the son of Ahithophel, the traitor in the revolt of Absalom. This would give Solomon a dubious pedigree so perhaps the Chronicler altered the names to avoid any such suspicion. (Ammiel is just the transposition of the two elements in the name Eliam.) The name is also omitted from the heroes of David in the Chronicler. The third addition to the genealogy is the reference to ‘Tamar, their sister’ (1 Chron 3.9). Since the ‘shared text’ of 2 Sam 5.13 indicates that there were more daughters of David, the fact that special attention is given to this one must relate to the story of Tamar in 2 Samuel 13. The reference seems to assume that this story is well known and therefore it is part of his source in Samuel. As Sara Japhet points out, the inclusion of Tamar means that ‘all of David’s family known to the Chronicler from the book of Samuel are assembled, to complete the list of royal offspring’.12 The generally accepted limits for the Court History of 2 Samuel 9–20; 1 Kings 1–2, which Auld also uses, include the account of
11 12
Auld, Kings without Privilege, p. 44. Japhet, I & II Chronicles, p. 97.
the ‘shared text’ of sam–kgs and chron re-examined
507
the Ammonite war in 2 Samuel 10, which Auld chooses to overlook. In Rost’s treatment of the Succession Narrative or Court History, he does try to make the case that a substantial part of this battle account belongs to an older ‘archival’ source contemporary with the events.13 I would strongly dispute the existence of any such archival sources,14 but that is not our concern here. However, Rost would also argue that at the very least 2 Sam 10.1–6 does belong to the Court History and has all the characteristics of that work. I would go much further and say that the whole chapter is a fiction created by the author of the Court History together with the continuation of the Ammonite war in 2 Samuel 11–12.15 The fact that 2 Sam 10.1–6 portrays David as having been a friend of Nahash, who in 1 Samuel 11 is represented as such a bitter enemy of Israel and the one over whom Saul won such a great victory to make him king over Israel, is part of the cynical treatment of David and the monarchy characteristic of the Court History.16 Rost, in his presentation of the Succession Narrative, also makes the case for including in this work the scene in the conclusion of the ark narrative between David and Michal in 2 Sam 6.16, 20–23.17 He identifies the characteristics and basic elements of this unit with the theme of the Court History and this moves him further to see it as dependent upon the ark narrative, on the one hand, and as establishing a vital link with the subsequent episode of the promise to David in 2 Samuel 7, on the other. In the Chronicler’s greatly embellished version of the recovery of the ark in 1 Chronicles 15–16, the unpleasant scene of 2 Sam 6.20–23, which clearly reflects badly on David, is omitted, but the Chronicler does retain v. 16 (1 Chron 15.29), perhaps because when treated in isolation it reflects badly on
13 L. Rost, The Succession to the Throne of David (trans. M. D. Rutter and D. M. Gunn; Sheffield: Almond Press, 1982), pp. 57–62. 14 See Van Seters, In Search of History, pp. 299–301. Furthermore, Rost’s comparison of the account of the Ammonite war with the Assyrian royal inscriptions ignores the fact that in no case do they recount the activity of the military generals in the field while the king remains in the palace. It is always the victorious king conducting a holy war at the forefront of his troops that is presented in these inscriptions. See Van Seters, In Search of History, pp. 60–68. 15 2 Sam 10.15–19 is of quite a different character from the rest and may have originally been part of the source in 2 Samuel 8. See Van Seters, In Search of History, p. 283, n. 157. 16 Van Seters, In Search of History, p. 290. 17 Rost, Succession, pp. 85–90; also Van Seters, In Search of History, pp. 280–81.
508
john van seters
the house of Saul.18 However, if it is part of the ‘shared text’, then it remains as a curious fragment without explanation. Michal is identified as the daughter of Saul, but nowhere does the ‘shared text’ suggest that she is the wife and queen of David. So we do not know that she is looking out of the palace window, nor why this remark should interrupt the sequence of actions that bring the ark to its resting place. The explanation becomes entirely clear only with its complement in 2 Sam 6.20–23, which is not part of Auld’s ‘shared text’ or the text of Chronicles. If, therefore, this remark about Michal is part of the text that the Chronicler used, it means that not only the Court History but also much else about David’s early history must be part of the Chronicler’s Vorlage. The omissions reflect the Chronicler’s ideological bias, not the limitations of his source. There is, likewise, good reason for the Chronicler to omit all the derogatory history that follows in 2 Samuel 13–20, but as Williamson again points out,19 the Chronicler does include, in revised form, the narrative in 2 Samuel 24 on David’s census, which has always been viewed as part of a late supplement (2 Samuel 21–24) that interrupts the Court History, which continues in 1 Kings 1–2. The account of Solomon’s succession to the throne of David in 1 Kings 1–2 has been completely and radically revised by the Chronicler in 1 Chronicles 23–29. Now it should be noted that the Court History’s version of the succession is itself an addition to the older DrtH treatment which is very briefly stated in 1 Kgs 2.1–4, containing an exhortation by David to Solomon, followed by David’s death and the quite uncontested succession of Solomon in 2 Kgs 2.10–12. There is no hint in DtrH that Solomon was made king before David’s death and indeed 2 Sam 7.12 makes clear that it would only happen after David’s death. It is the Court History that creates the episode of the struggle between David’s sons and the palace intrigue that puts Solomon on the throne before David’s death, and it is this innovation that the Chronicler seeks to revise and whitewash. Now it is at this point that Auld seems to have considerable trouble in reconstructing his ‘shared text’.20 He begins with the
18
H. G. M. Williamson, 1 and 2 Chronicles (NCB; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans; London: Marshall, Morgan & Scott, 1982), p. 127; Japhet, I & II Chronicles, pp. 307–308. 19 Williamson, ‘Response’, pp. 36–37. 20 Auld, Kings without Privilege, pp. 54–55.
the ‘shared text’ of sam–kgs and chron re-examined
509
common statement ‘When David was old and full of days . . .’ (1 Chron 23.1), which is very similar to 1 Kgs 1.1a: ‘When King David was old and advanced in years . . .’. However, Auld completes the statement: ‘he made Solomon his son king over Israel out of all his sons’. This follows 1 Chron 23.1b except that the words that I have emphasised are not found in Chronicles and are only suggested in a much later text in 1 Chron 28.5. The statement in 1 Kings 1 is completed in an entirely different fashion: ‘they covered him with clothes but he could not get warm’. This hardly reflects the common text that Auld has reconstructed. The next part of Auld’s ‘shared text’ is part of the exhortation in 1 Kgs 2.1–4, which begins in Auld’s reconstruction ‘When his time to die drew near . . .’. This is very close to the King’s text, except that the latter includes David’s name: ‘When David’s time to die grew near . . .’. There is no comparable introduction in Chronicles. Now when we set these two introductory statements of 1 Kgs 1.1a next to v. 2a as they are in the ‘shared text’ with only a very brief remark between them, the complete redundancy of the second is obvious and the reason why Auld has omitted David’s name in the second sentence. That the ‘shared text’ would have had such a completely redundant statement so close to the first one is very unlikely. The reason why two such similar statements appear in Kings is because the one belongs to the Court History and the other to the Deuteronomist. The charge by David in the ‘shared text’ follows that of Kings except that it is greatly abbreviated to remove the most obvious references to Deuteronomy (‘keeping his statutes, his commandments, his ordinances and his testimonies, as it is written in the law of Moses’). There is nothing very similar to Auld’s text in Chronicles except the vague exhortation in 1 Chron 28.7–8. This kind of prejudicial reconstruction of the ‘shared text’ does not inspire confidence in the theory. In place of the Court History’s account of how Solomon became king, the Chronicler has David assemble all the officials of the realm in order to set before them his own choice of Solomon from among his many sons as the future king. After many speeches and prayers, ‘they made Solomon the son of David king [the second time],21 and
21 I am inclined to follow Japhet, I and II Chronicles, p. 514, in thinking that “ènît is a secondary scribal addition influenced by 1 Chron 23.1. Cf. Williamson, 1 and
510
john van seters
they anointed him as Yahweh’s prince (nàgîd), and Zadok as priest’ (1 Chron 29.22b). The term nàgîd is used several times in DtrH with the meaning of Yahweh’s specially designated leader of his people and sometimes also anointed by a prophet (Saul: 1 Sam 9.16; 10.1; David: 1 Sam 13.14; 25.30; 2 Sam 5.2; 7.8; see also 1 Kgs 14.6 and 16.2). The Court History imitates this usage in 2 Sam 6.21; and 1 Kgs 1.35, only in this last instance it is David, not Yahweh, who designates Solomon to be nàgîd over Israel, a significant departure from Dtr’s usage.22 The Chronicler repeats two instances connected with David in 1 Chron 11.2 and 17.7 and uses it again of David in 2 Chron 6.5 in imitation of the other Dtr passages. However, the use of nàgîd in 1 Chron 29.22b, cited above, appears to be dependent on the Court History’s reference to David’s designating Solomon as nàgîd in 1 Kgs 1.35, followed by Zadok’s anointing of Solomon in v. 39. This dependence upon the Court History seems to be confirmed by additional details: the mention of great celebrations on the occasion in both cases, the reference to the anointing of Zadok as priest together with Solomon, and the emphasis that all of the leaders and the other sons of David pledge allegiance to Solomon in sharp contrast to the struggle for power between the two sons and their respective parties of leaders. It seems very unlikely that the Chronicler was ignorant of the Court History. The transition to the reign of Solomon in 1 Kgs 2.10–12, which is certainly in the pattern of DtrH, is taken over by Auld into his ‘shared text’. However, even though Chronicles uses this transition formula in 1 Chron 29.26–28, which he embellishes in v. 28a, there are some significant differences. 1 Kings 2.12a states that after David’s death and burial, ‘Solomon sat upon the throne of David his father, and his kingdom was firmly established’. This follows closely the language of 2 Sam 7.12. Chronicles, however, merely says that after David’s death ‘Solomon, his son reigned in his stead’ without suggesting that he only came to the throne after his father’s death. Likewise his remark about the establishment of the kingdom is postponed to the beginning of the next episode after the remark about the sources for David’s reign: ‘Solomon the son of David established
2 Chronicles, p. 187; G. N. Knoppers, 1 Chronicles 10 –29: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB, 12A; New York: Doubleday, 2004), p. 948. 22 See Van Seters, In Search of History, pp. 275, 288.
the ‘shared text’ of sam–kgs and chron re-examined
511
himself in his kingdom’ (2 Chron 1.1a). Now this statement resembles much more closely the form of the statement that concludes the Court History in 1 Kgs 2.46b: ‘The kingdom was established in the hand of Solomon’, which sums up how Solomon confirmed his control of the kingdom against his opponents.23 From the fragments of the Court History that still remain in Chronicles and are part of the ‘shared text’ of Auld, as well as all the additional clues presented above, it would appear that the Court History was a part of the text of Samuel–Kings that was used by the Chronicler. And since Auld and I are in agreement that the Court History was not an early source for the DtrH but a late supplement, it follows that something very close to the present text of Samuel–Kings was the major source for the Chronicler’s history. This also means that the older view of Chronicles, which was questioned by Auld, namely that the Chronicler revised the DtrH by removing those parts of it that were not in agreement with his ideology, still provides the best explanation for the literary facts present in the text. We now turn to the task of looking briefly at the ‘shared text’ to see if it is a coherent, self-contained text. Again, we will be concerned only with the first part of the text as it relates to the parallel text in Samuel and the early chapters of Kings. The ‘shared text’ begins with the conclusion of Saul’s final battle with the Philistines in which he and his sons are killed. This may serve the Chronicler’s purpose of providing an introduction to David’s reign, but it is hardly likely that it existed without the rest of the account of the campaign, as related in Samuel, or indeed an account of the reign of Saul as a whole. It is quite inappropriate as the beginning of the earliest history of Israel. Not a part of Auld’s ‘shared text’ are the remarks in 1 Chron 10.13–14 which indicate that Saul died because ‘he did not keep the command of Yahweh, and also consulted a medium, seeking guidance’ and as a consequence ‘Yahweh killed him, and turned the kingdom over to David the son of Jesse’. This remark is, of course, directly dependent upon the account of Saul’s visit to the medium of Endor in 1 Samuel 28 and the judgement announced by the ghost of Samuel to Saul that his kingdom has been given by Yahweh to
23
See also Williamson, 1 and 2 Chronicles, p. 183.
512
john van seters
David because he did not obey the command of Yahweh to exterminate the Amalekites (cf. 1 Samuel 15) and this disobedience will lead to the death of himself and his sons.24 This is further supported by the Chronicler’s statement that the anointing of David as king over Israel was done ‘according to the word of Yahweh by Samuel’ (1 Chron 11.3), which again harks back to the episode reflected in 10.13–14 and 1 Samuel 28. It is scarcely possible to believe, therefore, that the Chronicler did not have the whole of this account of the final campaign before him. Furthermore, since there is good reason to believe that this episode involving the medium of Endor, together with the related episode in 1 Samuel 15 is a secondary addition to the DtrH,25 it was the latest form of Samuel that the Chronicler had in front of him. From this episode on the fate of Saul and his kingdom in the far north of Israel, the scene in the ‘shared text’ shifts radically to David in Hebron (2 Sam 5.1–3; 1 Chron 11.1–3), where all the tribes of Israel come to make him king. This shift does not have the benefit of the explanation in 1 Chron 10.13–14 but comes in the remarks of the Israelites in 1 Chron 11.2 in which we learn that David had a military career under Saul, such as is reflected in 1 Samuel. No explanation is given as to why David as the leader of Saul’s forces was not involved in the northern campaign but instead is stationed in Hebron, which is not even his hometown. The way in which the approach to David is made immediately following the death of Saul suggests that David’s reign over Israel began at this time. The ‘shared text’ as printed by Auld contains the transition formula in 2 Sam 5.4–5: ‘David was thirty years old when he began to reign, and he reigned forty years. At Hebron he reigned over Judah seven years and six months; and at Jerusalem he reigned over all Israel and Judah thirty-three years’. This statement is omitted by the Chronicler at this point in his work, for the obvious reason that it contradicts his view that David immediately became king over all Israel. The more abbreviated formula in 1 Kgs 2.3, ‘The time that David reigned over Israel was forty years; he reigned seven years in Hebron, and thirty-three years in Jerusalem’, is repeated by the Chronicler in
24 See also Williamson, 1 and 2 Chronicles, pp. 94–96; Japhet, I & II Chronicles, pp. 229–30. 25 Van Seters, In Search of History, pp. 258–64.
the ‘shared text’ of sam–kgs and chron re-examined
513
1 Chron 29.27, but with the addition in v. 26 that this statement applies to ‘all Israel’. The Chronicler also adds a similar statement about the duration of David’s reign to his genealogy in 1 Chron 3.4 as a conclusion to the first set of sons: ‘Six were born to him in Hebron where he reigned seven years and six months’. This is followed by the statement ‘He reigned thirty-three years in Jerusalem’, which then introduces the second genealogy that lists his offspring in Jerusalem. There is no hint in the Chronicler that he recognises any distinction between the reigns over Judah alone and over both Judah and Israel. This theme of a single ‘all Israel’ rule is again picked up by the Chronicler in 1 Chronicles 12, which suggests that a large part of Israel deserted Saul at the time of the final battle against the Philistines and came to David in Hebron to make him king. Judah only appears as a small part of this whole contingent.26 This certainly suggests a vigorous revision of the history in 2 Samuel 1–4 and not something that could develop out of the ‘shared text’. The account of the bringing of the ark up to Jerusalem in 2 Sam 6.1–20; 1 Chron 15.1–16.3, 43 is another instance that requires some knowledge of prior events to make the account intelligible. If the ark was a well-known cultic object whose rightful place was in the temple, then it is completely mystifying why the ark needed to be retrieved from some obscure location on the borders of Judah and from under the care of those who obviously did not belong to the Jerusalem priesthood. An explanation is even more pressing when the past history of the ark is recounted in the Nathan oracle of 2 Sam 7.6–7; 1 Chron 17.5–6. This oracle also alludes to other times and events, such as the period of the judges, the reign of Saul and especially his rejection in favour of David, and the early career of David. This rehearsal of a summary of these facts would strongly suggest that they were part of a prior account. The fact that the Chronicler specifically mentions ‘Samuel the seer’ (1 Chron 29.29) as one of his sources surely means that he is aware of the material in 1 Samuel covering the life of this prophet. The very title of ‘the seer’ strongly suggests a reference to the story of Saul’s lost donkeys and his secret anointing by Samuel in 1 Sam 9.1–10.16.
26 See the recent discussion and critical review of 1 Chronicles 12 by Knoppers, 1 Chronicles 10–29, pp. 572–78.
514
john van seters
The reign of Solomon may be treated much more simply in terms of the reconstructed ‘shared text’. Apart from the problems of the transition of the reigns from David to Solomon, which we have already discussed above, the Chronicler takes over the major portion of the account of Kings, in revised form, having to do with the vision at Gibeon (1 Kgs 3.4–15); the building and dedication of the temple (5.15–25; chapters 6–8); Solomon’s second vision in Jerusalem (9.1–9); his other building activities (9.10–28); and the visit of the queen of Sheba and Solomon’s great wealth (10.1–28). The omission of the judgement story regarding the two babies in 1 Kgs 3.16–28 and the administration of the realm in chapter 4 does not seriously affect the coherence of the account. They are probably late additions to Dtr’s account of Solomon’s reign, in any event. The exclusion of Solomon’s apostasy through his marriage to many foreign women, which is basic to DtrH was omitted by the Chronicler for obvious ideological reasons, although Auld would dispute this and see it as Dtr’s addition to the ‘shared text’. There is, however, a significant clue to the Chronicler’s treatment of the text of Kings that Auld has overlooked. This has to do with Solomon’s wife, the daughter of Pharaoh. The mention of the marriage to this Egyptian princess is made in 1 Kgs 3.1–2 as the seal of an alliance with Pharaoh, and it is closely related to his building activity. It is also mentioned again in conjunction with the building of Solomon’s palace, at which time he also built a house for her (1 Kgs 7.8). In the account of Solomon’s construction of Hazor, Megiddo and Gezer there is a statement about how Pharaoh captured and destroyed Gezer and then gave it as a dowry to his daughter, the wife of Solomon (1 Kgs 9.15–16). Rather belatedly, 1 Kgs 9.24 mentions that Pharaoh’s daughter finally took up residence in the palace built for her by Solomon. In 1 Kgs 11.1 the daughter of Pharaoh is put at the head of the list of foreign women who led Solomon into apostasy. As I have tried to show elsewhere, all these references to the Egyptian queen are later additions to Dtr’s treatment of the reign of Solomon.27 The Chronicler omits mention of some of these for obvious ideological reasons, but he does repeat one of them: ‘Solomon
27 See my discussion of these texts in ‘Israel and Egypt in the “Age of Solomon”’, in E. B. Banning (ed.), Walls of the Prince: Egypt and Canaan in Antiquity: Papers in Honour of John S. Holladay Jr. (Toronto: Benben Publications, forthcoming).
the ‘shared text’ of sam–kgs and chron re-examined
515
brought up Pharaoh’s daughter from the city of David to the house which he had built for her’ (2 Chron 8.11a), which is quite similar to 1 Kgs 9.24, but then he adds: ‘for he said, “My wife shall not live in the house of David king of Israel, for the places to which the ark of the Lord has come are holy”’ (v. 11b). This, of course, ignores the fact that according to Kings the Egyptian queen had been in residence in the city of David alongside the ark for over twenty years. The reason for including this reference to Pharaoh’s daughter and ignoring the others seems to be the Chronicler’s urge to put a special spin on the construction of a separate palace for the Egyptian queen. However, all of the references to the Egyptian wife of Solomon in Kings belong together as a single source and are a late addition to DtrH, which again argues for the Chronicler’s use of a late and expanded edition of Samuel–Kings. In conclusion, I think it is safe to say that the Chronicler did use a text of Samuel–Kings that largely corresponds to the present text, including its Deuteronomistic composition and various later additions, such as the Court History. The challenge that Auld has given to this viewpoint has merit in so far as it forces us to re-examine the relationship of the two major historical works to each other. However, it does not change the judgement first expressed by de Wette and confirmed by Wellhausen and Noth, that the Chronicler’s work is largely derivative of the earlier history with the omissions and revisions motivated by ideological concerns quite different from those of the earlier history.
ONCE UPON A TIME . . .? H. G. M. Williamson The first book of Samuel, on which Graeme Auld is an expert, begins çya yhyw, whereas the book of Job begins hyh çya. Several suggestions have been made about what the difference might be. Clines, for instance, dismisses the suggestion of Gordis that the form in Job is indicative of ‘a tale and not actual history’1 and prefers to follow König’s explanation that ‘the subsequent narrative has no link with any stage in the course of Israel’s history’.2 The purpose of the following article is to set this discussion in the context of a slightly wider range of evidence than has been customary. It is offered to Graeme as a token of long-standing friendship and collegiality, not least in association with the former British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem (now renamed the Kenyon Institute). In discussion of this issue, it seems to be usual to refer for parallels to 2 Sam 12.1 and Est 2.5, in both of which a form of çya is followed by the qatal of hyh; indeed, Clines goes so far as to say that ‘the only genuine parallels [to Job 1.1] occur at the beginnings of Nathan’s parable (2 Sam 12:1) and of Joash’s fable (2 Kgs 14:9)’. This must be questioned, however, both in respect to further evidence to be cited below and in respect to the reference to Joash’s fable, which certainly begins x-qatal, but without having either word in common. As we shall see, it is the use specifically of hyh which may prove significant, whereas the use of x-qatal generally, if not
1 R. Gordis, The Book of Job: Commentary, New Translation and Special Studies (Moreshet Series, 2; New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1978), p. 10. Gordis in turn (rightly) dismisses the suggestion that the form in Job is late. He attributes this view to E. Dhorme, Le livre de Job (ÉBib; Paris: J. Gabalda, 1926 = trans.: A Commentary on the Book of Job [trans. H. Knight; London: Thomas Nelson, 1967]), but without mentioning a page reference. I have been unable to locate where Dhorme says this, and indeed it seems incompatible with his positive explanation of the phrase ad loc. 2 D. J. A. Clines, Job 1–20 (WBC, 17; Dallas: Word Books, 1989), p. 9; cf. E. König, Historisch-Comparative Syntax der hebräischen Sprache (Leipzig: J. C. Hinrich, 1897), §365g (p. 511).
