Dead Sea Media (Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah) 9004407715, 9789004407718

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Dead Sea Media

Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah Edited by George J. Brooke Associate Editors Eibert J.C. Tigchelaar Jonathan Ben-Dov Alison Schofield

volume 129

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/stdj

Dead Sea Media Orality, Textuality, and Memory in the Scrolls from the Judean Desert

By

Shem Miller

LEIDEN | BOSTON

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Miller, Shem, 1974– author. Title: Dead Sea media : orality, textuality and memory in the scrolls from  the Judean desert / by Shem Miller. Description: Leiden ; Boston : Brill, [2019] | Series: Studies on the texts  of the desert of Judah, 0169-9962 ; volume 129 | Includes  bibliographical references. Identifiers: LCCN 2019023147 (print) | LCCN 2019023148 (ebook) |  ISBN 9789004407718 (hardback) | ISBN 9789004408203 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Dead Sea scrolls. | Bible. Old Testament—Criticism,  interpretation, etc. | Tradition (Judaism) | Collective memory—Israel.  | Judaism—History—Post-exilic period, 586 BC–210 AD |  Jews—History—586 BC–70 AD Classification: LCC BM487 .M525 2019 (print) | LCC BM487 (ebook) |  DDC 296.1/55—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019023147 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019023148

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. issn 0169-9962 isbn 978-90-04-40771-8 (hardback) isbn 978-90-04-40820-3 (e-book) Copyright 2019 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi, Brill Sense, Hotei Publishing, mentis Verlag, Verlag Ferdinand Schöningh and Wilhelm Fink Verlag. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

To dad, my most influential professor.

…

In memoriam Matthew William Sandler 1975–1999

∵

Contents Acknowledgements xi List of Tables xiii List of Figures xv Abbreviations xviii Introduction 1 1 Textual Criticism 5 2 Media Criticism 8 3 Media Studies 11 3.1 Comparative Study of Oral Tradition 12 3.2 Scrolls as an Oral Medium 17 3.3 Scrolls as a Written Medium 21 3.4 Scrolls as a Medium for Memory 29 4 Summary 37 1 Oral Performance 39 1 Oral Performance of Members 43 1.1 Local Chapter Meetings 45 1.2 Nightly Study Session 48 1.3 General Membership Meeting 53 1.4 Covenant Renewal Ceremony 55 1.5 Admission Procedures 57 1.6 Meeting of Israel in the Last Days 59 2 Oral Performance of Leaders 62 2.1 Maskil 63 2.2 Mebaqqer 66 2.3 Paqid 70 2.4 Priests and Judges 73 3 Conclusion 74 2 Oral Tradition and Oral Authority 77 1 Oral Tradition 80 2 Oral-Traditional Texts 84 2.1 Written Oral Poems 86 2.2 Voiced Texts 86 2.3 Voices from the Past 87 2.4 Oral Performance 93

viii 3 Oral Law and Oral Authority 98 4 Oral Transmission 106 4.1 Smooth Words 107 4.2 Hold Fast 110 5 Conclusion 114 3 Oral-Written Textuality 116 1 Stichometry and Colometry 118 1.1 Corpus of Stichographic Texts 120 1.2 Systems of Stichography 122 2 Literary Functions of Stichography 124 2.1 Graphically Represent Cola 128 2.2 Graphically Represent Parallelism 132 2.3 Graphically Represent Interpretation 137 3 Oral Functions of Stichography 140 3.1 Visible Song of Scribal Performance 143 4 Sociolinguistic Setting of Stichography 148 5 Conclusion 151 4 Oral-Written Register 154 1 Special Layouts 157 1.1 Song of the Sea 158 1.2 Song of Moses 161 2 Spacing Techniques 166 2.1 Performance Cues 168 2.2 Pedagogical Cues 178 3 Special Codes 182 3.1 Scribal Markings 182 3.2 Cryptic Scripts 184 3.3 Divine Codenames 185 4 Conclusion 187 5 Cultural Memory 188 1 Performance Criticism 191 2 Sociolinguistic Context of the Hodayot 193 2.1 Public Praise and Worship 196 3 Cultural Memory of Membership 200 3.1 We Are What We Remember 202 3.2 We Are What We Belong To 204 3.3 We Remember What We Are through Cultural Texts 206

Contents

Contents

4 Performance Role of the Maskil 207 4.1 The Maskil’s Fictional Character 208 4.2 The Maskil’s Oaths of Office 212 5 Cultural Memory of Leadership 215 5.1 Oral-Written Performance 216 5.2 Answer of the Tongue 221 6 Conclusion 224 6 Scribal Memory 226 1 Scribal Memory and Scribal Performance 230 2 Long-Term Memory 233 3 Episodic Memory 235 3.1 Spacing Techniques 235 3.2 Versions 239 3.3 Memory as a Multi-Stem Tree 245 4 Short-Term Memory 249 4.1 Gist Memory 251 4.2 Memory Variants 252 4.3 Memory Multiforms 254 5 The Hodayot 256 6 The Community Rule 259 7 Conclusion 265 Conclusion 267 1 An Ancient Media Criticism 270 2 Dead Sea Media 273 Bibliography 281 Index of Ancient Sources 305 Index of Subjects 317

ix

Acknowledgements This book has had a long journey. As luck would have it, I arrived at my best ideas when concluding my dissertation. But, as the Latin proverb goes, “fortune favors the bold.” So, after completing my doctoral studies at Florida State University, I embarked on a completely different project rather than revising my dissertation into a monograph. That being said, many of my arguments below depend on the painstaking research presented in my unpublished dissertation, Innovation and Convention: An Analysis of Parallelism in Stichographic, Hymnic and Sapiential Poetry in the Dead Sea Scrolls (2012). Moreover, portions of several chapters have been previously published. They are modified and reused here with permission. In particular, parts of chapter 1 originally appeared in “‘Sectual’ Performance in Rule Texts,” Dead Sea Discoveries 25 (2018): 15–38; parts of chapters 3 and 4 originally appeared in “The Oral-Written Textuality of Stichographic Poetry in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” Dead Sea Discoveries 22 (2015): 162–88; parts of chapter 4 originally appeared in “A Scribe Speaks: The Oral Register of Scribal Practices as Reflected in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” Kleine Untersuchungen zur Sprache des Alten Testaments und seiner Umwelt 22 (2017): 75–100; parts of chapter 5 originally appeared in “Role of Performance and Performance of Role: Cultural Memory in the Hodayot,” Journal of Biblical Literature 137 (2018): 359–81; parts of chapters 3 and 6 originally appeared in “Multiformity of Stichographic Systems in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” Revue de Qumrân 29 (2017): 219–45. I thank the publishers for their permission to include material from these articles in this book. I am grateful to my mentors, Matthew J. Goff and Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar, who each left their unique voice swimming around my head as I wrote this book. The voice of Matthew beckoned me to step back and see the forest for the trees, while Eibert’s demanded attention to details when I couldn’t see the forest for the trees. I am tremendously grateful to George J. Brooke for recognizing the potential of my unpolished ideas and accepting my manuscript for publication in the Studies on the Texts of the Judean Desert series. I also thank Cynthia Miller-Naudé and Jacobus Naudé, who supported my work with a research fellowship from the Department of Hebrew at the University of the Free State. Several other people aided me and encouraged me during this long process. I thank Reinhard L. Lehmann for his generous invitation to present some of my early ideas at the Mainz International Colloquium on Ancient Hebrew & Cognate Languages at the Johannes Gutenberg University of Mainz, Germany. I am also indebted to Joseph Hellweg, who should be credited for sparking my interest in orality studies and ethnopoetics. Also, this book would not have

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Acknowledgements

been the same without Raymond F. Person. My conversations with Ray while writing this book have been indispensable for sharpening my thoughts. I also wish to express my gratitude to my copyeditors, Tara Baldrick-Morrone and Tracy Campbell, whose eagle eyes and fastidious work circumvented many blunders. Finally, and most importantly, I thank my wife Noni for her steadfast support and unswerving encouragement along the way.

Tables 1 Types of oral-traditional texts 85 2 Continuous script versus stichography 117 3 Biblical manuscripts displaying stichographic layout 121 4 Stichographic systems in the Dead Sea Scrolls 123 5 Transcription of 4QPentateuchc (4Q365) 6b 1–6 125 6 Translation of 4QPentateuchc (4Q365) 6b 1–6 125 7 Transcription of 4QExodc (4Q14) VI 33 ii 40–42 126 8 Translation of 4QExodc (4Q14) VI 33 ii 40–42 126 9 4QPsc (4Q85) I 13–15 i 22–23 130 10 Song of the Sea, strophe 14 (4Q365 6b 1//Exod 15:16) 133 11 Song of the Sea, strophe 15 (4Q365 6b 1–2//Exod 15:17) 134 12 Song of the Sea, strophe 16 (4Q365 6b 3//Exod 15:18) 135 13 Song of the Sea, strophe 17 (4Q365 6b 3–5//Exod 15:19) 135 14 MasPsa 2:22–23 (Ps 83:9–11) 138 15 Psalm 102:23–24 in 4QPsb (4Q84) XXI 13–16 139 16 Psalm 102:23–24 in 𝔐 140 17 Colometry of Psalm 103:3–5 in Codex Sinaiticus 156 18 Stichography of Psalm 104:3b–5 in 4QPsl (4Q93) I 7–12 156 19 Interlocking pattern (Exod 15:19) 160 20 Stichography of Leningrad Codex (Exod 15:19)  160 21 Transcription of 4QDeutq (4Q44) I–II 1–11 162 22 Translation of 4QDeutq (4Q44) I–II 1–11 162 23 Song of Moses in Abisha Scroll 164 24 Transcription of 4Q525 2–3 ii 1–6 171 25 Translation of 4Q525 2–3 ii 1–6 171 26 The eight lines in 4Q525 2–3 ii 1–6 172 27 Translation of 4Q424 3 6–8 174 28 The six proverbs in 4Q424 3 6–8 174 29 Translation of 4Q424 1 4b–10 175 30 The five proverbs in 4Q424 1 4b–10 175 31 Translation of Deuteronomy 8:5–10 in 4QDeutn (4Q41) I 1–8 176 32 1QIsaa 15:17–20 (Isa 19:14–15) 180 33 1QIsab (1Q8) VII 7–8 (Isaiah 19:14–15a)  181 34 “Answer of the tongue” in the Hodayot 223 35 Types of stichography in the Dead Sea Scrolls 238 36 A synoptic comparison of 4Q491, 4Q471b, and 4Q427 242 37 Translations of 4Q491 11 i 18, 4Q471b 1a–d 8–9, and 4Q427 7 i 11–12 243

xiv 38 39 40 41 42

Tables Variations in 1QHa, 4QHa, and 4QHb 257 A synoptic comparison of 1QHa 20:5, 4QHa 3 2, and 4QHb 12 ii 1 258 Four memory variants in 1QHa 20:5, 4QHa 3 2, and 4QHb 12 ii 1 258 A synoptic comparison of 1QS, 4QSd, and 4QSg 260 Translation of 1QS 5:22–23, 4QSd II 2–3, and 4QSg 1a–b 2–4 261

Figures 1

2

3

4

5

6

Facsimile of 4QPentateuchc (4Q365) 6b 1–6. Courtesy of the Israel Antiquities Authority; photographer: Shai Halevi. This image was taken from the Leon Levy Dead Sea Scrolls Digital Library found at http://www.deadseascrolls.org. 125 Facsimile of 4QExodc (4Q14) VI 33 ii 40–42. Courtesy of the Israel Antiquities Authority; photographer: Shai Halevi. This image was taken from the Leon Levy Dead Sea Scrolls Digital Library found at http://www.deadseascrolls.org.il. 126 Psalm 104:3–5 in the DSS and the LXX. Left: Courtesy of the Israel Antiquities Authority; photographer: Shai Halevi. This image was taken from the Leon Levy Dead Sea Scrolls Digital Library found at http://www.deadseascrolls.org.il. Right: Courtesy of the British Library; photographers: Elisabeth Fritsch-Hartung and Svetlana Shevelchinskaya. This image was taken from the Codex Sinaiticus Project found at http://www.codexsinaiticus.org/en/. 156 Interlocking layout of 4Q365 and 𝔐L. Photograph of 𝔐L by Bruce and Kenneth Zuckerman, West Semitic Research, in collaboration with the Ancient Biblical Manuscript Center. Courtesy Russian National Library (Saltykov-Shchedrin). For a facsimile of the entire folio, see David Noel Freedman, Astrid B. Beck, and James A. Sanders, eds., The Leningrad Codex: A Facsimile Edition (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1988), folio 40v. Photograph of 4Q365 by Shai Halevi; Courtesy of the Israel Antiquities Authority. 159 Bi-columnar layout in Aleppo Codex. Left: Courtesy of the Israel Antiquities Authority; Photographer: Najib Anton Albina. This image was taken from Stephen J. Pfann and Emanuel Tov, eds., The Dead Sea Scrolls on Microfiche: A Comprehensive Facsimile Edition of the Texts from the Judean Desert (Leiden: Brill, 1993). Right: Courtesy of the Ben-Zevi Institute, Jerusalem; Photographer: Ardon Bar Hama. This image was taken from the Aleppo Codex Project found at http://www.aleppocodex.org/. For a facsimile of 𝔐A, see Moshe H. GoshenGottstein, ed., The Aleppo Codex: Facsimile Edition (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1976). 162 Bi-columnar layout in Leningrad Codex. Left: Courtesy of the Israel Antiquities Authority; Photographer: Najib Anton Albina. This image was taken from Stephen J. Pfann and Emanuel Tov, eds., The Dead Sea Scrolls on Microfiche: A Comprehensive Facsimile Edition of the Texts from the Judean Desert (Leiden: Brill, 1993). Right: Photograph by Bruce and Kenneth Zuckerman, West Semitic Research, in collaboration with the Ancient Biblical Manuscript Center. Courtesy Russian National Library (Saltykov-Shchedrin). For a facsimile of the entire folio, see David Noel Freedman, Astrid B. Beck, and James A. Sanders,

xvi

Figures

eds., The Leningrad Codex: A Facsimile Edition (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1988), folio 119r. 165 7 Psalm 104 in 4QPsl (4Q93) and the Masoretic Text. Left: Courtesy of the Israel Antiquities Authority; Photographer: Shai Halevi. This image was taken from the Leon Levy Dead Sea Scrolls Digital Library found at http://www.deadsea scrolls.org.il. Right: Photograph by Bruce and Kenneth Zuckerman, West Semitic Research, in collaboration with the Ancient Biblical Manuscript Center. Courtesy Russian National Library (Saltykov-Shchedrin). For a facsimile of the entire folio, see David Noel Freedman, Astrid B. Beck, and James A. Sanders, eds., The Leningrad Codex: A Facsimile Edition (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1988), folio 387r. 167 8 Spacing of 4Q286 7a ii 1–5. Courtesy of the Israel Antiquities Authority; Photographer: Najib Anton Albina. This image was taken from Stephen J. Pfann and Emanuel Tov, eds., The Dead Sea Scrolls on Microfiche: A Comprehensive Facsimile Edition of the Texts from the Judean Desert (Leiden: Brill, 1993). 169 9 4QBeatitudes (4Q525) 2–3 ii 1–6. Courtesy of the Israel Antiquities Authority; Photographer: Shai Halevi. This image was taken from the Leon Levy Dead Sea Scrolls Digital Library found at http://www.deadseascrolls.org.il. 171 10 Instruction-like Work (4Q424) 3 6–8. Courtesy of the Israel Antiquities Authority; Photographer: Shai Halevi. This image was taken from the Leon Levy Dead Sea Scrolls Digital Library found at http://www.deadseascrolls.org.il. 173 11 Instruction-like Work (4Q424) 1 4b–10. Courtesy of the Israel Antiquities Authority; Photographer: Shai Halevi. This image was taken from the Leon Levy Dead Sea Scrolls Digital Library found at http://www.deadseascrolls .org.il. 175 12 Spacing of 4QDeutn (4Q41) I 1–8. Courtesy of the Israel Antiquities Authority; Photographer: Shai Halevi. This image was taken from the Leon Levy Dead Sea Scrolls Digital Library found at http://www.deadseascrolls.org.il. 176 13 Spacing of 4Q394 1 i–iii 1–11. Courtesy of the Israel Antiquities Authority; Photographer: Najib Anton Albina. This image was taken from Stephen J. Pfann and Emanuel Tov, eds., The Dead Sea Scrolls on Microfiche: A Comprehensive Facsimile Edition of the Texts from the Judean Desert (Leiden: Brill, 1993). 178 14 1QIsaa 15:20–30 (Isa 19:15b–22a). Courtesy of the Israel Museum, Jerusalem; Photographer: Ardon Bar-Hama. This image was taken from the Digital Dead Sea Scrolls project found at http://dss.collections.imj.org.il/. 179 15 Scribal mark “X” in 1QpHab 6:11–13. The images of 1QpHab are courtesy of the Israel Museum, Jerusalem; Photographer: Ardon Bar-Hama. This image was taken from the Digital Dead Sea Scrolls project found at http://dss.collections .imj.org.il/. For a facsimile of 1QpHab, see Millar Burrows, John C. Trever, and

Figures

xvii

William H. Brownlee, eds., The Dead Sea Scrolls of St. Mark’s Monastery, Volume 1: The Isaiah Manuscript and the Habakkuk Commentary (New Haven: American Schools of Oriental Research, 1950), plate LVII. 183 16 Absence of scribal mark “X” in 1QpHab 5:1–3 184 17 4QPsc (4Q85) I–III. Courtesy of the Israel Antiquities Authority; Photographer: Shai Halevi. This image was taken from the Leon Levy Dead Sea Scrolls Digital Library found at http://www.deadseascrolls.org.il. 236

Abbreviations The title abbreviations for journals, series, and other texts follow John Kutsko et al., eds., The SBL Handbook of Style, 2nd ed. (Atlanta: SBL Press, 1999). This table contains only those abbreviations that do not occur in this style guide. AFMM ARP ATD BH BibSal BMGS BPC BRS BZB CCJCW CDPS CI CJAn CJC CQS CREJ CSASE DBAM EBR EHLL Ekstasis ESC Gnomon ISem JAF JAJSup JEP KUSATU ML MnemSup

American Folk Music and Musicians Annual Review of Psychology Acta Theologica Danica Book History Bibliotheca Salmanticensis Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies Biblical Performance Criticism Berkeley Religious Studies Series Beiheft zum Zentralblatt für Bibliothekswesen Cambridge Commentaries on Writings of the Jewish and Christian World 200 BC to AD 200 Current Directions in Psychological Science Critical Inquiry Christianity and Judaism in Antiquity Canadian Journal of Communication Companion to the Qumran Scrolls Collection de la Revue des Études Juives Cambridge Studies in Anglo-Saxon England The Dictionary of the Bible and Ancient Media Encyclopedia of the Bible and Its Reception Encyclopedia of Hebrew Language and Linguistics Ekstasis: Religious Experience from Antiquity to the Middle Ages Emory Symposia in Cognition Gnomon: kritische Zeitschrift für die gesamte klassische Altertumswissenschaft Incontri e seminari The Journal of American Folklore Journal of Ancient Judaism Supplements Journal of Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition Kleine Untersuchungen zur Sprache des Alten Testaments und seiner Umwelt Music and Letters Mnemosyne: bibliotheca classica batava. Supplementum.

Abbreviations OPS OrTr PAPS PBA PSWRA QUCC SAJL SBLWAW SFQ SHCT SIFC STD STJHC TAPA TCSc THL TSCC ZPE

Oxford Psychology Series Oral Tradition Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society Proceedings of the British Academy Pericope: Scripture as Written and Read in Antiquity Quaderni Urbinati di Cultura Classica South African Journal of Linguistics Society of Biblical Literature: Wisdom Literature from the Ancient World Southern Folklore Quarterly Studies in the History of Christian Traditions Studi italiani di filologia classica Studi Testi Documenti Studies and Texts in Jewish History and Culture Transactions of the American Philological Association Trends in Cognitive Science Theory and History of Literature Textos y estudios del Seminario filológico Cardenal Cisneros Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik

xix

Introduction O that my words were written down! O that they were inscribed in a book! O that with an iron pen and with lead they were engraved on a rock forever! Job 19:23–24

∵ In a little-known 2009 magazine article entitled “Revelations from Qumran,” a freelance journalist writing mostly about science and technology posed an interesting analogy between biblical books in the Dead Sea Scrolls and digital media. “The ancient people who wrote and preserved the Dead Sea scrolls [sic],” according to Kurt Kleiner, “probably saw them the way we see Wikipedia—authoritative, but also fluid and constantly open to expansion and revision.”1 Kleiner’s provocative comparison, as it turns out, was based on an intriguing paper delivered at an academic conference held in conjunction with an exhibit at the Royal Ontario Museum. In this conference paper, Eva Mroczek compared the Dead Sea Scrolls with digital texts in order to challenge traditional conceptualizations of textuality and examine reading practices in antiquity.2 In Mroczek’s estimation, “our understanding of digital text—the way it is has forced us to reimagine textuality”—offers a sort of heuristic lens through which we can better view several facets of the Dead Sea Scrolls’ orality, textuality, and use in antiquity.3 Wikipedia is an illuminating metaphor for so-called biblical books in the Dead Sea Scrolls, particularly for understanding the multiformity of biblical 1  Kurt Kleiner, “Revelations from Qumran,” U of T Magazine 37 (Autumn, 2009): 19–20, http:// magazine.utoronto.ca/leading-edge/qumran-dead-sea-scrolls-revelations-eva-mroczek/. 2  This paper was subsequently edited into the following article: Eva Mroczek, “Thinking Digitally about the Dead Sea Scrolls: Book History Before and Beyond the Book,” BH 14 (2011): 241–69. 3  Mroczek, “Thinking Digitally,” 243. Concerning the difference between print communication and electronic communication of the Bible, see Robert M. Fowler, “Why Everything We Know about the Bible Is Wrong: Lessons from the Media History of the Bible,” in The Bible in Ancient and Modern Media: Story and Performance, ed. Holly E. Hearon and Philip Ruge-Jones, BPC 1 (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2009), 3–18, esp. 11–18. For a general discussion concerning the impact of digital texts on modern views of textuality, see Roger Chartier, “Languages, Books, and Reading from the Printed Word to the Digital Text,” CI 31 (2004): 133–52.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | doi:10.1163/9789004408203_002

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Introduction

media in the ancient Jewish world. As Mroczek has argued, the concept of the Bible as a “book” or, less anachronistically, as a collection of “books,” is actually a metaphor; “indeed, a root metaphor that provides the fundamental structure for our scholarly imagination.”4 In other words, the modern concept of “book” shapes our perception of the Hebrew Bible and the textual world of ancient Jews. More importantly, as Mroczek argues, “This metaphor’s descriptive power has been exhausted.”5 When we think of “book” in terms of a new metaphor such as digital texts, however, we must abandon our “bookish habits of organizing the written world.”6 With this in mind, how does the metaphor of digital texts improve our understanding of biblical books? In the ancient Jewish world, according to Mroczek, biblical “books” were like “databases” or “archives,” “multigenerational projects that enabled their own expansion and were not necessarily intended or received as original or complete.”7 As Emanuel Tov has correctly observed concerning the different editions of Jeremiah, “All these literary stages were equally original, or alternatively, none of these stages should be thought to constitute ‘the original text.’”8 Digital texts, like biblical texts in the Scrolls, defy consistent stemmatic categorization because they cannot always be genealogically traced to a single textual ancestor.9 There is no “original” text of Wikipedia, written or otherwise, 4  Eva Mroczek, The Literary Imagination in Jewish Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), 10. 5  Mroczek, Literary Imagination, 11. 6  Mroczek, Literary Imagination, 9. As book historians such as Roger Chartier have argued, the definition and categorization of written texts is historically contingent. See Roger Chartier, The Order of Books: Readers, Authors, and Libraries in Europe between the Fourteenth and Eighteenth Centuries, trans. Lydia G. Cochrane (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994), 1–23. The concept of book as a physical object that links text and author, according to Chartier, began with the invention of the codex in the early centuries of the Common Era and was finally realized with the invention of the printing press in the mid-fifteenth century (Chartier, “Languages, Books, and Reading,” 141). Generally speaking, Chartier is correct. As witnessed by Callimachus’s famous Pinakes, a work containing the bibliographic information of 120 books in the great Alexandrian Library, some bins of papyri in the royal library were probably organized according to topic, title, author, etc. See Roger Bagnall, “Alexandria: Library of Dreams,” PAPS 146 (2002): 348–62, esp. 354–56. 7  Mroczek, Literary Imagination, 13. 8  Emanuel Tov, “The Status of the Masoretic Text in Modern Text Editions of the Hebrew Bible: The Relevance of Canon,” in The Canon Debate, ed. Lee M. McDonald and James A. Sanders (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2002), 234–51, esp. 248. Tov ultimately opts for the former, whereas I prefer the latter. Tov’s earlier statement should be understood in the light of his more developed ideas of an “original text” (see below). 9  This observation is the basis for Tov’s category of “Non-Aligned Texts,” which (1) show no consistent closeness to and (2) contain significantly different readings from the Masoretic Text, the Samaritan Pentateuch, and the Septuagint. For a description of this category,

Introduction

3

no apex of a textual family tree. Instead, Wikipedia—like the Hebrew Bible in antiquity—constitutes a limitlessly updated, unbounded group of texts with scads of “original” editions that were each authorized by their users.10 In opposition to Ronald S. Hendel’s textual nostalgia, we therefore cannot “turn back the hands of time” in order to unearth a more “original” form of biblical texts (or Wikipedia webpages) buried underneath successive strata of textual plurality.11 We will never discover the “original” text obscured by the sands of time yet engraved with an iron pen in perpetuity. On account of the paucity of sophisticated inquiries into the textuality and oral-written setting of the Dead Sea Scrolls, I suspect my comparison with Wikipedia strains credibility for some Scrolls scholars. Past scholarship has often treated scrolls as texts frozen in written media, and this textcentered approach militates against the more dynamic metaphor of digital texts. Admittedly, much excellent work has been done on the oral background of the Hebrew Bible and the oral-written process of its textualization in ancient Israel.12 In addition, not long after the discovery of the Scrolls, scholars recognized that some variant readings (and even an entire edition) were “oral variations.”13 During the subsequent phases of Scrolls scholarship, too, scholars identified readings that were created by speech (i.e., phonetic similarities), memory (i.e., “misquotations”), and oral transmission (i.e., “synonymous readings”).14 see Emanuel Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 3rd ed. (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2012), 109. 10  Ulrich, for example, has identified at least two editions for as many as seventeen of the traditional twenty-four books of the Hebrew Bible. See Eugene Ulrich, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Origins of the Bible (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 17–120. Tov, as well, identifies two or more editions for at least twelve books or portions of books (Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 304, 310–22). For a concise summary, see James C. VanderKam and Peter W. Flint, The Meaning of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Their Significance for Understanding the Bible, Judaism, Jesus, and Christianity (New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 2002), 145. 11  Ronald S. Hendel, “The Oxford Hebrew Bible: Prologue to A New Critical Edition,” VT 58 (2008): 324–51, esp. 335. 12  For example, see the now-classic works of Susan Niditch, Oral World and Written Word: Ancient Israelite Literature (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1996); William M. Schniedewind, How the Bible Became a Book: The Textualization of Ancient Israel (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2004). 13  Harry M. Orlinsky, “Studies in the St. Mark’s Isaiah Scroll,” JBL 69 (1950): 149–66, esp. 157; Moshe Greenberg, “The Stabilization of the Text of the Hebrew Bible Reviewed in Light of the Biblical Manuscripts from the Judean Desert,” JAOS 76 (1956): 157–67, esp. 164. 14  Shemaryahu Talmon, “Synonymous Readings in the Textual Traditions of the Old Testament,” ScrHeir 8 (1961): 335–83; Edward L. Greenstein, “Misquotation of Scripture in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in The Frank Talmage Memorial Volume I, ed. Barry Walfish (Haifa:

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Introduction

Despite these studies, however, scholars have tended to emphasize the literary dimensions of the Dead Sea Scrolls, almost to the exclusion of questions concerning oral context.15 For instance, Hendel, the current editor in chief of the new Oxford Hebrew Bible project, maintains that written texts (of biblical books) must be aligned with other written texts (of biblical books).16 Consequentially, Hendel criticizes Tov’s classification of “Non-Aligned Texts” with the claim that “there is no such thing as a [biblical] text that is ‘not linked with any of the other groups of texts’ (Tov’s formulation).”17 But as Eugene Ulrich has correctly argued, “Individual variants arise spontaneously or influence other texts ad hoc, without regard to literary editions.”18 In other words, variant readings do not necessarily descend from earlier written texts. Indeed, as more recent text-critical studies have emphasized, text production and textual transmission were organic processes that included an interface between

Haifa University Press, 1993), 71–83; Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 233–34, 257–58. 15  For a discussion of this phenomena within biblical studies, see Susan Niditch, “Hebrew Bible and Oral Literature: Misconceptions and New Directions,” in The Interface of Orality and Writing: Speaking, Seeing, Writing in the Shaping of New Genres, ed. Annette Weissenrieder and Robert B. Coote, WUNT 260 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 3–18; Richard A. Horsley, Text and Tradition in Performance and Writing, BPC 9 (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2013), vii–xviii. 16  Ronald S. Hendel, “Assessing the Text-Critical Theories of the Hebrew Bible after Qumran,” in The Oxford Handbook of the Dead Sea Scrolls, ed. Timothy H. Lim and John J. Collins (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), 281–302. 17  Hendel, “Assessing the Text-Critical Theories,” 292. In this quote, Ronald S. Hendel cites Bruno Chiesa’s similar criticism of Tov’s category of non-aligned texts. See Bruno Chiesa, “Textual History and Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Old Testament,” in The Madrid Qumran Congress: Proceedings of the International Congress on the Dead Sea Scrolls, Madrid 18–21 March, 1991, ed. Julio Trebolle Barrera and Luis Vegas Montaner, 2 vols., STDJ 11 (Leiden: Brill, 1992), 1:257–72, esp. 265–68. According to Chiesa and Hendel, Tov’s category of an independent, unaffiliated text is fundamentally flawed because all biblical manuscripts descend from earlier biblical manuscripts. 18  Ulrich, Origins of the Bible, 104. Ulrich has in mind editions of biblical books (e.g., two editions of Jeremiah) rather than textual families (i.e., Pre-Samaritan, Proto-Masoretic, and Hebrew Vorlage of LXX); nevertheless, his assertion equally applies to the so-called “common errors” behind textual families. In addition, as Ulrich subsequently suggests, he also incorporates orality into his view of variants: “Scriptures … arose and evolved through a process of organic development…. It is well known that many parts of Scripture began as small, oral units and were told and retold, grouped into small collections of related material, and gradually written down. The oral and written forms were occasionally reformulated to meet the varied needs of the times and were handed down and repeated faithfully for generations” (Origins of the Bible, 108).

Introduction

5

orality, memory, and (written) texts.19 Some variants witnessed by the Dead Sea Scrolls were likely generated by reading practices, oral traditions, and scribal memories. 1

Textual Criticism

The metaphor of digital texts also stands in stark contrast with the search for “original texts” and “archetypes” (earliest inferable written texts) in postQumran textual criticism of the Hebrew Bible. As George J. Brooke has summarized, scholars have “commonly assume[d] that there was a great dividing moment, a time when a literary work ceases being composed or edited, but rather begins to be copied out.”20 And it is precisely at this “great dividing moment” that the so-called original text is born. In other words, an original text stands after composition but before transmission. According to Tov’s definition of an “original text,” for example, “At the end of the composition process of a biblical book stood a text that was finished at a literary level and subsequently was considered authoritative, even if only by a limited group of people.”21 Subsequently, Tov adds an important caveat: “The finished composition stood at the beginning of a process of copying and textual transmission.” Admittedly, Tov also affirms that “literary activity continued all the time until the 1st century CE.”22 But if literary activity continued, I wonder, how can we speak about an “end” to the process of composition? Or, for that matter, what exactly does Tov mean by “literary activity”? Because Tov subsequently describes “literary activity” as “compositional stages” of biblical books, Tov probably has in mind what Ulrich calls “variant editions” of biblical books.23 Tov correctly 19  David Andrew Teeter, Scribal Laws: Exegetical Variation in the Textual Transmission of Biblical Law in the Late Second Temple Period, FAT 92 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 7–33; David M. Carr, The Formation of the Hebrew Bible: A New Reconstruction (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 17–33. 20  George J. Brooke, “What is a Variant Edition? Perspectives from the Qumran Scrolls,” in In the Footsteps of Sherlock Holmes: Studies in the Biblical Text in Honour of Anneli Aejmelaeus, ed. Kristin De Troyer, T. Michael Law, and Marketta Liljeström, CBET 72 (Leuven: Peeters, 2014), 607–22, esp. 610. 21  Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 167. 22  Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 166. 23  Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 168. But cf. Brooke’s criticism of Ulrich’s terminology of “variant editions” and “variant literary editions” (“What is a Variant Edition? 607–8). As Ulrich’s criticism of an older version of Tov’s definition underscores, “There would normally have been, at any one time, not one but two or possibly more editions of many of the biblical books in circulation” (Origins of the Bible, 14; emphasis added). “And

6

Introduction

recognizes that in some cases, a biblical book undergoes multiple “compositional stages,” which each should be considered as a “type of original text.”24 “In these cases,” Tov admits, “the textual evidence does not point to a single ‘original’ text.”25 To be sure, many influential scholars have resisted or rejected the search for the original text.26 According to Ulrich, for example, “The purpose and function of textual criticism is to reconstruct the history of the texts that eventually became the biblical collection in both its literary growth and its scribal transmission; it is not just to judge individual variants in order to determine which were ‘superior’ or ‘original.’”27 Shemaryahu Talmon, the former editor in chief of the Hebrew University Bible Project, has offered the most developed text-critical theory of the Hebrew Bible that explicitly rejects the notion of an “original text.” Developing Paul Kahle’s theory of early parallel texts (a pre-Qumran textual theory), Talmon argues that biblical texts developed from pluriformity into unity, from multiple “pristine texts” into three socio-religious groups of texts.28

clearly,” Ulrich continues, “for some books two variant editions ‘stood at the beginning of a process of copying and textual transmission’” (Origins of the Bible, 14). 24  Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 167. If my reading of Tov is correct, then he essentially means an “archetype” by a “type of original text.” Moreover, at some point in time, each of these archetypes, according to Tov’s description of “original text(s),” would be finished “on a literary level” and enter a subsequent stage of “copying and textual transmission.” 25  Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 167. 26  This is also true within the field of New Testament textual criticism. For a brief discussion of advances in New Testament textual criticism that have caused some textual critics to abandon the search for an original text, see Werner H. Kelber, Imprints, Voiceprints, and Footprints of Memory: Collected Essays of Werner H. Kelber, RBS 74 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2013), 406–7. For an overview of advances in textual criticism of the Hebrew Bible that question the original text of biblical manuscripts in the Dead Sea Scrolls, see Kelber, Imprints, Voiceprints, and Footprints of Memory, 419–21. 27  Ulrich, Origins of the Bible, 114–15. As Ulrich correctly argues, “Because the text of each book was produced organically, in multiple layers, determining ‘the original text’ is a difficult, complex task; and arguably, it may not even be the correct goal. Historically, was there ever such a thing?” (Origins of the Bible, 16). For another critique of the notion of “original” text, see George J. Brooke, Reading the Dead Sea Scrolls: Essays in Method, EJL 39 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2013), 1–19, esp. 1–4, 7–9. 28  See Shemaryahu Talmon, “The Transmission History of the Text of the Hebrew Bible in the Light of Biblical Manuscripts from Qumran and Other Sites in the Judean Desert,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls Fifty Years after Their Discovery: Proceedings of the Jerusalem Congress, July 20–25, 1997, ed. Lawrence H. Schiffman, Emanuel Tov, and James C. VanderKam (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2000), 40–50.

Introduction

7

That being said, Talmon’s model of “pristine texts” has not received wide acceptance.29 “At present,” according to Tov’s negative estimation, “it is not supported by textual evidence.”30 “Even if one is unable to decide between two or more readings,” Tov contends that the possibility that one of them was nevertheless original and that the other(s) was (were) secondary cannot be rejected. One’s inability to decide between different readings [that appear equally “original”] should not be confused with the question of the original form of the biblical text.31 Likewise, Hendel argues that Talmon’s model turns a “methodological problem” into “a statement of essence or ontology.”32 I find the logic of Hendel’s and Tov’s criticisms inconsistent, however, especially in light of Tov’s views on multiple editions of a single biblical book.33 According to Tov, multiple editions reflect different “original texts” (plural).34 “In these cases,” as Tov correctly acknowledges, “the textual evidence does not point to a single ‘original text.’”35 Therefore, contrary to Tov’s assertion, multiple “original” readings can oppugn a concept of “the original form of the biblical text” (Tov’s words). With this in mind, Tov’s exclusion of certain types of variant readings (e.g., Talmon’s “synonymous readings”) from providing the same type of “textual evidence”

29  I should note, however, that Talmon’s model of textual criticism has been accepted and developed by some scholars. See, for instance, Stanley D. Walters, “Hannah and Anna: The Greek and Hebrew Texts of 1 Samuel 1,” JBL 107 (1988): 385–412. For a succinct overview of pre-Qumran and post-Qumran textual theories of the Hebrew Bible, see Emanuel Tov, “Textual Theories,” and Eugene Ulrich, “Post-Qumran Theories,” in Textual History of the Bible: The Hebrew Bible Volume 1A, ed. A. Lange and Emanuel Tov (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 7–10, 10–15. 30  Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 167. Ironically, the same can be said about Tov’s theory of original texts. As pointed out by Michael Owen Wise, no two biblical manuscripts from the Dead Sea Scrolls share an immediate prototype: “Of the scriptural scrolls found near Qumran, no two demonstrably share an immediate prototype; neither did any manuscript give rise to identifiable daughter copies” (Language and Literacy in Roman Judaea: A Study of the Bar Kokhba Documents [New Haven: Yale University Press, 2015], 32). 31  Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 164; cf. also Hendel, “A New Critical Edition,” 341; emphasis added. 32  Hendel, “A New Critical Edition,” 341. 33  Concerning Tov’s views of multiple editions, see above. 34  Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 167. 35  Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 167.

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Introduction

appears arbitrary. After all, what is a “variant edition” but a series of different readings of a book?36 Meanwhile, the antithetical presupposition of unity preceding plurality, which was also inherited from earlier generations of text-critics, continues to regularly exert influence on text-critical models. Almost forty years ago, for example, Frank Moore Cross claimed that “the sole way to improve a text, to ferret out error, is to trace the history of readings, to determine an archetype which explains or makes transparent the introduction of error or corruption.”37 In a similar but more recent vein, Hendel maintains that “all of our biblical manuscripts descend from earlier texts, including an ‘original text’ for each book or edition.”38 Although the theoretical “original” text is an indeterminable, impractical, and unfeasible goal, Hendel argues that it should remain an ideal, “a theoretical notation with which to inspire our empirical work.”39 Likewise, according to Tov’s most recent edition of his classic textbook, textual criticism “is the art of defining the problems and finding arguments for and against the originality of readings.”40 2

Media Criticism

At the heart of “thinking digitally” about the Scrolls lies the premise that ancient writing technology, such as a scroll or codex, is a form of media. The term “media” designates a specific medium or mode of communication, such as 36  As Brooke correctly points out in his criticism of Ulrich’s terminology of “variant editions” and “variant literary editions,” “Any and every edition of a verbal or musical composition will contain variants or variations; put simply, that is what an edition of a work is and to talk about ‘variant editions’ is a tautology” (“What is a Variant Edition?” 607–8). 37  Frank Moore Cross, “Problems of Method in the Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible,” in The Critical Study of Sacred Texts, ed. Wendy Doniger O’Flaherty, BRS 2 (Berkeley: Graduate Theological Union, 1979), 31–54, esp. 50. 38  Hendel, “Assessing the Text-Critical Theories,” 292. 39  Hendel, “A New Critical Edition,” 333. Hendel’s full quote merits repeating: “The OHB [Oxford Hebrew Bible] differs slightly from this statement [i.e., Tov’s definition of “original text”] by stressing that the ‘original text’ or ‘original editions’ that stood at the beginning of the transmission process constitute an ideal goal or limit, and focuses on the archetype as the more practical and feasible goal of textual criticism. The degree to which the details of the archetype are equal to the details of the ‘original text’ is, by definition, indeterminable, since a plausible approximation of the archetype is all that our evidence allows. The ‘original text’ is, in this respect, not entirely thinkable in text-critical terms, or perhaps better, it is a theoretical notation with which to inspire our empirical work” (“A New Critical Edition,” 333–34). 40  Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 280.

Introduction

9

spoken word, written texts, and electronic texts.41 In my opinion, the jargon “media” is useful when thinking about the Scrolls because it reveals what is at stake when we use the words “written text,” “scroll,” or “book.” In short, thinking about the Scrolls as “Dead Sea Media”—similar to “Wikipedia”—liberates scrolls from typographic captivity. Or, to borrow Mroczek’s ideas again, we could think of “media” as a new metaphor for understanding the Dead Sea Scrolls that helps us to see the Dead Sea Scrolls afresh, “apart from the entire history of the ‘book’ as we know it.”42 I have focused my introductory thoughts on textual criticism because it presents an excellent foil to the methodologies employed in Dead Sea Media. As I will illustrate below, the questions of interest and presuppositions of inquiry within media criticism are alien to some realms of biblical criticism. Historically speaking, the field of biblical criticism (of the Hebrew Bible) was bifurcated into two broad types of literary criticism. Seventy years ago, for instance, Ernest Coldwell lamented the “great gulf” between higher and lower criticism: If Biblical [sic] criticism is relatively sterile today, the sterility is partly due to the separation of lower criticism from higher criticism, particularly in the practices of university schools of religion. Between lower and higher criticism there is a great gulf fixed. Both lower criticism and higher criticism are impoverished by this separation, and the younger scholars of this generation working in either field constantly expose their limitations.43 Today, however, Coldwell’s lament would seem misplaced because the discoveries of the Judean desert have gradually dispelled the distinction between “higher” and “lower” criticism. According to Brooke, amongst others, “the active and creative involvement of scribes in the development of texts” blurs or dissolves the line between higher criticism and lower criticism.44 Thus, Tov’s 41  Rafael Rodríguez, Oral Tradition and the New Testament (London: Bloomsbury, 2014), 23. Similarly, Werner H. Kelber refers to media as mediums or “modalities of language.” See Werner H. Kelber, The Oral and Written Gospel: The Hermeneutics of Speaking and Writing in the Synoptic Tradition, Mark, Paul, and Q (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983), 21. 42  Mroczek, Literary Imagination, 9. 43  Ernest Coldwell, “Biblical Criticism: Lower and Higher,” JBL 67 (1948): 1–12, esp. 1. 44  Brooke, “What is a Variant Edition?” 612. See also Brooke, Reading the Dead Sea Scrolls, 1–5; Ulrich, “Post-Qumran Theories,” 12; Shemaryahu Talmon, “The Textual Study of the Bible—A New Outlook,” in Qumran and the History of the Biblical Text, ed. Frank Moore Cross and Shemaryahu Talmon (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1975), 321–400, esp. 381.

10

Introduction

most recent edition of Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible includes a new chapter on “textual and literary criticism,” which recognizes large-scale editorial changes made by scribes.45 Higher criticism (or historical criticism), according to past views, was a branch of literary criticism that investigated the origins of a biblical text, including the fields of source criticism, redaction criticism, form criticism, etc. The chief interest of higher criticism has therefore been the period of text production, when a biblical book was in a state of flux and the scribe supposedly had more authorial license to introduce major variation. But lower criticism (or textual criticism), as I outlined above, was a branch of literary criticism that identified and reconstructed as closely as possible the written text of biblical books or of editions of biblical books. Thus, the chief interest of lower criticism has been the subsequent period of textual transmission, when the text supposedly becomes more stabilized. During this period, according to past assumptions, the scribe transforms into a copyist who respects the authority of a theorized “original text” by introducing only minor variation.46 Media criticism, however, is neither a branch of literary criticism nor a type of higher criticism. Indeed, several hermeneutical presuppositions of media critics clearly challenge long-standing views within both higher and lower criticism. First, according to media critics, an original text never existed, either in the minds of ancient scribes or the halls of textual history. Instead, media critics approach ancient manuscripts more like new philologists, who consider variants meaningful in their own right (not just in how they “vary” from an ideal text).47 Second, no rigid dichotomy exists between “literary scribes” and 45  Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 283–326. I should note that despite the inclusion of this new chapter Tov continues to maintain the distinction between higher and lower criticism. As Ulrich has aptly summarized, “Tov maintains the traditional distinction between the period of literary growth of a book and that of its textual transmission as important, with textual criticism pertaining only to the latter” (“Post-Qumran Theories,” 12). 46  According to Hendel, for example, “The difference between these two phases [textual production and textual transmission] is a historical transition from major to minor textual intervention” (“A New Critical Edition,” 333). Admittedly, as Hendel notes, “New textual production [sometimes] occurs after the period of textual transmission has begun” (“A New Critical Edition,” 333). But, in this case, scribes become authors again as they create a new edition. In spite of editions, according to Hendel, composition and transmission therefore remain separate processes. 47  For an excellent summary of the field of new philology, see Hugo Lundhaug and Liv Ingeborg Lied, “Studying Snapshots: On Manuscript Culture, Textual Fluidity, and New Philology,” in Snapshots of Evolving Traditions: Jewish and Christian Manuscript Culture, Textual Fluidity, and New Philology, ed. Liv Ingeborg Lied and Hugo Lundhaug, TUGAL 175 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2017), 1–19. I should note, however, that the editors of the Hebrew

Introduction

11

“scribal copyists.” Throughout the entire process of transmission during the Second Temple period, scribes were innovators and performers, not mere copyists.48 Third, for media critics a scroll is more than a series of sheets sewn together for the purpose of being inscribed—that is, a scroll is more than a literary document. In the ancient Jewish milieu that produced the Scrolls, scrolls were mediums for writing, orality, and memory. Last, and perhaps most importantly, media criticism concerns “the analysis of the function and dynamics of various media of communication (speech, writing, ritual, etc.), and especially of the significance of shifts from one medium to another (e.g., from oral to written expression).”49 As correctly emphasized by Rafael Rodríguez, media critics are not only interested in the functions of discrete mediums— such as the written text of biblical books—but also the interfaces between them, the “mixing” of one media with another.50 3

Media Studies

Unlike media criticism, media studies is not a single academic discipline. Instead, media studies is more of a forum for several interrelated academic fields (such as comparative oral tradition, ethnopoetics, sociolinguistics, media criticism, and memory studies), which are joined together by their common interests.51 More specifically, as summarized by Raymond F. Person and Chris Keith, media studies for the most part has explored questions related to three

University Bible approach variants in a similar manner as new philologists because the critical apparatus presents a mass of raw data without making qualitative judgments. Concerning this theoretical aim of the Hebrew University Bible, see Moshe H. Goshen-Gottstein, The Book of Isaiah: Sample Edition with Introduction (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1965), 7, 11–12. 48  Raymond F. Person, “Text Criticism as a Lens for Understanding the Transmission of Ancient Texts in their Oral Environments,” in Contextualizing Israel’s Sacred Writings: Ancient Literacy, Orality, and Literary Production, ed. Brian B. Schmidt, SBLAIL 22 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2015), 197–215; idem, “The Ancient Israelite Scribe as Performer,” JBL 117 (1998): 603–8. 49  Rodríguez, Oral Tradition and the New Testament, 22. 50  Media critics, in the words of Rodríguez, “recognize the simultaneous presence of multiple communicative media, and avoid treating them as mutually exclusive phenomena (Oral Tradition and the New Testament, 23). The technical jargon in media criticism for this phenomenon is “media mix” or “intermediality.” 51  Raymond F. Person and Chris Keith, “Media Studies and Biblical Studies: An Introduction,” DBAM 1–15.

12

Introduction

interrelated research areas—namely, orality, writing, and memory.52 Because this book is a study of the Dead Sea Scrolls as ancient media, these three categories also naturally outline the three broad topics discussed in this book: (1) scrolls as an oral medium, (2) scrolls as a written medium, and (3) scrolls as a medium for memory. More importantly, as a media study of the Scrolls, Dead Sea Media also explores the interface between orality, writing, and memory rather than treating these three categories as discrete avenues of research.53 3.1 Comparative Study of Oral Tradition Because comparative oral tradition has undoubtedly exercised an influence on Dead Sea Media, I begin my outline of this book with a brief sketch of the field and a concise explanation of its relevance to the Dead Sea Scrolls. Many scholars would associate the birth of comparative oral tradition with the seminal and pioneering work of Milman Parry and Albert Lord.54 Parry and Lord applied theories derived from their study of contemporary oral epic poetry, particularly south Slavic epics, to several European epics that survived only as written texts (e.g., Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, Beowulf, etc.).55 Although their innovative approach was not widely accepted amongst classical scholars, it provided the theoretical framework for a comparative model of oral traditions.56 Over time, the Parry-Lord approach evolved into a separate field of knowledge—the comparative study of oral tradition—with a subject matter, history, and methodology uniquely its own. The Parry-Lord approach was soon applied to a wide array of texts from around the world, eventually even

52  In the words of Person and Keith, “Media study of the Bible tends to focus on three broad categories of research and the interfaces between them: orality/speech, writing/literacy, and memory” (“Media Studies and Biblical Studies,” 2). 53  For example, I do not exclude orality in my treatment of the Scrolls as written media. Quite the contrary; I argue for the existence of oral-written texts and oral-written textuality in Dead Sea Scrolls. Moreover, due to the interface between orality, writing, and memory, I often consider a single topic from multiple, complementary perspectives. For example, I discuss the concept of “scribal performance” to explain the oral-written textuality of scribal practices (Chapter 3). Later on, however, I discuss “scribal performance” in order to demonstrate that multiformity reflects scribal memory (Chapter 6). 54  For a brief overview of this field, see Werner H. Kelber, “Oral Tradition, the Comparative Study of,” DBAM 252–59, esp. 254–55. For a more detailed explanation, see John Miles Foley, The Theory of Oral Composition: History and Methodology (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1988), 36–65. 55  Kelber, “Oral Tradition,” 254–56. 56  R. Scott Garner, “Lord, Albert,” DBAM 212–13.

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13

filtering its way down into studies of oral tradition in the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament.57 Some scholars might also associate Hermann Gunkel with the birth of comparative oral tradition, particularly because of his contributions to the field of folklore studies in the early twentieth century. I should offer a word of caution, however, concerning the father of form criticism. Without a doubt, Gunkel and his students have advanced our knowledge of the oral origins and oral setting of biblical texts. But a fundamental difference between Gunkel and Parry-Lord exists in how their blossoming fields defined “oral” and “oral tradition.” Put bluntly, form criticism—similar to other types of higher criticism that emerged in the early- and mid-twentieth century—has often presupposed the so-called Great Divide between orality and literacy.58 The Great Divide, according Rafael Rodríguez’s succinct definition, refers to the “widely discredited assumption” that “oral and written media are fundamentally different and distinct.”59 Gunkel and his students, for example, identified certain literary forms that were shaped orally, not in writing, so that form criticism was used as a manner to trace distinctly oral (as opposed to written) patterns of communication.60 Moreover, as several scholars have sharply criticized, form-critical conceptions of oral tradition focused too narrowly on folkloristic modes of communication and neglected the role of memory in both oral tradition and oral forms.61 The comparative study of oral tradition, however, has repeatedly emphasized the interface between verbal communication and written texts. John Miles Foley’s 57  For the seminal example of the application of the Parry-Lord approach to the Hebrew Bible, see Niditch, Oral World and Written Word, 8–24, 108–30. 58  For a media-critical assessment of form criticism, see Kelber, Imprints, Voiceprints, and Footprints of Memory, 454–63. For a media-critical assessment of source criticism or redaction criticism, see Raymond F. Person and Robert Rezetko, “Introduction: The Importance of Empirical Models to Assess the Efficacy of Source and Redaction Criticism,” in Empirical Models Challenging Biblical Criticism, ed. Raymond F. Person and Robert Rezetko, AIL 25 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2016), 1–37, esp. 22–35. 59  Rafael Rodríguez, “Great Divide,” DBAM 163–64. 60  Samuel Byrskog, “Form Criticism,” DBAM 142–45, esp. 143. Form critics have often assumed (1) a linear transition from orality to writing and (2) a crude distinction between orality and literacy. See Walter J. Ong, foreword to The Oral and Written Gospel: The Hermeneutics of Speaking and Writing in the Synoptic Tradition, Mark, Paul, and Q, by Werner H. Kelber (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983), xiii–xiv; Werner H. Kelber, “The Oral-Scribal-Memorial Arts of Communication in Early Christianity,” in Jesus, the Voice, and the Text: Beyond the Oral and the Written Gospel, ed. Tom Thatcher (Waco: Baylor University Press, 2008), 235–62, esp. 243–46. 61  Byrskog, “Form Criticism,” 144; Alan Kirk and Tom Thatcher, “Jesus Tradition as Social Memory,” in Memory, Tradition, and Text: Uses of the Past in Early Christianity, ed. Alan Kirk and Tom Thatcher, SemeiaSt 52 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2005), 25–42, esp. 29–31.

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Introduction

taxonomy of oral tradition, for example, emphasizes how orality and literacy sometimes interact in complex, interdependent ways.62 Most broadly, the comparative study of oral tradition concerns the systematic definition, documentation, and comparison of the world’s oral tradition. Furthermore, by comparing oral tradition within and across different cultures and historical periods, studies in comparative oral tradition also seek to define the nature and characteristics of oral tradition. The comparative study of oral tradition is an indispensable tool for those interested in the oral world behind ancient texts because it provides a methodology for discerning the different ways in which “societies and individuals carry information, organize themselves, and make sense of their lives via oral communication.”63 Perhaps more importantly, it provides analogies to better understand the orality behind, and sometimes embedded within, ancient texts. In other words, the world’s oral tradition provides what Jonathan Z. Smith creatively describes as exempli gratia—an “arsenal of classic instances which are held to be exemplary.”64 They are exemplary in the sense that they can be used to extrapolate general (not universal) characteristics of oral tradition.65 These analogies are especially helpful for anyone interested in Christianity and Judaism in antiquity, since the oral communications of these ancient societies are obviously beyond our reach. The disparate corpora of texts within the field of comparative oral tradition may prompt some readers to question the appropriateness of comparative data. What does medieval, Old English poetry, for example, have to do with the Dead Sea Scrolls? Despite the admittedly anachronistic hermeneutic of a comparative approach, several commonalities suggest that some trans-cultural and trans-historical comparisons can improve our knowledge of the Scrolls. Linguistic anthropologists studying manuscripts from medieval England, 62  John Miles Foley, How to Read an Oral Poem (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2002), 38–53. For more on the topic of “oral traditional” or “oral-derived” texts, see §3.2 below. 63  Kelber, “Oral Tradition,” 252. 64  Jonathan Z. Smith, Imagining Religion: From Babylon to Jonestown (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1982), 113. 65  There are no universal characteristics of oral tradition. Instead, we can only speak of its main features or elements, as well as the inevitable exceptions to these general characteristics. In addition, I reject Walter J. Ong’s pitfall of “oral noetics,” which postulates nine characteristics that “set off orally based thought and expression from chirographically and typographically based thought and expression” (Orality and Literacy: The Technologizing of the Word [London: Routledge, 2002], 36–49, esp. 36). Although Ong’s groundbreaking description certainly advanced our knowledge of the differences between orality and literacy, his conceptualization of orality is problematic because it fails to adequately address the interface between oral and literate “thought and expression.”

Introduction

15

folklorists examining ancient Homeric epics, and ethnopoeticists working with modern Amerindian oral poetry face many of the same limitations as literary critics studying scrolls from the Judean Desert. Similar to Anglo-Saxon, ancient Greek, and Native American verbal art, the Dead Sea Scrolls survive mainly as written texts that do not systematically indicate aspects of oral performance.66 In short, aspects related to oral performance are usually left for readers to surmise.67 In addition, the manuscript culture reflected in ancient Greek papyri and medieval codices bears some striking similarities with the manuscript culture of the communities associated with the Dead Sea Scrolls. Sure, “manuscript culture” is not monolithic; nevertheless, as studies in the emerging field of new philology have correctly emphasized, “instability” and “variance” are fundamental characteristics of chirographically transmitted literature.68 Similarly, as I outlined at the outset of this introduction, Scrolls scholars have emphasized the enormous amount of textual pluriformity witnessed by the Dead Sea Scrolls. Likewise, from the perspective of orality studies, Anglo-Saxon, and ancient Greek poetry often displays multiformity and mouvance.69 Overall, a 66  Similar to Anglo-Saxon poetry, the majority of verbal art from antiquity often obscures oral modes of communication. As Kristina Dronsch has observed, “Texts written in scriptio continua make no distinction between the visual and aural aspects, a distinction which today enables us to differentiate between printed and oral media” (“Transmissions from Scripturality to Orality: Hearing the Voice of Jesus in Mark 4:1–34,” in The Interface of Orality and Writing: Speaking, Seeing, Writing in the Shaping of New Genres, ed. Annette Weissenrieder and Robert B. Coote, WUNT 260 [Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010], 119–29, esp. 121–22). See also John Miles Foley, “Word-Power, Performance, and Tradition,” JAF 105 (1992): 275–301, esp. 290–91. 67  As ethnographers of Amerindian oral poetry are wont to lament, most printed editions of Native American songs have often ignored oral/aural aspects of performance. The resulting printed transcriptions of oral performance—similar to ancient manuscripts written in scriptio continua—therefore do not record how oral poetry was actually spoken. According to Dell Hymes, “Much of the oral narrative of the world’s peoples is in such a situation. The primary documents have [poetic] line ends determined by edges of pieces of paper” (Now I Know Only So Far: Essays in Ethnopoetics [Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2003], 95–118, esp. 98). 68  New philology is beginning to make inroads into Dead Sea Scroll scholarship. For example, see Eva Mroczek, “The End of Psalms in the Dead Sea Scrolls, Greek Codices, and Syriac Manuscripts,” in Snapshots of Evolving Traditions: Jewish and Christian Manuscript Culture, Textual Fluidity, and New Philology, ed. Liv Ingeborg Lied and Hugo Lundhaug, TUGAL 175 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2017), 297–322. 69  Multiformity describes the “multiple forms” of traditional texts. According to the comparative study of oral tradition (and media studies), the active role of scribes and performers in the processes of composition, performance, and transmission naturally produces multiple, authentic forms of traditional texts (see §3.3 below). In addition, as first theorized

16

Introduction

variety of “works” in the diverse corpora of ancient Greek literature, Old English literature, and the Dead Sea Scrolls exhibit both multiformity of “texts” and mouvance of “artefacts.”70 Last, codices containing Anglo-Saxon poetry, papyri containing ancient Greek poetry, and the Dead Sea Scrolls exhibit oral-written textuality. Oral-written textuality denotes textual characteristics that are realized in spoken and written performance, composition or transmission. Scholars working with ancient Greek and Anglo-Saxon poetry have demonstrated that certain scribal practices represent the oral register of language.71 Spacing and other graphic cues, for example, provide what Katherine O’Brien O’Keeffe calls a “visible song,” a convenient reference point for recitation.72 Similarly, as I will demonstrate in Chapters 3 and 4, the ancient Jewish scribes who produced the Dead Sea Scrolls also used a variety of similar techniques, such as stichography, spatialization, and special codes, to incorporate the oral register of language into their written copies. Overall, despite their many salient differences, oral-traditional texts from around the world are not entirely different from the Scrolls. By focusing on areas of intersection, we can judiciously apply data, by Paul Zumthor, the multiformity of traditional texts results in “mouvance”—that is, an indeterminant manuscript tradition. See Paul Zumthor, Oral Poetry: An Introduction, trans. Kathryn Murphy-Judy, THL 70 (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1990), 196–209; John Dagenais, The Ethics of Reading in Manuscript Culture: Glossing the Libro de buen amor (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994), 17–20, 130. 70  Concerning the application of the term mouvance to Jewish literature, see Kelber, Imprints, Voiceprints, and Footprints of Memory, 421–23. My use of “text,” “artefact,” and “work” illustrates a crucial feature of what’s “new” in new philology. See M. J. Driscoll, “The Words on the Page: Thoughts on Philology, Old and New,” in Creating the Medieval Saga: Versions, Variability and Editorial Interpretations of Old Norse Saga Literature, ed. Judy Quinn and Emily Lethbridge (Odense: University Press of Southern Denmark, 2010), 87–104, esp. 93–95. “Work” is the theoretical the sum of a particular composition. “Text” denotes a particular series of words before the reader, as well as how these words are ordered, spelled, divided, spaced, and physically arranged on the page. “Artefact” (sometimes also called “document” or “manuscript”) denotes a specific text-bearing object that contains the text, such as a particular ancient manuscript. 71  A. N. Doane, “The Ethnography of Scribal Writing and Anglo-Saxon Poetry: Scribe as Performer,” OrTr 9 (1994): 420–36. According to A. N. Doane, the scribe of Old English poetic texts “has a status analogous to that of traditional performers of verbal art, but who as a part of his performance situation has the task of copying the oral register of utterance” (“Scribe as Performer,” 421). Concerning scribal performance of epic Greek poetry, see Jonathan L. Ready, “The Textualization of Homeric Epic by Means of Dictation,” TAPA 145 (2015): 1–75; idem, Orality, Textuality, and the Homeric Epics: An Interdisciplinary Study of Oral Texts, Dictated Texts, and Wild Texts (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019), 235–89. 72  Katherine O’Brien O’Keeffe, Visible Song: Transitional Literacy in Old English Verse, CSASE 4 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 1–22.

Introduction

17

analogies, and methodologies from the comparative study of oral tradition to illuminate the oral world behind the Dead Sea Scrolls. 3.2 Scrolls as an Oral Medium In the first two chapters, I examine the Dead Sea Scrolls as an oral medium, and I argue that the communities associated with the Scrolls were oral communities. Chapter 1 focuses narrowly on various descriptions of oral performance in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Chapter 2 examines several other aspects of orality in the communities associated with the Scrolls, such as oral tradition, oral transmission, and oral authority, through the wider interdisciplinary lens of comparative oral tradition. By “communities associated with the scrolls,” I do not simply mean the so-called Qumran community. On the one hand, a close examination of Rule Texts (e.g., the Community Rule and the Damascus Document) undermines the existence of a single community.73 Instead, compositions containing rules regulating daily life serve as evidence of a dynamic movement consisting of multiple communities at both Khirbet Qumran and outlying settlements with divergent practices, membership, and leadership.74 With this in mind, I also use the term “Yaḥad”—a self-designation found in sectarian texts—to describe these specific ancient Jewish communities.75 On 73  John J. Collins, Beyond the Qumran Community: The Sectarian Movement of the Dead Sea Scrolls (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 66–67; idem, “The Yaḥad and ‘the Qumran Community,’” in Biblical Traditions in Transmission: Essays in Honour of Michael A. Knibb, ed. Charlotte Hempel and Judith Lieu, JSJSup 111 (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 81–96. 74  In addition, differences between Rule Texts (e.g., the Community Rule and the Damascus Document) and between copies of the same Rule Text (e.g., Cave 1 and Cave 4 copies of the Community Rule) bear witness to a historical development of laws and structures within these communities. See Sarianna Metso, The Serekh Texts, CQS 9 (London: T&T Clark, 2007), 69–70; eadem, “The Relationship between the Damascus Document and the Community Rule,” in The Damascus Document: A Centennial of Discovery: Proceedings of the Third International Symposium of the Orion Center for the Study of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Associated Literature, 4–8 February, 1998, ed. Joseph M. Baumgarten, Esther G. Chazon, and Avital Pinnick, STDJ 34 (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 85–93. 75  Concerning the term “the Yaḥad,” see James H. Charlesworth, “Community Organization,” EDSS 1:133–36, esp. 134. The term “sectarian texts” denotes a modern heuristic category for certain texts in the Dead Sea Scrolls that scholars believe belonged to the sectarian communities that lived at Qumran and elsewhere. For a discussion of this term, see Carol A. Newsom, “‘Sectually Explicit’ Literature from Qumran,” in The Hebrew Bible and its Interpreters, ed. William Henry Propp, Baruch Halpern, and David Noel Freedman (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1990), 167–87. By the term “sectarian,” I have in mind a sociological understanding of sectarianism. According to Albert Baumgarten’s sociological definition, for example, a sect is as a “voluntary association of protest” against society (i.e., “the practice and belief of the rest of society”), which “utilizes boundary marking mechanisms” to distinguish between insiders (i.e., its own members) and outsiders (i.e.,

18

Introduction

the other hand, the majority of the Dead Sea Scrolls should be traced to the Judaism of the Second Temple period. Because the Dead Sea Scrolls are part of the broader body of Jewish literature of the Second Temple period, they also “embody ideas held by a larger circle of Jews, not ones unique to the people of Qumran.”76 The ostensibly nebulous phrase “communities associated with the Scrolls” therefore describes a variety of groups in the Judaism of the Second Temple period, not just the Yaḥad. For my purposes, “oral” and “orality” essentially denote a “spoken” quality. But orality’s coloring quickly blends in with its surroundings, altering its shades of meaning and camouflaging any unitary identity. Indeed, as Ruth Finnegan provocatively concludes in her famous essay on orality, orality is impossible to define as one thing or perhaps even as anything: “Orality is not anything: or at any rate not anything in the apparently unitary sense that the term seems to imply.”77 On account of this, some media critics avoid using the word orality altogether.78 In my opinion, however, the chameleonic nature of orality does not annihilate its meaning; rather, orality’s striking multivalency demands careful delineation of each specific sense. Throughout the course of this book, I therefore define each particular usage of orality as they naturally arise. Orality remains a helpful technical term to describe several ideas such as performance, text, transmission, and tradition. In these senses, as I argue in my treatment of the Scrolls as an oral medium, the communities associated with the Scrolls were “oral” communities—that is, oral performance, oral texts, oral tradition, and oral transmission played an integral role in the daily lives of all members and leaders of the sectarian movement. Before proceeding to detail my argument concerning “oral communities,” however, I should address the elephant in the room. How can a text be “oral”? An overly narrow definition of “text” creates an apparent contradiction between orality and texts. Sounds (by their very nature) may be “un-representable” in written texts, but texts can nonetheless be oral because not all texts comprise

“those otherwise normally regarded as belonging to the same national or religious identity”). See Albert Baumgarten, The Flourishing of Jewish Sects in the Maccabean Era: An Interpretation, JSJSup 55 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 6–7. For a brief critique of Baumgarten’s definition, as well as an overview of other sociological approaches to sectarianism and the Dead Sea Scrolls, see Jutta Jokiranta, “Sociological Approaches to Qumran Sectarianism,” in The Oxford Handbook of the Dead Sea Scrolls, ed. John J. Collins and Timothy H. Lim (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), 200–231, esp. 224–26. 76  VanderKam and Flint, The Meaning of the Dead Sea Scrolls, 210. 77  Ruth Finnegan, “What Is Orality—If Anything?” BMGS 14 (1990): 130–49, esp. 146. 78  Rodríguez, Oral Tradition and the New Testament, 7.