518
h. g. m. williamson
particularly common, is certainly paralleled in a number of other passages; Gross, for instance, refers to Josh 2.2 and 2 Kgs 1.6 for this construction at the start of a speech (as in 2 Kgs 14.9).3 A further limiting factor in the history of research is that, for understandable reasons, scholars interested in syntax have generally confined themselves to prose narrative, rightly observing that in many respects poetry has its own separate syntactical conventions, not least with respect to the verb and its ‘tenses’. Consequently, without claiming to have undertaken a comprehensive survey of the literature, I observe that several of the passages which ought to be considered are not mentioned at all, or if they are only very much in passing, in such recent studies as Niccacci, Revell, Goldfajn,4 and so on. So long as the discussion is limited to the strictly syntactical, this may be acceptable, but there are other considerations which should also play a role, not least the idiom associated with a specific genre (as in English ‘Once upon a time. . .’); in such cases, there is no good reason to limit the analysis to prose narrative, so long, of course, as it is reasonable to expect that the postulated genre might also appear in poetry. The form at the beginning of 1 Samuel is common; it is the form in Job that is initially more interesting. Rather than discussing xqatal forms generally, however, it would seem at least worthwhile to
3 W. Gross, ‘Syntaktische Erscheinungen am Anfang althebräischer Erzählungen: Hintergrund und Vordergrund’, in J. A. Emerton (ed.), Congress Volume: Vienna 1980 (VTSup, 32; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1981), pp. 131–45 (134). (Gross’s earlier study, ‘Zur Funktion von qatal: Die Verbformen in neueren Veröffentlichungen’, BN 4 [1977], pp. 25–38, is unfortunately not available to me.) Other examples may be found in: P. Joüon, A Grammar of Biblical Hebrew (trans. and rev. T. Muraoka; SubBi, 14; 2 vols; Rome: Editrice Pontificio Istituto Biblico, 1991), 2:§155nd (pp. 581–82); and at various points in A. Niccacci, The Syntax of the Verb in Classical Hebrew Prose ( JSOTSup, 86; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1990); and idem, ‘Finite Verb in the Second Position of the Sentence: Coherence of the Hebrew Verbal System’, ZAW 108 (1996), pp. 434–40. 4 Niccacci, Syntax; E. J. Revell, ‘The System of the Verb in Standard Biblical Prose’, HUCA 60 (1989), pp. 1–37; T. Goldfajn, Word Order and Time in Biblical Hebrew Narrative (Oxford Theological Monographs; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998); J.-M. Heimerdinger, Topic, Focus and Foreground in Ancient Hebrew Narrative ( JSOTSup, 295; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999). Although they treat both prose and poetry, R. Bartelmus, HYH: Bedeutung und Funktion eines hebräischen »Allerweltswortes« — zugleich ein Beitrag zur Frage des hebräischen Tempussystems (ATSAT, 17; St. Ottilien: EOS Verlag, 1982), and B. K. Waltke and M. O’Connor, An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1990), similarly make no reference to our topic.
once upon a time . . .?
519
survey occurrences of x (where x is a noun or proper noun acting as the subject) + hyh (or, if appropriate, of course, htyh or wyh; naturally, second and first person forms are not at issue5). I am not aware that the material has been previously collected and considered together; the results are modest in terms of number, but interesting when considered together as a group. In order to clarify the terms of our search, the following are excluded for the reasons stated. The first word should not have the conjunction prefixed to it, as this invites confusion with the regular circumstantial clause (which in certain conditions leads to the qatal verb being the equivalent of a pluperfect6). Examples of this construction abound in all studies of Hebrew syntax. Nor should the initial word be a pronoun; it must be a noun or proper name (so not hyh awh as at Gen 4.21). The use of a pronoun automatically means that the sentence has a previous referent, so that it does not fit the conditions of our opening example. For the same reason, there must not be a pronominal suffix in the immediate context (so not whypb htyh tma trwt at Mal 2.6). Clearly, the verb hyh needs to be a simple predicate of existence, not an auxiliary verb (so not h[r hyh . . . πswy at Gen 37.2), and similarly it should not be followed by the preposition l to give the sense of ‘become’ (so not μygysl hyh ˚psk, Isa 1.22). Finally, by extension of this consideration, a case such as Gen. 6.9 also falls away from consideration: wytrdb hyh μymt qydx çya jn; the first and the second set of three words are effectively independent clauses, so that hyh is not immediately governed by a noun: ‘Noah was a righteous man; he was blameless in his generation’. So far as I can see, there are six passages which survive this screening process, as follows (translations from NRSV, without prejudice to the following discussion): 2 Sam 12.1
tja ry[b wyh μyçna ynç There were two men in a certain city
1 Kgs 21.1
yla[rzyh twbnl hyh μrk
Naboth the Jezreelite had a vineyard 5 A case such as Deut 6.21 wnyyh μydb[ does not come into consideration, of course, because μydb[ here is not the subject of hyh but the predicate, no doubt fronted for emphasis. The examples listed by Gross, ‘Syntaktische Erscheinungen’, p. 132, n. 3, do not observe this differentiation. 6 Cf. Z. Zevit, The Anterior Construction in Classical Hebrew (SBLMS, 50; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1998).
h. g. m. williamson
520 Isa 5.1
ydydyl hyh μrk My beloved had a vineyard
Job 1.1
≈w[ ≈rab hyh çya
There was once a man in the land of Uz Cant 8.11
ˆwmh l[bb hmlçl hyh μrk
Solomon had a vineyard at Baal-hamon Est 2.5
hrybh ˆçwçb hyh ydwhy çya
Now there was a Jew in the citadel of Susa
Three of these relate to çya, and have already featured in the discussion. The other three concern a vineyard. I start with the latter group, as they have not been previously considered in this connection. At first sight, the three references come from very different literary contexts: history, prophecy (in the guise of a song), and love poetry. But appearances can be deceptive. The passage which seems to stand out from the remainder is 1 Kgs 21.1, the opening of the story of Naboth’s vineyard. Unlike the other two, the clause in question follows the standard narrative introduction, hlah μyrbdh rja yhyw and in addition it introduces a story which has been generally understood as historical, as witness its frequent citation in histories of the development of Israelite society and of its judicial system. Most commentators, on the other hand, agree that the introductory statement is to be ascribed to a late stage in the redaction of the following passage when it was set in its present context. Its equivalent is absent from the Greek translation, in which, in addition, 1 Kings 21 follows chapters 17–19. There must thus be the strong suspicion that the clause was added to the Hebrew in conjunction with the present ordering of the material.7 This conclusion may find some support from Niccacci’s observation that after an initial yhyw clause, the continuation only very occasionally takes the form x-qatal.8 Though
7 This position is adopted, for instance, by such recent commentators as G. H. Jones, 1 and 2 Kings (NCB; 2 vols; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans; London: Marshall, Morgan & Scott, 1984), 2:352; E. Würthwein, Die Bücher der Könige: 1. Kön. 17—2. Kön 25 (ATD, 11/2; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1984), p. 247; M. Cogan, 1 Kings: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB, 10; New York: Doubleday, 2001), p. 476. That the above probably represents an oversimplification of the process is acknowledged by J. A. Montgomery and H. S. Gehman, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Books of Kings (ICC; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1951), p. 333. 8 Niccacci, Syntax, p. 52; similarly, S. R. Driver dubbed it ‘exceedingly rare’ in A Treatise on the Use of the Tenses in Hebrew and Some Other Syntactical Questions (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 3rd edn, 1892), p. 90.
once upon a time . . .?
521
not a strong argument, it might also be added that it is not a particularly good match with what follows, for the ‘apodosis’ relates to a state of affairs (Naboth had a vineyard) rather than an action, as might be expected. I conclude that at an earlier stage the story simply began with the words cited above, bringing it closer into line from a literary point of view with the other two passages concerning vineyards. Less frequently discussed is the fact that there is an alternative account of the death of Naboth in 2 Kgs 9.25–26. In an earlier study, quite independent of the present concern, I sought to bolster the arguments of those who have argued that these two accounts are irreconcilably contradictory and that it is the 2 Kings 9 version which is more likely to be closer to whatever historical event lies behind these texts.9 I cannot here repeat all those arguments, but would simply reflect on the consequences for the nature of 1 Kings 21. It seems most likely that the story of the unjust killing by royal instigation of an innocent man and his family (so 2 Kgs 9.25–26) was taken up by a later writer to compose a vivid narrative with scarcely concealed ethical concerns about the nature of traditional Israelite society and its values in contrast to the more ‘modern’ style of rule under an absolute monarch.10 It might almost be called a parable (except that parables are not supposed to refer to known individuals). It certainly bears comparison with the book of Job, which is also a literary creation as a forum for a profound discussion of pressing theological concerns, and which in all probability was also based on the knowledge of an archetypical righteous figure (cf. Ezek 14.14 and 20). 9 H. G. M. Williamson, ‘Jezreel in the Biblical Texts’, TA 18 (1991), pp. 72–92, following in particular I. L. Seeligmann, ‘Die Auffassung von der Prophetie in der deuteronomistischen und chronistischen Geschichtsschreibung (mit einem Exkurs über das Buch Jeremia)’, in J. A. Emerton et al. (eds.), Congress Volume: Göttingen 1977 (VTSup, 29; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1978), pp. 254–84 (repr. in I. L. Seeligmann, Gesammelte Studien zur Hebräischen Bibel [ed. E. Blum; FAT, 41; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004], pp. 265–92), and A. Rofé, ‘The Vineyard of Naboth: The Origin and Message of the Story’, VT 38 (1988), pp. 89–104. 10 It is sometimes claimed that the purpose of the story was rather to add to the vilification of Jezebel and her culture. That seems to be only half right. It is true that she plays a pivotal role in the narrative, but only to underline what I take to be its main point, as indicated above. Her question in v. 7 is telling: ‘Do you now govern Israel?’ (NRSV); in my view, it is ironic that she cannot even express herself at this point in good Hebrew (larçy l[ hkwlm hç[t ht[ hta): the ‘foreignness’ of what is going on in Israelite society is thus nicely underlined.
522
h. g. m. williamson
The study of the opening verses of Isaiah 5, the so-called Song of the Vineyard, has been immeasurably complicated by the failure of scholars in the past to come to any sort of agreement over the passage’s form or genre. Order began to be brought to this confusion by Willis, who in 1977 surveyed no less than twelve possible definitions of its genre.11 While criticisms can certainly be raised against some aspects of his study,12 it nevertheless served the valuable purpose of categorising a great many suggestions (which need not, therefore, be repeated here) and of eliminating at least some of the more outlandish proposals from the first part of the twentieth century from further consideration. Willis’s own preferred solution was ‘a parabolic song of a disappointed husbandman’ (which of course is neither a form- nor a genre-definition as such). Things have not stood still since Willis’s article, however, and there have been noteworthy contributions in the meantime by at least another dozen scholars.13 It is difficult to escape the impression that, even though some of these were seeking to build on or otherwise to refine the suggestions of those who preceded them, there must be some fundamental problem with the method, or at least its application, that can produce such diverse results.14 The following factors need to be kept in mind.
11
J. T. Willis, ‘The Genre of Isaiah 5:1–7’, JBL 96 (1977), pp. 337–62. See, for instance, R. Bartelmus, ‘Beobachtungen zur literarischen Struktur des sog. Weinberglieds ( Jes 5,1–7)’, ZAW 110 (1998), pp. 50–66. 13 E.g. A. Graffy, ‘The Literary Genre of Isaiah 5,1–7’, Bib 60 (1979), pp. 400–409; W. S. Prinsloo, ‘Isaiah 5:1–7: A Synchronic Approach’, OTWSA 22–23 (1979–1980), pp. 183–97; G. A. Yee, ‘A Form-Critical Study of Isaiah 5:1–7 as a Song and a Juridical Parable’, CBQ 43 (1981), pp. 30–40; G. T. Sheppard, ‘More on Isaiah 5:1–7 as a Juridical Parable’, CBQ 44 (1982), pp. 45–47; C. A. Evans, ‘On the Vineyard Parables of Isaiah 5 and Mark 12’, BZ N.F. 28 (1984), pp. 82–86; H. Niehr, ‘Zur Gattung von Jes 5,1–7’, BZ N.F. 30 (1986), pp. 99–104; A. J. Bjørndalen, Untersuchungen zur allegorischen Rede der Propheten Amos und Jesaja (BZAW, 165; Berlin: W. de Gruyter, 1986), pp. 293–343; M. C. A. Korpel, ‘The Literary Genre of the Song of the Vineyard (Isa. 5:1–7)’, in W. van der Meer and J. C. de Moor (eds.), The Structural Analysis of Biblical and Canaanite Poetry ( JSOTSup, 74; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1988), pp. 119–55; K. Nielsen, There is Hope for a Tree: The Tree as Metaphor in Isaiah ( JSOTSup, 65; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1989), pp. 90–100; H. Irsigler, ‘Speech Acts and Intention in the “Song of the Vineyard” Isaiah 5:1–7’, OTE 10 (1997), pp. 39–68; Bartelmus, ‘Beobachtungen’; F. Fechter, ‘Enttäuschte Erwartungen: Die Sprache der Bilder in Jesaja 5,1–7’, BN 104 (2000), pp. 69–82. 14 See generally the useful collection of essays in M. A. Sweeney and E. Ben Zvi (eds.), The Changing Face of Form Criticism for the Twenty-First Century (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003). 12
once upon a time . . .?
523
Form and genre are not the same thing, though they are all too frequently confused. Form should apply to the shape, structure or outline of a passage which may be laid alongside and compared with others that are similar. They need not be identical, but they should at least have a sufficient number of elements in common to allow one to speak of a ‘form’ at all. Genre, on the other hand, concerns the literary type of the passage. Secondly, there will obviously be differences of definition according to how much text is under analysis: in principle it is possible to discuss the genre of a whole book (e.g. ‘prophetic book’) all the way down to a brief passage within it. And finally, it is rather clear that even within the present short passage there are different elements to which justice needs to be done if the analysis is to be faithful to the text. In my opinion, we may first agree without difficulty that there are two small genres included within the passage (this is not to be confused with the question of the genre of the passage as a whole), namely a song (in narrative form, which seems acceptable)15 in vv. 1b–2, as clearly stated in v. 1a, and a lawsuit in vv. 3–6.16 These elements are clearly contributing to a more extensive whole, however, so that it would be foolish to divide the text up on this basis alone. Secondly, so far as the form of the passage is concerned, the closest parallels are those tabulated by Graffy and Niehr,17 namely 2 Sam 12.1–7a; 14.1–20; and 1 Kgs 20.35–42 (Graffy adds Jer 3.1–5),18 and on this
15 Cf. R. Alter, The Art of Biblical Poetry (New York: Basic Books, 1985), pp. 27–61. Bartelmus, ‘Beobachtungen’, seems to me to be confused on this point. He is correct to observe that vv. 1b–2 take the form of narrative (note especially the use of waw-consecutive forms, which do not recur in the following verses), but wrong, in my opinion, to deny that this can at the same time be poetic. The passage in the Song of Songs to be discussed below is sufficient indication. 16 Cf. H. J. Boecker, Redeformen des Rechtslebens im Alten Testament (WMANT, 14; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1964), pp. 81–83; Nielsen, There is Hope for a Tree, pp. 92–94, and idem, ‘Das Bild des Gerichts (rib-pattern) in Jes. i–xii’, VT 29 (1979), pp. 309–24 (317–19); P. Bovati, ‘Le langage juridique du prophète Isaïe’, in J. Vermeylen (ed.), The Book of Isaiah (BETL, 81; Leuven: Peeters and Leuven University Press, 1989), pp. 177–96 (191–94). 17 Pace P. Höffken, ‘Probleme in Jesaja 5,1–7’, ZTK 79 (1982), pp. 392–410. 18 The differences in the order of the constituent elements, as well as some omissions, may be explained as contextual adaptations; they do not justify Sheppard’s conjectures (‘More on Isaiah 5:1–7’) about material misplaced from 3.13–15, concerning which there are considerable difficulties on other grounds as well.
524
h. g. m. williamson
basis the term ‘juridical parable’ (or ‘anklagende Gerichtsparabel’) has become popular as a designation.19 Finally, so far as genre properly speaking is concerned, the main discussion with regard to the passage as a whole has been whether parable is appropriate or whether it should be classified rather as an allegory (so, especially Bjørndalen, who has been followed by Korpel and Sweeney).20 The principal objection to the designation as parable has been the view that a parable should have only one moral, whereas the present passage is open to more than one application and its goal or intention is not a moral. This conclusion may be overly restrictive, however, and seems to be based upon an understanding of New Testament parables which nowadays would not be so rigidly applied. Conversely, in an allegory each element of the story represents something in the real world, but there is no suggestion that each of the vineyard owner’s actions in vv. 1b–2 is meant to be interpreted as descriptive of Israel’s past history.21 Applying these considerations to our formula at the start of the song in v. 1b, we may therefore say that it is important to focus on the use of our particular construction within the minor genre of vv. 1b–2 and not to confuse that with the results of an analysis of vv. 1–7 as a whole. Within this restriction, it is used to introduce a narrative song which is then used as the parable within a wider context which includes the application of the parable (and which therefore cannot itself be labelled a parable). Rather as with 1 Kings 21, it introduces a narrative, which only turns out subsequently to be told with ulterior motives. The third passage which begins hyh μrk is Cant 8.11. Commentators seem to be agreed that it too marks the start of a new section in the text, but they agree about little else! Among the reasons for this unsatisfactory situation are uncertainty about the identification of the speaker and whether he, she or they remain the same in both vv. 11 and 12, about the extent to which the language is metaphorical,
19 Here the influence of Simon’s study should be acknowledged, even though he was not dealing with our particular passage: U. Simon, ‘The Poor Man’s EweLamb: An Example of a Juridical Parable’, Bib 48 (1967), pp. 207–42. 20 M. A. Sweeney, Isaiah 1–39 with an Introduction to Prophetic Literature (FOTL, 16; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), p. 126. 21 So correctly J. Vollmer, Geschichtliche Rückblicke und Motive in der Prophetie des Amos, Hosea und Jesaja (BZAW, 119; Berlin: W. de Gruyter, 1971), pp. 149–55, who points to the similar situation in 1.2–3.
once upon a time . . .?
525
and about the right way to interpret the references to money (‘pieces of silver’). The brevity of the passage is one of the main causes of so much disagreement.22 Despite all these uncertainties, it seems clear that ‘Solomon’s vineyard’, regardless of its great monetary value, is being compared unfavourably with ‘my vineyard’ in v. 12. That is obviously a surprising outcome to a first-time reader. When starting to read in an independent poem that ‘Solomon had a vineyard at Baal-hamon’, s/he expects the narrative to continue about that topic. The emphatic first person singular suffixes at the start of v. 12 (ynpl ylç ymrk) reverse that expectation, however, so that it is only retrospectively that one may pick up the clues to a less-than-straightforward approach to v. 11, such as the likelihood that, whether or not there was such a place in ancient Israel, Baal-hamon should now be understood (in Goulder’s memorable rendering) as ‘own-a-lot’. Such a re-reading does not quite make the passage into a parable,23 but it is certainly a narrative with ulterior motives. Indeed, that is a conclusion which it seems could be applied to all three passages which are introduced by hyh μrk. ‘Once upon a time’ will not do as an English equivalent, because that at once betrays the fact that the narrative is fictitious, if not a fairy tale. Clearly, in the case of Isa 5.1 it would undermine the rhetoric of the passage if that were to be made clear from the start; its whole force resides in the way that the implied audience is lulled into thinking first that they are listening to a song, and then to a situation in which they are asked to adjudicate about strangers.24 To give the
22
I have consulted the following as representative, I trust, of current opinion: W. Rudolph, Das Buch Ruth. Das Hohe Lied. Die Klagelieder (KAT, 17/1–3; Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus Gerd Mohn, 1962); M. H. Pope, Song of Songs: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB, 7C; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1977); M. D. Goulder, The Song of Fourteen Songs ( JSOTSup, 36; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1986); R. E. Murphy, The Song of Songs: A Commentary on the Book of Canticles or the Song of Songs (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1990); J. G. Snaith, Song of Songs (NCB; London: Marshall Pickering; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993); O. Keel, The Song of Songs: A Continental Commentary (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1994); T. Longman, Song of Songs (NICOT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001); D. Garrett in D. Garrett and P. R. House, Song of Songs/Lamentations (WBC, 23B; Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2004). 23 Pace M. V. Fox, The Song of Songs and the Ancient Egyptian Love Songs (Madison: University of Wisconsin, 1985), p. 174. 24 Cf. G. R. Williams, ‘Frustrated Expectations in Isaiah v 1–7’, VT 35 (1985), pp. 459–65.
526
h. g. m. williamson
game away at the start would ruin this effect. And in the other two cases there are not dissimilar considerations. Nevertheless, it is equally clear that there is slightly more to this form of introduction than a simple narrative opening. The audience or reader is certainly being invited to attend to what follows with critical care. Precisely the same applies to two of the three passages which use a form of çya. 2 Sam 12.1b has often been compared with Isa 5.1b, because both are thought to introduce a ‘juridical parable’, and with good reason. The rhetorical device is the same, and the same considerations obviously apply about not betraying the fact that this is a fictitious narrative while at the same time needing to engage the careful attention of the implied audience (David). The case of Job is not quite in the same category, but its similarity in intent to the Naboth incident means that it belongs squarely in the same bracket. This leaves only Est 2.5 to be considered. At first sight, this would seem to be the exception that proves the rule, for it occurs during the course of what purports to be historical narrative, and even if modern scholars have difficulty in accepting that designation, such a consideration should not affect our analysis of the ancient writer’s presentation of genre markers. Self-evidently it does not fit Clines’s explanation of Job 1.1, for the following passage (vv. 5–6) ‘anchors the story in Jewish history’25 as strongly as it can: we are told of Mordecai’s family and tribal affiliation as well as the fact that he (or his great-grandfather; the text is not fully clear on who is referred to here26) had been ‘carried away from Jerusalem among the captives carried away with King Jeconiah of Judah, whom King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon had carried away’. It is difficult to think of any more emphatic way of demonstrating that the present narrative is to be taken indeed as a continuing part of the national history. Clines therefore dismisses the relevance of this passage for his discussion with the explanation
25 M. V. Fox, Character and Ideology in the Book of Esther (Studies on Personalities of the Old Testament; Columbia: University of South Carolina, 1991), p. 28; see too S. B. Berg, The Book of Esther: Motifs, Themes and Structure (SBLDS, 44; Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1979), pp. 103–104: Mordecai’s ‘genealogy suggests the long history of the Jewish people’. 26 See the discussion in D. J. A. Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther (NCB; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans; London: Marshall, Morgan & Scott, 1984), p. 287, and A. Berlin, Esther (The JPS Bible Commentary; Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, 2001), pp. 24–25.
once upon a time . . .?
527
that ‘the similar [for which we might substitute ‘identical’] word order simply marks a shift of focus’. So it may, but there are also other ways of doing that, so that it hardly amounts to an explanation of what we have seen to be a somewhat rare construction.27 Should we then conclude that this is indeed an exception? Such a conclusion would not necessarily undermine our previous analysis, for the rules of grammar and syntax are not immutably written in the heavens but are merely our observation of how people customarily express themselves in a given language. Such rules cannot, therefore, be ‘broken’ as if they were legally binding, but rather particular speakers or writers may choose for whatever reason, conscious or more usually unconscious, to say or write things a little differently. Nevertheless, I wonder whether it is in fact necessary to appeal to that in the present instance. It may be remembered first that our clause introduces a short paragraph (Est 2.5–7) which from a narrative point of view interrupts the smooth sequence from 2.4 to 2.8.28 In addition, its emphasis on Mordecai, with Esther introduced only secondarily in v. 7, is contrary to the following verses, where Esther is the character whom we need first to know about (cf. v. 8), and where Mordecai appears only subsequently and, for the time being, only in a supportive role. And thirdly it gives us more information than is strictly necessary to understand the developments which will unfold in the next few scenes of the book. This applies in particular to Mordecai’s genealogy: ‘. . . son of Shimei son of Kish, a Benjaminite’. Commenting on this last point, Moore echoes the opinion of many commentators from antiquity to the present when he writes: Mordecai’s genealogical origins (vs. 5) are of no little concern to the author, for he wishes to establish that Mordecai is a descendant of Kish, whose son, Saul, conducted an inconclusive campaign to exterminate all the Amalekites (see 1 Sam xv). Haman, the villain of the
27
Similar considerations apply to the suggestion that the construction is merely to mark the start of a new narrative; so, for instance, G. Gerleman, Esther (BKAT, 21; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1973), p. 76, with reference to C. Brockelmann, Hebräische Syntax (Neukirchen: Verlag der Buchhandlung des Erziehungsvereins, 1956), §§48, 122n. 28 Cf. L. B. Paton, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Book of Esther (ICC; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1908), p. 172; Fox, Character, p. 29: ‘this passage sticks out by its parenthetical character (note how v. 8 follows naturally upon v. 4)’.
528
h. g. m. williamson story, is of course a descendant of the Amalekites . . . and therein lay the antipathy between the two.29
How far this parallel is taken varies from one commentator to another,30 but few, if any, deny that there is something in it. Elsewhere, Clines has written that ‘[i]t is an alert reader who at the first mention of Haman sees that the most important word in 3.1 is “the Agagite” and casts the plot that is yet to develop as a re-working of the old traditions of Israelite animosity toward the Amalekites’.31 If the case being presented here is correct, the ‘alert reader’ needs to be on duty already at 2.5–6 but has been helped to start looking out by the author’s provision of a syntactical pointer. I conclude, therefore, that of all the ways in which classical Hebrew narrative may begin, the use of an absolute x + hyh is restricted to those where the reader is being alerted to watch out, because there is more in what follows than meets the eye. Its use at least twice in what may loosely be called ‘a juridical parable’ means that it cannot be the equivalent of ‘once upon a time’, since that would ruin the rhetorical force of the passage. Equally, it need not necessarily point to the fact that what follows is not historical, in the popular use of that term, though in fact in my view that characterisation would fit each of the six passages where the construction occurs. Rather, the element which seems to unite all six is that there is an unexpected twist or development in what follows, requiring a heightened, quizzical attention by the reader. That does not, of course, mean that such attention may not also be required where the construction is absent (as Graeme’s many studies of Hebrew narrative have amply demonstrated), but its occurrence immediately has the effect of raising our expectations. There is no equivalent that I know of in any modern language, but that is a conclusion that could be writ large over much of the richness of classical Hebrew style and syntax.
29
C. A. Moore, Esther: Introduction, Translation, and Notes (AB, 7B; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1971), p. 26. 30 For a full discussion, see Berg, The Book of Esther, pp. 64 –70; see too W. McKane, ‘A Note on Esther ix and 1 Samuel xv’, JTS N.S. 12 (1961), pp. 260–61; E. Bickerman, Four Strange Books of the Bible (New York: Schocken Books, 1967), pp. 196–98. 31 D. J. A. Clines, The Esther Scroll: The Story of the Story ( JSOTSup, 30; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1984), p. 14.
GIDEON: A NEW MOSES? Gregory T. K. Wong In his 1989 article, ‘Gideon: Hacking at the Heart of the Old Testament’, Professor A. Graeme Auld argues from the numerous links forged between the Gideon narrative and other Old Testament traditions that the Gideon narrative in Judges 6–8 must have been an example of late biblical narrative.1 Among the Old Testament traditions noted is the exodus tradition, and particularly the narrative of Moses’ call. Although the interest of the present author is not specifically to prove the lateness of the Gideon narrative, this article nevertheless represents an attempt to follow up on one of Professor Auld’s arguments by further exploring the literary relationship between the exodus tradition and the Gideon narrative. It will be argued that similarities between the two, especially between the call narrative of Moses in Exodus 3–4 and the call narrative of Gideon in Judges 6, are indeed similarities by design, and that the latter was in fact consciously crafted to allude to the former for specific rhetorical purposes. That Gideon’s call narrative in Judges 6 bears a remarkable resemblance to Moses’ call narrative in Exodus 3–4 is something that has not escaped the notice of scholars. From the mid-1950s to the early 1970s, form critical scholars have especially used these two narratives as the basis for postulating a kind of narrative type-scene known as the call narrative.2 Similarities between call narratives are thus
1
VT 39, pp. 257–67. See, for example, E. Kutsch, ‘Gideons Berufung und Altarbau Jdc 6,11–24’, TLZ 81 (1956), pp. 75–84; N. Habel, ‘The Form and Significance of the Call Narrative’, ZAW 77 (1965), pp. 297–323; W. Richter, Die sogenannten vorprophetischen Berufungsberichte: Eine literaturwissenschaftliche Studie zu 1 Sam 9,1–10,16, Ex 3f. und Ri 6,11b–17 (FRLANT, 101; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1970). In fact, Habel, ‘Form and Significance’, p. 316, goes as far as to suggest that classical prophetic call narratives are actually appropriated and developed from the call traditions reflected in the structure of the calls of Moses and Gideon. He thus identifies the six main structural components to such call narratives as 1) the divine confrontation, 2) the introductory word, 3) the commission, 4) the objection, 5) the reassurance and 6) the sign. 2
530
gregory t. k. wong
explained in terms of their using the same basic underlying literary structure. This explanation has since been so widely accepted that even today scholars continue to explain the similarities between the call narratives of Moses and Gideon in terms of their belonging to the same type-scene.3 However, there are also others who without necessarily addressing the type-scene hypothesis hint at a more direct relationship between the two call narratives. Beyerlin, for example, argues that the original Gideon story has been worked over by a later redactor to transform it into a typical example of salvation history based on the exodus tradition.4 Similarly, Boling sees Gideon’s call narrative as a deliberate allusion to the call of Moses, with the promise of YHWH’s presence in Judges 6.16 being no less than a direct quote from Exodus 3.12.5 A further variation of this view is most recently represented by Schneider who while agreeing with Boling nonetheless sees the allusion to Moses and the exodus tradition as ironic and intending to highlight the degree to which Gideon and his generation have strayed from YHWH.6 Since Beyerlin sees the allusion to Moses as essentially casting a positive light on the Gideon narrative, Schneider’s understanding of the purpose of the allusion is thus almost directly opposite to that of Beyerlin. Faced with so many interpretive options, how does one determine which is most credible in terms of explaining the similarities between the call narratives of Gideon and Moses? As the following consideration of some significant similarities between the call narratives of
3
See, for example, Auld, ‘Gideon’, p. 258; B. Webb, The Book of Judges: An Integrated Reading ( JSOTSup, 46; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1987), p. 148; R. H. O’Connell, The Rhetoric of the Book of Judges (VTSup, 63; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1996), p. 148; D. I. Block, Judges, Ruth (NAC, 6; Nashville: Broadman & Holman, 1999), pp. 253, 257. 4 W. Beyerlin, ‘Geschichte und heilsgeschichtliche Traditionsbildung im Alten Testament: ein Beitrag zur Traditoinsgeschichte von Richter vi–viii’, VT 13 (1963), pp. 1–25. 5 R. G. Boling, Judges: Introduction, Translation and Commentary (AB, 6A; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1975), p. 132. 6 T. J. Schneider, Judges (Berit Olam; Collegeville, MN: The Liturgical Press, 2000), pp. 105–106. This view may also be hinted at by C. J. McCann, Judges (IBC; Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 2002), p. 64, who after noting the enormous expectations raised about Gideon’s tenure as judge and deliverer through parallels with other Old Testament worthies such as Moses comments that the Gideon story will not end on as high a note as it begins.
gideon: a new moses?
531
Gideon and Moses will show,7 the correspondences are on the whole far too close to be explained simply by appealing to the same type-scene. (1) The calls of both Moses and Gideon are presented in the immediate context as a response to Israel’s distress because of foreign oppression. Immediately prior to the narrative of Moses’ call, the Israelites are said in Exod 2.23 to have cried out to God (wq[zyw) under Egyptian oppression. The same crying out (wq[zyw) to YHWH by the Israelites under Midianite oppression is also seen in Judg 6.6 shortly before the narrative of Gideon’s call. It should be noted that in none of the other call narratives in Hebrew Scripture is the call of the protagonist presented as a direct response to the distress of God’s people under oppression. (2) At the beginning of the respective call narratives in Exod 3.2 and Judg 6.11–12, Moses and Gideon are met by the angel of YHWH (hwhy ˚alm), who is said in both cases to appear to the protagonist in question (wyla aryw). As Auld has pointed out, other than in Judg 13.3, hwhy ˚alm aryw plus the preposition la is found in Hebrew Scripture only in the two call narratives being considered.8 In fact, in none of the other call narratives does the hwhy ˚alm even play a role at all. This again seems to point to a unique literary relationship between these two particular call narratives. (3) Not only do the call narratives of Moses and Gideon have in common the appearance of the angel of YHWH, but in both cases, a switch between the angel of YHWH and YHWH within the narrative can also be discerned, so that by the time the commission is given, it is YHWH himself and not the angel who is presented as carrying on the dialogue with the respective protagonists. In the so-called J strand of the Exodus narrative, the switch takes place in Exod 3.4a, while in the Gideon narrative, 7 It should be noted that other similarities between the two narratives not discussed below have also be suggested. For example, Webb, Book of Judges, p. 148, mentions the presence in both accounts of a fire theophany that induces fear in the one called. But since the fire theophany in Moses’ call narrative takes place before Moses’ encounter with YHWH and functions as a means to draw Moses closer to the burning bush, while the fire theophany in the Gideon narrative takes place towards the end of Gideon’s encounter with YHWH and functions as a confirmation of YHWH’s identity, to this author, the two theophanies are not sufficiently similar to be included in the following discussion. 8 Auld, ‘Gideon’, p. 258.
532
gregory t. k. wong
the switch comes in Judg 6.14.9 While a certain degree of merging of identity between the angel of YHWH/God10 and YHWH/ God is also found elsewhere within Hebrew Scripture, it is noteworthy that only in the call narratives of Moses and Gideon does this merging of identity take place overtly at the level of narration.11 In other instances, this merging of identity is more subtle, such that it is discernable only through the reported speeches of the angel or the protagonists. In Gen 22.11–18, for example, it is consistently the angel of YHWH who carries on a dialogue with Abraham at the level of narration. It is only through the sudden use of the first person pronoun in the angel’s reported speech in 22.12 that one becomes aware that the angel may be none other than YHWH himself.12 Similarly, in Genesis 31.10–13, as Jacob recounts his encounter with the angel of God in a dream, it is the angel who spoke to him at the level of narration. It is only through the angel’s direct self-disclosure as the God of Bethel in 31.12–13 that one becomes aware that the angel is God himself. In Judg 13.2–23 too, it is consistently the angel of YHWH/God
9 Note that the LXX actually reads ı êggelow kur¤ou in 6.14 while the MT only has hwhy. But the LXX reading is probably due either to an inadvertent carry-over from 6.11 or 6.12, or to an attempt at harmonisation. In either case, the more difficult MT reading is to be preferred. 10 In the following discussion, the angel of God (μyhla[h] ˚alm) is basically considered functionally equivalent to the angel of YHWH. 11 It should be noted that not all are convinced that a merging of identity between the angel and YHWH has taken place in the Gideon narrative. Indeed, Boling, Judges, p. 131, speaks of Gideon as unknowingly carrying on a three-way conversation with both the angel and YHWH, suggesting therefore that the angel and YHWH are distinct characters who were both present and speaking with Gideon at the same time. But such an understanding is problematic on several counts. First, if the angel was visible to Gideon while, according to Boling, YHWH remained invisible, then how could Gideon not know that a three-way conversation was taking place since it would be obvious that there was a voice speaking to him that did not belong to the angel? And in what sense can the narrator actually speak in 6.14 of an invisible YHWH turning towards someone (wyla ˆpyw) to speak to him? And finally, if Gideon had indeed been speaking directly with the invisible voice of YHWH for the greater part of the conversation, then why should he seem more awed in 6.22 about having seen the largely silent angel of YHWH face to face? As it is, these problems would easily be solved if one sees some kind of a merging of identity between the angel of YHWH and YHWH in this narrative, such that the two are presented as the same character. 12 Compare the direct speech in Gen 22.12 with that in 22.15–19, where the use of the first person pronouns is clarified by the phrase ‘declares YHWH’ (hwhyAμan), thus turning the direct speech of the angel effectively into a reported speech conveyed on behalf of YHWH. But such a clarification is missing in 22.12.
gideon: a new moses?
533
who twice appears and speaks to Manoah and his wife at the level of narration. That this angel may be YHWH/God himself is only presented as Manoah’s recognition in 13.22. The same is again true in Gen 16.7–14. At the narrative level, it is consistently the angel of YHWH who carries on a dialogue with Hagar. Although one can argue that it is also the narrator who speaks of the angel as YHWH at the beginning of 16.13, it seems that this reference to the angel as YHWH is only in anticipation of Hagar’s perspective as the narrator immediately reports Hagar naming the well according to her understanding of her experience as having directly involved YHWH himself. In other words, in most instances where there appears to be a merging of identity between the angel of YHWH/God and YHWH/God himself in a narrative,13 this merging is usually introduced through reported direct speeches either as a self-disclosure by the angel or as a recognition by the protagonists. It is thus only in the call narratives of Moses and Gideon that this merging of identity is directly introduced by the narrator at the level of narration as the angel and YHWH are presented as essentially the same person appearing and speaking with the protagonist. From a literary perspective, this increases the likelihood that literary dependence is at play in the crafting of the two call narratives in question. (4) The protagonists in both cases appear to be tending to their father or father-in-law’s business when the angel appeared to them. In Moses’ case, he was tending his father-in-law’s flock (Exod 3.1), while in Gideon’s case, he was threshing wheat in a winepress under an oak belonging to his father ( Judg 6.11) when the angel appeared. (5) Both father figures seem to be connected to non-YHWHistic cults. While Moses’ father-in-law Jethro was a priest of Midian
13 In a few other instances where the angel of YHWH/God and YHWH/God appear together in the same narrative, the two are indeed to be understood as separate and distinct characters since one either speaks to the other or refers to the other in the third person. These include Gen 21.17–19; 2 Sam 24.16; 1 Chron 21.11–30; Zech 1.8–17; 3.1–10. The same may also be true of Num 22.21–38, since 22.31 speaks of YHWH opening Balaam’s eyes so that he sees ‘the angel of YHWH’ rather than simply ‘him’. Thus, although in Num 22.35, it is the angel who tells Balaam to speak only what he tells him, while in 22.38, Balaam tells Balak that he can only speak what God puts in his mouth, this may simply reflect the fact that Balaam understood the angel to be essentially a representative of God.
534
gregory t. k. wong
(Exod 3.1), Gideon’s father Joash apparently owned an altar to Baal and an Asherah pole ( Judg 6.25). (6) In both commissioning scenes, the verbs ‘to go’ (˚lh) and ‘to send’ (jlç) are present. But since these two verbs occur almost idiomatically in most call narratives,14 their presence in the call narratives of Moses and Gideon is in itself insufficient to suggest any direct literary relationship. What is interesting, however, is that it is only in these two call narratives that the specific commission is repeated almost exactly in the objection of the protagonists. In Exod 3.10, YHWH commissions Moses to go to Pharaoh and bring the sons of Israel out of Egypt (ym[Ata axwhw h[rpAla μyrxmm larçyAynb). Yet in Moses’ objection, it is exactly his suitability to be the one to go to Pharaoh to bring the sons of Israel out of Egypt (μyrxmm larçy ynbAta ayxwa ykw h[rpAla) that he questions in 3.11. Similarly, in Judg 6.14, YHWH specifically commissions Gideon to go and deliver Israel (larçyAta t[çwhw) from the hands of Midian. Yet in 6.15, it is exactly his ability to deliver Israel (larçyAta [yçwa hmb) that Gideon questions. In this respect, it is only in the call narratives of Moses and Gideon that the objection of the protagonist corresponds almost wordfor-word to the commission just given. In other call narratives such as Isaiah’s and Jeremiah’s, the objections raised by the protagonists (Isa 6.11; Jer 1.5–6) do not involve any restatement of their specific commission at all. (7) In both cases, YHWH immediately counters the protagonists’ objections with a promise of his presence. Furthermore, it is the identical ‘For I will be with you’ (˚m[ hyha yk) that opens YHWH’s response, with further assurances to follow. The fact that within Hebrew Scripture these are the only two times the exact clause ˚m[ hyha yk is found15 is probably what prompted Boling to argue for literary dependence of the Gideon narrative on Moses’ call narrative and to claim that Judg 6.16 is a direct quote of Exod 3.12.
14 Habel, ‘Form and Significance’, pp. 299, 304, 308, 311, specifically highlights the occurrence of both verbs not only in Exod 3.10 and Judg 6.14, but also in Isa 6.8–10 and Jer 1.7. 15 Admittedly, without the introductory yk, the clause ˚m[ hyha is also found in Gen 26.3 as YHWH’s promise to Isaac; in Gen 31.3 as YHWH’s promise to Jacob; and in Deut 31.23; Josh 1.5; 3.7 as YHWH’s promise to Joshua. However, none of these are considered call narrative type-scenes, and in none of these does the clause open a speech of YHWH in response to an objection by the protagonist.
gideon: a new moses?
535
From the above observations, it seems clear that the correspondences between the call narratives of Moses and Gideon are far closer than what one would normally expect from independent narratives that merely follow the same underlying form for a specific type-scene. To be sure, the two narratives do share the same literary structure common to call narrative type-scenes, but further correspondences such as matching settings (points 1, 4, 5 above), unique phrasings (points 2, 7 above), and a similar handling of narrative details (points 3, 6 above) seem clearly to point towards one of the two having been consciously crafted to serve as a parallel to the other. Therefore, the real question concerning the relationship between the two narratives should really be one of direction of dependence. Fortunately, the answer to this question seems neither difficult nor controversial. All evidence suggests that Moses’ call narrative is prior, and that the author of the Gideon narrative was consciously alluding to the account of Moses’ call. This is seen in the following ways. First, the author of the Gideon narrative openly refers to the exodus tradition in Judg 6.8–9, 13. What is noteworthy here is that even if one dismisses Judg 6.7–10 as a much later addition to the narrative,16 there is still Judg 6.13, where Gideon makes a comparison between Israel’s present situation and the deliverance he heard about in the exodus tradition. In fact, given the similarities between the two call narratives already noted, one cannot help but wonder if Gideon’s overt reference to the exodus tradition may not represent the author’s subtle invitation to his readers to continue making comparisons between the present deliverer and the one who once brought Israel out of Egypt. Second, other parallels to Moses and the exodus tradition outside Moses’ call are also present in the larger context of the Gideon narrative. At the end of Gideon’s encounter with the angel in Judg 6.22, for example, Gideon realises in fear that he has seen the angel of YHWH face to face (μynpAla μynp hwhy ˚alm ytyar ˆkAl[Ayk). 16
See, for example, J. A. Soggin, Judges: A Commentary (OTL; London: SCM, 2nd edition, 1987), p. 112; Auld, ‘Gideon’, p. 263. But Schneider, Judges, p. 102, arguing from a literary standpoint, considers Judg 6.7–10 relevant to the Gideon narrative because the placement of these verses contextualises and to some extent counteracts Gideon’s later statement. In any case, as will be shown in subsequent discussion, even if these verses are a late addition, they may still have been incorporated by the final redactor to serve a very specific rhetorical purpose, namely, to strengthen the book’s overall progressively deteriorating scheme.
536
gregory t. k. wong
Admittedly, the closest parallel to this statement is in Gen 32.31, where Jacob declares that he had seen God face to face (ytyarAyk μynpAla μynp μyhla) and yet his life was spared. Yet the phrase ‘face to face’ (μynpAla μynp) also has a special connection with Moses because it is twice used to describe Moses’ close relationship with YHWH in Exod 33.11 and Deut 34.10. Given that Moses is associated with two of the five times that the phrase occurs in Hebrew Scripture,17 one can argue that Judg 6.22 may in fact be aiming to link Gideon with Moses rather than with Jacob.18 If so, this would add weight to the argument that the author of the Gideon narrative may have been consciously trying to shape his portrayal of Gideon after Moses because parallels from traditions associated with Moses outside his call narrative have also been incorporated. Moreover, further parallels in the Gideon narrative with wider exodus traditions can also be found. As will be discussed later, the description of the Midianite oppressors as locusts in Judg 6.4–5; 7.12 reminds one of the plague of locusts upon the Egyptians in Exod 10.1–20. In addition, Gideon’s eventual manufacturing of the golden ephod that ensnared Israel in Judg 8.24–27 also seems to echo Aaron’s manufacturing of the golden calf in Exod 32.1–6. What all of this shows is that even within the larger Gideon narrative, significant parallels exist that link the narrative with various traditions concerning Israel’s exodus out of Egypt. While one can still insist that the Gideon narrative is prior and that it is the author of Exodus who shaped his account after the Gideon narrative, given the centrality of the exodus tradition in the shaping of Israel’s national identity, and the fact that Gideon’s deliverance is at best of marginal historical significance, it is hard to see why the author of Exodus would want to pattern the call of Moses, the nation’s founding father, after that of a flawed deliverer such as Gideon, who only played a minor role in the nation’s history. By patterning the call of Gideon after that of Moses, however, the author of the Gideon narrative would immediately be able to reap definite rhetorical benefits. For
17 The phrase is used once more in Ezek 20.35 to describe YHWH executing judgement on Israel face to face. 18 Boling, Judges, p. 134, actually argues further that the reason the author of the Gideon narrative has Gideon seeing YHWH’s envoy face to face is ‘so that Gideon’s invisible Lord may enter into direct negotiations with Gideon, as he had with Moses’.
gideon: a new moses?
537
as his audience began noticing the various parallels with Moses, their expectations would immediately be raised concerning their protagonist, so that attention would now be directed at discovering whether or not Gideon would turn out to be a new Moses for the nation. So, does Gideon live up to the expectations placed on him through the manner of his introduction? The answer to this question is perhaps what differentiates the view of Beyerlin from that of Schneider. For while Beyerlin sees Gideon being portrayed essentially as Moses’ successor,19 Schneider sees mainly irony in the comparison. For Schneider, the irony basically centres around the fact that, while Moses’ response to the angel was appropriate since the defining act of salvation for the nation was still unfolding, a similar response on the part of Gideon was no longer appropriate since he already had Moses and the exodus tradition as precedent. Thus, for Schneider, the greatest irony is found in the fact that Gideon and his generation had to be reminded by a prophet of how YHWH had led their forefathers out of Egypt,20 and that even so, Gideon still considered that event to be so old as to demand further proof of YHWH’s power and role for his generation.21 But a careful examination of the text reveals at least two further significant ironic contrasts22 that Schneider has not emphasised.