Introduction

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written words.79 Whether spoken or written, a text is a unit of speech that is designed to be stored and transmitted.80 This linguistic concept of textuality breaks the link between writing and text, and it expands “text” to include oral forms of communication. Even more importantly, written texts can be “intermedial”—that is, they are in some way related to, or derived from, oral communication.81 Outside of the digital texts, the modern world provides many interesting examples of media that challenge traditional conceptualizations of textuality. Audiobooks, for example, transmit written texts in a completely aural format or stenography records oral texts (spoken words) in a purely written format. These examples undermine a rigid dichotomy between orality and writing: texts can and do exist outside of writing, and texts can be both oral and written. Most importantly, both the definition of text and the intermediality of texts outlined above accurately coincide with textuality in the ancient world. Orality was a pervasive form of communication in ancient cultures, and written texts were orally communicated. “Even in those ancient societies in which reading and writing existed,” as Person and Keith argue, “written texts must be understood in relationship to the orality of the masses.”82 This is especially true for Judaism in antiquity because, as studies on literacy rates in Roman Palestine have estimated, probably less than ten percent of the total population could read.83 Consequentially, most ancient Jews probably did not 79  Kelber’s formulation of the problematic relationship between speech and texts is worth repeating. “Today the realization prevails,” according to Kelber, “that the notion of detachable speech is problematic because spoken words are sound, so that they are unrepresentable and therefore irretrievable in textual form. Nonetheless, a very large number of texts in the ancient world are examples of intermediality” (“Oral Tradition,” 253). 80  K. Ehlich, “Text und sprachliches Handeln: Die Entstehung von Texten aus dem Bedürfnis nach Überlieferung,” in Schrift und Gedächtnis: Beiträge zur Archäologie der literarischen Kommunikation, ed. Aleida Assmann, Jan Assmann, and Christof Hardmeier (Munich: Wilhelm Fink Verlag, 1983), 24–43, esp. 24–27; Jan Assmann, Religion and Cultural Memory: Ten Studies, trans. Rodney Livingstone (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2006), 101–5. 81  According to Kelber, “Intermediality designates written texts that are in some ways related to, or derived from, an oral or oral-scribal performance tradition and that were, therefore, partially or in toto in place prior to their present existence” (“Oral Tradition,” 253). 82  Person and Keith, “Media Studies and Biblical Studies,” 2. 83   Concerning literacy in Roman Palestine, see William V. Harris, Ancient Literacy (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1989), 272; Catherine Hezser, Jewish Literacy in Roman Palestine, TSAJ 81 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001), 34–36. Concerning reading practices and reading cultures in ancient Roman society, see William A. Johnson, Readers and Reading Culture in the High Roman Empire: A Study of Elite Communities (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), 3–16.

20

Introduction

experience the content of the Scrolls as written documents per se but by hearing them read aloud or recited from memory.84 Similar to how we experience audiobooks today, ancient Jews “read” the written text aurally through the oral performance of the reader. Overall, oral performance—the reading, recitation, or enactment of texts or traditions before an audience—was an integral component of social life. My consideration of the Scrolls as an oral medium therefore begins with a robust survey of oral performance in the communities associated with the Scrolls. In short, I argue that oral performance was interwoven into the fabric of each member’s daily existence, whenever and wherever they lived. I demonstrate the crucial role of oral performance through an examination of explicit descriptions of oral performance in undisputed sectarian literature from the Dead Sea Scrolls.85 In Chapter 1, I use these descriptions of oral performance to survey the content and functions of oral performance for both members and leaders in the sectarian movement associated with the Dead Sea Scrolls. In particular, I examine portrayals of the membership’s oral performance during various community meetings described in Rule Texts such as local chapter meetings (1QS 6:1b–7a), nightly study sessions (1QS 6:7b–8a), general membership meetings (1QS 6:8b–13a; CD 14:3b–12a), covenant renewal ceremonies (1QS 1:24–26; CD 20:27–30), admission procedures (1QS 5:7c–9a, 6:13b–23; CD 15:5b–10a), and a meeting of Israel in the last days (1QSa 1:1–6a). In addition, I outline the role of oral performance for leadership offices and leadership groups. An examination of the Scrolls as an oral medium, however, must extend beyond “oral performance,” because the terms “oral” and “orality” denote more than “realized in performance.”86 In addition to performance, “oral” also describes the processes of textual composition or textual transmission. Moreover, 84  Person and Keith, “Media Studies and Biblical Studies,” 2. In other words, texts were usually disseminated and transmitted orally. Concerning reading practices in the communities associated with the Scrolls, see Mladen Popović, “Reading, Writing, and Memorizing Together: Reading Culture in Ancient Judaism and the Dead Sea Scrolls in a Mediterranean Context,” DSD 24 (2017): 447–70, esp. 453–56. As Popović’s study of reading culture in ancient Judaism emphasizes, although reading alone or reading silently may have occurred in some cases, the sociolinguistic context of the Scrolls primarily points toward reading aloud in “deeply social contexts” (“Reading, Writing, and Memorizing Together,” 448). Concerning silent, individual reading in educational contexts, see André Lemaire, “Liré, écrire, étudier à Qoumrân et ailleurs,” in Qoumrân et le judaïsme du tournant de notre ère: Actes de la Table Ronde, Collège de France, 16 novembre 2004, ed. André Lemaire and Simon C. Mimouni, CREJ 40 (Louvain: Peeters, 2006), 63–79, esp. 66. 85  Concerning the definition of “sectarian literature,” see n.75 above. 86  Finnegan, “What Is Orality—if Anything?” 132–34.

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as I summarized above, the word “oral” denotes a wide range of other meanings related to both traditions and texts. On the one hand, “oral texts” denote the verbal content of an oral performance and “oral-traditional texts” designate works of verbal art that “either stem directly from or have roots in oral tradition.”87 On the other hand, “tradition” denotes a multivalent body of established thought, meaning, or interpretation.88 When this tradition is composed, performed, or received orally, we call this “oral tradition.”89 Each of these connotations is equally important when exploring the “oral communities” behind the Scrolls. In Chapter 2, I therefore begin by identifying four types of “oral-traditional texts” evidenced by the Dead Sea Scrolls. In the second section, I critique Lawrence H. Schiffman’s (and other scholars’) delineation of Oral Law, particularly as it relates to a complete rejection of oral tradition and oral authority.90 In contradistinction to Schiffman, I argue that written and oral traditions were authoritative, written and oral transmission were the norm, and exegesis was not an exclusively textual activity. In the third section, I discuss two bodies of authoritative tradition evidenced by the Scrolls—namely, “hidden things” and “mysteries.” More importantly, I suggest that the sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls witnessed the development of certain “oral-traditional texts”—namely, the “mystery of existence,” the “wonderful mysteries,” and the “ruling.” In the final section, I explore verbiage in the Scrolls that corroborates the existence and utilization of oral transmission in sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls. 3.3 Scrolls as a Written Medium In Chapters 3 and 4, I turn my attention to an examination of the Dead Sea Scrolls as a written medium, and I argue that the communities associated with the Scrolls are also textual communities. In order to do this, I consider a 87  John Miles Foley, Immanent Art: From Structure to Meaning in Traditional Oral Epic (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1991), xi. Concerning “oral texts,” see Rodríguez, Oral Tradition and the New Testament, 25. Concerning “oral-traditional texts” (also known as “oral derived texts”), see Foley, How to Read an Oral Poem, 38–53. Since some “oralderived texts” are not composed in writing, I prefer to use the synonymous jargon “oraltraditional texts.” 88  John Miles Foley, The Singer of Tales in Performance (Indiana: Indiana University Press, 1995), xii. See also Rodríguez, Oral Tradition and the New Testament, 30, 52. 89  Foley, How to Read an Oral Poem, 39. This definition is based on Foley’s fourfold typology of oral-traditional texts, which are distinguished from one another based on composition, performance, and reception (How to Read an Oral Poem, 38–53). 90  Lawrence H. Schiffman, Sectarian Law in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Courts, Testimony and the Penal Code, BJS 33 (Scholars Press, 1983), 16; idem, The Halakhah at Qumran, SJLA 16 (Leiden: Brill, 1975), 76, 134.

22

Introduction

different subgroup of texts in the Dead Sea Scrolls. My analysis in the first two chapters is chiefly based on Rule Texts, whereas these chapters will primarily examine “biblical” texts (for lack of a better term).91 In addition, I take a noticeably different hermeneutical approach to the Dead Sea Scrolls. My discussion of the Scrolls as an oral medium investigates the oral nature of the communities associated with the Scrolls through an exegesis of a number of passages that describe various facets of orality, such as tradition, performance, and transmission. My discussion of the Scrolls as a written medium, however, will primarily focus on scribal practices rather than textual interpretation. Despite the extremely low literacy rates in Roman Palestine, the general population of Christians and Jews still enjoyed a high degree of textuality. The majority of ancient Jews and Christians were thoroughly aware of writing and used written texts to define themselves.92 Brian Stock, a historian who focuses on literacy and reading practices in the Middle Ages, coined the term “textual communities” to describe a similar phenomenon within various religious reform movements during the medieval period of European history.93 These medieval movements are textual communities, according to Stock, because they form on the basis of shared reinterpretations of authoritative texts.94 As a consequence, Stock argues, textual communities depend not on literacy of the masses but on exegesis of elite teachers and scribes, who invoke their novel interpretation of texts to challenge societal values and collective memory.95 Stock’s model of “textual communities” has also become important for those interested in Christianity and Judaism in antiquity because, as pointed out by Tom Thatcher, “the society from which he drew his samples—Europe at the turn of the millennium—paralleled the media culture of ancient Israel and Late Second Temple Judaism in important respects.”96 The notion of “textual communities” has therefore been applied to ancient Christian and 91  The conclusions of my arguments in Chapters 3 and 4 therefore do not pertain exclusively to the sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls, as biblical texts also belong to the broader Judaism of the period. 92  For a discussion of textuality in the Greco-Roman world, see L. W. Hurtado, “Greco-Roman Textuality and the Gospel of Mark: A Critical Assessment of Werner H. Kelber’s The Oral and the Written Gospel,” BBR 7 (1997): 91–106, esp. 99–105. Concerning the widespread degree of textuality, as well as the spectrum of literacy in Christianity and Judaism in Roman Palestine, see Chris Keith, Jesus’ Literacy: Scribal Culture and the Teacher from Galilee, LNTS 413 (London: Bloomsbury, 2011), 85–110. 93  Brian Stock, The Implications of Literacy: Written Language and Models of Interpretation in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983), 88–106. 94  Stock, The Implications of Literacy, 90–99. 95  Stock, The Implications of Literacy, 90. 96  Tom Thatcher, “Textual Communities,” DBAM 417–18.

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Jewish groups, including the communities associated with the Scrolls.97 The sectarian movement associated with the Scrolls, similar to medieval reform movements, used authoritative texts to define their identity and justify their breach with tradition.98 In fact, as Carol A. Newsom has aptly described, “discerning and practicing the correct interpretation of Torah” was “the raison d’être for the entire community.”99 More importantly, like medieval reform movements, the membership’s communal identity and cultural memory was undoubtedly shaped by the leadership’s reinterpretation of authoritative texts.100 In the communities associated with the Scrolls, the Teacher of Righteousness and the Maskil, amongst others, fulfilled this need for a textual exegete par excellence.101 Stock’s theory of “textual communities” must be qualified with two important caveats, however, especially with regard to the communities associated with the Scrolls. As indicated by Stock, the “text” of textual communities “need not be written down nor the majority of auditors actually literate.”102 Each of Stock’s points merits elaboration. On the one hand, these textual communities did not just crystallize around the leadership’s reinterpretation of written texts. Oral communication, oral tradition, oral texts, and oral-traditional 97  Concerning the application of the term “textual communities” to ancient Jewish and Christian groups, see Tom Thatcher, “Literacy, Textual Communities, and Josephus’ Jewish War,” JSJ 29 (1998): 123–42, esp. 126–42; Kim Haines-Eitzen, “Textual Communities in Late Antique Christianity,” in A Companion to Late Antiquity, ed. Philip Rousseau (Oxford: Blackwell, 2009), 246–57. Concerning the application of “textual communities” to the communities associated with the Dead Sea Scrolls, see Popović, “Reading, Writing, and Memorizing Together,” 450–53; Charlotte Hempel, “Reflections on Literacy, Textuality, and Community in the Qumran Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Is There a Text in This Cave? Studies in the Textuality of the Dead Sea Scrolls in Honour of George J. Brooke, ed. Ariel Feldman, Maria Cioată, and Charlotte Hempel, STDJ 119 (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 69–82, esp. 75–79. 98  By “tradition,” I intend to convey both the “Great Tradition” and “little traditions.” The term “Great Tradition” denotes the total set of values that maintains the distinct identity of ancient Jewish society, whereas “little traditions” describe local variations within subgroups that modify, defy, or subvert these values. Concerning these sociological terms, see Tom Thatcher, “Great Tradition/Little Tradition,” DBAM 162–63. 99  Carol A. Newsom, “The Sage in the Literature of Qumran: The Functions of the Maskîl,” in The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, ed. John G. Gammie and Leo G. Perdue (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1990), 373–82, esp. 375. 100  Because philological and political competence are closely associated in textual communities, “leadership falls to the person who possesses the most comprehensive knowledge and the most illuminating interpretation of texts” (Assmann, Religion and Cultural Memory, 73). 101  Concerning the Teacher of Righteousness and the Maskil, see Chapter 1 §2.1 and Chapter 5 §4.1–§5.2. 102  Stock, Implications of Literacy, 32.

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Introduction

texts were, in many cases, just as crucial and authoritative.103 Some (1) oraltraditional texts and (2) oral interpretive traditions were not written, yet they were indispensable to communal identity. By “oral-traditional texts,” I mean unwritten bodies of knowledge, such as the “mystery of existence,” that relied on “continuing oral tradition passed on by ‘teachers’ within the group.”104 And by “oral interpretive traditions,” I intend to convey not only what Jonathan D. H. Norton calls the “sense contours” of texts—the exegetical ideas traditionally associated with specific passages of authoritative texts—but also the oral traditions about both the membership’s and the leadership’s common descent and fictionalized past that informed sectarian texts.105 On the other hand, we should expect an interplay between orality and textuality when assessing the literacy, education, and social practices of the communities with the Scrolls.106 Like the rest of ancient Jewish groups in the Greco-Roman world, the sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls were obviously not, to borrow Walter J. Ong’s terminology, cultures of “primary orality.” Primary orality describes the verbal communication within cultures that are “untouched by any knowledge of writing or print.”107 Nor were they, for lack of a better antithetical neologism, cultures of “primary literacy”— that is, untouched by any knowledge of orality. As pointed out by Charlotte Hempel, “A significant proportion of members of the sectarian movement,” like the majority of Jews in the Roman Palestine, “were probably illiterate and 103  The daily life of the community, for example, centered around the oral communication of leaders who managed affairs and adjudicated disputes by word of mouth (1QS 5:2, 9:3). During certain community meetings, such as general membership meetings (cf. 1QS 6:8b–13a), it was not a written text but the verbal content of oral performance— the oral text of the meeting—that immediately promulgated sectarian law and juridical decisions. For an in-depth discussion of oral authority, oral tradition, and oral-traditional texts, see Chapter 2. 104  John Kampen’s full statement is worth repeating: “Since the center of this group’s existence is around an unwritten body of knowledge known as the ‘mystery of existence,’ elements of which are explained within Instruction but which rely on a continuing oral tradition passed on by ‘teachers’ within the group, this is not public knowledge available to anyone. It is rather an exclusive body of knowledge available only to those who make a commitment to join this group, the first step in appropriating the knowledge of the mystery of existence” (Wisdom Literature [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011], 59). 105  Jonathan D. H. Norton, Contours of Text: Textual Variation in the Writings of Paul, Josephus and the Yaḥad, LNTS 430 (London: Bloomsbury, 2011), 52–53. 106  This interplay is most apparent in the nightly study session (1QS 6:7b–8a), where the Law and other authoritative texts were verbally performed, engaged, and deliberated. For an interpretation of the nightly study session contextualized within the oral and textual culture of the communities associated with the Scrolls, see Chapter 1 §1.2. 107  Ong, Orality and Literacy, 6, 10.

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experienced texts aurally.”108 Although the sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls could be accurately described as “textual communities,” they are best understood as neither oral nor textual communities but as oral-textual communities. That being said, Chapters 3 and 4 will primarily explore what the Dead Sea Scrolls reveal about oral-written textuality in the communities associated with the Scrolls rather than Second Temple Judaism. Several excellent studies have already treated the Dead Sea Scrolls as “a window,” to borrow David M. Carr’s metaphor, into early Jewish orality, literacy, and textuality (see below).109 The question remains, however, whether the Dead Sea Scrolls provide an accurate cross section of ancient Jewish literary culture. Scholars have answered both affirmatively and negatively. In Michael Owen Wise’s study of ancient Jewish literacy, for example, the Dead Sea Scrolls are treated as a touchstone of Jewish literacy (and literary production).110 The Dead Sea Scrolls, in his words, “were but the tip of a literary iceberg.”111 In Catherine Hezser’s equally insightful study, however, she argues that the Dead Sea Scrolls do not reflect broader patterns of literacy (and literary production). According to Hezser, for example, “The practice of literary composition and writing amongst the Qumran group cannot be considered representative of contemporary Palestinian Judaism as a whole.”112 Overall, I agree with Wise’s model of Jewish literacy and with his criticisms of Hezser’s reconstruction, but Wise’s arguments are not without

108  As Hempel has recently argued, “a significant proportion” of “the ‘textual community’ responsible for the literary riches unearthed at and near Qumran” was “illiterate or semiliterate” (“Reflections on Literacy, Textuality, and Community,” 81–82). 109  David M. Carr, Writing on the Tablet of the Heart: Origins of Scripture and Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 215. 110  Wise, Language and Literacy in Roman Judaea, 31–33. 111  Wise, Language and Literacy in Roman Judaea, 32. Similarly, Carr asserts that the writing exercises found in the Dead Sea Scrolls represent “the tip of an iceberg of a broader educational process” (Writing on the Tablet of the Heart, 221). 112  Hezser, Jewish Literacy in Roman Palestine, 426. Interestingly, she contradicts this claim elsewhere. “Except for the Qumran community, perhaps, there is no evidence of a mass production of biblical manuscripts amongst ancient Jews, and even the evidence from Qumran is doubtful in this regard. In contrast to the sectarian writings, the numerous fragments of biblical and other texts found at Qumran seem to have been written by many different scribes, who did not belong to a particular scribal school which might have lived at the site” (Jewish Literacy in Roman Palestine, 126). If numerous biblical (and other) texts in the Dead Sea Scrolls were written by ancient Jewish scribes who did not belong to the sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls, it stands to reason that these texts are to some extent representative of the broader Judaism of the period.

26

Introduction

problems.113 For example, he erroneously privileges writing over orality.114 In any case, my analysis in Chapters 3 and 4 seeks to demonstrate a different point, a preliminary point. Before we use the Dead Sea Scrolls as window into Judaism of the Second Temple period, we should first ascertain what that window looks like. What do the Dead Sea Scrolls themselves reveal about orality and textuality? Nor am I chiefly interested in how a better understanding of orality in the Greco-Roman world can improve our understanding of oral-written textuality in the communities associated with the Scrolls. Several scholars have already explored the oral-written setting of the Yaḥad’s reading practices, educational practices, and scribal practices in the ancient Mediterranean and GrecoRoman world.115 This is not the place for full discussion, but a selection of three foundational studies may be briefly noted. According to Susan Niditch’s study, Oral World and Written Word, the “oral culture [of the biblical world] frames the writing” of biblical texts so that an ancient scribe was not simply a copyist but also a “sort of performer.”116 Thus, Niditch emphasizes that the multiformity of biblical texts in the Dead Sea Scrolls reflect “the qualities of an oral

113  For Wise’s counterarguments to Hezser’s model of literacy, see Wise, Language and Literacy in Roman Judaea, 26–36. In a nutshell, Wise argues that Hezser ignores evidence from the Jewish literature of the Second Temple period and relies too heavily on descriptions in later Rabbinic literature. 114  According to Wise, for example, “As far as many of them [i.e., ancient Judeans] were concerned, the written text was distinct from that which the mind held, and it was paramount” (Language and Literacy in Roman Judaea, 353; emphasis original). “Mere oral recitation,” Wise continues, “would not suffice. The book had to read, not merely said” (Language and Literacy in Roman Judaea, 354; emphasis original). In light of his explicit rejection of the Great Divide, I find these statements puzzling. Immediately before making these assertions, for example, Wise correctly affirms that “in Judaea the books of scripture, particularly Moses and the Prophets, were the scrolls commonly encountered by villagers. Some could read them; everyone could hear them; and anyone could remember what they said. Thus the distinction between orality and literacy begins to lose focus when we come to books. In this world orality and literacy met at literary performance, and afterward, bound by memory, walked together” (Language and Literacy in Roman Judaea, 353). If orality and literacy were bound together by memory, I wonder, then how can Wise claim that a written text was distinct (or paramount) from a spoken text? 115   Concerning reading practices and literacy, see Popović, “Reading, Writing, and Memorizing Together,” 447–70; Wise, Language and Literacy in Roman Judaea, 279–356; Norton, Contours of Text, 82–120. Concerning educational practices, see Martin S. Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth: Writing and Oral Tradition in Palestinian Judaism, 200 BCE–400 CE (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 15–38; Carr, Writing on the Tablet of the Heart, 215–39. 116  Niditch, Oral World and Written Word, 74–75.

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register” of language.117 Similarly, according to Martin S. Jaffee’s book, Torah in the Mouth, the Dead Sea Scrolls should be viewed within the ancient Jewish social setting of oral/aural literacy. “The characteristic organs of the literary life [in Second Temple Judaism],” according to Jaffee, “were the mouth and the ear.”118 The Dead Sea Scrolls were therefore affected by what Jaffee calls “scribal orality.”119 The line between author and copyist “was a rather blurry one,” and scribes drew heavily upon “habits of speech,” “rhetorical traditions,” and “oral communication.”120 Finally, Carr’s comparative study, Writing on the Tablet of the Heart, emphasizes the interface between orality and literacy in both ancient Greek and ancient Jewish education.121 In the communities associated with the Scrolls, written texts, such as sapiential texts and Torah scrolls, were studied in an oral-written environment, which included reading, memorization, and recitation.122 As a consequence, some Torah scrolls were designed for use within “oral-written educational and liturgical environments”;123 moreover, some scrolls were “supplemented with memorized material from other loci.”124 With the contributions of these foundational studies in mind, my discussion of the Scrolls as a written medium examines several scribal practices reflected in the Scrolls in order to demonstrate three broad, interrelated points. First, and most fundamental, I establish that the Dead Sea Scrolls exhibit oralwritten textuality. Although the Scrolls are written media, they exhibit textual characteristics that are realized in speech and writing. Second, the background of textual features and scribal practices should not be exclusively linked with written texts and writing practices. Some textual features and scribal practices were also generated by oral performance and reading practices. Third, the 117  Niditch, Oral World and Written Word, 75. 118  Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth, 18. In other words, as Jaffee subsequently states, scrolls were usually “delivered orally and received aurally” (Torah in the Mouth, 18). 119  Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth, 15–20. 120  Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth, 18. 121  Carr, Writing on the Tablet of the Heart, 220–39. 122  Carr, Writing on the Tablet of the Heart, 230–31. Carr gives special prominence sapiential literature in the education curriculum of the communities associated with the Scrolls (Writing on the Tablet of the Heart, 220–34). According to Carr, the large corpus of wisdom texts in the Dead Sea Scrolls is “a key indicator of the prominence of education at Qumran” (Writing on the Tablet of the Heart, 222). In addition, Carr argues for the “oralwritten instructional use of other texts at Qumran, the Torah first and foremost but also other books both within and outside of the (present) Hebrew Bible” (Writing on the Tablet of the Heart, 215). 123  Carr, Writing on the Tablet of the Heart, 231. 124  Carr, Writing on the Tablet of the Heart, 230.

28

Introduction

scribes who produced the Scrolls were not only concerned with reproducing the (written) text of compositions, but they were also performers who incorporated the oral register of language into their written copies.125 An oral register is a linguistic repertoire associated with spoken communication.126 In Chapter 3, I begin with a consideration of the most salient illustration of the oral-written textuality in the Scrolls—namely, stichography. Unlike the majority of scrolls written in continuous script, stichographic texts are divided into lines of verse (hemistich, colon, or line) through the strategic placement of vacats (spaces) and margins between poetic units. This scribal practice offers a paradigmatic example of oral-written textuality of the Scrolls because the spacing of stichographic texts represents both literary parallelism and oral performance. In the first half of Chapter 3, I explain the functions of stichography from the perspective of written textuality. Stichography visually structures a text according to poetry’s basic building blocks and graphically represents a scribal interpretation of parallelism and poetic structure. In the second half of Chapter 3, I examine the oral setting of stichography and, more broadly, spacing techniques. From this vantage point, stichography graphically displays a scribal understanding of the manner in which compositions should be read, and stichographic texts provide a convenient reference point for recitation. Beyond mere copyists, scribes were performers who incorporated their understanding of the oral register of language into written copies. I conclude by examining some overall characteristics of the stichographic corpus that suggest stichographic texts were orally performed, and I propose possible settings for their use within the communities associated with the Scrolls. In Chapter 4, I turn my attention to three additional scribal practices that evidence the oral-written register of scribal practices: special layouts, spacing techniques, and special codes. These scribal practices—similar to stichography—derive from the interface between orality and literacy in the communities associated with the Scrolls. I open my discussion with a comparison of “special layouts” in the Scrolls and “prescribed layouts” in later texts, 125  Shem Miller, “A Scribe Speaks: The Oral Register of Scribal Practices as Reflected in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” KUSATU 22 (2017): 75–100. 126  This oral register can occur in both spoken and written discourse, for it does not refer to the mode of composition, but to its style. Concerning this definition of “oral register,” see Niditch, Oral World and Written Word, 10; M. A. K. Halliday, Language as a Social Semiotic: The Social Interpretation of Language and Meaning (London: University Park Press, 1978), 111; Dell Hymes, “Ways of Speaking,” in Explorations in the Ethnography of Speaking, ed. Richard Bauman and Joel Sherzer (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 433–75, esp. 440; Asif Agha, “Register,” in Key Terms in Language and Culture, ed. Alessandro Duranti (Oxford: Blackwell, 2001), 212–15.

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such as the Masoretic Text and Samaritan Pentateuch. Both special layouts and prescribed layouts of the Song of the Sea and the Song of Moses are lucid examples of oral-written textuality because they exhibit textual characteristics that are realized in spoken performance and in written texts. In these cases, scribes acknowledged their readership’s experience with both textual format and oral performance. In the heart of this chapter, I survey various spacing techniques in the Scrolls that reflect the oral register of language. Spacing, similar to stichography, does not merely indicate literary structure; rather, it represents specific ways of reading texts and inscribes cues to facilitate reading (performance) and interpretation (pedagogy). I conclude with an explanation of three special codes that identify or invoke some aspect of oral performance. Scribal markings, cryptic scripts, and divine codenames are special codes because they signal proper oral performance and mirror how texts were actually read. Overall, special layouts, spacing techniques, and special codes illuminate the oral-written world of scribal practices and demonstrate that scribes incorporated oral register of language into their written copies. 3.4 Scrolls as a Medium for Memory In the final two chapters, I consider the Dead Sea Scrolls as medium for memory, both cultural and scribal. By describing the Scrolls as a medium for memory, I do not intend to convey that memory is a medium. According to media studies, mediums designate different modalities of language.127 Thus, in my view, a scroll is not a “medium of memory” but a “medium for memory.” In this sense, the Dead Sea Scrolls can be understood as a means by which memory was stored, constructed, and communicated. In the past, memory studies has been an underappreciated avenue of research because memory was often associated with orality (as opposed to written texts). Scholarship over the past decade, however, has begun to integrate theories of memory into our understanding of scribal practices reflected in the Scrolls, the textuality of the Scrolls, and the social practices of the communities associated with the Scrolls.128 As correctly argued by Mladen Popović, the Dead Sea Scrolls emerged from a world in which reading, writing, and memory were interlinked with one

127  Kelber, Oral and Written Gospel, 21; Rodríguez, Oral Tradition and the New Testament, 23. 128  Richard A. Horsley, Scribes, Visionaries, and the Politics of Second Temple Judea (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2007), 101–4; David M. Carr, “Orality, Textuality, and Memory: The State of Biblical Studies,” in Contextualizing Israel’s Sacred Writings: Ancient Literacy, Orality, and Literary Production, ed. Brian B. Schmidt, SBLAIL 22 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2015), 161–73, esp. 169; Teeter, Scribal Laws, 7–33, esp. 18–19.

30

Introduction

another.129 With this interface in mind, I set out to demonstrate two broad points in Chapters 5 and 6. In Chapter 5, I argue that remembering, reading, and texts were interlinked in the oral-textual communities associated with the Scrolls. In particular, scrolls were mediums for cultural memory, and the communities associated with the Scrolls were communities of “remembrance through performance”—that is, they constructed their identity through oral performance of cultural texts.130 In Chapter 6, I argue that memorization, reading, and texts were interlinked in the oral-textual communities associated with the Scrolls. The Dead Sea Scrolls were mediums for scribal memory, and they functioned as reference points for performance, memorization, and recall. In particular, they stored the long- and short-term memories of scribes about how texts were understood and read in antiquity. Because of the broad and interdisciplinary nature of memory studies, I should briefly clarify what I am not discussing in these final chapters. Neuroscientists have written numerous books explaining the nexus between neurology and identity.131 As these studies demonstrate, our identities—our notions of “self”—can be rightly understood as the creation of synaptic transmission between neurons in the brain.132 In Chapter 5, however, I approach memory’s role in identity formation from the perspective of cultural memory and cultural texts. Cultural memory, according to Jan Assmann, is that part of an individual’s memory that is “socially and culturally determined.”133 As memory studies and performance studies have shown, one function of oral performance—particularly the performance of cultural texts—is the construction and transmission of cultural memory. Cultural texts, according to Assmann’s memory studies, have both normative and formative functions within societies. Normative cultural texts “codify the norms of behavior,”

129  According to Popović, “reading, writing, and memorizing” were “interwoven practices occurring in group related events” in the “scrolls’ textual community” (“Reading, Writing, and Memorizing Together,” 447, 458). In addition, “writing and memorizing were not mutually exclusive in terms of oral versus written culture” (“Reading, Writing, and Memorizing Together,” 463). 130  For a discussion of “remembrance through performance,” see Chapter 5 §3. Concerning cultural memory and the Dead Sea Scrolls, see Brooke, Reading the Dead Sea Scrolls, 51–66. 131  For an overview of this field, see Joseph LeDoux, Synaptic Self: How Our Brains Become Who We Are (New York: Penguin, 2002), 1 n.1. 132  LeDoux, Synaptic Self, 1–32. 133  Assmann, Religion and Cultural Memory, 8.

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whereas formative cultural texts “formulate the self-image of the group” and “transmit identity-confirming knowledge by narrating stories that are shared.”134 Similarly, many studies written by psychologists have explained the processes of remembering and forgetting from a psychological and cognitive perspective.135 These studies have built a framework containing an array of different types of memories, such as long-term memory, short-term memory, episodic memory, working memory, semantic memory, etc.136 In Chapter 6, I do not intend to propose a novel psychological classification or framework of memory; rather, I integrate these existing categories with the concept of “scribal memory” to explain the multiformity of scribal practices and variant readings. In other words, I propose that these different types of scribal memory illuminate (1) varied execution of specific scribal practices and (2) variations between multiple copies of a single text. Within the field of media studies, the term “scribal memory” refers “narrowly to the knowledge of traditional texts held in the collective memory of scribes and, more broadly, to the impact of such knowledge on the biblical writings and their manuscript traditions.”137 Although the role of scribal memory in the formation and transmission of texts has received sparse attention, the Dead Sea Scrolls emerged from a world in which scribal memory was active “in every form and at every stage of transmission.”138 In the ancient Jewish world, as correctly argued by Carr, texts existed dually—that is, (1) in the longterm memory of scribes, teachers, and other professionals and (2) in written manuscripts, which provided a “reference point” for recitation or copying.139 134  Jan Assmann, “Form as a Mnemonic Device: Cultural Texts and Cultural Memory,” in Performing the Gospel: Orality, Memory, and Mark, ed. Richard A. Horsley, Jonathan A. Draper, and John Miles Foley (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2006), 67–83, esp. 76; idem, Religion and Cultural Memory, 38. 135  For a clear and engaging introduction to the processes of remembering and forgetting from a psychological perspective, see Daniel L. Schacter, The Seven Sins of Memory: How the Mind Forget and Remembers (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2001), 1–11, 184–206. 136  For a concise explanation of these six types of memory, see Marti J. Steussy, “Long-Term/ Short-Term Memory,” DBAM 210–12. 137  Raymond F. Person, “Scribal Memory,” DBAM 352–55, esp. 352. 138  Person, “Scribal Memory,” 354. Concerning the interface between orality, textuality, and memory in the ancient world, see Carr, Writing on the Tablet of the Heart, 3–14. As pointed out by Carr, scribal memory has received little attention in past text-critical studies of the Scrolls because scribal memory has often been associated with oral performance rather than written texts (The Formation of the Hebrew Bible, 5). 139  Carr, Writing on the Tablet of the Heart, 160. See also Alan Kirk, “Manuscript Tradition as A Tertium Quid: Orality and Memory in Scribal Practices,” in Jesus, the Voice, and the Text: Beyond the Oral and Written Gospel, ed. Tom Thatcher (Waco: Baylor University Press, 2008), 215–34, esp. 219.

32

Introduction

Furthermore, scribes in antiquity did not simply copy texts, mechanically duplicating them like automatons. Indeed, scribes are more like performers than bots—autonomous programs (on the Internet) designed to flawlessly repeat specific tasks—because they integrate their personal memory of both the spoken word and the written text.140 Throughout Dead Sea Media, the hermeneutical implications of my analysis remain for the most part peripheral to my overarching points. Chapter 5, however, contains an exception to this general tendency, a test case exploring the ways in which orality studies and memory studies can improve our understanding of the ancient meanings and the social uses of the Dead Sea Scrolls. In particular, I offer a performance criticism of select passages from the Hodayot, an anthology of poetic thanksgiving hymns. Performance criticism is a particularly helpful theoretical framework to explore orality, as it approaches ancient texts as witnesses to oral performances.141 Performance critics concentrate on how orality and performance affect the meaning of texts and impact a text’s audience.142 In addition, performance criticism is a helpful theoretical framework to explore memory and identity formation, as performance critics are typically attuned to the theory of cultural memory. In Chapter 5, I argue that the hymns in the Hodayot are paradigmatic examples of formative cultural texts that were orally performed and remembered by the sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls.143After surveying the 140  In the words of Doane, scribes have “a status analogous to performers of traditional verbal art” (“Scribe as Performer,” 421). See also Person, “The Ancient Israelite Scribe as Performer,” 603–8; idem, “Text Criticism as a Lens,” 197–215. 141  For a detailed explanation of performance criticism, see David Rhoads, “The Art of Translating for Oral Performance” in The Bible in Ancient and Modern Media: Story and Performance, ed. Holly E. Hearon and Philip Ruge-Jones, BPC 1 (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2009), 22–47, esp. 26–34; Horsley, Text and Tradition, 18–30. 142  David Rhoads, “Performance Criticism (Biblical),” DBAM 281–89, esp. 281; William Doan and Terry Giles, Prophets, Performance, and Power: Performance Criticism of the Hebrew Bible (London: T&T Clark, 2005), 85–88, 91–103. 143  Eliezer L. Sukenik, the editor of the editio princeps, argued the Hodayot were a product of the “Dead Sea Sect,” and this hypothesis has not been significantly challenged in subsequent scholarship (The Dead Sea Scrolls of the Hebrew University [Jerusalem: Magnes, 1955], 39). During the initial phase of the Hodayot’s publication, multiple theories emerged proposing various liturgical uses within the community such as nightly study sessions, public worship, initiation and covenant ceremonies, and community meals. See M. Delcor, “Qumran. Les Hymnes,” DBSup 51:861–904, esp. 897–900; Svend Holm-Nielsen, Hodayot: Psalms from Qumran, ATD 2 (Aarhus: Universitetsforlaget, 1960), 344–45; Bo Reicke, “Remarques sur l’histoire de la forme (Formgeschichte) des textes de Qumran,” in Les manuscrits de la Mer Morte. Colloque de Strasbourg, 25–27 mai 1955, ed. J. Daniélou et al. (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1957), 37–44, esp. 41–44.

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data that establish communal oral performance as a probable sociolinguistic setting for the Hodayot, my performance criticism argues that these hymns embodied the sectarian movement’s cultural memory of membership and leadership. The membership’s oral performance of these hymns functioned to produce collective identity, transform personal identity, and socialize members through narration of shared stories. In addition, the leadership utilized oral performance of the Hodayot (1) to self-identify with the pedagogical leadership and special knowledge of the Maskil’s performance role and (2) to appropriate the institutional authority of his office. Finally, I explain how the authors of the Hodayot drew on the sectarian movement’s cultural memory to associate the Maskil’s office with founding figures of the sect. Through performance of the Hodayot, any qualified leader could co-opt two distinctive features of the sect’s cultural memory of its founder(s): oral-written performance and “a ready answer.” Whether it be on purpose or by accident, scribal memory often generated, reproduced, and transmitted multiformity. Albert Lord, who coined this term, describes multiformity as the variation of oral traditions, but it has subsequently been applied to explain variations between different copies of written texts, especially written texts that were orally performed or written texts that incorporate oral tradition.144 Lord observed that singers create divergent performances of an oral tradition, yet they consider each performance to represent the same oral tradition.145 The ostensible paradox of inexact replicas is a result of transposing the fixity of modern print into ancient texts and traditions. Consequentially, Lord preferred “multiformity” to “variants.” Whereas multiformity distances one from a text-based understanding of oral traditions, variants cast divergent oral traditions and textual variants as alterations of an ideal text. Compared with variants, the concept of multiformity therefore provides a more helpful lens through which we can view scribal memory at work in the Scrolls. Media critics use “multiformity” to describe the multiple authentic forms of texts, whether they be oral or written (or oral-written). By way of contrast, textual critics have often used “variants” to describe textual plurality. Speaking about variant readings, for example, Hendel maintains that

144  Albert Lord, The Singer of Tales, ed. Stephen Mitchell and Gregory Nagy, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2000), 99–102. 145  These recreations are possible, according to Lord, because each performance only presents a portion of the full tradition, and oral traditions exist in several authentic forms (The Singer of Tales, 100–101, 120–23).

34

Introduction

there are certainly cases—in oral epic, for example—where the idea of an “original” from which all subsequent versions derive is untenable. One cannot construct an archetype of all the oral performances of the epic of “The Song of Baghdad” in Serbo-Croatian epic tradition. But biblical texts, which are literary productions, are amenable to such historical and stemmatic analysis, at least in theory.146 According to Hendel, the concept of multiformity does not apply to biblical texts because they are “literary productions,” as if the oral dynamics that produced multiformity in “The Song of Baghdad” somehow do not apply to the Song of the Sea (Exodus 15). But the oral-written textuality of the Scrolls, as well as the oral context from which they emerged, indicates that some variants could very well be derived from oral performance, scribal performance, or oral transmission. Whereas multiformity distances one casting divergent readings as alterations of an ideal text, the term “variants” implies secondary plurality—that is, alterations made to archetypal texts. According to the text-critical theories of Cross and Tov, for example, a single common ancestor lies behind the so-called common errors of each text type (Cross) or each text of a biblical book (Tov).147 Concerning Ulrich’s theory of multiple editions, too, it is hard to escape the impression that every edition of a biblical book ultimately derives from an archetype because Ulrich uses genealogical language to describe the relationship between editions.148 Moreover, he also argues that “all our texts, despite their variety, can be traced genetically back to a single text tradition earlier 146  Hendel, “A New Critical Edition,” 341–42. 147  Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 161–69; Cross, “Problems of Method,” 47–51. A careful analysis of common errors reveals no more than three text types for Cross (Palestinian, Egyptian, and Babylonian) or three texts of each biblical book for Tov (Pre-Samaritan, Vorlage of the LXX, Proto-Masoretic). In addition, Tov adds a group of unaffiliated texts (Non-Aligned Texts). Tov’s category of “Non-Aligned Texts” includes numerous forms of the biblical text that “follow an inconsistent pattern of agreements and disagreements” with “Pre-Samaritan Texts,” “MT-like Texts,” and “Texts Close to the Presumed Hebrew Source of LXX” (Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 109). For the data on all these categories of texts, see Emanuel Tov, Scribal Practices and Approaches Reflected in the Texts Found in the Judean Desert, STDJ 54 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2004), 332–35. 148  Ulrich, Origins of the Bible, 38–41, 95, 113–14. For example, Ulrich uses language such as “stemma,” “base-texts,” “Edition I, II, etc.” or “n+1, n+2, etc.” to describe the relationship between multiple editions of Jeremiah and Exodus. This is also how Hendel has interpreted Ulrich’s theory of successive editions. Ulrich’s multiple editions of Exodus, for example, can all be traced to a single common ancestor, which Hendel labels “Exodus archetype = edition I” at the top of his stemmatic diagram (“Assessing the Text-Critical Theories,” 299).

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than the third century.”149 Worse yet, as Tov’s category of “Non-Aligned Texts” suggests, textual critics judge variants on the basis of their correlation with the theorized archetypes behind each text type (Cross) or each text of a biblical book (Tov).150 Thus, according to Hendel’s fitting metaphor, those readings that underlie a theoretical archetype are deemed like reagents used by a curator to restore a work of art to its pristine condition, while those that do not are regarded as the “secondary accretions” that need to be delicately removed in order to reveal the vibrant colors of the original image.151 With these criticisms of the term “variant” in mind, Chapter 6 examines variants as manifestations of scribal memory. I argue that scribes drew deeply upon both short-term and long-term memories during the copying process. As an example of long-term memory, I consider the diversity of stichographic systems and spacing techniques in the Scrolls. In addition, I examine two wellknown examples of recensional activity that produced different versions of texts (i.e., the Self-Glorification Hymn and the Zadokite Recension). The multiformity of stichography, spacing, and versions represents scribes’ episodic memories—their memories of personal experiences that occurred to them at a particular time and place—of the ways in which texts were read in the communities associated with the Scrolls.152 In this case, the different reading practices within the shifting contexts of a text’s oral performance inevitably lead to multiformity.153 149  Ulrich, “Post-Qumran Theories,” 13–14 n.32. As Tov has also recognized, Ulrich’s theory ultimately replaces the concept of a single “original text” of the Hebrew Bible, or, for that matter, the concept of an original text behind text types of the Hebrew Bible (e.g., MT, SP, or LXX), with the concept of multiple “original texts” of biblical books (see n.23 above). 150  According to Tov’s description of “original text(s),” textual critics should determine the “original/secondary status” of “each assumed scribal error” according to an “evasive entity” called the “original text” (Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 167). 151  Hendel, “A New Critical Edition,” 335. Hendel’s analogy of art restoration is telling— variants (that are uncorrelated with an “original” text) are like the filter of grime that discolored the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel: “Similar principles apply to the restoration of works of art other than texts, such as Michelangelo’s frescos in the Sistine Chapel, or Leonardo’s Last Supper and Pièta (to mention works that have had restorations in recent years). Such works accumulate secondary accretions during the passage of time, just as texts accrue changes at the hands of the scribes who transmit and preserve them. A critical text attempts to turn back the hands of time, a nostalgic gesture perhaps, but one that restorers of other works of human hands will recognize” (“A New Critical Edition,” 335; emphasis added). In short, as Brooke has also correctly observed, Hendel devalues evidence that does not support a theoretical original text (“What is a Variant Edition?” 615). 152  For this definition of episodic memory, see LeDoux, Synaptic Self, 108–9; Endel Tulving, “Episodic Memory: From Mind to Brain,” ARP 53 (2002): 1–25, esp. 3–5. 153  In George J. Brooke’s formulation, “I wonder whether the wide range of forms of the Torah in the Qumran library is not a reflection of a reading process as much as it is the result

36

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As an example of short-term memory, I consider the origin of certain types of variant readings called “memory variants.” On the one hand, many unintentional scribal errors are a natural consequence of the visual and oral processes of copying. In other words, one could hardly deny the existence of either (1) graphic errors generated from copying written texts or (2) aural errors resulting from reading written texts (i.e., dictation).154 On the other hand, some variant readings are the natural consequence of neither sight nor sound but of memory. Some variant readings naturally reflect the scribe’s “working memory” of the text.155 Moving back and forth between their copies and their temporary, visual (or auditory) image of an exemplar, scribes write their immediate understanding of the text. These variants are akin to what Carr calls “memory variants”—namely, “the sorts of slips and textual transformations that occur when a textual tradition is carried in the mind, memorized, and then reproduced.”156 In particular, some additions and omissions, some “synonymous readings” and “misquotations,” and some semantically and syntactically appropriate variants are best explained as the result of scribal gist memory of a text (either oral or written).157 The term “gist memory” refers to the recollections of the meaning or conceptual substance of what was heard or read but not necessarily the exact sounds or words.158 At the same time, however, some memory variants may not have of creative scribal activity” (“Reading, Searching and Blessing: A Functional Approach to Scriptural Interpretation in the ‫יחד‬,” in The Temple in Text and Tradition: A Festschrift in Honour of Robert Hayward, ed. R. Timothy McLay, LSTS 83 [London: Bloomsbury, 2015], 140–56, esp. 146). 154  Concerning these types of unintentional scribal errors, see Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 221–38. For a discussion of the “aural” type of variants, see also Helmer Ringgren, “Oral and Written Transmission in the O.T.: Some Observations,” ST 3 (1949): 34–59, esp. 39ff. Concerning the role of dictation in the copying process, see Norton, Contours of Text, 113–14. 155  Concerning working memory, see Alan Baddeley, “Short Term and Working Memory,” in The Oxford Handbook of Memory, ed. Endel Tulving and F. Craik (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 77–92; LeDoux, Synaptic Self, 174–79. 156  Carr, “Orality, Textuality, and Memory,” 166; emphasis original. Carr elsewhere defines memory variants as “the sort of variants that happen when a tradent modifies elements of texts in the process of citing or otherwise reproducing it from memory” (Formation of the Hebrew Bible, 17). Concerning memory variants, see also Raymond F. Person, The Deuteronomistic History and the Book of Chronicles: Scribal Works in an Oral World, AIL 6 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 109–10. 157  Concerning “synonymous readings” and “misquotations,” see Talmon, “Synonymous Readings,” 335–83; Greenstein, “Misquotation of Scripture,” 71–83. 158  Robert K. McIver, “Gist Memory,” DBAM 156–57; Schacter, The Seven Sins of Memory, 184– 206, esp. 192–93; C. J. Brainerd and V. F. Reyna, “Fuzzy-Trace Theory and False Memory,” CDPS 11 (2002): 164–69.

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been “slips” of the pen at all. Some memory variants are not scribal errors but scribal records of authentic variations that occurred in either written texts or oral performance. From the perspective of the scribe, these readings are not invasive (to a putative original performance or text) because ancient Jewish texts and traditions were predominantly multiform and could therefore exist in several accurate forms at once.159 In sum, both the long-term and short-term memory systems of ancient scribes contributed to textual pluriformity. 4 Summary Throughout this study of the Dead Sea Scrolls as mediums for orality, writing, and memory, I hope to make two overarching points about the sociolinguistic context of the Scrolls, the first of which is about the use of scrolls in ancient Judaism. To be sure, we possess not one spoken syllable, not one iota of one spoken syllable, of any composition from the Dead Sea Scrolls. In other words, we have no audio recordings of how texts were actually read. Written texts, as the title of this series suggests (Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah), are all that remain. But this is not how Jews in antiquity would have perceived the Scrolls. For the Jews who used them, in addition to being written texts, the Scrolls were mediums for orality and memory. They functioned as reference points for study, reading, and memorization, and they stored the cultural texts and the cultural memories of ancient Judaism, as well as the scribal memories of those who penned them. The Dead Sea Scrolls were not texts frozen in written media; rather, they were dynamic discourses that represented spoken words (speech) heard in shifting contexts of oral performance (reading). In Shemaryahu Talmon’s fitting characterization, “In the milieu which engulfed all varieties of Judaism at the turn of the era, a text was by definition an aural text, a spoken writing, a performed story.”160 The second overarching point throughout this study of the Dead Sea Scrolls as ancient media pertains to the social setting of the sectarian movement associated with the Scrolls. The nature of literacy, reading practices, and scribal practices in ancient Judaism invites us to imagine an influential place for orality, texts, and memory in our vision of daily life in the communities associated with the Scrolls. For members of the sectarian movement, the Yaḥad was 159  For a discussion of these aspects of multiformity, see Lord, The Singer of Tales, 100–101, 125. 160  Shemaryahu Talmon, “Oral Tradition and Written Transmission, or the Heard and the Seen Word in Judaism of the Second Temple Period,” in Jesus and the Oral Gospel Tradition, ed. Henry Wansbrough, JSNTSup 64 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1991), 121–58, esp. 150.

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an oral-textual community: oral because they lived in a predominately oral culture in which oral performance, oral tradition, and oral transmission were all integral to social life and identity; textual because they were also a group of people whose social identity centered around the leadership’s interpretation of authoritative texts. In addition, memory was crucial for both members and leaders, as a large part of their identity was constructed by “remembrance through performance”—that is, by the internalization and oral performance of cultural texts. Overall, a rich interface between orality, texts, and memory occurred in the social life of the communities associated with the Scrolls.

chapter 1

Oral Performance I begin my exploration of the Scrolls as an oral medium with an unusual composition, an ancient record of a tongue-lashing. 4Q477 was discovered among the 680 tattered Scrolls strewn across the floor of Cave 4. The remaining fragments of 4Q477 appear to be a list of verbal rebukes, a sort of “Record of Disciplinary Action” (as some translators have called it).1 Interestingly, 4Q477 is the only manuscript in the entire Dead Sea Scroll corpus that mentions the names of ordinary members in the sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls. Unfortunately, only one member’s name—Ḥananiah Notos—is fully preserved, but two additional names are partially extant (Yoḥanan son of […] and Ḥananiah son of Sim[on]).2 The fragmentary state of 4Q477 also obscures the details of their transgressions. Whatever Ḥananiah Notos did or said, it troubled “the spirit of the Yaḥ[ad].” Yoḥanan was reproved for being short-tempered, and Ḥananiah son of Simon was rebuked for “loving the fair neck” (i.e., choosing the good life).3 A Record of Disciplinary Action (4Q477) provides an intriguing snippet of information about daily life in the communities associated with the Scrolls. But like other references to historical (and imagined) figures elsewhere in the Scrolls, 4Q477 raises more questions than it answers. Who was Ḥananiah Notos? Why did he join the Yaḥad? What exactly did he do? We will probably never know.4 Of course, as with the vast majority of ancient people, the biographical details of Ḥananiah’s life are beyond a historian’s reach. But in some respects, as I will argue in this chapter, we can know a bit more about Ḥananiah. Indeed, as Magen Broshi’s creative piece imagining “A Day in the Life of Hananiah Nothos” suggests, we can use the snapshots of day-to-day life 1  Michael Owen Wise, Martin Abegg, and Edward Cook, The Dead Sea Scrolls: A New Translation (New York: HarperOne, 2005), 516. 2  The translation and transcription of the names is from Esther Eshel, “4QRebukes Reported by the Overseer,” in Stephen J. Pfann and Philip S. Alexander et al., Qumran Cave 4.XXVI: Cryptic Texts and Miscellanea, Part 1, ed. DJD 36 (Oxford: Clarendon, 2000), 474–83. 3  Esther Eshel, “4Q477: The Rebukes by the Overseer,” JJS 45 (1994): 111–22, esp. 115–18. 4  Who was Ḥananiah Notos? As 4Q477 itself confirms, Ḥananiah was a quite common name in antiquity, but no record of this particular Ḥananiah exists outside the Scrolls. Concerning the prevalence of the name Ḥananiah in antiquity, see Tal Ilan, “The Names of the Hasmoneans in the Second Temple Period,” ErIsr 19 (1987): 79, 238–41 (in Hebrew). Her study of male Jewish names concludes that Ḥananiah was the seventh most popular name during the Second Temple period (cf. Ilan, “Names of the Hasmoneans,” 238, table 1).

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | doi:10.1163/9789004408203_003

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found in Rule Texts to sketch a rough picture of some details of Ḥananiah’s quotidian routine.5 In addition to narratives outlining the cultural memory of the communities associated with the Scrolls, Rule Texts contain a record of sectarian regulations reflecting both lived and ideal practices. According to the Community Rule and the Damascus Document, for example, members should humbly rebuke one another for breaking community laws. Initially, this entailed a verbal reproof in front of witnesses and in front of an official named the Overseer, who documents the violation—literally, “writes it by his hand” (‫—)יכתבהו בידו‬in case it reoccurs (CD 9:16–22; 14:8–11). If the violation does reoccur, then a formal charge could be lodged during a general membership meeting (1QS 5:24–6:1). Esther Eshel, who first published 4Q477, thus named it “Rebukes Reported by the Overseer.”6 The Overseer was an important leadership figure, charged with administrative gatekeeping within the community. Part of his duties entailed the record-keeping of infractions against community laws, violations that could eventually lead to a member’s expulsion.7 Perhaps 4Q477 was one such record containing the offenses of a number of members. This sort of “reverse engineering,” in which a Dead Sea Scroll is deconstructed and cross-referenced in order to reconstruct another scroll’s meaning and social context is not without its dangers, however. The Overseer, for example, is not mentioned anywhere in 4Q477.8 It is only through the above intertextual reading—seeing 4Q477 through the lens of Rule Texts—that Lawrence H. Schiffman, for example, can confidently claim that “this document clearly stems from the Qumran sectarian community.”9 But what else “clearly” connects this document with the Yaḥad? Surely it cannot be the use of the phrase “spirit of the Yaḥ[ad],” a hapax legomenon in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Put bluntly, there is no “smoking gun” evidence. As Mladen Popović correctly warns, “If we work from a notion of the Yaḥad or the Qumran community too easily, we may miss the circularity in our reasoning as such notions are based on a perception 5  Magen Broshi, “A Day in the Life of Hananiah Nothos: A Story,” in A Day at Qumran: The Dead Sea Sect and Its Scrolls, ed. Adolfo D. Roitman (Jerusalem: The Israel Museum, 1997), 1–11. 6  See n.2 above. Initially Eshel named 4Q477 “The Rebukes by the Overseer” (see n.3 above). This title was misleading, however. According to Rule Texts, as Charlotte Hempel correctly points out, “It is either fellow community members who rebuke one another, or, as in CD IX, 16bff., it is the witnesses who rebuke a neighbor whose wrongdoing they witnessed” (“Who Rebukes in 4Q477?” RevQ 19 [1995]: 655–56). 7  For a full discussion of the Overseer, see §2.2 below. 8  Hempel, “Who Rebukes in 4Q477?” 655. 9  Lawrence H. Schiffman, Qumran and Jerusalem: Studies in the Dead Sea Scrolls and the History of Judaism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 169.

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and selection of certain texts that are projected on ‘the whole,’ and this precludes the possibility of seeing new connections.”10 I do not intend to cast doubt of the “sectarian” character of 4Q477. “The point is,” as Popović asserts, “that we do not know the historical reality, the lived reality, behind the manuscripts in relation to each other and in relation to their ancient handlers.”11 I would add to Popović’s “point” that the majority of the Dead Sea Scrolls should be traced more broadly to Judaism of the Second Temple period and not exclusively to Yaḥad. As correctly noted by Michael Owen Wise, the majority of the Scrolls were authored, copied, and read by the greater Jewish polity outside of the sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls.12 As such, the majority of the Scrolls “embody ideas held by a larger circle of Jews, not ones unique to the people of Qumran.”13 With these points in mind, my survey of orality in the next two chapters is primarily based on a number of explicit descriptions of oral performance located in the Rule Texts from the Dead Sea Scrolls. In other words, I intentionally chose to begin from the vantage point of “sectual performance”—that is, explicit descriptions of “sectarian” oral performance—in order to avoid the pitfall of circular reasoning.14 Moreover, by focusing on descriptions of oral performance in Rule Texts, we can accurately broaden our knowledge about the historical reality, the lived reality, of the sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls. In particular, I use descriptions of oral performance in Rule Texts to outline the content and functions of oral performance for both members and leaders in the sectarian movement. In the first half of this chapter, I examine a number of portrayals of the membership’s oral performance during various community 10  Mladen Popović, “Reading, Writing, and Memorizing Together: Reading Culture in Ancient Judaism and the Dead Sea Scrolls in a Mediterranean Context,” DSD 24 (2017): 447–70, esp. 453–56, esp. 453. 11  Popović, “Reading, Writing, and Memorizing Together,” 453. 12  Michael Owen Wise, Language and Literacy in Roman Judaea: A Study of the Bar Kokhba Documents (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2015), 32–33. The Dead Sea Scrolls, in the words of Wise, “constitute a kind of cross-section of what existed, a glimpse into the broader literary culture of late Second Temple Jewry” (Language and Literacy in Roman Judaea, 33). 13  James C. VanderKam and Peter W. Flint, The Meaning of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Their Significance for Understanding the Bible, Judaism, Jesus, and Christianity (New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 2002), 210. 14  The phrase “sectual performance” is, of course, an allusion to Carol Newsom’s clever pun, which describes sectarian compositions as “sectually explicit” literature. See Carol A. Newsom, “‘Sectually Explicit’ Literature from Qumran,” in The Hebrew Bible and Its Interpreters, ed. William Henry Propp, Baruch Halpern, and David Noel Freedman (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1990), 167–87. Concerning my use of the term “sectarian,” see n.75 in the Introduction above.

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meetings described in Rule Texts such as local chapter meetings (1QS 6:1b–7a), nightly study sessions (1QS 6:7b–8a), general membership meetings (1QS 6:8b– 13a; CD 14:3b–12a), covenant renewal ceremonies (1QS 1:24–26; CD 20:27–30), admission procedures (1QS 5:7c–9a, 6:13b–23; CD 15:5b–10a), and a meeting of Israel in the last days (1QSa 1:1–6a). In the second half of this chapter, I utilize portrayals of the leadership’s performance in Rule Texts to outline the role of oral performance for three leadership offices (Maskil, Mebaqqer, and Paqid) and for two leadership groups (priests and judges). This brings me to a final preliminary matter. As I explained above, my survey of orality in the next two chapters will primarily rely on Rule Texts. But the composite nature, differing perspectives, and historical development of Rule Texts makes this no easy task. Any reconstruction of social practices in the communities associated with the Scrolls should recognize that the Community Rule and the Damascus Document do not picture two clearly defined communities, like still photography capturing distinct groups during a particular time and place. Rather, on account of their composite nature, Rule Texts are more like motion pictures projecting multiple communities within a dynamic movement with divergent practices, membership, and leadership.15 Moreover, differences between Rule Texts and between copies of the same Rule Text (e.g., Cave 1 and Cave 4 copies of the Community Rule) evidence the historical development of community laws and structures within this movement.16 Nevertheless, as I demonstrate below, oral performance persisted throughout varying places and periods in this movement. The content and functions of the membership’s oral performance remained relatively homogenous during earlier and later periods of the movement, whether at Qumran or at outlying settlements.17 This continuity even extended into the envisioned future of these communities. In sum, oral performance was interwoven into the fabric of each member’s daily existence, whenever and wherever they lived.

15  Concerning the composite nature of the Community Rule and the Damascus Document, see Sarianna Metso, “The Relationship between the Damascus Document and the Community Rule,” in The Damascus Document: A Centennial of Discovery: Proceedings of the Third International Symposium of the Orion Center for the Study of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Associated Literature, 4–8 February, 1998, ed. Joseph M. Baumgarten, Esther G. Chazon, and Avital Pinnick, STDJ 34 (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 85–93. 16  Sarianna Metso, The Serekh Texts, CQS 9 (London: T&T Clark, 2007), 69–70. 17  I use the terms “earlier and later” because, as noted by Metso, “it is practically impossible to determine which practice was followed at any particular time, although literary- and redaction-critical analysis can occasionally provide some indication as to the comparative age of each practice” (Serekh Texts, 69).

Oral Performance

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43

Oral Performance of Members

Oral performance is the reading, recitation, or enactment of a text before an audience. Three aspects of this definition merit further explanation: “enactment,” “text,” and “oral.” First, “enactment” refers to the process of “acting out” a text rather than simply reading it.18 As Wise mentions when discussing the “overwhelmingly oral” orientation of literacy in the Greco-Roman world, the reader was to bring the text to life, rouse it from supine hibernation, and release it animate once more. The letters were dead. Only the sounds lived. Reading books was therefore a kind of performance, even if private.19 Because I am concerned with descriptions of oral performance in Rule Texts rather than a performance criticism of Rule Texts, an explanation of how ordinary members “enacted” texts lies beyond purview of this chapter. But I will return to this important aspect of oral performance in Chapter 5, which examines how hymns in the Hodayot were experienced through oral performance and used for identity formation. Second, by the word “text” I do not intend to convey simply “written texts.” Although the term text is often linked with writing, a broader linguistic definition that allows texts to be both oral and written more accurately coincides with the views of textuality reflected in the Dead Sea Scrolls.20 Whether spoken or written, a text is a unit of speech that is designed to be stored and transmitted.21 This linguistic concept of textuality breaks the link between writing and text, and allows us to imagine oral-written texts (and oral texts). In addition, if the reader will excuse my pun, we should keep in mind that “texts” were borne in the mind. This was especially important for the majority of ancient Jews, who primarily stored texts in human memory rather than in physical artefacts, such as scrolls or codices. After all, the majority of Jews in Roman Judea could neither read nor write, yet they still “read” literary works through 18  For an excellent example of this hermeneutic applied to the Scrolls, see Angela Kim Harkins, Reading with an “I” to the Heavens: Looking at the Qumran Hodayot through the Lens of Visionary Traditions, Ekstasis 3 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2012), 3–4, 56–59. 19  Wise, Language and Literacy in Roman Judaea, 304. 20  Concerning oral-written textuality in the Scrolls, see Shem Miller, “The Oral-Written Textuality of Stichographic Poetry in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” DSD 22 (2015): 162–88. 21  K. Ehlich, “Text und sprachliches Handeln: Die Entstehung von Texten aus dem Bedürfnis nach Überlieferung,” in Schrift und Gedächtnis: Beiträge zur Archäologie der literarischen Kommunikation, ed. Aleida Assmann, Jan Assmann, and Christof Hardmeier (Munich: Wilhelm Fink Verlag, 1983), 24–43, esp. 24–27.

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the oral performance of elite professionals and “wrote” them on their hearts and minds. In the education-enculturation of ancient Judaism, as pointed out by David M. Carr, the purpose of reading was to engrave long-duration texts on the tablet of one’s heart.22 Third, “oral” does not just denote “realized in performance” because a text can be “oral” in terms of composition, transmission, or performance.23 In other words, performance is merely one form of orality—a form that is delineated by particular sociolinguistic contexts. The work of Richard Bauman, a folklorist and ethnopoeticist, clarifies one pertinent context that delineates oral performance. Because all performance is “situated behavior,” in Bauman’s terminology, it can only be “rendered meaningful with reference to relevant contexts.”24 Relevant contexts are “culturally defined [literal or figurative] places where performance occurs.”25 And the most conspicuous relevant contexts, according to Bauman, are “cultural performances”—namely, “scheduled events, restricted in setting, clearly bounded, and widely public, involving the most highly formalized performance forms.”26 Additionally, cultural performances are subject to “a range of community ground rules that regulate speaking in general” as well as the “performance itself.”27 The community meetings described in the Community Rule (1QS), the Damascus Document (CD), and the Rule of the Congregation (1QSa) provide an incisive entrée into the role of oral performance as they are clear examples of cultural performances. Similar to Bauman’s description of cultural performances, community meetings are scheduled events, clearly bounded, and public. Moreover, community meetings are subject to a range of “ground rules” concerning oral performance itself. I am not only referring to the wide range 22  David M. Carr, Writing on the Tablet of the Heart: Origins of Scripture and Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 4–14, 126–34, 215–39. 23  John Miles Foley, How to Read an Oral Poem (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2002), 50–52; Ruth Finnegan, “What Is Orality—If Anything?” BMGS 14 (1990): 130–49, esp. 134–36. 24  Richard Bauman, Verbal Art as Performance (Prospect Heights: Waveland Press, 1984), 25–29, esp. 27. From the perspective of linguistic anthropology, relevant contexts correspond to the “performance arena,” a term that designates a literal or figurative place of oral performance. In other words, “relevant contexts” include both geographical sites and metaphorical areas where performers and audience go to experience oral-traditional texts. For more on the term “performance arena,” see John Miles Foley, The Singer of Tales in Performance (Indiana: Indiana University Press, 1995), 47–49; Shem Miller, “Performance Arena,” DBAM 280–81. 25  Bauman, Verbal Art as Performance, 27. 26  Bauman, Verbal Art as Performance, 28. 27  Bauman, Verbal Art as Performance, 28–29.