19 Beyerlin, ‘Geschichte und heilsgeschichtliche Traditionsbildung’, pp. 9–10, 24. For a similar view, see also Block, Judges, p. 257. 20 Schneider, Judges, pp. 106–107. 21 Schneider, Judges, p. 105. 22 Actually, some see yet another ironic contrast that involves the giving of signs in the two call narratives. After all, although form critics generally cite the giving of signs as a significant feature of call narrative type-scenes, among call narratives, it is only in the calls of Moses and Gideon that the word twa actually appears. In Exod 3.12; 4.8, 9, 17, twa appears four times, while Judg 6.17 represents the only time twa occurs in Judges. But while in the call narrative of Moses, YHWH takes the initiative to provide Moses with signs, in Gideon’s case, it is Gideon who takes the initiative to seek a sign. Since within the Gideon narrative, Gideon’s repeated need for supernatural signs to reassure him of YHWH’s promised victory (for example, Judg 6.36–40 and 7.9–15, which specifically states that the reassurance is needed only if Gideon is afraid) is generally seen as an indication of a lack of faith, one can argue that Gideon’s taking the initiative to ask for a sign thus contrasts his faith with that of Moses. But there may be a slight problem in this interpretation. For although the first sign YHWH offers Moses in Exod 3.12 is indeed for Moses’ personal benefit, the fulfilment of that sign would only take place after Moses has successfully completed his commission. Therefore the sign as such does not function to provide Moses with the necessary assurance to embark upon his commission. As for the following set of signs given to Moses in Exod 4.2–9 and mentioned again in 4.17, although at first glance, these were given specifically for those who
538
gregory t. k. wong
First, as Schneider has in fact noticed, while the Midianites are apparently on friendly terms with Moses in Exod 2.15–22; 3.1, providing refuge for him when he first fled Egypt, they have become Israel’s enemy and oppressor in the Gideon narrative.23 Now if Beyerlin is right in his assertion that Gideon’s eventual victory over them was rooted in historical reality,24 then the fact that the Midianites happen to play a role in both narratives may simply be a matter of historical coincidence. But even so, from a literary standpoint, one can still argue that the author’s portrayal of the Midianites in the Gideon narrative represents an attempt to capitalise on the presence of the Midianites in both narratives to draw a contrast between two different situations. For not only is the belated hostility of the Midianites now explained in Judg 6.1 as a punishment from YHWH for the evil Israel did in his eyes, the repeated description of the oppressors as swarms of locusts in Judg 6.3–5; 7.12 may also be a calculated reminder of the plague of locusts YHWH sent upon Egypt in Exod 10.14–15. To begin with, although no less than ten words are used in Hebrew Scripture to refer to various kinds of locusts and grasshoppers,25 it is hbra that appears in both the Moses and Gideon narratives. In fact, Exod 10.4, 12, 13, 14, 19 and Judg 6.5; 7.12 are the only times hbra or any reference to locusts are found in either book.
might not believe Moses or listen to him, yet they were also given in response to Moses’ concern that he would not be taken seriously. In this regard, one can actually say that although the signs seem to have been given for others’ benefit, they are at the same time also for Moses’ benefit, to reassure him that he would indeed be taken seriously. Thus, although it is true that Moses has not specifically asked for signs in so many words, inasmuch as the signs were given in response to his expressed concern so as to provide him with the necessary assurance to embark upon his commission, they may not be all that different in nature from the sign Gideon requested. 23 Schneider, Judges, p. 105. Actually, according to Judg 6.3, 33; 7.12, the oppressors also include the Amalekites and other eastern people. But as the narrative unfolds, the focus seems to have fallen primarily on the Midianites. 24 Beyerlin, ‘Geschichte und heilsgeschichtliche Traditionsbildung’, pp. 24–25. 25 These include hbra in Exod 10.4, 12, 13, 14, 19; Lev 11.22; Deut 28.38; Judg 6.5; 7.12; 1 Kgs 8.37; 2 Chron 6.28; Job 39.20; Pss 78.46; 105.34; 109.23; Prov 30.27; Jer 46.23; Joel 1.4; 2.25; Nah 3.15,17; qly in Ps 105.34; Jer 51.14, 27; Joel 1.4; 2.25; Nah 3.15, 16; lysj in 1 Kgs 8.37; 2 Chron 6.28; Ps 78.46; Isa 33.4; Joel 1.4; 2.25; bgj in Lev 11.22; Num 13.33; 2 Chron 7.13; Qoh 12.5; Isa 40.22; μzg in Joel 1.4; 2.25; Amos 4.9; ybg in Amos 7.1; Nah 3.17; lxlx in Deut 28.42; μ[ls in Lev 11.22; lgrj in Lev 11.22; and bg in Isa 33.4.
gideon: a new moses?
539
In addition, although hbra is the most common term for locusts and references to locusts are indeed frequently associated with divine judgement, in the majority of cases, these references are very brief and contain little or no descriptive detail. But such is not the case in the Moses and Gideon narratives. In fact, not only are the descriptions of the onslaught of real locusts in Exodus and of the locustlike Midianites in Judges among the most elaborate,26 even the way they are described is very similar. For example, while in Exod 10.14, the locusts are described as advancing against (l[ hl[) and settling down (jwn) in all Egypt, in Judg 6.3–4, the locust-like Midianites are also described as advancing against (l[ hl[) and camping out (hnj) on the land. Here, it is especially worth noting that other than in Joel 1.6, these are the only two times in Hebrew Scripture that locust or locust-like invaders are spoken of in military terms as advancing against (l[ hl[) a land. Furthermore, in both narratives, the report of this invasion is immediately followed by a description of the settling down of the invaders (jwn in Exod 10.14 and hnj in Judg 6.4). This is then followed by a detailed description of the damages each swarm did, with the greatness of their number also being emphasised (Exod 10.14–15; Judg 6.4–5). In this regard, it is significant that such a sequence of descriptive detail is found in no other report of locust or locust-like invasion within Hebrew Scripture except in the two narratives in question. Moreover, even the description of the damages each swarm did bears a certain resemblance. While the locusts are said in Exod 10.15 to have devoured all the vegetation until ‘nothing was left of the greenery on the trees and on the plants of the field in all the land of Egypt’, the locust-like Midianites are said in Judg 6.4 to have ruined the crops and ‘not spared a living thing in Israel, neither sheep nor cattle nor donkey’. Here it should be noted that each of the above descriptions begins with a verb of destruction (lka in Exod 10.15 and tjç in Judg 6.4) and has a general term for vegetation (bç[ in Exod 10.15 and lwby in Judg 6.4) as its direct object. The completeness of the destruction is then emphasised in the following clause in which a verb connoting some form of sparing is categorically negated (rtwnAalw in Exod 10.15 and wryaçyAalw in Judg 6.4). The specific items not spared are then also listed in detail. 26 Perhaps it is only in the book of Joel that one can find a more elaborate description of a locust or locust-like invasion.
540
gregory t. k. wong
Given the almost meticulous structural parallels in the description of the two invading forces, one can certainly argue that the author of the Gideon narrative was consciously equating Israel’s Midianite oppressors with the locusts sent by YHWH against Egypt. If so, what the author of the Gideon narrative may be subtly pointing out is that, unlike in the exodus tradition, where YHWH sends locusts upon Israel’s oppressors in order to save his people, in the Gideon narrative, Israel’s locust-like oppressors, also sent by YHWH, are now directed against his own people as a punishment for their apostasy. This implies that in Gideon’s case, true deliverance from Israel’s oppressors must involve more than just dealing with the oppressors themselves, but that, at some level, the apostasy that is the root cause of oppression must also be dealt with. Otherwise Israel would never be able to truly rid herself of oppressors, as the cycles of oppression already documented earlier in the book clearly show. This leads to the second ironic contrast between the two narratives. In the call narrative of Moses, the principal task to which Moses is commissioned in Exod 3.10 is to bring the Israelites out of Egypt. But after this commission has been given, in 3.16–22, YHWH continues to issue a series of specific commands to Moses that seem to represent specific steps to bring about the ultimate fulfilment of that commission. The first of these commands, given in 3.16–17, requires Moses to return to Egypt27 in order to assemble the elders of Israel, so that the words of YHWH can be conveyed to them. Significantly, at the end of the call scene when Moses’ dialogue with YHWH is finally over, what is immediately reported in Exod 4.18–20, 29–30 is Moses’ exact fulfilment of the first of YHWH’s specific instructions. Furthermore, one sees in 4.31 that the reception Moses received from the elders is entirely positive, just as YHWH had earlier foretold in 3.18a. In the Gideon narrative, after Gideon received his commission to deliver Israel in his encounter with YHWH, on that same night, he also received a second command to demolish his father’s idolatrous
27 The specific command to return to Egypt is actually not reported in Exod 3.16–17, but only mentioned in retrospect in Exod 4.19. But since the elders were still being enslaved in Egypt at the time, implicit in the command of 3.16–17 to go and assemble them is the need for Moses to first return to Egypt.
gideon: a new moses?
541
altar and cultic object and to build a proper altar on which to offer acceptable offerings to YHWH ( Judg 6.25–26). Although the inclusion of the following episode arising from this command has always been thought of as having been motivated either by aetiological interest in the name Jerub-Baal or by a desire to preserve an ancient tradition about how a Canaanite sanctuary had become Israelite,28 a case can nonetheless be made that this episode is actually rhetorically significant within the overall narrative in its current form. For if the earlier assertion concerning the likening of the Midianites to locusts truly does function to further emphasise the fact that the oppression Israel had to face was punishment from God for their apostasy, then it is only to be expected that the apostasy which is the root cause of the oppression and whose presence is made unmistakably clear in Judg 6.29–36 must somehow be dealt with before the desired deliverance would come. Against such a necessity, one might object that the oppressions mentioned earlier in the book are equally attributed to apostasy, yet none of the earlier judges had to first deal with apostasy before they delivered Israel. However, it should also be pointed out that even though apostasy as a root cause for oppression has indeed been introduced in Judg 2.10–15 and is repeatedly reiterated in each of the early judge cycles, until the Gideon cycle, this perspective has not received significant emphasis. For in the early cycles, apostasy as a root cause for oppression is only briefly mentioned in an introductory statement to each cycle, but has otherwise not been brought up again within those narratives. It is only from the Gideon narrative onwards that a greater emphasis is put on apostasy as a real problem that needs to be dealt with. After all, in the current canonical form of the book, it is in the Gideon cycle that Israel’s cry of distress is for the first time not immediately met with the raising up of a deliverer, but rather with an unexpected prophetic rebuke focusing on the nation’s repeated apostasy. In fact, this increased emphasis on continuing apostasy posing an obstacle to Israel’s deliverance is also found in the following cycle, where Israel’s cry is again met by another rebuke for
28 For further discussion of these options, see B. Lindars, ‘Gideon and Kingship’, JTS 16 (1965), pp. 315–26; H. Haag, ‘Gideon-Jerubbaal-Abimelek’, ZAW 79 (1967), pp. 305–14; J. A. Emerton, ‘Gideon and Jerubbaal’, JTS 27 (1976), pp. 291–312.
542
gregory t. k. wong
her apostasy, this time not just by a prophet, but by YHWH himself, who is no longer willing even to accept Israel’s initial show of repentance.29 This suggests that the increasing emphasis on apostasy as a real problem may well be a significant rhetorical device that reinforces the overall progressively deteriorating scheme inherent in the final form of the book.30 While in the initial cycles, the emphasis is on YHWH’s gracious intervention on Israel’s behalf in spite of her apostasy, as it becomes apparent after a few cycles that deliverances through the various judges would only give way to renewed apostasy, the emphasis subtly begins to shift, so that Israel is increasingly being forced to reckon with the fact that she must somehow deal with her apostasy if indeed she desires deliverance from her oppressors. If this is the case, then the prophetic rebuke, as well as the portrayal of the Midianite oppressors as locusts, may actually function to draw attention to this particular need, as does YHWH’s nocturnal instructions to Gideon. Thus, to the extent that the instructions Gideon received to demolish his father’s idolatrous altar and cultic object and to build a proper altar on which to offer acceptable offerings to YHWH represent a symbolic first step in dealing directly with Israel’s apostasy, these instructions parallel the instructions Moses received in Exod 3.16–18 in that both represent the necessary first step towards the ultimate fulfilment of their respective commissions. But it is here that a subtle contrast is hinted at. For if Moses is presented as having carried out those first steps impeccably, the same cannot be said of Gideon. To be sure, Gideon did go and do as
29 Admittedly, this emphasis on apostasy as a real problem does not seem to have been present overtly in the final cycle involving Samson. But if Samson’s repeated dalliance with foreign women is indeed to be understood at one level as symbolic of Israel’s repeated apostasy, as Gros Louis and Greenstein have suggested, then rather than disappearing in the final cycle, the emphasis on apostasy as the root cause of Israel’s trouble may actually have suffused the entire Samson narrative. See K. R. R. Gros Louis, ‘The Book of Judges’, in K. R. R. Gros Louis, J. S. Ackerman and T. S. Warshaw (eds.), Literary Interpretations of Biblical Narratives (The Bible in Literature Courses; Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1974), pp. 141–62, and E. L. Greenstein, ‘The Riddle of Samson’, Proof 1 (1981), pp. 237–60. 30 This deteriorating scheme has been noticed by numerous scholars. See, for example, J. P. U. Lilley, ‘A Literary Appreciation of the Book of Judges’, TynBul 18 (1967), pp. 94–102; D. M. Gunn, ‘Joshua and Judges’, in R. Alter and F. Kermode (eds.), The Literary Guide to the Bible (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1987), pp. 102–21; and J. C. Exum, ‘The Centre Cannot Hold: Thematic and Textual Instabilities in Judges’, CBQ 52 (1990), pp. 410–31.
gideon: a new moses?
543
YHWH told him, but the narrator immediately qualifies his report by disclosing that Gideon only carried out YHWH’s instructions under the protection of the night instead of during the day, because he feared his family and the men of the town. In fact, in the following scene where the townsfolk discover in the morning what has been done and demand retribution, Gideon is strangely absent. It is rather his father, Joash, who speaks up on his behalf and gets him out of trouble. Therefore, even though Gideon was admittedly obedient to the instructions he was given, unlike Moses, who braved mortal danger to return to Egypt, Gideon’s obedience is presented as lacking in conviction and somewhat compromised, as he is apparently reluctant to risk his personal safety to take an open stand for YHWH against the rampant idolatry of his day. This therefore sets up a certain tension as one wonders whether Gideon will in the end live up to his potential as a Moses-like deliverer who would deliver Israel in a way his predecessors in the book could not. But one actually does not need to wait for the onset of the next cycle to find this out, for even before the Gideon narrative comes to an end, the issue of apostasy is once again brought into focus. In this way, the unspoken question the author sets up at the beginning of the narrative is almost directly answered. As it turns out, even though YHWH did use Gideon to bring about a military victory against Israel’s current oppressors, that deliverance was destined to be short-lived. For after the Midianites have been routed and their leaders executed, Gideon suddenly took on the role of an Aaron who led Israel into apostasy. This connection with Aaron is seen in that the manufacturing of the golden ephod by Gideon in Judg 8.24–27 bears a definite resemblance to the manufacturing of the golden calf by Aaron in Exod 32.1–6.31 After all, Aaron’s golden calf and Gideon’s golden ephod are the only two cultic objects mentioned in Hebrew Scripture that are specifically said to be made from gold earrings (bhzh ymzn),32 and in both cases, these are gold earrings that Israelites willingly contributed upon the request of their leaders. Unfortunately, in both cases, the cultic
31
This has also been noted by O’Connell, Rhetoric of the Book of Judges, pp. 162–63; McCann, Judges, p. 70; and G. J. Wenham, Story as Torah: Reading the Old Testament Ethically (Old Testament Studies; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2000) p. 126. 32 In fact, Exod 32.2–3 and Judg 8.24, 26 are the only incidents where bhz(h) ymzn appear in either book.
544
gregory t. k. wong
object in question also turns out to be a source of idolatry for the people. But within the Gideon narrative, the report of this act of apostasy is significant not only in itself, but also in relationship to Gideon’s introduction. For not only does this incident bring the narrative back full circle to show that Gideon is, after all, not a new Moses, but just an old Aaron, and Aaron at his worst, in hindsight, one can also see how his initial reluctance to openly take a stand against apostasy may foreshadow his eventual succumbing to apostasy as well.33 Moreover, to the extent that the golden ephod he manufactured is said in 8.27 not only to have ensnared himself and his family, but also to cause all Israel to prostitute herself after it, it is abundantly clear that whatever deliverance Gideon managed to bring about against the Midianites was not a deliverance that would last. For since Gideon ended up leading Israel down the same path that prompted YHWH to allow the Midianites to oppress Israel in the first place, it would thus only be a matter of time before YHWH brings another oppressor onto the scene to punish his people for their new-found apostasy. In summary, it has been argued in this essay that similarities between the call narratives of Moses and Gideon are best accounted for by conscious literary dependence rather than by appealing to the same type-scene. Furthermore, all evidence seems to point to the priority of the exodus tradition, so that it is the author of the Gideon narrative who alluded to that tradition as he constructed his narrative about Gideon. That this is so is further substantiated by the fact that a definite rhetorical purpose for alluding to Moses is readily discernible. For by shaping Gideon’s call after that of Moses, the author was immediately able to create suspense and focus the audience’s attention on the question of whether or not Gideon would turn out to be a new Moses. However, being a skilful storyteller, this author also took care to leave subtle clues that would hint at the final outcome. By portraying Israel’s Midianite oppressors in a similar fashion as the locusts YHWH sent upon the Egyptians in Moses’ day,
33 Webb, Book of Judges, p. 153, thinks it is ironic that the one who initially championed against Baal ended up presiding over national apostasy. But in support of the view that Gideon’s initial reluctance actually foreshadows his ultimate failure, see O’Connell, Rhetoric of the Book of Judges, pp. 152–53.
gideon: a new moses?
545
the author tried to draw attention to the root cause of Israel’s current problem: apostasy. And by showing Gideon as less than wholehearted in his first assignment to deal with that very apostasy, the author actually anticipated Gideon’s own downfall and ultimate failure truly to deliver his people. As it turns out, Gideon was no new Moses.
THE SEVENTY SONS OF ATHIRAT, THE NATIONS OF THE WORLD, DEUTERONOMY 32.6B, 8–9, AND THE MYTH OF DIVINE ELECTION N. Wyatt This paper, a short one for so long a title, is offered with great pleasure to Graeme Auld, who has proved a stimulating colleague and friend over many years, always alerting me to the fact that there are many ways of telling a story, not least among historians who sometimes wonder whether there is a story to tell. In the Ugaritic text KTU 1.4 vi 46 the poet Ilimilku refers to ‘the seventy sons of Athirat’ (“b'm bn aΔrt). This is the only reference so far appearing in Ugaritian tradition concerning the ‘precise’ number of the gods. None of the extant pantheon lists1 remotely approaches seventy deities in number, and while considerable numbers of divine epithets have been isolated,2 we would be hard-pressed even to find seventy different divine persons. It seems likely that the number is rhetorical, and is intended to represent the idea of totality (10 x 7): it is in effect, perhaps, a literary or rather arithmetical figure for ‘all the gods’,3 as in the comparable designations in Ugaritic bn il(m), ‘the sons of El’ (or more prosaically, ‘the gods’) or dr bn il (‘the family of the sons of El’, or more prosaically, ‘the family of the gods’). The terms ‘sons’ and ‘gods’ in these formulae probably denote ‘children’ and ‘gods and goddesses’ or ‘deities’, rather than restricting themselves to male figures. Whether the Ugaritic expression “b'm bn aΔrt conveyed any political overtones, such as the cosmological idea of all the nations of the world, which we may discern in the Hebrew
1 On the structure of the so-called ‘canonical lists’ see N. Wyatt, ‘Understanding Polytheism: Structure and Dynamic in a West Semitic Pantheon’, Journal of Higher Criticism 5 (1998), pp. 24–63. 2 J. C. de Moor, ‘The Semitic Pantheon of Ugarit’, UF 2 (1970), pp. 187–228. For Baal’s epithets see N. Wyatt, ‘The Titles of the Ugaritic Storm-God’, UF 24 (1992), pp. 403–24. 3 The ‘Enneads’ of Egypt may serve as analogues: inspired in all probability by the Ennead of Heliopolis, which itself underwent modification over time, they vary in number from city to city, but always serve to group a local pantheon in a ‘total’ form.
548
n. wyatt
usage to be discussed below, we have no means of knowing on presently available evidence. It is a possibility. The interpretation of the number seventy as having some sense of ‘totality’ is not without further justification from the texts from Ugarit. At KTU 1.6 i 18–28, Anat offers seventy sacrifices in each of a number of categories: bulls, oxen, stags, mountain-goats and antelopes, at Baal’s funeral obsequies; KTU 1.12 ii 48–49 refers to Baal’s ‘seventy brothers . . . eighty . . .’, where the ‘eighty’ is the b term in the numerical progression, balancing ‘seventy’ as the a term; while at KTU 1.15 iv 5, Keret summons his ‘seventy commanders . . . eighty leaders . . .’, 4 using the same figure. In the former case this is, as it were, an Ugaritian equivalent to the Greek hecatomb, while in the latter instances, the parallel ‘eighty’ is for rhetorical purposes only, the ‘seventy’ here being dominant, controlling the thrust of the idiom. The number seventy comes up again in a biblical context, but this time by implication only, in the famous crux in Deuteronomy 32. Since this appears to be concerned with the number of deities in a pantheon, in this case a set of divine world-rulers, it is not inappropriate to link it provisionally with the idiom of KTU 1.4 vi 46, or at any rate to suggest that the two idioms may be conceptually associated, and that one may perhaps elucidate the other. But let us not prejudge the issue, since other possibilities have been entertained in the history of interpretation, as we shall see. The relevant verses (Deut 32.6b, 8–9) read as follows, with prosodic analysis to the right: 6b halô"-hû" "àbîkà *qonekà hû" 'à≤ ekà wayekònenekà 8
behan˙èl 'elyôn gôyim behaprîdô benê "àdàm yaßßèb gebulòt 'ammîm lemispar benê yi≤rà"èl
Is he not your father, your progenitor? He made you and begot you . . .
abcd bcd
When The Most High dispersed the nations, when he scattered the sons of Adam,
abcd
he set up the boundaries of the nations in accordance with the number of the sons of X.
abc de
a(b)cd
4 N. Wyatt, Religious Texts from Ugarit (The Biblical Seminar, 53; London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2nd edn, 2002) pp. 130, 167 and 214 respectively. The second of these possibly refers back to the number of Athirat’s offspring, construed as the ‘brothers’ of Baal.
the seventy sons of athirat kî ˙èleq yhwh 'ammô
9
But the allotment of Yahweh was his kinsman, Jacob the portion of his inheritance.
ya'aqòb ˙ebel na˙alàtô
549 abcd db(c)
There has long been a division of opinion concerning the meaning of these lines, in particular the precise implications of verses 8 and 9, where I have thus far avoided a decision on the precise reading of the final word in the earlier verse by leaving it untranslated (‘sons of X’). I have cited v. 6b as germane to the issue, and shall begin by offering a commentary on key terms in the text. 1. Verse 6ba, MT qanekà The term is perhaps better read as participial qònê (with suffix qonekà), in internal parallelism with "àbîkà. The two terms are best seen as synonymous rather than merely complementary, the two titular forms then balanced and explicated by the following two finite verbal forms. The basis for this judgement may seem subjective, but is essentially stylistic: rather than one nominal form balanced by three verbal forms (thus MT), on my analysis we have two substantives balanced by two verbs, each colon containing four elements. The repointing also allows a further assonance to operate (the final term of each colon in v. 6). This balance also tells in favour of taking the second hû" with the second colon, resuming its use in the first. To the form qònê cf. Gen 14.19, 22, reflecting an old Northwest Semitic title *qny arß, preserved in the Hittite divine name Elkunir“a, both forms denoting El’s paternal role as ‘El, generator of the world (or: earth)’. On the sexual nuance of 3qny (qnh), which may well be disputed by some readers, we should compare the designation of Athirat in Ugarit as qnyt ilm, ‘mother of the god(s)’.5 While in this designation the gods are generally taken to be plural, so that it is precisely the equivalent to the formula of KTU 1.4 vi 46 discussed above, it is possible that, given the royal aspect of the cult of Athirat, analogous to that of Asherah in Israel, we should read the ilm as singular with enclitic, so that we have in effect the Ugaritic equivalent of the Greek title YeotÒkow. At any rate, the Ugaritic demonstrates the possibility that the term qònê can have a reproductive sense.