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of laws regulating speech in general, but also to a host of additional “ground rules” governing speech during community meetings that extend beyond these regulations. For example, according to regulations governing general speech in the Community Rule, speaking deceitfully (‫)ישקר‬, defiantly (‫)בקשי עורף‬, impatiently (‫)בקוצר אפים‬, angrily (‫)בחמה‬, or foolishly (‫ )דבר נבל‬with fellow members are all punishable offenses (1QS 6:24–7:9). In addition, as I will demonstrate below, Rule Texts require every member to perform publicly in specified manners at particular meetings. 1.1 Local Chapter Meetings In past scholarship, the Community Rule was associated with a single, large Essene community living at Qumran, whereas the Damascus Document was associated with smaller satellite camps outside Qumran. As persuasively argued by John J. Collins, however, the Community Rule also describes smaller, dispersed communities.28 As far as I am aware, A. R. C. Leaney first noted this interpretation when commenting on the following passage:29 By these rules they are to govern themselves wherever they dwell [‫]בכול מגוריהם‬, in accordance with each legal finding that bears upon communal life…. They shall eat [‫]ויחד יואכלו‬, bless [‫]ויחד יברכו‬, and deliberate communally [‫]ויחד יועצו‬. Wherever ten men from the party of the Yaḥad [‫]מעצת החיד‬30 are gathered, a priest must always be present. The men shall sit before the priest by rank, and in that manner their opinions will be sought on any matter…. In any place where is gathered the ten-man quorum, someone must always be engaged in study of the Law (‫)איש דורש בתורה‬, day and night, continually, each one taking his turn. (1QS 6:1b–4, 6–7a)31 Although the social context of 1QS 6:1b–7a has been vigorously debated, a few points of interpretation are clear. These regulations pertain to gatherings 28  John J. Collins, “Forms of Community in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Emanuel: Studies in Hebrew Bible, Septuagint, and Dead Sea Scrolls in Honor of Emanuel Tov, ed. Shalom M. Paul et al., VTSup 94 (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 97–111, esp. 104. 29  A. R. C. Leaney, The Rule of Qumran and Its Meaning: Introduction, Translation and Commentary (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1966), 185–86. According to Leaney, 1QS 6:1–8a “was legislation for small dispersed communities” (Rule of Qumran, 186). 30  This is a scribal error (1QS 6:3). One should read ‫היחד‬. 31  Unless otherwise stated, all transcriptions and translations of Rule Texts are from Donald W. Parry and Emanuel Tov, eds., The Dead Sea Scrolls Reader, Part 1: Texts Concerned with Religious Law (Leiden: Brill, 2004), with minor modifications.

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in multiple locations, because the phrase “wherever they dwell” [‫—]מגוריהם‬ literally translated as “their dwelling places”—is plural. Moreover, the following context suggests that these dispersed gatherings are relatively small, consisting of ten members from the party of the Yaḥad. As correctly emphasized by Collins and Sarianna Metso, the preposition “from” indicates these gatherings were part of a larger community.32 The question remains, however, whether these smaller gatherings were contemporaneous with the larger community described elsewhere in the Community Rule. For our purposes, to borrow Hempel’s astute characterization, the debate over this passage can be boiled down to two positions: “satellite” and “precursor.”33 The satellite position argues that 1QS 6:1b–7a is integral to the Community Rule and demonstrates that the Yaḥad—the name of the entire sectarian movement in the broadest sense—consisted of the community at Qumran as well as smaller satellite communities, which are analogous to the camps in the Damascus Document.34 Moreover, these small communities existed contemporaneously with the community at Qumran. 1QS 6:1b–7a therefore contains regulations intended to govern life at these various local chapters of the Yaḥad. The precursor position, as summarized by Metso, holds that this passage “originated in early stages of the Essene movement in circles that organizationally seem to have been quite similar to the maḥaneh [camp] communities 32  John J. Collins, Beyond the Qumran Community: The Sectarian Movement of the Dead Sea Scrolls (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 66–68; idem, “The Yaḥad and ‘the Qumran Community,’” in Biblical Traditions in Transmission: Essays in Honour of Michael A. Knibb, ed. Charlotte Hempel and Judith Lieu, JSJSup 111 (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 81–96, esp. 88–89. Alternatively, according to Metso, the prepositional phrase, “from the party of the Yaḥad,” could describe small groups of Yaḥad members traveling together outside large Essene settlements such as Qumran. See Sarianna Metso, “Whom Does the Term Yaḥad Identify?” in Defining Identities: We, You, and the Other in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Proceedings from the Fifth Meeting of the IOQS in Groningen, ed. Florentino García Martínez and Mladen Popović, STDJ 70 (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 63–84, esp. 75–76. 33  Charlotte Hempel, “1QS 6:2c–4a–Satellites or Precursors of the Yaḥad?” in The Dead Sea Scrolls and Contemporary Culture, ed. Adolfo D. Roitman, Lawrence H. Schiffman, and Shani Tzoref, STDJ 93 (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 31–40. Metso also provides a helpful summary of these two positions (“Whom Does the Term Yaḥad Identify?” 73–77). 34  Collins, “Forms of the Community,” 104; Alison Schofield, “Rereading S: A New Model of Textual Development in Light of the Cave 4 ‘Serekh’ Copies,” DSD 15 (2008): 96–120, esp. 97–98, 113–15; Eyal Regev, “The Yaḥad and the Damascus Covenant: Structure, Organization and Relationship,” RevQ 21 (2003): 233–62, esp. 235–36. Concerning its “integral” nature, Alison Schofield’s commentary is worth rehearsing: “This passage, while probably early, may be an interpolation, as Metso suggests, but it is integrated quite smoothly into all parallel versions of S, including the ‘early’ 4QSd tradition. Therefore, it would have been part of the Yaḥad consciousness from an early stage” (“Rereading S,” 115).

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described in D [the Damascus Document].”35 Additionally, these small communities, especially as described in 1QS 6:1c–4a, were not contemporaneous with the large Essene community at Qumran; instead, they were a historical precursor, an incipient stage in the life of the Yaḥad.36 1QS 6:1b–7a is therefore a later interpolation that was “incorporated into S [the Community Rule] as an earlier, time-honored set of directives,” and the description of smaller meetings is anachronistic vis-à-vis the community reflected in the final literary stages of 1QS.37 Before explaining the import of these different views for our study of oral performance, I should discuss the portrayal of oral performance in 1QS 6:1b–7a. As correctly noted by Metso, “1QS 6:1c–7a involves not only the decision making (the counsel), but various kinds of communal gatherings, prayer, [and] the meal and the study of the law.”38 The most “primitive” part of 1QS 6:1c–7a, according to Hempel, “gives the impression of going back to the earliest and simplest beginnings of communal life” when members practiced communal living by (1) eating, (2) blessing, and (3) deliberating together (1QS 6:1c–3a).39 More importantly for my present topic, oral performance was integral to all of these activities. Concerning “eating,” the subsequent description of grace before meals (1QS 6:5) reveals “eating” likely involved oral performance. Additionally, similar to 1QS 6:7b–8a (see §‎1.2 below), the verb “bless” denotes 35  Metso, “Whom Does the Term Yaḥad Identify?” 77. 36  Charlotte Hempel, “Emerging Communal Life and Ideology in the S Tradition,” in Defining Identities: We, You, and the Other in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Proceedings from the Fifth Meeting of the IOQS in Groningen, ed. Florentino García Martínez and Mladen Popović, STDJ 70 (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 43–61, esp. 44–47; eadem, “Interpretive Authority in the Community Rule Tradition,” DSD 10 (2003): 59–80, esp. 67. 37  Metso, “Whom Does the Term Yaḥad Identify?” 84. Metso’s quote is more intelligible in light of her overarching views of the Community Rule. As she correctly argues, the Community Rule is both a record of judicial decisions and a report of oral traditions. See Sarianna Metso, “In Search of the Sitz im Leben of the Community Rule,” in The Provo International Conference on the Dead Sea Scrolls: Technological Innovations, New Texts, and Reformulated Issues, ed. Donald W. Parry and Eugene Ulrich, STDJ 30 (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 86–93, esp. 314; eadem, Serekh Texts, 68–70. Thus, the regulations in the Community Rule reflect multiple stages in the life of the community. In a more complex but compatible argument, Hempel contends 1QS 6:1b–7a is composite, containing multiple redactional layers reflecting different periods (“Interpretive Authority,” 66–68); moreover, she maintains that an earlier “floating” tradition without any reference to the Yaḥad served as a source for the earliest redactional layer (1QS 6:2c–4a) (“Satellites or Precursors?” 39). 38  Sarianna Metso, The Textual Development of the Qumran Community Rule, STDJ 21 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 134. 39  Hempel, “Interpretive Authority,” 67.

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performance of speech acts as well as the recitation of thanksgivings and prayers. But what does “deliberating” entail? In view of subsequent prescriptions in this passage for (1) constant study of Law (1QS 6:6–7a) and (2) the supervision of a trained priest during meetings, communal “deliberation” may have included oral pedagogy of sectarian regulations. Thus, “men shall sit before the priest by rank, and in that manner their opinions will be sought on any matter” (1QS 6:4). It is reasonable to deduce that “any matter” likely included, amongst other things, sectarian law. Overall, regardless of which view one takes regarding the social context of 1QS 6:1b–7a, the portrayal of these smaller meetings carries important implications for our understanding of oral performance in the communities associated with the Scrolls. According to the satellite view, 1QS 6:1b–7a demonstrates that oral performance figured prominently in the life of all members, whether they lived at Qumran or at outlying settlements. According to the precursor view, 1QS 6:1b–7a indicates that oral performance was crucial for the membership during an incipient stage of the Yaḥad movement. Additionally, assuming Metso’s theories of textual development are accurate, the inclusion of this passage in 4QSd (4Q258) indicates that oral performance also figured prominently during subsequent stages of the movement.40 Even if 1QS 6:2c– 4a represents the primitive core of the passage, the subsequent elaboration of “eating,” “blessing,” and “deliberation” in 1QS 6:3b–7a associates these acts with oral performance, at least for the communities of the compiler of 1QS 6:1b–7a and of the final editors of 4QSd (4Q258) and 1QS. 1.2 Nightly Study Session Couched between regulations regarding local chapters (1QS 6:1b–7a) and the general membership meeting (6:8b–13a), one finds a brief description of a mandatory, nightly study session practiced by the “general membership”: But the general membership will be diligent together (‫והרבים ישקודו‬ ‫ )ביחד‬for the first third of every night of the year, reading aloud from the Book (‫)לקרוא בספר‬, interpreting the ruling (‫)ולדרוש משפט‬, and blessing together (‫)ולברך ביחד‬. (1 QS 6:7b–8a)41

40  According to Metso’s study, 4QSd is an earlier version than 1QS (Textual Development, 146–47). For the view that 1QS is earlier than the Cave 4 copies of the Community Rule, see Philip S. Alexander and Géza Vermes, Qumran Cave 4.XIX: Serekh Ha-Yaḥad and Two Related Texts, DJD 26 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1998), 9–12. 41  This is my translation.

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Because 1QS 6:7b–8a falls at the tail end of a literary unit that primarily treats regulations pertaining to local chapters (1QS 6:1b–8a), debate over this passage’s social context is interwoven with the aforementioned satellite and precursor interpretations of 1QS 6:1b–7a. On the one hand, the satellite position holds that 1QS 6:7b–8a is integral to the Community Rule and pertains to any general membership at Qumran and at outlying communities.42 “General membership,” according to this view, denotes all fully fellowshipped members within a particular community.43 At Qumran and outlying communities, these nightly study sessions were contemporaneous with the activities described in 1QS 6:1b–7a. On the other hand, the precursor position holds that 1QS 6:7b–8a is an interpolation and pertains to all members of the Yaḥad, presumably at Qumran.44 The general membership meeting therefore represents later practices of the Community compared with the earlier stage seen in 1QS 6:1b–7a. I do not intend to declare whether the “precursor” or “satellite” position should be preferred. But both of these interpretations are more helpful than one that conflates the stipulations in 1QS 6:6–8a. In other words, the prescription for continual study of the Torah (1QS 6:6–7a) should not be conflated with the descriptions of nightly study sessions (1QS 6:7b–8a) or general membership

42  For example, this interpretation is suggested by George J. Brooke when he states, “As John J. Collins has argued, the ‫[ יחד‬Yaḥad] consisted of multiple communities; the implication of the passage [i.e., 1QS 6:6–8] in the first cave version of the Rule of the Community is that at least ten men are needed in any one place for the activities described here to take place” (“Reading, Searching and Blessing: A Functional Approach to Scriptural Interpretation in the ‫יחד‬,” in The Temple in Text and Tradition: A Festschrift in Honour of Robert Hayward, ed. R. Timothy McLay, LSTS 83 [London: Bloomsbury, 2015], 140–56, esp. 142). 43  According to Schofield, the term “Yaḥad” describes the movement in the broadest sense, whereas “the many” denotes “the fully-fellowshipped membership of a given congregation, described as such only when functioning as a judicial body” (From Qumran to the Yaḥad: A New Paradigm of Textual Development for the Community Rule, STDJ 77 [Leiden: Brill, 2009], 146–47; emphasis added). In contrast to Schofield, Metso understands “the many” in the Community Rule to signify “the totality of full membership of the community, consisting of both priests and laymen” (“Qumran Community Structure and Terminology as Theological Statement,” RevQ 20 [2002]: 429–44, esp. 441). In a similar vein, Metso claims elsewhere that a “comparison between [1QS] VI, 8 and 10 shows that there is no difference in meaning between the terms ‫[ הרבים‬the many] and ‫עצת היחד‬ [council of the Yaḥad]” (Textual Development, 134). 44  For example, Metso argues that 1QS 6:7b–8a was “composed by the redactor in order to combine” the regulations for smaller dispersed communities in 1QS 6:1c–7a with the regulations for a larger community in 6:8b–13a (Textual Development, 133). Along the same lines, according to Hempel, “1QS 6:7b–8a forms part of a strand of later elaborations of a primitive core of 1QS 6:1c–8a” (“Interpretive Authority,” 63).

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meetings (1QS 6:8b–9a).45 Instead, depending on one’s view (i.e., precursor or satellite), 1QS 6:6–7a and 7b–8a describe separate activities that occurred concurrently in one or multiple locations.46 As correctly noted by Leaney, the waw conjunction before “general membership” (‫ )והרבים‬should probably be read disjunctively, distinguishing the two clauses in 1QS 6:6–8a as separate activities.47 At least it should be translated.48 1QS 6:7b–8a lists three components of oral performance that figured prominently at the general membership meeting: reading, interpreting, and blessing. First, members “read” the Book. In Judaism in antiquity, written texts were intrinsically connected with speech because, in the majority of circumstances, reading was speaking. The verb “read” (‫ )קרא‬therefore usually denotes oral performance, either reading aloud or recitation from memory, rather than silent reading.49 Moreover, as George J. Brooke argues, “reading” in 1QS 6:7b–8a “seems to be more than recitation from text or memory; it seems to involve comprehension and even some kind of active engagement with the text as it

45  Metso, The Serekh Texts, 66. Carr, for example, fuses the nightly study session with the prescription for the continual study of the Torah (at the end of 1QS 6:1b–7a), as if they refer to a single meeting. According to his interpretation, after completion of the admission process, each member “begins participation in an ongoing community of study, where every group of ten must always have an interpreter of the Torah day and night, relieving one another in shifts, reading the scroll aloud, investigating the law, and blessing the congregation (1QS VI 6–8)” (Writing on the Tablet of the Heart, 218). 46  For an example of the latter, see n.47 below. As noted by Hempel (“Interpretive Authority,” 63 n.12), Steven D. Fraade suggests the former interpretation with the following statement: “While an officer of the community is assigned the responsibility of continual Torah recitation or meditation, the community as a whole performs a nightly watch of three parts: scriptural reading, sectarian legal study, and blessings” (“Interpretive Authority in the Studying Community at Qumran,” JJS 44 [1993]: 46–69, esp. 58). See also Metso, The Serekh Texts, 66. 47  Commenting on “and the many,” Leaney states, “Possibly ‘and’ should be ‘but’; the dispersed communities must have one man occupied with Torah study every hour of day and night, but the main body, the headquarters [sic] community at Qumran, are to study in community” (Rule of Qumran, 185). 48  Some translations ignore the waw altogether. For example, see Wise, Abegg, and Cook, The Dead Sea Scrolls, 123; James H. Charlesworth et al., eds., The Dead Sea Scrolls: Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek Texts with English Translations, Volume 1: Rule of the Community and Related Documents (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1994), 124; DSSR 1:25. 49  Although silent, individual reading may also have occurred in educational contexts, texts were most often read out loud in a communal setting. Concerning silent reading, see André Lemaire, “Liré, écrire, étudier à Qoumrân et ailleurs,” in Qoumrân et le judaïsme du tournant de notre ère: Actes de la Table Ronde, Collège de France, 16 novembre 2004, ed. André Lemaire and Simon C. Mimouni, CREJ 40 (Louvain: Peeters, 2006), 63–79, esp. 66.

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was performed.”50 Thus, similar to most Jews during this period, reading would have involved “elementary broader interpretive aspects of the text” because “these were inseparable from oral performance of the content, which often included discussion.”51 Second, members “interpret” the ruling. Most basically, the verb “interpret” connotes studying or expounding.52 As Brooke argues, “interpret” in this context denotes exegesis of a text.53 In addition, this “interpretation” appears to have been part of the membership’s education curriculum. As correctly emphasized by Martin S. Jaffee, “Given the context of rules for collective gatherings in which this passage appears, it seems clear that this interpretive explication is an act of instruction rather than a private activity of the expounder.”54 Finally, as the occurrence of “interpret” in tandem with “read” and “bless” suggests, this communal studying was oral. The question remains, however, what texts were read and interpreted? The first text mentioned, the “Book” (‫)ספר‬, probably designates (1) the Law and (2) other authoritative texts, such as “the Book of Hagi (Hagu)” and Jubilees.55 50  Brooke, “Reading, Searching and Blessing,” 145. See also Hindy Najman, “The Idea of Biblical Genre: From Discourse to Constellation,” in Prayer and Poetry in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature: Essays in Honor of Eileen Schiller on the Occasion of Her 65th Birthday, ed. Jeremy Penner, Ken Penner, and Cecilia Wassen, STDJ 98 (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 307–21, esp. 319–20. 51  Wise, Language and Literacy in Roman Judaea, 308. In this quote, Wise is referring to 1QSa 1:6–8 (not 1QS 6:7b–8a); moreover, he is speaking more broadly about ancient Jewish educational practices in Judea. That being said, his thought equally applies to the education curriculum within the communities associated with the Scrolls. 52  Lawrence H. Schiffman, Sectarian Law in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Courts, Testimony and the Penal Code, BJS 33 (Chico: Scholars Press, 1983), 14–16; George J. Brooke, Reading the Dead Sea Scrolls: Essays in Method, EJL 39 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2013), 111–13. 53  According to Brooke, “There can be little doubt that the second term of the trilogy in 1QS VI, 7–8 [i.e., “interpret”] implies some kind of instruction in the form of exegetical activity and has such investigative activity as its referent” (“Reading, Searching and Blessing,” 150). 54  Martin S. Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth: Writing and Oral Tradition in Palestinian Judaism, 200 BCE–400 CE (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 33. 55  Concerning the “Book” and the Law, see Michael A. Knibb, The Qumran Community, CCJCW 2 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 117; Leaney, Rule of Qumran, 185. Concerning the “Book” and other authoritative texts, such as “the Book of Hagi (Hagu)” and Jubilees, see Lawrence H. Schiffman, “‘Memory and Manuscript’: Books, Scrolls, and the Tradition of the Qumran Texts,” in New Perspectives on Old Texts: Proceedings of the Tenth International Symposium of the Orion Center for the Study of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Associated Literature, 9–11 January, 2005, ed. Esther G. Chazon, Baruch Halpern-Amaru, and Ruth A. Clements, STDJ 88 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 133–50, esp. 140–41; Fraade, “Studying Community at Qumran,” 56–57.

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Thus, in light of the above description of “reading,” 1QS 6:7b–8a indicates that the Torah and other authoritative texts were actively engaged through oral performance at nightly study sessions and at general membership meetings. But the second text mentioned, the “ruling” (‫)משפט‬, is more difficult to define, especially in relationship to the Book. According to Schiffman’s study of legal regulations, the ruling (‫ )משפט‬is a technical term denoting community regulations.56 Alternatively, as other scholars have argued, the ruling may designate Scripture rather than community laws, although this seems unlikely.57 1QS 6:7b–8a describes these two texts together, as if they were interconnected but separate. “At a minimum,” as Fraade opines, “their combination in nightly communal study suggests some consideration of their interconnection.”58 Jaffee provides a good summary of this crux interpretum: While it is clear that the recitation of the Book is preliminary to the exposition of the ruling, the relationship of the two acts remains unspecified. Is the ruling exegetically derived from the Book, or is it an independent textual entity in its own right? In either event, is the ruling a written document or an orally transmitted compendium of some sort?59 Jaffee’s line of questioning sets up two false dichotomies: (1) written or oral and (2) independent text or exegetically derived. But these categories are not mutually exclusive.60 The ruling is an independent, oral-written text containing sectarian regulations generated from exegesis of Torah and other authoritative texts.61 Moreover, because reading the Book is preliminary, the ruling appears to stem from exegesis of the Torah and other texts.62 As Fraade 56  Lawrence H. Schiffman, The Halakhah at Qumran, SJLA 16 (Leiden: Brill, 1975), 42–44. 57  For the view that the “ruling” designates Scripture, see Hempel, “Interpretive Authority,” 66 n.32; Knibb, The Qumran Community, 116–17. But note Metso’s counterargument (Serekh Texts, 66). 58  Steven D. Fraade, “Looking for Legal Midrash at Qumran,” in Biblical Perspectives: Early Use and Interpretation of the Bible in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls, ed. Michael E. Stone and Esther G. Chazon, STDJ 28 (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 59–79, esp. 67. 59  Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth, 36. See also Metso, The Serekh Texts, 64. 60  Although Jaffee is concerned to prove that authority only derives from written texts (Torah in the Mouth, 37–38), the description of the general membership meeting demonstrates that oral teachings were also authoritative (see §‎1.3 below). 61  By “text,” I intend to convey a broader linguistic definition (see above), whereas “oralwritten” denotes a text realized in both speech and writing. I use “independent” in the same sense as Jaffee: a text other than the Torah that serves as “a source of teaching in its own right” (Torah in the Mouth, 36). 62  As Brooke concludes, “Thus if what is read forms the object of investigative deliberation and study, then predominantly the object of such study might well have been the Law

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argues, reading the Book and interpreting the ruling were independent activities with two types of material, Torah and sectarian regulations, but they were also intrinsically connected because “the latter derive by inspired exegesis from the former.”63 Third, members “blessed together.” The portrayal of communal “blessings” bespeaks the liturgical nature of these study meetings and indicates that speech acts involving prayer were also an important component of each member’s oral performance. In particular, as I will argue below, the membership’s performance of speech acts functioned to facilitate sectarian identity formation (see §1.4 below). More broadly, however, the phrase “blessing together” denotes the recitation and interpretation of a wide range of thanksgivings and prayers.64 These “blessings,” according to Brooke, performed two functions in this context: interpretation of scriptural materials and endorsement of the sectarian interpretation realized in the earlier “reading” and “interpreting.”65 1.3 General Membership Meeting Subsequent to the description of the nightly study session, a section introduced as “the rule for the session of the general membership” (1QS 6:8b–13a) outlines the procedural rules for another community meeting in which oral performance figures prominently: This is the rule for the session of the general membership, each man being in his proper place. The priests shall sit in the first row, the elders in the second, then the rest of the people, each in his proper place. In that order they shall be questioned about any judgment, deliberation or matter. (1QS 6:8b–9a; cf. CD 14:3b–6)66 The general membership meeting was a gathering of all fully fellowshipped members of a given congregation for judicial purposes.67 In comparison with the meetings described in 1QS 6:1b–7a, the rule for the general membership in some form, or some other authoritative texts, such as the Psalms and the Prophets” (“Reading, Searching and Blessing,” 150). He footnotes, however, that the object of study could also include “the legal decisions of the community’s council derived from the Law or other authoritative texts” (“Reading, Searching and Blessing,” 150 n.39). See also Schiffman, Halakhah at Qumran, 19–21, 75–76. I disagree with Schiffman, however, that exegesis was the only source of sectarian regulations (see Chapter 2 §3 below). 63  Fraade, “Studying Community at Qumran,” 57. 64  Brooke, “Reading, Searching and Blessing,” 153. 65  Brooke, “Reading, Searching and Blessing,” 153. 66  D SSR 1:27. 67  Schofield, From Qumran to the Yaḥad, 146–47.

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envisions a larger more hierarchical meeting, which is organized according to priests, elders, and the rest of the people.68 The general membership meeting is under the charge of the Mebaqqer (“Overseer”), a leadership office primarily described in the Damascus Document (1QS 6:11–12; CD 14:8–12).69 As is well known, the Mebaqqer presides over a remarkably similar meeting in the Damascus Document, called the “meeting of all the camps” (CD 14:3b–12a), with slightly different organization and terminology (CD 14:7).70 Hempel has argued that the commonalities between the “general membership meeting” in the Community Rule and the “meeting of all the camps” in the Damascus Document derive from similar sources: “The author responsible for 1QS 6:8b–10a drew upon a piece of communal legislation along the lines of CD 14:3b–6b and adapted it to the particular needs within his own community.”71 More precisely, to further nuance Hempel’s hypothesis, the authors of 4QSb,d—earlier textual forms of the Community Rule than 1QS— drew upon a piece of communal legislation along the lines of CD 14:3b–6b.72 Thus, if Hempel (and Metso) are correct, this meeting was described in an independent piece of communal legislation that served as the source for our earliest textual versions of the Community Rule. Most importantly, similar to the precursor views of 1QS 6:1b–7a, this interpretation suggests that oral performance was vital during the incipient stages of the sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls. The general membership meeting illustrates two primary functions of oral performance: (1) instruct members in sectarian regulations and (2) adjudicate legal disputes within the community. Each member takes part in oral interlocution regarding the “ruling” (‫ )משפט‬and other legal “deliberations” (‫)עצה ודבר‬: “In that order they will be questioned about the ruling, and any deliberation or 68  Leaney, Rule of Qumran, 185–86. 69  For my treatment of this leadership office, see §2.2 below. For other surveys of the Overseer’s duties, see Charlotte Hempel, “Community Structures in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Admission, Organization, Disciplinary Procedures,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls after Fifty Years: A Comprehensive Assessment, ed. Peter W. Flint and James C. VanderKam, 2 vols. (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 2:67–92, esp. 79–81; Lawrence H. Schiffman, Reclaiming the Dead Sea Scrolls: The History of Judaism, the Background of Christianity, the Lost Library of Qumran (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1994), 121–23; Metso, “Qumran Community Structure,” 439–40. 70  For a comparison of the “general membership meeting” in the Community Rule and the “meeting of all the camps” in the Damascus Document, see Hempel, “Community Structures,” 75–77. 71  Hempel, “Community Structures,” 77. 72  Although the text was probably shorter, “4QSb,d have preserved two small fragments belonging to this section [1QS 6:8b–13a]” (Metso, Textual Development, 116).

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matter that comes up before the general membership (‫וכן ישאלו למשפט ולכול‬ ‫)עצה ודבר‬, so that each man may voice his opinion to the party of the Yaḥad” (1QS 6:9b–10a).73 The term “ruling” (‫ )משפט‬entails sectarian regulations, whereas the broader terms, “deliberation or matter” (‫)עצה ודבר‬, designate any legal dispute involving regulations and interpretation. According to the subsequent context, the ruling was transmitted and legal disputes were settled by word of mouth: “Only the man being questioned shall speak in his turn (‫( ”)האיש הנשאל ידבר בתרו‬1QS 6:11). As a consequence, a tight grid of ground rules regulated speech at these meetings: None should interrupt the words of his comrade, speaking before his brother finishes what he has to say. Neither should anyone speak before another of a higher rank. Only the man being questioned shall speak in his turn. (1QS 6:10b–11a)74 All members must perform in a prescribed, orderly, and hierarchical manner. Only one person speaks at a time, and interruptions are forbidden. A hierarchy of speech ensures that members with the most knowledge of halakhic matters speak first (priests). Additionally, when a priest is guiding deliberation on a particular topic, lower ranks cannot voice their opinion unless they first re­ ceive permission (1QS 6:12–13). In fact, all speech is tightly controlled. Every member must receive permission to speak from the general membership or leader of the assembly: “During the session of the general membership no man should say anything except by the permission of the general membership, or more particularly, of the man who is the Overseer of the general membership” (1QS 6:11–12).75 Overall, these ground rules demonstrate the crucial role of oral performance and underscore its binding authority in the sectarian commu­ nities, particularly during their early stages (for more on oral authority, see Chapter 2 §3). 1.4 Covenant Renewal Ceremony In addition to blessings, members utilized a variety of performative utterances to appropriate the community’s cultural memory and create a common 73  This translation is mine. 74  D SSR 1:27. 75  In both the “general membership meeting” in the Community Rule and the “meeting of all the camps” in the Damascus Document, the Mebaqqer ensures the community meeting takes place in an orderly manner. All members must receive his permission to speak, and all discussion must begin with him (1QS 6:11–12; CD 14:11–12). For more on the Mebaqqer, see §‎2.2 below.

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descent.76 For example, initiates’ oral confession of sins served as the heart of an annual covenant renewal ceremony: [And a]ll the initiates into the Covenant (‫ )[וכו]ל העוברים בברית‬are to respond by confessing, “We have been wicked, transgressed, and [sin]ned. We have been wicked—we and our [f]athers before us (‫פשענו‬ ‫—)[חט]אנו הרשענו אנו ו[א]בותינו מלפנינו‬walking [in rebellion to the laws] of truth and righteousness, [wherefore God] has judged us, both we and our fathers. (1QS 1:24–26; cf. CD 20:27–30)77 This confession of sins is an excerpt from an originally independent liturgical section (1QS 1:16–3:12), which can be divided into three parts, each describing different components of a single ceremony.78 More specifically, 1QS 1:24–26 falls in a subsection describing the initiation of new members into the covenant (1QS 1:16–2:18). As pointed out by Metso, this liturgical section (1QS 1:16– 3:12) belongs to the final stages of the Community Rule’s development.79 Older versions of the Community Rule (e.g., 4QSd [4Q258] and 4QSe [4Q259]) lack this liturgical section, and descriptions of a more primitive admission process elsewhere do not describe an annual event with a confession of sins.80 With these facts in mind, this oral confession was likely practiced during later stages of the sectarian movement (i.e., contemporaneous with the final literary forms of 1QS and CD). According to Daniel K. Falk’s study, the covenant renewal ceremony was structured into four parts: ascription of praise, historical recollection of God’s

76  Concerning the role of cultural memory in identity formation, see Jan Assmann, Religion and Cultural Memory: Ten Studies, trans. Rodney Livingstone (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2006), 1–14, 24–30. For a full discussion of cultural memory, see Chapter 5 §‎3. 77  The translation is from Wise, Abegg, and Cook, The Dead Sea Scrolls, 118, with some minor changes. 78  Metso, Textual Development, 112–13, 140. The following subsections describe a rite for the annual review of membership (1QS 2:19–25a) and a condemnation of those who refuse to enter the covenant (1QS 2:25b–3:12). 79  Metso, Textual Development, 112, 146. 80  Similarly, a variant version of the same confession of sins occurs in MS B of CD, a later (more thoroughly revised) copy of the Damascus Document (CD 20:27–30). But the confession is not found in 4QDb (4Q267), which represents an earlier literary stage of the Damascus Document. Concerning admission procedures, see Hempel, “Community Structures,” 70–73. Hempel argues the description of admission in 1QS 5:7c–9a portrays an earlier, less elaborate procedure (see §1.5 below).

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mercies, confession of sins, and acknowledgement of God’s just sentence.81 Because the covenant renewal ceremony was performed over a span of years, and perhaps in diverse locations, variations arose between the confessions in CD 20:27–30 and 1QS 1:24–26; nonetheless, these two passages encapsulate the same confession.82 In Falk’s words, we should consider the confessions as “a condensed description of the ritual” rather than detailed instructions for performance.83 The common rhetoric of both confessions sheds light on the function of this speech act. In both the Damascus Document and the Community Rule, confession is contextualized within the membership’s memory of “our forefathers’ sin” because this speech act functions to evoke and to create the membership’s common descent. In short, history is instrumentalized for the purpose of identity formation.84 Oral performance of this confession encourages members to imagine their identity—to “remember” themselves and their forefathers. But what members remember has nothing to do with historical facts. Similar to the portrayal of the past in Deuteronomy, history becomes a “foundation myth,” a story that is told in order to frame sectarian laws and to explain the origins of the sectarian movement.85 In this manner, a recognition of Israel’s past sins creates and reinforces sectarian identity.86 1.5 Admission Procedures A close comparison of the various procedures in the Community Rule and the Damascus Document reveals that we are not dealing with divergent descriptions of the single admission ceremony (1QS 1:16–2:25a; 5:7c–9a; 5:20b–24a; 6:13b–23; CD 15:5b–16:1a). On the one hand, the Community Rule and the 81  Daniel K. Falk, Daily, Sabbath, and Festival Prayers in the Dead Sea Scrolls, STDJ 27 (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 217–30, esp. 220, 228. 82  Although the confession in the Damascus Document is a variant of the one in the Community Rule, Falk has argued that they represent two versions of the same confession (Daily, Sabbath, and Festival Prayers, 227–28). There are salient differences, however. Most notably, the liturgical context is more developed in 1QS, where each initiate recalls God’s mercies and publicly confesses their sin in antiphonal performance. Moreover, initiates uttered “amen, amen” in antiphonal response to a series of blessings and curses by priests and Levites (1QS 1:20; 2:10, 18). 83  Falk, Daily, Sabbath, and Festival Prayers, 225. 84  Concerning the use of an “instrumentalized past” in oral performance, see Assmann, Religion and Cultural Memory, 24–25. 85  Assmann, Religion and Cultural Memory, 20. 86  For an excellent discussion on the rhetoric of identity formation in the covenant renewal ceremony, see Carol A. Newsom, The Self as Symbolic Space: Constructing Identity and Community at Qumran, STDJ 52 (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 117–27.

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Damascus Document contain different descriptions of the admission process. These types of variations, according to some scholars, reveal contrasting procedures between the Qumran Community (1QS) and outlying settlements (CD).87 On the other hand, the Community Rule incorporates multiple portrayals of the admission process. Some of these types of variations evidence a historical development of admission procedures.88 For example, as Hempel has persuasively argued, 1QS contains an “earlier piece of communal legislation” that was preserved alongside a “later and more elaborate procedure.”89 Similar to conflicting regulations, these divergent admission procedures appear side by side in the Community Rule because, as Metso proposes, the Community Rule is more of a record than a rulebook.90 In any case, the later admission procedures in the Community Rule entail an elaborate process involving multiple stages (1QS 6:13b–23).91 Admission procedures stipulate that each initiate must undergo oral examinations during meetings of the general membership to test one’s knowledge of sectarian regulations and the Torah (1QS 6:15, 18). Moreover, these oral examinations also functioned to educate initiates, so that they “shall be made to understand all the basic precepts of the Community” (‫[ והבינהו בכול משפטי היחד‬1QS 6:15]). Most importantly, the community vests oral performance during these meetings with enough authority that majority “opinion”—literally, “according to (their) mouth” (‫—)על פי‬settles full membership during admission ceremonies (1QS 6:19).92 The earlier, less elaborate admission requirements, according to Hempel’s study, centered on an oath in which each initiate swore to return to the Law of Moses “with all one’s heart and with all one’s mind” (1QS 5:7c–9a; CD 15:5b–10a):93 Every initiate into the party of the Yaḥad is to enter the covenant in full view of all the volunteers. He shall take upon himself a binding oath to return to the Law of Moses (according to all that he commanded) with 87  Schiffman, Reclaiming the Dead Sea Scrolls, 101; Philip R. Davies, “Who Can Join the ‘Damascus Covenant’?” JJS 46 (1995): 134–42, esp. 137. 88  Collins, Beyond the Qumran Community, 56–57. 89  Hempel, “Community Structures,” 72. 90  Metso, Serekh Texts, 70. 91  Additionally, admission of new members was at some point coupled with an annual reassessment of existing members (1QS 1:16–2:25a, 5:20b–24a). 92  For more on oral authority, see Chapter 2 §3. Concerning priestly authority vis-à-vis authority of “the many,” see pp. 105–6 below. 93  Hempel, “Community Structures,” 71.

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all his heart and with all his soul (‫ויקם על נפשו בשבועת אסר לשוב אל תורת‬ ‫)מושה ככול אשר צוה בכול לב ובכול נפש‬, to all that has been revealed from it to the Sons of Zadok (‫ … )לכול הנגלה ממנה לבני צדוק‬and [to] the majority of the men of their Covenant (‫)ולרוב אנשי בריתם‬. (1QS 5:7c–9a; cf. CD 15:5b–10a)94

Because members vowed to follow sectarian interpretation of the Law in the presence of the entire community (“all the volunteers” [‫)]כול המתנדבים‬, this oath functioned to socialize members into sectarian ways. In fact, this oath explicitly describes three obligations for the initiate related to socialization. First, the initiate swears to follow the “Law of Moses according to all that he commanded” (‫)תורת מושה ככול אשר צוה‬. Second, he swears to follow “all that has been revealed from it” to the priests and to the majority (‫לכול הנגלה‬ ‫)ממנה לבני צדוק הכוהנים‬. As pointed out by Michael A. Knibb, this oath therefore obligates the initiate to follow the law “as understood and interpreted by the community.”95 Overall, the admission procedures outlined above demonstrate a continuity of oral performance in the communities associated with the Scrolls. On the one hand, the admission procedures outlined in 1QS 6:13b–23 indicate that the authority and function of oral performance remained the same in more developed periods of community life. Congruent with the portrayal of the general membership meeting described in 1QS 6:8b–13a, oral performance continued to (1) teach sectarian regulations and (2) exercise binding authority in the proper performance arena. On the other hand, the admission procedures described in 1QS 5:7–9 outline the content of oral performance during an earlier stage of the communities. Whereas the confession of sins was likely practiced during a later period (see §‎1.4 above), the oath of admission assigns a crucial role to speech acts during an earlier period. Moreover, similar to later periods when members “read the Book” and “interpret the ruling” during nightly study sessions, this oath evidences an authoritative body of sectarian laws and Torah interpretation during an earlier period. 1.6 Meeting of Israel in the Last Days The beginning of the Rule of the Congregation (1QSa 1:1–6a) contains a vivid description of oral performance at a meeting for “all the congregation of Israel in the Last Days, when they are mobilized [to join the Yaḥad]” (1QSa 1:1).96 94  Wise, Abegg, and Cook, The Dead Sea Scrolls, 123. 95  Knibb, The Qumran Community, 109. 96  Wise, Abegg, and Cook, The Dead Sea Scrolls, 137.

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Before considering this portrayal of oral performance, however, I should briefly discuss the social context of 1QSa 1:1–5. Essential questions for understanding this passage are: (1) whether the regulations in the Rule of the Congregation pertain to a future messianic age as the title suggests or (2) whether they governed the actual practices (current or historical) of the communities associated with the Community Rule and the Damascus Document. In Hartmut Stegemann’s views, the Rule of the Congregation “was surely conceived as a binding congregational rule for its author’s present time,” as the sectarian movement regarded themselves as living during the last days.97 Moreover, according to Stegemann, the inclusion of laws regulating a number of impurities and physical defects contradicts a future time.98 Presumably, the future messianic age would be free from such imperfections. Even more broadly, Wise has recently argued that 1QSa 1:6–8, a section describing the education curriculum of children, reflects “training for Hebrew literacy” in “the whole of Judea.”99 Wise contends that the “antecedent patterns of priestly education” underlying 1QSa 1:6–8 indicate that this section “is probably more applicable to the whole of Judaea than its sectarian origins would initially suggest.”100 Others have challenged the view that regulations in 1QSa governed current or historical practices. According to Collins and Schiffman, for example, the presence of messiahs during community meetings indicates a future messianic age (1QSa 2:17–22).101 In addition, physical defects do not contradict a future time because, according to the sect’s eschatological views, some imperfections will persist during the messianic age.102 Thus, according to the prevailing view, community regulations in 1QSa were probably intended to govern Israel in a future time after the arrival of the messiahs.103 With these two main positions in mind, this debate over social setting is not necessarily between two alternatives—future or present—because, as Collins

97  Hartmut Stegemann, The Library of Qumran: On the Essenes, Qumran, John the Baptist, and Jesus (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 113. 98  Stegemann, The Library of Qumran, 113. 99  Wise, Language and Literacy in Roman Judaea, 308. 100  Wise, Language and Literacy in Roman Judaea, 308. 101  Lawrence H. Schiffman, The Eschatological Community of the Dead Sea Scrolls: A Study of the Rule of the Congregation, SBLMS 38 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1989), 8–9; Collins, Beyond the Qumran Community, 75. Collins’s argument draws on Annette Steudel’s study of the phrase “last days,” which indicates the coming of the messiahs is a future, awaited event (“‫ אחרית הימים‬in the Texts from Qumran,” RevQ 16 [1993]: 225–46, esp. 230). 102  Collins, Beyond the Qumran Community, 76. 103  Collins, Beyond the Qumran Community, 75–78.

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himself recognizes, some laws in 1QSa may have been practiced in the present.104 Although the authors of 1QSa may not have viewed themselves as living during the last days, they still could have seen themselves as enacting the order of the eschatological age.105 In addition, as pointed out by Collins, “The rules for all of Israel in the future would to a great degree correspond with the rules for a new covenant in the present, at least for those members who married and had children, as envisioned in the Damascus Rule.”106 Finally, Hempel argues that the composite nature of the Rule of the Congregation reveals multiple settings. The beginning (1QSa 1:1–6a) and end (1QSa 2:11b–22) of 1QSa belong to a future messianic setting. But the core of the document (1QSa 1:6–2:11), which treats education and offices of members (1QSa 1:6b–25a) and admission to community meetings (1QSa 1:25b–2:11a), reflects the practices of “the Essene parent movement of the Qumran community”—an incipient stage of the communities associated with the Scrolls behind some laws in the Damascus Document.107 For our purposes, one pertinent fact emerges from this debate: the beginning (1QSa 1:1–6a) of the Rule of the Congregation envisions the community in a future, messianic age. Although some of its laws may have been practiced in the present, 1QSa 1:1–6a primarily underscores the perennial importance of oral performance for the sectarian movement. Similar to the family life reflected in the Damascus Document, all members—including women and children— will be required to participate in oral performance during the messianic age (CD 15:5b–6a, 16:10–12). According to the author’s envisioned future, all men, women, and children must learn the regulations of the covenant through oral performance (1QSa 1:4–5). In fact, only impure and disabled members will be prohibited from oral performance during public assemblies (1QSa 2:3–10; cf. 4QDa [4Q266] 8 i 6–9).108 What’s more, consistent with portrayals of oral performance in the Community Rule, all newcomers will learn (1) community regulations and (2) Torah interpretation through oral performance at public assemblies: 104  Collins, Beyond the Qumran Community, 75–78; Lawrence H. Schiffman, “Rule of the Congregation,” EDSS 2:797–99. 105  Schiffman, “Rule of the Congregation,” 797. 106  Collins, Beyond the Qumran Community, 78. 107  Charlotte Hempel, The Qumran Rule Texts in Context: Collected Studies, TSAJ 154 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 62. In sum, Hempel argues that the final form of 1QSa is messianic, but its core represents early practices; moreover, this early core “may originally have existed independently” before being incorporated into its present eschatological setting (Qumran Rule Texts, 62). 108  In these cases, according to 1QSa, one could still participate indirectly through an oral deposition.

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As they arrive, all the newcomers shall be assembled—women and children included—and they shall read [a]ll the laws of the Covenant (‫)וקראו בא[וזניהמה] את [כ]ול חוקי הברית‬. They shall be indoctrinated in all their rulings (‫)ולהבינם בכול משפטיהמה‬, for fear that otherwise they may sin accidentally. (1QSa 1:4–5)109 Because the congregation hears the “laws of the Covenant” (‫ )חוקי הברית‬and learns all of “their rulings” (‫)משפטיהמה‬, the word “rulings” encompasses an authoritative body of laws different from the Torah.110 Like the ruling in the nightly study sessions, rulings are community regulations derived from interpretation of the Law.111 Moreover, the oral/aural nature of this performance is intimated by the phrase “read [a]ll the laws of the Covenant,” which literally translates “recite into [their] e[ars] [a]ll the laws of the Covenant.”112 As in Exodus 17:14, where the Lord commands Moses to write his commandment as a reminder in a book “and place it in the ears of Joshua” (‫)ושים באזני יהושע‬, the phrase “recite into their ears” describes both oral instruction and oral transmission. 2

Oral Performance of Leaders

According to Rule Texts, community leadership fell to specific offices or people—namely, the Maskil (‫)המשכיל‬, the Mebaqqer (‫)המבקר‬, and the Paqid (‫)האיש הפקיד‬. Extracting a description of the leadership’s oral performance from these three titles, however, is a difficult task. The redaction of Rule Texts and the historical developments of leaders’ roles convolute the portrayals of leaders’ oral performance. Moreover, descriptions in the Community Rule and the Damascus Document partly coalesce making it difficult to discern whether these titles refer to one, two or three offices. Some scholars argue that the Maskil and the Mebaqqer signify the same office, whereas others hold that

109  The translation is from DSSR 1:195, with minor changes. 110  Instead of the Torah, the “laws of the Covenant” could designate the laws of the sectarian covenant (Joseph M. Baumgarten, Studies in Qumran Law, SJLA 24 [Leiden: Brill, 1977], 15–16). In this case, however, the thrust of my argument remains sound: “their rulings” yet encompasses an authoritative body of law, which is distinguished from the Torah and taught through oral performance. 111  According to Schiffman, both the singular “ruling” (‫ )משפט‬and the plural “rulings” (‫ )משפטים‬refer to sectarian laws (Halakhah at Qumran, 42–44). See also Fraade, “Studying Community at Qumran,” 66–67. 112  The literal translation is mine.

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they are distinct offices.113 Additionally, some identify the Mebaqqer with the Paqid.114 Overlapping responsibilities have even led a few to conclude that the Maskil, the Mebaqqer, and the Paqid designate the same person or office.115 With these difficulties in mind, I nonetheless argue that the portrayals of the Maskil, the Mebaqqer, and the Paqid remain sufficiently divergent to distinguish three leadership offices with distinctive performance roles. 2.1 Maskil The Maskil predominantly occurs in headings of both the Community Rule and the Damascus Document. As will become apparent, however, my description of the Maskil’s oral performance relies almost exclusively on the Community Rule. The Damascus Document provides very little information because the term Maskil only occurs in the headings of heavily redacted passages, which deal with regulations for the Mebaqqer and for the camps.116 As Hempel has convincingly shown, “traditions on the duties of the Maskil have become merged with traditions on the Mebaqqer” so that it is no longer possible to determine which duties were addressed to the Maskil.117 Only remnants of Maskil traditions remain—remnants perhaps derived from an originally independent source describing the Maskil’s duties (CD 12:20b–22a; 13:7c–8, 14–15a).118 Literary development also obscures the performance role of the Maskil in the Community Rule. As indicated by both Metso and Hempel, the Maskil material in the Community Rule seems to reflect both earlier and later periods in 113  For studies that consider them to be the same office, see Carol A. Newsom, “The Sage in the Literature of Qumran: The Functions of the Maskîl,” in The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, ed. John G. Gammie and Leo G. Perdue (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1990), 373–82, esp. 375; Schofield, From Qumran to the Yaḥad, 155; Knibb, The Qumran Community, 118, 121; Collins, Beyond the Qumran Community, 25. For studies that consider them to be distinct offices, see Hempel, “Community Structures,” 81–82; Metso, Textual Development, 136–37 n.92. 114  Frank Moore Cross, The Ancient Library of Qumran, 3rd ed. (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1995), 167; Metso, Textual Development, 136–37 n.92; Leaney, Rule of Qumran, 195–96. 115  Géza Vermes, An Introduction to the Complete Dead Sea Scrolls (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2000), 112; Florentino García Martínez and Julio Trebolle Barrera, The People of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Their Writings, Beliefs, and Practices (Leiden: Brill, 1995), 57. 116  Metso, “Qumran Community Structure,” 439; Hempel, Qumran Rule Texts, 164. For example, CD 12:20b–22a begins with “these are the rules for the Maskil,” but the subsequent regulations pertain instead to the camps (CD 12:22b–13:7a) or the Mebaqqer (CD 13:7b–12a). 117  Charlotte Hempel, The Laws of the Damascus Document: Sources, Tradition and Redaction, STDJ 29 (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 106. See also Collins, Beyond the Qumran Community, 25, 55. 118  Hempel, Laws of the Damascus Document, 105–6, 118–21, 123–25, 150; eadem, Qumran Rule Texts, 247.

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the community. On the one hand, in a block of material outlining “the rules for the Maskil” (1QS 9:12–26a), two headings mention the Maskil (1QS 9:12, 21). According to Hempel, some of this section comprises incipient, perhaps even “pre-sectarian,” traditions associated with the Maskil.119 On the other hand, as pointed out by Metso, editors introduced references to the Maskil during later stages of the Community Rule’s literary development. For example, the teaching of the two spirits (1QS 3:13–4:26), an esoteric discussion of the two spirits that control all mankind, is addressed to the Maskil (1QS 3:13). In this case, the Maskil was later associated with originally independent material in order to “provide a better context for the insertion of the passage.”120 Overall, this tapestry of earlier traditions and later editorial redaction suggests that the Maskil was a leadership office over a long period of time, from an incipient period to more developed stages reflected in the final literary form of the Community Rule.121 The ending of the Community Rule provides the most insights into the Maskil’s oral performance (1QS 9:12–11:22). The ending is composed of several independent units, probably recycled from other contexts.122 Beginning at 1QS 9:12, a section titled “the rules for the Maskil” (‫ )אלה החוקים למשכיל‬contains third-person instructions addressed to the Maskil (1QS 9:12–26a).123 These instructions contain the clearest account of the Maskil’s duties and functions in the Community Rule. According to these rules for the Maskil, his duties include studying “all the wise legal findings” (‫ )כול השכל‬of earlier times and every “statute” (‫ )חוק‬of the present (1QS 9:13–14). But he should reserve his knowledge for instructing members rather than reproaching opponents—namely, all outsiders to the community (1QS 9:16–18). In particular, he is commanded to teach his authoritative understanding of the “wonderful mysteries” (‫)רזי פלא‬,

119  Hempel, Qumran Rule Texts, 167, 247–251. 120  Metso, Textual Development, 145. As Metso also states, “A special duty of the Maskil is to teach the doctrine of the two spirits (1QS 3:13–4:26)” (Textual Development, 137 n.92). Similarly, two Cave 4 MSS (4QSb [4Q256] and 4QSd [4Q258]) entitle a section “a midrash for the Maskil.” Amongst other differences, the parallel passage in the Cave 1 MS of the Community Rule lacks the title (1QS 5:1–20). This section contains rules of conduct for the community, which were later associated with the Maskil’s teaching. 121  Similarly, the contemporization of laws related to the Maskil implies that the Maskil was not a unique individual who lived in one historical period, but rather an office filled by different individuals who were “guided by the precept appropriate to each period” (cf. 1QS 9:12–14). 122  Newsom, Self as Symbolic Space, 167. 123  My division of the end of the Community Rule follows Metso, Textual Development, 117–120.

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a designation for esoteric knowledge concerning the true meaning of God’s acts (1QS 9:18).124 Subsequent to “the rules for the Maskil,” not all copies of the Community Rule end in the same manner. In one Cave 4 copy (4QSe [4Q259]), a calendric teaching concerning intercalation (4QOtot [4Q319]) concludes the Community Rule. In all other copies that contain the ending of the Community Rule, however, a calendar of prayer times (1QS 9:26b–10:8a) and a first-person hymn (1QS 10:8b–11:22) concludes the Community Rule.125 The calendar of prayer times and the final psalm were originally independent.126 After their incorporation into the ending of the Community Rule, however, they became associated with the office of the Maskil (1QS 9:12–26a). In addition, as noted by Falk, “The hymn mirrors the themes introduced in 9:12–26 as the Maskil’s responsibilities: judgment, knowledge, right relations with others, and ordained times and zeal for God’s will.”127 Overall, the final hymn provides a glimpse at the Maskil’s oral performance, at least how it was understood by the final editors of 1QS, 4QSb [4Q256], 4QSd [4Q258], 4QSf [4Q260], and 4QSj [4Q264].128 And like the thanksgiving hymns associated with the Maskil in the Hodayot, the final hymn suggests that his oral performance included singing, music, recitation, thanksgivings, psalms, and instruction.129 124  Samuel I. Thomas, The “Mysteries” of Qumran: Mystery, Secrecy, and Esotericism in the Dead Sea Scrolls, SBLEJL 25 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2009), 144–47. 125  For the sake of consistency, my division of the final psalm follows Metso, Textual Development, 119, 142. Alternatively, it is quite possible that the beginning of the hymn is marked by a vacat in 1QS 10:5 or by first-person speech in 1QS 10:6. See Newsom, Self as Symbolic Space, 168; DJD 26:119; Leaney, Rule of Qumran, 234. 126  Metso, Textual Development, 119, 142; DJD 26:119. 127  Falk, Daily, Sabbath, and Festival Prayers, 103–4. 128  Four hymns in the Hodayot are prescribed “for the Maskil”: 1QHa 5:12 (hodayah 5:12–6:33), 1QHa 7:21 (hodayah 7:21–8:41), 1QHa 20:7 (hodayah 20:7–22:42), 1QHa 25:34 (hodayah 25:34– 27:3). As has been noted, the rhetoric of this final psalm is very similar to the portrayal of an ideal leader in the Hodayot. See Newsom, Self as Symbolic Space, 169–74; Judith H. Newman, “The Thanksgiving Hymns of 1QHa and the Construction of the Ideal Sage through Liturgical Performance,” in Sibyls, Scriptures, and Scrolls: John Collins at Seventy, ed. Joel Baden, Hindy Najman, and Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar, JSJSup 175 (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 940–57, esp. 940–41. 129  Cf. “with knowledge shall I sing out my music, only for the glory of God” (‫אזמרה בדעת‬ ‫ )וכול נגינתי לכבוד אל‬in 1QS 10:9 for “singing” and “music.” Cf. “I will recite his laws” (‫ )אמר חוקיו‬in 1QS 10:10 for “recitation.” Cf. “with thanksgivings shall I open my mouth” (‫ )בהודות אפתח פי‬in 1QS 10:23 for “thanksgivings.” Cf. “on my tongue shall the statute be engraved—with praise its fruit” (‫ )ובכול היותי חוק חרות בלשוני לפרי תהילה‬in 1QS 10:8 for “psalms.” Cf. “instructing those who murmur with wisdom” (‫ )ולהשכיל רוכנים בלקח‬in 1QS 11:1 for “instruction.”

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Broadly speaking, the ending of the Community Rule describes a twofold function of the Maskil’s oral performance. First, the instructions for the Maskil (1QS 9:12–26a) portray the Maskil as an authoritative teacher, who is expected to educate community members with his God-given, expert knowledge. The Teacher’s wide-ranging pedagogy covers sectarian regulations, interpretation of the Law, and esoteric knowledge (1QS 9:13–14, 17–18).130 Moreover, God has bestowed upon him knowledge concerning sacred times (i.e., the liturgical calendar) and the spiritual qualities of men (1QS 3:13–15; 9:12–19, 21–26; see also 3:13–15). Last, he has the knowledge and authority to station members in their appropriate position within the community’s hierarchical ranking: “In each case he shall decide what a man’s spiritual qualities mandate, letting him enter the Yaḥad if his virtue and understanding of the Law measure up. By the same standard he shall determine each man’s rank” (1QS 9:15–16).131 Second, the final hymn (1QS 10:8b–11:22) and instructions for the Maskil (1QS 9:12–26a) depict the Maskil as a liturgical master responsible for the oral performance of speech acts, praise, and worship. In the instructions for the Maskil (1QS 9:12–26a), for example, the Maskil is commanded to “bless” and “re­count” (1QS 9:26a). Similarly, “the hymn of the Maskil” and attached calendar of prayer times (1QS 9:26b–10:8a) include a list of the occasions when he prays or blesses with the offering of his lips (‫( )[תרומת] שפתים יברכנו‬1QS 9:26b; cf. also 10:6). Moreover, the Maskil’s performance is explicitly described as worship (1QS 10:8–9, 23). In 1QS 10:23, the Maskil sings “thanksgiving hymns”—the exact word that also appears in the incipits of a few hodayot: “With thanksgiv­ ing hymns (‫ )בהודות‬shall I open my mouth, the righteousness of God shall my tongue recount always” (cf. 1QHa 19:7, 36; 20:7).132 And in 1QS 10:8, the Maskil praises God with a “psalm”: “While I live, on my tongue shall the statute be engraved—with praise [literally, ‘a psalm’] its fruit” (‫ובכול היותי חוק חרות בלשוני‬ ‫)לפרי תהלה‬.133 2.2 Mebaqqer Outside of one occurrence in a fragmentary text discussing initiation procedures (4Q275), only the Damascus Document and the Community Rule mention 130  Cf. “insight into the law” (‫ )עצת התורה‬and “instruction of mysteries of wonder” (‫להשכילם‬ ‫ )ברזי פלא‬in 1QS 9:17–18. 131  Wise, Abegg, and Cook, The Dead Sea Scrolls, 131. For a more detailed explanation of the Maskil’s role in the admission process, see Newsom, Self as Symbolic Space, 277–86. For a comparison of the Maskil’s and Mebaqqer’s authority to determine hierarchical ranking within the community, see §‎2.2 below. 132  D SSR 1:39. 133  D SSR 1:39.

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the leadership office of the Mebaqqer (“Overseer”). Since the Mebaqqer has a more central role in the Damascus Document than in the Community Rule, my description will chiefly rely on portrayals in the Damascus Document. Generally speaking, the Mebaqqer’s duties concentrate on three areas: admission to and hierarchal arrangement of the community (CD 13:13, 15:8–14), administration of finances and supervision of trade (1QS 6:20; CD 13:16, 14:13), and governance of meetings (CD 9:18–22, 14:11–12).134 Six different constructions with Mebaqqer occur in the Damascus Document (CD) and the Community Rule (1QS), five of which illustrate his leading role in the organization of the community: “the Mebaqqer” (‫;המבקר‬ CD 13:6; 14:13; 15:11, 14), “the man who is the Mebaqqer over the many” (‫האיש‬ ‫ ;המבקר על הרבים‬1QS 6:12, 20), “the Mebaqqer who is over the many” (‫המבקר‬ ‫ ;אשר לרבים‬CD 15:8), “the Mebaqqer over the camp” (‫ ;המבקר למחנה‬CD 13:7), “the Mebaqqer who is over the camp” (‫ ;המבקר אשר למחנה‬CD 13:13), and “the man who is the Mebaqqer over the community” (‫ ;האיש המבקר על היחד‬4Q265 4 ii 5–6). As these titles encapsulate, the Mebaqqer’s leadership office exercised authority over the general membership (e.g., “the many” ‫)הרבים‬, including those living in villages outside the Qumran settlement (e.g., “camp” ‫)מחנה‬.135 The “rule for the Mebaqqer of the camp” (CD 13:7–20) provides an insightful springboard for my explanation of the Mebaqqer’s oral performance. According to this section in the Damascus Document, the Mebaqqer “observes” (‫)יפקדהו‬ each postulant’s knowledge so that he can enroll each newcomer into the community with an appropriate rank (CD 13:11–12). The verb “observe” therefore refers to the registration process, part of which included an oral examination by the Mebaqqer in order to determine an initiate’s rank within community hierarchy (CD 15:11). The Mebaqqer’s registration is detailed more fully in CD 15:7–15, where the same verb is used (‫ )יפקדוהו‬to describe an enrollment, oath, and oral examination. According to CD 15:7–15, the Mebaqqer’s oral examination covers both the “Law of Moses” (‫ )תורת משה‬and sectarian regulations, that is, “and everything that is revealed from the Law” (‫וכל אשר נגלה מן‬ ‫)התורה‬. In this manner, the function of the Mebaqqer’s oral performance extends into the realm of community organization. Some scholars, such as Géza Vermes and Collins, have argued that Maskil and Mebaqqer signify the same office, whereas other scholars hold that

134  Hempel, “Community Structures,” 81. 135  For an explanation of “the many” and “camp,” see Metso, “Qumran Community Structure,” 434–35, 440–41.

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they are distinct offices.136 The main evidence for Vermes’s position derives from the similar roles of the Maskil and the Mebaqqer in the admission process. Apparently, they both could determine the rank of initiates (compare 1QS 9:12–16 with CD 13:11–12, 15:7–12). Moreover, as argued by Vermes, the Maskil and the Mebaqqer appear to have a similar basis of authority for establishing community hierarchy: esoteric, spiritual knowledge (compare 1QS 9:12–16 with CD 13:12, 14:9–10).137 What gives rise to these similarities? The Mebaqqer may have taken over some of the Maskil’s responsibilities.138 In addition, the Mebaqqer and the Maskil had similar authority and overlapping responsibilities. Indeed, it appears that both the Maskil and the Mebaqqer had authority to station members in community; nevertheless, they maintained distinct roles in the admission process. The Maskil was a spiritual judge and the Mebaqqer was an administrative gatekeeper.139 According to the Community Rule (1QS 9:12–16), the Maskil admits an initiate to the community—literally, “lets him draw near” (‫ לקרבו‬and ‫)להגישו‬. The Maskil’s decision for entry is based on an initiate’s spiritual qualities—literally, “according to his spirit” (‫)כרוחו‬. In the Damascus Document (CD 13:11–12, 15:7–12), however, different verbs are used to describe the Mebaqqer’s responsibilities. The Mebaqqer “observes” (‫ )יפקדהו‬initiates and “inscribes” (‫ )וכתבוהו‬their rank. Moreover, the Mebaqqer’s enrollment is not based on spiritual qualities but upon an initiate’s “works” (‫)למעשיו‬, “intelligence” (‫)ושוכלו‬, “strength” (‫)וכוחו‬, and “wealth” (‫)וגבורתו‬. Contrary to Vermes, the Mebaqqer’s knowledge of “every secret of men and of every deceptive utterance” (CD 14:9–10) alludes to the Mebaqqer’s oral interlocution of initiates, not his insight into the spiritual qualities of people.140 The Mebaqqer must know “every secret of men” so that he will not be duped when he examines initiates (CD 15:11). The Mebaqqer is therefore an administrative gatekeeper, who oversees and records all ingress to and egress from the community.141 He administers curses 136  For studies that consider them to be the same office, see Vermes, An Introduction to the Complete Dead Sea Scrolls, 112; Schofield, From Qumran to the Yaḥad, 155; Knibb, The Qumran Community, 118, 121; Collins, Beyond the Qumran Community, 25. For studies that consider them to be distinct offices, see Hempel, “Community Structures,” 81–82; Metso, Textual Development, 136–37 n.92). 137  Vermes, An Introduction to the Complete Dead Sea Scrolls, 112. 138  Hempel, Qumran Rule Texts, 168. 139  Newsom, Self as Symbolic Space, 295–97. 140  Vermes, An Introduction to the Complete Dead Sea Scrolls, 112. 141  “Ingress” includes economic transactions with non-sectarians, too: “No members of the camp are allowed to bring anyone into the group except by permission of the Mebaqqer of the camp; and none of the members of God’s covenant should do business with corrupt

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during the covenant renewal ceremony (4Q275 3 3) and oaths of initiation during the admission process (CD 15:7–13). As I outlined above, the Mebaqqer orally examines (CD 15:7–12) and inscribes (CD 13:12) initiates into their proper rank within the community (i.e., “writes him [i.e., the postulant] in his place” [‫)]וכתבוהו במקומו‬. The Mebaqqer witnesses oral testimony regarding legal violations and produces a handwritten record (CD 9:18–22). Subsequent to the expulsion ceremony, the Mebaqqer records the sentences of those formally ejected from the community (4Q266 11 16). The Damascus Document also describes the Mebaqqer as an authoritative teacher. According to the rules for the Mebaqqer, for example, he is responsible for communal, oral instruction: “He instructs the many in the works of God and recounts before them the interpretation of all history” (CD 13:7–8).142 Yet, in distinction to the Maskil, the Mebaqqer’s oral teaching is framed by his administrative role. The Mebaqqer oversees instruction in the communities associated with the Scrolls. He has the authority to guide priests regarding correct interpretation of Law (‫ ;בפרוש התורה‬CD 13:6). The Mebaqqer presides at community meetings where sectarian regulations (i.e., the “ruling”) are taught and legal disputes are settled (1QS 6:9–12; CD 14:11–12). Members enter the congregation “according to his command”—that is, literally, “according to his mouth” (‫ ;על פיהו‬CD 14:10). This speech act both convenes assemblies and establishes hierarchy of speaking during meetings (CD 14:10–11).143 All members must receive his permission to speak, and all discussion must begin with him (1QS 6:11–12; CD 14:11–12). During the admission process, the Mebaqqer is not described as teaching initiates. Rather, he tells them their deficiencies and commands them to study: “Everything that is revealed from the Law for the multitude of the Camp, and in which he (the postulant) has imperfect knowledge, the Mebaqqer should tell him and command him to study” (CD 15:14–15).144 Essentially, the Mebaqqer oversees an initiate’s education by voicing a tailored study curriculum that addresses their deficient knowledge of Torah and sectarian regulations.

people, except hand to hand. No one should do any buying or selling unless he has informed the Mebaqqer who is in the camp and taken counsel (with him)” (CD 13:12–16). Wise, Abegg, and Cook, The Dead Sea Scrolls, 68. 142  The phrase “recounts before them” (‫ )ויספר לפניהם‬specifies the oral character of his pedagogy, which takes place in the physical presence of the community. 143  Schiffman, Reclaiming the Dead Sea Scrolls, 122. 144  Wise, Abegg, and Cook, The Dead Sea Scrolls, 68.

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2.3 Paqid The Paqid is obscured by scanty reference in the Scrolls and by apparent conflation with the Mebaqqer. The Paqid is mentioned five times in four different constructions, half of which do not explicitly mention the office of the Paqid: “the priest who presides at the head of the many” (‫והכהן אשר יפקד‬ ‫ ;בראש הרבים‬CD 14:6–7), “the man who is the Paqid at the head of the many” (‫ ;האיש הפקיד ברואש הרבים‬1QS 6:14), “the priest who is [the Pa]qid at the head [of the many]” (]‫ ;הכוהן [הף]קיד ברואש [הרבים‬4Q289 1 4), and “the priest who presides over the many” (‫ ;הכוהן המופקד על הרבים‬4Q266 11 8; cf. also 4Q270 7 i 16). According to several scholars, the Paqid and Mebaqqer are synonymous titles.145 This view is based on three points of interpretation, each of which deserves a brief explanation. First, according to this view, the Paqid and Mebaqqer occur as parallel expressions in one explicit reference to the office of the Paqid (compare 1QS 6:12 with 1QS 6:14). According to Metso, for example, both the Paqid and the Mebaqqer appear “at the head of the rabbim” [i.e., “the many”] in these passages.146 Contrary to Metso, however, 1QS 6:14 describes the Paqid, not the Mebaqqer; moreover, 1QS 6:12 describes the Mebaqqer as “over the many” (‫)על הרבים‬, not “at the head of the many” (‫)ברואש הרבים‬. In fact, the Mebaqqer is nowhere named as a leader “at the head of the many.” Instead, this title is reserved for the Paqid alone (CD 14:7; 1QS 6:14; 4Q289 1 4). In addition, only the Paqid is explicitly described as a priest at the head of the many. Indeed, the Paqid is almost always described as a priest, whereas the Mebaqqer is never designated as a priest. 4Q289 1 4, for example, specifies: “the priest who is [the Pa]qid at the head of [the many]” (see also 1QS 6:14). Second, according to this view, the verb paqad (‫—)פקד‬the verbal form of the noun Paqid—also describes the Mebaqqer’s actions, thereby linking the two offices (e.g., CD 13:11, 15:8). In CD 13:11, for example, the verb paqad describes the Mebaqqer’s oral examination and ranking of new members: “He shall observe (‫ )יפקדהו‬everyone who is added to his group as to his actions, his intelligence, his ability, his strength, and his wealth” (CD 13:11; cf. 1QS 6:21).147 But elsewhere the verb paqad describes the oral examination of initiates 145  Metso, “Qumran Community Structure,” 439–40; Knibb, The Qumran Community, 118; Leaney, Rule of Qumran, 195–96; Cross, The Ancient Library of Qumran, 167–76. 146  Metso, Textual Development, 136. According to Metso, “The paqid is named as being a person at the head of the rabbim whose task it is to examine persons wishing to become members of the community and to teach them the rules of community life (1QS 6:14–15). Also, the Mebaqqer appears at the head of the rabbim (1QS 6:12)” (Textual Development, 136 n.92). 147  Wise, Abegg, and Cook, The Dead Sea Scrolls, 74.

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performed by “the majority of Israel,” “the many,” and “the sons of Aaron” (1QS 5:20–24, 6:21). Oral examination of initiates expressed with the verb paqad is exclusive to neither the Mebaqqer nor the Paqid. Third, some of the Paqid’s and the Mebaqqer’s responsibilities overlap, ostensibly portraying one office instead of two (CD 13:8–13; 1QS 6:14–16). For example, both the Paqid and the Mebaqqer (1) administer the oath of initiation (1QS 6:14–15; CD 15:12) and (2) examine initiates with regard to their understanding and works (1QS 6:14; CD 13:11). The differences between the responsibilities of the Paqid and Mebaqqer, however, outweigh the similarities. On the one hand, the scope of the Paqid’s oral performance is narrower. The Paqid initiates, examines, and instructs postulants (1QS 6:14–15), whereas the Mebaqqer initiates, examines, instructs, ranks, records, and expels members (CD 13:11–12, 15:7–9). Concerning discharge from the community, the Paqid performs the blessings of the expulsion ceremony; the Mebaqqer, however, ratifies the expulsion and sentences the guilty through a written record (4Q266 11 7–16): “And his sentence is written down by the Mebaqqer’s hand, as an engraving, and his judgment will be complete” (4Q266 11 16).148 On the other hand, the Mebaqqer carries more authority in matters of membership than the Paqid. This becomes especially clear when compared with the authority of “the many.” According to 1QS 6:14–16, for example, the authority of “the many” is superior to the Paqid in matters of final decisions of full membership. But according to CD 15:7–15, the relationship between the Mebaqqer and “the many” seems to be the other way around. From Metso’s perspective, the Community Rule and the Damascus Document describe the same office differently.149 In light of the differences described above, however, it seems more likely that this discrepancy reflects two different offices. Overall, the Paqid was a priest at the head of the entire community. Because the community consisted of both priests and laymen, we could think of the 148  Florentino García Martínez and Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar, The Dead Sea Scrolls Study Edition, 2 vols. (Leiden: Brill, 1997–1998), 1:597. In 4Q266 11 7–16, the Paqid is commanded to speak to the expelled, but the content of his speech is a blessing directed to God rather than a curse directed to a violator. His blessing affirms the divine origin of the community precepts. But nowhere in this blessing does the Paqid actually discharge the offender. Instead, the sentencing is under the jurisdiction of the Mebaqqer. 149  According to Metso, “We see a difference between the Community Rule and the Damascus Document: according to the Community Rule the group of ‫ הרבים‬is superior to ‫המבקר‬ in matters related to the new members (see esp. 1QS 6:13–23, where the final decision is made by the authority of ‫הרבים‬, not by ‫)המבקר‬. In the Damascus Document the relationship between the two seems to be the reverse: The Mebaqqer has a more important role in accepting a new member (CD 15:7–15), and it is the duty of ‫ המבקר‬to instruct ‫הרבים‬ (CD 13:7)” (“Qumran Community Structure,” 441).

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Paqid as a “head priest.” I do not intend to convey the notion of “high priest,” the chief priest of the messianic age or the restored temple.150 Rather, the Paqid sat quite literally “at the head” of “the many” during meetings. According to the Community Rule, priests sat in the first row of meetings; moreover, according to the description of the annual review of membership, priests sat one after another according to their rank (1QS 2:19–20, 8:8–13). Therefore, the highest-ranking priest would sit in the first place of the first row—i.e., “at the head of the many.” The content of his oral performance covered a wide range of activities, including examination, instruction, and liturgical blessings. As he was a priest, the Paqid’s oral performance coincides with the oral performance of priests. The Paqid, for example, joined other priests in pronouncing blessings during initiation and covenant renewal ceremonies (4Q289 1 4; 1QS 1:18–19). The Paqid also pronounced blessings during the expulsion ceremony (4Q266 11 8–9).151 Some of his responsibilities could also be performed by the office of the Mebaqqer, such as the oral examination of prospective members.152 But the primary domain of the Mebaqqer’s oral performance was governance and administration, while the Paqid—similar to priests—focused on liturgical performance and oral pedagogy of both Torah and regulations.153 According to the Damascus Document, for example, the Paqid was learned in the “Book of Meditation” (CD 14:7–8; cf. CD 13:2) and the “regulations of the Law” (CD 14:8; cf. CD 13:6). The “Book of Meditation” (‫ )ספר ההגי‬is probably a reference to the Torah, and “regulations of the Law” (‫)משפטי התורה‬ describes sectarian interpretation.154 Because the Paqid also knew how to “speak” these regulations “according to their (proper) interpretation” (CD 14:8; 150  Concerning the “high priest,” see Robert A. Kugler, “Priests,” EDSS 2:688–93, esp. 688. 151  For a description of the expulsion ceremony, see Hempel, Laws of the Damascus Document, 175–85. 152  As noted by Robert A. Kugler, some of the Mebaqqer’s duties are comparable to a priest’s tasks: “He judges disputes (CD 9:17–22; 14:11–12), instructs the community in God’s deeds (CD 13:8), [and] passes judgment on new initiates (CD 13:11–12)” (“Priests,” 2:689). 153  The liturgical performance of the Paqid and the Mebaqqer are distinct. The Paqid pronounces blessings during the initiation and expulsion ceremony (4Q289 1 4; 4Q266 11 8), while the Mebaqqer issues curses during the covenant renewal ceremony (4Q275 3 3). The Paqid’s emphasis on blessings is consonant with the description of priestly liturgical performance, which centers on blessings rather than curses (see §‎2.4 below). 154  Although the identification of the “Book of Meditation” is debated, most scholars hold that it refers to the Torah. See Steven D. Fraade, “Hagu, Book of,” EDSS 1:327; Isaac Rabinowitz, “The Qumran Authors’ SPR HHGW/Y,” JNES 20 (1961): 109–14; Schiffman, The Halakhah at Qumran, 44. Concerning the interpretation that the “Book of Meditation” refers to sectarian regulations, see Moshe H. Goshen-Gottstein, “‘Sefer Hagu’: The End of a Puzzle,” VT 8 (1958): 286–88.

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‫)לדברם כמשפטם‬, this passage describes a body of orally instructed, sectarian

interpretation of Law. In a similar vein, according to 1QS 6:15, the Paqid teaches “the precepts of the community” (‫ )משפטי היחד‬to initiates. Overall, the Paqid’s leadership office witnesses the integral role of oral pedagogy for community members, particularly for postulants. 2.4 Priests and Judges Rule Texts also describe various leadership groups such as priests and judges. Judges are only mentioned in the Damascus Document (CD) and in the Rule of the Congregation (1QSa). According to the hierarchy of the messianic age envisioned in the Rule of the Congregation, judges are members rather than leaders (1QSa 1:15, 24, 29).155 In the Damascus Document, however, judges are depicted as leaders who administer justice and finance. The qualifications described in “the rule for the judges of the community” stipulates that a group of ten judges should be composed of both priests and laymen learned in the “Book of Meditation” and the basic principles of the covenant (CD 10:4–6). Beyond these basic regulations, much about their role in community life remains unclear. Perhaps, as Vermes suggests, judges heard cases in towns outside of the Qumran settlement.156 According to CD 14:13–14, judges manage money designated for the needy living in camps outside Qumran. Concerning oral performance, judges specialized in vows, oaths, and oral testimony. For example, judges administer oaths (CD 9:9–10) and swear people in as ini­ tiates (CD 15:3–4); moreover, judges listen to oral testimony of witnesses (CD 10:1–3//4Q270 4 iv 13–15) and arbitrate legal and illegal vows (CD 16:19). Although the title “priest” appears around three hundred times in the Scrolls, the vast majority of occurrences shed no light upon priestly leadership. In my discussion below, I am therefore concerned only with those passages in Rule Texts where priests are explicitly given a leadership role involving some form of oral performance. Further complicating my task, Rule Texts assign leadership to three groups of priests: “priests,” “sons of Zadok,” and “sons of Aaron.” Unfortunately, these priestly groups often coalesce, and one can hardly distinguish their specific responsibilities. For example, both the “sons of Aaron” and “sons of Zadok” have oversight over sectarian interpretation of Law, precepts of the community, and community wealth (1QS 5:1–4, 9:7–11). Overall, as many

155  Hempel, “Community Structures,” 82. 156  Vermes, An Introduction to the Complete Dead Sea Scrolls, 105.

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scholars have concluded, “the sons of Zadok” and “sons of Aaron” appear to be used interchangeably, both referring to priests.157 The oral performance of priests covers four areas. First, priests heard the oral confession of members regarding infractions of sectarian regulations (CD 9:13; 1QS 5:2). Second, priests directed oral pedagogy during community meetings. Thus, a priest learned in the “Book of Meditation” must always be present at study sessions, which were managed “according to his (verbal) command” (‫( )על פיהו‬CD 13:2–3). Likewise, priests were preeminent in the hierarchy of speaking at general assemblies (CD 14:3–6; 1QS 6:8–13). Priests both taught and regulated sectarian regulations and proper interpretation of Torah (1QS 9:7–10). Third, priests performed liturgical oral performance during community meals, initiation ceremonies, and covenant renewal ceremonies. Blessings constituted a very important component of priestly performance. During the initiation ceremony, the priest rehearsed God’s acts (1QS 1:21–22) and pronounced antiphonal blessings (1QS 1:18–19, 2:1ff).158 And priests partook first of the community meal only after blessing the food and drink (1QS 6:3–5).159 Fourth, priests took part in the oral examination of initiates together with “the many” during community meetings (1QS 5:21). 3 Conclusion Although this sketch of oral performance in the sectarian communities associated with the Dead Sea Scrolls is hardly exhaustive, it nonetheless pictures a rich verbal culture that interweaves performance into the fabric of 157  Kugler, “Priests,” 2:688–89; Knibb, The Qumran Community, 105; Cana Werman, “The Sons of Zadok,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls Fifty Years after Their Discovery: Proceedings of the Jerusalem Congress, July 20–25, 1997, ed. Lawrence H. Schiffman, Emanuel Tov, and James C. VanderKam (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2000), 623–30, esp. 627–28; Jacob Licht, The Rule Scroll: A Scroll from the Wilderness of Judaea (Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1965), 114 (Hebrew). For the view that the “sons of Zadok” refer to ordinary members of the community, see Philip R. Davies, The Damascus Covenant: An Interpretation of the “Damascus Document,” JSOTSup 25 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1983), 95; Shemaryahu Talmon, The World of Qumran from Within: Collected Studies (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1989), 276; Werman, “The Sons of Zadok,” 628. 158  Priests also issue curses together with the Levites, and Levites issue blessings together with priests (1QS 1:18–19, 2:11). When priests speak alone during the ceremony, however, they always utter blessings. 159  The prominent place of blessings in priestly performance is also illustrated by the Rule of the Congregation (1QSa), where the priest has more authority to bless the community meal than the future Messiahs (1QSa 2:19).

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each member’s daily existence. This rich verbal culture invites us to imagine an influential place for oral performance in our vision of a day in the life of Ḥananiah Notos. For ordinary members such as Ḥananiah, a tight grid of community laws regulated speech, particularly during certain cultural perfor­ mances such as the general membership meeting (1QS 6:8b–13a; CD 14:3b–12a). Oral performance during community meetings functioned to (1) adjudicate legal disputes, (2) transmit oral-written sectarian regulations, (3) instruct proper interpretation of authoritative texts, and (4) facilitate socialization and identity formation. Oral performance consistently played a vital role in members’ lives, wherever and whenever they lived. In my analysis of local chapter meetings (1QS 6:1b–7a), nightly study sessions (1QS 6:7b–8a), and general membership meetings (1QS 6:8b–13a; CD 14:3b–12a), I established that oral performance played a crucial role for members, whether they lived at Qumran or at outlying settlements. Additionally, my analysis of admission procedures (1QS 5:7c–9a, 6:13b–23; CD 15:5b–10a), general membership meetings (1QS 6:8b–13a; CD 14:3b–12a), nightly study sessions (1QS 6:7b–8a), and covenant renewal ceremonies (1QS 1:24–26; CD 20:27–30) demonstrated a measure of continuity between relative (earlier and later) historical periods of the sectarian communities associated with the Dead Sea Scrolls. Although the composite nature of Rule Texts witnesses a development of community meetings, the content of oral performance remained relatively uniform during earlier and later stages of the sectarian movement. The content of oral performance during community meetings included law, sectarian regulations, and various speech acts (e.g., oaths, prayer, and confessions). According to the meeting of “Israel in the last days” (1QSa 1:1–6a), this historical continuity even extended into the envisioned future of these communities, when oral performance would continue to play an essential role in the indoctrination of community regulations and Torah interpretation for all members. Rule texts do not merely reveal that oral performance transpired; they foreground the vital role oral performance played in the processes of education, worship, and socialization. The oral performance of leaders was crucial for these processes. The Maskil was an authoritative teacher and liturgical master, who led the pedagogy of community members and orchestrated the performance of communal worship. Rule Texts portray the Maskil as a teacher par excellence, who utilized oral performance to instruct esoteric knowledge, sectarian regulations, and Torah interpretation. His God-given knowledge gave him insight into the spiritual qualities of people and the authority to place new members into their proper hierarchical ranking within the community. Compared with the Maskil, the Mebaqqer’s oral performance was more

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administrative. The Mebaqqer’s oral performance functioned to (1) govern pedagogy and (2) regulate all ingress to and egress from the community. On the one hand, his speech acts convened public assemblies and established hierarchy of speaking during meetings. He also regulated all speech during general membership meetings. On the other hand, the Mebaqqer orally examined postulants, administered initiation oaths, inscribed postulants into their proper rank, and formally ejected apostates. In sum, the Mebaqqer’s office attests to the essential role of oral performance in organization and governance. In addition to the Maskil and the Mebaqqer, Rule Texts assign a leadership to three groups of priests: “priests,” “sons of Zadok,” and “sons of Aaron.” Unfortunately, the descriptions of these priestly groups often coalesce, and one can hardly distinguish their specific responsibilities. Generally speaking, priests served both pedagogical and liturgical roles. For example, blessings constituted a very important component of priestly performance during community meals and initiation ceremonies. But priests also engaged in oral pedagogy of sectarian regulations and Torah. Moreover, they took part in the oral examination of initiates together with “the many” during community meetings. The Paqid was the head priest of the entire community—namely, the priest who literally sat “at the head of the many” during community meetings. Compared with the Mebaqqer, the scope of the Paqid’s oral performance was narrower and his office carried less authority in matters of membership. The content of the Paqid’s oral performance nonetheless covered a wide range of activities, many of which coincided with priestly performance such as examination, instruction, and liturgical blessings. Similar to priests, the Paqid’s performance functioned to initiate, examine, and instruct both postulants and members. Overall, portrayals of priestly leaders suggest that oral performance was intrinsic to both educational practices and communal worship.

chapter 2

Oral Tradition and Oral Authority One early morning in March of 1914, Edmond de Rothschild set out to observe the recent archaeological excavation at the City of David, just south of the Temple Mount. But he wasn’t alone. According to a fascinating account in a local newspaper, some thirty cavalry officers rode in front of his carriage and entourage, which included the governor and other luminaries.1 After all, he was a baron. Rothschild, an heir of the French branch of the international banking family, was a person with considerable financial means to pursue his political and philanthropic interests. Just a few years earlier, he had purchased a parcel of land near the Temple Mount in Jerusalem, which he believed was the location of the ancient City of David. He also served as a member of the French Académie des Beaux-Arts and through it sponsored an archaeological excavation of the site, headed by an Egyptologist named Raymond Weill. The rain fell heavy that day, according to the newspaper article, and his carriage could not ascend the muddy slopes of the Mount of Olives. So the baron was forced to disembark his carriage and walk up the mountain on foot. When Rothschild and the governor finally reached their prize, they roamed the dig site together as Weill recounted the significance of the caves and discoveries. Weill’s excavations of the southern portion of the hill had unearthed an ancient quarry that exposed two ancient caves hewn out of rock. Weill believed that he had discovered nothing less than the royal tombs of the kings of Judah, although some subsequent research has cast doubt on that interpretation.2 As 1  Shlomo Shiller and Yehuda Yanovitch, “‫קבלת הדפוטציות ע״י הבארון רוטשילד בירושלים‬,” Hazefira Newspaper, March 5, 1914 (Hebrew). For an Internet archive of this volume, see: http://www.jpress.nli.org.il/Olive/APA/NLI/sharedpages/SharedView.Page.aspx?sk=9D302D 9C&href=HZF/1914/03/05&page=1. The details of my description of Edmond de Rothschild’s visit are culled from this article. 2  Raymond Weill, La cité de David. Compte rendu des fouilles exécutées, à Jérusalem, sur le site de la ville primitive. Campagne de 1913–1914 (Paris: Paul Geuthner, 1920), 197–98. There is no consensus on the location of the royal burial grounds of the Davidic kings. For a brief overview of proposed locations, see Jeffrey R. Zorn, “The Burials of the Judean Kings: Sociohistorical Considerations and Suggestions,” in I Will Speak the Riddles of Ancient Times: Archaeological and Historical Studies in Honor of Amihai Mazar on the Occasion of His Sixtieth Birthday, ed. A. M. Maeir and P. de Miroschedji (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 801–20, esp. 801–5. Jeffrey R. Zorn study confirms Weill’s hypothesis (“The Burials of the Judean Kings,” 805–16). See also, Jeffrey R. Zorn, “Is T1 David’s Tomb?” BAR 38.6 (2012): 45–52, 78. But according to Ronny Reich’s reassessment, Weill did not discover the location of the royal tombs. See Ronny

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | doi:10.1163/9789004408203_004

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Weill and Rothschild walked the site for two hours, they probably also discussed various incidental finds such as pottery and artifacts that were uncovered by the excavations. Around three months earlier, sometime between December 6th and December 25th, 1913, Weill’s team had unearthed a Greek inscription near one of the caves. According to Weill’s account, the stele was buried deep under debris and architectural materials filling an ancient cistern.3 As it turns out, this proved to be the most significant discovery of the entire excavation for subsequent scholarship of ancient Judaism and Early Christianity. The inscription commemorates the building of a synagogue dating to the first century of the Common Era. According to the inscription, the synagogue was headed by a priest named Theodotus, and it functioned as a hostel for “lodging needy strangers.” More importantly, the commemoration states that Theodotus “built the synagogue for the reading of Torah and teaching of the commandments” (ΩΚΟΔΟΜΗΣΕ ΤΗΝ ΣΥΝΑΓΩΓ[Η]Ν ΕΙΣ ΑΝ[ΑΓ]ΝΩΣ[Ι]Ν ΝΟΜΟΥ ΚΑΙ ΕΙΣ [Δ]ΙΔΑΧΗΝ ΕΝΤΟΛΩΝ).4 Weill’s excavation of the City of David is an interesting story in itself, particularly when viewed within the modern historical context of Zionism in Ottoman ruled Palestine.5 But for historians of ancient Judaism, this discovery is important because it serves as an invaluable witness to the practices in pre-70 CE synagogues in Roman ruled Palestine.6 This inscription suggests that Reich, “Raymond Weill’s Excavations in the City of David (1913–1914)—A Reassessment,” in City of David: Revisiting Early Excavations: English Translations of Reports by Raymond Weill and L.-H. Vincent, ed. Hershel Shanks (Washington: Biblical Archaeological Society, 2004), 123–47, esp. 135–37. According to Kathleen M. Kenyon’s survey of the site, Weill’s supposed burial caves were actually oddly shaped cisterns (Digging up Jerusalem [New York: Praeger Publishers, 1974], 31–32, 156–57). 3  Théodore Reinach, “L’inscription de Théodotus,” REJ 71 (1920): 45–56, esp. 54; Weill, La cité de David, 184–85. 4  This is my transcription and translation. For a transcription and commentary of the entire inscription, see L.-H. Vincent, “Découverte de la ‘Synagogue des Affranchis’ à Jérusalem,” RB 30 (1921): 247–77, esp. 251–56. For an English translation of the entire inscription, see Lawrence H. Schiffman, Texts and Traditions: A Source Reader for the Study of Second Temple and Rabbinic Judaism (Hoboken: KTAV Publishing House, 1988), 474. 5  For those interested in the political context of Weill’s excavations, see Katharina Galor, Finding Jerusalem: Archaeology between Science and Ideology (Oakland: University of California Press, 2017), 28–34; Neil Asher Silberman, Digging for God and Country: Exploration, Archaeology, and the Secret Struggle for the Holy Land, 1799–1917 (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1982), 180–94. 6  Concerning pre-70 CE synagogue buildings, as well as the dating of the Theodotus inscription, see Vincent, “Découverte de la ‘Synagogue des Affranchis’ à Jérusalem,” 256–77; Lester L. Grabbe, “Synagogues in Pre-70 Palestine: A Re-Assessment,” JTS 39 (1988): 401–10, esp. 406–7. Alternatively, Howard Clark Kee has dated the inscription (and synagogue buildings) to a much later period (“Defining the First-Century CE Synagogue,” NTS 41 [1995]: 481–500). According to his study, “A mid- to late third century [CE] date for the inscription …

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the reading practices of the sectarian communities living at Qumran and elsewhere are consistent with the education curriculum of Judaism in the broader Greco-Roman world. Like the Jews who attended this Theodotus’s synagogue, located just a long day’s travel away from the Qumran settlement (in ancient reckoning), the sectarians living at Qumran also periodically gathered together to read and study the Torah. Similarly, according to Philo’s description, Jews living in Alexandria assembled at a meeting place to “read the holy books” (τὰς ἱερὰς βίβλους ἀναγινώσκοντες) “and to expound anything that could be unclear” (κἂν εἴ τι μὴ τρανὲς εἴη διαπτύσσοντες).7 As the Theodotus inscription commemorates for posterity, oral performance of the Torah was an integral part of reading practices within Judaism of the Second Temple period. More importantly for my interests in this chapter, however, the Theodotus inscription also sheds light on the oral process of transmission and the traditional content of performance in ancient Judaism. Thus far in my discussion of the Dead Sea Scrolls as an oral medium, I have demonstrated that oral performance was a fundamental part of daily life, whenever and wherever members lived. But an examination of the Scrolls as an oral medium must extend beyond “oral performance” because “oral” denotes more than “realized in performance.” In addition to performance, “oral” also connotes a number of other concepts, such as tradition, composition, and transmission. The communities associated with the Scrolls, as I argue in this chapter, were “oral” in these senses, too—that is, oral tradition, oral-traditional texts, and oral transmission also played an integral role in the daily lives of all members and leaders of the sectarian movement. Although the rabbinic category of “Torah that is spoken” (‫)תורה שבעל פה‬ was foreign to Judaism of the Second Temple period, exegesis was not an exclusively textual activity. Written and oral transmission were part of the ancient Jewish study curriculum. According to the Theodotus inscription, for example, ancient Jews “read the Law” and “taught the commandments.” Likewise, according to the Community Rule, members “read the Book” and “studied the ruling” during nightly study sessions. In these cases, reading the Torah appears to be organically connected to teaching the commandments or studying the ruling. In short, as the Theodotus inscription insinuates, oral interpretive is compatible with the historical, linguistic and archaeological evidence” (“Defining the First-Century CE Synagogue,” 499–500). But cf. Kenneth Atkinson’s cogent counterarguments (“On Further Defining the First-Century CE Synagogue: Fact or Fiction?” NTS 43 [1997]: 491–502). 7  Philo, De somniis 2.127. This is my translation. In this passage, Philo recounts how an Egyptian official scorned the Jews as a people who would never abandon their custom of gathering on the Sabbath to read and expound holy books.

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traditions were a crucial component of Torah study. Moreover, for the communities associated with the Scrolls, the content of the ruling derives in part from reading the Torah and other authoritative texts. Indeed, as I will demonstrate in this chapter, oral performance during general membership meetings of the communities associated with the Scrolls included both studying oral traditions and reading written texts. 1

Oral Tradition

From a pre-critical point of view, oral tradition is information or texts passed on by word of mouth rather than in writing. But our study of oral tradition requires a more sophisticated definition, since we obviously cannot hear the spoken word in ancient texts—that is, the actual oral communication of ancient people is beyond our reach. Generally speaking, the term “tradition” denotes a multivalent body of established thought, meaning, or interpretation.8 When this tradition is composed, performed, or received orally (in part or in whole), we call this “oral tradition.”9 That being said, oral tradition—like orality—is impossible to define as one thing.10 More specifically, three additional connotations emerge when considering oral tradition in ancient Judaism. In the communities associated with the Scrolls, oral tradition also denotes (1) tradition inscribed in an orally communicated literature, (2) oral-traditional texts, and (3) oral interpretive traditions. This is not the place for a full discussion, but I should begin with a brief explanation of each of these connotations. Because of the mutually illuminating characteristics between oral tradition and folklore, Alan Dundes’s study discussing folklore’s “texture, text, and context” provides an excellent springboard for oral tradition in the Dead Sea Scrolls.11 Indeed, as Dundes’s brief survey indicates, past folklorists have 8   According to Rafael Rodríguez, tradition is “a body of established, inherited patterns of speech, behavior, thought, social organization, and so on.” See Rafael Rodríguez, Oral Tradition and the New Testament (London: Bloomsbury, 2014), 30. My definition is also influenced by the work of John Miles Foley, who describes tradition as “a dynamic, multivalent body of meaning that preserves much that a group has invented and transmitted but which also includes as necessary, defining features both an inherent indeterminacy and a predisposition to various kinds of changes or modifications.” See John Miles Foley, The Singer of Tales in Performance (Indiana: Indiana University Press, 1995), xii. 9   John Miles Foley, How to Read an Oral Poem (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2002), 39. This definition is based on Foley’s fourfold typology of oral-traditional texts. 10  Ruth Finnegan, “What Is Orality—If Anything?” BMGS 14 (1990): 130–49, esp. 146. 11  Alan Dundes, “Texture, Text, and Context,” SFQ 28 (1964): 251–65.

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sometimes erroneously equated folklore with oral tradition.12 The most common criterion used to define folklore—similar to oral tradition—was the method of transmission. In other words, folklore has been conceived of as the societal beliefs, cultural customs, or traditional stories that are passed on by word of mouth. But, as Dundes points out, there are numerous written forms of folklore.13 Similarly, according to John Miles Foley’s study of oral tradition, many forms of tradition are transmitted in both written and oral mediums.14 Thus, oral transmission is a poor criterion to define either folklore or tradition. Instead, Dundes proposes three categories of analysis in order to arrive at a more holistic definition of folklore: texture, text, and context.15 First, according to Dundes, one may study the texture of any given piece of folklore. In verbal forms of folklore, according to Dundes, texture denotes the specific “morphemes employed” as well as linguistic features, such as rhyme, alliteration, and stress.16 From the perspective of media studies, Dundes’s concept of “texture” denotes the content (or genre) of tradition. In this sense, the term oral tradition designates the different ways in which “societies and individuals carry information, organize themselves, and make sense of their lives via oral communication.”17 Thus defined, oral tradition in the Dead Sea Scrolls denotes as any tradition inscribed in a number of orally communicated genres of literature, such as narrative, hymns, proverbs, parables, genealogies, rituals, prayers, blessings, and curses. Second, one may study the text of any given piece of folklore. According to Dundes, “The text of an item of folklore is essentially a version or a single telling of a tale.”18 More importantly, as Dundes continues, “The text may be considered independent of its texture. Whereas the texture is, on the whole, untranslatable, text may be translated.”19 By separating texture from text, Dundes pioneered what new philologists now understand as the difference between “work” and “text.”20 Put bluntly, a single telling of a tale does not tell the whole tale. More importantly for my media-critical definition of oral tradition, 12  Dundes, “Texture, Text, and Context,” 251–52. 13  Dundes, “Texture, Text, and Context,” 251. 14  Foley, How to Read an Oral Poem, 38–53. 15  Dundes, “Texture, Text, and Context,” 254. 16  Dundes, “Texture, Text, and Context,” 254. 17  Werner H. Kelber, “Oral Tradition, the Comparative Study of,” DBAM 252–59, esp. 252. 18  Dundes, “Texture, Text, and Context,” 255. 19  Dundes, “Texture, Text, and Context,” 255. 20  According to new philologists, a work is the theoretical the sum of a particular composition and a text is the particular series of words before the reader. See M. J. Driscoll, “The Words on the Page: Thoughts on Philology, Old and New,” in Creating the Medieval Saga: Versions, Variability and Editorial Interpretations of Old Norse Saga Literature, ed.

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Dundes’s concept of text also applies to the medium of tradition. As outlined by Werner H. Kelber and a host of others, tradition can be intermedial.21 As a result, a particular medium of a piece of oral tradition, like a single text of an item of folklore, does not necessarily capture the entirety of an oral tradition. Thus defined, oral tradition in the Dead Sea Scrolls should include an additional connotation of “oral-traditional” texts. As I previously outlined, the word “text” can convey both written and oral texts because a text is a unit of speech that is designed to be stored and transmitted.22 Oral-traditional texts (also known as “oral-derived” texts) are texts that “either stem directly from or have roots in oral tradition.”23 In this chapter, I examine two bodies of ancient Jewish oral tradition evidenced by the Dead Sea Scrolls called (1) “mysteries” and (2) “hidden” and “revealed” laws. More importantly, I suggest that the sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls witnessed the development of certain oral-traditional texts derived from these bodies of oral tradition. The first body of oral tradition, called “hidden” and “revealed” things, consists of sectarian regulations and authoritative interpretation that God “reveals” through revelation and exegesis. In addition, these revealed and hidden laws constitute the “ruling,” an oral-traditional text generated from oral performance and textual exegesis during community meetings. Third, one may study the context of any given piece of folklore. “The context of an item of folklore,” according to Dundes, “is the specific social situation in which that particular item is actually employed.”24 Similarly, according to Kelber, traditions—both written and oral—“do not carry the full meaning: part of the work of understanding is accomplished by the informing context, Judy Quinn and Emily Lethbridge (Odense: University Press of Southern Denmark, 2010), 87–104, esp. 93–95. 21  Oral tradition, according to Kelber, “is not limited to verbal communication without written texts” and oral traditions often interface with written texts in complex ways (“Oral Tradition,” 253). See also “media mix” in Rodríguez, Oral Tradition and the New Testament, 23. 22  K. Ehlich, “Text und sprachliches Handeln: Die Entstehung von Texten aus dem Bedürfnis nach Überlieferung,” in Schrift und Gedächtnis: Beiträge zur Archäologie der literarischen Kommunikation, ed. Aleida Assmann, Jan Assmann, and Christof Hardmeier (Munich: Wilhelm Fink Verlag, 1983), 24–43, esp. 24–27. For my previous discussion, see Introduction §3.2. 23  John Miles Foley, Immanent Art: From Structure to Meaning in Traditional Oral Epic (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1991), xi. Concerning “oral-traditional texts” (also known as “oral derived texts”), see Foley, How to Read an Oral Poem, 38–53. Since some “oral-derived texts” are composed in writing, I prefer to use the synonym “oral-traditional texts.” 24  Dundes, “Texture, Text, and Context,” 255–56.

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and the other part by the event of textual recitation.”25 Kelber’s notions of “context” and “event” alludes to the work of Foley, who argued that tradition’s multivalency is enabled by “word power” and bound to the “performance arena.” Word power is the “the ability of traditional words, phrases, and themes to transcend their textual, denotative significance and engage their contextualizing tradition efficiently and effectively.”26 Performance arena designates the literal or figurative place of oral performance, where words evoke special associations that transcend their literal meaning.27 With this definition of context in mind, oral tradition in the Dead Sea Scrolls designates a third connotation of “oral interpretive traditions.” The cultural memory of the communities associated with the Scrolls, such as the memory of their common descent and fictionalized past, provides one important informing context for oral interpretive traditions.28 By “oral interpretative traditions,” I primarily mean what Jonathan D. H. Norton calls the “sense contours” of texts—the exegetical ideas traditionally associated with specific passages of authoritative texts.29 In addition, these oral interpretive traditions included the meanings of figures, groups, and words. The pesharim’s use of coded language, much of which is derived from scriptural idiom, provides a salient illustration of oral interpretative tradition in the Scrolls. Aside from the references to Demetrius and Antiochus in the Nahum Pesher, all references to leaders and groups in biblical commentaries appear in coded language.30 Readers must therefore rely on oral-written traditions to decode the full meaning of sobriquets and stereotypes in the pesharim. As John J. Collins has argued, for example, the Habakkuk Pesher’s description of the Man of the Lie and the Teacher of Righteousness assumes a narrative “about the Teacher and his adversaries that is then correlated with the prophetic text, by means of the catchwords ‘traitors’ and ‘believe.’”31 In other words, as Collins summarizes elsewhere, the pesharim “have to rely on tradition, whether oral or 25  Kelber, “Oral Tradition,” 253; emphasis added. 26  Rodríguez, Oral Tradition and the New Testament, 31. See also Foley, The Singer of Tales in Performance, xiv, 1–2. 27  Foley, The Singer of Tales in Performance, 47. In Richard Bauman’s words, performance sets up “an interpretive frame,” which transforms “the basic referential uses of language.” See Richard Bauman, Verbal Art as Performance (Prospect Heights: Waveland Press, 1984), 9. 28  For a discussion of cultural memory, see Chapter 5. 29  Jonathan D. H. Norton, Contours of Text: Textual Variation in the Writings of Paul, Josephus and the Yaḥad, LNTS 430 (London: Bloomsbury, 2011), 52–53. 30  Timothy H. Lim, Pesharim, CQS (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 2002), 65. 31  John J. Collins, “Prophecy and History in the Pesharim,” in Authoritative Scriptures in Ancient Judaism, ed. Mladen Popović, JSJSup 141 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 209–26, esp. 218.

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written.”32 As a result, according to Foley’s description of individual-oriented phraseology in traditional history, sobriquets in the pesharim can act as “formulas that represent specific characters” as well as a “broader traditional identity.”33 The term “righteous” in the Habakkuk Pesher, for example, represents both the Teacher of Righteousness and the Teacher’s righteous followers.34 2

Oral-Traditional Texts

Although the texture, text, and context of oral tradition in the Dead Sea Scrolls merits further attention, this chapter will focus on the second connotation of oral tradition described above—namely, oral-traditional texts. More specifically, I use Foley’s fourfold media taxonomy in order to examine oral tradition in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Foley’s specialization was the comparative study of oral tradition, especially oral tradition in epic Greek poetry, Old English literature, and South Slavic songs. Thus, Foley’s taxonomy of oral-traditional texts pertains to a comparative study of the world’s oral poetry rather than the Dead Sea Scrolls. But his categories nevertheless provide a useful heuristic model for those interested in oral tradition in the Scrolls. Indeed, as I previously argued, the comparative study of oral tradition provides a methodological framework that is intended for transcultural analysis.

32  John J. Collins, “Historiography in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” DSD 19 (2012): 159–176, esp. 167; emphasis added. In the same vein, Michael A. Knibb states, “Attempts have been made to exploit the commentaries in order to reconstruct the history of the Qumran community. This is, however, more difficult to do than is often assumed because the pieces of interpretation frequently follow traditional lines of interpretation and their language is opaque.” See Michael A. Knibb, The Qumran Community, CCJCW 2 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 208. 33  John Miles Foley, “Traditional History in South Slavic Epic,” in Epic and History, ed. David Konstan and Kurt A. Raaflaub (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010), 347–61, esp. 353. In Jutta Jokiranta’s words, stereotypical names can function “as theological evaluations of individuals and groups, rather than as secret code names for them.” See Jutta Jokiranta, “Pesharim: A Mirror for Self-Understanding,” in Reading the Present in the Qumran Library: The Perception of the Contemporary by Means of Scriptural Interpretations, eds. Kristin De Troyer and Armin Lange, SBLSymS 30 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2005), 23–34, esp. 28. 34  As Collins observes, “‫הצדיק‬, ‘the righteous,’ from Hab 1:13 is interpreted as the Teacher of Righteousness in 1QpHab 5:10, but the ‫ צדיק‬of [Hab] 2:4b (‘the righteous man will live by his faithfulness’) is interpreted as everyone who observes the Law and is faithful to the Teacher in 1QpHab 8:1–3” (“Prophecy and History in the Pesharim,” 219).

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Oral Tradition and Oral Authority table 1

Types of oral-traditional textsa

Type

Composition

Performance

Reception

1. Written Oral Poems 2. Voiced Texts 3. Voices from the Past 4. Oral Performance

Written Written Oral/Written Oral

Written Oral Oral/Written Oral

Written Aural Aural/Written Aural

a I have rearranged the order of Foley’s categories to correspond to the flow of my own argument. I take this liberty because, as Foley states, there is no taxonomic hierarchy or natural ordering of the four categories (How to Read an Oral Poem, 40).

Foley’s media taxonomy divides oral poetry into four categories, which are distinguished from one another based on composition, performance, and reception.35 As Foley cautions, however, these categories can “combine and interact in interesting ways.”36 In other words, Foley did not intend to construct a rigid barrier between these categories or imagine any “facile uniformity” within them.37 Foley’s goal was “to fashion a model for oral poetry that realistically portrays both its unity and its diversity.”38 The taxonomy, according to Foley, should be “just fine grained enough to be diagnostic, just comprehensive enough to demonstrate some overall unities and offer some practical bases for comparison, and just flexible enough to accommodate the natural diversity of human expression.”39 Thus, the border between these different types of oral-traditional texts can and will sometimes blur. For example, as Foley notes, some oral-traditional texts “straddle” two categories or exist on the “cusp” of two categories.40 With this in mind, my discussion of oral-traditional texts in the Dead Sea Scrolls will not treat Foley’s media taxonomy as “four categorically distinct phenomena.”41

35  Foley, How to Read an Oral Poem, 39. 36  Foley, How to Read an Oral Poem, 40. 37  Foley, How to Read an Oral Poem, 38. 38  Foley, How to Read an Oral Poem, 38. 39  Foley, How to Read an Oral Poem, 39. 40  Foley, How to Read an Oral Poem, 44–45. 41  Rodríguez, Oral Tradition and the New Testament, 83.

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2.1 Written Oral Poems The first type of oral-traditional texts (“Written Oral Poems”) are composed, experienced, and transmitted in writing—that is, they are intended to be experienced by an audience as a literary work.42 In addition, as Rodríguez notes, these works are intended for readers not “familiar with either the enabling event of performance or the enabling referent of tradition.”43 These types of oral-traditional texts are therefore comparable to modern, academic transcriptions of oral poetry, which are stylized to be silently read by an individual who is divorced from the author.44 Although the reader usually does not speak “Written Oral Poems,” these oral-traditional texts are “oral” because they inscribe linguistic features of orality, carefully “imitating” the oral like theatrical mime, suggesting speech without actually speaking words. Because reading practices in ancient Judaism typically involved a public declamation before an audience, this category is absent from the Scrolls. As I outlined in the introduction, this is particularly true for the communities associated with the Dead Sea Scrolls. In limited educational contexts, scrolls may have been privately studied or silently read, but in the majority of instances they were publicly read out loud before an audience.45 As a consequence, the Dead Sea Scrolls were certainly not designed for silent reading only. In addition, this category is a poor fit for the Dead Sea Scrolls because, as any neophyte will quickly realize, the Scrolls were written for readers familiar with the performance arena of the text. This is precisely why so many aspects of textual interpretation remain obscure to scholars today. 2.2 Voiced Texts The second type of oral-traditional texts (“Voiced Texts”) are composed in writing but intended for both oral delivery and aural reception.46 By way of analogy, we could think of this type of oral-traditional text as a “script” because these oral texts are designed for and lead to oral performance, whether through 42  Foley, How to Read an Oral Poem, 50–52. 43  Rodríguez, Oral Tradition and the New Testament, 85. 44  Rodríguez, Oral Tradition and the New Testament, 85. 45  Concerning reading practices in the ancient Jewish communities associated with the Scrolls, see Mladen Popović, “Reading, Writing, and Memorizing Together: Reading Culture in Ancient Judaism and the Dead Sea Scrolls in a Mediterranean Context,” DSD 24 (2017): 447–70, esp. 453–56. Concerning silent, individual reading, see André Lemaire, “Liré, écrire, étudier à Qoumrân et ailleurs,” in Qoumrân et le judaïsme du tournant de notre ère: Actes de la Table Ronde, Collège de France, 16 novembre 2004, ed. André Lemaire and Simon C. Mimouni, CREJ 40 (Louvain: Peeters, 2006), 63–79, esp. 66. 46  Foley, How to Read an Oral Poem, 43–45.

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memorization, reading, or dramatic reenactment.47 “Voiced Texts,” according to Foley, “aim solely at performance and are by definition incomplete without that performance”48 In light of how little we know about the sociolinguistic setting of the majority of compositions in the Scrolls, this category is nearly impossible to apply to the Scrolls. As I will explain in my treatment of the Scrolls as a written medium, however, we do have several examples of compositions in the Dead Sea Scrolls that, at the very least, straddle the categories of “Voices from the Past” (see below) and “Voiced Texts.” Although it’s unlikely that any of the Dead Sea Scrolls were written “solely for performance,” (1) the oral-written textuality of some Scrolls and (2) the oral-written register of certain scribal practices reflected in the Scrolls nonetheless indicate that many were designed with oral performance in mind. In Chapter 3, for example, I demonstrate that the spatialization provided by stichography and other spacing techniques intentionally represents how a text should be performed, presenting a “visible song” of oral performance.49 Moreover, in Chapter 4 I demonstrate how a variety of other scribal practices reflected in the Scrolls were also designed to facilitate oral performance. Some special layouts, scribal markings, cryptic scripts, and divine codenames, for example, graphically represent specific ways of reading texts. Overall, as David M. Carr has persuasively argued, scrolls in antiquity likely functioned as reference points for reading, studying, and memorizing.50 In this sense, some of the Dead Sea Scrolls can be rightly understood as existing on the cusp between “Voiced Texts” and “Voices from the Past.” 2.3 Voices from the Past The third type of oral-traditional texts (“Voices from the Past”) are (1) orally or textually composed and (2) transmitted in both oral and textual mediums.51 Although we can only read these works in a textual medium, they were at some point in the distant past performed and “inscribed” in memory.52 As 47  Rodríguez, Oral Tradition and the New Testament, 84. 48  Foley, How to Read an Oral Poem, 43. 49  The phrase “visible song” refers to the pioneering work of Katherine O’Brien O’Keeffe on Old English poetry, who argued that graphical reading cues (e.g., hierarchy of script, capitals, lineation, spacing, and punctuation) present a “visible song,” a convenient reference point for recitation (Visible Song: Transitional Literacy in Old English Verse, CSASE 4 [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990], 1–22). 50  David M. Carr, Writing on the Tablet of the Heart: Origins of Scripture and Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 4–8, esp. 6. 51  Foley, How to Read an Oral Poem, 45–50. 52  On account of this fact, “performance criticism” can be a valuable tool for understanding the social context of “Voices from the Past.” That being said, I am interested here in

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noted by Rodríguez, this is the most flexible of all of Foley’s categories because these types of oral-traditional texts “may have been accessed through oral performance, public reading, or private reading (or all three). Consequentially, they may have been received aurally or as written texts.”53 In many cases, “Voices from the Past” could also be accurately labeled “remnants from the past,” because only written records remain. In addition, these written records only preserve traces of traditions that constitute these texts. In my opinion, the majority of oral-traditional texts in the Dead Sea Scrolls fit best into this category. Given the pervasiveness of oral communication in the Greco-Roman world, as well the widespread degree of textuality in ancient Judaism, the vast majority of the Scrolls were probably experienced as both oral and written mediums.54 In addition, many of the oral-traditional texts used within the communities associated with the Scrolls, particularly those evidenced by the so-called sectarian compositions, are best categorized as “Voices from the Past” because of the Yaḥad’s reading practices. As I outlined in the introduction, a significant proportion of members of the communities associated with the Scrolls—like the majority of Jews in the Roman Palestine— were illiterate or semi-illiterate.55 Therefore, similar to how we experience audiobooks today, most ancient Jews “read” the written text aurally through the oral performance of the reader. Overall, as Mladen Popović’s study of reading practices in ancient Judaism indicates, the Scrolls were likely received as both written texts and oral performance.56 The crucial role of oral tradition in the reading practices of the communities associated with the Scrolls is perhaps best illustrated by the “ruling” (‫—)משפט‬a technical term describing community regulations. As I outlined in Chapter 1, describing the different types of oral-traditional texts witnessed by the Scrolls rather than a performance criticism of the Scrolls. For an engaging example of performance criticism applied to one of the Dead Sea Scrolls, see Marvin Lloyd Miller, Performances of Ancient Jewish Letters: From Elephantine to MMT, JAJSup 20 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015), 221–66. 53  Rodríguez, Oral Tradition and the New Testament, 84. 54  Concerning textuality in Roman Palestine, see Chris Keith, Jesus’ Literacy: Scribal Culture and the Teacher from Galilee, LNTS 413 (London: Bloomsbury, 2011), 85–110. 55  Concerning literacy in the communities associated with the scrolls, see Charlotte Hempel, “Reflections on Literacy, Textuality, and Community in the Qumran Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Is There a Text in This Cave? Studies in the Textuality of the Dead Sea Scrolls in Honour of George J. Brooke, ed. Ariel Feldman, Maria Cioată, and Charlotte Hempel, STDJ 119 (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 69–82, esp. 81–82. For an overview of Jewish literacy in Roman Palestine, see Michael Owen Wise, Language and Literacy in Roman Judaea: A Study of the Bar Kokhba Documents (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2015), 20–36, 345–55. 56  According to Popović, the social setting of the Scrolls primarily points toward reading aloud in “deeply social contexts” (“Reading, Writing, and Memorizing Together,” 453–56).

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the Law and other authoritative texts were actively engaged through oral performance. Moreover, according to the description of nightly study sessions in the Community Rule (1QS 6:7b–8a), the content of the ruling stems from this oral performance. In sum, as Steven D. Fraade correctly observes, reading the Book and interpreting the ruling were independent activities with two types of learning, Torah and sectarian rules, but they were also intrinsically connected: “the latter derive by inspired exegesis from the former.”57 Here, however, I wish to underscore two important consequences of this understanding of the ruling. Because “interpreting” is coupled with “reading,” an intrinsically oral activity, the description of the nightly study session portrays exegesis as both an oral and textual activity. Even more importantly, the oral-written nature of these reading practices suggests that the content of the ruling—the “interpretation” of the ruling—was not limited to written texts. Instead, the ruling was most likely both oral and written: written, because it contained sectarian regulations generated from exegesis of Torah and other authoritative texts; oral, because it contained traditional interpretation generated from the oral performance of Torah and other authoritative texts. With these two points in mind, the ruling was an oral-traditional text containing traditions generated from both oral performance and textual exegesis. More precisely, as I will explain below, the ruling was a “Voice from the Past” constituted by a body of oral tradition dubbed “hidden” and “revealed” things. According to Moses’ farewell speech in Deuteronomy, “the hidden things (‫ )הנסתרת‬belong to the Lord our God, but the revealed things (‫ )הנגלת‬belong to us and to our children forever, to observe all the words of this law (‫התורה‬ ‫( ”)הזאת‬Deut 29:29). Since everything required for obedient worship has already been publicly revealed at Sinai, one should seek further knowledge through neither esoteric speculation nor foreign gods, lest one incur the curses of the covenant. Turning to Rule Texts in the Scrolls, we find a radically different interpretation: hidden laws now belong to the sect rather than to God alone.58 According to the Damascus Document, the generations of old 57  Steven D. Fraade, “Interpretive Authority in the Studying Community at Qumran,” JJS 44 (1993): 46–69, esp. 57. Concerning the connection between “reading the Book” and “interpreting the ruling,” see also George J. Brooke, “Reading, Searching and Blessing: A Functional Approach to Scriptural Interpretation in the ‫יחד‬,” in The Temple in Text and Tradition: A Festschrift in Honour of Robert Hayward, ed. R. Timothy McLay, LSTS 83 (London: Bloomsbury, 2015), 140–56, esp. 145; Popović, “Reading, Writing, and Memorizing Together,” 456–66. 58   Concerning the sectarian interpretation of Deuteronomy 29:29 in the Damascus Document, see Aharon Shemesh and Cana Werman, “Hidden Things and Their Revelation,” RevQ 18 (1998): 409–27, esp. 410–14.

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abandoned God’s covenant (CD 3:2–11). As a punishment, God hid himself from ancient Israel (‫)הסתיר פניו מישראל‬, and the correct interpretation of the Torah was subsequently concealed from Israel (‫)וכול דבר הנסתר מישראל‬.59 But these bygone interpretations, although neglected, are not irreclaimable. Members of the Yaḥad could recover these formerly “hidden laws” through reading and interpreting authoritative texts—activities, which took place primarily during community meetings. These hidden laws, in Lawrence H. Schiffman’s words, are “the correct interpretations,” which are “derived through inspired exegesis at the sectarian study sessions”60 Consequentially, all laws could be classified into one of two categories: “the revealed” (‫ )הנגלות‬and “the hidden” (‫)הנסתרות‬. The “revealed laws,” according to Schiffman, “were known to all Israel, for they were manifest in Scripture, but the hidden laws were known only to the sect and were revealed solely through sectarian exegesis.”61 Indeed, the earliest admission requirements in the Community Rule differentiate scriptural laws (revealed) from sectarian laws (hidden). Regulations proscribe associating with those who neither study “hidden” things (‫ )הנסתרות‬nor follow “revealed” things (‫)והנגלות‬. New members should keep separate from wicked outsiders who knowingly transgress revealed laws and refuse to discover hidden laws by studying God’s statutes (1QS 5:10–12).62 In sum, part of the identity of the communities associated with the Dead Sea Scrolls revolves around a body of authoritative oral tradition called “revealed” and “hidden” things, which was passed on by teachers within the group.63 59  Cf. CD 1:3, 2:8; 1QS 8:11. 60  Lawrence H. Schiffman, Sectarian Law in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Courts, Testimony and the Penal Code, BJS 33 (Scholars Press, 1983), 16, 213. 61  Lawrence H. Schiffman, Reclaiming the Dead Sea Scrolls: The History of Judaism, the Background of Christianity, the Lost Library of Qumran (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1994), 247. 62  Concerning the ethical dualism and doctrine of predestination within the communities associated with the Scrolls, see Schiffman, Reclaiming the Dead Sea Scrolls, 145–57. According to the strictly deterministic view of the Yaḥad, outsiders could not discover the true meaning of hidden laws even if they sought to do so; nevertheless, insiders are not to reveal hidden laws to outsiders. On the one hand, for those who are predestined to repent, members should not reveal the hidden laws until they have done so and joined the community. On the other hand, for those who are predestined to the lot of Belial, members should not reveal the hidden laws because they will never repent and join the community. In addition, according to the Yaḥad’s ethical dualism, outsiders are still culpable for disobeying laws that they have never discovered. Despite the fact that all humans are predestined by God to be a part of either the “sons of light” or the “sons of darkness,” everyone remains responsible for their sin. 63  See also John Kampen’s discussion of mysteries (Wisdom Literature [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011], 59).

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Before proceeding to an explanation of the ruling as a “Voice from the Past,” two essential aspects of both hidden and revealed laws merit further explanation. First, as Schiffman himself points out, the distinction between hidden and revealed is not entirely consistent because God reveals hidden laws.64 According to CD 3:13–14, for example, God “reveals hidden things to them” (‫)לגלות להם נסתרות‬. Or, according to the initiation oath (1QS 5:8–9), members swear to follow the law “as understood and interpreted by the community”— that is, all the laws “revealed” to the priests and to the majority through Torah study (‫)לכול הנגלה ממנה‬.65 In this instance, as noted by Jacob Licht, “revealed” laws are synonymous with the “hidden” laws derived from sectarian exegesis.66 Overall, the Yaḥad’s identity revolves around a body of authoritative laws consisting of both “the revealed” (‫ )הנגלות‬regulations and “the hidden” (‫)הנסתרות‬ regulations, which are “derived through inspired exegesis at the sectarian study sessions.”67 Second, these laws were revealed in both oral and textual mediums. According to Schiffman and others, the hidden laws were at some point “formulated in the sectarian codes,” eventually finding “their way into the texts before us.”68 In other words, some hidden/revealed laws were the basis for regulations recorded in both the Community Rule and the Damascus Document. Even more importantly, as I will demonstrate below, both (1) hidden laws and (2) revealed laws were received and transmitted via an oral medium. 64  In Lawrence H. Schiffman’s words, “That which is nistar, hidden or secret, to the outside community may be described as nigleh, revealed, to the sect” (The Halakhah at Qumran, SJLA 16 [Leiden: Brill, 1975], 24). 65  More specifically, according to the Community Rule (1QS 5:7c–9a), each initiate swears to wholeheartedly return to the “law of Moses according to all that he commanded” (‫)תורת מושה ככול אשר צוה‬. But, as pointed out by Knibb, this oath also obligates members to follow the law “as understood and interpreted by the community”—that is, all the laws “revealed” through Torah study (‫( )לכול הנגלה ממנה‬The Qumran Community, 109). According to admission requirements in the Damascus Document (CD 15:13–14), too, the initiate swears to follow “everything that is revealed from the Law” (‫כל אשר נגלה מן‬ ‫)התורה‬. For a detailed comparison of the Community Rule and the Damascus Document, see Charlotte Hempel, “Interpretive Authority in the Community Rule Tradition,” DSD 10 (2003): 59–80, esp. 74–76. For two other examples of God revealing hidden things, see (1) 1QHa 19:20, where God’s reveals his hidden things to the speaker (‫[ונס]תרותיכה גליתה‬ ‫)לי‬, and (2) 1QHa 26:15, where God reveals hidden things (‫)לגלות נסתרות‬. 66  Jacob Licht, The Rule Scrolls: A Scroll from the Wilderness of Judea (Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1965 [Hebrew]), 131. See also Alex P. Jassen, Mediating the Divine: Prophecy and Revelation in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Second Temple Judaism, STDJ 68 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 331–42, esp. 335–37. 67  Schiffman, Sectarian Law in the Dead Sea Scrolls, 213. 68  Schiffman, Sectarian Law in the Dead Sea Scrolls, 213. See also Alex P. Jassen, “The Presentation of the Ancient Prophets as Lawgivers at Qumran,” JBL 127 (2008): 307–37, esp. 308.

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Regulations surrounding admission, for example, portray revealed laws as oral instruction of written texts. According to the Damascus Document (CD 15:10–14), members should not “tell” the initiate (‫ )ואל יודיעהו‬about the Yaḥad’s laws before the Mebaqqer “examines him” (‫)בדרשו אתו‬, “informs him” (‫)יודיעהו‬, and “prescribes” (‫ )וצוה‬a particular study curriculum addressing “everything that is revealed from the Law” (‫)כל אשר נגלה מן התורה‬. Unless we envision members passing written notes to prospective members or the Mebaqqer prescribing a written study guide, this description of the admission process suggests that revealed laws are taught and transmitted orally. According to the various admission processes outlined in the Community Rule, too, a prospective member’s knowledge of sectarian regulations is tested through oral interlocution, not written examination. According to the later, more developed admission process, the Paqid examines (‫ )ידורשהו‬the initiate’s “understanding and works” (‫)לשכלו ולמעשיו‬, and the general membership interrogates (‫ )ונשאלו‬the initiate about “all the precepts of the Yaḥad” (‫)בכול משפטי היחד‬ (1QS 6:13c–16a).69 Likewise, hidden laws are orally revealed. The verb “reveal” (‫ )גלה‬often connotes speech that reveals to the ears and uncovers the eyes—that is, speech that is both heard (spoken) and seen (read). According to the opening paragraphs of the Damascus Document, for example, God “uncovers their eyes to the hidden things” (‫ )ויגל ע[יניה]מה בנסתרות‬and “opens their ears that they might hear deep things” (]‫)ואוזנמה פתח ו[ישמעו עמוקות‬.70 The leader elsewhere commands, “listen to me, all members of the covenant, so I can reveal to your ears (‫ )ואגלה אזנכם‬the ways of the wicked” (CD 2:2); “listen to me so that I may uncover your eyes to see (‫ )ואגלה עיניכם לראות‬and to understand the deeds of God” (CD 2:14).71 As these examples suggest, revealing to the ears and uncovering the eyes also denotes mental comprehension, perceiving hidden knowledge with the eyes and ears of one’s mind.72 But even in this symbolic connotation, a speaker reveals knowledge through verbal utterance and a hearer perceives 69  Although this passage does not explicitly designate sectarian laws as revealed/hidden laws, the relatively earlier description of admission indicates that these “precepts” include not only the laws in the Torah but also “all the revealed laws from it [i.e., the Torah]” (‫( )לכול הנגלה ממנה‬1QS 5:8–9). 70  4QDc (4Q268) 1 7. See also a parallel passage in 4QDa (4Q266) 2 i 5, which supplies the reconstructions for most of the lacunae. 71  Unless otherwise stated, all transcriptions and translations of the Hodayot are from Eileen M. Schuller and Carol A. Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms): A Study Edition of 1QHa, EJL 36 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2012). 72  Other examples of galah (‫ )גלה‬also exhibit this nuance. The speaker in the Hodayot, for example, asks, “H[o]w can I dis[cern] un[l]ess I see this [or understand these things unless you give me insight; and ho]w can I see unless you have opened (‫ )גליתה‬my eyes,

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understanding through audible speech, as though intellectual discernment is tantamount to listening.73 This oral-written background of hidden/revealed laws sheds light on the content of the ruling. As first suggested by Sarianna Metso, the purpose of the Community Rule “was not to serve as a law-book, but rather as a record of judicial decisions and an accurate report of oral traditions.”74 With this in mind, as Martin S. Jaffee adds, the ruling represents a “preserved record of the periodic disclosure of things ‘hidden’ from all Israel and ‘disclosed’ to the Yaḥad in their collective textual studies.”75 More precisely, to put a finer point on Jaffee’s interpretation, hidden/revealed things designate a body of oral-written tradition, whereas the ruling is an oral-traditional text stemming directly from this body of revealed/hidden tradition. Hidden/revealed things are written because some of these traditions eventually found their way into Rule Texts such as the Community Rule; they are oral because some were also revealed and transmitted orally during general membership meetings such as the nightly study sessions. Returning to Foley’s typology of oral-traditional texts, we could therefore quite accurately label the ruling as a “Voice from the Past,” as it was transmitted in both oral and written mediums, but written records only preserve a trace of the larger body of tradition that once constituted this oral-traditional text. 2.4 Oral Performance The last type of oral-traditional texts (“Oral Performance”), are composed, performed, and passed on by word of mouth in front of a listening audience.76 In short, as summarized by Rodríguez, “The written text plays no role whatsoever (unless a recording or transcription is made after the fact).”77 Moreover, in this type of oral-traditional text, “the processes of composition and perforor hear [unless …] (1QHa 21:5–6). Similarly, in the Hebrew Bible “uncovering the ears” denotes hearing and understanding God’s revelation (cf. Isa 22:14; Job 33:16). 73  Concerning the oral nature of “mysteries” and “hidden/revealed” laws, see §2.4 below. 74  Sarianna Metso, “In Search of the Sitz im Leben of the Community Rule,” in The Provo International Conference on the Dead Sea Scrolls: Technological Innovations, New Texts, and Reformulated Issues, ed. Donald W. Parry and Eugene Ulrich, STDJ 30 (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 86–93, esp. 314; emphasis added. See also Sarianna Metso, The Serekh Texts, CQS 9 (London: T&T Clark, 2007), 70. 75  Martin S. Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth: Writing and Oral Tradition in Palestinian Judaism, 200 BCE–400 CE (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 36. As correctly claimed by Jaffee, “The session for the many seems to have been understood as a setting for occasional disclosers or revelations that were transmitted as part of the community’s fund of separatist knowledge” (Torah in the Mouth, 34). Cf. also Metso, Serekh Texts, 64. 76  Foley, How to Read an Oral Poem, 40. 77  Rodríguez, Oral Tradition and the New Testament, 83.

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mance are usually simultaneous,” and the reception is “customarily live and immediate.”78 Foley and others capitalize “Oral Performance” to distinguish this type of oral-traditional text from “oral performance,” the reading, recitation, or enactment of a tradition (oral or written) before an audience.79 Concerning the Dead Sea Scrolls, we simply don’t know enough about the sociolinguistic setting of the vast majority of these texts, so this type of oraltraditional text is nearly impossible to access with certainty. Despite this difficulty, however, some oral-traditional texts evidenced by the Dead Sea Scrolls appear to blur the line between “Voices from the Past” and “Oral Performance.” In addition to “revealed and hidden” things, the identity of the communities associated with the Dead Sea Scrolls centered on two dynamic bodies of tradition called the “mystery of existence” (‫ )רז נהיה‬and the “wonderful mysteries” (‫)רזי פלא‬.80 Most broadly speaking, the “wonderful mysteries” pertain to God’s acts of judgment and redemption over both his creation and his elect, whereas the “mystery of existence” covers eschatology, history, and creation. We find mystery language primarily in sapiential literature such as Instruction (1Q26, 4Q415–418) and Mysteries (1Q27, 4Q299–300), a composition so-named by the editors of the editio princeps because of its repeated references to “mysteries” (‫)רזים‬. In addition, mysteries are described in various other genres such as poetic and liturgical works (e.g., the Hodayot), legal texts (e.g., 1QS), and apocalyptic texts (e.g., the War Rule).81 Both the “mystery of existence” and the “wonderful mysteries” should be considered examples, albeit non-paradigmatic, of “Oral Performance.” They are not quintessential “Oral Performance” because they were partly inscribed in written texts. And we cannot know for certain whether the descriptions of both the “mystery of existence” and the “wonderful mysteries” were either (1) transcriptions of oral performance or (2) written texts that were orally performed (or some combination of both). That being said, four clues suggest that the written descriptions of both the “mystery of existence” and the “wonderful mysteries” are primarily a record after the fact, a report of oral performance. Despite being partly inscribed, the “mystery of existence” and “wonderful mysteries” therefore represent a type of oral-traditional text that is much closer to “Oral Performance” than “Voices from the Past.” 78  Foley, How to Read an Oral Poem, 40. 79  Rodríguez, Oral Tradition and the New Testament, 135 n.51. 80  Because it is nuanced by various genres, compositions, and constructions, mystery language covers a host of connotations in the Dead Sea Scrolls. For a complete survey of “mysteries,” see Samuel I. Thomas, The “Mysteries” of Qumran: Mystery, Secrecy, and Esotericism in the Dead Sea Scrolls, SBLEJL 25 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2009), 127–86. 81  Thomas, The “Mysteries” of Qumran, 127–50.