5
KTU 1.4 i 22; 1.4 iii 30.
550
n. wyatt 2. Verse 6bb, MT wayekònenekà
The same internal parallelism applies here: 'à≤ ekà, ‘made’ is parallel to yekònenekà, ‘begot you’. The latter term surely has this procreative sense rather than ‘established you’ or the like.6 The assonance between qonekà and y ekòn eneka is noteworthy, as is the use of no less than four synonymous terms for ‘father’ ("àbîkà, qonekà, 'à≤ ekà, and yekòneneka, where the straightforward term, "àbîkà is expanded in all possible permutations with recherché and poetic terms). Thus enormous emphasis is placed on the parental relationship of the deity to Israel, and it is further enhanced by the rhetorical device whereby this (but how much of this?) is a question (demanding the answer ‘yes!’) addressed directly to the son. The reader naturally identifies himself with this son. The language of divine sonship belongs in the context of royal ideology, and here the member of the community of Israel is an extension of the king’s persona, which represents the nation, on a pars pro toto basis. The same royal metaphor for the nation is found in Hos 11.1. We may reasonably ask whether the halô"-hû" of the first colon (6ba) is not to be construed as doing double duty, echoed in the hû"
6 Cf. N. Wyatt, ‘The Theogony Motif in Ugarit and the Bible’, in G. J. Brooke, A. H. W. Curtis, and J. F. Healey (eds.), Ugarit and the Bible (UBL, 11; Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 1994), pp. 395–419 (414, and n. 62) = N. Wyatt, ‘There’s Such Divinity Doth Hedge a King’: Selected Essays of Nicolas Wyatt on Royal Ideology in Ugaritic and Old Testament Literature (SOTS Monographs; London: Ashgate, 2005), pp. 85–101 (97, and n. 62). The later Christian creedal distinction between ‘begotten’ and ‘made’ would be meaningless in this intellectual context. Cf. too the language of Isa 44.2, a text alluded to below, in which we have the following formulation: kòh-"àmar yhwh Thus says Yahweh: 'ò≤ekà your maker, yea, the one who fashioned you from the womb, weyòßerkà mibbe†en your sustainer . . . ya'zerekà This is the language, not of ‘making’, as at first glance to the unwary reader, but of ‘begetting’. It should be remembered that the ideological background to this kind of discourse is Egyptian royal ideology, which finds many echoes in biblical passages on kingship. In Egyptian texts and iconography, the king is both begotten as a natural son by the high god Amun on the queen, and at the same time is fashioned along with his Ka on the potter’s wheel of Khnum, the ram-god of Elephantine. The latter concept is echoed in the biblical use of the terms yàßar and yòßer. The juncture of the two metaphors comes out particularly clearly in Genesis 2 and also in Jer 1.5, a passage which is close in formulation to the above. See further N. Wyatt, ‘Echoes of the King and his Ka: an Ideological Motif in the Story of Solomon’s Birth’, UF 19 (1987), pp. 399–404 = Wyatt, ‘There’s Such Divinity’, pp. 49–53.
the seventy sons of athirat
551
of the second colon (6bb), in which case the entire bicolon constitutes the question, rather than being a question posed in a which is then answered in b. We could then propose the following modified translation of v. 6b: Is he not your father, your progenitor? Did he not make you and beget you?
Such a sense certainly contains more dynamism than the rather lame question and answer of the former construal.7 The repetition of the question almost reinforces the implicit answer, which the reader is invited to supply. 3. Verse 8aa, MT behan˙èl: lit. ‘sieved out’ (hiphil) For this understanding see the appeal to parallelism by G. R. Driver.8 This is to see han˙èl as derived from 3n¢l rather than from 3n˙l. The latter form, ‘inheritance’, appears in v. 9, and no doubt the poet plays deliberately on the similarity of the terms for different concepts. They are undoubtedly related etymologically, but the differentiation between them is best preserved as in Driver’s suggestion. The two gutturals, appearing as ¢ and ˙ in Arabic and Ugaritic, were assimilated to the one form ˙ in Hebrew. It is preferable to recognise a word-play in the Hebrew, rather than to assimilate the two forms. It is uncertain whether there is here a covert allusion to the Babel tradition, which referred to the dispersal of the inhabitants of the city. Perhaps, if we are to read it thus, Babel may stand for Jerusalem as well as for Babylon, as it undoubtedly does in Genesis 11, being perhaps an allusion to exile.9 In this case we are to read the passage as postexilic, deliberately alluding to Genesis, and explaining firstly the fact of dispersion (sc. of Judah), and secondly
7 See already S. R. Driver, Deuteronomy (ICC; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1895), p. 350. 8 G. R. Driver, ‘Three Notes’, VT 2 (1952), pp. 356–57. 9 Cf. the similar ‘double-take’ of the narratives of Jacob’s dream in Genesis 28, where Jacob’s pillow serves as both the Jerusalem omphalos and as the ziggurat in Babylon (see N. Wyatt, ‘Where did Jacob Dream his Dream?’, SJOT 2 [1990], pp. 44–57); and Moses’ vision in Exodus 3 (see N. Wyatt, ‘The Significance of the Burning Bush’, VT 36 [1986], pp. 361–65 = N. Wyatt, The Mythic Mind: Essays on Cosmology in Ugaritic and Old Testament Literature [BibleWorld; London: Equinox, 2005], pp. 13–17), where the desert location signifies exile, while the bush evokes the temple menorah.
n. wyatt
552
Yahweh’s election of the righteous among them. However, such thoughts are strictly speculative, if attractive to a full hermeneutic. 4. Verse 8aa, MT 'elyôn This term, in this form (e.g., Ps 82.6) or the divine name "èl 'elyôn, El Most High’, occurs both in the Bible (e.g., Gen 14.18–22, where he is identified with Yahweh) and in the wider ancient Near Eastern context.10 In Eusebius, Praeparatio Evangelicae 1.10.15 the two parts of the divine title appear as separate deities. ‘
5. Verse 8ab, MT behaprîdô This term is quite forceful in its emphasis on the separation and isolation of people from one another, and geographical dispersal. 11 It confirms the approach taken by Driver with respect to behan˙èl in 8aa, whereas the usual understanding ‘give (as) inheritance’ ( JPS ‘gave . . . their homes’) lacks any coherence in the context. 6. Verse 8ba, MT as above Targum adds ‘seventy’. 7. Verse 8bb, MT reads yi≤rà"èl, ‘Israel’ LXX reads égg°lvn YeoË, ‘the angels of God’, which presupposes the Hebrew *benê "èlîm or benê (hà)"elòhîm, ‘the sons of El’ or ‘the sons of God’. The Qumran Deuteronomy fragment from Cave 4 (bny "lhym),12 Old Latin, Symmachus and Syrohexapla all support this
10 See M. H. Pope, El in the Ugaritic Texts (VTSup, 2; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1955), pp. 55–57; R. Rendtorff, ‘The Background of the Title ˆwOyl][, in Gen xiv’, in Fourth World Congress of Jewish Studies ( Jerusalem: World Union of Jewish Studies, 1967), pp. 167–70; F. M. Cross, Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic: Essays in the History of the Religion of Israel (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1973), pp. 50–52; M. S. Smith, The Early History of God (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2nd edn, 2002), p. 56, n. 106. 11 HALOT 3:962b–963a. 12 See Smith, Early History, p. 32, n. 43, with bibliography.
the seventy sons of athirat
553
reading.13 The former of the two Hebrew proposals, with paternity ascribed to El rather than Elohim, is the more plausible original, echoing the Ugaritic formula describing the gods as bn il, ‘sons of El’. The apparent final mimation of *"èlîm is neither a problem nor a plural: the form is an old genitive singular, with an enclitic mem (rather than mimation) surviving in a fixed idiom. ‘Seventy sons (or: children) of El’ would harmonise the Hebrew and Ugaritian conceptions of the pantheon as an inclusive body, the progeny of El. This is more in keeping with the concept of El’s divine paternity, and the community of the pantheon as divine family, than the alternative sense that has been read, ‘the sons of gods’, which is incoherent. So long as the single reference of (hà)"elòhîm was maintained, there is no serious problem in the shift from *"èlîm, part of a shift in the usage of the latter, whose original syntax would have become opaque. Retaining MT, we identify the number of nations as equivalent to the number of Jacob’s sons. These are either the original twelve (e.g., Gen 46.27; 49.28), which however would offer no close parallel to ‘seventy nations’, or the extended family of seventy (as in Exod 1.5), which would correspond nicely with this idea. Following LXX etc., we identify them in accordance with the size of the angelic host, which continues to preserve the old Ugaritian enumeration. T. Naph. (Latin) 8.4–5; 9.4 reflects this view, reading as follows: Do not forget the Lord your god, the god of your fathers; who was chosen by our father Abraham when the nations were divided in the time of Phaleg (= Peleg: cf. Gen 10.25). For at that time the Lord, blessed be he, came down from his highest heavens, and brought down with him seventy ministering angels, Michael at their head. He commanded them to teach the seventy families which sprang from the loins of Noah seventy languages . . . But the holy language, the Hebrew language, remained only in the house of Shem . . . . . . and every nation chose its own angel, and none of them mentioned the name of the Lord, blessed be he . . .14
The number seventy as a symbolic figure for the pantheon already occurs in Ugaritian thought (as we saw above). The ‘table of nations’
13 14
BHS apparatus. See also Sir 17.17.
554
n. wyatt
of Genesis 10 is generally understood to contain a list of seventy ‘nations’ (though the figures may need to be juggled a bit). But it will be noticed that the idea of seventy nations descended from Noah’s sons (sc. Shem, Ham and Japheth) is an alternative construction to the seventy descendants of Jacob. 8. Verse 9a, MT kî ˙èleq yhwh 'ammô Is Yahweh here one of the (gods >) angels (thus many commentators), or is he, quite distinct from the (gods >) angels of the Gentile nations, to be identified with El 'Elyon, as in Genesis 14, so that we have here a mythic account of election? Such expressions of divine choice (commonly expressed in kinship terms: cf. v. 6) are widespread. See also Gen 19.30–38, where both Ammonites and Moabites claim descent from a deity, 'Am and Ab respectively. These are both designations of the moon-god.15 If Yahweh is to be construed as one of the gods (numbering seventy), it follows that he is regarded as subordinate to El 'Elyon. In my view this is a serious misconstruction of the verse, in which it is precisely Yahweh’s absolute supremacy, and his exclusion from the ‘seventy sons . . .’, which is itself a figure for Israel’s exclusion from the seventy nations, which would fit a postexilic date, and a growing isolationism, particularly well. Pursuing the analogy of Ammon and Moab, it is significant that they too trace their eponymous descent from the high god himself, in all probability to be identified with the mysterious Lot.16 Kings too, fathers of their nation, trace their descent back directly to the high god (as in Ugarit, where gods and kings are alike bn il[m]), rather than to one of his subordinates. They may themselves have been assimilated in some manner with the subordinates (such as with Baal or Athtar at Ugarit), but the issue of paternity is not to be confused with that of fraternity. Were this alternative interpretation to be endorsed, the idea that we have here a mythic account of the election of Israel would be seriously compromised. For it would, in insisting on the distinction
15 See discussion of this, with references, in N. Wyatt, Myths of Power: A Study of Royal Myth and Ideology in Ugarit and Israel (UBL, 13; Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 1996), pp. 232–35. 16 Suggested in Wyatt, Myths of Power, p. 235; Wyatt, ‘There’s Such Divinity’, p. 94.
the seventy sons of athirat
555
between El 'Elyon and Yahweh, imply that the original choice was made not by Yahweh, but by El 'Elyon himself, who merely delegated control of the people to Yahweh; it would thus negate the insistence of various texts on the choice by Yahweh of Israel . 17 It might be argued that such a doctrine was the outcome of a historical process to which the present text bears witness at an intermediate, or even a culminating stage, but in view of the difficulty in dating any of these passages relative to one other, it is hardly cogent. Hebrew 'ammô. The conventional translation is ‘his people’. The present translation, ‘his kinsman’, is in better accord with the prosody, since it offers a better parallel to ‘Jacob’. Jacob may indeed represent a nation, but he does so in eponymous form, as an individual. The idea of the deity as kinsman of the patriarch fits the metaphor of Adam and the king as ‘son of God’. See Gen 31.42, where God is called pa˙ad yißhàq, which JB translates as ‘Kinsman of Isaac’.18 9. Verse 9b, MT ya' aqòb ˙ebel na˙alàtô In the prosodic analysis above, in the right hand column, the bracketed elements are suffixes paralleling the divine names. Thus the suffix of na˙alàtô refers back to Yahweh. There is no need to discuss the main problem at further length. The key elements have emerged clearly in this analysis of the text. We may summarise the issues. Firstly, the number seventy may be obtained by two genealogical speculations: either by looking at the sons of Jacob, which may have been the biblical strategy, whether or not it was the original author’s own view, or by considering the seventy nations descended from Noah, which may also have been a biblical strategy, though the numbers need adjustment, and was evidently the line taken by the author of the Testament of Naphtali. Alternatively, it may have had a theological reference, which is supported by the presuppositions of the LXX and Qumran readings. I find this more probable on comparative grounds.
17 E.g., Deut 4.37; 7.6–8; 10.15; 14.2; 1 Kgs 3.8; Isa 14.1; 41.8–9; 44.2; Pss 33.12; 135.4. 18 Pa˙ad II means ‘thigh’ [euphemism?] in Arabic, Aramaic and in Palmyrene, ‘sub-tribe’, i.e., ‘congenital’.
556
n. wyatt
Secondly, two approaches may be taken to the problem of Yahweh’s relation to El 'Elyon. Yahweh may be a subordinate deity, as supposed by perhaps the majority of modern commentators, and possibly supported by late traditions (or perhaps late versions of older traditions) such as the pseudepigraphical literature. Alternatively, it is possible that he should be identified with El, and thus considered external to the seventy. This, I suspect, is the oldest line that was taken, and is supported, incidentally, by the conception (no pun intended) of kings and eponyms as sons of the deity. The conception of the king of Ugarit as bn il (perhaps prosaically ‘divine’, but mythologically ‘son of El’) is strictly equivalent, in terms of historical development, to Hebrew ‘son of Yahweh’, the idea implicit in such royal Psalms as 2, 8, 19 and 110. It seems then that the equivalence of Yahweh and El 'Elyon in the Deuteronomy passage was its original sense. It has perhaps been subject to alternative explanations with the passage of time, but if these are to be read legitimately in the text (as distinct from being read illegitimately into it) they are to be seen as evidence of a progressive failure to understand the original author’s theological strategy. I mention one final problem merely in passing: who was the god of the exodus? Conventional wisdom identifies him as Yahweh, without qualification. But any detailed perusal of the exodus traditions shows that it is not nearly so clear-cut as this suggests. Three voices have stood out against the consensus: C. F. A. Schaeffer, N. Wyatt and M. S. Smith.19 We have all argued that according to important pieces of information in the tradition, a case can be made for El as the saviour god.20
19 C. F. A. Schaeffer, ‘Nouveaux témoignages du culte de El et de Baal à Ras Shamra et ailleurs en Syrie-Palestine’, Syria 43 (1966), pp. 1–19; N. Wyatt, ‘Of Calves and Kings: the Canaanite Dimension of Israelite Religion’, SJOT 6 (1992), pp. 68–91 = Wyatt, The Mythic Mind, pp. 72–91; M. S. Smith, The Origins of Biblical Monotheism (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001), pp. 146–48. 20 My own take on the relation between the two deities (or, in my view, one deity, and the growth in the use of one particular epithet for him) is summed up in Wyatt, ‘Of Calves and Kings’, and for philological considerations in N. Wyatt, ‘Near Eastern Echoes of Aryan Tradition’, SMSR 55 (N.S. 13) (1989), pp. 5–29 (21–27).