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First, as John Kampen notes, both the “mystery of existence” and the “wonderful mysteries” were probably not viewed as written texts by the communities associated with the Scrolls because their content was far too broad for any single written text.82 Indeed, mystery language in the Scrolls—like oral tradition—elicits what Foley calls an “untextualizable network of traditional semantic associations.”83 Second, as Kampen also points out, these mysteries are not directly connected with any specific literary text.84 In Kampen’s words, “Texts only provided hints and clues, leaving the reader and/or adherent free to delve further into the revelation of the mystery.”85 Third, the descriptions of “mysteries” in written texts clearly imply that both the “mystery of existence” and the “wonderful mysteries” were performed in front of a listening audience and passed on by word of mouth (see below). Last, and most important, neither the “mystery of existence” nor the “wonderful mysteries” is ever described (either explicitly or implicitly) as a written text. They are never designated as (or compared with) nouns for written texts, such as “scroll” (‫)מגלה‬, “book” (‫)ספר‬, “rule” (‫)סרך‬, or “text” (‫)כתב‬.86 And they are never “read” (‫ )קרא‬or “written” (‫)כתב‬. Instead, they are often described as being “revealed to one’s ear.”87 Overall, as I will explain below, it appears that the “mystery of existence” and “wonderful mysteries” were principally revealed through oral pedagogy and oral performance (apart from written texts). Two threads running through mysteries’ various constructions and connotations weave pedagogy and performance into the tapestry mystery language. According to the first trope, mysteries describe experiential knowledge. Mysteries convey a performative quality or, as Samuel I. Thomas suggests, perhaps even verb-like characteristics of action and process: “Whenever ‘mystery’ shows up in the Scrolls it must do something, or someone must do something

82  Kampen, Wisdom Literature, 49–50. According to Kampen, “It seems doubtful that … the entire mystery was contained within any one text” (Wisdom Literature, 49). 83  Foley, The Singer of Tales in Performance, 54. 84  Kampen, Wisdom Literature, 49. 85  Kampen, Wisdom Literature, 50. 86  Concerning the use of these words to denote written texts, see Lawrence H. Schiffman, “‘Memory and Manuscript’: Books, Scrolls, and the Tradition of Qumran Texts,” in New perspectives on Old Texts: Proceedings of the Tenth International Symposium of the Orion Center for the Study of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Associated Literature, 9–11 January, 2005, ed. Esther G. Chazon, Baruch Halpern-Amaru, and Ruth A. Clements, STDJ 88 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 133–50, esp. 137–43. 87  As I will describe below, both the “mystery of existence” and the “wonderful mysteries” have many other verbal associations. For a detailed list of all the verbs used with these mysteries, see Thomas, The “Mysteries” of Qumran, 184–86.

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with it.”88 More specifically, verbal associations often portray mysteries as a body of knowledge that is learned (4Q417 1 i 24–25; 4Q418 177 7), studied (4Q416 2 iii 9, 14–15; 4Q417 1 i 6–7), and taught (1QS 9:16–20).89 According to the “Rules for the Maskil” in the Community Rule, for example, the Maskil should “instruct” (‫ )להשכילם‬God’s wonderful mysteries to the sect’s members but conceal them from the sect’s opponents (1QS 9:18–20). According to the second trope, mysteries designate revelatory knowledge.90 Mysteries denote special, esoteric knowledge that is acquired through both inspired revelation and inspired interpretation.91 According to the Hodayot, for example, God makes all his children wise (‫ )השכלתם‬in the way of mysteries (1QHa 19:13). Elsewhere in the Hodayot, the speaker praises God because “[you have given me insight] into [wonderful] myster[ies]” and “your [hid] den things you have revealed to me” (1QHa 19:19–20 of hodayah 19:6–20:6).92 Likewise, according to a hymn of the Maskil, the Maskil blesses God for his divine instruction in wonderful mysteries; God literally “makes [them] known” (‫ )הודעתני‬to the Maskil (1QHa 5:19–20 of hodayah 5:12–6:33; cf. also 1QHa 15:30). As a result of this divine instruction, the speaker at one point declares that God has made him an “expert interpreter of wonderful mysteries” (‫ומליץ דעת ברזי‬ ‫( )פלא‬1QHa 10:15). The question remains, however: how are both the “mystery of existence” and the “wonderful mysteries” revealed through divinely inspired instruction—by studying written texts, by listening to oral performance, or by some combination of both?93 The “mystery of existence,” which is primarily discussed in 4QInstruction, covers a wide spectrum of esoteric knowledge including 88  Thomas, The “Mysteries” of Qumran, 128. 89  For passages that portray mysteries as knowledge that is comprehended or learned through instruction, see 1Q27 1 i 3; 4Q415 6 4; 4Q416 2 i 5; 4Q417 1 i 2–6, 4Q417 1 i 12–13, 4Q417 1 i 24–25; 4Q418 43–45 i 4, 4Q418 77 4, 4Q418 177 7; 4Q511 2 ii 6; 1QHa 10:13, 15:27, 17:23, 19:10, 20:20; 1QM 16:16; 1QS 9:18, 11:3, 19. 90  Thomas, The “Mysteries” of Qumran, 146–47. 91  Matthew J. Goff, 4QInstruction, SBLWAW 2 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2013), 14–16; Thomas, The “Mysteries” of Qumran, 196–220. For examples of mysteries portrayed as supernatural revelation, see 1QS 4:18; 1QHa 12:28, 17:23, 19:19; 1QpHab 7:4–5; 4Q300 1a ii–b 2; 4Q417 1 i 8–9. For examples of mysteries being “revealed,” see 1QHa 9:21; 1Q26 1 4; 4Q270 2 ii 13; 4Q416 2 iii 18; 4Q418 123 ii 4. 92  Cf. also 1QHa 26:14–15 in hodayah 25:34–27:3, a hymn of the Maskil, where the liturgical master leads public worship by blessing God for “sealing up mysteries and revealing hidden things.” According to this trope, mysteries are analogous to “hidden/revealed” laws (see above). As a result, mysteries are sometimes equated with both the community’s regulations (1QHa 20:23) and the community’s council (1QHa 12:29, 19:12–13, 20:15–16). 93  Thomas, The “Mysteries” of Qumran, 128.

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eschatology, history, creation, and ethics.94 By means of the “mystery of existence,” God creates, maintains, and governs the cosmos (4Q417 1 i 8–9).95 But throughout all these connotations, as Matthew J. Goff observes in his commentary on 4QInstruction, the mystery of existence “signifies something that should be studied” and is normally “accompanied by an imperative that encourages contemplation” (4Q417 1 i 6–7).96 Even more importantly, as pointed out by Kampen, the verb “to uncover” or “to reveal” (‫ )גלה‬is found six times in the phrase, “revealed to your ear(s) the mystery of existence” (‫גלה אוזנכה ברז‬ ‫)נהיה‬.97 On account of this, according to Kampen, the “mystery of existence” was most likely an “unwritten body of knowledge” that relied “on a continuing oral tradition passed on by teachers.”98 At the very least, this verbal association indicates that the mystery of existence was something that was studied and revealed in an oral context. Similarly, according to the authors of the Hodayot, “wonderful mysteries” cover a wide spectrum of esoteric knowledge. They pertain to God’s acts of judgment and redemption over both his creation and his elect.99 Wonderful mysteries often describe God’s providential care over nature or the salvation and deliverance of God’s elect community both in the present age and 94  Goff, 4QInstruction, 14–17; Kampen, Wisdom Literature, 46–50; Daniel J. Harrington, “Mystery,” EDSS 1:588–91, esp. 590. 95  The “mystery of existence” pertains to the entire chronological order, the whole course of history from beginning to end. It covers the natural order of things, the workings of good and evil, and the divine role in the past, present, and future (Kampen, Wisdom Literature, 47; Goff, 4QInstruction, 16; Thomas, The “Mysteries” of Qumran, 153, 156). 96  Goff, 4QInstruction, 14. According to Goff, the “mystery of existence” is presented as “knowledge that can be ascertained through the study of supernatural knowledge” (4QInstruction, 15). 97  Kampen, Wisdom Literature, 206. Cf. 1Q26 1 4; 4Q416 2 iii 18//4Q418 10a+10b 1; 4Q418 123 ii 4, 4Q418 184 2, 4Q418 190 2; 4Q423 5 1. According to 4Q416 2 iii 18, for example, God has “revealed to your ear the mystery of existence” (‫)גלה אוזנכה ברז נהיה‬. Some minor variation exists amongst these occurrences, however. According to 4Q418 123 ii 4, “God uncovered the ear of those who understand through the mystery of existence” (‫גלה אל אוזן‬ ‫)מבינים ברז נהיה‬. In 4Q418 190 2, the noun “ear” is plural: “uncover your [ea]rs to the mystery of [existence].” Last, as Kampen also argues, the reference to “he uncovered our ear” in 4Q299 8 6 probably evokes this same notion (Wisdom Literature, 206). 98  “Since the center of this group’s [i.e., the addressees of 4QInstruction] existence is around an unwritten body of knowledge known as the ‘mystery of existence,’ elements of which are explained within 4QInstruction but which rely on a continuing oral tradition passed on by “teachers” within the group, this is not public knowledge available to anyone. It is rather an exclusive body of knowledge available only to those who make the commitment to join this group, the first step in appropriating the knowledge of the mystery of existence” (Wisdom Literature, 59). 99  Thomas, The “Mysteries” of Qumran, 136–44.

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in the age to come.100 More importantly, like the “mystery of existence,” “wonderful mysteries” are also revealed (‫ )גלה‬to one’s ears and spoken with a voice. According to 1QHa 9:23, for example, the speaker understands God’s wonderful mysteries because God has revealed them to his ears: “These things I know because of understanding that comes from you, for you have opened my ears to wonderful mysteries” (‫)כיא גליתה אוזני לרזי פלא‬.101 Shortly after, still speaking about these mysteries, the speaker declares anything that a person could “say” (‫ )אדבר‬or “make heard” (‫ )ואשמיעה‬about the mysteries has already been made known by God.102 Moreover, the speaker “recites” (‫ )ואספרה‬God’s wonders and commands the audience to “hear” (‫)שמעו‬, so that they may properly understand the divinely inspired knowledge bestowed upon the speaker (1QHa 9:25, 35–36). In sum, the speaker is described as someone who has audibly disclosed God’s aurally revealed knowledge. Like the “mystery of existence,” the “wonderful mysteries” are both spoken and heard, orally taught and aurally revealed.103 3

Oral Law and Oral Authority

Oral law and oral tradition have been prominent issues in scholarly discussion of ancient Judaism and rabbinic Judaism. Oral Law first occurs in an anecdote attributed to Shammai in the Babylonia Talmud written centuries after the Scrolls.104 By correlating Oral Law with Pharisaic tradition, some scholars 100  Thomas, The “Mysteries” of Qumran, 141–44. 101  Likewise, according to 1QHa 6:13, “yo[u yourself revealed] in our hearing [wonderful mysteries]” (]‫)וא[תה גליתה] אוזננו ל[רזי פלא‬. Cf. also 1QHa 15:41, where the speaker declares that God has “opened my ear to reports of your wonders” (‫)ולשמועות פלאכה גליתה אוזני‬. In several other instances, the synonym ‫ פתח‬describes God opening the speaker’s ears (1QHa 14:7; 22:26, 31; 23:5; 25:12). 102  The passage continues: “What could I speak that is not already known [by God], or what could I cause to be heard that has not already been explained [by God]?” (1QH 9:25). 103  According to the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice, God’s wonderful mysteries are described as a “sound of jubilation” (4Q401 14 ii 2–3). I can only speculate about the larger context because these lines are fragmentary. Perhaps these mysteries constitute “hidden things” (4Q401 14 ii 7–8) that are taught by the angelic praise in God’s heavenly temple. Cf. Carol A. Newsom, Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice: A Critical Edition, HSS 27 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1985), 139; Judith H. Newman, “Priestly Prophets at Qumran: Summoning Sinai through The Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice,” in The Significance of Sinai: Traditions about Sinai and Divine Revelation in Judaism and Christianity, ed. George J. Brooke, Hindy Najman, and Loren Stuckenbruck, TBN 13 (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 29–72, esp. 49, 71. 104  A student asks, “‘How many Torahs do you have?’ And Shammai replies, ‘two: written Torah (‫ )תורה שבכתב‬and Oral Torah (‫( ”’)תורה שבעל פה‬b. Shabbat 31a). For the

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have traced this rabbinic concept back to Judaism of the Second Temple period.105 Upon close scrutiny, however, this view is ultimately untenable because, as Steven D. Fraade and others have argued, the Pharisees’ “tradition of the forefathers” (cf. Josephus, Antiquities 13.297) only bears facile similarities with Oral Law.106 In sum, as Jaffee’s survey concludes, there is no evidence that Oral Torah originated in pre-70 CE Pharisaic circles.107 Instead, the concept of Oral Law stems from a later period of Judaism—that is, from a period after the copying or composition of the Dead Sea Scrolls.108 Consequentially, as Joseph Baumgarten correctly cautioned, “One must ask to what extent we are justified in applying the rabbinic categories of Written Law and Oral Law with their distinctive forms of transmission to the period of the Second Temple.”109 Indeed, as I demonstrate below, viewing tradition and transmission through the lens of later rabbinic concepts can potentially distort our mental image of oral tradition, oral authority, and oral transmission in the communities associated with the Scrolls.110 standard description of Oral Law in rabbinic literature, see Jacob Weingreen, From Bible to Mishna: The Continuity of Tradition (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1976), 78–81; Ephraim E. Urbach, The Sages: Their Concepts and Beliefs, trans. Israel Abrahams (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1971), 290–93. 105  For a succinct overview of the complexities of this topic, as well as a bibliography of scholars who argue that Oral Law originated with the Pharisees, see Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth, 39 n.2. 106  Steven D. Fraade, “Literary Composition and Oral Performance in Early Midrashim,” OrTr 14 (1999): 33–51, esp. 37–45. According to Fraade, “All we can establish for certain is that the Pharisees attributed divine authority to ancestral laws not written in the Torah, not necessarily (although possibly) that they preserved or transmitted these laws orally, and even less that they claimed an ultimate Sinaitic origin for them” (“Literary Composition and Oral Performance,” 41). 107  Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth, 39–61, esp. 60–61. See also, Jacob Neusner, “Rabbinic Traditions about the Pharisees before A.D. 70: The Problem of Oral Transmission,” JJS 22 (1971): 1–18. In Jacob Neusner’s words, “The traditions before 70 [CE] are not said to have been orally formulated and orally transmitted in the manner of later rabbinical Tannaim” (“Rabbinic Traditions about the Pharisees,” 18). 108  Joseph M. Baumgarten, Studies in Qumran Law, SJLA 24 (Leiden: Brill, 1977), 13–35. According to Baumgarten, the lack of a finalized biblical canon and of prohibitions against writing sectarian laws undermines the presence of Oral Law (Studies in Qumran Law, 14–18, 35). 109  Baumgarten, Studies in Qumran Law, 14. 110  According to Fraade’s more assertive opinion, “Biblical Israelite and postbiblical Jewish cultures were undoubtedly suffused with oral traditions that accompanied written scriptures and parabiblical texts of many sorts, as is common in all traditional cultures. But to confuse such oral tradition with the Rabbinic fiction of Oral Torah is not only to produce terminological dilution, but to blur a critical ideological and performative

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The foundational studies of Schiffman, an eminent expert in the field of sectarian law in the Dead Sea Scrolls, provide a good illustration of this distortion. According to his critique of Oral Law, for example, written not oral tradition was authoritative, and written not oral transmission was the norm in the communities associated with the Scrolls.111 These views, as I argue below, are a consequence of his inadequate differentiation of oral tradition from Oral Law. In addition, they partly result from his underappreciation of oral performance and progressive revelation. On the one hand, Schiffman underplays the crucial role of oral performance for the generation and promulgation of sectarian laws. On the other hand, he rejects progressive revelation as a source of legal traditions and authoritative interpretation. As my discussion of oral-traditional texts above emphasizes, tradition is delineated neither by oral transmission nor by oral content. Oral tradition can contain both written and oral content; moreover, it can be composed, performed, or transmitted in both oral and textual mediums. The oral-written textuality of tradition in ancient Judaism is a perfect foil for the later rabbis’ artificial dichotomy between Oral Law and written Law: Oral Law is “Torah that is spoken” (‫)תורה שבעל פה‬, whereas written Law is “Torah that is written” (‫)תורה שבכתב‬.112 As Schiffman highlights, Oral Law is a rabbinic category of transmission and, to some extent, composition. According to the rabbis, Oral Law originated orally and was transmitted orally, whereas written Law was originally composed and transmitted in written form.113 “Torah that is written” represents the laws written in the Torah and mediated though the writings of distinction between the Rabbinic culture of the Torah study and its antecedents” (“Literary Composition and Oral Performance,” 42). 111  Lawrence H. Schiffman, The Halakhah at Qumran, SJLA 16 (Leiden: Brill, 1975), 76, 134; idem, Sectarian Law in the Dead Sea Scrolls, 16. 112  As Jaffee and others have correctly argued, this dichotomy was artificial because the rabbinic teachers drew heavily on oral tradition for their textual compositions, which in many cases were themselves subject to reoralization (Torah in the Mouth, 100–125). In Jaffee’s apposite words, there was a “continuous loop of manuscript and performance” (Torah in the Mouth, 124). For more on the interface between orality and writing in rabbinic literature, see Catherine Hezser, “From Oral Conversations to Written Texts: Randomness in the Transmission of Rabbinic Traditions” in The Interface of Orality and Writing: Speaking, Seeing, Writing in the Shaping of New Genres, ed. Annette Weissenrieder and Robert B. Coote, WUNT 260 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 36–51; eadem, Jewish Literacy in Roman Palestine, TSAJ 81 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001), 190–209; Fraade, “Literary Composition and Oral Performance,” 33–51. 113  Schiffman, Halakhah at Qumran, 20. According to Schiffman, the rabbis “argued that Jewish tradition was made up of components originally composed or revealed in written form, and also of material that had originated orally and been transmitted by memory and not by manuscript” (“Memory and Manuscript,” 133).

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the prophet Moses; “Torah that is spoken” represents orally promulgated laws transmitted by word of mouth. When discussing the oral world of the communities associated with the Scrolls, we should delineate these technical, rabbinic terms from the broader concepts of oral tradition and oral transmission. We should correlate neither oral tradition with “Torah that is spoken” (‫ )תורה שבעל פה‬nor written transmission with “Torah that is written” (‫)תורה שבכתב‬, as if these later categories define the only ways in which members of the sectarian communities could possibly perceive tradition and transmission. Although the later rabbis equated Oral Law with oral mediums and written Law with written mediums, the sectarians viewed memory and manuscript as “complementary means for the preservation of revered teachings.”114 As argued by Shemaryahu Talmon, instead of “oral tradition versus written transmission,” written texts and oral traditions were transmitted in both memory and manuscript, by both sound and sight.115 Unfortunately, however, Schiffman’s classic studies on sectarian law fail to adequately distinguish Oral Law from oral tradition. As a result, Schiffman implies that the absence of the former indicates the lack of the latter. According to Schiffman, for example, since the sectarian communities did not hold Oral Law, the only source must be written Law: “Both the Dead Sea sect and the Karaites lack an oral [sic] Law concept. Scripture, then, becomes the sole source of halakhah.”116 Similarly, Schiffman states elsewhere that the “Qumranites never attribute any authority to tradition.”117 In contrast to the later rabbis who believed that some tradition originated orally and was transmitted by memory, “the only medium for memory among the sectarians,” according to Schiffman, 114  As Schiffman points out, the medium was closely connected to the message in rabbinic thought: “When the rabbis prescribed that what in their view had been revealed in writing was to be passed down in writing, and what had been revealed orally was to be transmitted orally, they essentially asserted that to some extent the medium was closely connected to the message” (“Memory and Manuscript,” 133). In contrast to the rabbis, however, the communities associated with the Scrolls did not prescribe an intrinsic link between medium and message. In Shemaryahu Talmon’s words, “Memory and manuscript were not conceived as alternatives, but rather as complementary means for the preservation of revered teachings” (“Oral Tradition and Written Transmission, or the Heard and the Seen Word in Judaism of the Second Temple Period,” in Jesus and the Oral Gospel Tradition, ed. Henry Wansbrough, JSNTSup 64 [Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1991], 121–58, esp. 148–49). 115  Talmon, “Oral Tradition and Written Transmission,” 149–50. 116  Schiffman, Halakhah at Qumran, 134; emphasis added. 117  Schiffman, Sectarian Law, 16. Similarly, Schiffman claims that nistar, the hidden teachings derived from sectarian interpretation, “knows no oral authority” (Halakhah at Qumran, 134).

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was “text and manuscript.”118 In Schiffman’s opinion, only written forms of tradition were authoritative, and “written not oral transmission was the norm.”119 “Authority,” according to Schiffman, “is placed in written texts, rather than in both written and oral traditions.”120 On the one hand, Schiffman’s views on written authority partially stem from his denial of progressive revelation. According to Schiffman, sectarian law was not “dependent on revelation as a continuing process.”121 Contrary to Schiffman, however, as Alex P. Jassen has persuasively demonstrated, authoritative legal traditions were sometimes derived from progressive revelation.122 The sectarians viewed ancient prophets as lawgivers, as inspired recipients of the progressive revelation of law; furthermore, “the community viewed itself as the heir to the ancient prophetic lawgivers and saw its own legislative program as the most recent stage in the prophetic revelation of divine law.”123 Jassen’s summary is worth repeating: The interpretation of the Torah and the formulation of post-biblical law were disclosed to successive generations through a series of later revelations. The community viewed itself as the current beneficiary of this revelation. Its leaders, most notably the Teacher of Righteousness, were regarded as inspired individuals who interpreted the Torah and formulated law based on their status as recipients of legislative revelation. The Qumran rule books represent the record of the legislative activity of these inspired individuals during nightly study sessions.124 The gap between Sinai and the sect was not bridged by a chain of authoritative oral tradition but rather by progressive revelation of law to members and leaders of the sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls. Authority, in

118  Schiffman, “Memory and Manuscript,” 133–34; emphasis added. 119  Schiffman, Sectarian Law, 16; Schiffman, Halakhah at Qumran, 76. 120  In Schiffman’s words, “Regarding the Qumran corpus, we seem to be dealing with a group that places authority in written texts, rather than both written and oral traditions.” (“Memory and Manuscript,” 134). 121  Contrary to Baumgarten’s position that sees “Qumran law as dependent on revelation as a continuing process,” Schiffman asserts that “his [i.e., Baumgarten’s] conclusion cannot be accepted” (Halakhah at Qumran, 76 n.347). For Schiffman, “exegesis (not revelation)” was the basis of legislation in the communities associated with the Scrolls (Halakhah at Qumran, 76 n.347). 122  Jassen, Mediating the Divine, 331–42. See also Baumgarten, Studies in Qumran Law, 29–33. 123  Jassen, “Ancient Prophets as Lawgivers,” 311. 124  Jassen, “Ancient Prophets as Lawgivers,” 308.

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some cases, was derived from the inspired status of the leadership’s teaching, which was endued with special, God-given revelation.125 On the other hand, Schiffman’s views partially result from his underappreciation of oral performance during community meetings. Even in those cases where Rule Texts clearly portray performance of sectarian regulations, such as during nightly study sessions or general membership meetings, Schiffman characterizes oral performance as an essentially text-bound activity: To the sectarians of Qumran, there was a written text that transmitted God’s revealed word, and it was accompanied by exegetical teachings; but … these interpretations were closely based on the written word, and they themselves were always written, even if they may have emerged from discussion—an oral activity to be sure.126 Thus, although Schiffman recognizes that exegesis could have “emerged” from an “oral activity,” authority is only generated once it is written.127 Similarly, elsewhere he states that “many of these laws probably derived at the sessions of the mosheb ha-rabbim [i.e., the general membership meeting], the sect’s legislative judicial assembly.”128 But these “newly derived laws” were not “officially promulgated” until they were arranged in “written lists” called serakhim “after each session.”129 Thus, despite the clearly oral activities that took place at these meetings, he concludes that “Qumran legal traditions are derived exclusively though exegesis.”130 Oral performance at community meetings in which laws were generated, according to Schiffman, is an exclusively textual activity. I have chosen to critique Schiffman’s views not only because they contrast my own but also because his suppositions continue to exert influence on scholarly discussion. Indeed, one could say that Schiffman’s views are emblematic of a broader trend in Scrolls scholarship, particularly in regard to oral authority and sectarian law. For example, according to Jaffee, who is undoubtedly well versed in Schiffman’s studies on sectarian law, There is no suggestion in any of the Yaḥad-related materials, however, that the group assigned authoritative status to an unwritten body of collective tradition on the specific grounds that it had been orally mediated 125  For more on progressive revelation, see my discussion of the Maskil in Chapter 5 §5. 126  Schiffman, “Memory and Manuscript,” 134; emphasis added. 127  Schiffman, “Memory and Manuscript,” 134. 128  Schiffman, Halakhah at Qumran, 76. 129  Schiffman, Halakhah at Qumran, 76. 130  Schiffman, Halakhah at Qumran, 19.

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through ancient tradition. While oral teaching was clearly the norm … the authority of the teaching appears to have been connected inextricably to that of the writings from which it originated. And the definitive expression of its authority was found not in its oral nature, but rather in the fact of its having been itself inscribed on the leaves of scrolls.131 In light of Jaffee’s clear sensitivity to issues surrounding orality, I find his denial of oral authority surprising. While Jaffee correctly asserts that authority is not based (1) on orality per se or (2) on oral transmission (i.e., mediation “through ancient tradition”), he falsely grounds all authority in written texts.132 Similarly, according to Alison Schofield’s brief discussion of oral versus written authority, oral decisions were only binding once they were written down.133 Authority, in her view, “was primarily derived from inspired scriptural exegesis, a text-bound activity.”134 In Schofield’s words, “Can we say that if oral decisions were made, did not the written record of them make them binding? This would be the current author’s preferred explanation, as we have some indication that at least some judicial decisions were made by the rabbim [i.e., ‘the many’].”135 In contradistinction to Schiffman’s position, however, written and oral traditions were authoritative, and written and oral transmission were the norm. According to the Community Rule, as I previously discussed, members “read the Book” and “interpret the ruling” during nightly study sessions. In addition, these activities are organically connected: the content of the ruling derives from reading the Torah and other authoritative texts.136 As a consequence, the inspired exegesis generated during the nightly study session is not portrayed as an exclusively textual activity. Because the Book was engaged through reading—a verb explicitly denoting oral performance, either reading aloud or recitation from memory—written and oral transmission were the norm during the study sessions. In addition to “interpreting the ruling” during nightly study sessions, members were periodically “questioned about the ruling” during general membership meetings:

131  Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth, 37–38; emphasis added. 132  Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth, 17–18, 37–38. 133  Alison Schofield, From Qumran to the Yaḥad: A New Paradigm of Textual Development for the Community Rule, STDJ 77 (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 186–87. 134  Schofield, From Qumran to the Yaḥad, 187. 135  Schofield, From Qumran to the Yaḥad, 186 n.172. 136  Fraade, “Studying Community at Qumran,” 57; Brooke, “Reading, Searching and Blessing,” 145.

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In that order they shall be questioned about the ruling, and any deliberation or matter that may come before the general membership (‫וכן‬ ‫)ישאלו למשפט ולכול עצה ודבר‬, so that each man may state his opinion to the party of the Yaḥad. None should interrupt the words of his comrade, speaking before his brother finishes what he has to say. Neither should anyone speak before another of a higher rank. Only the man being questioned shall speak in his turn. (1QS 6:9–11a)137 According to this passage, each member must undergo an oral examination about the content of the ruling and a number of other legal matters. In other words, sectarian laws were orally transmitted during these convocations. Even more noteworthy, the description of these legal proceedings lacks any explicit reference to a written body of laws as the basis of authority. Metso, as well, finds this striking: “What catches my attention in these passages is the total lack of reference to any written text. The authority for decision-making is granted not to any book but rather to the rabbim [i.e., general membership] (e.g., 1QS 6:8–13), members of the camps (CD 14:3–6), or to the sons of Aaron (1QS 9:7).”138 Overall, as Metso correctly emphasizes, authority during general membership meetings is based on the oral performance of priests (i.e., “the sons of Aaron”) or “the many” (i.e., the general membership). Regarding oral performance, Rule Texts do not present a uniform picture of priestly authority vis-à-vis authority of “the many.” Generally speaking, priests share power with “the many” (4QDa [4Q266] 6 i 4; 1QS 5:1–3, 9, 20–24, 6:18–19). For example, priestly opinion is commensurate with “the many” regarding oral examination and final admittance of initiates (1QS 6:18–19). But if one takes the order of seating and speaking at public meetings as an indicator of hierarchy, then priests are consistently preeminent (CD 14:3–6; 1QS 2:19, 6:8–13). This contradiction is illustrated by variant readings in Cave 4 versions of the Community Rule, particularly in two passages concerning community life (1QS 5:2–3) and admission (1QS 5:8–9). In the Cave 1 copy of the Community Rule, the “sons of Zadok” share authority with “the many.” Two Cave 4 copies of the Community Rule (4QSb,d), however, lack the reference to “the sons of Zadok—priests and preservers of the Covenant,” thereby portraying “the

137  The translation is from Donald W. Parry and Emanuel Tov, eds., The Dead Sea Scrolls Reader, Part 1: Texts Concerned with Religious Law (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 27. 138  Metso, Serekh Texts, 66.

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many” as the sole group in charge (cf. 4QSb [4Q256] IX 2–8; 4QSd [4Q258] I 2–7).139 Whatever the case may be, the point I wish to stress is that both the general membership and the priestly leadership endow oral performance with comprehensive authority to adjudicate “any deliberation or matter” (‫)כול עצה ודבר‬ that may come before the general membership.140 Thus, during these general membership meetings, juridical decisions appear to have been immediately promulgated through the oral performance of “the many” and the priestly leadership. In Metso’s apposite words, “The leading authorities of the community were not so much bound by written regulations as by the oral tradition which was created and transmitted by the priestly members of the community.”141 Thus, contrary to Jaffee, authority is not always based on “the fact of it having been itself inscribed.”142 In this particular performance arena, authority is also derived from the membership’s and the leadership’s oral performance. 4

Oral Transmission

Although the rabbinic category of “Torah that is spoken” (‫ )תורה שבעל פה‬was foreign to the oral world behind the Scrolls, the leadership of the communities associated with the Scrolls still passed on texts and traditions by word of mouth. In this section, I outline two ways in which the sect described (1) orally transmitted instruction and (2) the process of oral transmission. The term “smooth things” (‫ )חלקות‬usually occurs in biblical commentaries as a part of a technical nickname for the sect’s enemies, “the seekers of smooth things” (‫)דורשי החלקות‬. In this sense, “smooth things” refers to incorrect interpretations of authoritative texts. They are “smooth” because they are relatively easy 139  Sarianna Metso, The Textual Development of the Qumran Community Rule, STDJ 21 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 27–28, 41–42, 78, 122; Hempel, “Community Structures,” 82–84. For the text and translation of the parallel passages in 4QSb (4Q256) and 4QSd (4Q258), see DSSR 1:42–43, 48–49. 140  Alternatively, according to Schofield’s interpretation, “It is certainly feasible that Yaḥad members arrived at some decisions via oral consultation. The governing body of the ‘Many’ did have a type of judicial function, but the texts connect it specifically with deciding whether or not an initiate should be admitted to the community. If other oral decisions were reached jointly, we may never know” (From Qumran to the Yaḥad, 187). In light of the above study, this conclusion cannot be accepted. Oral authority was not limited to decisions regarding admission. 141  Metso, “Sitz im Leben of the Community Rule,” 314. 142  Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth, 38.

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yet absolutely false. In addition to this meaning, however, the term “smooth things” connotes orally transmitted pedagogy that distorts the true interpretation of God’s laws. Like delusive lawyers who abuse the proper intention of law, the sect’s opponents pass on smooth words that exchange truth for falsehood. The usage of “hold fast” (‫ )תמך‬in the Dead Sea Scrolls is illuminated by the Hebrew Bible, where “hold fast” primarily occurs in wisdom literature but is also found in Psalms.143 Generally speaking, the verb “hold fast” (‫ )תמך‬describes the acceptance of God’s truth, laws, mysteries, and wisdom. Indeed, the verb “hold fast” (‫ )תמך‬occurs almost exclusively with human subjects and abstract objects such as “covenant” (‫)ברית‬,144 “truth” (‫)אמת‬,145 “mysteries” (‫)רזים‬,146 “laws” (‫)חוקים‬,147 and “ways” (‫)דרכים‬.148 In fact, the dominant morphological form of “hold fast” (‫ )תמך‬is a plural participle in construct with one of these abstract concepts, connoting both “adherence” and “adherents.”149 In addition, as I argue below, three special constructions correlate “hold fast” (‫ )תמך‬and “tightly grasp” (‫ )חזק‬with oral transmission: “hold fast to wisdom,” “those who hold fast to mysteries,” and “holding fast to your covenant.” 4.1 Smooth Words In the biblical commentaries, such as the Isaiah Pesher and the Nahum Pesher, “smooth things” occurs as a part of a derogatory sobriquet for the sect’s 143  Ten out of twenty-one total occurrences in the Hebrew Bible are in Proverbs and Job, and four are in Psalms. In the Scrolls, “hold fast” is concentrated in sapiential texts, such as Wiles of the Wicked Woman (4Q184 1 3, 4Q184 1 9), Beatitudes (4Q525 2–3 ii 1 [2X], 4Q525 11–12 2), and Mysteries (1Q27 1 i 7; 4Q299 3a–b ii 9, 4Q299 6 ii 4, 4Q299 43 2; 4Q300 8 5; 4Q301 1 2). But it also occurs relatively frequently in the Hodayot (1QHa 10:23, 12:23, 15:23, 22:14; 4Q432 7 4) and sporadically in “parabiblical” writings (4Q382 104 1; 4Q442 3 5). 144  Cf. 1QHa 10:23, 22:14; 4Q382 104 1. 145  Cf. 1QHa 15:23. 146  Cf. 1Q27 1 i 7; 4Q299 43 2; 4Q300 8 5; 4Q301 1 2. 147  Cf. 4Q525 2–3 ii 1. 148  Cf. 4Q525 2–3 ii 1; CD 20:18. In a few exceptional instances, this verb occurs with both concrete and abstract objects. In 4Q184, for example, the antagonist “holds fast” to the pit, while her victims “hold fast” to her (4Q184 1 3, 4Q184 1 9). This also seems to be the manner in which “hold fast” (‫ )תמך‬is used in Beatitudes (4Q525) and “tightly grasp” (‫ )חזק‬is used in Wisdom Composition (4Q185). In Beatitudes, for example, “hold fast” occurs in an abstract sense of holding tightly to personified wisdom or Torah (4Q525 11–12 2) and God (1QHa 12:23). 149  Although ‫ תמך‬denotes “to hold fast,” the plural participle, literally, “those who hold fast,” also means “adherents.” In fact, the dominant morphological form of “hold fast” (‫)תמך‬ is participial: half of the occurrences are masculine plural participles in construct state (1Q27 1 i 7; 4Q184 1 9; 4Q299 3a–b ii 9, 4Q299 6 ii 4, 4Q299 43 2; 4Q300 8 5; 4Q301 1 2; 4Q525 2–3 ii 1, 4Q525 11–12 2).

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opponents—namely, “the seekers of smooth things” (‫)דורשי החלקות‬.150 This technical nickname is based on Isaiah 30:9–11, where Judah, a rebellious nation and faithless people, refuses to hear God’s instruction through the voice of God’s prophets. According to Isaiah 30:10, the people of Judah tell their seers not to prophesy what is right but rather to “speak to us smooth things” (‫דברו‬ ‫ )לנו חלקות‬and “prophesy illusions.” “Smooth things,” according to this passage in Isaiah, describes comforting yet false words, which contrast the harsh truth of Isaiah’s oracles. A different meaning of “smooth things” comes to the fore in the Scrolls, however. According to a passage near the beginning of the Damascus Document, the previous generations violated God’s covenant because they “sought smooth things” (‫ )דרשו בחלקות‬and “chose illusions” (CD 1:18; cf. Isa 30:10). But according to this passage, “smooth things” appears to describe fallacious interpretation of authoritative texts—interpretations based on legal loopholes and liberal hermeneutics (CD 1:18–19). Similarly, according to the Nahum Pesher’s symbolic interpretation of Nahum 3:8, God’s destruction of Nineveh represents the future destruction of “the seekers of smooth things,” who will no longer cause the speaker’s community to “err” (‫ )לתעות‬by “tightly grasping” (‫ )יחזקו‬false counsel (4Q169 3–4 iii 6–8). Both the Community Rule and the Nahum Pesher associate “smooth things” with the verb “to seek, search or interpret” (‫)דרש‬, “which should be understood in the technical sense” of “examining scripture to discover its practical application.”151 Overall, as illustrated by these passages, “smooth things” in the Scrolls often denotes incorrect interpretations promoted by the sect’s opponents. Yet another connotation is nuanced in the Hodayot, however, where “smooth things” describes false oral pedagogy of authoritative texts or, more specifically, orally transmitted interpretation that distorts God’s laws. False prophets intentionally exchange truth for falsehood when they utter “lies like truth,” deceptively twisting God’s words into laws contrary to his commands.152 According to hodayah 12:6–13:6, for example, the sect’s opponents are “deceitful interpreters” (‫ )מליצי רמיה‬who use “slippery words” (‫[ו]בדברים החליקו‬ ‫ )למו‬to lead the speaker’s community astray (1QHa 12:8).153 By means of 150  Cf. 4Q163 23 ii 10; 4Q169 3–4 iii 3–7. For an overview of this usage, see Albert Baumgarten, “Seekers after Smooth Things,” EDSS 2:857–59. 151  Baumgarten, “Seekers after Smooth Things,” 2:857. See also Schiffman, Halakhah at Qumran, 54–60. 152  I borrow this simile from Shakespeare (Macbeth). 153  Cf. also 1QHa 10:33–34 of hodayah 10:33–11:5, where the speaker thanks God for his deliverance from “lying interpreters” (‫ )מליצי כזב‬who belong to “the congregation of those who seek smooth things” (‫)ומעדת דורשי חלקות‬.

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their fraudulent teachings masquerading as true interpretation, these “lying interpreters” (‫ )מליצי כזב‬counterfeit the Law, “exchanging” God’s Torah (‫להמיר‬ ‫ )תורתכה‬for “slippery words” (‫)בחלקות‬.154 But the speaker peels away their deceptive veneer, exposing the ugly truth: the smooth words of these “deceitful seers” (‫ )חוזי רמיה‬are only a cheap forgery in comparison to the authentic Law God repeatedly spoke in his heart.155 In two sapiential compositions—Wisdom Composition (4Q185) and Wiles of the Wicked Woman (4Q184)—“smooth words” describes orally transmitted pedagogy that distorts God’s wisdom and laws (e.g., 4Q185 1–2 ii 11–15; 4Q184 1 14–17). Although these compositions were probably not sectarian, technical terminology such as “smooth things” certainly would have been read from a sectarian perspective.156 The author of Wiles of the Wicked Woman, a sapiential composition influenced by many motifs from Proverbs, portrays “smooth words” as false oral pedagogy that distorts the proper interpretation of God’s commandments.157 Wiles of the Wicked Woman (4Q184) features a seductress who has been thought to be an allegory for Simon Maccabee,158 an ideologically hostile group,159 or even an illustration of the gynophobia of the sect.160 In my view, however, the seductress personifies death, and her smooth speech symbolizes the false oral pedagogy decried in Proverbs (Prov 4:24; 7:5, 21; 22:14). The “smooth speech” (‫ )תח[לי]ק‬of the seductress constantly seeks 154  1QHa 12:10–12. Similarly, according to hodayah 10:5–10:21, although the speaker is an expert interpreter of wonderful mysteries, lying interpreters have actually distorted his God-given instruction and understanding by means of smooth words from “uncircumcised lips and an alien tongue” (1QHa 10:15–21). 155  According to this passage, God repeatedly spoke the Law in the speaker’s heart, as if the Law was permanently fixed in his memory by God himself. Elsewhere, God inscribes the Law on the speaker’s heart of stone (cf. 1QHa 16:38, 21:13, 23:11). 156  As Daniel J. Harrington has argued, although it is by no means certain that Wiles of the Wicked Woman (4Q184) is sectarian, “at least its content and terminology would have appealed to and have been readily appropriated by the Qumran sectarians” (Wisdom Texts from Qumran [London: Routledge, 1996], 34). See also, Anatole M. Gazov-Ginzberg, “Double-Meaning in a Qumran Work: The Wiles of the Wicked Woman,” RevQ 22 (1967): 279–85. 157  For an overview of 4Q184’s themes and their relationship to conventional wisdom motifs, see Matthew J. Goff, Discerning Wisdom: The Sapiential Literature of the Dead Sea Scrolls, VTSup 116 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 104–18. 158  Hans Burgmann, “The Wicked Woman: Der Makkabäer Simon?” RevQ 31 (1974): 323–59. 159  John M. Allegro, “The Wiles of the Wicked Woman: A Sapiential Work from Qumran’s Fourth Cave,” PEQ 96 (1964): 53–55; Jean Carmignac, “Poème allégorique sur la secte rivale,” RevQ 19 (1965): 361–74. 160  Magen Broshi, “Beware the Wiles of the Wanton Woman: Dead Sea Scroll Fragment Reflects Essene Fear of, and Contempt for, Women,” BAR 9.4 (1983): 54–56.

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errors (‫)תועות‬, and her “smooth words” (‫ )חלקות‬lead one down the path of death (4Q184 1 1–2, 17).161 More importantly for my present interests, the author(s) of 4Q184 imply that “smooth words” are dangerous because they change God’s laws. This interpretation is underscored by the poem’s denouement, which lists the seductress’s nefarious, custom-tailored goals for various types of victims (4Q184 1 13b–17). As the final, summarizing poetic line emphasizes (4Q184 1 17), the seductress accomplishes her overarching goal with all of mankind through speech: “to lead mankind astray in the ways of the pit, and to entice all the sons of man with smooth words” (‫)להשגות אנוש בדרכי שוחה ולפתות בחלקות [כל] בני איש‬. Her “smooth words” are dangerous not only because they entice one to turn off the path of wisdom but also because they persuade one to sin against God by changing received tradition. According to 4Q184 1 14–15, her speech seduces the righteous from faithfully “keeping the commandment” (‫ולבחירי צדק מנצור‬ ‫ )[מ]צוה‬and tempts the upright to “alter the statute” (‫)והולכי ישר להשנות ח[ו]ק‬. Her speech is deadly, in part, for it distorts the proper interpretation of God’s commandments.162 4.2 Hold Fast Three special constructions illustrate how “hold fast” (‫ )תמך‬and “tightly grasp” (‫ )חזק‬denotes receiving, embracing, or passing on tradition. The first special construction, “hold fast” or “tightly grasp” wisdom, emphasizes acceptance and transmission of correct oral pedagogy.163 In Wisdom Composition (4Q185), a sapiential text concerned with the proper observance of wisdom, the sage instructs the reader to “see[k her] and find her, tightly grasp her and claim her as an inheritance” (‫( )וחזק בה ונחלה‬4Q185 1–2 ii 11–12).164 In the ensuing lines, the sage both proscribes and prescribes how one should seek, tightly grasp, and inherit Lady Wisdom (4Q185 1–2 ii 13–15). One should neither seek her with “treachery” nor tightly grasp her with “smooth words” (‫מרמה לא יבקשנה‬ ‫) ובחלקות לא יחזיקנה‬. Instead, the author instructs his addressee to “tightly 161  In contrast to Lady Wisdom’s verbal counsel in Proverbs, which guides the student up the path of life (Prov 6:21–22), the seductress’s smooth words “lead mankind in the ways of the pit” (4Q184 1 17). 162  In a similar vein, according to the author(s) of Wisdom Composition (4Q185), a sapiential text concerned with the proper observance of wisdom, smooth words represent orally transmitted pedagogy that has distorted Lady Wisdom (see below). 163  This expression only occurs in sapiential texts (e.g., 4Q525 11–12 2; 4Q185 1–2 ii 11–12). 164  My translation of Wisdom Composition (4Q185) incorporates John Strugnell’s notes (“Notes en marge du volume V des ‘Discoveries in the Judaean Desert of Jordan,’” RevQ 26 [1970]: 163–276, esp. 271).

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grasp” and “inherit” Lady Wisdom in continuity with his ancestors: “Just as she was given to one’s fathers, so he will inherit her and [tightly grasp] her” (‫)כן תתן לאבתיו כן ירשנה [וחזק] בה‬.165 Furthermore, as the passage continues, “he will give her as an inheritance to his offspring” (‫)ויורישנה לצאצאיו‬. Proverbs 3 offers a key to unlock the meaning of “tightly grasp” in this passage. Similar to Proverbs, Wisdom Composition (4Q185) frames the acquisition of wisdom within a dramatic setting of oral counsel. According to Proverbs 3, the sage exhorts his student to listen to his teaching (Prov 3:1) by “holding fast” and “tightly grasping” wisdom once she has been discovered (Prov 3:13, 18). There is a similar pedagogical nuance in Wisdom Composition (4Q185), where “tightly grasp” describes acceptance of correct oral pedagogy. But in both Proverbs and Wisdom Composition (4Q185), “tightly grasp” describes more than mental acceptance of proper knowledge; “grasping” is the means by which one learns, observes, and transmits wisdom. More specifically, “tightly grasping” in Wisdom Composition (4Q185) is equated with claiming one’s inheritance. The term “inheritance” in the Dead Sea Scrolls has wide-ranging connotations.166 Most basically, inheritance describes hereditary property as well as a spiritual allotment given to individuals in the present and in the eschatological future. In addition, “inheritance” can describe a person’s elect (or non-elect) status predetermined by God. Most importantly, claiming your elect status—your inheritance—includes accessing inspired interpretation and supernatural revelation in the form of “wonderful mysteries” and the “mystery of existence” (cf. 4Q416 2 iii 8–18). Members of the sectarian communities probably had this latter sense of inheritance in mind, because this passage in 4Q185 associates inheritance with tradition that the addressee aurally receives from his ancestors and orally passes along to his offspring.167 If the addressee tightly grasps the wisdom that was given to his fathers “with all the power of his strength” (‫)בכל עוז כחו‬, then the wisdom of his generation will remain consistent with the wisdom of the previous and subsequent generations (4Q185 1–2 ii 15). In contradistinction, if the addressee tightly grasps wisdom with “smooth words”—that is, with oral pedagogy that distorts God’s wisdom and laws—then he will pass along to posterity something that he did not inherit from his forefathers, a treacherous deceit that has distorted Lady Wisdom. 165  Concerning this reconstruction, see Strugnell, “Notes en marge du volume V,” 271. 166  For a brief overview of the term, see Jean-Sébastien Rey, 4QInstruction: Sagesse et eschatology, STDJ 81 (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 56–57; Goff, 4QInstruction, 101–2. 167  Likewise, the authors of 4Q184 also parallel “holding fast” with “inheriting”: “Alas! She is destruction for all who inherit her, and calamity for a[ll] who grasp her” (4Q184 1 8–9).

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A second special construction, “those who hold fast to mysteries” (‫תומכי‬ ‫)רזים‬, occurs exclusively in Mysteries, where it designates those who transmit

correct oral tradition—namely, those who learn and teach a proper understanding of mysteries.168 As I outlined above, “mysteries” denote an exclusive, esoteric, and authoritative body of knowledge that was orally transmitted by inspired teachers. But like all knowledge from the sect’s dualistic worldview, mysteries were either good or evil, either true knowledge or false indoctrination. Thus, in addition to the mysteries discussed above, “mysteries of Belial” and “mysteries of sin” also occur in the Scrolls.169 The authors of Mysteries, for example, contrast those who properly grasp “good” mysteries, such as the “mystery of existence,” with those who adhere to the “evil” mysteries, such as the “mysteries of sin.”170 According to Mysteries, since the sect’s opponents are unable to tell the difference between truth and falsehood, they mistakenly seek “mysteries of sin” rather than the “mystery of existence” (1Q27 1 i 2–7). As pointed out by Thomas, the “mysteries of sin” are taught by “magicians who are skilled in transgression,” wayward interpreters who misunderstand Israel’s traditions (4Q300 1a ii–b 1–6).171 With this in mind, “those who hold fast to mysteries” describes those who transmit correct oral tradition (a correct understanding of the “mystery of existence”), whereas those who adhere to the “mysteries of sin” describes those who transmit false oral tradition (an incorrect understanding of the “mysteries”).172 Overall, as these examples evidence, the sectarian communities behind the Dead Sea Scrolls also characterized their opponents’ oral tradition as “mysteries”; moreover, they used “holding fast” to describe the transmission of oral tradition, both true and false. A third special construction, “to hold fast to your covenant” (‫)תמך בבריתכה‬, expresses the membership’s adherence to sectarian regulations and describes the leadership’s oral transmission of authoritative interpretation. 168  In fact, every attestation of the verb ‫ תמך‬in Mysteries is a plural participle with a nomen rectum of ‫רז‬. One occurrence contains the plural ‫( רזים‬4Q300 8 5) and another offers the only fully extant example of “wonderful mysteries” (‫ )רזי פלא‬with ‫( תמך‬1Q27 1 i 7). The other four remaining occurrences are too fragmentary to discern the form of ‫רז‬. 169  Thomas, The “Mysteries” of Qumran, 156–57. 170  Cf. 1Q27 1 i 2–7. Thomas, The “Mysteries” of Qumran, 156. 171  Thomas, The “Mysteries” of Qumran, 159. Similarly, according to the Hodayot, “mysteries of sin” characterize false tradition that alters the works of God (1QHa 13:38, 24:9). 172  Thomas, The “Mysteries” of Qumran, 157. The “adherents to the mysteries” (‫)תומכי רזים‬ or the “adherents to wonderful mysteries” (‫ )תומכי רזי פלא‬are also compared with the “explorers of the roots of understanding” (4Q301 1 2) (Thomas, The “Mysteries” of Qumran, 158–59). Perhaps, as Goff argues, these “explorers of the roots of understanding” are angels (4QInstruction, 218). In any case, “holding fast” indicates acceptance of oral instruction.

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This expression primarily occurs in the Hodayot (1QHa 10:23–24, 12:2; cf. also 4Q382 104 1). But similar phrases, particularly with the synonym “tightly grasp” (‫)חזק‬, occur in the Hodayot and Rule Texts.173 According to the sect’s cultural memory of ancient Israel, their ancestors were abandoned by God because they “abandoned God’s covenant” (CD 3:11).174 Eventually, however, because some of the remaining faithful “tightly grasped the commandments of God (‫)ובמחזיקים במצות אל‬,” God reinstituted a covenant with them, revealing “the hidden things in which all Israel had gone wrong” (CD 3:12–13; cf. also CD 7:13). Members are therefore “those who tightly grasp the covenant” (‫;[מחזי]קי הברית‬ 4Q267 3 4) and “tightly grasp” the laws of the covenant (‫וכל המחזיקים במשפטים‬ ‫ ;האלה‬CD 20:27). Consequentially, God’s curses fall on anyone who enters this covenant but does not “tightly grasp” these “commandments” and “statutes” (cf. CD 19:5, 14). As these passages indicate, “hold fast to your covenant” describes keeping the hidden and revealed laws of the sect. More importantly, the idiom of “firmly grasping” or “holding fast” God’s covenant expresses the oral transmission of authoritative interpretation. “Holding fast” describes keeping the Law as it has been interpreted and passed on through the leadership’s oral instruction. In hodayah 15:9–28, for example, the speaker’s God-given instruction results from grasping God’s covenant: “You caused [me] to ti[ghtly grasp] your covenant (‫)ות[חזק]נ[י] בבריתכה‬, and my tongue has become like (the tongues of) those taught by you” (1QHa 15:13).175 This passage places the speaker’s oral instruction in continuity with other divinely inspired teachers. Moreover, the speaker affirms his fatherly responsibility to nurture his children (i.e., educate his community) with God’s teachings and truth, which stem from being “stationed” (‫ )העמדתני‬in God’s covenant (1QHa 15:22–23). Similarly, according to hodayah 12:6–13:6, the leader declares to God, “You have illumined my face for your covenant” (1QHa 12:6) and “through me you have illumined the faces of many” (1QHa 12:28). The speaker’s ancestors rose up against God’s covenant (1QHa 12:35), and his opponents have deserted God’s covenant (1QHa 12:20), but those who walk in the way of God’s heart “listen” to him (1QHa 12:24–26). Because the speaker holds fast to God (‫;בתומכי בכה‬ 1QHa 12:23) and tightly grasps God’s covenant (‫ ;אתחזקה בבריתכה‬1QHa 12:40), he is able to instruct community members when they gather together for God’s 173  1QHa 10:30, 12:40, 23:10; 1QS 5:3; 1QSb 3:23; 4Q267 3 4. Cf. also “stationed in your covenant” (‫ )העמדתני לבריתכה‬in 1QHa 15:22–23. 174  Similarly, according to the Hodayot, the community defined itself in contrast to those “who have been abandoned far from God’s covenant” (1QHa 12:36). 175  This is my translation.

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covenant: “You have not covered in shame the faces of all who have been examined by me, who have gathered together for your covenant” (1QHa 12:24–25).176 5 Conclusion This chapter continues my examination of the oral communities associated with the Dead Sea Scrolls. More specifically, I argue that oral tradition, oraltraditional texts, and oral transmission played an integral role in the daily lives of all members and leaders of the sectarian movement. These facets of orality become particularly clear when viewed through the through the lens of Foley’s fourfold media taxonomy: (1) Oral Performance, (2) Voiced Texts, (3) Written Oral Poems, and (4) Voices from the Past. In particular, Foley’s media taxonomy helps clarify two bodies of ancient Jewish oral tradition evidenced by the Dead Sea Scrolls called (1) “hidden” or “revealed” things and (2) “mysteries.” The first body of oral tradition consists of sectarian regulations and authoritative interpretation that God reveals through inspired exegesis. In addition, these laws constitute the ruling, an oral-traditional text generated from oral performance during community meetings. According to Foley’s typology of oral-traditional texts, the ruling is a “Voice from the Past,” as it was transmitted in both oral and textual mediums, but written records only preserve a trace of the larger body of “hidden” and “revealed” laws. The second body of tradition, described by diverse constructions with the term “mystery,” consists of multiple bodies of esoteric knowledge, which were taught and transmitted by inspired teachers. These mysteries twice constitute specific oral-traditional texts called the “mystery of existence” and “wonderful mysteries.” According to Foley’s typology, the mystery of existence and the wonderful mysteries are examples, albeit non-paradigmatic, of Oral Performance. Despite being partly inscribed in written texts, these oral-traditional texts are “Oral Performance” because they were primarily a record after the fact, a report of oral performance. In the body of this chapter, I used Schiffman’s influential views as a foil for a new theory of oral authority, oral tradition, and oral transmission in the communities associated with the Scrolls. Although Schiffman correctly denies that Oral Law was the source of sectarian laws, he does not adequately differentiate 176  In Rule Texts as well, “tightly grasping” God’s covenant describes keeping the Law as it has been interpreted and passed on through the leadership’s oral instruction. As indicated by the rules governing admission in the Community Rule (1QS 5:1–3), members must swear to “tightly grasp” (‫ )ולהחזיק‬all that God commanded as interpreted by the community— that is, the Law as it has been passed on to the initiate by the priests and by the majority who “hold fast to the covenant” (‫)המחזקים בברית‬.

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this rabbinic concept from the broader notion of oral tradition. Despite the lack of “Torah that is spoken” (‫ )תורה שבעל פה‬and “Torah that is written” (‫תורה‬ ‫)שבכתב‬, the leaders of the sectarian communities still passed on texts and traditions by word of mouth. Moreover, Schiffman’s studies underappreciate the crucial role of oral performance and progressive revelation in the generation of sectarian regulations. As a result, he holds that written not oral tradition was authoritative and that written not oral transmission was the norm. In contradistinction to Schiffman, however, I demonstrate that written and oral traditions were authoritative and that written and oral transmission were the norm. In certain performance arenas, such as the general membership meetings, sectarian regulations were taught through oral performance apart from written texts. During this meeting, legal authority was derived from the membership’s and the leadership’s oral performance, not from a written text. In the final section, I explored verbiage in the Scrolls that corroborates the existence of oral transmission in the sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls. Some expressions with the phrase “smooth things” denote orally transmitted material, and three constructions with the verb “hold fast” describe processes of oral transmission. In biblical commentaries, “smooth things” (‫)חלקות‬ refers to incorrect interpretations of the sect’s opponents. The authors of two sapiential texts (4Q184 and 4Q185) and the Hodayot, however, portray “smooth things” as orally transmitted pedagogy that distorts the true interpretation of God’s laws. In addition to “smooth things,” three special constructions with “hold fast” (‫ )תמך‬and “tightly grasp” (‫ )חזק‬testify to the existence of oral transmission in the sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls. The first special construction, “hold fast to wisdom” connotes acceptance and transmission of correct oral pedagogy. A second special construction, “those who hold fast to mysteries,” describes those who transmit proper oral tradition. A third special construction, “to hold fast to your covenant,” designates the oral transmission of authoritative interpretation. Overall, the verbs “hold fast” (‫ )תמך‬and “tightly grasp” (‫ )חזק‬often denote aural reception and oral transmission of tradition.

chapter 3

Oral-Written Textuality In the next two chapters, I turn my attention to an examination of the Dead Sea Scrolls as a written medium, and I explore the oral-written textuality of the Dead Sea Scrolls. As I outlined in the introduction, the ancient Jewish communities associated with the Scrolls were both oral and textual communities (or oral-textual communities). Like the majority of ancient Jews, the members of these communities defined themselves in part through the oral performance of both texts and traditions. As a result, an interface between orality and textuality was interwoven into the fabric of daily existence for most ancient Jews. Moreover, as I argue in the next two chapters, texts often exhibited characteristics of both written works and spoken words. Oral-written textuality, like most every other aspect of orality, is a difficult concept to define. As you may recall, I previously asserted that we obviously cannot hear the spoken word in ancient texts—that is, the actual oral communication of ancient people is beyond our reach. To be sure, as most scholars reasonably assume, we cannot hear one iota of one syllable from ancient texts as they were actually spoken. All that remains of the spoken word are written texts. In the next two chapters, however, I examine textual features and scribal practices that represent how ancient texts were spoken and heard. In this sense, as I argue below, the Dead Sea Scrolls reveal something about the actual oral communication of ancient readers. The oral communication of ancient people is therefore not entirely beyond our reach because ancient manuscripts (including certain Dead Sea Scrolls) reflect both speech and writing, both spoken performance and written format. This, in a nutshell, is oralwritten textuality. In this chapter, I scrutinize the most striking illustration of the oral-written textuality in the Scrolls—namely, stichography. Stichographic arrangements are principally found in copies of poetic song and sapiential poetry from the Hebrew Bible. The “sticho-” of stichography derives from the Greek word stichos (στίχος), which denotes a “line” of prose or poetry, and the suffix “-graphy” derives from the Greek verb “to write” (γράφειν). From an etymological perspective, stichography therefore denotes “line-writing.” Stichography should be contrasted with scriptio continua, the normal procedure of writing and copying ancient texts. The vast majority of the Dead Sea Scrolls are written in a “continuous script” without spacing or punctuation between lines. By way of contrast, stichography divides a text into poetic lines (i.e., line-writing) with

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | doi:10.1163/9789004408203_005

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spacing, margins, and column lineation. In the Dead Sea Scrolls, the length of these lines was in part determined by a variety of factors including the system of stichography (see below). Depending upon the system, a scribe would delimit hemistichs, cola, or lines (e.g., bicola or tricola).1 The following table, which compares a passage (Exodus 15:16b–18) from the Song of the Sea (Exodus 15) in two different scrolls, illustrates how stichography demarcates a text: table 2

Continuous script versus stichography

Continuous Script: 4QExodc (4Q14)

Stichographic: 4QPentateuchc (4Q365)

Until they pass over, your people, O Lord; until they pas[s] over, [this] people whom you have bought. You will bring them and plant them in the mountain of [your] inheritance. [A place for your dwelling, you have made], O Lord. A sanctuary of the Lord, your hands have established. The Lord will rule forever and ever.a

Until t[hey pass over, vacat your people, O Lord; vacat until they pass over, vacat this people whom you have bought. vacat You will bring them and plant them] in the mountain of your inheritance. vacat A place for yo[ur] dwelling, [vacat you have made, O Lord. vacat A sanctuary of the Lord, vacat your hands have established.] The Lord will rule forever and ever. vacat

a Unless otherwise stated, all translations and transcriptions in this chapter are mine.

4Q365 is one of the five MSS belonging to 4QPentateuch (previously known as 4QReworkedPentateuch), which contains portions from all five books of the Torah.2 4Q14 is another fragmentary copy of the book of Exodus written in continuous script. As the comparison displays, the scribe of 4QPentateuchc

1  Although I prefer the term colon, stich and colon are synonyms. Whereas a colon or stich is (1) a single line of poetry (monocolon) or (2) a part of a larger grouping of cola (bicolon line or tricolon line), a hemistich is a subdivision of a colon, generally equal to half of a colon or stich. Concerning the poetic structure of Hebrew poetry and the definition of poetic lines (monocolon, bicolon, tricolon, etc.), see Wilfred G. E. Watson, Classical Hebrew Poetry: A Guide to Its Techniques, JSOTSup 26 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1984), 168–85. 2  Unfortunately, only a small portion of its stichographic rendition of the Song of the Sea remains (Exod 15:16b–19). For an introduction to 4QPentateuch, see Molly M. Zahn, Rethinking Rewritten Scripture: Composition and Exegesis in the 4QReworked Pentateuch Manuscripts, STDJ 95 (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 1–12.

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(4Q365) placed several vacats between hemistiches and cola in the Song of the Sea. In this manner, stichography demarcates lines of Hebrew poetry. Overall, stichography reflects an interface between the written tradition and the performative tradition of poetic songs. Stichography demonstrates that the scribes who produced the Dead Sea Scrolls were both (1) copyists who reproduced the (written) text of compositions and (2) performers who incorporated the oral register of language into their written copies.3 On the one hand, stichography functions as a writing practice. Viewed from this perspective, stichography graphically represents a scribal interpretation of parallelism and cola. Stichography visually structures a text according to poetry’s basic building blocks, which in turn are determined by various aspects of parallelism. On the other hand, stichography represents scribal performance. From this vantage point, stichography graphically displays a scribal understanding of the manner in which compositions were read. Beyond mere copyists, scribes were performers who incorporated their understanding of spoken communication into their written copies. Just as a musical piece may be scored for ease of performance, a stichographic arrangement provides what Katherine O’Brien O’Keeffe calls a “visible song,” a convenient reference point for recitation (see below). Stichographically arranged copies of biblical poetry were likely read in a variety of liturgical and pedagogical contexts within Judaism of the Second Temple period. In particular, the formatted reference point provided by stichographic arrangements would have been ideal for communal gatherings that centered on the public reading of Scripture. 1

Stichometry and Colometry

Emanuel Tov has done the most extensive survey of stichographic texts to date.4 I have already proposed emendations to several details of his survey 3  An oral register is a linguistic repertoire associated with spoken communication. Concerning this definition of “oral register,” see Susan Niditch, Oral World and Written Word: Ancient Israelite Literature (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1996), 10; Asif Agha, “Register,” in Key Terms in Language and Culture, ed. Alessandro Duranti (Oxford: Blackwell, 2001), 212–15; M. A. K. Halliday, Language as a Social Semiotic: The Social Interpretation of Language and Meaning (London: University Park Press, 1978), 111; Dell Hymes, “Ways of Speaking,” in Explorations in the Ethnography of Speaking, ed. Richard Bauman and Joel Sherzer (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 433–75, esp. 440. 4  Emanuel Tov, Scribal Practices and Approaches Reflected in the Texts Found in the Judean Desert, STDJ 54 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2004), 166–73. For an updated version of his survey, see idem, “The Background of the Stichometric Arrangements of Poetry in the Judean Desert Scrolls,” in Prayer and Poetry in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature: Essays in Honor of

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that need not be recapitulated here.5 But I should stress one important point of terminological clarification that I have not yet had an opportunity to discuss. Although Tov and others conflate stichography with stichometry, these terms should not be used interchangeably.6 To my knowledge, James L. Kugel first coined the term stichography to describe this spacing technique in the Dead Sea Scrolls.7 With his tongue planted firmly in his cheek, Kugel observes that stichometry is “too bookish a word to be wrongly used”; even more importantly, Kugel posits that stichography is more precise.8 Stichography describes the graphical delimitation of poetic lines, whereas stichometry refers to the practice of measuring and counting lines (see below). In the Greco-Roman world, the length of books was sometimes measured in lines, much like books are measured in pages in the post-Gutenberg world.9 Stichometry had several practical applications, such as (1) determining the pay of scribes or the cost of books, (2) citing passages and cataloging books, and (3) verifying scribal work (the correct length of copied texts).10 A far more appropriate synonym for stichography would be “colometry,” the ancient Greek scribal practice of dividing cola or lines with column lineation. Similar to stichography, colometry is a form of sense division—that is, it

Eileen M. Schuller on the Occasion of Her 65th Birthday, ed. Jeremy Penner, Ken Penner, and Cecilia Wassen, STDJ 98 (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 409–20. 5  Shem Miller, “Multiformity of Stichographic Systems in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” RevQ 29 (2017): 219–45; idem, “The Oral-Written Textuality of Stichographic Poetry in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” DSD 22 (2015): 162–88. 6  Scholars of Christianity and Judaism in antiquity often use stichometry as a synonym for stichography. Although Tov maintains a terminological distinction between these two terms in Scribal Practices, his most recent survey conflates these two terms (“Background of the Stichometric Arrangements,” 409). This has undoubtedly influenced subsequent treatments. See, for example, Kipp Davis, “Structure, Stichometry, and Standardization: An Analysis of Scribal Features in a Selection of the Dead Sea Psalms Scrolls,” in Functions of Psalms and Prayers in the Late Second Temple Period, ed. Mika S. Pajunen and Jeremy Penner, BZAW 486 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2017), 155–84. According to Kipp Davis, “Emanuel Tov points to 30 scrolls from the Judaean Desert that are structured in a ‘stichographic’ or ‘stichometric’ arrangement” (“Structure, Stichometry, and Standardization,” 162). Notice that Davis uses “stichometry” in the title (similar to Tov’s most recent study on the topic). 7  James L. Kugel, The Idea of Biblical Poetry: Parallelism and Its History (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1981), 119. 8  According to Kugel, “The spacing of verses or verses-halves is nowadays generally called ‘stichometry,’ but the term ‘stichography’ is in fact more precise” (Idea of Biblical Poetry, 119). 9   J. Rendel Harris, “Stichometry,” AJP 4 (1883): 133–57, esp. 135–36. 10  Harris, “Stichometry,” 135–36, 154–57; Kurt Ohly, Stichometrische Untersuchungen, BZB 61 (Leipzig: Otto Harrassowitz, 1928), 86–126.

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determines the line length by sense.11 By way of contrast, stichometry determines line length by space, usually a specific number of syllables.12 As pointed out by Henry Barclay Swete over a century ago, a stichometric line might be measured in various ways, such as “the number of feet in the metre” or “it might depend upon a purely conventional standard.”13 Moreover, as J. Rendel Harris further demonstrated, there was a historical development in the manner stichometric lines were measured from space-lines to sense-lines—that is, from syllables to hexameter sentences, which roughly corresponded with a colon (a complete clause).14 Perhaps this historical development gave rise to the confusion between stichometry and colon-writing (colometry and stichography). In any case, scholars of ancient Christianity and Judaism should still maintain a terminological distinction between stichometry and colometry/stichography, as the former for the most part measures lines by space and the latter by sense (for more on sense division, see §2 below). 1.1 Corpus of Stichographic Texts The overwhelming majority of stichographic texts in the Dead Sea Scrolls come from authoritative Scripture. Including the scrolls discovered in the vicinity of Qumran (i.e., Naḥal Ḥever and Masada), scholars have identified thirty stichographic arrangements in manuscripts containing Exodus, Deuteronomy, Psalms, Job, Proverbs, Lamentations, and Ben Sira.15 But not all stichographic scrolls are biblical. According to Tov’s survey, the only exception is 4Q521.16 As I have demonstrated elsewhere, however, we should add 4Q525,

11  J. Rendel Harris, Stichometry (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1893), 31–33; Henry Barclay Swete, An Introduction to the Old Testament in Greek (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1902), 345. 12  Harris, Stichometry, 22–26, 31–33. 13  Swete, Old Testament in Greek, 344–45. Concerning conventional standards, the length of lines in Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey became the standard unit for ancient stichometry— that is, an epic hexameter (about 15 syllables or 35 Greek letters). This standard line was used until the Middle Ages when page numbers became a more common way to measure texts (Ohly, Stichometrische Untersuchungen, 4–30). 14  Harris, “Stichometry,” 150–54. 15  The thirty stichographic arrangements are 1QDeutb (1Q5), 1QPsa (1Q10), 2QSir (2Q18), 3QLam (3Q3), 5QLamb (5Q7), 4QDeutb (4Q29), 4QDeutc (4Q30), 4QDeutq (4Q44), 4QpaleoDeutr (4Q45), 4QPsb (4Q84), 4QPsc (4Q85), 4QPsd (4Q86), 4QPsg (4Q89), 4QPsh (4Q90), 4QPsl (4Q93), 4QPsw (4Q98f), 4QJoba (4Q99), 4QJobb (4Q100), 4QpaleoJobc (4Q101), 4QProva (4Q102), 4QProvb (4Q103), 4QPentateuchc [previously 4QRPc] (4Q365), 5QPs (5Q5), 8QPs (8Q2), 11QPsa (11Q5), 11QPsb (11Q6), 5/6ḤevPs, MasPsa, MasPsb, and MasSir. 16  Tov, Scribal Practices, 167.

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1Q38, and 4Q424 to the list of “nonbiblical” stichographic scrolls.17 If Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar’s reconstruction and identification is correct, we may also add 5Q16.18 Accordingly, there is a total of at least thirty-four (perhaps thirtyfive) stichographic arrangements of Hebrew poetry in the Dead Sea Scrolls.19 The table below lists every stichographically arranged biblical text in the Dead Sea Scrolls: table 3

Exodus

Biblical manuscripts displaying stichographic layout

Deut

4QPentateuchc 1QDeutb 4QDeutb 4QDeutc 4QDeutq 4QpaleoDeutr

Pss

Job

Prov

Lam

Sir

1QPsa 4QJoba 4QProva 3QLam 2QSir 4QPsb 4QJobb 4QProvb 5QLamb MasSir 4QPsc 4QpaleoJobc 4QPsd 4QPsg 4QPsh 4QPsl 4QPsw 5QPs 8QPs 11QPsa 11QPsb MasPsa MasPsb 5/6ḤevPs

I should stress four general features of the stichographic corpus. First, all stichographic texts are either (1) poetic songs from the Torah, Psalms, and other 17  Miller, “Multiformity of Stichographic Systems,” 237–42. 18  Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar proposed that 5Q16 might be a second copy of Beatitudes (4Q525); moreover, 5Q16 1–2 + 5 displays a stichographic layout of two cola per line separated by a vacat (“Lady Folly and Her House in Three Qumran Manuscripts: On the Relation between 4Q525 15, 5Q16, and 4Q184 1,” RevQ 91 [2008]: 371–81, esp. 371–73). If Tigchelaar’s reconstruction is correct, then 5Q16 preserves another stichographic section of Beatitudes. 19  Greek manuscripts in the Dead Sea Scrolls may yield more examples. A study of the spacing of 4QpapLXXLevb (4Q120), 4QLXXNum (4Q121), and 8ḤevXIIgr (8Ḥev 1), particularly in comparison with the spacing of our oldest papyrus fragments of the Septuagint (P. Oxy 50.3522, P. Rylands 458, and P. Fouad 266), remains a desideratum.

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hymnic compositions or (2) didactic poetry from sapiential texts. In Torah MSS, only poetic songs amidst prose are arranged stichographically—namely, Exodus 15 (Song of the Sea) and Deuteronomy 32 (Song of Moses). The book of Psalms occurs more often than other books, and Psalm 119 occurs more often than other psalms. In fact, every instance of Psalm 119 in the Dead Sea Scrolls is stichographic even when the rest of the psalms in the manuscript are written in continuous script.20 Second, not all the biblical scrolls are stichographic. For example, out of a total of thirty-five Psalms scrolls, only fifteen are stichographic.21 We therefore have numerous examples of the same composition written in continuous script in one copy and in stichographic layout in another copy. Third, many scrolls are only partially stichographic—that is, they contain some sections in continuous script and others in stichographic layout. In four Psalms scrolls, for example, some psalms are written in continuous script, but others exhibit a stichographic layout (1QPsa [1Q10], 4QPsd [4Q86], 11QPsa [11Q5], and 11QPsb [11Q6]).22 Fourth, specific passages are sometimes arranged in multiple manners. Stichographic renditions of Deuteronomy 32, for example, exhibit one colon per column line (4QDeutc [4Q30]), two cola per column line (4QDeutb [4Q29]; 4QpaleoDeutr [4Q45]), and four cola per column line (1QDeutb [1Q5]). 1.2 Systems of Stichography According to Tov’s survey, scribes used three main systems of stichography: (1) one or two hemistichs per column line, (2) two hemistichs or stichs per column line separated by a space, and (3) hemistichs or clusters of two to three words separated by spaces.23 But Tov’s taxonomy should be nuanced in several areas.24 For my current interests, I note two proposed emendations. First, Tov’s category of “hemistichs or clusters of 2–3 words separated by spaces” is better described as “running stichography.” Tov only places three compositions in this category: 4QPentateuchc (4Q365), MasPsb, and 4QProvb (4Q103). In 20  Six MSS contain a stichographic layout of Psalm 119: 1QPsa (1Q10), 4QPsg (4Q89), 4QPsh (4Q90), 5QPs (5Q5), 11QPsa (11Q5), and 11QPsb (11Q6). Of these six MSS, 1QPsa (1Q10), 11QPsa (11Q5), and 11QPsb (11Q6) are prose except for Psalm 119. 21  Tov, Scribal Practices, 168–69. 22  Tov, Scribal Practices, 168–69. “Partially stichographic” should not be confused with “partial stichometry.” Partial stichography, as I outline above, means that only part of the text is stichographically arranged. Partial stichometry, however, describes a series of marginal notes indicating the number of lines contained in the preceding section of a book (Harris, “Stichometry,” 147–48). Like modern page numbers, these marginal notes were helpful for citation. 23  Tov, Scribal Practices, 171–73; idem, “Background of the Stichometric Arrangements,” 415–17. 24  Miller, “Multiformity of Stichographic Systems,” 220–25, 242–45.

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addition, however, we should add Instruction-like Work (4Q424) and Beatitudes (4Q525) to this category of stichography.25 Running stichography occurs in texts otherwise written in scriptio continua (e.g., 4QPentateuchc [4Q365]) or in texts otherwise displaying a different type of stichography (e.g., 4QProvb [4Q103], 4QPsc [4Q85]).26 These compositions display a “running” stichography because poetic units can “run” across the margin from one column line to the next. When a poetic unit happens to begin or to conclude at a margin, a vacat is superfluous (e.g., 4Q365 6b 3, 5). Overall, margins do not always act as demarcation markers, and vacats delineate varying numbers of cola.27 Second, Tov’s three systems should be broadened to include a wider variety of stichography. Excluding scrolls discovered in the vicinity of Qumran such as Naḥal Ḥever or Masada (i.e., 5/6ḤevPs, MasPsa, MasPsb, and MasSir), the table below categorizes every type of stichographic arrangement in the Dead Sea Scrolls: table 4

1.

Stichographic systems in the Dead Sea Scrolls

One colon per col. line:

4QDeutc (4Q30), 4QDeutq (4Q44), 4QPsb (4Q84), 4QPsd (4Q86), 4QPsl (4Q93) 2a. Two cola per col. line: 1QPsa (1Q10), 4QDeutb (4Q29), 4QDeutq (4Q44), 4QpaleoDeutr (4Q45), 4QPsg (4Q89), 4QPsh (4Q90), 5QPs (5Q5), 11QPsa (11Q5), 4QJoba (4Q99), 4QJobb (4Q100), 4QpaleoJobc (4Q101), 2QSir (2Q18) 2b. Two cola per col. line with 1QPsa (1Q10), 4QPsb (4Q84), 4QPsc (4Q85), 8QPs vacats: (8Q2), 11QPsb (11Q6), 4QProva (4Q102), 4QProvb (4Q103), 5Q16 3. One to three cola per col. line: 4Q521 4. Four cola per col. line: 1QDeutb (1Q5), 4QPsw (4Q98f), 5QLamb (5Q7) 5. Running stichography: 4QPentateuchc (4Q365), 4QPsc (4Q85), 4QProvb (4Q103), 4Q525, 4Q424 6. Six cola per col. line: 3QLam (3Q3)

25  Miller, “Multiformity of Stichographic Systems,” 239–42. 26  For example, although 4QProvb (4Q103) and 4QPsc (4Q85) normally contain two cola per column line separated by a vacat, (1) 4QProvb (4Q103) 2–4 1–6 (Prov 14:5–13), (2) 4QProvb (4Q103) 7 ii +11–14 1–13 (Prov 15:19–31), and (3) 4QPsc (4Q85) III 15 iii +17 24–32 (Ps 52:5b– 11) exhibit a running stichography with vacats separating varying numbers of cola. 27  For other examples of stichography that demarcates varying numbers of cola, see 1QDeutb (1Q5) and 4QPsc (4Q85).

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As the table indicates, some scrolls include multiple “systems.” For example, 4Q85 and 4Q103 exhibit two cola per column line separated by vacats, but some sections exhibit a running stichography. 1Q10 exhibits two cola per column line sometimes with vacats and sometimes without vacats. 4Q84 exhibits one colon per column line, but some sections include two cola per column line separated by vacats. In addition, I should stress that my proposed taxonomy ignores minor exceptions to these general rules of arrangement. 4QpaleoDeutr (4Q45), for example, usually contains two cola per column line but a few lines contain one or three cola. In addition, sometimes vacats divide varying numbers of cola per column line (e.g., 1QDeutb [1Q5]). Overall, these types of inconsistencies indicate that stichographic arrangements were not firmly dictated by a prescribed system. 2

Literary Functions of Stichography

In order to make more specific observations about the literary functions of stichography, I return to the passage from the Song of the Sea (Exodus 15) discussed above, which is found both in stichographic arrangement (4QPentateuchc) and in scriptio continua (4QExodc). Unlike all other stichographic texts, vacats in 4QPentateuchc (4Q365) divide hemistiches rather than cola or lines. The reason for this unique demarcation relates to the special layout of the Song of the Sea in this scroll (see Chapter 4, §‎1.1). Moreover, as I stated above, 4QPentateuchc (4Q365) displays a “running” stichography because poetic units can “run” across the margin from one column line to the next. Below are a facsimile, transcription, and translation of this passage from the Song of the Sea (Exodus 15) found in both 4QPentateuchc (4Q365) and 4QExodc (4Q14):

Oral-Written Textuality

figure 1

Facsimile of 4QPentateuchc (4Q365) 6b 1–6 IAA Plate 800, frg. 2 (=PAM 43.373)

table 5

Transcription of 4QPentateuchc (4Q365) 6b 1–6

]‫ תביאמו ותטעמו‬vacat ‫ עם זו קניתה‬vacat ‫ עד יעבור‬vacat ‫ עמכה יהוה‬vacat ‫עד י֯ [עבור‬ ֯ ]‫ כוננו ידיכה‬vacat ‫ מקדש יהוה‬vacat ‫ פעלתה יהוה‬vacat ‫לשבת ֯כ[ה‬ ֯ ‫ מכון‬vacat ‫בהר נחלתכה‬ ]‫ וישב‬vacat ‫ ברכבו ובפרשיו בים‬vacat ‫ כי בא [סוס פרעוה‬vacat ‫יהוה ימלוך עולם ועד‬ ]‫ ביבשה בתוך הים‬vacat ‫ [ובני ישראל הלכו‬vacat ‫ את מימי הים‬vacat ‫[יה]ו֯ ה עליהמה‬ ]‫ותקח [מרים הנביאה אחות אהרון‬ ֯ vacat ‫והמי]ם ֯ל ֯ה[מה חומה מ]י֯ מינם ומשמאולם‬ ֯ [ [‫נשי֯ ֯ם ֯א ֯ח ֯רי֯ ֯ה ב[תופים ובמחולות ותען‬ ֯ ‫]את התוף בידה ו] ֯תצינה [כו]ל ֯ה‬

table 6

1 2

3 4 5 6

125

1 2 3 4 5 6

Translation of 4QPentateuchc (4Q365) 6b 1–6

Until t[hey pass over, vacat your people, O Lord; vacat until they pass over, vacat this people whom you have bought. vacat You will bring them and plant them] in the mountain of your inheritance. vacat A place for yo[ur] dwelling, [vacat you have made, O Lord. vacat A sanctuary of the Lord, vacat your hands have established.] The Lord will rule forever and ever. vacat For [Pharaoh’s horse] went [vacat with his chariot and riders into the sea. vacat And brought] [the Lo]rd on them, vacat the waters of the sea. vacat [For the sons of Israel walked vacat on dry ground amidst the sea.] [And the wat]er was [a wall] for t[hem, on] their right and on their left. vacat And [Miriam the prophetess, the sister of Aaron,] took [the tambourine in her hand;] and [al]l the women went out after her with [tambourines and with dancing. And she answered]

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figure 2

Facsimile of 4QExodc (4Q14) VI 33 ii 40–42 IAA Plate 1074, frg. 1 (=PAM 42.160)

table 7

Transcription of 4QExodc (4Q14) VI 33 ii 40–42

‫נחל ֯ת[ך מכון לשבתך‬ ֯ ‫ותטעם בהר‬ ֯ ‫עם [זו] ֯קנית ֯ת ֯ביאם‬ ֯ ]‫יעב[ר‬ ֯ ‫עמך יהוה עד‬ ֯ ‫ ֯כאבן עד יעבר‬40 ]‫פעלת‬ ‫וב ֯פ[רשיו בים‬ ֯ ‫לך ֯עולם ועד כי בא סוס ֯פ[רעה ב] ֯רכבו‬ ֯ ‫יהוה כוננו֯ ידך יהוה י֯ ֯מ‬ ֯ ‫ יהוה מקדש‬41 ]‫וישב יהוה‬ ‫ותק[ח] מרים [הנביאה אחות אהרן‬ ֯ ‫ישראל הלכו ֯ב ֯יב[ש] ֯ה בתוך הים‬ ֯ ‫את מי֯ הים ובני‬ ֯ ‫ עליהם‬42 ]‫את התוף‬

table 8

40

41

42

Translation of 4QExodc (4Q14) VI 33 ii 40–42

as a stone. Until they pass over, your people, O Lord; interval until they pas[s] over, [this] people whom you have bought. You will bring them and plant them in the mountain of [your] inheritance. [A place for your dwelling, you have made], O Lord. A sanctuary of the Lord, your hands have established. The Lord will rule forever and ever. interval For Ph[araoh’s] horse went [with] his chariot and [his] ri[ders into the sea. And the Lord brought] on them, the waters of the sea. interval For the sons of Israel walked on d[r]y ground amidst the sea. interval And Miriam [the prophetess, the sister of Aaron, too[k] the tambourine

The lacunas in 4QPentateuchc (4Q365) can be reconstructed based on physical limitations of the MS, placement of extant vacats, and overlaps with 4QExodc (4Q14). The extant portions of this fragment divide each colon; therefore, it is plausible to reconstruct vacats where physical space permits.28 Compared 28  The editors of the editio princeps have also done this in multiple places. See Harold W. Attridge et al., Qumran Cave 4.VIII: Parabiblical Texts, Part 1, DJD 13 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1994), 268–69.

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to the editio princeps, I have added ‫ יהוה‬in line 2, a vacat in line 2 after ‫פעלתה‬ ‫יהוה‬, and a vacat in line 4 after ‫ובני ישראל הלכו‬.29 My reconstruction of the end of line 5 and the beginning of line 6 also differs from the editio princeps.30 The entire contents of line 5 can be reconstructed with relative certainty, and line 5 can be used as a template to probe the validity of other line reconstructions.31 Overall, 4Q365’s stichography illustrates three characteristics of stichography exhibited in a number of other stichographic texts. First, vacats delineate varying numbers of cola32 and each column line contains varying numbers of poetic units (hemistiches).33 For example, lines 1–2 have five hemistiches, and lines 3–5 have four hemistiches. Second, the vacats rather than margins consistently demarcate cola.34 For example, the colon “and brought margin the 29  Cf. DJD 13:268. 4QExodc (4Q14) and the Septuagint support the reconstruction of ‫פעלתה‬ ‫ יהוה מקדש יהוה‬in line 2. Similar to 4Q14, the base text of the LXX likely contained the Tetragrammaton twice. The LXX reads ὃ κατειργάσω κύριε ἁγίασμα κύριε (Exod 15:17). As John William Wevers has demonstrated, Septuagint translators typically represented the Tetragrammaton with an anarthrous κύριος in the Pentateuch (“The Rendering of the Tetragram in the Psalter and Pentateuch: A Comparative Study” in The Old Greek Psalter: Studies in Honour of Albert Pietersma, ed. Robert J. V. Hiebert, Claude E. Cox, and Peter J. Gentry, JSOTSup 332 [Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 2001], 21–35). 30  On account of the protruding tail of the lamed, the beginning of line 5 is reconstructed as ]‫ ;[והמי]ם לה[מה‬the ending of line 5 proves more difficult to determine, however. Emanuel Tov and Sidnie White have reconstructed the ending as ‫ותקח [מרים הנביאה‬ ֯ ]‫אחות‬, but ]‫ותקח [מרים הנביאה אחות אהרון‬ ֯ is preferable as the beginning of line 6 only contains enough physical space for ]‫( [את התוף בידה ו‬DJD 13:268–69). If “Aaron” is added, then the beginning of line 6 becomes too long to coordinate with ‫[ו]תצינה‬ ֯ . There is not enough physical space between the left margin and the first extant word on line 6 (‫[ו]תצינה‬ ֯ ) to reconstruct ]‫[אהרון את התוף בידה ו‬. This is confirmed by the beginning of line 3. The end of ‫ עולם‬in line 3 is vertically aligned with the beginning of ‫[ו]תצינה‬ ֯ in line 6. Therefore, the physical space of ‫ יהוה ימלוך עולם‬should correspond with the reconstruction of the beginning of line 6. This roughly equals the same amount of space as [‫את‬ ‫]התוף בידה ו‬, whereas [‫ ]אהרון את התוף בידה ו‬is too long. 31  The total space in line 5 manifests that vacats should be reconstructed in lines 1–4 or else they would be disproportionately short. According to my calculations, line 5 contains a total of fifty letters, eight small spaces in between words, and one large vacat. The average length of a vacat in the MS is 3–4 letters long, and the average length of a space between words is one letter. Thus, the total physical space of line 5 is roughly equivalent to 62 letters: 50 letters + 8 spaces between words (1 letter long each) + 1 vacat (3–4 letters long). 32  For other examples of stichography with varying numbers of cola between vacats, see 1QDeutb (1Q5) and 4QPsc (4Q85). 33  For other examples of stichography with varying numbers of cola per column line, see 4QDeutq (4Q44), 4QpaleoDeutr (4Q45), 4QPsb (4Q84), 4QPsc (4Q85), MasPsb, and Instruction-like Work (4Q424). 34  For other examples, see 4QPsc (4Q85), 4QProvb (4Q103), Instruction-like Work (4Q424), and Beatitudes (4Q525). For further discussion with specific examples, see Miller, “Multiformity of Stichographic Systems,” 230–31, 239–42.

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Lord on them” (‫ )וישב יהוה עליהמה‬is broken up between lines 3 and 4 after “and (he) brought” (‫)וישב‬.35 Third, the lineation of the column does not correspond to lines of verse—that is, each column line does not begin with a new poetic line.36 For example, “[You will bring them and plant them], in the mountain of your inheritance” (‫ )[תביאמו ותטעמו] בהר נחלתכה‬is split between lines 1 and 2. Distinctive correspondences between 4Q14 and 4Q365 underscore another characteristic of stichographic texts: the correlation between spacing and parallelism. Although 4Q14 is written in running script, it nonetheless contains four small spaces called “minor intervals,” which correspond with vacats in 4Q365. I have represented their location with an underscore mark (_) in the transcription and “interval” in the translation. Only three vacats/intervals are extant in overlapping portions of both MSS: the first is in line 41 after ‫ועד‬, the second is in line 42 after ‫את מי֯ הים‬ ֯ , and the third in line 42 before ‫ותק[ח] מרים‬ ֯ . Similar to vacats, these minor intervals functioned to demarcate the text. Moreover, as the poetic analysis of this passage emphasizes (see below), both the vacats and intervals correlate with parallelism. This suggests that scribes constructed the minor intervals and vacats upon a common foundation: the spacing of both compositions corresponds with the division created by parallelism. 2.1 Graphically Represent Cola Tov has already noted the relationship between stichography and cola. In Tov’s words, stichography reflects “their scribes’ understanding of the poetical structure.”37 Nevertheless, Tov and others have questioned whether an intrinsic relationship exists between cola and stichography. In this section, I therefore refute two common objections to a direct correlation between cola and stichography. The first objection comes from misreading margins, whereas the 35  Although the syntax of my literal translation is awkward, it is designed to highlight the placement of the margin. In the translation of 4Q14 below, I render this phrase as “and the Lord brought on them.” 36  As I explain below, this is particularly prominent (1) in running stichography and (2) in stichography with two cola or four cola per column line. For examples of the former, see §1.2 above. For examples of the latter, see MasPsa, 4QDeutq (4Q44), 4QpaleoDeutr (4Q45), 4QPsc (4Q85), 4QProva (4Q102), 4QProvb (4Q103), 4QPsw (4Q98f), and 8QPs (8Q2). This occurs quite frequently in 4QPsc (4Q85), so much so that it seems to be the rule rather than the exception. For instance, see the division of Psalm 16:6b–11a in 4Q85 1 1–5. For specific examples in other scrolls, see the division of Proverbs 1:27b–32 in 4QProva (4Q102) 1–2 29–33 and Psalm 17:4b–7 in 8QPs (8Q2) 1–6 1–4. For a discussion of specific examples in 4QPsc (4Q85) and 4QProvb (4Q103), see Miller, “Multiformity of Stichographic Systems,” 230–31. 37  Tov, “Background of the Stichometric Arrangements,” 409.

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second from misunderstanding lines. Throughout all the various stichographic arrangements found in the Dead Sea Scrolls, stichography consistently represents poetic structure. In the first type of objection, questions arise from an improper understanding of how margins function in stichographic texts. According to this view, margins always function as vacats in stichographic texts—that is, margins always demarcate cola in the same manner as spacing within the column lines. As I have already shown in my analysis of 4QPentateuchc (4Q365), however, this view is erroneous. In fact, we may discern three methods employed by scribes to delimit cola in stichographic texts. First, in “running” stichography, scribes use vacats but not margins.38 Second, scribes frequently utilize margins but not vacats in stichography that arranges one colon or bicolon line per column line.39 Third, scribes sometimes bring both vacats and margins into service.40 Overall, even in stichographic arrangements where the margin typically demarcates cola, the placement of the vacats can supersede the margin as a demarcation marker. From time to time, this is a practical necessity as some poetic lines are simply too long to fit on a single column line. In order to expound this misunderstanding, I turn to the work of Kugel and Patrick W. Skehan. In Kugel’s innovative study of parallelism, he argues that the stichography in some places “simply apposes random chunks of words.”41 “Whatever its original purpose,” Kugel asserts, “by the time of the Dead Sea Covenanters this spacing had acquired a ‘distinctive’ or decorative function quite apart from indicating parallelistic breaks.”42 To support this view, Kugel refers to Skehan’s opinion in the editio princeps of 4QPsc (4Q85). In some cases, as Skehan correctly points out, the scribe of this scroll distributed one colon between two column lines.43 Skehan therefore concludes that 4QPsc (4Q85) “occasionally” shows a stichographic arrangement “with two hemistiches to

38  E.g., 4QPentateuchc (4Q365), 4QPsc (4Q85), 4QProvb (4Q103), Instruction-like Work (4Q424), Beatitudes (4Q525). 39  E.g., 4QDeutb (4Q29), 4QDeutc (4Q30), 4QDeutq (4Q44), 4QpaleoDeutr (4Q45), 4QPsb (4Q84), 4QPsd (4Q86), 4QPsg (4Q89), 4QPsh (4Q90), 4QPsl (4Q93), 5QPs (5Q5), 11QPsa (11Q5), Messianic Apocalypse (4Q521). 40  E.g., 1QDeutb (1Q5), 1QPsa (1Q10), 8QPs (8Q2), 11QPsb (11Q6). 41  Kugel, Idea of Biblical Poetry, 120. 42  Kugel, Idea of Biblical Poetry, 121. 43  Eugene Ulrich et al., Qumran Cave 4.XI: Psalms to Chronicles, DJD 16 (Oxford: Clarendon, 2000), 50.

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the line”; however, in other areas the stichography is “a mechanical one which no longer fits the parallelism.”44 As evidence for this contention, Skehan offers the division of Psalm 49:9b– 11a in 4QPsc (4Q85). According to Skehan, this passage exemplifies how stichography, in some cases, frustrates parallelism: table 9 4QPsc (4Q85) I 13–15 i 22–23

‫ויחי עוד לנצח ולא‬ ‫כי יראה חכמים ימתו‬

vacat vacat

‫ויקר פדיון נפשם] וחדל לעולם‬ [‫]יראה השחת‬

22 23

In this example, line 22 translates as “for the ransom of life is costly, and can never suffice, vacat that one should live forever and never margin.”45 The beginning of line 23 completes the colon with “see the grave vacat.” According to Skehan, the left margin of therefore splits the colon: “and never sees the grave.” But Skehan’s objection is only valid if margins delimit cola in this scroll.46 The colon in question is not broken by a vacat; rather, the left margin supposedly “breaks” the colon. As this example in 4QPsc (4Q85) illustrates, vacats can supersede the margin as a demarcation marker in stichographic texts. Physical space sometimes required the scribe to extend part of a colon to the next column line, but this does not mean that the scribe is apposing, in Kugel’s characterization, “random chunks of words.”47 In the second type of objection, scholars question stichography’s connection with poetic structure because of a misunderstanding of how lines function in stichographic texts. In stichographic poetry, we may think of two different lines. On the one hand, we have poetic lines (cola, bicola, tricola, etc.); on the other hand, we have column lines (i.e., the ruling of the column). According to this misunderstanding, stichography thwarts parallelism when a poetic line is 44  Patrick W. Skehan, “The Qumran Manuscripts and Textual Criticism,” in Volume du congres, Strasbourg 1956, VTSup 4 (Leiden: Brill, 1957), 148–58, esp. 155. 45  This is the NRSV translation. 46  For other examples where the margin supposedly “splits” a colon, see the division of Psalm 28:2 in 4QPsc (4Q85) 6–7 6–8, Psalm 16:7 in 4QPsc (4Q85) 1 1–2, Psalm 49:10 in 4QPsc (4Q85) I 13–15 i 22–23, Psalm 49:15 in 4QPsc (4Q85) I 13–15 i 28–29, and Psalm 49:16 in 4QPsc (4Q85) I 13–15 i 30–31. 47  Kugel, Idea of Biblical Poetry, 120. For examples where physical space required a scribe to extend part of a colon to the next column line, see 4QPsc (4Q85) I 13–15 i 28–31; 4QPsc (4Q85) III 15 iii +17 24–27. Cf. also DJD 16:50. This occurs in other stichographic texts, such as 4QPsb (4Q84) and 11QPsa (11Q5).

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split between two column lines. Yigael Yadin’s comment on the “loss of parallelism” in MasPsa is representative of these sorts of objections: The scribe of MasPsa preserves the two half-columns structure throughout, altogether disregarding the resulting loss of content parallelism of hemistiches in a line. In a verse with three stichs, such as in Ps 82:5, one line contains the first two stichs, ending where the MT marks an ʾetnaḥ, while the third stich, which in MT ends on a paseq, is written in the next line, together with the first stich of the following verse, which in MT again ends on an ʾetnaḥ.48 Essentially, Yadin posits that the third colon of a tricolon line cannot be paired with the first colon of the subsequent bicolon line without impairing the sense of the passage.49 An overview of how lines function in stichographic texts, however, does not warrant Yadin’s conclusion. Simply put, stichographic texts are inconsistent: in some stichographic scrolls, column lines correspond with lines of verse,50 but in others, such as MasPsa, they do not correspond with lines of verse (see below). Two explanations emerge for the latter case. In some instances, the incongruence between poetic lines and column lines is due to the type of stichographic layout. For example, a running text that does not treat margins as vacats exhibits varying cola per column line (see above). More often than not, however, the reason was practical: it takes more precious parchment to arrange a scroll in this manner as the scribe would be occasionally required to skip half a column line. This is particularly prominent in scrolls displaying two cola or four cola per column line. In these types of arrangements, the cola in a column line do not always form bicolon lines of verse.51 Only in two Psalms MSS divided in this manner do column lines consistently represent lines 48  Shemaryahu Talmon, Carol A. Newsom, and Yigael Yadin, “Hebrew Fragments from Masada,” in Masada VI: Yigael Yadin Excavations 1963–1965 Final Reports, ed. Alan Paris et al. (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1999), 1–149, esp. 84. 49  This scroll exhibits a bi-columnar arrangement, i.e., two cola per line separated by somewhat uniform spacing. Ironically, Yadin notes elsewhere when discussing the Aleppo Codex that “a poetic unit may stretch over the second half of one line and the first of the next, without impairing the sense cohesion of the verse” (Masada VI, 84). Apparently, he does not allow the scribe of MasPsa this same freedom. 50  In these cases, the scribe arranged two cola (one bicolon line) or four cola (two bicolon lines) per column line. E.g., 1QDeutb (1Q5), 1QPsa (1Q10), 2QSir (2Q18), 4QDeutb (4Q29), 4QPsb (4Q84), 4QPsg (4Q89), 4QPsh (4Q90), 5QPs (5Q5), 11QPsa (11Q5), 11QPsb (11Q6). 51  See n.36 above.

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of verse. And both of these MSS contain Psalm 119 (1QPsa [1Q10] and 11QPsb [11Q6]), where the acrostic layout firmly dictates the beginning of each line.52 2.2 Graphically Represent Parallelism According to Tov, stichography was developed for the ‫( דברי אמ״ת‬poetic books) and some songs in the Torah) because these books were written in a system of “strict” parallelism.53 Nonetheless, as far as I am aware, no study has explicitly demonstrated the intrinsic link between parallelism and stichography.54 In this section, I therefore present a poetic analysis of the Song of the Sea (Exodus 15) in 4QPentateuchc (4Q365) to clarify how stichography demarcates a text according to a scribal understanding of parallelism. When the text is arranged according to the vacats in 4QPentateuchc (4Q365), various aspects of parallelism emerge in each strophe. Overall, as my poetic analysis below illustrates, the demarcation of cola in stichographic texts is always consonant with parallelism. Before I set forth my analysis of parallelism in 4QPentateuchc (4Q365), however, I should briefly define what I intend to convey by “parallelism.” Most scholars trace the definition of parallelism to Robert Lowth, a pioneer in the modern study of Hebrew poetry.55 Parallelism, according to Lowth, is essentially a statement followed by restatement. Lowth identifies three different “species” of parallelism: synonymous, antithetical, and synthetic parallelism.56 As 52  For another example, see 3QLam (3Q3), which contains fragments of stichographic arrangements of the acrostic poems in Lamentations chapters 1 and 3. The stichographic arrangement in 3QLam (3Q3) probably exhibits one strophe per column line, consisting of three bicolon lines (six cola). 53  Tov, Scribal Practices, 166; idem, “Background of the Stichometric Arrangements,” 409. ‫ דברי אמ״ת‬is an acronym formed from the first letter of the three major poetic books: ‫( איוב = א‬Job), ‫( משלי = מ‬Proverbs), and ‫( תהלים = ת‬Psalms). 54  The only exception I am aware of is my dissertation. See Shem Miller, “Innovation and Convention: An Analysis of Parallelism in Stichographic, Hymnic and Sapiential Poetry in the Dead Sea Scrolls” (Ph.D. diss., Florida State University, 2012), 86–179. 55  Adele Berlin, The Dynamics of Biblical Parallelism, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008), 1–3; Luis Alonso Schökel, A Manual of Hebrew Poetics, trans. Adrian Graffy, SubBi 11 (Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1988), 8–10; Robert Alter, The Art of Biblical Poetry (New York: Basic Books, 1985), 3; Kugel, Idea of Biblical Poetry, 12; George Buchanan Gray, The Forms of Hebrew Poetry: Considered with Special Reference to the Criticism and Interpretation of the Old Testament (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1915), 4–7. 56  Robert Lowth, Lectures on the Sacred Poetry of the Hebrews, trans. G. Gregory, 3rd ed. (London: Thomas Tegg, 1835), 205–11; idem, Isaiah: A New Translation; with a Preliminary Dissertation, and Notes Critical, Philological, and Explanatory (Boston: Joseph T. Buckingham, 1815), xxii. Synonymous parallelism, according to Lowth, occurs when “the same sentiment is repeated in different, but equivalent terms” (Lectures, 205; cf. also Isaiah, xi–xii). Antithetical parallelism occurs when “a thing is illustrated by its contrary being opposed to it” (Lectures, 210). His third category, synthetic or constructive

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it turns out, according to subsequent scholarship, Lowth’s three categories are deficient; worse yet, they misconstrue parallelism.57 More importantly, studies gradually emerged that (1) more accurately defined parallelism from a linguistic perspective and (2) identified parallelism’s role in determining structure.58 Parallelism functions to gather together certain words into cola and associate cola as lines.59 Moreover, instead of saying the same twice (synonymous parallelism) or conveying antithetical propositions (antithetical parallelism), parallelism is “a matter of intertwining a number of linguistic equivalencies and contrasts.”60 With this definition of parallelism in mind, I turn to a poetic analysis of 4QPentateuchc (4Q365). table 10

Song of the Sea, strophe 14 (4Q365 6b 1//Exod 15:16)

1. Until t[hey pass over vacat], [Your people, O Lord vacat]; 2. [Until they pass over vacat], [this people which you have bought vacat].

]‫עד י֯ [עבור‬ ֯ ]‫[עמכה יהוה‬ ]‫[עד יעבור‬ ]‫[עם זו קניתה‬

1 1 1 1

Based on the work of David Noel Freedman, James Muilenburg, and Jan Fokkelman, 4QPentateuchc (4Q365) 6b begins at strophe 14 of the poem as a whole.61 Strophe 14 highlights how various parallelisms are intertwined in parallelism, transpires when “the sentences answer to each other, not by the iteration of the same image or sentiment, or the opposition of their contraries, but merely by the form of construction” (Lectures, 211). 57  Michael O’Connor, Hebrew Verse Structure (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1980), 29–36, 50–52; Stephen A. Geller, Parallelism in Early Biblical Poetry, HSM 20 (Missoula: Scholars Press, 1979), 375–85; Berlin, Dynamics of Biblical Parallelism, 1–30, esp. 1–7; Kugel, Idea of Biblical Poetry, 1–58, esp. 12–23. 58  Berlin, Dynamics of Biblical Parallelism, 1–30; Geller, Parallelism in Early Biblical Poetry, 6–29; O’Connor, Hebrew Verse Structure, 54–132. 59  Jan Fokkelman, Reading Biblical Poetry: An Introductory Guide, trans. I. Smit (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2001), 73–86; Marjo C. A. Korpel and Johannes C. de Moor, “Fundamentals of Ugaritic and Hebrew Poetry,” in The Structural Analysis of Biblical and Canaanite Poetry, ed. Willem van der Meer and Johannes C. de Moor, JSOTSup 74 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1988), 1–61; Pierre Auffret, La sagesse a bâti sa maison: Études de structures littéraires dans l’Ancien Testament et spécialement dans les Psaumes, OBO 49 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1982), 339–480. 60  Berlin, Dynamics of Biblical Parallelism, 130. Linguistic equivalency does not denote “identical in every aspect”; rather, it designates similarities between details in grammar, syntax, or semantics. 61  Three refrains (at vv. 6, 11 and 16b) divide the poem into three stanzas, and strophe 14 stands at the beginning of the last stanza. Concerning the overall division of the poem, see James Muilenburg, “A Liturgy on the Triumphs of Yahweh,” in Studia biblica et semitica:

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one verse. The semantic, syntactical, and morphological equivalencies exhibit an alternating pattern. The noun “people” (‫ )עם‬is paired together in both cola (1b and 2b) forming a lexical parallelism between “your people” (‫ )עמכה‬and “this people” (‫)עם זו‬.62 Together with the identical syntactical structure of both bicolon lines, these parallelisms create an abab patterning between the cola.63 These parallelisms also increase the perceptibility of this strophe’s distinct symmetry, in which each line has the same number of syllables (eight) and grammatical units.64 Overall, these linguistic equivalencies isolate four separate cola and gather them together into a strophe containing two bicolon lines. table 11

Song of the Sea, strophe 15 (4Q365 6b 1–2//Exod 15:17)

1. [You will bring them and plant them margin], in the mountain of your inheritance vacat. 2. A place for yo[ur] dwelling [vacat], [that you have made Lord vacat]. 3. [A sanctuary of the Lord vacat], [your hands have established margin].

]‫[תביאמו ותטעמו‬ ‫בהר נחלתכה‬ ]‫לשבת ֯כ[ה‬ ֯ ‫מכון‬ ]‫[פעלתה יהוה‬ ]‫[מקדש יהוה‬ ]‫[כוננו ידיכה‬

1 2 2 2 2 2

Exodus 15:17 offers a vivid illustration of how parallelism in Hebrew poetry often takes place within lines and between lines. Morphological parallelism occurs within the first colon of line 1 between the first two verbs: “bring them” and “plant them” (‫ תביאמו‬and ‫)ותטעמו‬. The alliterative repetition of the same ending (‫ )מו‬on these two verbs also activates phonological parallelism. The

Theodoro Christiano Vriezen qui munere professoris theologiae per XXV annos functus est, ab amicis, collegis, discipulis dedicate, ed. Th. C. Vriezen (Wageningen: Veenman, 1966), 233– 51; David Noel Freedman, Pottery, Poetry, and Prophecy (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1980), 179–88; Jan Fokkelman, Major Poems of the Hebrew Bible At the Interface of Hermeneutics and Structural Analysis, Volume I: Ex. 15, Deut. 32, and Job 3, SSN 37 (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1998), 24–27. 62  This lexical pair is also a morphological pair of words from different word classes. The possessive suffix “your people” is paired with the relative clause “this people which you have bought.” As Adele Berlin has shown, lexical pairs do not need to be morphologically identical for them to be parallel with one another “for it is the whole clause, not just the pronoun, which is equivalent to the noun in the parallel line” (Dynamics of Biblical Parallelism, 144). 63  Both lines contain a preposition and intransitive verb in the first colon, as well as a subject clause in the second colon. 64  Geller, Parallelism in Early Biblical Poetry, 89.

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majority of parallelisms, however, occur between lines within the strophe.65 In lines 1–2, for instance, “mountain of your inheritance” (‫ )בהר נחלתכה‬is semantically parallel to the “Lord’s dwelling” (‫)מקדש יהוה‬, and “your inheritance” (‫ )נחלתכה‬is morphologically parallel to “your dwelling” (‫)לשבתכה‬.66 Lines 2–3 also contain syntactic and semantic parallelisms: each line begins with the direct object clause in the first colon followed by transitive verb (and subject) in the second colon. Additionally, parallelisms form an abab semantic patterning between the cola of lines 2–3, as “a place for your dwelling” parallels “a sanctuary of the Lord,” and “you have made” parallels “you have established.” table 12

Song of the Sea, strophe 16 (4Q365 6b 3//Exod 15:18)

1. The Lord will rule forever and ever vacat.

‫יהוה ימלוך עולם ועד‬

3

The poem concludes with a formulaic closure and the Song of Miriam (Exod 15:19–21), which parallels the introduction to the Song of the Sea (Exod 15:1–3). In the overall structure of the Song of the Sea, this monocolon line in v. 18 connects back to the beginning of the poem in v. 3.67 table 13

Song of the Sea, strophe 17 (4Q365 6b 3–5//Exod 15:19)

1. For [Pharaoh’s horse] went [vacat], ]‫כי בא [סוס פרעוה‬ [with his chariot and riders amidst the sea vacat]. ]‫[ברכבו ובפרשיו בים‬ 2. [And the Lo]rd [brought] margin on them vacat, ‫[וישב יה]ו֯ ה עליהמה‬ the waters of the sea vacat. ‫את מימי הים‬ 3. [For the sons of Israel walked vacat], ]‫[ובני ישראל הלכו‬ [on dry ground amidst the sea margin]. ]‫[ביבשה בתוך הים‬ 4. [And the wat]er was [a wall] for t[hem], ]‫[והמי]ם ֯ל ֯ה[מה חומה‬ ֯ [on] their right and on their left vacat. ‫[מ]י֯ מינם ומשמאולם‬

3 3 3–4 4 4 4 5 5

65  Parallelisms occur across strophic boundaries as well. For example, “bringing them over” (‫ )תביאמו‬is parallel to “crossing” (‫ )יעבור‬in the previous strophe. 66  Additionally, morphological parallelism between words of a different word class occurs. The juxtaposition of “dwelling” (‫ )מכון‬and “established” (‫ )כוננו‬places a noun in parallel construction with a verb with the same root (‫)כו"נ‬. 67  Freedman, Pottery, Poetry, and Prophecy, 182, 193. The poem ends with “the Lord will rule forever and ever” and begins with “the Lord is a warrior, Yahweh is his name.” Also, as Martin L. Brenner notes, the end of the poem in v. 18 is marked by a return to the thirdperson and the use of a formula “forever and ever” denoting the end of the section (The Song of the Sea: Ex 15:1–21 [Berlin: de Gruyter, 1991], 26–28).

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Although Exodus 15:18 is typically understood by modern scholars as the conclusion of the Song of the Sea, the stichography of 4Q365 continues into v. 19, indicating that the poem continued for at least one ancient Jewish scribe.68 There are several poetic features of v. 19 that support its inclusion with the rest of the poem. For example, horse and rider are both mentioned in vv. 19 and 1.69 Most importantly, v. 19 consists of three nearly equally sized parallel clauses ending with “sea.” One interesting aspect of this strophe is the presence of one line, which is absent in the MT (4Q365 6b 5; Exod 15:19b). Exodus 15:19b in the MT does not include 4Q365 6b 5 (strophe 17, line 4) “And the water was a wall for them on their right and on their left.” According to Molly M. Zahn, this addition is most likely a harmonization of Exodus 14:29 and Exodus 15:19b.70 Whatever may have happened, this additional line in 4Q365 works well with the various parallelisms of this strophe. Lines 2 and 4 are connected through subjectobject syntactical parallelism: “And the Lord brought on them the waters of the sea (object) // and the water (subject) was a wall for them on their right and on their left.”71 The repetition of mem and yod in ‫מימי‬, ‫המים‬, and ‫ מימינם‬in lines 2, 3, and 4, respectively, also connects line 4 to the rest of the strophe. This strophe offers a classic example of the definition of parallelism promoted by Kugel: A, and what’s more, B.72 In Adele Berlin’s equally insightful formulation, the relation between lines in this strophe is syntagmatic (i.e., the two lines contain a semantic continuation or progression of thought).73 Thus, “Pharaoh’s chariot and his riders” in colon 1b (4Q365 6b 3) disambiguates by clarifying, or expanding, “Pharaoh’s horse” in line 1a (4Q365 6b 3). Similarly, in line 2b (4Q365 6b 4), the “waters of the sea” is an explanation of line 2a 68  The formulaic phrase “forever and ever” in v. 18 does not necessarily denote an ending of the poem. In some Psalms it demarcates strophes within the poem (cf. Ps 10:16, 45:7, 52:10, 104:5, 119:44) or functions as an inclusio (cf. Ps 145:1, 21). For discussion of the poem’s ending, see Thomas B. Dozeman, Commentary on Exodus, ECC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 327, 342; John I. Durham, Exodus, WBC 3 (Waco: Word Books, 1987), 204–5; Frank Moore Cross and David Noel Freedman, Studies in Ancient Yahwistic Poetry, SBLDS 21 (Missoula: Scholars Press, 1975), 45–65. 69  Umberto Cassuto, A Commentary on the Book of Exodus (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1987), 181–82. 70  Zahn, Rethinking Rewritten Scripture, 111. 71  Semantically equivalent terms can serve different syntactical functions (Berlin, Dynamics of Biblical Parallelism, 57). This type of syntactical parallelism is also a form of morphological parallelism related to a shift in case (i.e., nominative and accusative in ‫את מימי‬ ‫ הים‬and ‫)והמים‬. 72  Kugel, Idea of Biblical Poetry, 13–14. 73  Berlin, Dynamics of Biblical Parallelism, 90.

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(4Q365 6b 3–4), which describes God as “bringing.” One can see this same parallelism in lines 3 and 4, too, where the second colon of each bicolon line is an expansion of the first: the sons of Israel did not just walk, but they walked on the dry ground amidst the sea (line 3; 4Q365 6b 4); the water was not just around them, but it formed a wall around them on both sides (line 4; 4Q365 6b 5). 2.3 Graphically Represent Interpretation Because the demarcation of literary units is a form of exegesis, stichography reveals scribal interpretation. Similar to the purpose of the disjunctive and conjunctive accents in the Tiberian Masoretic tradition, vacats in stichographic texts reflect how scribes interpreted texts. As an example of scribal interpretation, I turn to a passage from a Psalms scroll discovered at Masada. Following Yadin, Tov argues that the stichography of MasPsa 2:22–24 (Ps 83:9–11) “goes against the meaning of the stichs themselves.”74 As I will demonstrate, however, the stichographic arrangement merely defies the Masoretic interpretation of the passage. According to Yadin, MasPsa contains vacats that sometime defy the “meaning” of psalms because of their incongruence with conjunctive and disjunctive accents in the Masoretic tradition. Commenting on MasPsa 2:22–23 (Ps 83:9–10), Yadin states, In the MT the end of v.9 is indicated by a paseq under the closing formula selah. The end of the next half-verse (10a) is signaled by marking the last word, ‫כמדין‬, with an ʾetnaḥ, and the following hemistich (10b) opens with the evident logical combination ‫כסיסרא כיבין‬. In contrast, the scribe of MasPsa closed the preceding line with ‫כסיסרא‬, illogically linking the name of the commander of the Canaanite king’s [sic] Yabin forces (Jdgs 4–5) with the totally distinct Midian episode (Jdgs 6–7).75 As explained by Yadin, the Masoretic scribes placed a conjunctive accent between “Sisera and Jabin” and a disjunctive accent after “Midian.” Therefore, according to Yadin, “like Sisera” (‫ )כסיסרא‬should be connected with the following colon stating “like Sisera [and] Jabin at Wadi Kishon” (‫)כסיסרא כיבין בנחל קישון‬.

74  Yadin, Masada VI, 84; Tov, Scribal Practices, 172. 75  Yadin, Masada VI, 85.

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table 14 MasPsa 2:22–23 (Ps 83:9–11)

‫עשה להם כמדין כסיסרא‬ ‫נשמדו בעין דאר‬

vacat vacat

‫היו זרוע לבני לוט סלה‬ ‫כיבין בנחל קישון‬

22 23

Instead, the stichography of MasPsa connects “like Sisera” with the Midianites: “Do to them as you did to Midian like Sisera” (‫)עשה להם כמדין כסיסרא‬. Thus, according to Yadin’s assessment, stichography defies the proper meaning of the passage because it erroneously links Sisera, the commander of king Jabin’s army, with the Midianites. In actuality, however, MasPsa contradicts the “meaning” as defined by the accents of the Masoretic scribes. And Masoretic accents determine neither “correct” meaning nor “proper” parallelism—that is, the accuracy of sense of divisions in the Scrolls should not be judged by their correlation with Masoretic accents. As Kugel has shown, the Masoretic accents in the ‫דברי‬ ‫( אמ״ת‬Job, Proverbs, and Psalms) divide the text in places that well defy the parallelism and “sense.”76 Most importantly, the scribe of MasPsa may simply have understood the sense differently than Yadin or, for that matter, the later Masoretic scribes. In short, the scribe probably had a different interpretation of the passage.77 In any case, the point I wish to illustrate with this example is that stichography affects interpretation because it divides the text into specific units of meaning. All spacing techniques (including stichography) require and reflect interpretation. Consider, for example, the divergent stichographic divisions of Psalm 18:11 (18:12 in MT) in 8QPs (8Q2) and 4QPsc (4Q85). On the one hand, 8QPs (8Q2) divides Psalm 18:11 as a tricolon line: “He made darkness his hiding place, vacat around him [he set] his canopy, vacat thick clouds dark with water.” This is how most English translations capture the meaning of this verse. The last colon—thick clouds dark with water—describes both God’s hiding place and canopy. 4QPsc (4Q85), on the other hand, divides Psalm 18:11 into a bicolon line, thereby activating a slightly different meaning: “He made darkness his 76  Kugel, Idea of Biblical Poetry, 109–116. 77  Of course, I have no idea what the scribe was thinking. Perchance the scribe thought the “Midian episode” was not “totally distinct” as Yadin claims. Similar to Sisera—whose head was pegged to the ground—Midian’s military leaders were brutally killed and decapitated. Interestingly, the next line in this Psalm (83:11) mentions Oreb and Zeeb, the slain military leaders of the Midianites. Perhaps the scribe did not wish to connect Sisera to Jabin because he did not think Sisera was killed on the battlefields of En-Dor (Ps 83:11; but cf. Jud 4:17).

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hiding place, around him [he set] his canopy, vacat darkness of waters, thick clouds.” In this couplet, “dark waters” parallels “hiding place,” and the “thick clouds” describe “his canopy.” The different English translations highlight the slightly different interpretations at stake in these divisions.78 As a final example illustrating the correlation between spacing and interpretation, I turn to the different divisions of Psalm 102:23–24 in 4QPsb (4Q84) and the Masoretic Text (hereafter 𝔐). According to the editors of the editio princeps of 4QPsb, “[t]he five cola in these two verses are arranged differently than in the received text, yielding four lines (24a/24b+25a/25b/25c) in 4QPsb and two lines (24ab/25abc) in 𝔐.”79 Because the spatialization of 4QPsb and the accents of 𝔐 demarcate four cola, this assessment is only partially correct. The contrasting demarcations reflect different interpretations, not varying line amounts. According to the stichography in 4QPsb (4Q84), Psalm 102:23–24 (= Psalm 102:24–25 in the Hebrew text) reads:79 table 15

Psalm 102:23–24 in 4QPsb (4Q84) XXI 13–16

1. He answered in the way of his strength vacat He told me the fewness of my days vacat 2. Do not take me away in the midst of my days, vacat your years endure throughout all generations! vacat

a‫ענה בד[רך] כחו‬

‫קצר ימי אמר אלי‬ ]‫אל תעלני בחצי ימ[י‬ ‫בדור דרים שנתיך‬

13 14 15 16

a According to Ulrich’s transcription (DJD 16:38), ‫“( כחו‬his strength”) should be transliterated as ‫“( כחי‬my strength”). An examination of the facsimile, however, undermines the certainty of this transcription. At the least, on account of the yod’s long tail, it cannot be distinguished from a waw; at the most, it should be transcripted as a waw. Moreover, “his strength” is attested by the base text of the Septuagint, which translates: “he answered him in the way of his strength” (ἀπεκρίθη αὐτῷ ἐν ὁδῷ ἰσχύος αὐτοῦ). This ambiguity is also witnessed by masorah in 𝔐, which contains “my strength” (‫ )כחי‬for qere and “his strength” (‫ )כחו‬for ketiv. Overall, the demarcation of 4QPsb (4Q84) reflects an interpretation of this passage very similar to the Septuagint (LXX Ps 101:24–25=𝔐 Psalm 102:24–25), which translates: “he answered him in the way of his strength, tell me the fewness of my days (v. 24), take me not away in the midst of my days, your years are through all generations (v. 25).”

78  For another example, see 11QPsa (11Q5) VIII 8. This column line contains the last half of Psalm 119:44 and the first half of Psalm 119:45, whereas the next column line (viii 9) contains the second half of Psalm 119:45. In contrast to the later Masoretic division of these lines, it is quite possible that the scribe thought the second half of 119:45 was a monocolon line and 119:44–45 belonged together in a bicolon line. 79  D JD 16:39.

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The division of this passage in 𝔐, however, reveals an entirely different interpretation. According to the Masoretic scribes, the phrase “he told me” (‫ ) ָא ַמר ֵא ַלי‬was instead read as “I say, ‘my God’” (‫ ;)א ַֹמר ֵא ִלי‬moreover, the Masoretic accents connect this phrase with the following line: “do not take me away in the midst of my days.” This different demarcation activates new meanings and parallelisms within this passage: table 16

Psalm 102:23–24 in 𝔐

1. He has broken my strength in midcourse He has shortened my days 2. “O my God,” I say, “do not take me away at the midpoint of my life,” “you whose years endure throughout all generations.”

Because the Masoretic accents place ‫ אמר אלי‬with the following line, the parallelism in 4QPsb (4Q84) between “tell” (‫ )אמר‬and “answer” (‫ )ענה‬withers, and new parallelisms between ‫ קצר‬and ‫ ענה‬bloom—namely, the Masoretes interpret both as piel verbs. Instead of ‫ ָענָ ה‬, “he answered,” the Masoretes read ‫ ִענָ ה‬, “he humbles or breaks.” And in the place of ‫ ָק ֵצר‬, “short,” they read ‫ ִק ֵצר‬, “he cuts short.” Last, “his strength” (‫ ;כחו‬qetiv) is read as “my strength” (‫ ;כחי‬qere), as God surely would not suppress his own strength. Overall, the divergent demarcations of this passage in 4QPsb and 𝔐 illustrate how stichography is a form of exegesis, a type of scribal interpretation. 3

Oral Functions of Stichography

I have thus far argued that stichography is a writing practice that graphically represents a scribal understanding of poetic structure. In this section, however, I would like to shift our focus from writing to speaking. Viewed in their sociolinguistic context, the Dead Sea Scrolls were dynamic discourses that represented spoken words (speech) heard in shifting contexts of oral performance (reading). And if we want to make suggestions about the social setting, we should consider scribal practices within this oral world. With this oral setting in mind, I argue below that stichography and other spacing techniques graphically display a scribal understanding of the manner in which compositions were read. And by “reading,” I intend to convey oral performance, as reading in antiquity was usually a public act of reading out loud a text before an audience. My overarching point is that certain scribal practices, such as stichography and other

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spacing techniques, represent the oral register of language. By way of analogy, we could think of the oral/written registers of language as “ketiv/qere” of the Masoretic textual tradition. In some cases what is written (“ketiv”) is entirely different from what is read (“qere”)—namely, the oral register of language. In the most extreme cases, as pointed out by Israel Yeivin, some words are read even “when they are not represented in the consonantal text in any way.”80 Overall, “ketiv/qere” illustrate how some scribal practices faithfully preserved the oral register of language, at least for the later Masoretic scribes. In a similar vein, some spacing techniques in the Dead Sea Scrolls function to present how texts were read. Unfortunately, however, the oral register of spacing techniques has been given short shrift. Instead, scholars typically trace the origin of spacing techniques and sense division to scribal writing practices. According to Tov, for example, spacing techniques are primarily based on the scribe’s ad hoc understanding of the sense units in his Vorlagen: As a rule, scribes copied the divisions between sense units from their Vorlagen, but they often deviated from them, and it is hard to determine under which conditions they did so…. Scribes must have felt free to change the sense divisions of their Vorlage and to add new ones in accord with their understanding of the context…. They must have made their decisions ad hoc, guided mainly by their general understanding of the content.81 Concerning stichography, Tov has suggested several possible social settings including liturgical use, aesthetic adornment, or the personal preference of scribes.82 His most recent contribution links stichography with “the textual character of the texts,” namely, “scribes writing in the protoMasoretic tradition.”83 Overall, according to Tov, the “ad hoc,” “individualistic,” and “impressionistic” nature of spacing techniques locates their genesis in scribal preferences and writing practices.84 And even when spacing techniques do indeed reflect 80  Israel Yeivin, Introduction to the Tiberian Masorah, ed. and trans. E. J. Revell, MasS 5 (Missoula: Scholars Press, 1980), 58. 81  Emanuel Tov, “The Background of the Sense Divisions in the Biblical Texts,” in Delimitation Criticism: A New Tool in Biblical Scholarship, ed. Marjo C. A. Korpel and Josef M. Oesch, PSWRA 1 (Assen: Van Gorcum, 2000), 312–50, esp. 324. 82  Tov, Scribal Practices, 166–70. 83  Tov, “Background of the Stichometric Arrangements,” 418–20. 84  Tov, “Background of the Sense Divisions,” 313–14, 323–24, 327, 336–39. Whereas “ad hoc” conveys Tov’s judgment that spacing techniques lack any underlying principle that can be

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reading practices, spatialization preceded practical usage. For example, although Tov recognizes that there may be a connection between sense divisions and liturgical reading, the connection “was made after the divisions already existed, and not previously.”85 Therefore, the divisions were based on the “practices, not systems, of individual scribes” rather than upon public reading.86 Even though Tov’s assessment of spacing techniques is foundational, I take issue with the text-centered perspective of his explanation. As Tov observes, “When determining new sense units in the course of writing, without any overall plan, scribes must have been influenced by external facts.”87 Although Tov is referring to the occurrence of certain words or phrases, the “external facts” should also include how texts were performed. Since orality was an integral aspect of scribal culture in ancient Israel and Judaism of the Second Temple period, many of the “ad hoc” spacing techniques (including stichography) could be fashioned from a past, specific, and calculated understanding of the linguistic repertoire of spoken communication. As I will explain at length in Chapter 6, the unsystematic nature of spacing techniques may accurately represent the dynamic processes of oral performance. Most importantly, in the sociolinguistic context of ancient Judaism, reading practices and scribal practices cannot be isolated from one another. The same scribes who produced some of these texts also used some of these texts. As noted by George J. Brooke, “It is not unlikely that those who copied the scrolls were also among those who were required to study [them].”88 And to the degree that writing and reading practices coincide, they inform and shape one another. Thus, Tov’s explanation constructs an artificial dichotomy between spacing techniques and public reading. The public performance of texts does not derive from the idiosyncratic writing practices of scribes, who were isolated from practical use; rather, it seems more likely that scribal practices actually mirror public performance. Spacing techniques are an interface between consistently applied, “impressionistic” intimates his assessment that spacing techniques are based on unsystematic, subjective judgments of scribes. Eugene Ulrich’s evaluation of the spacing techniques in Isaiah arrives at a similar conclusion, although he uses the word “impressions.” See Eugene Ulrich, “Impressions and Intuition: Sense Divisions in Ancient Manuscripts of Isaiah,” in Unit Delimitation in Biblical Hebrew and Northwest Semitic Literature, ed. Marjo C. A. Korpel and Josef M. Oesch, PSWRA 4 (Assen: Van Gorcum, 2003), 279–307, esp. 304. 85  Tov, “Background of the Sense Divisions,” 337–38. 86  Tov, “Background of the Sense Divisions,” 338. 87  Tov, “Background of the Sense Divisions,” 341. 88  George J. Brooke, Reading the Dead Sea Scrolls: Essays in Method, EJL 39 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2013), 1–17, esp. 12.

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speech, writing, and memory—an interface that originated in a matrix of oral performance.89 3.1 Visible Song of Scribal Performance In this section, I explore the oral-written textuality of the Dead Sea Scrolls through theory derived from the study of medieval poetic texts. In particular, I use the studies of A. N. Doane and Katherine O’Brien O’Keeffe—specialists of Old English poetry—to understand the oral background of stichographic poetry in the Scrolls. On the one hand, Doane’s research demonstrates that scribes in an oral-written environment do not simply copy texts; rather, they “reperform” in the act of copying: Whenever scribes who are part of the oral traditional culture write or copy traditional oral works, they do not merely mechanically hand them down; they rehear them, “mouth” them, “reperform” them in the act of writing in such a way that a text may change but remain authentic, just as a completely oral poet’s text changes from performance to performance without losing authenticity.90 The scribe of Old English poetic texts, according to Doane, “has a status analogous to that of traditional performers of verbal art, but who as a part of his performance situation has the task of copying the oral register of utterance.”91 In the course of moving back and forth “between spoken and textualized utterances, the scribe recreates the transmitted message through his own performance within the tradition.”92 In sum, Doane shows us that scribes integrate

89  Concerning the interface between orality and literacy, see Lourens de Vries, “Local Oral-Written Interfaces and the Nature, Transmission, Performance, and Translation of Biblical Texts,” in Translating Scripture for Sound and Performance: New Directions in Biblical Studies, ed. James A. Maxey and Ernst R. Wendland, BPC 6 (Eugene: Cascade Books, 2012), 68–98, esp. 71–75; Susan Niditch, “Hebrew Bible and Oral Literature: Misconceptions and New Directions,” in The Interface of Orality and Writing: Speaking, Seeing, Writing in the Shaping of New Genres, ed. Annette Weissenrieder and Robert B. Coote, WUNT 260 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 3–18. 90  A. N. Doane, “Oral Texts, Intertexts, and Intratexts: Editing Old English,” in Influence and Intertextuality in Literary History, ed. Jay Clayton and Eric Rothstein (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1991), 75–113, esp. 80–81. 91  A. N. Doane, “The Ethnography of Scribal Writing and Anglo-Saxon Poetry: Scribe as Performer,” OrTr 9 (1994): 420–39, esp. 421. 92  Doane, “Scribe as Performer,” 421–22.