CONTRIBUTORS W. Brian Aucker Westminster Christian Academy St. Louis, Missouri, USA John Barton Oriel College, University of Oxford Oxford, England, UK George J. Brooke Department of Religions and Theology, University of Manchester Manchester, England, UK Ronald E. Clements King’s College (Emeritus) London, England, UK David J. A. Clines Department of Biblical Studies, University of Sheffield (Emeritus) Sheffield, England, UK Adrian H. W. Curtis Department of Religions and Theology, University of Manchester Manchester, England, UK Philip R. Davies Department of Biblical Studies, University of Sheffield (Emeritus) Sheffield, England, UK John Day Lady Margaret Hall, University of Oxford Oxford, England, UK Mary Douglas Department of Anthropology, University College (Emeritus) London, England, UK Lester L. Grabbe Department of Theology, University of Hull Hull, England, UK
558
contributors
A. Peter Hayman New College, School of Divinity, University of Edinburgh (Emeritus) Edinburgh, Scotland, UK Alastair G. Hunter Department of Theology and Religious Studies, University of Glasgow Glasgow, Scotland, UK William Johnstone Divinity and Religious Studies, University of Aberdeen (Emeritus) Aberdeen, Scotland, UK Gary N. Knoppers Department of Classics and Ancient Mediterranean Studies, Pennsylvania State University University Park, Pennsylvania, USA Lydie Kucová Independent Scholar Prague, Czech Republic Timothy H. Lim New College, School of Divinity, University of Edinburgh Edinburgh, Scotland, UK James R. Linville Department of Religious Studies, University of Lethbridge Lethbridge, Alberta, Canada Steven L. McKenzie Department of Religious Studies, Rhodes College Memphis, Tennessee, USA Raymond F. Person, Jr. Department of Philosophy and Religion, Ohio Northern University Ada, Ohio, USA Hugh S. Pyper Department of Biblical Studies, University of Sheffield Sheffield, England, UK David J. Reimer New College, School of Divinity, University of Edinburgh Edinburgh, Scotland, UK
contributors
559
Robert Rezetko Independent Scholar Guadalajara, Jalisco, México Thomas Christian Römer Faculté de Théologie et des Sciences des Religions, Université de Lausanne Lausanne, Switzerland Margreet L. Steiner Independent Scholar Leiden, The Netherlands Emanuel Tov Department of Bible, Hebrew University Jerusalem, Israel Julio Trebolle Departamento de Hebreo y Arameo, Facultad de Filología, Universidad Complutense Madrid, Spain John Van Seters Department of Religious Studies, University of North Carolina (Emeritus) Chapel Hill, North Carolina, USA H. G. M. Williamson Christ Church, University of Oxford Oxford, England, UK Gregory T. K. Wong Independent Scholar Edinburgh, Scotland, UK Nicolas Wyatt New College, School of Divinity, University of Edinburgh (Emeritus) Edinburgh, Scotland, UK
INDEX OF NAMES Abrams, D. 178n.11, 179n.14, 180 Achenbach, R. 424n.20, 429n.38, 436, 436n.56, 441n.76, n.78 Ackerman, S. 15, 15n.45, n.46, n.47, 16n.48, 542n.29 Aharoni, Y. 99n.17 A˙ituv, S. xvii, 132n.58, 498n.24 Ahlström, G. W. 99n.16, 229n.18, 243n.5, 285n.8 Aitken, K. T. 86, 86n.18, 87, 87n.21, n.22, n.23 Albertz, R. 167n.33, 328, 328n.26, 423n.15 Albright, W. F. 115n.10, 125n.37, 308, 308n.22 Alfrink, B. 121n.28 Allegro, J. M. 469n.22 Alonso Schökel, L. 373n.37, n.41 Alt, A. 99n.17, 105n.28, 113n.4 Alter, R. 256n.33, 523n.15, 542n.30 Álvarez Barredo, M. 431n.2 Amit, Y. 4n.13, 10, 10n.30, n.31, n.32, 110n.43 Anbar, M. 237n.37 Anderson, A. A. 192, 192n.12, 252n.23 Anderson, B. W. 423n.16 Anderson, F. I. 274 Anderson, G. W. xiii, xiv, xvi, xxi, 1, 1n.4, 420n.5 Andiñach, P. R. 289, 289n.24, n.26 Arnold, B. T. xx Arnold, P. M. 124, 124n.35, 133, 133n.66 Artus, O. 433n.51 Astour, M. C. 228n.16, 311n.33 Aucker, W. B. ix, xiv, 2n.7, 244n.7, 379n.1 Auld, A. G. xi–xxiii, 1, 1n.2, 8, 8n.24, 29, 29n.8, 30, 35, 36, 36n.4, n.6, 38, 39, 39n.16, 49, 49n.1, 50, 50n.4, 52, 52n.10, 65, 67, 81, 81n.1, 93, 93n.1, n.2, n.3, 99n.17, 108, 108n.38, n.40, 113, 122n.30, 131n.58, 132, 132n.58, n.59, 139, 139n.1, 140, 140n.5, n.6, 143, 144, 144n.15, 148, 148n.18, 149, 150, 150n.19, 173, 175, 187n.1, 207,
207n.1, n.3, 208n.5, 223n.1, 239, 239n.45, 241, 241n.1, 242n.2, n.3, 247n.16, 257n.36, 258, 258n.38, 261n.1, 283, 283n.3, 284, 284n.4, 297, 297n.52, 298, 299n.1, 305, 305n.12, n.13, n.15, 306, 306n.16, n.17, 308n.21, 315, 319, 319n.8, 320, 320n.9, 321, 322, 323, 324, 325, 325n.18, 331, 331n.34, n.35, n.36, 332, 332n.38, 333, 333n.42, 337, 337n.1, 346n.17, 355, 356, 356n.26, n.28, 359, 359n.2, 360, 378, 398n.104, 417n.187, 419n.1, 420n.5, 426n.30, 429n.37, 437n.61, 438, 438n.64, n.65, 439n.72, 447, 447n.1, 483, 483n.2, 492, 497, 498, 498n.24, n.25, 503, 503n.1, n.2, n.3, 504, 505, 505n.7, n.8, n.9, 506, 506n.11, 507, 508, 508n.20, 509, 510, 511, 512, 514, 515, 517, 529, 530n.3, 531, 531n.8, 535n.16, 547 Aurelius, E. 423n.15, 425n.23, 432, 439n.70, 442n.82 Auwers, J.-M. 484n.5 Avery-Peck, A. J. 427n.31 Baasten, M. F. J. 409n.154, 461n.6 Badcock, G. D. xvii Bächli, O. 99n.17 Bailey, R. C. 245n.11 Baker, D. W. 115, 115n.9, n.10, 121n.27 Bal, M. 282n.48 Ball, E. xviii Banning, E. B. 514n.27 Barber, A. 238n.39, 389n.52 Barber, E. A. 463n.11 Barclay, A. 241n.1 Bar-Efrat, S. 255, 255n.29 Barnes, W. E. 7n.23 Barr, J. 382n.14, 412n.169, 459n.2, 460n.5, 462n.9, n.10 Bartelmus, R. 518n.4, 522n.12, n.13, 523n.15 Barthélemy, D. 461n.8, 485, 485n.7 Barton, J. xix, 40n.20, 285n.7, 286, 286n.12, 287, 287n.15, n.17, 288, 288n.18, 290n.31, 293n.42, 294,
562
index of names
294n.46, 295n.48, 297, 297n.51, 356, 356n.29, 360n.3, 361n.8, 362n.12, 371n.34, 377, 377n.45, 445n.86 Bauckham, R. J. 262, 262n.7, 263, 263n.9, n.11, n.12, n.13, 264, 264n.14, n.16, 269, 281 Bauks, M. 425n.21, 426n.26 Baumgartner, W. xxvi, 246n.14, 292n.35, 462n.9 Beattie, D. R. G. 279, 279n.45 Beck, A. B. 350n.20 Becker, H.-J. 180n.16 Becking, B. 17n.51, 232n.29 Beentjes, P. C. 232n.28 Behâ ed-Dîn 113, 113n.1 Beit-Arié, M. 178, 179, 179n.12, n.13 Ben Zvi, E. 110n.43, 229n.18, 237n.38, 297n.53, 350n.20, 426n.30, 522n.14 Ben-Dov, J. 46n.42 Ben-Isaiah, A. 219n.35 Benzinger, I. 224n.7, 229n.17 Berg, S. B. 526n.25, 528n.30 Bergen, W. J. 1, 1n.3, 7, 7n.22, 8, 8n.27, 24n.80 Bergey, R. 380n.5, 400, 400n.111, 401n.115, 403, 403n.124, 416 Bergler, S. 288, 289, 289n.23 Berlin, A. 526n.26 Bernstein, M. J. 40n.22, 280, 280n.46, 491n.14 Beuken, W. A. M. 65n.23 Bewer, J. A. 343n.11 Beyerlin, W. 530, 530n.4, 537, 537n.19, 538, 538n.24 Bianchi, U. 14n.40, 23n.78 Bi‘, M. 292n.38, 293n.43 Bickerman, E. 528n.30 Bietenhard, S. K. 500n.28 Bigger, S. xvii Bin-Nun, S. R. 156, 156n.6 Biran, A. xvii Birch, B. C. 365, 365n.20, 366, 366n.21 Bjørndalen, A. J. 522n.13, 524 Black, J. S. 535n.44 Blau, J. 461n.7, 482n.44 Bledstein, A. J. 264, 264n.15 Blenkinsopp, J. 98n.14, 100n.19, 110, 110n.44, 111, 111n.47, 115n.10, 121n.26, 122n.30, 123, 123n.31, n.32, 126n.38, 128, 128n.45, 129, 129n.47, 130n.52, 133n.67, 140n.3,
212n.13, 258n.36, 328n.24, 334n.46, 424n.19, 426n.27, 444, 445n.86 Block, D. I. 530n.3, 537n.19 Blum, E. 420, 420n.5, 421, 423, 423n.14, 439n.68, 441n.77 Boecker, H. J. 523n.16 Bolin, T. M. 340n.7 Boling, R. G. 530, 530n.5, 532n.11, 534, 536n.16 Botterweck, G. J. xxix, 482n.45 Boulton, J. T. 179n.15 Bovati, P. 523n.16 Bowden, J. S. 51n.8, 126n.38, 213n.15, 328n.26 Bowley, J. E. 492n.15 Boyce, R. N. 5n.16 Braulik, G. 493n.18 Brekelmans, C. H. W. 436n.57 Brenner, A. 264n.15, 266, 266n.23, n.24, n.25, 267n.26, 268, 268n.27, n.28, 269, 273n.33, 282, 282n.48, 341n.9, 343n.13 Brettler, M. Z. 229n.19, 230n.21, n.22, 239, 239n.43, 362n.12, 429n.38 Briend, J. 130n.52 Briggs, C. A. xxv, 193n.17 Brink, A. 262, 262n.8, 263n.9, n.10 Brockelmann, C. 527n.27 Bromiley, G. W. 363n.17 Bronner, L. 6n.18 Brooke, G. J. 40n.20, 41n.23, 42n.30, 47n.45, n.46 Brown, F. xxv Brown, W. P. 209n.7 Broyles, C. C. 193, 193n.15 Brueggemann, W. 4n.13, 7n.23, 27n.1 Bruno, A. 123n.31, 126n.38 Budde, K. 350n.21 Buhl, F. 76n.12 Buis, P. 2, 3, 3n.10, n.11 Bultmann, C. xvii, 359n.2 Burney, C. F. 18n.55, 224n.7, 229n.17, 352n.23, 390n.57, 485, 485n.8 Burstein, S. M. 160n.20, 170n.36 Bush, F. 274, 274n.38, 277n.44, 278 Buttenwieser, M. 193n.17 Caird, G. B. 463n.11 Campbell, A. F. 156, 156n.8, 162n.28, 224n.7, 245n.10 Campbell, E. F. 274, 274n.36, 277n.44
index of names Campbell, J. G. 43n.32 Caquot, A. 426n.28 Carlson, R. A. 257n.36 Carmichael, C. M. 373n.39 Carr, D. M. 423n.15 Carroll, L. 283, 283n.2, 291n.33, 292n.36, 346n.17, 358, 358n.31, n.32 Carroll, R. P. xvii, xix, xxii, 99n.15, 258n.36, 283n.3, 325, 325n.17, n.18, 356, 356n.26, n.27, 359n.2, 431, 431n.41, 505n.9 Carter, C. 100n.19 Casetti, P. 461n.8 Caspari, C. P. 211n.12 Cazelles, H. 126, 127, 127n.41, 426n.28 Ceuppens, P. F. 120n.24 Chazon, E. G. 42n.30, 45n.38, n.39 Cheyne, T. K. 126n.38 Childs, B. S. 211n.13, 213, 213n.17, 219n.31, 366n.21 Claassen, W. T. 291n.32 Claessen, H. J. M. 452n.16 Clark, G. R. 277n.44 Clements, R. A. 42n.30, 45n.39 Clements, R. E. xviii, 50n.3, 58n.18, 63n.22, 122n.30 Clifford, R. J. 190n.5 Clines, D. J. A. xx, xxvi, 66n.23, 76n.13, 286, 286n.11, 341n.9, 390n.58, 517, 517n.2, 526, 526n.26, 528, 528n.31 Coats, G. W. 8n.28 Cogan, M. 4n.14, 6n.17, 8n.25, 224n.5, 228n.14, n.15, 229n.19, 230n.22, 234n.32, 390n.56, 520n.7 Coggins, R. J. xvii, 225n.9, 285n.7, 322n.13 Cohen, C. 39n.18, 116n.13, 212n.13 Cohn, R. L. 11, 11n.33, 12n.36, 13n.39, 20, 20n.67, 21, 21n.69, 227n.13, 233n.30 Cole, D. 134, 134n.68 Collins, A. Y. 262n.6 Collins, J. J. 398n.102 Coote, R. B. 1n.3 Cotter, D. W. 367n.24 Cowley, A. E. xxvi, 116 Cox, C. E. 459n.2 Coxon, P. W. 276n.41 Craigie, P. C. xvi Crenshaw, J. L. 191n.8, 286, 286n.12, 287, 287n.16, 290n.31, 292n.34, 293, 293n.40, n.42, n.44, 294n.45
563
Cross, F. M. 29n.6, 36, 36n.5, n.7, 37, 37n.9, n.10, 51, 51n.7, 99n.17, 130n.50, 246n.13, 317, 492, 492n.16, 552n.10 Crown, A. D. 238n.41 Crüsemann, F. 437, 437n.62 Cryer, F. H. 420n.4 Curtis, A. H. W. 85n.15, 430n.39, 550n.6 Dadon, M. 130n.54, 131 Dahood, M. 192n.9, 201n.30 Danker, F. W. 398n.101 Davidson, R. xiv, xvii Davies, E. W. 281n.47, 437n.58 Davies, G. I. 114n.5, 422n.13 Davies, J. xvii, 178n.11, 322n.13 Davies, P. R. xvii, xix, xxi, xxii, 109n.42, 110n.43, 297n.53, 341n.9, 359n.2, 413n.172, 417n.187, 445n.86 Davies, W. D. 412n.169 Davila, J. R. 180n.16 Day, J. 51n.5, 125n.37, 213n.15 Dearman, J. A. 111n.45, 123n.31 Deist, F. E. 290, 291, 291n.32, 295n.49, 296 Delcor, M. 426n.28 Delitzsch, F. 197n.22, 200n.26, 372n.37 Demsky, A. 114n.8, 124n.33 Deutsch, R. R. 290n.28 Dever, W. G. 15n.45 De Vries, S. J. 50n.3 Dhorme, E. 517n.1 Diebner, B. J. 440n.74 Dietrich, M. xxvii Dietrich, W. xix, xx, 29n.7, 317, 319, 359n.2, 398n.104, 499n.26 Dijk-Hemmes, F. van 17n.51, 266, 266n.23, n.24, n.25, 267, 267n.26, 268, 268n.27, n.28, 269, 282 Dijkstra, M. 17n.51 Dillard, R. B. 404n.130, 411, 411n.161 Dimant, D. 42n.30, 44n.36 Dobbs-Alsopp, F. W. 114n.5 Douglas, M. xvii, 140n.4, 443, 443n.83 Dozeman, T. B. 431n.43 Driver, G. R. 460n.4, n.5, 481n.43, 551, 551n.8, 552 Driver, S. R. xxv, 20n.68, 381, 381n.11, 398n.105, 406n.141, 417n.186, 520n.8, 551n.7
564
index of names
Dunn, J. D. G. xx, 95n.10, 96n.10, 247n.16 Dus, J. 121n.26 Eaton, D. 197n.22 Edelman, D. V. 94n.7, 100n.19, 101n.20, 106n.36, 111, 111n.45, 123, 123n.31, 124, 124n.34, 128, 128n.46 Edenburg, C. 106n.35 Ehrensvärd, M. 379, 382n.16, 407, 407n.144, 416, 416n.184 Eissfeldt, O. 368 Ellenbogen, M. 397n.98, 400n.112 Ellens, D. L. 50n.3 Ellens, J. H. 50n.3 Elliger, K. xxv, 77n.16 Elwolde, J. F. 382n.14, n.15, 390n.58, 394n.82, 415, 415n.182, 416n.183, 417n.186, 461n.7 Emerton, J. A. xvi, 51n.5, 518n.3, 521n.9, 541n.28 Eshel, E. 45n.39 Eshel, H. 41n.27 Eskhult, M. 381n.7, 383n.21, 399n.108, 400, 400n.112 Eslinger, L. xvi Evans, C. A. 522n.13 Even-Shoshan, A. 18n.58, 19n.62 Exum, J. C. xix, xx, 65n.23, 542n.30 Eynikel, E. xvi, xx, 224n.7 Fabry, H.-J. 393n.73, n.74 Fassberg, S. E. 381n.9 Faü, J.-F. 238n.41 Fechter, F. 522n.13 Fensham, F. C. 85, 85n.16, 291n.32 Feuillet, A. 345n.15 Fewell, D. N. 256n.31, 275, 275n.41, 276n.41 Fields, W. W. 484n.4 Filipowskius, H. 482n.44 Finkelstein, I. 110n.43 Finkelstein, L. 412n.169 Fischer, I. 370n.30, n.31 Fishbane, M. 363n.18, 366, 366n.22, n.23, 484n.6, 486n.11 Flashar, M. 471 Flint, P. W. 40n.19, 42, 42n.29, 193n.15, 492n.15 Fokkelman, J. P. 246n.12, 247n.17, 363n.18, 370n.27, n.29, 371, 371n.33, 373n.40, n.42 Foster, B. R. 158n.16
Fox, M. V. 525n.23, 526n.25, 527n.28 Fraine, J. de 121n.28 Fraenkel, D. 459n.2 Frankel, Z. 460n.5, 461n.7 Fredericks, D. C. 409n.155 Freedman, D. N. xxv, 133n.66, 169n.34, 304n.11, 350n.20, 387n.43 Fretheim, T. E. 17n.53 Frevel, C. 423n.16 Friedman, R. E. 225n.8 Fritz, V. xvii, 7n.23, 57, 57n.14, 157n.13, 225n.7, 230n.23 Frolov, S. 258n.36 Fuchs, E. 262n.6 Fujimoto, S. xv Gakuru, G. 52n.12 Galil, G. xix, 232n.29 Galling, K. 422n.12 García López, F. 420n.5, 425n.22 García Martínez, F. 420n.5 Garrett, D. 525n.22 Garrone, D. xvii Gaster, M. 481n.43 Gaster, T. H. 120n.23 Geddes, A. xx, 207n.1 Gehman, H. S. 7n.23, 156n.4, 239n.42, 489n.13, 493n.18, 520n.7 Gelb, E. J. 400n.111 Gerbrandt, G. E. 14n.41 Gerleman, G. 527n.27 Gertz, J. C. xix, 208n.5, 422n.13, 423n.14, n.15, 429n.37, 436n.57 Gesenius, W. xxvi, 76n.12, 292, 292n.37 Gevirtz, S. 404n.132, 405n.146 Gibson, J. C. L. xiv, 83, 83n.9, 87, 87n.21, 88n.24 Gibson, S. 124n.36 Gitay, Y. 350n.20 Glare, P. G. W. 463n.11 Glassner, J.-J. 158n.16, n.17, 159n.18, n.19 Glessmer, U. 46n.42 Glueck, N. 277n.44 Goeje, M. J. de 211n.12, 214n.20 Goethe, J. W. von 261, 261n.4 Goitein, S. D. 261n.3, 267, 268 Goldfajn, T. 518, 518n.4 Goldstein, J. 43n.31 Gooding, D. W. 484n.6, 496n.21 Gordis, R. 372n.37, 517, 517n.1 Gordon, C. H. 135n.73
index of names Gordon, R. P. xxi, 119, 119n.22, 130, 130n.51, 372n.36 Görg, M. 116, 116n.13 Goulder, M. D. 31n.10, 525, 525n.22 Grabbe, L. L. 35n.2, 109n.42, 157n.14, 158n.15, 169n.35, 287n.14, 329n.29, 444n.84 Graffy, A. 522n.13, 523 Graham, M. P. 36n.6, 106n.33, 111n.45, 123n.31, 305n.12, 315n.1, 328n.22, n.25, 332n.37, 504n.4 Gray, G. B. 436n.58 Gray, J. 4n.14, 82, 82n.4, 156n.4, 224n.7, 229n.17, 352n.23, 493n.18 Grayson, A. K. 158n.16 Green, D. E. 167n.33, 423n.15 Greenfield, J. C. 16n.49, 41n.26 Greenstein, E. L. 261n.4, 542n.29 Gros Louis, K. R. R. 257n.34, 542n.29 Gross, W. 518, 518n.3, 519n.5 Grottanelli, C. 6n.19, 7, 7n.20, n.21, 14, 14n.40, 15n.45, 23n.78, 24, 25n.81, n.82 Gruenwald, I. 177, 177n.8, 178n.11, 180, 183n.22 Guillaume, P. 106, 106n.32, n.34, 111, 111n.46 Gulliford, L. 362n.16 Gunkel, H. 28, 28n.4, 261, 261n.4 Gunn, D. M. 251n.21, n.22, 275, 275n.41, 276n.41, 507n.13, 542n.30 Haag, H. 541n.28 Haas, W. 462n.9 Habel, N. 529n.2, 534n.14 Hagedorn, A. 7n.23, 57n.14, 157n.13, 225n.7 Halbe, J. 119n.19 Hallo, W. W. 84n.12, 126n.40 Halpern, B. 156, 156n.6, n.9, 162n.28, 165n.30 Handy, L. K. 229n.18 Haneman, G. 480n.38 Hanhart, R. 459n.2 Haran, M. 129, 129n.48, 135n.72, 155n.3, 156, 166, 166n.31, 167, 167n.39 Harper, L. 393n.73 Harrington, D. J. 17n.53, 234n.33 Harrison, R. K. 363, 363n.17 Hartley, J. E. 373n.37 Harvey, G. 178n.11, 322n.13 Hastings, J. 362n.15, 398n.105
565
Hauerwas, S. 360, 361n.7, 378n.46 Hauser, A. 354n.24 Hayes, J. H. xviii, 57n.13, 58n.18, 104n.24 Hayman, A. P. xiv, 176n.5, n.6, 177n.7, 178n.10, n.11, 180n.17, 181n.18, 182n.19, n.20, 183n.21, n.22, 184n.23, n.24, 185n.25 Healey, J. F. 550n.6 Heger, P. 215n.22, 218n.29 Heimerdinger, J.-M. 518n.4 Helbing, R. 471n.24 Heller, H. 481n.42 Heller, J. 121n.26 Hendel, R. S. 367, 367n.25 Hertzberg, H. W. 126n.38 Hill, A. E. 392n.69, 403n.125 Hillers, D. R. 404, 404n.135 Hjelm, I. 238n.41 Ho, C. Y. S. xxiii, 258n.37, 398n.104 Hobbs, T. R. 6n.17, 7n.23, 15n.43, 24n.79 Höffken, P. 523n.17 Hoffmeier, J. K. 121n.27, 226n.10 Hoffner, H. A. 135n.73 Hoftijzer, J. 255n.30, 256n.31 Holladay, J. S. 121, 121n.27, 514n.27 Holladay, W. L. 98n.15, 99n.16, 202n.31 Holloway, S. W. 229n.18 Hornblower, S. 142n.11 Hose, M. 421n.8 Hossfeld, F.-L. 221n.38 Hostetter, E. C. 116, 116n.15 Houlden, J. L. xvii House, P. R. 525n.22 Houtman, C. 217n.26 Hroznÿ, H. 496n.21 Humbert, P. 274, 274n.39 Hunter, A. G. xix, 193n.16, 197n.22, 201n.28, 203n.33, 339, 339n.5, 340, 342, 344, 355, 359n.2 Hurtado, L. W. xvi Hurvitz, A. 39n.18, 116n.13, 212n.13, 304n.11, 380, 380n.5, 381, 381n.7, n.9, 387, 387n.43, n.44, 388n.46, n.47, 389n.51, 390, 390n.55, 394, 394n.83, n.84, n.85, 395, 395n.87, n.88, n.89, 399, 399n.107, n.109, 401, 401n.113, 402, 403n.123, 405n.139, 409n.154, 410, 410n.157, n.158, n.159, 412n.170, 413, 413n.171, 414,
566
index of names