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the oral register of language—the linguistic and paralinguistic repertoires of spoken communication—into written copies.93 Although the Scrolls contain no explicit descriptions of scribes incorporating oral performance into their written copies, two passages are relevant to Doane’s notion of scribal performance. In a passage from the Psalms Pesher (4QpPsa [4Q171] 3–10 iv 26–27), the pen of a skilled scribe is compared with the Teacher’s tongue: “My tongue is the stylus of an [adept scribe] (Ps 45:1). [This refers to] the Teacher of [Righteousness …] God […] with an eloquent tongue […].”94 Unfortunately, this passage is poorly preserved. We can nevertheless ascertain the gist of the metaphor, which equates the scribe’s pen with the Teacher’s eloquent tongue or “purposeful speech.”95 Also, the speaker’s rhetorical question in 1QHa 9:25 intimates that written documents embody speech: “What can I speak that is not known and declare that is not written?” (‫)מה אדבר בלא נודע ואשמיעה בלא סופר‬. Note also that the word “written” (‫סּופר‬ ַ ) in this passage is closely related to the term “scribe” (‫סֹופר‬ ֵ ).96 On the other hand, O’Brien O’Keeffe’s research demonstrates that increased graphical reading cues in the MSS of Old English poetic works expose the oral literacy of scribes.97 More importantly, her research substantiates that “the fewer the number of graphic cues in the written message, the greater the information a reader must bring to the text in order to simply read it”; consequently, “[n]on-lexical graphic cues—hierarchy of script, capitals, lineation, significant space (for division of morphemes or larger units of meaning) and punctuation—all develop as graphic analogues to oral interpretive cues.”98 In short, spatialization and lineation in texts otherwise written in scriptio continua was added by scribes to facilitate oral performance. Just as a musical piece may be scored for ease of performance, the written format of the text provides what O’Brien O’Keeffe calls a “visible song” that presents a convenient reference point for recitation.99 93  Doane, “Scribe as Performer,” 420–23. 94  ‫ולשוני עט [סופר מהיר פשרו] על מורה [הצדק  ]◦◦ו אל במעני לשון‬. The translation is from Michael Owen Wise, Martin Abegg, and Edward Cook, The Dead Sea Scrolls: A New Translation (New York: HarperOne, 2005), 253, with minor modifications. 95  George J. Brooke, “The ‘Apocalyptic’ Community, the Matrix of the Teacher and Rewriting Scripture,” in Authoritative Scriptures in Ancient Judaism, ed. Mladen Popović, JSJSup 141 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 39–53, esp. 41–42. 96  I.e., “written documents” and “scribes” are homographs with the same root. 97  Katherine O’Brien O’Keeffe, Visible Song: Transitional Literacy in Old English Verse, CSASE 4 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 1–22. 98  O’Brien O’Keeffe, Visible Song, 4–5. 99  In addition, research in cognitive psychology has confirmed that written records can function as helpful reference points for approximate memorization and lengthy verbatim

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The appropriateness of Doane’s and O’Brien O’Keeffe’s theories to scribal practices in the Greco-Roman world is illustrated by phenomena of colometry and musical notation. In rare cases, ancient scribes added musical notation to their written copies in order to indicate the melody of a song. As far as I know, the earliest surviving instances of musical notation are the so-called Hurrian Songs, which were discovered amongst the cache of cuneiform tablets excavated at the ancient city of Ugarit (Ras Shamra, Syria).100 For my interests, however, Greek lyric poetry provides a more contemporaneous example from antiquity. The earliest melic texts were written with no musical notation. Perhaps as early as the fourth century, however, scribes started adding musical notation to some copies of Greek lyric poetry.101 In these musical scores, the melody was superscribed above the continuous lyrics using a series of special symbols or Greek letters.102 In few rare instances, they also arranged their musical scores colometrically—that is, they divided the lyrics of the song into poetic lines by writing each colon successively on its own column line.103 The earliest melic texts were written as prose, that is, as scriptio continua. But early in the third century BCE, scribes started placing dicolon marks between lines of verse (e.g., hexameter) in the continuous text, and by the end of the third century, scribes began to break the continuous text into rhetorical phrases and poetic lines.104 This colometric lineation doubtlessly functioned as an aid to performance, as the spacing and margins now distinguished the metrical structure and poetic units of the song. The earliest colometric recall. See Ian M. L. Hunter, “Lengthy Verbatim Recall: The Role of Text,” in Progress in the Psychology of Language, ed. Andrew W. Ellis, 3 vols. (London: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1985), 1.207–35, esp. 210–11; David C. Rubin, Memory in Oral Traditions: The Cognitive Psychology of Epic, Ballads, and Counting-out Rhymes (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995), 6–7. 100  For an overview, see M. L. West, “The Babylonian Musical Notation and the Hurrian Melodic Texts,” ML 75 (1994): 161–79, esp. 161–65, 171. 101  Lucia Prauscello, Singing Alexandria: Music between Practice and Textual Transmission, MnemSup 274 (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 1–6; Thomas Fleming, “The Survival of Greek Dramatic Music from the Fifth Century to the Roman Period,” in La colometria antica dei testi poetici greci, ed. Bruno Gentili and Franca Perusino, ISem 1 (Pisa: Istituti editoriali e poligrafici internazionali, 1999), 17–29. 102  M. L. West, Ancient Greek Music (Oxford: Clarendon, 1992), 254–76. 103  Although musical scores typically display a continuous script, we do have examples of lyric poetry from as early as the third century with both colometric arrangement and musical notation. Concerning the papyrological and epigraphic evidence, see Prauscello, Singing Alexandria, 183; Egert Pöhlmann, review of Singing Alexandria: Music between Practice and Textual Transmission, by Lucia Prauscello, Gnomon 80 (2008): 104–111, esp. 106. 104  Thomas Fleming and E. Christian Kopff, “Colometry of Greek Lyric Verses in Tragic Texts,” SIFC 3/10 (1992): 758–70, esp. 761.

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arrangements of lyric poetry date as far back as the third century BCE.105 Most classical scholars would trace formalization of this scribal practice back to Aristophanies (265–190 BCE), the head of the royal library in Alexandria.106 Aristophanes and subsequent scholars adopted a colometric layout when copying the texts of several melic poets, such as Pindar, Bacchylides, Sappho, etc.107 In addition, Aristophanes introduced a few marginal signs to indicate larger elements of poetic structure such as strophes.108 Debate continues within circles of classical scholarship about many details of this development, and this is not the place for a full discussion.109 For my interests in this chapter, however, one important fact has emerged from this debate. Without a doubt, the colometric layout of Greek poetry reflects an interface between the written tradition and the performative tradition of ancient songs.110 The written layout of Greek lyric poetry was spaced in a manner that reflected performance, both musical and vocal. Indeed, as Giovan D’Alessio and others have argued, some colometric layouts may derive from copies with musical notation.111 Aristophanes (and other Alexandrian scholars), according to several studies, may have resorted directly to musical scores or traditional performances to produce their colometric arrangements of poetic texts.112 Overall, the scribal practices of colometry and musical notation reflected in ancient Greek lyric poetry are paradigmatic examples of O’Brien O’Keeffe’s notion of a “visible song” of scribal performance because spacing and scoring represents how texts were actually heard and actually sung. 105  Egert Pöhlmann lists five papyri with colometric arrangements dating to the third century BCE (review of Singing Alexandria, 105 n.9). 106  Fausto Montana, “Hellenistic Scholarship,” in Brill’s Companion to Greek Scholarship, ed. Franco Montanari, Stefanos Matthaios, and Antonios Rengakos, 2 vols. (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 1.60–183, esp. 120; Thomas Fleming, “The Versus in Greek Metrics and Music,” QUCC 2/52 (1996): 123–31, esp. 123–24; Ian Rutherford, Pindar’s Paeans: A Reading of the Fragments with a Survey of the Genre (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 146–48. 107  Montana, “Hellenistic Scholarship,” 121. 108  Montana, “Hellenistic Scholarship,” 121. 109  Montana, “Hellenistic Scholarship,” 121. 110  According to Fausto Montana’s summarizing statement, “What we can positively observe, and at present this must be presumed even for Aristophanes, is some episodic interaction or interlacing between the musical/performative and the textual/bookish tradition” (“Hellenistic Scholarship,” 121). 111  Giovan Battista D’Alessio, “Pindar’s Prosodia and the Classification of Pindaric Papyrus Fragments,” ZPE 118 (1997): 23–60, esp. 58–59. 112  D’Alessio, “Pindar’s Prosodia,” 58–59; Fleming and Kopff, “Colometry of Greek Lyric Verses,” 761–62; Andrea Tessier, “Musica antica e sistemazione ‘colometrica’?” QUCC 2/94 (2010): 11–16, esp. 13–16; idem, Tradizione metrica di Pindaro, STD 3 (Padova: Imprimitur, 1995), 20–22.

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Even more importantly, colometry helps explain the function of stichography as a visible song of scribal performance. The vast majority of the Dead Sea Scrolls, like other ancient texts, exhibit a continuous script without punctuation and spacing. But stichographic arrangements of Hebrew poetry—similar to colometric arrangements of Greek poetry—are divided into poetic units. Similar to colometry, stichography is a form of sense division—that is, both colometry and stichography demarcate the text according to sense (senselines). Moreover, stichography (like colometry) reflects an interface between the written tradition and the performative tradition of poetic songs because both of these scribal practices function to aid oral performance. The practice of colometry was eventually applied to Greek translations of poetic books in the Hebrew Bible (e.g., the colometric layout of the poetic books in Codex Vaticanus and Codex Sinaiticus).113 As pointed out by Bruce M. Metzger, this colometric division served a similar purpose as with Greek lyric poetry: it divided poetry into sense-units in order “to assist the reader to make the correct inflection and proper pauses.”114 Likewise, the scribes behind the Dead Sea Scrolls applied stichography to poetic books in the Hebrew Bible. And, similar to colometry, the graphical division of the written text into the proper clauses and phrases was designed to assist the reader to correctly pronounce the text. Concerning the sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls, the importance of proper oral performance is discussed in two passages in the Community Rule (1QS) and the Damascus Document (CD). Generally speaking, all public speech during assembly meetings “was tightly controlled by a grid of community laws.”115 In particular, the recitation of authoritative Scripture was highly regulated. For example, the Community Rule establishes a strict punishment for blaspheming while reading the Book (i.e., the Torah): If he blasphemed (‫—)קלל‬either because of being terrified with affliction {or because of any other reason}, while he is reading the book or saying benedictions—he shall be excluded and never again return to the Council of the Community. (1QS 7:1–2)116

113  Swete, Old Testament in Greek, 346. 114  Bruce M. Metzger, Manuscripts of the Greek Bible: An Introduction to Greek Palaeography (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1981), 39. 115  Russel C. D. Arnold, The Social Role of Liturgy in the Religion of the Qumran Community, STDJ 60 (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 47. 116  The translation is from James H. Charlesworth et al., eds., The Dead Sea Scrolls: Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek Texts with English Translations, Volume 1: Rule of the Community and Related Documents (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1994), 31, with some minor modifications.

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The scribal addition of “any other reason” indicates a halakhic development that draws attention to the seriousness of this transgression.117 The semantic range of blaspheme includes the content and conventions of speech; accordingly, blaspheme denotes such acts as (1) speaking God’s name while reading the Torah or (2) reciting scripture in an incorrect manner. The latter connotation of blaspheme is explicitly indicated in a section containing “regulations on the disqualification of priests” in one Cave 4 MS of the Damascus Document:118 Anyone whose speech is too soft (‫ )וכול אשר נקל בלשונו‬or speaks with a staccato voice not dividing his words so that his voice may be heard (‫או‬ ‫)בקול טרוד דבר לו ולא פצל דברו להשמיע קולו‬, none of these shall read from the book of the Law lest he cause error in a capital manner. (4Q266 5 ii 1–2//4Q267 5 iii 3–4)119 The explicit association of blaspheme with the oral/aural aspects of speech in this passage is remarkable. The phrase “staccato voice” (‫ )בקול טרוד‬denotes speaking in a “continually dripping” or “cut-short” voice. Stichography provides a reference point for recitation that breaks up the linearity of a passage— literally dividing the reader’s speech (‫—)פצל דברו‬so that the speaker’s voice does not “cut short” or “continually drip.” With the seriousness of this transgression in mind, the formatted reference point provided by stichographic texts would have been an important and practical reading aid. 4

Sociolinguistic Setting of Stichography

Two characteristics of the corpus of stichographic texts suggest that they were orally performed. The physicality of some stichographic MSS suggests a setting of oral performance. 4QPsg (4Q89), 4QPsh (4Q90), and 5QPs (5Q5) originally consisted solely of Ps 119.120 This phenomenon is not limited to Ps 119; 117  Sarianna Metso, The Textual Development of the Qumran Community Rule, STDJ 21 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 97. 118  Charlotte Hempel, The Laws of the Damascus Document: Sources, Tradition and Redaction, STDJ 29 (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 38–42, esp. 39. 119  The translation is from Donald W. Parry and Emanuel Tov, eds., The Dead Sea Scrolls Reader, Part 1: Texts Concerned with Religious Law (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 93, with some minor modifications. 120  Concerning 4Q89–90, see Patrick W. Skehan, Eugene Ulrich, and Peter W. Flint, “Two Manuscripts of Psalm 119 from Qumran Cave 4,” RevQ 16 (1995): 477–86, esp. 478–79,

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4QDeutq (4Q44) originally included only the Song of Moses (Deuteronomy 32), and 4QPsl (4Q93) may have contained only Psalm 104.121 Since all of these MSS contained only one psalm (or song), they were not copies of the books of Deuteronomy or Psalms. Similar to excerpted texts (i.e., 4QDeutn [4Q41] and 4QDeutj [4Q37]), the unusual format of these songs and psalms suggests some special use.122 These texts are at odds with typical copying practices, yet they are ideal for oral performance because it is more manageable to recite from a sheet than a scroll. Although the corpus of stichographic texts in the Scrolls may seem to be a hodgepodge of compositions, the majority of stichographic texts are poetic songs.123 The book of Psalms occurs more often than other books, and Psalm 119 occurs more often than other psalms.124 This prevalence of Psalm 119 is no coincidence. Alphabetic acrostics such as Psalm 119 were likely used in pedagogical and liturgical contexts, and the stichographic presentation of Psalm 119 was an aid to both memorization and recitation.125 Stichographic arrangements of acrostic poems figure prominently in the stichographic corpus (see also 3QLam [3Q3], 5QLam [5Q7]). Stichographic poetry was likely read in a variety of liturgical and pedagogical contexts. Within the reading culture of Judaism of the Second Temple period, stichographic arrangements would have been ideal for synagogue meetings and other communal gatherings. As I previously described when discussing the Theodotus inscription, the education curriculum of ancient Judaism in the Greco-Roman world included the periodic reading of the Torah. Like this broader Jewish population, the sectarians living at Qumran and elsewhere also gathered together on a regular basis to read and to study authoritative texts. 482. Concerning 5Q5, see Maurice Baillet, Józef T. Milik, and Roland de Vaux, Les “Petites Grottes” de Qumrân (Textes), DJD 3 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1962), 174. 121  Concerning 4Q93, see DJD 16:127. Concerning 4Q44, see Eugene Ulrich et al., Qumran Cave 4.IX: Deuteronomy to Kings, DJD 14 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1995), 137. The last column of 4QDeutq (4Q44) is written on a single sheet of parchment, which is inconsistent with scribal practices regarding the typical number of columns per sheet (Tov, Scribal Practices, 81). 122  Both 4QDeutq (4Q44) and 4QDeutj (4Q37) are excerpted texts containing Deuteronomy 32, which suggests that the Song of Moses had some special use within the communities associated with the Scrolls (DJD 14:76, 79). 123  Many of the poetic songs are also didactic. Praise and instruction are not mutually exclusive categories of use. 124  Six MSS contain a stichographic layout of Psalm 119: 1QPsa (1Q10), 4QPsg (4Q89), 4QPsh (4Q90), 5QPs (5Q5), 11QPsa (11Q5), and 11QPsb (11Q6). Of these six MSS, 1QPsa (1Q10), 11QPsa (11Q5), and 11QPsb (11Q6) are prose except for Ps 119. 125  Karel van der Toorn, Scribal Culture and the Making of the Hebrew Bible (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2007), 99, 116.

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Within this narrower social context, stichographic arrangements of songs from the Torah and the Psalms would have been suitable for general membership meetings and nightly study sessions.126 In particular, the paraenetic review of sacred history in both the Song of the Sea and the Song of Moses is perfect for covenant ceremonies, where recitations of the songs of Moses could herald the speaker’s return to the Law of Moses. Oral confession in the form of historical recollection served as the heart of these ceremonies, and the fictionalized past embedded in Deuteronomy 32 and Exodus 15 is well suited to this topic. Stichographic songs from psalms were probably also sung during communal praise. Eileen M. Schuller has questioned the presence of singing in the communities associated with the Scrolls because the Rule Texts, as well as Philo’s and Josephus’s descriptions of the Essenes, do not provide any conclusive testimony that singing took place.127 In Chapter 5, I consider her argument and suggest that singing was indeed a vital component of the membership’s oral performance. For now, I point out that portrayals of singing in the Hodayot and the Community Rule strongly suggest that public worship contained psalms. In the Hodayot, for example, the Maskil orchestrates public worship by singing psalms that become a “foundation of jubilation”: What am I that you have [inst]ructed me in the secret counsel of your truth and that you have given me insight into your wondrous deeds, that you have put thanksgiving into my mouth, ps[al]ms upon my tongue, and (made) the utterance of my lips as the foundation of jubilation, so that I might sing of your kindness and reflect on your strength all the day? (1QHa 19:6–9)128 Similarly, according to the Community Rule the Maskil declares, “While I live, on my tongue shall the statute be engraved—with ps[al]ms its fruit, the gift of 126  Concerning the recitation of songs at community meals and meetings, see M. Delcor, “Qumran. Les Hymnes,” DBSup 51:861–904, esp. 897–900; Bo Reicke, “Remarques sur l’histoire de la forme (Formgeschichte) des textes de Qumran,” in Les manuscrits de la Mer Morte. Colloque de Strasbourg, 25–27 mai 1955, ed. J. Daniélou (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1957), 37–44, esp. 41–44. 127  Eileen M. Schuller, “Some Reflections on the Function and Use of Poetical Texts among the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Liturgical Perspectives: Prayer and Poetry in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Proceedings of the Fifth International Symposium of the Orion Center for the Study of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Associated Literature, 19–23 January, 2000, ed. Esther G. Chazon, Ruth A. Clements, and Avital Pinnick, STDJ 48 (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 173–90, esp. 180–83. 128   This translation is from Eileen M. Schuller and Carol A. Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms): A Study Edition of 1QHa, EJL 36 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2012), 59, with minor modifications.

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my lips. With knowledge shall I sing out my music, only for the glory of God” (1QS 10:8–9).129 In this passage, psalms are the fruit of memorizing and reciting written texts. Psalms are the statutes “engraved” upon his tongue. The performance of stichographic texts containing sapiential poetry proves more difficult to specify. According to David M. Carr’s study, ancient Jewish education utilized written texts such as the Torah.130 Sapiential poetry could also have been part of this education-enculturation program. Similarly, according to the Community Rule, members of the sectarian communities were required to study the Torah during nightly meetings. Along with the Torah, sapiential texts could also have been included in the curriculum under the umbrella of “everything that is revealed from the Law” (CD 15:13). Regulations in the Community Rule specify that members must behave properly before God “as He commanded through Moses (i.e., Torah) and all His servants the prophets (i.e., Prophets)” (1QS 1:3). The “prophets,” according to the view of Scripture in the sectarian movement, included some compositions later associated the “Writings,” such as Psalms and perhaps even sapiential texts (e.g., Job and Proverbs).131 5 Conclusion While on a fishing trip for mahi-mahi in the Gulf of California, I read a curious little book in which John Steinbeck described his own fishing expedition to the Sea of Cortez in 1940. If the reader will let me momentarily digress, I would like to summarize the overarching significance of my arguments in this chapter with an unusual quotation from the introduction of Steinbeck’s travelogue—a quotation where he draws a distinction between the way we encounter live fish in an ocean and dead fish in a laboratory: For example: the Mexican sierra has “XVII–15–IX” spines in the dorsal fin. These can easily be counted. But if the sierra strikes hard on the line so that our hands are burned, if the fish sounds and nearly escapes and finally comes in over the rail, his colors pulsating and tail beating the air, a whole new relational experience has come into being—an entity which 129  This translation is from Wise, Abegg, and Cook, The Dead Sea Scrolls, 132, with minor modifications. 130  David M. Carr, Writing on the Tablet of the Heart: Origins of Scripture and Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 126–34. 131  Concerning the book of Psalms, see Eugene Ulrich, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Origins of the Bible (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 17–33, esp. 21–22.

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is more than the sum of the fish plus the fisherman. The only way to count the spines of the sierra unaffected by this relational reality is to sit in a laboratory, open an evil-smelling jar, remove a stiff colorless fish from formalin solution, count the spines, and write the truth “D. XVII–15–IX”. There you have recorded a reality which cannot be assailed—probably the least important reality concerning either the fish or yourself.132 Steinbeck’s point, although wrongly or rightly biasing subjective experience over scientific categorization, is that taxonomy doesn’t tell the full story. And his point seems to me to equally apply to stichography and other scribal practices in the Dead Sea Scrolls. By detailing the systems, corpus, and functions of stichographic poetry in the Dead Sea Scrolls, I have spent a great deal of time cataloging “dead fish.” In a similar vein with Steinbeck’s objection, however, all of this “spine counting” actually doesn’t tell the full story of this scribal practice. In fact, it may be, in the words of Steinbeck, “the least important reality” concerning stichography. My entire argument is designed to shed light on what Steinbeck calls the “relational experience” of the Scrolls that existed in antiquity. The primary existence of this scribal practice lies in the memory and performance of ancient readers and scribes who spoke stichographically arranged compositions. It is this “relational experience” between fish and fisherman—text and speaker— that gives rise to stichography. As Pierre Bourdieu warned, “One of the illusions of the lector is that which consists in forgetting one’s own social conditions of production, and unconsciously universalizing the conditions of possibility of one’s own reading.”133 Our modern sense of writing, which “fictionalizes the speech act,” pays no heed to the connection between speech and writing that was organic to scribal practices in antiquity.134 Worse yet (for our purposes), a postmodern view of textuality idealizes the difference between speech and writing; actual spoken discourse neither precedes nor accompanies the circumstantial reality of the text.135 But in Judaism in antiquity, voice was not an 132  John Steinbeck, The Log from the Sea of Cortez (London: Penguin, 2011), 2. 133  Pierre Bourdieu, In Other Words: Essays Towards a Reflexive Sociology, trans. M. Adamson (Stanford: Standard University Press, 1990), 95. 134  According to Egbert J. Bakker, our modern sense of writing “fictionalizes the speech act, inventing a textual voice that in the written reception of the text has to function as the substitute of the absent author’s actual voice” (“How Oral is Oral Composition?” in Signs of Orality: The Oral Tradition and Its Influence in the Greek and Roman World, ed. E. Anne Mackay, MnemSup 188 [Leiden: Brill, 1999], 29–47, esp. 32). 135  Edward W. Said, “The Text, the World, and the Critic,” in Textual Strategies: Perspectives in Post-Structuralist Criticism, ed. Josué V. Harari (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1979), 161–88, esp. 164–65.

Oral-Written Textuality

153

abstracted entity that existed apart from text because, in the vast majority of circumstances, reading was speaking. Stichography is a visual representation of this interface between writing and speech. On the one hand, stichography graphically presents a scribal exposition of cola, parallelism, and poetic structure. On the other hand, stichography mirrors a scribal understanding of the manner in which compositions were performed. By incorporating their understanding of the spoken text into their written copies, scribes interacted with stichographic compositions as oral performers. To my mind, scribes in antiquity did not simply copy texts or textual traditions, mechanically duplicating them like automatons. Indeed, scribes are more artists than bots because they perform each piece anew, like musicians authentically recreating a cover song. Moving back and forth between their memory of oral performances and their “copies” of written compositions, scribes integrate their understanding of how a text should be spoken and read. Consequentially, stichographic texts provide a formatted reference point that is ideal for oral performance.

chapter 4

Oral-Written Register Within the ivory tower of academia, his story is somewhat of a legend. Constantin von Tischendorf (1815–1874), a professor at the University of Leipzig, spent a good deal of his life and financial resources searching for lost Bibles (and perhaps, on occasion, appropriating them).1 And he was successful. He was a man possessed with both a brilliant mind and a religious calling to find “the exact text” of the Bible, “as it came from the pen of the sacred writers.”2 He won international fame after deciphering and publishing the celebrated Codex Ephraemi, a Bible dating to the fifth century that was erased in the twelfth century to be reused for another composition.3 The funds from this publication (and others) enabled him to travel throughout Europe and eventually to St. Catherine’s monastery, one of the oldest monasteries in the world, at the foot of Jebel Musa in the Sinai Peninsula. It was there that he discovered, according to his own fascinating account, “the pearl of all my researches”: In visiting the library of the monastery, in the month of May, 1844, I perceived in the middle of the great hall a large and wide basket full of old parchments; and the librarian, who was a man of information, told me that two heaps of papers like these, mouldered by time, had been already committed to the flames. What was my surprise to find amid this heap of papers a considerable number of sheets of a copy of the Old Testament in Greek, which seemed to me to be one of the most ancient that I had ever seen.4 Tischendorf’s instincts proved right. Codex Sinaiticus contained a Greek translation of the Old Testament, about half of which survived, dating to the fourth century of the Common Era. This pearl is indeed a priceless gem for anyone interested in the Bible, as it contains the oldest complete copy of the Greek text of New Testament (fourth century CE). For my current interests, however, 1  Stanley E. Porter, “Hero or Thief? Constantine Tischendorf Turns Two Hundred,” BAR 41.5 (2015): 45–53, 66. 2  Constantin von Tischendorf, Codex Sinaiticus: The Ancient Biblical Manuscript Now in the British Museum. Tischendorf’s Story and Argument Related by Himself, 8th ed. (London: Lutterworth, 1933), 16–17. 3  Bruce M. Metzger, Manuscripts of the Greek Bible: An Introduction to Greek Palaeography (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1981), 18. 4  Tischendorf, Tischendorf’s Story and Argument Related by Himself, 23–24. © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | doi:10.1163/9789004408203_006

Oral-Written Register

155

the value of Tischendorf’s discovery lies not in the antiquity of its text but in the arrangement of its text. As I previously mentioned, the poetic books in both Codex Sinaiticus and Codex Vaticanus are colometrically arranged. The majority of Codex Sinaiticus is arranged in four columns per folio—that is, each page is divided into four columns. The Psalms, however, were written in two columns. A similar arrangement is also found in Codex Vaticanus, another ancient codex dating to the fourth century CE. The prose books of Codex Vaticanus are arranged in three columns per folio, whereas the Psalms and other poetic books exhibit two columns. As Henry Barclay Swete points out, these different arrangements of poetical books were necessitated by the colometric layout. According to Swete, “the poetical books [in these manuscripts] are written in cola of such length that the scribe has been compelled to limit himself in this part of his work to two columns instead of dividing his page into three or four.”5 In the previous chapter, I argued that stichography was analogous to colometry, because both are a form of scribal performance and sense division. In this chapter, I examine three additional scribal practices reflected in the Dead Sea Scrolls that mirror the oral communication of ancient readers. Special layouts, spacing techniques, and special codes—similar to stichography and colometry—reflect an interface between the spoken performance and the written format of ancient texts. Codex Sinaiticus provides an excellent illustration of this interface between the oral and written registers of language, especially when compared to stichographic texts in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Consider, for example, the striking correspondences between the stichographic division of Psalm 104:3–5 in 4QPsl (4Q93) and the colometric division of these same verses in Codex Sinaiticus. Similar to the colometry of Codex Sinaiticus, the stichography of 4QPsl (4Q93) demarcates one colon per column line. In Codex Sinaiticus, when the colon was too long for the column, the scribe indented the remainder of the colon on the following column line. In 4QPsl (4Q93) each column line contains one complete colon. Because the Hebrew cola in 4QPsl (4Q93) are much shorter than their Greek translation in Codex Sinaiticus, however, each colon fits neatly within the confines of a single column line. Overall, as the photograph, translation, and transcription of both manuscripts below show, stichography and colometry functioned to isolate poetic cola. 5  Henry Barclay Swete, An Introduction to the Old Testament in Greek (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1902), 346. A few early papyrus fragments from the second century also exhibit colometric arrangements or stichographic arrangements of psalms in Greek translation. For an example of colometry, see Bodleian MS Gr. Bibl. G. 5 (Rahlfs 2082), which contains a stichometric arrangement of Psalm 48:20–21; 49:1–3, 17–21. For a discussion, see J. W. B. Barns and G. D. Kilpatrick, “A New Psalms Fragment,” PBA 43 (1957): 229–32, esp. 229. For an example of stichography, see P. Barc. Inv. 2 (Rahlfs 2160) containing Psalm 14:3–5.

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4QPsl (4Q93)

figure 3

Codex Sinaiticus



Psalm 104:3–5 in the DSS and the LXX IAA Plate 1151, frg. 8 British Library Shelfmark MS 43725

table 17

Colometry of Psalm 103:3–5 in Codex Sinaiticusa

22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30

ο ϲτεγαζων εν υδαϲιν τα ϋπερωα αυτου ο τιθειϲ νεφεληνb επιβαϲιν αυτου ο περιπατων επι πτερυγων ανεμω[ν] ο ποιων τουϲ αγγελουϲ αυτου πν[ευμ]ατα και τουϲ λιτουργουϲ αυτου πυρ φλεγο[ν] ο θεμελιωϲενc την γην επι την αϲφαλιαν αυτηϲ ου κληθηϲεταιd ειϲ τον αιωνα του αιωνοϲ

Who covers with waters his chambers; who makes the clouds his chariot; who walks on the wings of the wind. Who makes the angels his spirits, and his ministers a fire aflame. Who establishes the earth on her solid foundation: it will not be moved forever and ever.

a Unless otherwise stated, all transcriptions and translations in this chapter are mine. Please note that Psalm 104 in the MT is Psalm 103 in the LXX. b I read this word as νέφη τὴν. c This is a scribal error. This should read ἐθεμελίωσεν. d I read this word as κλιθήσετα. table 18

Stichography of Psalm 104:3b–5 in 4QPsl (4Q93) I 7–12

He makes the clouds [his chariot], walking on the win[gs of the wind]. He makes the win[d]s his messengers, burning flame his ministers. He sets the earth on its foundations, it will never [ever] be sha[ken].

]‫֯ה ֯שם עבים [רכובו‬ ]‫המהלך על כנ֯ [פי רוח‬ ‫רוח[ו]ת‬ ֯ ‫עשי מלאכו‬ ‫משירתו אש להט‬ ‫מכוניה‬ ֯ ‫ישד ארץ על‬ ]‫לם [ועד‬ ֯ ‫לע‬ ֯ ]‫֯בל ֯ת ֯מ[וט‬

 7  8  9 10 11 12

Oral-Written Register

157

These striking similarities in colic delimitation and column lineation illustrate the similar function of colometry and stichography. The spacing and column lineation of both Codex Sinaiticus and 4QPsl (4Q93) represent how this psalm was sung. As pointed out by Bruce M. Metzger, the colometry of Codex Sinaiticus divides poetry into sense units in order to assist “the reader to make the correct inflection and proper pauses.”6 Likewise, the delimitation of cola in the stichography of Psalm 104 in 4QPsl (4Q93) graphically represents how this ancient song was spoken and heard. Both manuscripts witness a nexus between the written format and the spoken word of ancient texts. In a similar manner, special layouts, spacing techniques, and some special codes use spacing to indicate how texts should be spoken and read in antiquity. I begin with a comparison of the special layouts in the Scrolls and prescribed layouts in later texts, such as the Masoretic Text and Samaritan Pentateuch. Special layouts of the Song of the Sea and the Song of Moses are lucid examples of oral-written textuality—that is, they exhibit textual characteristics that are realized in spoken and written performance. In these cases, scribes acknowledged their readership’s experience with both textual format and oral performance. In the heart of this chapter, I survey a number of other spacing techniques that reflect the oral-written register of language. These spacing techniques, similar to stichography, do not merely indicate literary structure; rather, they inscribe cues to facilitate reading (performance) and interpretation (pedagogy). Finally, I explain three special codes that identify or invoke some aspect of oral performance. Scribal markings, cryptic scripts, and divine codenames are special codes because they signal proper oral performance and mirror how texts were actually read. Overall, special layouts, spacing techniques, and special codes illuminate the oral-written world of scribal practices and demonstrate that scribes incorporated oral register of language into their written copies. 1

Special Layouts

Two texts in the Dead Sea Scrolls clearly exhibit a special layout with a dual purpose: facilitating oral performance and inscribing graphical arrangement. In addition to stichography, the Song of Moses in 4QDeutq (4Q44) and the Song of the Sea in 4QPentateuchc (4Q365) display special graphical arrangements of the text. These special arrangements are incipient versions of prescribed special layouts, which eventually became a traditional way in which 6  Metzger, Manuscripts of the Greek Bible, 39.

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Deuteronomy 32 and Exodus 15 were inscribed. These special arrangements in the Dead Sea Scrolls and prescribed special layouts in the Masoretic Text and Samaritan Pentateuch are particularly compelling as they present lucid examples of oral-written textuality—that is, they exhibit textual characteristics that are realized in both speech and writing. 1.1 Song of the Sea According to rabbinic prescriptions, the Song of the Sea and the Song of Moses are two of five poetic sections in the Hebrew Bible that should be written in a special layout.7 Initially, only four sections, identified as songs in the Bible, required a special layout: the list of kings of Canaan (Josh 12:9), the list of Haman’s sons (Esth 9:7–9), the Song of the Sea (Exod 15), and the Song of Deborah (Judg 5). Eventually, however, the Song of Moses in Deuteronomy 32 was added. Instead of scriptio continua, these five poetic sections must be arranged in one of two prescribed special layouts forming either a bi-columnar or an interlocking pattern.8 The former was called “small brick over small brick, large over large,” as it constructs two columns side by side. The latter is called “small brick over large brick, large over small.” This type of arrangement forms an interlocking pattern, where inscribed areas are located above noninscribed areas. I have already discussed the stichography of the Song of the Sea in 4QPentateuchc (4Q365), so here I wish to focus on its special arrangement. At first blush, the Song of the Sea in 4QPentateuchc (4Q365) appears to only exhibit running stichography. A closer inspection, however, reveals a special arrangement of its spacing. Cola are strategically positioned above and below vacats, thereby creating an interlocking pattern reminiscent of the prescribed special layout of Exodus 15 in the Leningrad Codex (hereafter 𝔐L). The table below compares Exodus 15:16b–19 in 𝔐L and 4QPentateuchc (4Q365) 6b 1–6. The graphical layouts of these two compositions bear a striking similarity. As Emanuel Tov notes, the “Qumran arrangement is not as fixed as the rabbinic prescription”; nevertheless, the correspondences are strong enough to rule out coincidence.9 7  Cf. b. Shabbat 103b, b. Menahot 31b, b. Megilla 16b, Soferim 12:8–12. See Israel Yeivin, Introduction to the Tiberian Masorah, ed. and trans. E. J. Revell, MasS 5 (Missoula: Scholars Press, 1980), 43–44. 8  James L. Kugel, The Idea of Biblical Poetry (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1998), 121–27. 9  According to Tov, “To some extent, this layout may be presented as an extension of the system which is prescribed by the Talmud (‘a half-brick over a whole brick and a whole brick over a half-brick’) since the inscribed areas are indeed located above the non-inscribed areas,

Oral-Written Register

figure 4

159

Interlocking layout of 4Q365 and 𝔐L IAA Plate 800, frg. 2 (=PAM 43.373)

In addition to this graphical correspondence, the stichography of both documents is uniform. First, both texts utilize vacats rather than margins to demarcate hemistiches or cola. Second, although 4QPentateuchc (4Q365) subdivides cola into hemistiches, both texts isolate identical cola. Thus, 𝔐L exhibits half as many vacats as 4QPentateuchc (4Q365), but their vacats correlate with one another. For example, they both refrain from breaking up the formulaic phrase, “The Lord will rule forever and ever” (‫)יהוה ימלך לעלם ועד‬. Third, and perhaps most instructive, 4QPentateuchc (4Q365) and 𝔐L similarly demarcate Exodus 15:19, “for the sons of Israel walked on dry ground amidst the sea” (‫ובני‬ ‫)ישראל הלכו ביבשה בתוך הים‬. Both specimens faithfully represent the parallelism between each poetic line ending with “sea,” even though 𝔐L at this point must break the prescribed interlocking pattern in order to do so. According to “small brick over large brick,” Exodus 15:19 should be arranged in this manner: even though the Qumran arrangement is not as fixed as the rabbinic prescription” (Scribal Practices and Approaches Reflected in the Texts Found in the Judean Desert, STDJ 54 [Atlanta: SBL Press, 2004], 175). Tov elsewhere contends, however, that “the Samaritan writing of the Song of the Sea, in two cols. of clusters of 2–3 words is similar to the writing of that poem in 4QRPc [4QPentateuchc] (4Q365), which therefore reflects a writing tradition embedded in a pre-Samaritan text” (Scribal Practices, 176).

160 table 19

chapter 4 Interlocking pattern (Exod 15:19)

‫כי‬ ‫וישב יהוה עלהם את מי‬ ‫הים‬

‫יהוה ימלך לעלם ועד‬

‫ידיך‬ ‫בא סוס פרעה ברכבו ובפרשיו בים‬ ‫ובני ישראל הלכו ביבשה בתוך‬ ‫הים‬

Instead, 𝔐L combines the final two “bricks” so that “sea” (‫ )הים‬may be connected with the concluding line thus:10 table 20

Stichography of Leningrad Codex (Exod 15:19)

‫כי‬ ‫וישב יהוה עלהם‬ ‫ובני ישראל הלכו ביבשה בתוך הים‬

‫יהוה ימלך לעלם ועד‬

‫ידיך‬ ‫בא סוס פרעה ברכבו ובפרשיו בים‬ ‫את מי הים‬

Similarly, the stichography of 4QPentateuchc (4Q365) also includes vacats after each “sea” in Exodus 15:19 in order to graphically represent the parallelism between these poetic lines. Overall, these commonalities provide strong evidence for a scribal tradition of special layouts for the written form of certain poetic passages. Stichographic texts in the Dead Sea Scrolls, in some cases, are incipient versions of prescribed special layouts found in later textual witnesses. In particular, the stichography of 4QPentateuch (4Q365) is a so-called “proto-Masoretic” graphical arrangement. More importantly, the Song of the Sea in 4QPentateuchc (4Q365) attests that later Masoretic scribes did not create the special layout from a carte blanche but were heirs to an earlier inchoate system of graphical layouts.11 10   This discrepancy is misrepresented by Aron Dotan, the editor of Biblia Hebraica Leningradensia, who did not print the special layout of Exodus 15:19 as it actually appears but rather as it should appear according to the prescribed interlocking layout (Biblia Hebraica Leningradensia: Prepared According to the Vocalization, Accents, and Masora of Aaron ben Moses ben Asher in the Leningrad Codex [Peabody: Hendrickson, 2001], 103). In the appendix, however, Dotan includes a note on the actual format (1241). 11  Tov arrives at a similar conclusion, although with two important differences: he contends 4QPentateuch (4Q365) represents a “proto-Samaritan” tradition of special layouts, and 4QDeutq (4Q44) represents a “proto-Masoretic” tradition of special layouts. For his views of 4QPentateuch (4Q365), see Emanuel Tov, “Rewritten Bible Compositions and Biblical Manuscripts, with Special Attention to the Samaritan Pentateuch,” DSD 5 (1998): 334–54,

Oral-Written Register

161

1.2 Song of Moses There are five stichographic manuscripts of Deuteronomy 32, two of which are neither identical nor complete.12 We will examine their variations in the next chapter. Below I focus on 4QDeutq (4Q44), as this particular exemplar likely had some special use within the communities associated with the scrolls. As indicated by Eugene Ulrich, it probably originally contained only the Song of Moses (Deut 32:1–43).13 In its present fragmentary state, however, 4QDeutq (4Q44) only preserves Deut 32:37–43. I note four features of stichography in 4QDeutq (4Q44). First, it resembles the “small brick over small brick” bi-columnar arrangement. Second, although both columns are arranged stichographically, column 1 is irregular. Lines 5–8 and 11 of column 1 comprise two cola, whereas column 2 contains only one colon per column line.14 Third, the margins delimit cola, as 4QDeutq (4Q44) includes no vacats. Fourth, column lines do not represent lines of verse. For example, the second column begins in the middle of the bicolon line, “I will return vengeance upon my enemies, and repay those who hate me.” Overall, the stichography in 4QDeutq (4Q44) is not a haphazard division or an aesthetic device that juxtaposes random chunks of words, because it consistently demarcates cola. The special layout in 4QDeutq (4Q44) displays marked similarities with the layout found in the Samaritan Pentateuch (hereafter SP) and Aleppo Codex (hereafter 𝔐A).

esp. 339–41. For 4QDeutq (4Q44), see Emanuel Tov, “The Background of the Stichometric Arrangements of Poetry in the Judean Desert Scrolls,” in Prayer and Poetry in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature: Essays in Honor of Eileen M. Schuller on the Occasion of Her 65th Birthday, ed. Jeremy Penner, Ken Penner, and Cecilia Wassen, STDJ 98 (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 409–20, esp. 419. 12  4QDeutb (4Q29), 4QDeutc (4Q30), 4QpaleoDeutr (4Q45), and 1QDeutb (1Q5). 13  Column 2 lacks stitching on the left margin and contains a large bottom margin. This indicates that 4QDeutq (4Q44) was not a (complete) Torah scroll, as it likely ended at chapter 32. See Eugene Ulrich et al., Qumran Cave 4.IX: Deuteronomy to Kings, DJD 14 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1995), 137–38. Additionally, the second column is written on a separate sheet of parchment, which is inconsistent with scribal practices for Torah scrolls. Torah scrolls typically contained more than one column per sheet (Tov, Scribal Practices, 81). In a similar vein, 4QDeutn—an excerpted text with a special use—begins with a sheet containing only one column (DJD 14:117). 14  D JD 14:137–38.

162

chapter 4 Aleppo Codex (Deut 32:38–43)

4Q44 (Deut 32:37–43)

figure 5

Bi-columnar layout in Aleppo Codex PAM 42.164

table 21

Transcription of 4QDeutq (4Q44) I–II 1–11

‫[ולמשנ]אי אשלם‬ ‫[אשכיר]ה חצי מדם‬ ‫תא]כל בשר‬ ֯ ‫[וחרבי‬ ‫[מדם חלל ו]שביה‬ ‫[ר]עו֯ ת אי֯ ו֯ ב‬ ֯ ‫ו֯ ֯מ ֯ר[אש] ֯פ‬ ‫הרנינו שמים עמו‬ ‫והשתחוו לו כל אלהים‬ ‫כי דם בניו יקום‬ ‫ונקם ישיב לצריו‬ ‫ולמשנאיו ישלם‬ ‫ויכפר אדמת עמו‬

]‫[וא]מר יהו֯ ֯ה [איה אלהימו‬ a]‫אשר [חסיו בו‬ ֯ ‫[צ]ו֯ ֯ר‬ ]‫זבח[ימו יאכלו‬ ֯ ֯‫חל[ב]י‬ ֯ ]‫[אשר‬ ]‫[ישתו] יין [נסיכם‬ ]‫[יקומו ו]י֯ עז֯ רכם [יהי עליכם סתרה‬ ]‫[ראו עתה] כי אני ֯א[ני הוא ואין אלהים עמדי‬ ]‫[אני אמית ואחיה מחצתי ואני ארפא‬ ‫י]די‬ ֯ ‫אל [שמים‬ ֯ ‫א]שא‬ ֯ ‫[ואין מידי] מצי֯ [ל כי‬ ]‫[ואמרתי חי] ֯אנכי [לעולם‬ ‫[ר]ק ֯ח ֯רבי‬ ֯ ‫[א]ם שנתי ֯ב‬ ֯ ‫[ותאחז] במשפט ֯יד[י] אשיב נ֯ ֯ק[ם] ֯ל ֯צרי‬

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

a The beginning of this line could also be reconstructed as ‫( אי הצור‬DJD 14:140). table 22

1 2 3 4 5

Translation of 4QDeutq (4Q44) I–II 1–11

The Lord [s]aid,”[Where are their gods]?” The [r]ock [in] which [they took refuge]; [Who ate] the f[a]t of [their sac]rifices, [and drank] the wine [of their libation]. [Let them rise and] help you, [let him be a protection over you].

[and] repay [those who hat]e me. [I will make] my arrows [drun]k with blood, [and my sword will dev]our flesh. [With the blood of the slain and] captives, and from the enemy’s l[on]g-haired he[ad].

163

Oral-Written Register table 22

6 7 8

9 10 11

Translation of 4QDeutq (4Q44) I–II 1–11

[See now] that I, [I am he], [and there are no other gods beside me]. [I kill and give life], [I wound and I heal], [and from my hand there is no] escap[e]. [For I l]ift up my [ha]nd to [the heavens], [and I say] “I [live forever.]” [Wh]en I sharpen my fla[sh]ing sword, [and my] hand [holds] judgment, I will take vengea[nce] on my enemies,

(cont.)

Praise his people O heavens, and bow down to him all the gods. For he will avenge the blood of his sons, and return vengeance to his enemies. He will repay those who hate him, and atone for the land of his people.

All three set Deuteronomy 32 in a bi-columnar arrangement: 4QDeutq (4Q44) appears in two columns (one column per sheet) read successively, whereas SP and 𝔐A contain two columns (per folio) read side by side. The main difference occurs in column 1, lines 5–8, 11, where 4QDeutq (4Q44) exhibits two cola per line. 𝔐A, like the majority of manuscripts in the Samaritan tradition, does not combine these cola. A difference created by textual discrepancies also occurs at the end of column 2, as the version of the Song of Moses in 𝔐A and SP contain two fewer cola.15 Despite these differences, the delimitation of cola in all three is largely congruent. In particular, 4QDeutq (4Q44) closely resembles the tradition of division found in the SP. For example, the cola in 4QDeutq (4Q44) column 1, lines 5–7, perfectly match the cola in the SP Deut 32:38b–39.16 Interestingly, the Abisha Scroll (Samaritan) XXIII 38–40 groups similar cola as 4QDeutq (4Q44) I 6–8.

15  Compared with 4QDeutq (4Q44), 𝔐A and SP omit two cola (i.e., 4Q44 II 7, 10). For a summary of textual variants, see Jeffrey H. Tigay, The JPS Torah Commentary: Deuteronomy (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1996), 516–18. For the layout of the SP, see August von Gall, ed., Der Hebräische Pentateuch der Samaritaner (Giessen: Töpelmann, 1918), 433. 16  Gall, Der Hebräische Pentateuch, 433.

164 table 23

chapter 4 Song of Moses in Abisha Scrolla

4Q44 I 5–11

Abisha Scroll XXIII 38–41

5 ]‫ [יקומו ו]י֯ עז֯ רכם [יהי עליכם סתרה‬vacat ‫ יהיו עליכם סתרה‬vacat ‫ויעזרוכם‬ 6 ]‫[ראו עתה] כי אני ֯א[ני הוא ואין אלהים עמדי‬ ‫ראה עתה כי אני אני הוא ואין אלהים‬ 7 ]‫ אני אמית ואחיה מחצתי ואנכי [אני אמית ואחיה מחצתי ואני ארפא‬vacat ‫עמדי‬ 8 ‫י]די‬ ֯ ‫אל [שמים‬ ֯ ‫א]שא‬ ֯ ‫[ואין מידי] מצי֯ [ל כי‬ ‫ארפה ואין מידי‬ ]‫ [ואמרתי חי] ֯אנכי [לעולם‬vacat ‫ כי אשא אל השמים ידי‬vacat ‫מציל‬ 9 10 ‫[ר]ק ֯ח ֯רבי‬ ֯ ‫[א]ם שנתי ֯ב‬ ֯ ‫ אם שנתי‬vacat ‫ואמרתי חי אנכי לעלם‬ ‫ [ותאחז] במשפט ֯יד[י] אשיב נ֯ ֯ק[ם] ֯ל ֯צרי‬vacat ‫ ותאחז במשפט ידי‬vacat ‫ברק חרבי‬ 11 ‫ ולמשנאי אשלם‬vacat ‫אשיב נקם לצרי‬

38 39 40 41

a Federico Pérez Castro, Séfer Abišaʿ: Edición del fragmento antiguo del rollo sagrado del pentateuco Hebreo Samaritano de Nablus: Estudio, transcripción, aparato crítico y facsímiles, TSCC 2 (Madrid: C.S.I.C., 1959), 107.

The punctuation marks between words (period) and cola (colon), found throughout the Abisha Scroll, divide the Song of Moses in an identical manner. Taken together with the bi-columnar arrangement, this correspondence points to a scribal convention of stichography underlying the delimitation and layout of 4QDeutq (4Q44). I do not intend to imply, however, that all versions of the Song of Moses or the Song of the Sea in later Samaritan and Masoretic textual traditions correspond with special arrangements in the Scrolls. On the one hand, the interlocking layout of the Song of the Sea in 4QPentateuchc (4Q365) displays marked dissimilarities with the special layout of Samaritan manuscripts. Although a few are stichographic, the majority of manuscripts display a bi-columnar, ornamental arrangement that divides lines of verse solely by appearance.17 On

17  I am grateful to Stephen Collins-Elliot for assisting me with the translation of August von Gall’s academic Latin. According to Gall, “All of ‫[ קצה‬Exodus] XV, 1 was written poetically in ABCD4EFG1HINPQW3Y1𝔄𝔇𝔊ℑ. Only MSS 𝔊ℑ exhibit our division of the verses of the Song [of the Sea] given in the example. The other MSS, neglecting the order of the verses and sentences, divide them only by appearance” (Der Hebräische Pentateuch, 145). In other words, whereas most manuscripts exhibit an ornamental “poetic” division, only two display a stichographic bi-columnar arrangement (i.e., “𝔊”=Sasson MS 30 and “ℑ”=Cod. Gaster 800). For a description of these MSS, see von Gall’s catalogue of manuscripts (Der Hebräische Pentateuch, xxxv–xxxvi). Thus, Abraham Tal and Moshe Florentin’s edition

165

Oral-Written Register

the other hand, when the bi-columnar layout of the Song of Moses in 4QDeutq (4Q44) is compared with 𝔐L, an equally discordant picture emerges. Although 𝔐L is bi-columnar, it exhibits no principle of division except to keep two solid chunks of text on either side of the folio. The two columns do not present poetic units in any coherent way.18 The columns in 𝔐L even divide words joined with a maqqef (conjunctive accent). Thus, the prescribed bi-columnar layout of Deuteronomy 32 in 𝔐L is purely aesthetic: the “small brick over small brick” denotes that the reader is encountering a special passage of poetry, but the delimitation of the poem is inconsistent with poetic structure.19 In summary, a complex picture emerges of the relationship between special layouts in stichographic scrolls and prescribed layouts in later texts. On the one hand, in some medieval manuscripts the scribe’s focus is the transmission of a specific written layout to the reader rather than the graphical representation of 4QDeutq (4Q44)

figure 6

Leningrad Codex

Bi-columnar layout in Leningrad Codex PAM 42.164

 of the SP, which is based on MS Shechem 6, does not arrange this section stichographically (The Pentateuch: The Samaritan Version and the Masoretic Version [Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University Press, 2010], 240–43). 18  Similar to the majority of layouts of Song of the Sea in Samaritan manuscripts, the special layout of the Song of Moses in 𝔐L denotes that Deuteronomy 32 is a passage of poetry; the delimitation of the text, however, is not consistent with parallelism. For a comparison of 𝔐L, 𝔐A, and Damascus Pentateuch (specifically with reference rabbinic prescriptions), see Paul Sanders, The Provenance of Deuteronomy 32, OtSt 37 (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 102–11. 19  According to Paul Sanders, “In Codex Leningradensis the breaking off of the lines seems to have taken place pragmatically, without taking into account the meaning and poetic structure of the text” (The Provenance of Deuteronomy, 103).

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parallelism. The correlation between spacing and poetic structure is therefore nebulous in some later medieval MSS. On the other hand, some stichographic layouts in the Dead Sea Scrolls are incipient versions of special layouts found in later textual witnesses. 4QPentateuchc (4Q365) presents an incipient version of the Masoretic arrangement of the Song of the Sea, and 4QDeutq (4Q44) presents an incipient version of the Samaritan arrangement of the Song of Moses. In these cases, special arrangements in the Scrolls and prescribed layouts in later texts consistently divide the text into sense units according to parallelism. Oral performance is the best explanation for this consistent sense division. In the Dead Sea Scrolls, special arrangements function as reference points for memorization and recitation, as the demarcation of speech facilitates pedagogy and performance. Overall, special arrangements in the Dead Sea Scrolls evidence the oral-written register of language: oral, because the increased spatialization and sense division of stichography facilitates performance; written, because the graphical format realizes a specific inscribed form of the text. 2

Spacing Techniques

Although some prescribed layouts in later textual traditions (e.g., SP, 𝔐L, and 𝔐A) can help clarify special arrangements in the Dead Sea Scrolls, it would be misleading to view every spacing technique through canonical lenses. In 𝔐L, for example, the peculiar spacing of the poetic books—or the ‫( דברי אמ״ת‬as they were called)—was dictated more by aesthetics than poetics. When they copied poetic books, the Masoretic scribes did not use vacats to delineate poetic units but rather to create an artistic image on the page.20 Thus, in contrast to stichographic arrangements of Job, Proverbs, and Psalms in the Scrolls, the written format of these books in the Leningrad Codex is not a visible song of scribal performance. As an illustration, I return to the stichography of Psalm 104. Above I compared the stichography of this psalm with the colometry of Codex Sinaiticus. The table below, however, compares the stichographic spacing of Psalm 104 in the Dead Sea Scrolls with the artistic spacing of this same psalm in 𝔐L.

20  ‫ת‬  ‫ דברי אמ״‬is an acronym formed from the first letter of the three major poetic books: ‫( איוב = א‬Job), ‫( משלי = מ‬Proverbs), and ‫( תהלים = ת‬Psalms).

167

Oral-Written Register 4Q93 I 6–12 (Ps 104:3–5)

figure 7

Leningrad Codex (Ps 104:3–14a)

Psalm 104 in 4QPsl (4Q93) and the Masoretic Text IAA Plate 1151, frg. 8 (=PAM 43.030)

The stichographic spacing of both 4QPsl (4Q93) and 4QPsd (4Q86) consistently divides one colon per column line.21 When one compares this stichography with 𝔐L, two important sets of data emerge. On the one hand, the artistic spacing of 𝔐L is clearly inconsistent with poetic structure. Unlike the colometry of Codex Sinaiticus discussed above, the spacing does not function to demarcate poetic lines. At first glance, 𝔐L may appear to be a running text with interspersed vacats. Upon closer examination, however, the vacats in 𝔐L demarcate cola only 71 percent of the time.22 On the other hand, the stichography of Psalm 104 in the Scrolls is entirely consistent with the Masoretic accents: 21  Although 4QPsl (4Q93) and 4QPsd (4Q86) exhibit comparable stichography, I should note two noteworthy dissimilarities. First, 4QPsd (4Q86) was originally a complete Psalms scroll, whereas 4QPsl (4Q93) was likely an excerpted Psalm. Second, 4QPsd (4Q86) begins with continuous script and switches to a stichographic format somewhere around half way through the Psalm. On account of a large lacuna before the first stichographic line (4QPsd [4Q86] III 13), however, I am uncertain where the stichography begins in the column. See Eugene Ulrich et al., Qumran Cave 4.XI: Psalms to Chronicles, DJD 16 (Oxford: Clarendon, 2000), 69. Although switching between continuous script and stichography in the middle of a psalm is unique, multiple psalms scrolls contain both prose and stichographic formats of different psalms (1QPsa [1Q10], 4QPsd [4Q86], 11QPsa [11Q5], 11QPsb [11Q6]. 22  Paul Sanders arrives at a similar conclusion in his analysis of the accents and spacing for Psalms 1–14 in the Aleppo Codex (“The Colometric Layout of Psalms 1 to 14 in the Aleppo Codex,” in Studies in Scriptural Unit Division, ed. Marjo C. A. Korpel and Josef M. Oesch, PSWRA 3 [Assen: Van Gorcum, 2002], 246–55).

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every colon that is isolated by the stichography in 4QPsd (4Q86) and 4QPsl (4Q93) is also demarcated by a disjunctive accent in 𝔐L. At least for Psalm 104, these data suggest that stichography in the Scrolls and disjunctive accents in 𝔐L have a similar basis. Essentially, Masoretic accents are a system of marking many different grades of conjunction and disjunction between the constituents or clauses in a line. Although it was soon thought that the joints in the text (and disjoints) revealed through accents determined sense units, this is not their chief function.24 As James L. Kugel has masterfully shown, a distinct asymmetry between accents and parallelism sometimes occurs.25 More likely, these cantillation marks, as they are also appropriately called, functioned foremost to facilitate both musical performance and oral recitation.26 Overall, Masoretic scribes and ancient Jewish scribes represented the oral performance of Psalm 104 differently. The scribes behind the Dead Sea Scrolls used spacing to represent the oral register of language. But the Masoretic scribes behind the Leningrad Codex used spacing for artistic imagery and accents to represent the oral register of language. 2.1 Performance Cues In addition to stichography, a wide variety of other spacing techniques reflected in the Scrolls were designed to facilitate oral performance. The connection between spacing and performance in non-stichographic texts is perhaps best illustrated by the space breaks in 4QDaniela,d—space breaks, which frequently correspond to the sof pasuq and atnah in the Masoretic Text.27 As Stephen J. Pfann has suggested, the vacats in 4QDaniela (4Q112) and 4QDanield (4Q115) probably represent performance cues. According to Pfann, “The scribes who 23  The spacing of 𝔐L compared to 4QPsd (4Q86) and 4QPsl (4Q93), however, is less comparable. In all of Psalm 104, ten out of the total of twenty-nine (34%) spaces do not coincide with a disjunctive accent within 𝔐L; furthermore, six out of a total of twelve (50%) do not coincide with a vacat. 24  Concerning the correspondence between accents and sense units, see E. J. Revell, “The Accents: Hierarchy and Meaning,” in Method in Unit Delimitation, ed. Marjo C. A. Korpel, Josef M. Oesch, and Stanley E. Porter, PSWRA 6 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 61–91. 25  According to Kugel’s analysis, the complex system of accents often obscures the true nature of parallelism (Idea of Biblical Poetry, 113–16). Although Kugel overstates his argument, he nonetheless demonstrates that accents do not always correspond to sense units. 26  E. J. Revell, “Biblical Punctuation and Chant in the Second Temple Period,” JSJ 7 (1976): 181–98; Charles Perrot, “Petuḥot and setumot: Étude sur les alinéas du Pentateuque,” RB 76 (1969): 50–91, esp. 78–81. 27  Stephen J. Pfann, “The Aramaic Text and Language of Daniel and Ezra in the Light of Some Manuscripts from Qumran,” Text 16 (1991): 127–37, esp. 136; idem, “4QDanield (4Q115): A Preliminary Edition with Critical Notes,” RevQ 17 (1996): 36–71, esp. 46.

Oral-Written Register

169

copied these scrolls fully intended that the breaks would instruct the reader in the proper pauses and word clusters that he should note while reading.”28 The use of spatialization for performance concerns also occurs in the Hodayot. The large vacats that often occur before the pronoun “I” in the Hodayot, for example, indicate divisions—pauses in performance—between individual hymns. According to Hartmut Stegemann and Eileen M. Schuller, “There are at least forty-three subsections in the Hodayot that begin with ‫;ואני‬ in most places, there is a small vacat of 3–8 mm before ‫ואני‬.”29 Overall, the vacats in the Hodayot do not merely mark literary structure; rather, similar to modern translations that employ spacing to divide psalms (and subsections of psalms), they also assist readers to utilize the text. They alert the reader to specific ways of reading the Hodayot. Similarly, the large spaces in 4QBerakhota,b (4Q286–287) after “amen amen” mark the conclusion of blessings and curses. In the passage below, vacats (located in lines 1 and 5) demarcate a curse against Belial:

figure 8

Spacing of 4Q286 7a ii 1–5 PAM 41.586 (=IAA Plate 692, frg. 1)

As the translation of this passage clarifies, the social setting of this curse is public, communal, and liturgical performance, for the entire community is commanded to “say together” or “speak” the curse against Belial:

28  Pfann, “Aramaic Text and Language of Daniel,” 136. Pfann concludes that “the system of line divisions utilized in these manuscripts represent an unconnected (or only loosely connected) pre-Masoretic system based upon logical breaks and word clusters, used here by certain scribes (including the scribe of 4QDana), which was an early effort to convey to the reader stops which the Masoretes later indicated in much greater detail” (“A Preliminary Edition with Critical Notes,” 53). 29  Hartmut Stegemann, Eileen M. Schuller, and Carol A. Newsom, Qumran Cave 1.III: 1QHodayota, with Incorporation of 4QHodayota–f and 1QHodayotb, DJD 40 (Oxford: Clarendon, 2009), 243.

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All of them will say together: “Amen. Amen.” vacat And then [they] will curse Belial and all his guilty lot. And they will speak up, saying, “Cursed be [B]elial in his hostile [sc]heme, and damned is he in his guilty authority. And cursed are all the spir[its] of his [lo]t in their wicked scheme, and they are damned in the schemes of their [un]clean impurity; for [they are the lo]t of darkness, and their punishment is in the eternal pit. Amen. Amen. vacat30 With this sociolinguistic context in mind, vacats such as these in 4QBerakota,b (4Q286–287) could trigger an emphatic pause between speech acts or mirror some other aspect of oral performance. Generally speaking, the above types of spacing techniques are analogous to (1) pausal forms and (2) paragraphing (open/closed sections), which represent performance cues and reading sections, respectively, in Torah manuscripts.31 As 4QBerakota,b (4Q286–287) illustrates, spatialization sometimes isolates speech acts and linguistic forms for performance concerns. In 4QBerakota,b (4Q286–287), vacats isolate blessings and curses. In other instances, however, scribes utilized vacats to demarcate oaths and vows. For example, vacats delimit two oaths that were incorporated into the Hodayot’s performance (i.e., 1QHa 6:28–33, 7:21–25).32 A paradigmatic example of this spacing technique occurs in 4QBeatitudes (4Q525), a sapiential composition modeled on biblical Wisdom literature.33 Although 4QBeatitudes (4Q525) is written in a running script, at least one section containing a list of beatitudes is stichographically arranged (4Q525 2–3 ii 1–6). Tables 27 and Table 28 include a transcription and translation of the stichographic section of 4QBeatitudes (4Q525), and Table 29 lists the eight passages demarcated by vacats:

30  D SSR 1:93. 31  Paul Sanders, “Pausal Forms and the Delimitation of Cola in Biblical Hebrew Poetry,” in Unit Delimitation in Biblical Hebrew and Northwest Semitic Literature, ed. Marjo C. A. Korpel and Josef M. Oesch, PSWRA 4 (Assen: Van Gorcum, 2003), 264–78; Josef M. Oesch, “Textgliederung im Alten Testament und in den Qumranhandschriften,” Henoch 5 (1983): 289–321; Revell, “Biblical Punctuation and Chant,” 181–98; Perrot, “Petuḥot and setumot,” 78–81. 32  See Chapter 5 §4.2. 33  Concerning sapiential themes of 4QBeatitudes (4Q525), see Matthew J. Goff, Discerning Wisdom: The Sapiential Literature of the Dead Sea Scrolls, VTSup 116 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 214–29.

Oral-Written Register

figure 9

4QBeatitudes (4Q525) 2–3 ii 1–6 IAA Plate 423/1, frg. 2 (=PAM 43.600)

table 24

Transcription of 4Q525 2–3 ii 1–6

‫ אשרי תומכי חוקיה ולוא יתמוכו‬vacat ‫֯בלב טהור ולוא ֯רגל על לשונו‬ ‫ אשרי דורשיה‬vacat ‫ ֯א ֯ש[רי] ֯ה ֯גלים בה ולוא יביעו בדרכי אולת‬vacat ‫בדרכי עולה‬ ‫ ויתהלך‬vacat ‫ אשרי אדם השי֯ ֯ג חוכמה‬vacat ‫בבור כפים ולוא ישחרנה ב[לב] מרמה‬ ‫תמ[י]ד‬ ֯ ‫ ויתאפק ביסוריה ובנגועיה ירצה‬vacat ‫בתורת עליון ויכן לדרכיה לבו‬ ‫ולוא יטושנה בעוני מצר[יו] ובעת צוקה לוא יעוזבנה ולוא ישכחנה [בימי פ]חד‬ ‫ כי בה יהגה תמיד ובצרתו ישוח[ח בה ובכו]ל‬vacat ‫[ע]לנה‬ ֯ ‫ובענות נפשו לוא ֯יג‬

table 25

1

2 3 4 5

6

171

1 2 3 4 5 6

Translation of 4Q525 2–3 ii 1–6

[vacat? Blessed is the one who speaks truth] with a pure heart, and does not slander with his tongue. vacat Blessed are those who grasp her laws, and do not grasp the ways of iniquity. vacat Bless[ed] are those who rejoice in her, and do not utter the ways of folly. vacat Blessed are those who seek her with pure hands, and do not seek her with a deceitful [heart]. vacat Blessed is the man who has obtained wisdom, vacat and walks in the law of the Most High, and prepares his heart for her ways, vacat and controls himself according to her lessons, and al[wa]ys accepts her corrections. He does not forsake her in the afflictions of [his] tests, and during the time of anguish he does not abandon her. And he does not forget her [in the days of f]ear, and during the affliction of his soul he does not re[je]ct her. vacat For he always thinks about her, and during his distress he meditates on her. And in all

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table 26

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

The eight lines in 4Q525 2–3 ii 1–6

[vacat? Blessed is the one who speaks truth]a with a pure heart, and does not slander with his tongue. vacat Blessed are those who grasp her laws, and do not grasp margin the ways of iniquity. vacat Bless[ed] are those who rejoice in her, and do not utter the ways of folly. vacat Blessed are those who seek her margin with pure hands, and do not seek her with a deceitful [heart]. vacat Blessed is the man who has obtained wisdom, vacat and walks margin in the law of the Most High, and prepares his heart for her ways. vacat and controls himself according to her lessons, and al[wa]ys accepts her corrections. margin He does not forsake her in the afflictions of [his] tests, and during the time of anguish he does not abandon her. And he does not forget her [in the days of f]ear, margin and during the affliction of his soul he does not re[je]ct her. vacat

a I follow Émile Puech’s suggested reconstruction: ‫[אשרי דובר אמת] בלב טהור‬. See Émile Puech, Qumrân grotte 4.XVIII: Textes hébreux (4Q521–4Q528, 4Q576–4Q579), DJD 25 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1998), 126. For a detailed explanation, see Émile Puech, “The Collection of Beatitudes in Hebrew and in Greek (4Q525 1–4 and Matt 5, 3–12),” in Early Christianity in Context: Monument and Documents, ed. F. Manns and E. Alliata, SBFCMa 38 (Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press, 1993), 353–68, esp. 353–54.