414n.174, n.175, 416n.184, 417n.186 Hyatt, J. P. 191n.8 Irsigler, H. 522n.13 Jack, A. M. xvi Jacoby, F. 160n.20, 161n.22 Jacquet, L. 190, 190n.6, 192n.9 Jamieson-Drake, D. W. 450n.10 Japhet, S. 238n.39, 303n.9, 308n.23, 310n.28, n.30, 384n.26, 385n.33, n.35, 386n.38, 387n.45, 389n.52, 390n.53, 391n.62, n.65, 392n.66, 397n.96, 404n.135, 405n.139, 407, 407n.148, 408n.150, 410, 411n.160, 414n.176, 416n.183, 505n.10, 506, 506n.12, 508n.18, 509n.21, 512n.24 Jenner, K. D. 447n.2, 448n.5, n.6, 449n.7 Jepsen, A. 108n.39, 156, 156n.5, 158n.17 Jeremias, J. 425n.21 Jobling, D. 96n.11 Johnson, A. R. 192, 193n.14 Johnstone, W. xx, 207n.1, 208n.5, 215n.24, 219n.30, 222n.40, 396n.95, 420n.5, 423n.15, 431n.44, 432n.49, 433n.50, 441n.76 Jones, D. R. 202n.31 Jones, G. H. 1, 1n.5, 7n.23, 156n.4, 170n.37, 224n.7, 225n.8, 520n.7 Jones, G. L. 360, 360n.4 Jones, H. S. xxvii Jonge, H. J. de 484n.5 Joosten, J. 417n.186, 461n.6, n.7 Joüon, P. 263n.11, 270, 270n.30, 273, 273n.34, 277n.42, 402n.122, 518n.3 Jung, K. N. 250, 250n.20 Kafafi, Z. 454n.20 Kaiser, O. 122n.30 Kalimi, I. 50n.3, 407n.149, 411n.160 Kallai, Z. xix, 99n.17, 232n.29 Kapelrud, A. S. 126, 126n.41 Karst, J. 170n.36 Kautzsch, E. xxvi Kearney, P. J. 119n.21 Keel, O. 461n.8, 525n.22 Kenik, H. A. 131n.57 Kenyon, K. M. 453, 454n.21 Kermode, F. 542n.30 Keulen, P. S. F. van 493n.20 Kiesow, K. 430n.40
Killebrew, A. E. 454, 454n.20, n.21, n.22 Kippenberg, H. G. 225n.9 Klein, R. W. 245n.10, 304n.11, 307, 308, 308n.20, n.24, 309n.27, 328n.24, 329, 329n.29, 330n.33, 425n.21 Knauf, E. A. 106, 106n.32, 320, 320n.10, n.11, 321, 321n.12, 323, 324, 324n.14, 424n.19, 429n.37 Knierim, R. P. 50n.3 Kooij, A. van der 38n.13 Knoppers, G. N. 35n.2, 38n.12, 40, 40n.21, 41, 41n.24, 43, 43n.33, 46n.43, 57n.16, 132, 132n.60, 238n.39, 383n.22, 386n.39, 390n.53, 391n.63, 396n.94, 397n.97, 402n.119, 403n.127, 422n.12, 497n.22, 510n.21, 513n.26 Koch, K. 370n.28 Köckert, M. 425n.21 Koehler, L. xxvi, 246n.14, 292n.35 Kofoed, J. B. 399n.107 König, E. 517, 517n.2 Korpel, M. C. A. 522n.13, 524 Kraemer, R. S. 265, 266n.22 Kraft, R. A. 484n.4 Kratz, R. G. 51n.8, 57, 57n.15, 213n.15, 214n.18, 221n.38, 422, 422n.10, 426n.26, n.29 Kraus, H.-J. 191n.8 Krause, G. xxix Kroll, W. 161n.22 Kropat, A. 416n.183 Kselman, J. S. 360, 360n.5 Kucová, L. 415n.178 Kuenen, A. 429n.36 Kugler, R. A. xx Kuhrt, A. 160n.20 Kuiper, M. ix Kutsch, E. 529n.2 Kutscher, E. Y. 385n.31, 390n.55, 403, 403n.122, n.126, 412, 412n.169, 467n.19, 472n.25, 473n.26, 480, 480n.39, 481n.40 Kutscher, R. 385n.31 Labahn, A. 62n.21 Lacoque, A. 277n.44 Lagrange, M. J. 130n.52 Landes, G. 338, 338n.3, 343n.11, 413, 413n.173 Laperrousaz, E.-M. 130n.52 Lapp, N. L. 125n.37
index of names Lawrence, D. H. 179, 179n.15 Leary, L. G. 115n.10 Lee, W. W. 433n.51 Lefkowitz, M. 265, 265n.19, n.20, n.21, 269 Lemaire, A. ix, xviii, 50n.4, 116, 116n.13, 319n.8, 453, 453n.19 Lemke, W. 308n.19 Lerberghe, K. van 226n.10 Levenson, J. D. 62, 62n.20, 370n.27, 371, 371n.35 Levin, C. xix, 359n.2, 421, 421n.7, n.8, 426n.26, 431n.45 Levin, Y. 93n.5, 103n.22 Levine, A.-J. 265n.19, 266n.22 Levine, B. A. xvii, 132n.58, 135n.73, 136n.76, 413n.173, 498n.24 Levine, N. 4n.13, 5, 5n.16 Levinson, B. M. 213, 213n.15, n.18, 215n.22, 216n.25, 217n.26, 218n.28, n.29, 219n.31, 221n.38 Liagré Böhl, F. M. T. de 58n.18 Lichtert, C. 338n.4 Liddell, H. G. xxvii Lieberman, S. 308n.22, 400n.111 Liebes, Y. 175n.2 Lilley, J. P. U. 542n.30 Lim, T. H. ix, xiv, xvi, 1n.1, 241n.1, 379n.1, 427n.31 Limburg, J. 344n.14, 347n.19 Lindars, B. 541n.28 Linville, J. R. 235n.34, 287n.14 Lipschits, O. 98n.14, 100n.18, n.19, 110n.43, 123n.31 Liverani, M. 82, 82n.7, 157n.10 Lohfink, N. 119n.21, 424n.19 Long, B. O. 2, 2n.9, 11, 11n.33, 235n.35, 254n.27, 256n.32 Longman, T. 525n.22 Loretz, O. xxvii, 288, 288n.22, 289 Lowenthal, D. 141, 141n.10 Lundbom, J. R. 202n.31 Lust, J. 38n.13, 436n.57 Lyke, L. L. 251n.21 Macchi, J.-D. 106n.32, n.33, 239n.44, 320n.10 Macintosh, A. A. 430n.40 Maclaren, A. 193, 194n.18, 197n.22, 198, 199, 199n.23, 200n.26 Magen, Y. 130n.54, 131 Maier III, W. 16n.49 Malamat, A. xvii, 26, 126n.39, 132n.58, 413n.173, 498n.24
567
Maloney, L. M. 424n.19 Mandel, P. 43n.32 Mandell, S. 169n.34 Mankowski, P. V. 383n.17, n.18, n.20, 399n.106, n.108, 400, 400n.112, 401n.116, 415, 415n.179 Marböck, J. 370n.30 Margalith, O. 116, 116n.14 Marguerat, D. 430n.39 Márquez Rowe, I. 88, 88n.27, 89, 90 Marsh, J. 1n.1 Martin, J. D. 395n.90, 427n.32 Marx, A. 308n.22 Mason, R. 285n.7, 360n.3 Mathias, G. 454n.21 Mayes, A. D. H. 63n.22, 119, 119n.21, n.22, 441n.76, 445n.86 Mazar, A. 134, 134n.69, 454n.21 Mazar, B. 455n.23 Mazar, E. 455n.23 McBride, S. D. 286n.9, McCann, C. J. 530n.6, 543n.31 McCarter, P. K. 127, 127n.42, 245n.10, 252n.23, 340, 340n.6, 370, 371n.32 McCarthy, D. J. 52n.9 McConville, J. G. 57n.16, 422n.12, 497n.22 McDonough, J. T. 241n.1 McKane, W. xxii, 99n.15, 428, 428n.34, 528n.30 McKay, H. A. 286n.11 McKenzie, S. L. xviii, xix, 2n.8, 36n.6, 51, 51n.7, 106n.33, 224n.7, 230n.20, 258n.36, 305n.12, n.14, 308n.21, 315n.1, 319n.8, 328n.22, n.23, n.25, 331, 332n.37, 403n.127, 422n.12, 426n.30, 431n.43, 442n.81, 499n.27, 503n.2 Mead, J. K. 14n.42 Meer, W. van der 522n.13 Meij, H. van der ix Mendenhall, G. E. 116, 116n.13 Menzies, A. 535n.44 Mettinger, T. N. D. 213n.17, 219n.34 Meurer, T. 430n.40 Meyer, E. 115n.11 Meyer, R. 413n.173 Meyers, C. 273, 273n.33 Meyers, E. M. xviii Miles, J. R. 343n.13 Milgrom, J. 146n.16, 304n.11, 387n.43, 388n.48, 391, 391n.61, 392, 392n.71, 393, 393n.72, n.73,
568
index of names
n.74, n.75, n.76, n.77, n.78, 394n.79, n.80, n.81, 395, 395n.91, 413, 413n.171 Millard, A. R. 121n.27, 226n.10 Miller, J. M. 57n.13, 58n.18, 104n.24, 111n.45, 123n.31, 124, 124n.35, 306, 306n.18 Miller, P. D. 193n.15 Mitchell, G. T. 343n.11 Mizrahi, N. 459n.1, 471n.24, 476n.29, 481n.41 Moffatt, J. 67n.2, n.3, 69, 70, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 80n.24, n.25 Möhlenbrink, K. 117n.16 Montgomery, J. A. 7n.23, 156n.4, 239n.42, 489n.13, 493n.18, 520n.7 Moor, J. C. de xix, 1n.2, 225n.7, 285n.6, 339n.5, 522n.13, 547n.2 Moore, C. A. 527, 528n.29 Moore, R. D. 19n.64 Morro, W. C. 363, 363n.17 Moscati, S. 482n.45 Mowinckel, S. xiii, 28, 28n.5, 81, 126n.41 Muchiki, Y. 386n.36 Muenchow, C. A. 286n.9 Müller, G. xxix Müller, J. G. A. 342, 342n.10, 349 Muraoka, T. 273, 273n.34, 382n.14, n.15, 402n.122, 409n.154, 417n.186, 461n.6, n.7, 466n.15, 518n.3 Murphy, R. E. 525n.22 Mutius, H. G. von 180n.16 Myers, J. M. 273, 274, 274n.35 Na’aman, N. 109, 109n.42, 110, 110n.43, 156, 156n.10, 166, 167, 167n.32, 170, 170n.38 Nadelman, Y. 455n.23 Nash, K. S. 288, 288n.21 Naudé, J. 417n.187 Neff, R. W. 8n.28 Negev, A. 124n.36 Nelson, R. D. 5n.17, 7n.23, 29n.6, 119n.19, 224n.7 Neuberg, F. J. 191, 191n.7 Neusner, J. 427n.31 Niccacci, A. 518, 518n.3, n.4, 520, 520n.8 Nicholson, E. W. 51n.6, 63n.22, 119n.22, 207, 207n.2, 208n.5, 221n.39, 420, 420n.2, 441n.76 Nicol, G. G. 254, 254n.28, 255n.30, 256n.32
Niditch, S. 275, 275n.40 Niehr, H. 522n.13, 523 Nielsen, E. 350, 350n.21 Nielsen, K. 522n.13, 523n.16 Nihan, C. xxii, 426n.29 North, R. 115n.10 Noth, M. xi, xiii, 27, 27n.2, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 50, 50n.2, 51, 51n.6, 53, 99n.17, 106n.33, 108, 108n.39, 155, 155n.1, n.2, n.3, 224n.7, 229n.17, 230n.23, 310, 310n.29, 315, 315n.1, 316, 316n.3, n.4, 317, 318, 319, 320, 321, 322, 323, 324, 325, 325n.16, 327, 327n.21, 328, 329, 329n.28, 330, 330n.30, n.31, 331, 420, 423, 423n.16, n.17, 427, 427n.32, 428n.33, 436, 493n.18, 498, 504n.5, 515 Nougayrol, J. 89 Nussbaum, M. C. 361, 361n.8, n.9, n.10, n.11 Oates, J. C. 261, 261n.2, 264, 264n.17, n.18 O’Brien, D. P. 11n.34, 17n.52, 18, 18n.56, n.58, 19n.63, n.65, 20n.67, 21, 21n.70, 22n.72 O’Brien, M. A. 156n.8, 224n.7, 229n.17 O’Connell, R. H. 530n.3, 543n.31, 544n.53 O’Connor, M. 68n.4, 373n.41, 518n.4 Oded, B. 226n.10, 229n.19 Ogden, G. S. 290, 290n.28, n.29, n.30, 297 Ogden Bellis, A. 287n.14 Olson, D. T. 428n.35, 433, 433n.52 Ono, K. xi Opgen-Rhein, H. J. 338n.2 Orlinsky, H. M. 413n.173, 493, 493n.19 Otto, E. 213n.15, n.16, 216n.26, 217n.26, 422n.13, 425n.26, 436, 441n.78 Otto, S. 2n.8, 22, 22n.73 Overholt, T. W. xxii Palmer, A. S. 121n.28 Paran, M. 394 Pardee, D. 84, 84n.12 Parpola, S. 400n.111 Parry, D. W. 37n.9, 130n.50, 246n.13, 484n.3
index of names Paton, L. B. 527n.28 Paul, S. M. 39n.18, 116n.13, 212n.13, 484n.4 Paulus, H. E. G. 342n.10 Peltonen, K. 329, 329n.29, 332n.37 Perlitt, L. 424, 424n.18, 425n.21 Person, R. F. 317n.5, 324n.15, 326n.19, n.20, 329n.27, 332n.37, 333n.43, 334n.45, 398n.104, 417n.187 Peters, F. E. 449, 449n.8, 454 Petersen, A. R. 81, 81n.2, n.3, 82, 82n.7, 90 Petersen, D. L. 311, 311n.34, 366n.21 Pettinato, G. 91n.28 Peursen, W. Th. van 409n.154, 461n.6 Pfeiffer, R. H. 2n.6 Philonenko, M. 266 Phythian-Adams, W. J. 120, 120n.24 Pietersma, A. 459n.2 Piquer, A. 483n.1 Pococke, R. 113, 113n.1 Poels, H. A. 126n.38 Pola, T. 425, 425n.24, n.25 Polak, F. H. 470n.23, 493n.20, 496n.21, 497, 497n.22, 498, 498n.23 Polzin, R. 245n.9, 252, 252n.24, n.25, 383n.19, 384n.22, n.24, 385n.29, n.34, 386, 386n.37, n.40, 390n.55, 392n.66, n.67, 398n.105, 401n.116, 402, 402n.117, n.120, 403n.127, 404, 404n.128, n.131, n.134, 405, 406n.140, 411n.165, 412, 416n.183 Poorthuis, M. 448n.4 Pope, M. H. 525n.22, 552n.10 Porteous, N. W. xxiii Preminger, A. 261n.4 Prijs, L. 481n.42 Prinsloo, W. S. 287n.16, 522n.13 Pritchard, J. B. 114, 114n.5, n.6, n.7, 118n.17, 126n.40, 130n.52, 131n.55, n.56, 133, 133n.62, n.64, n.65, 137n.77 Puech, E. 44, 44n.37 Pulgram, E. 462n.9 Pummer, J. R. 238n.41 Purvis, J. D. 448n.3 Pury, A. de 106n.32, n.33, 258n.36, 320n.10, 422, 422n.12, 437n.62, 504n.6 Pyper, H. S. 356n.30
569
Rabin, C. 475n.28 Rad, G. von 23n.79, 24n.79, 27, 27n.3, 28, 29, 30, 32, 420 Radday, Y. 1, 2n.6, 24, 343n.13 Rapallo, U. 462n.10 Rapp, U. 370n.30, 440n.73 Rappoport, U. 44n.36 Redford, D. B. 160n.22, 161n.23, 162, 162n.26, n.27 Reid, J. 121n.28 Reid, S. B. 297n.53 Reimer, D. J. 285n.7, 360n.3, 362n.16, 372n.37 Reiser, W. 23, 23n.75, n.76, 24n.79 Rendsburg, G. A. 381, 381n.7, 382n.12, 385n.30, n.33 Rendtorff, R. xx, 552n.10 Revell, E. J. 518, 518n.4 Reventlow, H. G. 23n.75 Rezetko, R. ix, xiv, 1n.1, 258n.37, 331, 331n.34, 332, 332n.39, n.40, n.41, 333, 333n.42, 335, 379n.2, n.3, 380n.4, n.6, 381n.7, 383n.16, 387n.42, 388n.49, 389n.52, 390n.59, 392n.68, 395n.93, 398n.104, 401n.114, 407n.145, 412n.170 Richardson, M. E. J. xxvi, 86n.17, 88n.26 Richter, W. 105, 105n.30, 529n.2 Ricks, C. B. 141, 141n.7, n.8, n.9 Riggans, W. 439n.69 Ringgren, H. 13n.38, 191n.11, 394n.82 Roberts, J. J. M. 114n.5 Robertson, E. 213n.17, 214, 214n.19 Robinson, E. 113, 113n.3, 133, 133n.63 Robinson, G. L. 115n.10 Robinson, H. W. 460n.5 Robinson, J. 7n.23 Rodd, C. S. 360n.6, 376n.43 Rofé, A. 5n.15, 22, 22n.71, 37n.11, 39, 39n.18, 484n.4, 521n.9 Rogerson, J. xx, 247n.16 Römer, T. C. xix, xxii, 106n.32, n.33, 258n.36, 305n.13, 320n.10, 422n.12, 424n.19, 426n.26, n.30, 429n.38, 431n.43, 436n.57, 437n.62, 442n.81, 503n.2, 504n.6 Roncace, M. 4n.12 Rooker, M. F. 380n.5, 401, 401n.113, 405n.136, 407, 407n.147, 412n.170, 413, 413n.171, 417n.186 Rooy, H. F. van 225n.7 Rose, M. 389n.52, 420, 420n.4, 421
570
index of names
Rosenblum, K. E. 13, 13n.37 Rost, L. 257n.36, 507, 507n.13, n.14, n.17 Roth, C. 482n.44 Rothenbusch, R. 222n.41 Rowley, H. H. 121n.28, 135n.71 Rudnig-Zelt, S. 430n.40 Rudolph, W. xxv, 237n.38, 293n.43, 295n.48, 310, 310n.30, 485n.9, 486n.10, 525n.22 Ruprecht, E. 431n.44, 432n.47 Rüterswörden, U. 394n.82 Rutter, M. D. 507n.13 Saebø, M. xviii, 50n.4, 319n.8, 409n.155 Sáenz-Badillos, A. 390, 482n.44 Safrai, Ch. 448n.4 Sakenfeld, K. D. 245n.11, 277n.44 Saldarini, A. J. 17n.53, 234n.33 Saley, R. J. 37n.9, 130n.50 Salters, R. B. 63n.22, 119n.22, 441n.76 Sanmartín, J. xxvii Sasson, J. M. 274n.37, 277, 277n.43, n.44, 279, 281, 338n.2, 340, 341n.8, 355n.25 Satran, D. 45n.39 Satterthwaite, P. E. 9n.29, 16n.51 Sawyer, J. F. A. xvii, 121n.25, 178n.11, 322n.13 Sayce, A. H. 116, 116n.14 Schaeffer, C. F. A. 82n.4, 215n.23, 556, 556n.19 Schäfer, P. 180, 180n.16 Schäfer-Lichtenberger, C. 119, 119n.20 Schaper, J. 213n.18 Schearing, L. S. xviii, 319n.8, 426n.30 Schenker, A. 244n.6, 461n.8, 493n.20 Schiele, F. M. 28n.4 Schiffman, L. H. 35n.1, 41n.23, 484n.4, 491n.14 Schiller, J. 370n.30 Schimmel, S. 362n.16, 377, 377n.44 Schindler, B. 481n.43 Schlüter, M. 180n.16 Schmid, H. H. xix, 420, 420n.3, 422n.12, 503n.2 Schmid, K. xix, 208n.5, 422, 422n.11, 423n.14 Schmitt, G. 117n.16 Schnabel, P. 160n.20
Schneider, T. J. 530, 530n.6, 535n.16, 537, 537n.20, n.21, 538, 538n.23 Schniedewind, W. 133, 133n.66 Schoors, A. 226n.10, 381, 381n.10, 392n.69, 404, 404n.131 Schorn, U. 442n.81 Schunck, K.-D. 93, 93n.4, n.5, n.6, 99n.17, 100, 102n.21, 123n.31 Schwartz, D. R. 448n.4 Schwienhorst-Schönberger, L. 212n.15 Scott, R. xxvii Sed-Rajna, G. 183n.21 Seebass, H. 420, 420n.2, 424n.19, 438n.66, 439n.68 Seeligmann, I. L. 521n.9 Sefrit, J. 1n.1 Segal, M. H. 480n.38 Seow, C. L. 114n.5, 398n.105 Shaath, S. 228n.16 Shalom Brooks, S. 125n.37, 128, 128n.45 Sharfman, B. 219n.35 Shenkel, J. D. 306, 306n.18 Sheppard, G. T. 522n.13, 523n.18 Sherwin-White, S. 160n.20 Sherwood, Y. 343n.13, 344n.13, 347, 347n.18 Shields, M. 8n.28 Shiloh, Y. 99n.15 Showalter, E. 267 Sicre, J. L. 373n.37, n.41 Siebert-Hommes, J. 16n.51 Silberman, L. H. 15n.45 Simian-Yofre, H. 394n.82 Simkins, R. A. 286, 286n.13, 288, 288n.20, 289, 289n.25, 290n.31, 293n.41 Simon, U. 524n.19 Simons, J. 99n.17, 130n.53 Simpson, J. A. xxviii Ska, J.-L. 425n.22, 438n.67 Skalnik, P. 452n.16 Slotki, I. W. 204, 204n.34 Small, I. 179n.15 Smelik, K. A. D. 15n.44, 17n.51, 18n.54, 19n.65 Smend, R. xiii, xix, xxiii, 29n.7, 317, 319, 359n.2 Smith, D. 115n.12 Smith, H. P. 362n.15 Smith, J. M. P. 343n.11 Smith, M. 469n.21
index of names Smith, M. S. 552n.10, n.12, 556, 556n.19 Smith, W. R. 127, 127n.43, 211, 211n.12, 214n.20, 219n.31 Snaith, J. G. 525n.22 Soards, M. L. 96n.10 Soggin, J. A. xvii, 105n.28, 120n.23, 130n.53, 535n.16 Sommer, B. D. 62, 62n.21, 437n.59 Speiser, E. A. 115, 115n.10 Sperber, A. 479n.34, n.35 Stade, B. 224n.7, 229n.17, 489n.13 Staerk, W. 422n.12 Stalker, D. M. G. 23n.79, 27n.3 Stamm, J. J. xxvi Stec, C. 180 Steiner, M. L. xvi, 447n.1, 454n.21 Steins, G. 44n.36 Stern, E. 114n.5 Stern, M. 161n.25 Sternberg, M. 369n.26 Stoellger, P. 424n.18 Stone, M. E. 45n.38, n.39 Strange, J. 104n.24 Strübind, K. 300n.5 Stuart, D. K. 286, 286n.10, 289, 289n.24, 290, 290n.27, 294n.47, 297, 354n.25, 355n.25 Sutherland, J. S. 126n.38 Swanson, D. D. 44, 44n.36 Sweeney, M. A. 52n.11, 122n.29, 426n.30, 522n.14, 524, 524n.20 Tadmor, H. 4n.14, 6n.17, 8n.25, 120n.23, 224n.5, 228n.14, n.15, 229n.19, 230n.22, 234n.32, 390n.56 Talmon, S. 46n.42, 225n.8 Talshir, D. 335, 335n.48, 404, 404n.135, 412n.169, 416n.183, 417n.187 Talshir, Z. 493n.20 Tarragon, J.-M. de 82, 82n.5, n.6 Taylor, B. A. 461n.7, 493n.20 Taylor, G. xvi Thenius, O. 130, 130n.49 Thiel, W. 23, 23n.75, n.76, n.77 Thomas, D. W. 76n.14, 460n.5 Thompson, D. 281n.47 Thompson, T. 281n.47 Thompson, T. L. 454n.20, n.21 Thorion, Y. 43n.34 Throntveit, M. A. 416n.183 Tigay, J. H. 212n.13, 214n.19, 394n.86
571
Todd, J. 261n.2 Toorn, K. van der 38n.13, 448, 448n.6, 449 Tov, E. 45n.38, 459n.2, 461n.6, n.8, 462n.9, 466n.15, 471n.24, 479n.33, 484n.3, n.4 Trapp, T. H. 122n.29 Trask, R. L. 391n.60 Trebolle Barrera, J. 35n.1, 38n.15, 39n.17, 40, 331, 497n.22 Tregelles, S. P. 292n.37 Trible, P. 262n.5 Troilo, F. F. von 113, 113n.2 Tromp, J. 449, 449n.7 Tucker, G. M. 297n.53, 366n.21 Tyler, L. R. 391n.62, 392n.69, 405n.138, 409n.155 Uehlinger, C. 440n.72 Ulrich, E. C. 36, 36n.5, 37n.8, n.9, 38n.15, 130n.50, 270n.29, 328n.24, 484n.3, 492, 492n.16 Urbach, E. E. 183n.21 Vanderhooft, D. S. 156, 156n.9, 162n.28, 165n.30 VanderKam, J. C. 35n.1, 40n.19, 41n.23, 42, 42n.29, 328n.24, 491n.14 VanGemeren, W. A. 372n.37 Van Seters, J. xix, 168, 169n.34, 213n.15, 217n.26, 219, 219n.33, 220n.37, 221n.38, 257n.36, 258n.36, 420, 420n.6, 421, 422n.12, 503n.1, n.2, 504n.6, 507n.14, n.15, n.16, n.17, 510n.22, 512n.25 Vaughn, A. G. 454, 454n.20, n.21, n.22 Vaux, R. de xiii, 115, 115n.12 Veijola, T. 29n.7, 245n.10, 319 Vermaseren, M. J. 14n.40, 23n.78 Vermeylen, J. 523n.16 Vervenne, M. 432n.49, 436n.57 Vieweger, D. 425n.21 Vincent, L. H. 129n.47 Viviano, P. A. 235n.35 Vollmer, J. 524n.21 Waddell, W. G. 161n.22, n.24 Wagner, S. 425n.21 Walsh, J. T. 225n.7, 229n.19, 362, 362n.13, n.14 Walsh, M. 179n.15 Walters, P. 471n.24
572
index of names
Waltke, B. K. 68n.4, 373n.41, 518n.4 Walton, J. H. 121, 121n.27 Warshaw, T. S. 542n.29 Waschke, E.-J. 425n.21 Wasserstrom, S. M. 175n.3 Watson, W. G. E. xvii, 88n.27, 178n.11, 322n.13, 383n.19, 384n.22, n.25, n.26, 385n.32, n.35, 387n.42, 391n.65, 392n.70, 397, 397n.98, 404, 404n.135, 405n.146, 407n.146, 415n.180 Watts, F. N. 362n.16 Watts, J. D. W. 122n.29, 334n.46 Webb, B. 530n.3, 531n.7, 544n.33 Weidner, E. F. 57n.13 Weimar, P. 430n.40 Weinberg, J. P. 136n.74 Weiner, E. S. C. xxviii Weinfeld, M. xix, 39n.18, 57n.16, n.17, 116n.13, 120n.23, 212n.13, 224n.6, 232n.29, 233n.31, 235n.35, 318, 318n.6, 426n.28 Weinstock, I. 180, 183, 183n.22 Weippert, H. 156, 156n.7, 162n.28 Weiser, A. 192n.9 Weissert, D. 469, 469n.20, 479n.32 Wellhausen, J. xxiii, 30, 30n.9, 106n.31, 128, 128n.44, 130, 130n.49, 213n.15, 309, 309n.26, 310, 394n.83, 420, 420n.2, 496n.21, 515 Wenham, G. J. 360n.6, 361n.8, 362n.14, 373n.38, 439n.69, 543n.31 Wénin, A. 423n.15 Wesselius, J.-W. 142, 142n.12, n.13, 143n.14, 169n.34, 382n.15 Westermann, C. 319n.8, 320n.8 Wette, W. M. L. de 128n.44, 504, 504n.4, 515 Wevers, J. W. 459n.2 Whitaker, R. E. 114n.5 Whitelam, K. W. 252, 252n.26, 308n.23 Whybray, R. N. 286n.11 Wiegers, G. A. 447n.2, 448n.5, n.6, 449n.7 Wildberger, H. 122n.29 Willey, P. K. 256n.31 Willi, T. 238n.39 Williamson, H. G. M. xx, xxii, 46n.44, 66n.23, 114n.8, 124n.33, 133n.61, 135n.73, 136n.74, 238n.39, 258n.36, 283n.3, 303n.8, 310, 310n.31, 312n.35, 315n.1, 325n.18, 356n.26, 386n.38, 387n.42, 389n.52,
390n.53, 391n.64, 394n.82, 396n.94, 402n.119, 404n.129, 405n.139, 406n.142, 411, 411n.161, 416n.183, 505, 505n.8, n.9, 508, 508n.18, n.19, 509n.21, 511n.23, 512n.24, 521n.9 Willis, J. T. 191n.8, 192, 192n.10, n.13, 522, 522n.11 Wilson, R. A. 105n.28, 120n.23, 122n.30 Wilson, R. R. 99n.16, 366n.21 Winnett, F. V. 422, 422n.9, n.12 Wiseman, D. J. 8, 8n.26 Wissowa, G. 161n.22 Witte, M. 208n.5, 423n.14 Wolff, H. W. 27, 27n.1, n.3, 28, 30, 286n.9, 288, 288n.19, 292n.39, 293, 293n.43, 294n.47, 295n.48, 425n.21 Worthen, J. 179n.15 Wright, D. F. xvii Wright, D. P. 304n.11, 387n.43 Wright, G. E. 99n.17, 192 Wright, J. E. 15n.45 Wright, J. W. 328n.25 Wright, R. M. 407n.144 Wright, W. 211n.12 Würthwein, E. 224n.5, 229n.17, 319, 319n.7, n.8, 320, 321, 322, 323, 324, 488, 488n.12, 520n.7 Wyatt, N. 82, 82n.8, 83, 83n.10, n.11, 84n.13, 86, 87n.19, 88, 88n.25, n.27, 91, 92n.29, 243n.5, 547n.1, n.2, 548n.4, 550n.6, 551n.9, 554n.15, n.16, 556, 556n.19, n.20 Yadin, Y. 44, 44n.35, 45, 45n.41 Yamauchi, E. M. 381.n8 Yee, G. A. 522n.13 Yeivin, S. 243n.5 Young, I. 315n.2, 330n.32, 331n.34, 335, 335n.47, n.48, 379n.1, n.2, 380, 381n.7, n.8, 382n.16, 387n.42, 395, 395n.92, 401, 401n.114, 405n.137, 407n.144, 409n.155, 412n.169, 413, 413n.172, 416n.183, 417n.187 Younger, K. L. 84n.12, 126n.40, 226n.10, 412n.168 Zadok, R. 136n.75 Zakovitch, Y. 277n.44 Zeidel, M. 231, 231n.26 Zenger, E. 426n.29, 484n.5 Zevit, Z. 451n.11, n.14, 519n.6 Zimmerli, W. xxi, 58n.18, 395n.90
SUPPLEMENTS TO VETUS TESTAMENTUM 2. Pope, M.H. El in the Ugaritic texts. 1955. ISBN 90 04 04000 5 3. Wisdom in Israel and in the Ancient Near East. Presented to Harold Henry Rowley by the Editorial Board of Vetus Testamentum in celebration of his 65th birthday, 24 March 1955. Edited by M. Noth and D. Winton Thomas. 2nd reprint of the first (1955) ed. 1969. ISBN 90 04 02326 7 4. Volume du Congrès [international pour l’étude de l’Ancien Testament]. Strasbourg 1956. 1957. ISBN 90 04 02327 5 8. Bernhardt, K.-H. Das Problem der alt-orientalischen Königsideologie im Alten Testament. Unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Geschichte der Psalmenexegese dargestellt und kritisch gewürdigt. 1961. ISBN 90 04 02331 3 9. Congress Volume, Bonn 1962. 1963. ISBN 90 04 02332 1 11. Donner, H. Israel unter den Völkern. Die Stellung der klassischen Propheten des 8. Jahrhunderts v. Chr. zur Aussenpolitik der Könige von Israel und Juda. 1964. ISBN 90 04 02334 8 12. Reider, J. An Index to Aquila. Completed and revised by N. Turner. 1966. ISBN 90 04 02335 6 13. Roth, W.M.W. Numerical sayings in the Old Testament. A form-critical study. 1965. ISBN 90 04 02336 4 14. Orlinsky, H.M. Studies on the second part of the Book of Isaiah. — The so-called ‘Servant of the Lord’ and ‘Suffering Servant’ in Second Isaiah. — Snaith, N.H. Isaiah 40-66. A study of the teaching of the Second Isaiah and its consequences. Repr. with additions and corrections. 1977. ISBN 90 04 05437 5 15. Volume du Congrès [International pour l’étude de l’Ancien Testament]. Genève 1965. 1966. ISBN 90 04 02337 2 17. Congress Volume, Rome 1968. 1969. ISBN 90 04 02339 9 19. Thompson, R.J. Moses and the Law in a century of criticism since Graf. 1970. ISBN 90 04 02341 0 20. Redford, D.B. A Study of the Biblical Story of Joseph. 1970. ISBN 90 04 02342 9 21. Ahlström, G.W. Joel and the Temple Cult of Jerusalem. 1971. ISBN 90 04 02620 7 22. Congress Volume, Uppsala 1971. 1972. ISBN 90 04 03521 4 23. Studies in the Religion of Ancient Israel. 1972. ISBN 90 04 03525 7 24. Schoors, A. I am God your Saviour. A form-critical study of the main genres in Is. xllv. 1973. ISBN 90 04 03792 2 25. Allen, L.C. The Greek Chronicles. The relation of the Septuagint I and II Chronicles to the Massoretic text. Part 1. The translator’s craft. 1974. ISBN 90 04 03913 9 26. Studies on prophecy. A collection of twelve papers. 1974. ISBN 90 04 03877 9 27. Allen, L.C. The Greek Chronicles. Part 2. Textual criticism. 1974. ISBN 90 04 03933 3 28. Congress Volume, Edinburgh 1974. 1975. ISBN 90 04 04321 7 29. Congress Volume, Göttingen 1977. 1978. ISBN 90 04 05835 4 30. Emerton, J.A. (ed.). Studies in the historical books of the Old Testament. 1979. ISBN 90 04 06017 0 31. Meredino, R.P. Der Erste und der Letzte. Eine Untersuchung von Jes 40-48. 1981. ISBN 90 04 06199 1 32. Emerton, J.A. (ed.). Congress Volume,Vienna 1980. 1981. ISBN 90 04 06514 8 33. Koenig, J. L’herméneutique analogique du Judaïsme antique d’après les témoins textuels d’Isaïe. 1982. ISBN 90 04 06762 0
34. Barstad, H.M. The religious polemics of Amos. Studies in the preachings of Amos ii 7B-8, iv 1-13, v 1-27, vi 4-7, viii 14. 1984. ISBN 90 04 07017 6 35. Kraàovec, J. Antithetic structure in Biblical Hebrew poetry. 1984. ISBN 90 04 07244 6 36. Emerton, J.A. (ed.). Congress Volume, Salamanca 1983. 1985. ISBN 90 04 07281 0 37. Lemche, N.P. Early Israel. Anthropological and historical studies on the Israelite society before the monarchy. 1985. ISBN 90 04 07853 3 38. Nielsen, K. Incense in Ancient Israel. 1986. ISBN 90 04 07702 2 39. Pardee, D. Ugaritic and Hebrew poetic parallelism. A trial cut. 1988. ISBN 90 04 08368 5 40. Emerton, J.A. (ed.). Congress Volume, Jerusalem 1986. 1988. ISBN 90 04 08499 1 41. Emerton, J.A. (ed.). Studies in the Pentateuch. 1990. ISBN 90 04 09195 5 42. McKenzie, S.L. The trouble with Kings. The composition of the Book of Kings in the Deuteronomistic History. 1991. ISBN 90 04 09402 4 43. Emerton, J.A. (ed.). Congress Volume, Leuven 1989. 1991. ISBN 90 04 09398 2 44. Haak, R.D. Habakkuk. 1992. ISBN 90 04 09506 3 45. Beyerlin, W. Im Licht der Traditionen. Psalm LXVII und CXV. Ein Entwicklungszusammenhang. 1992. ISBN 90 04 09635 3 46. Meier, S.A. Speaking of Speaking. Marking direct discourse in the Hebrew Bible. 1992. ISBN 90 04 09602 7 47. Kessler, R. Staat und Gesellschaft im vorexilischen Juda. Vom 8. Jahrhundert bis zum Exil. 1992. ISBN 90 04 09646 9 48. Auffret, P. Voyez de vos yeux. Étude structurelle de vingt psaumes, dont le psaume 119. 1993. ISBN 90 04 09707 4 49. García Martínez, F., A. Hilhorst and C.J. Labuschagne (eds.). The Scriptures and the Scrolls. Studies in honour of A.S. van der Woude on the occasion of his 65th birthday. 1992. ISBN 90 04 09746 5 50. Lemaire, A. and B. Otzen (eds.). History and Traditions of Early Israel. Studies presented to Eduard Nielsen, May 8th, 1993. 1993. ISBN 90 04 09851 8 51. Gordon, R.P. Studies in the Targum to the Twelve Prophets. From Nahum to Malachi. 1994. ISBN 90 04 09987 5 52. Hugenberger, G.P. Marriage as a Covenant. A Study of Biblical Law and Ethics Governing Marriage Developed from the Perspective of Malachi. 1994. ISBN 90 04 09977 8 53. García Martínez, F., A. Hilhorst, J.T.A.G.M. van Ruiten, A.S. van der Woude. Studies in Deuteronomy. In Honour of C.J. Labuschagne on the Occasion of His 65th Birthday. 1994. ISBN 90 04 10052 0 54. Fernández Marcos, N. Septuagint and Old Latin in the Book of Kings. 1994. ISBN 90 04 10043 1 55. Smith, M.S. The Ugaritic Baal Cycle. Volume 1. Introduction with text, translation and commentary of KTU 1.1-1.2. 1994. ISBN 90 04 09995 6 56. Duguid, I.M. Ezekiel and the Leaders of Israel. 1994. ISBN 90 04 10074 1 57. Marx, A. Les offrandes végétales dans l’Ancien Testament. Du tribut d’hommage au repas eschatologique. 1994. ISBN 90 04 10136 5 58. Schäfer-Lichtenberger, C. Josua und Salomo. Eine Studie zu Autorität und Legitimität des Nachfolgers im Alten Testament. 1995. ISBN 90 04 10064 4 59. Lasserre, G. Synopse des lois du Pentateuque. 1994. ISBN 90 04 10202 7 60. Dogniez, C. Bibliography of the Septuagint – Bibliographie de la Septante (1970-1993). Avec une préface de Pierre-Maurice Bogaert. 1995. ISBN 90 04 10192 6 61. Emerton, J.A. (ed.). Congress Volume, Paris 1992. 1995. ISBN 90 04 10259 0 62. Smith, P.A. Rhetoric and Redaction in Trito-Isaiah. The Structure, Growth and Authorship of Isaiah 56-66. 1995. ISBN 90 04 10306 6
63. O’Connell, R.H. The Rhetoric of the Book of Judges. 1996. ISBN 90 04 10104 7 64. Harland, P. J. The Value of Human Life. A Study of the Story of the Flood (Genesis 6-9). 1996. ISBN 90 04 10534 4 65. Roland Page Jr., H. The Myth of Cosmic Rebellion. A Study of its Reflexes in Ugaritic and Biblical Literature. 1996. ISBN 90 04 10563 8 66. Emerton, J.A. (ed.). Congress Volume, Cambridge 1995. 1997. ISBN 90 04 106871 67. Joosten, J. People and Land in the Holiness Code. An Exegetical Study of the Ideational Framework of the Law in Leviticus 17–26. 1996. ISBN 90 04 10557 3 68. Beentjes, P.C. The Book of Ben Sira in Hebrew. A Text Edition of all Extant Hebrew Manuscripts and a Synopsis of all Parallel Hebrew Ben Sira Texts. 1997. ISBN 90 04 10767 3 69. Cook, J. The Septuagint of Proverbs – Jewish and/or Hellenistic Proverbs? Concerning the Hellenistic Colouring of LXX Proverbs. 1997. ISBN 90 04 10879 3 70,1 Broyles, G. and C. Evans (eds.). Writing and Reading the Scroll of Isaiah. Studies of an Interpretive Tradition, I. 1997. ISBN 90 04 10936 6 (Vol. I); ISBN 90 04 11027 5 (Set ) 70,2 Broyles, G. and C. Evans (eds.). Writing and Reading the Scroll of Isaiah. Studies of an Interpretive Tradition, II. 1997. ISBN 90 04 11026 7 (Vol. II); ISBN 90 04 11027 5 (Set ) 71. Kooij, A. van der. The Oracle of Tyre. The Septuagint of Isaiah 23 as Version and Vision. 1998. ISBN 90 04 11152 2 72. Tov, E. The Greek and Hebrew Bible. Collected Essays on the Septuagint. 1999. ISBN 90 04 11309 6 73. García Martínez, F. and Noort, E. (eds.). Perspectives in the Study of the Old Testament and Early Judaism. A Symposium in honour of Adam S. van der Woude on the occasion of his 70th birthday. 1998. ISBN 90 04 11322 3 74. Kassis, R.A. The Book of Proverbs and Arabic Proverbial Works. 1999. ISBN 90 04 11305 3 75. Rösel, H.N. Von Josua bis Jojachin. Untersuchungen zu den deuteronomistischen Geschichtsbüchern des Alten Testaments. 1999. ISBN 90 04 11355 5 76. Renz, Th. The Rhetorical Function of the Book of Ezekiel. 1999. ISBN 90 04 11362 2 77. Harland, P.J. and Hayward, C.T.R. (eds.). New Heaven and New Earth Prophecy and the Millenium. Essays in Honour of Anthony Gelston. 1999. ISBN 90 04 10841 6 78. Kraàovec, J. Reward, Punishment, and Forgiveness. The Thinking and Beliefs of Ancient Israel in the Light of Greek and Modern Views. 1999. ISBN 90 04 11443 2. 79. Kossmann, R. Die Esthernovelle – Vom Erzählten zur Erzählung. Studien zur Traditionsund Redaktionsgeschichte des Estherbuches. 2000. ISBN 90 04 11556 0. 80. Lemaire, A. and M. Sæbø (eds.). Congress Volume, Oslo 1998. 2000. ISBN 90 04 11598 6. 81. Galil, G. and M. Weinfeld (eds.). Studies in Historical Geography and Biblical Historiography. Presented to Zecharia Kallai. 2000. ISBN 90 04 11608 7 82. Collins, N.L. The library in Alexandria and the Bible in Greek. 2001. ISBN 90 04 11866 7 83,1 Collins, J.J. and P.W. Flint (eds.). The Book of Daniel. Composition and Reception, I. 2001. ISBN 90 04 11675 3 (Vol. I); ISBN 90 04 12202 8 (Set ). 83,2 Collins, J.J. and P.W. Flint (eds.). The Book of Daniel. Composition and Reception, II. 2001. ISBN 90 04 12200 1 (Vol. II); ISBN 90 04 12202 8 (Set ).
84. Cohen, C.H.R. Contextual Priority in Biblical Hebrew Philology. An Application of the Held Method for Comparative Semitic Philology. 2001. ISBN 90 04 11670 2 (In preparation). 85. Wagenaar, J.A. Judgement and Salvation. The Composition and Redaction of Micah 2-5. 2001. ISBN 90 04 11936 1 86. McLaughlin, J.L. The Marz¿aÈ in sthe Prophetic Literature. References and Allusions in Light of the Extra-Biblical Evidence. 2001. ISBN 90 04 12006 8 87. Wong, K.L. The Idea of Retribution in the Book of Ezekiel 2001. ISBN 90 04 12256 7 88. Barrick, W. Boyd. The King and the Cemeteries. Toward a New Understanding of Josiah’s Reform. 2002. ISBN 90 04 12171 4 89. Frankel, D. The Murmuring Stories of the Priestly School. A Retrieval of Ancient Sacerdotal Lore. 2002. ISBN 90 04 12368 7 90. Frydrych, T. Living under the Sun. Examination of Proverbs and Qoheleth. 2002. ISBN 90 04 12315 6 91. Kessel, J. The Book of Haggai. Prophecy and Society in Early Persian Yehud. 2002. ISBN 90 04 12368 7 92. Lemaire, A. (ed.). Congress Volume, Basel 2001. 2002. ISBN 90 04 12680 5 93. Rendtorff, R. and R.A. Kugler (eds.). The Book of Leviticus. Composition and Reception. 2003. ISBN 90 04 12634 1 94. Paul, S.M., R.A. Kraft, L.H. Schiffman and W.W. Fields (eds.). Emanuel. Studies in Hebrew Bible, Septuagint, and Dead Sea Scrolls in Honor of Emanuel Tov. 2003. ISBN 90 04 13007 1 95. Vos, J.C. de. Das Los Judas. Über Entstehung und Ziele der Landbeschreibung in Josua 15. ISBN 90 04 12953 7 96. Lehnart, B. Prophet und König im Nordreich Israel. Studien zur sogenannten vorklassischen Prophetie im Nordreich Israel anhand der Samuel-, Elija- und ElischaÜberlieferungen. 2003. ISBN 90 04 13237 6 97. Lo, A. Job 28 as Rhetoric. An Analysis of Job 28 in the Context of Job 22-31. 2003. ISBN 90 04 13320 8 98. Trudinger, P.L. The Psalms of the Tamid Service. A Liturgical Text from the Second Temple. 2004. ISBN 90 04 12968 5 99. Flint, P.W. and P.D. Miller, Jr. (eds.) with the assistance of A. Brunell. The Book of Psalms. Composition and Reception. 2004. ISBN 90 04 13842 8 100. Weinfeld, M. The Place of the Law in the Religion of Ancient Israel. 2004. ISBN 90 04 13749 1 101. Flint, P.W., J.C. VanderKam and E. Tov. (eds.) Studies in the Hebrew Bible, Qumran, and the Septuagint. Essays Presented to Eugene Ulrich on the Occasion of his Sixty-Fifth Birthday. 2004. ISBN 90 04 13738 6 102. Meer, M.N. van der. Formation and Reformulation. The Redaction of the Book of Joshua in the Light of the Oldest Textual Witnesses. 2004. ISBN 90 04 13125 6 103. Berman, J.A. Narrative Analogy in the Hebrew Bible. Battle Stories and Their Equivalent Non-battle Narratives. 2004. ISBN 90 04 13119 1 104. Keulen, P.S.F. van. Two Versions of the Solomon Narrative. An Inquiry into the Relationship between MT 1 Kgs. 2-11 and LXX 3 Reg. 2-11. 2004. ISBN 90 04 13895 1 105. Marx, A. Les systèmes sacrificiels de l’Ancien Testament. Forms et fonctions du culte sacrificiel à Yhwh. 2005. ISBN 90 04 14286 X 106. Assis, E. Self-Interest or Communal Interest. An Ideology of Leadership in the Gideon, Abimelech and Jephthah Narritives ( Judg 6-12). 2005. ISBN 90 04 14354 8 107. Weiss, A.L. Figurative Language in Biblical Prose Narrative. Metaphor in the Book of Samuel. 2006. ISBN 90 04 14837 X
108. Wagner, T. Gottes Herrschaft. Eine Analyse der Denkschrift (Jes 6, 1-9,6). 2006. ISBN 90 04 14912 0 109. Lemaire, A. (ed.). Congress Volume Leiden 2004. 2006. ISBN 90 04 14913 9 110. Goldman, Y.A.P., A. van der Kooij and R.D. Weis (eds.). Sôfer Mahîr. Essays in Honour of Adrian Schenker Offered by Editors of Biblia Hebraica Quinta. ISBN 90 04 15016 1 111. Wong, G.T.K. Compositional Strategy of the Book of Judges. An Inductive, Rhetorical Study. 2006. ISBN 90 04 15086 2 112. Høyland Lavik, M. A People Tall and Smooth-Skinned. The Rhetoric of Isaiah 18. 2006. ISBN 90 04 15434 5 113. Rezetko, R., T.H. Lim and W.B. Aucker (eds.). Reflection and Refraction. Studies in Biblical Historiography in Honour of A. Graeme Auld. 2006. ISBN 90 04 14512 5