The first four vacats consistently occur immediately before each blessing formula, thereby demarcating four bicolon lines. The fifth vacat, however, delimits the monocolon line, “Blessed is the man who has obtained wisdom.” This line is isolated because it introduces a list of beatitudes that employ ellipsis of its blessing formula. This list includes the next two bicolon lines, which are demarcated by the sixth and seventh vacats. Finally, the eighth vacat concludes the beatitudes section. Similar to 4QPentateuchc (4Q365 6b 1–6), 4QBeatitudes (4Q525 2–3 ii 1–6) exhibits a running text in which vacats act as demarcation markers. When a colon happens to begin/conclude at a margin, however, a vacat is superfluous (cf. 4QPentateuchc [4Q365] 6b 3, 5). Therefore, 4Q525 2–3 ii 5 does not begin with a vacat. Overall, the vacats in 4QBeatitudes (4Q525) function to demarcate both poetic lines and individual beatitudes. With the oral setting of this linguistic

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form in mind (i.e., beatitudes), stichography likely functioned to facilitate reading this rather clumsy list. While beatitudes are common in the Hebrew Bible and Jewish literature of the Second Temple period, sequences of beatitudes are very rare.34 Therefore, spatialization provided particularly important reading cues, which aided in fluently reading the individual beatitudes. In fact, as Ben Sira 14:20–21 also displays, spatialization was so helpful in beatitude lists that some scribes even added vacats to beatitude lists in otherwise nonstichographic manuscripts.35 A similar type of spacing designed to isolate linguistic forms for performance concerns occurs in Instruction-like Work (4Q424), another sapiential composition with affinities to Proverbs.36 Although Instruction-like Work (4Q424) is written in scriptio continua, two sections exhibit stichography similar to 4QBeatitudes (4Q525). The stichography is most apparent in 4Q424 3 6–8, which contains a running list of six proverbs (Figure 10). The spacing and column lineation of this running list is represented in Table 30, whereas Table 31 enumerates the six proverbs. The second notable instance occurs in 4Q424 1 4b–10, which contains a running list of five proverbs (Figure 11). The spacing and column lineation of this running list is represented in Table 32, whereas Table 33 enumerates the five proverbs.

figure 10 Instruction-like Work (4Q424) 3 6–8 IAA Plate 123, frg. 2 (=PAM 43.502)

34  Raymond Collins, “Beatitudes,” ABD 1:629–31; Matthew J. Goff, “Beatitudes,” EBR 3:674–75. For lists of beatitudes similar to 4QBeatitudes (4Q525), see Ben Sira 14:1–2, 20–21 (MS A) and Ben Sira 25:8 (MS C) in Pancratius C. Beentjes, 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, VTSup 68 (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 42–43, 98. 35  The list in Ben Sira 14:20–21 (MS A) contains one small vacat, which divides its two bicolon lines. For the placement of the vacat, see Beentjes, The Book of Ben Sira in Hebrew, 43 n.18. 36  Instruction-like Work (4Q424) contains a collection of wisdom sayings concerning the types of people to be avoided and admonitions on other practical topics such as money (John Kampen, Wisdom Literature [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011], 300–302).

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table 27

6 7 8

Translation of 4Q424 3 6–8a

Do not send a man of unreceptive mind to devise plots, for the wisdom of his mind is hidden away, nor can he control i[t]; the cunning of his hands he cannot find out. vacat A man of intelligence accepts instruct[tion]. vacat A man of knowledge obtains wisdom. [vacat?] A man of uprightness takes delight in justice. vacat A man of truth re[joices in a prov]erb. vacat A man of substance is zealous for […]

a DSSR 4:268–69. table 28

1

2 3 4 5 6

The six proverbs in 4Q424 3 6–8

margin Do not send a man of unreceptive mind to devise plots, for the wisdom of his mind is hidden away, nor can he control i[t]; margin the cunning of his hands he cannot find out. vacat A man of intelligence accepts instruct[tion]. vacat A man of knowledge obtains wisdom. [vacat?] margin A man of uprightness takes delight in justice. vacat A man of truth re[joices in a prov]erb. vacat A man of substance is zealous for […]

In both instances, vacats demarcate varying numbers of cola in a running text. In 4Q424 1 4b–10, for example, vacats demarcate five poetic lines containing one, two, four, two, and five cola, respectively. Overall, as I described in the previous chapter, this spacing technique occurs in texts otherwise written in scriptio continua (4Q424, 5Q525) or in texts otherwise displaying a different type of stichography (4QProvb [4Q103], 4QPsc [4Q85]). Lines of verse do not correspond to column lines, and margins do not act as demarcation markers (unless cola happen to conclude at the margin). What is the purpose of this spacing technique in 4Q424? First, similar to spacing in 4QBeatitudes (4Q525), the vacats in 4Q424 isolate individual speech forms, such as beatitudes or proverbs. Second, similar to 4QBeatitudes (4Q525), vacats in 4Q424 likely functioned to facilitate reading these unwieldy lists of proverbs. Spatialization provided important reading cues as some proverbs in these lists consisted of multiple poetic lines. The last example of spacing for performance concerns, I examine a passage from an excerpted text, 4QDeutn (4Q41). The special format of excerpted psalms or excerpted Torah passages likely derived from some special use within the community. In particular, Moshe Weinfeld has proposed that 4QDeutn

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figure 11 Instruction-like Work (4Q424) 1 4b–10 IAA Plate 123, frg. 1 (=PAM 43.502) table 29

Translation of 4Q424 1 4b–10a

4b vacat With a dissembler do not have a portion, vacat and with one who strays do not 5 go into the furnace, for like lead so will he be melted and will not resist fire. vacat 6 Into the hand of one who is stupid do not entrust a secret, for he will not keep private your affairs. And do not entrust a [your?] instruction 7 to a dullard, for he will not make clear all of your ways. vacat A man who complains do not expe[ct from him] 8 to receive money for your need. vacat Do not trust a man of devious speech [for he will pervert?] 9 your judgment. He will surely be deceptive in his speech; he will not run after the truth 10 […] in the fruit of his lips. vacat a DSSR 4:266–67. table 30

1 2 3

4 5

The five proverbs in 4Q424 1 4b–10

vacat With a dissembler do not have a portion, vacat and with one who strays do not margin go into the furnace, for like lead so will he be melted and will not resist fire. vacat Into the hand of one who is stupid do not entrust a secret, for he will not keep private your affairs. And do not entrust a [your?] instruction margin to a dullard, for he will not make clear all of your ways. vacat A man who complains do not expe[ct from him] margin to receive money for your need. vacat Do not trust a man of devious speech [for he will pervert?] margin your judgment. He will surely be deceptive in his speech; he will not run after the truth […] margin in the fruit of his lips. vacat

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figure 12 Spacing of 4QDeutn (4Q41) I 1–8 IAA Plate 981, frg. 1 (=PAM 42.642) table 31

Translation of Deuteronomy 8:5–10 in 4QDeutn (4Q41) I 1–8a

top margin (1) Know then in your heart that, as a man disciplines his son, the LORD your God disciplines you. Therefore keep (2) the commandments of the LORD your God, by walking in his ways and by loving him. vacat (3) For the LORD your God is bringing you into a good and wide land, a land with flowing streams, with springs and underground waters (4) welling up in valleys and hills, a land of wheat and barley, of grapevines and fig trees and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and honey, empty line (5) (6) a land in which you will eat bread without scarcity, in which you will lack nothing, a land (7) whose stones are iron, and out of whose hills you can dig copper. vacat And you shall eat and be full (8), and you shall bless the LORD your God for the good land he has given you. bottom margin a This is the NRSV translation, with modifications when required by textual discrepancies.

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(4Q41) is “a scroll for a liturgical purpose: the recital of the Decalogue, next to the blessing after meals.”37 As Weinfeld correctly notes, the material in column 1 (Deut 8:5–10) likely constituted grace. The spacing in this column corroborates Weinfeld’s proposition. As the above translation shows, an empty line divides the short prayer into two halves. But the division occurs at a curious spot: “a land of wheat and barley, of grapevines and fig trees and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and honey, blank line a land in which you will eat bread without scarcity, in which you will lack nothing.” According to Weinfeld, the blank line is strategically located to disassociate “bread” (in the bottom half) from fruits (in the top half). In Weinfeld’s words, “The scribe of this scroll wished to make it known that the blessing in v. 10 [Deut 8:10] belonged to the section in which bread is mentioned and not to the fruits mentioned in v. 8 [Deut 8:8].”38 Overall, as later halakhic disputes suggest, the topic of Deuteronomy 8:5–10 includes to two basic notions: food and drink.39 In sum, the spacing in 4QDeutn (4Q41) divides the prayer into two halves (drink and bread) and four sections: introduction, drink, food, and blessing proper. In order to better understand the function of this spacing, I turn to descriptions of community meals in Rule Texts. Unfortunately, grace is only mentioned twice (1QS 6:4–5, 1QSa 2:17–21). Although the exact contents of grace are not detailed, some details are nonetheless ascertainable. The priest must bless the food before the meal commences. The table having been set (food), the wine having been poured (drink), according to both descriptions, the priest then blesses both bread and wine. Thus, the meal and blessing consist of two basic elements: wine and bread. In a similar fashion, grace in 4QDeutn (4Q41) is divided into two halves corresponding with fruit and bread. In addition, both the top half and the bottom half are further subdivided by two vacats. This spacing represents pauses or some other aspect of performance that occurred as the prayer progressed from one section to the next. 37  Moshe Weinfeld, “Grace after Meals in Qumran,” JBL 111 (1992): 427–40, esp. 428. 38  Weinfeld, “Grace after Meals,” 429. 39  Weinfeld explains this blank line in light of tannaitic halakhic disputes concerning benedictions after food and drink. Is one required to recite the full blessing after bread and wine or just after bread? According to Weinfeld, the scribe added the blank line in order to indicate that one must recite the full blessing only after eating bread; wine, however, only requires a short blessing (“Grace after Meals,” 429). Thus, for Weinfeld, 4QDeutn (4Q41) pertains to grace after meals. Although the scrolls do not mention grace after meals, Josephus describes this as an Essene practice (Jewish War 2:131). In any case, my point stands regardless of whether grace in 4QDeutn (4Q41) occurred before or after meals.

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figure 13 Spacing of 4Q394 1–2 i–iii 1–11 PAM 43.521 (=IAA Plate 693)

2.2 Pedagogical Cues I conclude my discussion of spacing techniques with two examples of spacing that likely functioned to facilitate (1) instruction and (2) interpretation. Concerning instruction, the scribe of 4Q394 (formerly 4Q327), a calendric text, “presented the information in a narrow format in order to record only one piece of information per line, either a number or a date.”40 This spatialization thereby creates lists (of dates), which could be consulted for reference, memorization, or oral instruction. A similar pedagogical purpose was likely at the heart of the spacing technique in fragments 1–2 of 4Q320, another calendric text. Throughout 4Q320 1 i 6–14, 4Q320 1 ii 1–14, and 4Q320 2 9–14 each line contains two corresponding dates. As the editors of the editio princeps have noted, these MSS are essentially an equation tables.41 Similar to multiplication tables in arithmetic, this table probably functioned as a pedagogical aid. Because the demarcation of a text is a form of exegesis, spacing techniques also reveal scribal interpretation. Spacing sometimes cues a particular interpretation of a passage. As an example, I turn to three different spacing arrangements of Isaiah 19:14–15 found in 1QIsaa, 4QIsab (4Q56), and 1QIsab (1Q8).42 The 40  Tov, Scribal Practices, 83. 41   Shemaryahu Talmon, Jonathan Ben-Dov, and Uwe Glessmer, Qumran Cave 4.XVI: Calendrical Texts, DJD 21 (Oxford: Clarendon, 2001), 40. 42  For a brief overview of these spacing techniques, see Eugene Ulrich, “Impressions and Intuition: Sense Divisions in Ancient Manuscripts of Isaiah,” in Unit Delimitation in

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figure 14 1QIsaa 15:20–30 (Isa 19:15b–22a)

nineteenth chapter of Isaiah contains an oracle about God’s future punishment and restoration of Egypt, divided into poetic (Isa 19:1–15) and narrative (Isa 19:16–24) sections. The latter section is interspersed with the phrase, “on that day” (‫)ביום ההוא‬, which punctuates the narrative at verses 16, 18, 19, 21, 23, and 24. According to the scribes of 1QIsaa, “on that day” (‫ )ביום ההוא‬was a formula that (1) signaled the beginning of the narrative portion of Isaiah’s oracle and (2) subdivided the narrative into smaller subsections. The scribes of 1QIsaa indicated this delimitation by placing vacats before five subsections beginning with this phrase (Isa 19:16 [1QIsaa 15:20], Isa 19:18 [1QIsaa 15:23–24], Isa 19:19 [1QIsaa 15:25], Isa 19:21 [1QIsaa 15:29], and Isa 19:24 [1QIsaa 16:1]).43 In this specific case, the Great Isaiah Scroll (1QIsaa) preserves an incipient version of the traditional delimitation and reading tradition found in 𝔐L, which has closed paragraph spacing (‫ )ס‬before the phrase “on that day” (‫ביום‬ ‫ )ההוא‬in Isaiah 19:16, 18–19, 24. The similarity in reading tradition is also witnessed by correspondences in the absence of spacing: both 𝔐L and 1QIsaa do not exhibit spacing before “on that day” (‫ )ביום ההוא‬in 19:23. The scribe(s) of 1QIsab (1Q8), however, did not read this passage in the same manner as the scribes of 𝔐L and 1QIsaa. More specifically, the scribe of 1QIsab (1Q8) did not attach special importance to the phrase “on that day” (‫)ביום ההוא‬ Biblical Hebrew and Northwest Semitic Literature, ed. Marjo C. A. Korpel and Josef M. Oesch, PSWRA 4 (Assen: Van Gorcum, 2003), 279–307, esp. 280–81. 43  Concerning Isaiah 19:18 (1QIsaa 15:23–24), the phrase “on that day” (‫ )ביום ההוא‬comes at the beginning of line 24, and the scribe placed a small vacat before this phrase at the conclusion of the previous column line (line 23).

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as an indicator of new reading sections and therefore did not utilize vacats before this phrase in Isaiah 19. A third intermediate interpretation is witnessed by the scribe 4QIsab (4Q56). This scribe utilized spacing before this phrase in Isaiah 19:19, 23, and 24 (4QIsab [4Q56] 10–13 26–27 [Isa 19:19], 32–33 [Isa 19:23], 34–35 [Isa 19:24]), but not before the phrase in Isaiah 19:16, 18, and 21.44 In all three instances of spacing, the scribe of 4QIsab (4Q56) places “on that day” (‫ )ביום ההוא‬at the beginning of the column line and includes a large vacat at the end of the previous column line. These different spacing arrangements perform a dual function: they inform the speaker how to properly read and how to correctly interpret Isaiah’s prophecy. In order to explain the divergent interpretations reflected in these spacing arrangements, I turn to the delimitation of Isaiah 19:14–15—the point at which Isaiah’s oracle transitions from poetry to narrative—in 1QIsaa, 4QIsab (4Q56), and 1QIsab (1Q8). First, according to the scribes of 1QIsaa, the transition is indicated by the first occurrence of “on that day” (‫)ביום ההוא‬, immediately following the final strophe of the poetic oracle. table 32 1QIsaa 15:17–20 (Isa 19:14–15)

1. The Lord has poured into them a spirit of confusion And they have made Egypt stagger in all its doings As a drunkard staggers around in vomit 2. Neither head nor tail, palm branch or reed, will do anything Egypt will not be able to do anything

17–18 18 18–19 19 19–20

The second poetic line (i.e., 1QIsaa 15:19–20 [Isa 19:15]) is a denouement, a concluding statement that summarizes the horrible effects of God’s judgment described in the poetic oracle, particularly in verses 11–14, where the prophet criticizes the leadership of Egypt. Immediately following this passage, the scribe of 1QIsaa begins a narrative section with the first of five vacats and “on 44  The vacat before “on that day” (‫ )ביום ההוא‬in Isaiah 19:19 (4QIsab [4Q56] 10–13 26–27) is not indicated in the transcription of the editio princeps. See Eugene Ulrich et al., Qumran Cave 4.X: The Prophets, DJD 15 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1997), 29. Nonetheless, the last remaining word on the previous column, ]‫ל[אחת‬, ends in the middle of the line. Since this was also the last word of the previous verse (Isa 19:18), a vacat should be reconstructed at the end of line 26. According to Skehan and Ulrich, “There was probably an open section after v 18” (DJD 15:30).

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that day” statements: “vacat on that day, the Egyptians will be like women, and tremble with fear before the hand that the Lord of hosts raises against them” (1QIsaa 15:20–21 [Isa 19:16]). According to this interpretation, the Egyptians will be afraid “on that day” because of God’s plan, which is spelled out in the next four “on that day” statements. Second, the position of the vacat in the last line after “on that day” reflects a different interpretation in 4QIsab (4Q56): “Neither head nor tail, palm branch or reed, will do anything on that day vacat.” The next line continues, “The Egyptians will be like women, and tremble with fear …” The scribe of 4QIsab (4Q56) includes “on that day” as a part of the summarizing statement at the end of the poetic oracle. In this scribe’s interpretation, “on that day” (here) refers not to the day when Egypt and Assyria will recognize the God of Israel (described in the subsequent “on that day” statements in the narrative section), but to the day when God makes fools out of Egypt’s leaders with “spirits of confusion.” Third, the position of a vacat in the middle of the last line, after “Egypt will not be able to do anything,” reflects yet another interpretation in 1QIsab (1Q8): table 33 1QIsab (1Q8) VII 7–8 (Isaiah 19:14–15a)

1. 2.

The Lord has poured into them a spirit of confusion And they have made Egypt stagger in all its doings As a drunkard staggers around in vomit Thus, Egypt will not be able to do anything vacat

7 7 7–8 8

This version continues, “neither head nor tail, palm branch or reed, will do anything. On that day, Egypt will be like a woman, and tremble with fear …” The scribe of 1QIsab (1Q8) ends the poetic oracle in a different place, thereby creating two bicolon lines instead of a tricolon and bicolon line in the final strophe. This interpretation directly connects Egypt’s impotence with the inebriation caused by imbibing God’s “spirits.” The leaders of Egypt, however, are associated with the following “on that day” statement, suggesting that their inability to act is connected to their paralyzing fear of God’s plan (described in the subsequent lines [Isa 19:17]). According to this spacing, they are frozen in fear, not feeble from drunkenness. Overall, as I have argued above, the three different spacing techniques of Isaiah 19:14–15 in 1QIsaa, 4QIsab (4Q56), and 1QIsab (1Q8) cue different ways to read and interpret Isaiah’s oracle.

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Special Codes

In this last section, I examine another scribal practice that evidences the use of the scrolls in oral performance: special codes. For our purposes, a special code is a system of signals used to identify and invoke oral performance. By way of introduction, I turn to the work of Richard Bauman, a folklorist and ethnopoeticist, whose study of performance has fundamentally shaped my arguments in this section. Generally speaking, media critics define oral performance as the reading, recitation, or enactment of a text or tradition before an audience.45 According to Bauman, however, performance is defined in terms of conventionalized metacommunication.46 Every speech community has a range of speech that is conventionally performed and a set of conventionalized speech forms that signal performance.47 In Bauman’s terms, these speech forms are “keys to performance,” as they unlock how performance is both identified and invoked. Bauman compiles a list of widely documented speech forms that cue performance.48 According to Bauman, special codes are amongst the most prominent keys to performance in oral poetry from around the world: “The use of special codes is one of the most widely noted characteristics of verbal art, so much so that special linguistic usage is taken often as a definitive criterion of poetic language.”49 With the importance of special codes in mind, I focus below on three types of codes in the Scrolls that likely signaled or reflected some aspect of oral performance: scribal markings, cryptic scripts, and divine codenames. 3.1 Scribal Markings As an example of scribal markings, I consider so-called “line-fillers.” In the Habakkuk Pesher (1QpHab)—a commentary on the book of Habakkuk—at the end of the lines just short of the left margin, the puzzling mark “X” intermittently occurs. On the one hand, Tov proposes that these scribal markings are line-fillers. “The purpose of these line-fillers,” according to Tov, “was to point out that the space at the end of the line was not to be taken as a section 45  Rafael Rodríguez, Oral Tradition and the New Testament (London: Bloomsbury, 2014), 27. 46  Richard Bauman, Verbal Art as Performance (Prospect Heights: Waveland Press, 1984), 3–4, 9–11. When the performer includes explicit or implicit instructions on how to interpret a message being communicated, we call this metacommunication (Verbal Art as Performance, 15). 47  Bauman, Verbal Art as Performance, 13–16. 48  Bauman, Verbal Art as Performance, 16–24. 49  Bauman, Verbal Art as Performance, 17.

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marker (‘open section’).”50 On the other hand, Gregory Snyder suggests that these scribal markings are performance cues that prevent the reader from making an unwanted pause while reading.51 As noted by Snyder, the markings follow an unusually large space at the end of the line, which “might have deceived a reader into thinking that the end of a sentence or section had been reached, perhaps leading to an unwanted pause or change in intonation.”52 In sum, Tov relates the mark “X” in the Habakkuk Pesher to scribal writing practices, whereas Snyder connects it “with the oral recitation of the text.”53 What’s more, their viewpoints illustrate the oral-written textuality of the Habakkuk Pesher: oral (Snyder), as the mark “X” facilitates oral performance; written (Tov), as it clarifies the graphical format of the text.54 Let us briefly consider two examples that illustrate how the scribal marking “X” in the Habakkuk Pesher functioned as a performance cue. In the example below, an “X” occurs in the midst of a quotation (Hab 2:1–2), which should be fluently read as a single bicolon line: “So I will stand on watch X and station myself on my watchtower.”

figure 15 Scribal mark “X” in 1QpHab 6:11–13

50  Tov, Scribal Practices, 209. 51  H. Gregory Snyder, “Naughts and Crosses: Pesher Manuscripts and Their Significance for Reading Practices at Qumran,” DSD 7 (2000): 26–48, esp. 42–43; Emanuel Tov, “Scribal Markings in the Texts from the Judean Desert,” in Current Research and Technological Developments on the Dead Sea Scrolls, ed. Donald W. Parry and Stephen D. Ricks, STDJ 20 (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 41–77, esp. 65–68. 52  Snyder, “Naughts and Crosses,” 42–43. See also George J. Brooke, “Physicality, Paratextuality and Pesher Habakkuk,” in On the Fringe of Commentary: Metatextuality in Ancient Near Eastern and Ancient Mediterranean Cultures, ed. Sydney Aufrère, Philip S. Alexander, and Zlatko Pleše, OLA 232 (Leuven: Peeters, 2014), 175–94, esp. 187–89. 53  Tov, Scribal Practices, 209 n.261. 54  For a detailed discussion of the scribal marking “X” in the Habakkuk Pesher, see Gregory L. Doudna, 4Q Pesher Nahum: A Critical Edition, JSPSup 35 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 2001), 239–40.

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In the next example, we consider a proportional space that occurs at the beginning of the previous column (1QpHab 5:1–3). Similar to 1QpHab 6:11–13, we see an unusually large space in the left margin. But in this instance, the space happens to fall at the conclusion of a quotation (Hab 1:12–13a): “Eyes too pure to see evil, you cannot even watch wrongdoing.” And since a pause is now permitted, the “X” is omitted.

figure 16 Absence of scribal mark “X” in 1QpHab 5:1–3

As these two examples illustrate, the scribal marking “X” is essentially a reading cue, which graphically indicates places where one should not treat a large space as punctuation at the conclusion of a column line. Otherwise one might mistakenly pause during oral performance. 3.2 Cryptic Scripts Some compositions are written in one of three different cryptic scripts (Cryptic A, B, and C) that represent the Hebrew alphabet with unusual signs. According to Pfann, cryptic scripts functioned to encrypt a composition for the eyes of the Maskil—the authoritative teacher of the community.55 If Pfann’s theory is correct, then we can assume that deciphering cryptic scripts was a part of the Maskil’s performance role.56 Moreover, encrypted texts were inaccessible to ordinary members. Some encrypted texts, however, contain the Maskil’s instructions for the community at large (e.g., 4Q298). In these cases, the Maskil would need to publicly read them to the community. In Charlotte Hempel’s words,

55  Stephen J. Pfann, “The Writings in Esoteric Script from Qumran” in The Dead Sea Scrolls Fifty Years after Their Discovery: Proceedings of the Jerusalem Congress, July 20–25, 1997, ed. Lawrence H. Schiffman, Emanuel Tov, and James C. VanderKam (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2000), 177–89, esp. 181–82; idem, “4Q298: The Maskil’s Address to All Sons of Dawn,” JQR 85 (1994): 203–35, esp. 224–25. 56  In other words, deciphering cryptic scripts was a part of the Maskil’s “performance role.” According to Bauman’s study of performance, each component of performance—that is, participants, performers, and audience—has a particular culturally defined role (Verbal Art as Performance, 29–31).

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It is rather doubtful that the addressees named in the body of the text (children of dawn, people of understandings, etc.) would have been expected to read cryptic script. It is more likely that 4Q298 is the Maskil’s “crib sheet” which would have been delivered orally on his part.57 Pfann’s theory therefore implies that some encrypted texts were orally performed. Cryptic scripts are a special code, which invokes a particular performance role—namely, the Maskil’s. Cryptic and paleo-Hebrew signs also appear in the margins of some compositions. Although the existence of these marks has been known for some time, their exact usage remains enigmatic.58 Interestingly, many of these signs were secondarily inserted into manuscripts. According to Tov, these unexplained signs may well refer to a sectarian coded message or interpretation.59 But these signs could concomitantly signal the reader to some aspect of performance or use within the community. If Pfann’s theory of compositions written in cryptic scripts is correct, perhaps these cryptic signs identify aspects of oral performance specific to the Maskil’s office or other leadership offices within the community. As Michael Owen Wise comments concerning the use of cryptic scripts in The Words of the Heavenly Lights (4Q504–506), “The notations apparently give directions for using the prayers in public worship. One such notation, an ‘m,’ may have been an abbreviation whose placement cued the participation of the maskil.”60 3.3 Divine Codenames Divine names were written in a special way in many of the Dead Sea Scrolls for performance purposes. The divine name was represented in paleo-Hebrew letters, tetrapuncta, and a dicolon. Although Tov acknowledges that this scribal practice is related to speech,61 the main thrust of his explanation portrays divine codenames as a scribal writing practice.62 According to Tov, this practice undoubtedly reflects a reverence for the divine name, which was considered 57  Charlotte Hempel, The Qumran Rule Texts in Context: Collected Studies, TSAJ 154 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 319. 58  Tov, Scribal Practices, 203–4. 59  Tov, Scribal Practices, 203–4. 60  Michael Owen Wise, Martin Abegg, and Edward Cook, The Dead Sea Scrolls: A New Translation (New York: HarperOne, 2005), 522. “Alternatively,” Wise continues, “the ‘m’ may have been an abbreviation for the Hebrew word mizmor, a technical term that also appears in the headings of many biblical psalms” (The Dead Sea Srolls, 522). 61  Tov, Scribal Practices, 218, 243. 62  Tov, Scribal Practices, 238–39, 245–46.

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so sacred that it “was not to be written with regular characters lest an error be made or lest it be erased by mistake.”63 But another valid explanation emerges when we view the Dead Sea Scrolls as spoken words (speech) that appeared in oral performance (reading). Because compositions were orally performed, these special ways of writing the divine name were also critical for alerting against pronouncing the divine name. According to the Community Rule, all persons are commanded not to utter the divine name on pain of expulsion: Anyone who speaks aloud the M[ost] Holy Name of God, [whether in …] or in cursing or as a blurt in time of trial or for any other reason, or while he is reading a book or prayer, is to be expelled, never again to return to the party of the Yaḥad. (1QS 6:27–7:2)64 Interestingly, this regulation makes no mention of writing; rather, it prohibits speaking God’s name. Moreover, this passage explicitly forbids verbalizing God’s name while reading written texts. Overall, as this passage implies, divine codenames enabled the proper culturally defined performance of the divine name. I should briefly address two exceptional examples found in Greek translations. First, in 4QpapLXXLevb (4Q120)—a scroll containing a Greek translation of Leviticus—the Tetragrammaton is transliterated as ΙΑΩ. Although this MS is written in scriptio continua, large vacats before and after ΙΑΩ alert the reader not to pronounce God’s name on accident. Second, a Greek scroll of the Minor Prophets discovered near Naḥal Ḥever (8Ḥev XIIgr) contains twentyeight examples of the Tetragrammaton in paleo-Hebrew script. As pointed out by Robert J. Wilkinson, “This distinctive script and the retention of the original language … mark off the Tetragrammaton as being of a special sanctity—it may also be a warning to the reader not to attempt to read (i.e., say aloud) the word, but this cannot be said for certain.”65 Similar to the use of paleo-Hebrew letters for the Tetragrammaton in Hebrew scrolls, archaic scripts in Greek translations functioned as a special code to invoke proper oral performance.

63  Tov, Scribal Practices, 218. 64  Wise, Abegg, and Cook, The Dead Sea Scrolls, 126; emphasis added. 65  Robert J. Wilkinson, Tetragrammaton: Western Christians and the Hebrew Name of God: From the Beginnings to the Seventeenth Century, SHCT 179 (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 56.

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4 Conclusion I have examined several scribal practices reflected in the Dead Sea Scrolls that reveal the oral-written register of language. In particular, the special arrangements of Exodus 15 and Deuteronomy 32 provide a fertile terrain for examining interface between speech and writing. When compared with prescribed layouts in later textual traditions, the special arrangements of these poetic passages in the Scrolls indicate that scribes acknowledged their readership’s experience with the graphical format of texts. Some special layouts are incipient versions of prescribed layouts in both Samaritan and Masoretic traditions. But special layouts also indicate that scribes acknowledged their readership’s experience with oral performance. The spacing of special arrangements consistently divides the text into sense units according to parallelism. Overall, special layouts evidence the oral-written textuality of scribal practices: oral, because the increased spatialization facilitates performance; written, because the graphical format realizes a traditional inscribed form of the text. Unlike the spacing of poetic books in the Masoretic Text, which was often dictated more by aesthetics than poetics, spacing techniques in the Dead Sea Scrolls were designed to represent how texts were spoken and heard. Similar to the cantillation marks of the Masoretic text, spacing graphically represents oral performance. On the one hand, spacing techniques isolate speech acts (blessings, curses, oaths) and linguistic forms (proverbs, beatitudes) so that dense passages can be fluently read. On the other hand, spacing techniques cue specific ways of reading texts. Spacing functions to alert readers of proper performance and correct interpretation. All in all, spacing techniques—similar to stichography—demonstrate that scribes incorporated their understanding of performance into written copies. The scribal practices of markings, cryptic scripts, and divine codenames are special codes that signaled or reflected aspects of oral performance. In Bauman’s terminology, these codes are “keys to performance,” as they both identify and invoke performance. The scribal mark “X,” for example, represents a reading cue designed to prevent a mistaken pause during oral performance. Cryptic scripts functioned to encrypt a composition for the eyes of the Maskil and invoke the Maskil’s performance role. Also, some compositions contain cryptic signs, which could have signaled some aspect of the Maskil’s oral performance of a text. Last, divine names were written in a special way in many of the Dead Sea Scrolls in order to invoke the proper performance of God’s name. These divine codenames signaled the reader not to pronounce the divine name while reading lest he or she suffer a strict punishment.

chapter 5

Cultural Memory “In order to be yourself,” according to the renowned brain expert Joseph LeDoux, “you have to remember who you are.”1 This ostensibly mundane observation comes from LeDoux’s study entitled Synaptic Self, a fascinating account of how synapses—the synaptic transmission between neurons in the brain—create and maintain both our identity and our personality. Contrary to what a non-specialist might fallaciously expect from a neuroscientist, LeDoux does not position his theory of a synaptic self as an alternative to social or philosophical views of personal identity.2 He is not interested in rehashing the age-old nature versus nurture debate. “What’s interesting,” in his estimation, “is not that nature and nurture both contribute to who we are, but that they actually speak the same language.”3 In other words, as LeDoux subsequently clairifies, “they are simply two different ways of making deposits in the brain’s synaptic ledgers.”4 By way of nature, our identity is in part determined by “genetic forces, operating on the synaptic arrangement of the brain.”5 By way of nurture, our identity is in part learned through experience and crafted by memory, which is made accessible to us through synaptic transmission in the brain.6 In the end, our identities—our notions of “self”—are the products of both nature and nurture speaking the common tongue of synapses. Overall, LeDoux’s study challenges us to rethink the way we think about ourselves. What’s most interesting to me, however, is LeDoux’s notion of selfidentity. On the one hand, the self is constituted by the “explicit memory,” that is, the conscious recollection of facts, experiences, feelings, etc. These are the types of memories that LeDoux probably has in mind when he says that “[i]n order to be yourself, you have to remember who you are.”7 This self, according to LeDoux, consists of two aspects: the “minimum self” (the immediate consciousness of one’s self and) and the “narrative self”: (the stories that we tell

1  Joseph LeDoux, Synaptic Self: How Our Brains Become Who We Are (New York: Penguin, 2002), 133. 2  LeDoux, Synaptic Self, 3. 3  LeDoux, Synaptic Self, 3. 4  LeDoux, Synaptic Self, 5. 5  LeDoux, Synaptic Self, 4. 6  LeDoux, Synaptic Self, 9. 7  LeDoux, Synaptic Self, 133.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | doi:10.1163/9789004408203_007

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ourselves).8 On the other hand, the self is constituted by “implicit memory,” because brain systems also acquire and store information that affects thoughts and behaviors without conscious awareness.9 Thus, according to LeDoux’s seemingly paradoxical argument, sometimes we do not have to remember who we are to be ourselves (at least, according to a pre-critical understanding of “remember”). Because in the end, as LeDoux reminds us, memory includes “more than just what we can consciously recall.”10 I find LeDoux’s fusion of the psychological, neurological, and philosophical self fascinating and persuasive. More importantly for my present interests, LeDoux’s views of the “synaptic self” sheds light on cultural memory in the Dead Sea Scrolls.11 In addition to being oral, written, and oral-written mediums, the Dead Sea Scrolls were also mediums for memory—that is, the means by which memory was stored, constructed, and communicated.12 In the next two chapters, I consider the Dead Sea Scrolls as medium for memory, both cultural (Chapter 5) and scribal (Chapter 6). The concept of cultural memory was developed by Jan Assmann’s research. Similar to LeDoux, Jan Assmann argues that memory plays a central role in the process of identity formation. In addition, like LeDoux’s theory of the synaptic self, Assmann’s theory of “cultural memory” integrates culture into neurology.13According to 8  LeDoux, Synaptic Self, 28. For further discussion of both the minimum and the narrative self, see Shaun Gallagher, “Philosophical Conceptions of the Self: Implications for Cognitive Science,” TCSc 4 (2000): 14–21; Ulric Neisser, “Self-Narratives: True and False,” in The Remembering Self: Construction and Accuracy in the Self-Narrative, ed. Ulric Neisser and Robyn Fivush, ESC 6 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 1–18. 9  LeDoux, Synaptic Self, 28–31. For more on this implicit memory, see Daniel L. Schacter, “Implicit Memory: History and Current Status,” JEP 13 (1987): 501–18. Implicit aspects of the self should not be confused with the Freudian notion of the “subconscious” (LeDoux, Synaptic Self, 28). 10  LeDoux, Synaptic Self, 133. 11  To my knowledge, only a few scholars have incorporated cultural memory into their work on the Scrolls. See George J. Brooke, Reading the Dead Sea Scrolls: Essays in Method, EJL 39 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2013), 51–66; Benjamin G. Wold, “Memory in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Exodus, Creation and Cosmos,” in Memory in the Bible and Antiquity: The Fifth Durham-Tübingen Research Symposium, ed. Stephen C. Barton, Loren Stuckenbruck, and Benjamin G. Wold, WUNT 212 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 47–74. 12  Or, in the words of Jaffee and Kelber, scrolls in ancient Judaism functioned as “storage systems” (Jaffee) or “memory devices” (Kelber). See Werner H. Kelber, Imprints, Voiceprints, and Footprints of Memory: Collected Essays of Werner H. Kelber, RBS 74 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2013), 314; Martin S. Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth: Writing and Oral Tradition in Palestinian Judaism, 200 BCE–400 CE (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 17. 13  Jan Assmann, “Form as a Mnemonic Device: Cultural Texts and Cultural Memory,” in Performing the Gospel: Orality, Memory, and Mark, ed. Richard A. Horsley, Jonathan A. Draper, and John Miles Foley (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2006), 67–83, esp. 68.

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both Assmann and LeDoux, to use a modern analogy, neurology provides the “hardware” of memory, but experience and culture provides its “software.”14 In a nutshell, cultural memory is that part of an individual’s memory that is “socially and culturally determined.”15 In Assmann’s words, memory’s “contents and the use we make of it are determined by our intercourse with others, by language, action, communication, and by our emotional ties to the configurations of our social existence.”16 Similar to LeDoux, Assmann underscores the important role that texts (in the broader linguistic sense of the term) play in the processes of identity formation. For LeDoux, the self is partly created and maintained by the explicit memories of the stories we tell ourselves, the narrative self. Similarly, according to Jan Assmann, cultural memory is transmitted through cultural texts, a term coined by Clifford Geertz.17 For Geertz, a cultural text is “a story that they [i.e., the Balinese people] tell themselves about themselves.”18 In a similar vein, according to Assmann’s definition, a “cultural text” is an oral or written text that is “constantly taken up and reproduced” on account of its “special normative and formative authority” for a society.19 Cultural texts therefore have both normative and formative functions within societies. Normative cultural texts “codify the norms of behavior,” whereas formative cultural texts “formulate the self-image of the group” and “transmit identity-confirming knowledge by narrating stories that are shared.”20 In order to explore the Dead Sea Scrolls as a medium for cultural memory, I will scrutinize how an anthology of thanksgiving hymns, the Hodayot, was 14  This analogy is especially appropriate because, as some cognitive psychologists have already observed, the way that brain systems solve problems and store data is not unlike the operations performed by computers. See Howard Gardner, The Mind’s New Science: A History of the Cognitive Revolution (New York: Basic Books, 1987), 6, 10–16. 15  Jan Assmann, Religion and Cultural Memory: Ten Studies, trans. Rodney Livingstone (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2006), 8. 16  Assmann, Religion and Cultural Memory, 1. 17  Clifford Geertz, “Deep Play: Notes on the Balinese Cockfight,” Daedalus 134 (2005): 56–86, esp. 82–86. 18  Geertz, “Deep Play,” 82. For both Geertz and Assmann, these texts need not be literary. In the words of Geeertz, a text could be any “symbolic form” or “collectively sustained symbolic structure,” including societal customs and rites such as a Balinese cockfight (“Deep Play,” 83). 19  Assmann, “Form as a Mnemonic Device,” 76; idem, Religion and Cultural Memory, 104. 20  Assmann, “Form as a Mnemonic Device,” 76; idem, Religion and Cultural Memory, 38. Concerning the Dead Sea Scrolls, legal regulations and penal codes in the Community Rule (e.g., 1QS 5:1–7:25; cf. also CD 9–18) functioned as normative cultural texts, whereas narratives of the sect’s origin in the Damascus Document (e.g., CD 1–8) served as formative cultural texts.

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experienced through oral performance and used for identity formation. I begin with a survey of evidence that establishes communal oral performance as a probable sociolinguistic setting for the Hodayot. My subsequent performance criticism focuses on the impact of the Hodayot as a form of oral discourse. The Hodayot embodied the sectarian movement’s cultural memory, and the manner in which the Hodayot’s hymns represent “self” enables the speaker to imagine, or “re-member,” oneself through oral performance. More specifically, the membership’s oral performance of the Hodayot functioned to produce collective identity, transform personal identity, and socialize members through narration of shared stories, whereas leadership utilized oral performance (1) to self-identify with the pedagogical leadership and special knowledge of the Maskil’s performance role and (2) to appropriate the institutional authority of his office. Finally, I explain how the authors of the Hodayot drew on the sectarian movement’s cultural memory to associate the Maskil’s office with founding figures of the sect. Through performance of the Hodayot, any Maskil could co-opt two distinctive features of the sect’s cultural memory of its founder(s): (1) oral-written performance and (2) “a ready answer.” 1

Performance Criticism

According to the authors of the Hodayot, God creates and predetermines all verbal communication.21 Human speech, as Judith H. Newman observes, depends upon a divinely endowed spirit.22 More importantly, according to the rhetoric of the Hodayot, public praise is the ultimate purpose of all speech: You yourself created breath for the tongue. You know its words, and you determine the fruit of the lips before they exist. You set the words according to the measuring line (‫)קו‬, and the utterance of the breath of the lips by measure. And you bring forth the lines (‫ )קוים‬according to their mysteries and the utterances of the breath according to their calculus, in 21  According to William M. Schniedewind, 1QHa 9:29–33 reveals that the community’s language “is just one of the many things determined by God at creation” (“Linguistic Ideology in Qumran Hebrew,” in Diggers at the Well: Proceedings of a Third Symposium on the Hebrew of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Ben Sira, ed. T. Muraoka and J. F. Elwolde, STDJ 36 [Leiden: Brill, 2000], 245–55, esp. 24). 22  Judith H. Newman, “The Thanksgiving Hymns of 1QHa and the Construction of the Ideal Sage through Liturgical Performance,” in Sibyls, Scriptures, and Scrolls: John Collins at Seventy, ed. Joel Baden, Hindy Najman, and Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar, JSJSup 175 (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 940–57, esp. 952.

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order to make known your glory and to recount your wonders in all your faithful deeds and your righteous j[ud]gm[ents], and to praise your name with the mouth of all who know you. (1QHa 9:29–33)23 As Newman correctly observes, “God is understood to have created breath/ spirit for the tongue in order to recount divine actions and praise God.”24 In the words of the Hodayot’s authors, the purposes of all speech are to “make known” (‫)להודיע‬, “recount” (‫)ולספר‬, and “praise with the mouth” (‫—)ולהלל שמכה בפה‬all forms of oral performance. In a similar vein, the authors of the Hodayot elsewhere describe how God opens the Maskil’s mouth in order to (1) “proclaim the good news” (‫ )לבשר‬and (2) “recount” (‫ )לספר‬God’s goodness (1QHa 23:11– 15). Because the Hodayot’s authors portray oral performance as the telos of all speech, performance criticism is particularly relevant to the Hodayot. Although an underutilized methodology in Scrolls scholarship, performance criticism is valuable, as it illuminates the dynamic interaction between author, performer, and audience.25 Performance criticism focuses on the meaning of “text” as a form of oral discourse by treating texts as spoken words (speech) that appear in oral performance (reading). In addition to the contextdependent sense of literary texts, the Dead Sea Scrolls also contain meaning as oral discourse—that is, meaning in the situation of speech. Viewed in their sociolinguistic context, the Dead Sea Scrolls were dynamic discourses that represented spoken words (speech) heard in shifting contexts of oral performance (reading). Whether by reciting from memory or by reading from a text, oral performance is the reading, recitation, or enactment of a text before an audience.26 Throughout this chapter, I focus on the third aspect of this definition: enactment. In the context of oral performance, enactment refers to the process of “acting out” performance roles or “recreating” experiences described in a text. More specifically, my performance criticism below elucidates the impact of the Hodayot’s oral performance for both community members and a community leader, the Maskil. I argue that members created their identity as 23  Unless otherwise stated, all transcriptions and translations of the Hodayot are from Eileen M. Schuller and Carol A. Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms): A Study Edition of 1QHa, EJL 36 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2012). 24  Newman, “Construction of the Ideal Sage,” 952–53. 25  For a brief explanation of performance criticism, see Robert D. Miller, “The Performance of Oral Tradition in Ancient Israel,” in Contextualizing Israel’s Sacred Writings: Ancient Literacy, Orality, and Literary Production, ed. Brian B. Schmidt, SBLAIL 22 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2015), 175–96, esp. 183. For a detailed explanation, see Marvin Lloyd Miller, Performances of Ancient Jewish Letters: From Elephantine to MMT, JAJSup 20 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015), 19–34. 26  Rafael Rodríguez, Oral Tradition and the New Testament (London: Bloomsbury, 2014), 27.

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model sectarians and that a qualified leader appropriated the Maskil’s leadership office through oral performance. 2

Sociolinguistic Context of the Hodayot

The Hodayot exhibit a literary affinity with thanksgiving psalms in the Hebrew Bible and were used for a similar purpose—namely, public worship. During the initial phase of the Hodayot’s publication, multiple theories emerged proposing various liturgical uses within the community: nightly study sessions,27 initiation and covenant ceremonies,28 and community meals.29 But a significant number of scholars have subsequently questioned a liturgical setting because of the Hodayot’s incongruence with liturgical works. According Eileen M. Schuller, for example, the various collections of prayers in the Dead Sea Scrolls “all share certain features that point to a public and communal Sitz im Leben, that is, to liturgical usage.”30 And these signposts of liturgical usage, such as prayer formulated in the first-person plural, are scant in the Hodayot. Moreover, according to some scholars, the literary style of the Hodayot is incompatible with liturgical usage. The Hodayot’s overloaded poetic style in comparison to the Psalms (e.g., irregular “meter” and collapse of psalmic forms), abundant “I” language, and concrete references to personal experiences are unsuitable for

27  M. Delcor, “Qumran. Les Hymnes,” DBSup 51:861–904, esp. 897–900. 28  Svend Holm-Nielsen, Hodayot: Psalms from Qumran, ATDan 2 (Aarhus: Universitetsforlaget, 1960), 344–45. 29  B. Reicke, “Remarques sur l’histoire de la forme (Formgeschichte) des textes de Qumran,” in Les manuscrits de la Mer Morte. Colloque de Strasbourg, 25–27 mai 1955, ed. J. Daniélou (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1957), 37–44, esp. 41–44. 30  Eileen M. Schuller, “Some Reflections on the Function and Use of Poetical Texts among the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Liturgical Perspectives: Prayer and Poetry in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Proceedings of the Fifth International Symposium of the Orion Center for the Study of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Associated Literature, 19–23 January, 2000, ed. Esther G. Chazon, Ruth A. Clements, and Avital Pinnick, STDJ 48 (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 173–89, esp. 174. According to Schuller, “Scholars have come to general agreement on criteria for recognizing liturgical texts: the individual prayers are relatively short; they contain set formulae, particularly at the opening and conclusion; they employ rubrics or titles specifying when the prayers are to be recited, and sometimes by whom; they utilize a dialogical element implying two or more voices; they are formulated in the first-person plural; their content is communal and/or cosmological (not individualistic and specific)” (“Function and Use of Poetical Texts,” 174).

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liturgical use.31 In light of this trend, I should establish the plausibility of the Hodayot’s public oral performance before I discuss its impact. First and foremost, some form-critical arguments against the Hodayot’s liturgical usage assume that public prayers must contain a balanced prosody and elementary style. For example, Bilhah Nitzan asserts that “poetry recited by the public must have simple rhythm and be easily recited.”32 Ethnopoetic studies on oral poetry from around the world significantly problematize this assumption.33 Moreover, these form-critical arguments pertain to a specific definition of liturgical usage, not to oral performance. According to Nitzan, for example, the Hodayot were not part of a service to God with a fixed order or pattern.34 But even if the Hodayot were not performed according to an established pattern or a liturgical cycle, this does not preclude their oral performance in communal worship.35 As Trine Bjørnung Hasselbalch correctly notes, a particular view of prayer’s historical development underlies Nitzan’s argument.36 According to Hasselbalch, Nitzan’s argument “rests on the unjustified assumption that only prayers conducted in accordance with a recogniz31  Bilhah Nitzan, Qumran Prayer and Religious Poetry, trans. Jonathan Chipman, STDJ 12 (Leiden: Brill, 1994), 321–55; Hans Bardtke, “Considérations sur les cantiques de Qumrân,” RB 63 (1956): 220–33, esp. 227–29. Hans Bardtke considered the form of the Hodayot’s poetry to be a mixture of different biblical psalm genres (“Considérations,” 223–26). 32  Nitzan, Qumran Prayer and Religious Poetry, 348. The poetry of the Hodayot, according to Nitzan, is “clumsy” and “burdened with theoretical statements which weigh upon the flow of the poetry” (Qumran Prayer and Religious Poetry, 345). As I have argued elsewhere, I do not agree with her (and others’) pejorative assessments of the Hodayot’s poetry (Shem Miller, “Innovation and Convention: An Analysis of Parallelism in Stichographic, Hymnic and Sapiential Poetry in the Dead Sea Scrolls” [Ph.D. diss., Florida State University, 2012], 181–83, 242–50, 399–401). On the contrary, the clear delimitation of poetic structure (i.e., cola, lines, and strophes) and the prevalence of certain poetic devices (e.g., lists, keywords, repetition, and formulaic language) reflect a literary style amenable to oral performance. 33  Ruth Finnegan, The Oral and Beyond: Doing Things with Words in Africa (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007), 77–95; Dell Hymes, Now I Know Only So Far: Essays in Ethnopoetics (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2003), 370–79; Paul Zumthor, Oral Poetry: An Introduction, trans. Kathryn Murphy-Judy, THL 70 (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1990), 97–113. 34  Nitzan, Qumran Prayer and Religious Poetry, 321. 35  Indeed, as Svend Holm-Nielsen argued more than fifty years ago, the Hodayot “may have been used anywhere in the service, without there being an established order and without their being linked to special holy occasions” (Psalms from Qumran, 348). 36  As Hasselbalch has correctly emphasized, Nitzan’s argument presupposes that prayer developed from “free, often individual usage evidenced in the Bible into fixed, institutionalized prayer reflected in the Scrolls” (Trine Bjørnung Hasselbalch, Meaning and Context in the Thanksgiving Hymns: Linguistic and Rhetorical Perspectives on a Collection of Prayers from Qumran, EJL 42 [Atlanta: SBL Press, 2015], 19). For Nitzan’s explanation of this development, see Qumran Prayer and Religious Poetry, 37–41.

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able, fixed pattern could be part of social life” in the sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls.37 Other arguments against liturgical use of some hymns are founded upon a form-critical bifurcation of the Hodayot. Past scholarship divided the Hodayot’s anthology into two classes of hymns with divergent literary styles and social contexts.38 The so-called Teacher Hymns comprise the middle of the Cave 1 Hodayot manuscript (1QHa 9:1–19:5) and begin with “I thank you, O Lord” (‫)אודכה אדוני‬. The founder of the Community, the Teacher of Righteousness, authored these hymns, and they describe the Teacher’s experiences of suffering and redemption. These hymns employ “I” language and fit best in a private, devotional context. The so-called Community Hymns comprise the beginning and end of the Cave 1 Hodayot manuscript (1QHa 1:1–8:41, 19:6–28:[41]) and begin with the incipit “Blessed are you, O Lord” (‫)ברוך אתה‬, amongst others.39 They employ “we” language, are less personal, and deal with more general concerns such as “divine salvific action and the human condition.”40 They best suit a context of public worship. At least four of these hymns are prescribed “for the Maskil”—an authoritative teacher and liturgical master in the sectarian movement (1QHa 5:12 [hodayah 5:12–6:33], 7:21 [hodayah 7:21–8:41], 20:7 [hodayah 20:7–22:42], 25:34 [hodayah 25:34–27:3]).41 37  Hasselbalch, Meaning and Context, 18. 38  For helpful overviews of early scholarship on the division of Teacher and Community Hymns, see Hasselbalch, Meaning and Context, 2–12; Angela Kim Harkins, Reading with an “I” to the Heavens: Looking at the Qumran Hodayot through the Lens of Visionary Traditions, Ekstasis 3 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2012), 17–24; Eileen M. Schuller, “Recent Scholarship on the Hodayot 1993–2010,” CBR 10 (2011): 119–62, esp. 119–20, 133–46. 39  For a description of the incipits, see Hartmut Stegemann, “The Number of Psalms in 1QHodayota and Some of Their Sections,” in Liturgical Perspectives: Prayer and Poetry in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Proceedings of the Fifth International Symposium of the Orion Center for the Study of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Associated Literature, 19–23 January, 2000, ed. Esther G. Chazon, Ruth A. Clements, and Avital Pinnick, STDJ 48 (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 191–234, esp. 220–22. I should note, however, that inconsistency complicates this form-critical basis of division. In fact, the formula ‫ ברוך אתה‬occurs only thrice in the entire composition (cf. 1QHa 7:21, 13:22, 17:38). Moreover, 1QHa 13:22 actually contains both formulas: the initial scribe wrote ‫אודכה אדוני‬, and a subsequent scribe replaces this incipit with ‫ברוך אתה‬. Last, ‫ אודכה אדוני‬only occurs twice in the incipits of the so-called Community Hymns (cf. ‫ [אוד]ך אדוני‬in 1QHa 6:34 and ‫ אודכה אלי‬in 1QHa 19:6). 40  Eileen M. Schuller, “Prayer, Hymnic, and Liturgical Texts from Qumran,” in The Community of the Renewed Covenant: The Notre Dame Symposium on the Dead Sea Scrolls, ed. Eugene Ulrich and James C. VanderKam, CJAn 10 (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1994), 153–71, esp. 154. 41  My division of individual thanksgiving psalms follows Hartmut Stegemann (“The Number of Psalms in 1QHodayota,” 228–29).

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Although this theory has remained popular since it was proposed over fifty years ago, interdisciplinary studies during the past two decades have undermined its credence. For our purposes, three relevant counterarguments emerge. First, Trine Bjørnung Hasselbalch’s and Carol A. Newsom’s work blurs the line between “I” and “we” language by demonstrating that both types of speaker (leader and member) occur in each supposed class of hymns.42 Put bluntly, as Hasselbalch argues, the hybridity of several compositions undercuts a tidy dichotomy of social groups and settings.43 Second, Angela Kim Harkins undercuts the form-critical basis of the so-called Teacher Hymns. In particular, she dismantles the spurious, modern assumptions about authorship used to establish the literary unity of the Teacher Hymns.44 Third, Kim Harkins and Newsom have convincingly argued that the “I” of the Teacher Hymns does not necessarily describe a single, historical person. Rather than autobiographical poetry of a founding figure, according to Newsom, the Hodayot are a “collection of models for oral performance.”45 Moreover, these models articulate (1) a leadership myth and (2) an ideal sectarian that could be appropriated for the purposes of identity formation. On account of these three counterarguments, I employ a reading strategy throughout this chapter that leaves aside the prevailing scholarly theory about the form-critical bifurcation of the Hodayot, particularly as it differentiates between individual praise (Teacher Hymns) and communal worship (Community Hymns). 2.1 Public Praise and Worship Whether the entire anthology was sung or recited on specific occasions as part of a liturgical service, I will not argue. But the angelic liturgy offers 42  Hasselbalch, Meaning and Context, 26–34; Carol A. Newsom, The Self as Symbolic Space: Constructing Identity and Community at Qumran, STDJ 52 (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 6–12, 287– 300, 325–27. Additionally, varying grammatical person blurs the line between supposed hymn types. For example, the discourse in hodayah 11:20–37 changes person three times (cf. 1QHa 11:20–24). 43  Hybrid hymns, according to Hasselbalch, exhibit literary features of both hymn classes (Meaning and Context, 34–37). In her words, both classes often evoke “one and the same type of worshiper: someone seeing himself as belonging to the elite and taking some sort of leadership responsibility upon himself” (Meaning and Context, 17). 44  Angela Kim Harkins, “Who is the Teacher of the Teacher Hymns? Re-Examining the Teacher Hymns Hypothesis Fifty Years Later,” in A Teacher for All Generations: Essays in Honor of James C. VanderKam, ed. Eric F. Mason et al., 2 vols., JSJSup 153 (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 1:449–67. 45  According to Newsom, “The Hodayot may not have been simply a textual corpus for reading and reciting, but perhaps a collection of models for oral performance” (Self as Symbolic Space, 203).

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strong evidence that, at the very least, some of the Hodayot’s hymns were used in public praise and worship (for more on the angelic liturgy, see below). Additionally, internal clues ensconce several hymns within a liturgical setting. One incipit explicitly indicates a liturgical context: “[For the Instruc]tor, [th]anksgiving and prayer for prostrating oneself and supplicating continually at all times” (1QHa 20:7 [hodayah 20:7–22:42]); moreover, introductory rubrics associate two hymns with daily times of prayer (cf. 1QHa 5:12–14 [hodayah 5:12– 6:33] and 1QHa 20:7–12 [hodayah 20:7–22:42]).46 A list of plural imperatives in 1QHa 9:36–39 (hodayah [9:?]–10:4) is also remarkably apposite to public oral performance.47 The references to singing, music, and worship endow the Hodayot with a tenor of liturgical worship.48 Although some descriptions of musical performance are metaphorical, most portrayals of singing depict vocal performance of praise.49 For example, 1QHa 19:6–29 (hodayah 19:6–20:6) portrays actual singing. Shortly after the beginning of this hymn, the speaker proclaims, “You have put thanksgiving into my mouth, pr[ai]se upon my tongue, and (made) the utterance of my lips as the foundation for jubilation, so that I might sing of your kindness and reflect on your strength all the day” (1QHa 19:7–9).50 Nothing in this passage connotes a metaphorical reading; moreover, multiple parallelisms between “thanksgiving” and “mouth” connote literal singing.51 46  Daniel K. Falk, Daily, Sabbath, and Festival Prayers in the Dead Sea Scrolls, STDJ 27 (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 100–103. 47  In this list, the speaker begins with a command to hear, indicating an aural context of instruction, and then offers exhortation to five varieties of people: those who are eager, straight, righteous, perfect, and afflicted. Concerning the use of imperative calls to praise, first-person plural, and possible temporal expressions indicating prayer times in Cave 4 copies of the Hodayot, see Schuller, “Function and Use of Poetical Texts,” 179. 48  For a discussion of the various possible settings of singing, see Daniel K. Falk, “The Contribution of the Qumran Scrolls to the Study of Ancient Jewish Liturgy,” in The Oxford Handbook of the Dead Sea Scrolls, ed. Timothy H. Lim and John J. Collins (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), 617–51, esp. 633–34. 49  For a discussion of metaphorical descriptions of singing and music, see Schuller, “Function and Use of Poetical Texts,” 180–83. In 1QHa 19:6–29, for example, a metaphorical description reads, “I will sing upon the lyre of salvation, and the harp of jo[y, and the timbrel of rejoi]cing, and the flute of praise, without ceasing” (1QHa 19:26–27). The use of standard biblical instruments combined with poetic phrasing (e.g., “sing upon the lyre,” “harp of joy,” and “flute of praise”) promotes a metaphorical interpretation. 50  Schuller and Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms), 59. 51  The parallelism between “I thank you, God” (‫ )אודכה אלי‬in the incipit and “you have put thanksgiving into my mouth, pr[ai]se upon my tongue” (‫)ותתן בפי הודות ובלשוני ת[ה]לה‬ in the ensuing line is unmistakable; furthermore, this bicolon line forms an inclusio with “and you have put into the mouth of your servant hymns of pr[a]is[e]” (‫ותשם בפי עבדכה‬ ]‫ ;הודות ת[ה]ל[ה‬1QHa 19:6–7, 36).

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More importantly, some portrayals of singing refer to common rejoicing, which conveys a context of communal praise and worship. For example, according to 1QHa 19:28–29 (hodayah 19:6–20:6), members will “proclaim together with a joyous voice” (‫)ישמיעו יחד בקול רנה‬.52 Similarly, 1QHa 11:24 (hodayah 11:20–37) states, “that he might praise your name in a common rejoicing” (‫)להלל שמכה ביחד רנה‬.53 In other instances, the authors of the Hodayot use first-person plural to express community praise. In hodayah 7:12–20, for instance, the speaker contrasts the community and its opponents with insider/ outsider rhetoric.54 “They” are unable to recite, sing with a voice, or praise the wondrous acts of God because “they” do not have insight, but “we” are able to praise God though oral performance because “we” possess proper knowledge. Through the rhetorical use of grammatical person, the speaker underscores that singing, recitation, and praise are communal: we reply, we instruct, and we recount God’s deeds.55 A social setting of communal oral performance is suggested also by multiple passages in the Hodayot describing an “angelic liturgy”—namely, liturgical worship in which members joined angels in one choir of praise.56 At the very least, these passages offer strong evidence that the ancient sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls sang or recited some of the Hodayot’s hymns on specific occasions as part of a liturgical service. In this passage from the “self-glorification hymn,” for example, the Maskil calls the community to praise God together with the eternal host:

52  Schuller and Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms), 61. 53  Schuller and Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms), 37. Cf. also “rejoice in common assembly” (‫ )השתחוו ביחד קהל‬in 1QHa 26:13–14. For other examples of common rejoicing, see 1QHa 2:14, 8:15, 9:32–33. 54  E.g., “gave us insight” (‫)השכלתנו‬, “what shall we reply” (‫)מה נשיב‬, “you show us” (‫)גמלתנו‬, “and as for us” (‫)ואנחנו‬, “we are inst[ruc]ted” (‫)נ[וס]רה‬, “and we ex[ult] (]‫)ונר[ננה‬, and “we will recount (it) together” (‫)נספרה יחד‬. Concerning the use of us/them rhetoric in the Hodayot, see Newsom, Self as Symbolic Space, 303–8. 55  Cf. also “yo[u yourself have revealed] in our hearing” in 1QHa 6:13, which suggests a communal context. 56  For a description of the angelic liturgy, see Esther G. Chazon, “Human and Angelic Prayer in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Liturgical Perspectives: Prayer and Poetry in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Proceedings of the Fifth International Symposium of the Orion Center for the Study of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Associated Literature, 19–23 January, 2000, ed. Esther G. Chazon, Ruth A. Clements, and Avital Pinnick, STDJ 48 (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 35–47; Devorah Dimant, “Men as Angels: The Self-Image of the Qumran Community,” in Religion and Politics in the Ancient Near East, ed. Adele Berlin, STJHC 1 (Bethesda: University of Maryland, 1996), 93–103.

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[Sing praise, O beloved ones! Sing to the king of glory!] Rejoic[e in the congregation of God! Cry gladly in the tents of salvation! Give praise in the holy dwelling!] Exalt [together with the eternal host! Ascribe greatness to our God and glory to our king! Sanctify his] na[me with strong lips and a mighty tongue! Lift up your voices by themselves at all times!] Sound al[oud a joyful noise! Exult with eternal joy and without ceasing! Worship] in common [assembly!… Bless the one who wondrously does majestic deeds]. (1QHa 26:9–14//4QHa [4Q427] 7 i 12–18)57 The series of imperative calls to praise and second-person plural addresses situates this hymn in a social setting of liturgical performance.58 Moreover, this passage emphasizes the oral/aural features of performance. On the one hand, the speaker commands the audience to sanctify God’s name with “strong lips” (‫ )בשפתי עוז‬and with a “mighty tongue” (‫)ולשון נצח‬. On the other hand, the speaker adjures the congregation to lift up “their voices” (‫ )קולכם‬and sound aloud a “joyful noise” (‫)הגי רנה‬. The hiphil verbs “lift up” (‫ )הרימו‬and “sound aloud” (‫ )השמיעו‬stress the audible aspect of this praise—the participants should cause their voices to be heard. Last, this hymn concludes with a sequence of first-person plural verbs, which draw attention to the communal nature of this performance (cf. 1QHa 26:32–39).59 Although some of the liturgical signposts exhibited in the “self-glorification hymn” are exceptional, the even distribution of the angelic liturgy throughout the Hodayot indicates that this hymn is not idiosyncratic.60 The paucity of 57  Schuller and Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Hymns), 79. For the text of the Cave 4 copies of the Hodayot, which fills in the lacunae of this passage, see Esther G. Chazon et al., Qumran Cave 4.XX: Poetical and Liturgical Texts, Part 2, DJD 29 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1999). Scholarly treatment of the “self-glorification hymn” is too voluminous to recapitulate here. For a concise bibliography of studies, see Kim Harkins, Reading with an “I” to the Heavens, 12 n.29. 58  E.g., “sing” (‫ זמרו‬and ‫)שירו‬, “rejoice” (‫)שמחו‬, “cry gladly” (‫)הרנינו‬, “give praise” (‫)הללו‬, “exalt” (‫)רוממו‬, “ascribe greatness” (‫)הבו גדול‬, “sanctify” (‫)הקדישו‬, “lift up” (‫)הרימו‬, “sound aloud” (‫)השמיעו‬, “exult” (‫)הביעו‬, “worship” (‫)השתחוו‬, and “bless” (‫)ברכו‬. 59  E.g., “we know you” (‫)ידענוכה‬, “we understand your truth” (‫)והשכלנו באמתכה‬, “we see your zeal” (‫)ראינו קנאתכה‬, “we recognize your judgments” (‫)והכרנו משפטיכה‬, and “we speak to you” (‫)דברנו לכה‬. 60  As Esther G. Chazon has demonstrated, the angelic liturgy is evenly distributed throughout 1QHa. See Esther G. Chazon, “Liturgical Function in the Cave 1 Hodayot Collection,” in Qumran Cave 1 Revisited: Texts from Cave 1 Sixty Years after Their Discovery: Proceedings of the Sixth Meeting of the IOQS in Ljubljana, ed. Daniel K. Falk et al., STDJ 91 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 135–49. Concerning the view that the self-glorification hymn “cannot be taken as a key to [the liturgical character of] the Hodayot” on account of its “exceptional nature” visà-vis the entire anthology, see John J. Collins, “Amazing Grace: The Transformation of the

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imperative calls to praise and second-person plural addresses notwithstanding, the Hodayot is interspersed with descriptions of an “angelic liturgy” in which members join one another in public praise. For a more typical example of the “angelic liturgy,” I turn to 1QHa 11:20–24 (hodayah 11:20–37): I thank you, Lord, that you have redeemed my life from the pit and that from Sheol-Abaddon you lifted me up to an eternal height, so that I walk about on a limitless plain. I know that there is hope for one whom you have formed from the dust for an eternal council. And a perverted spirit you have purified from great sin that it might take its place with the host of the holy ones and enter into community with the congregation of the children of heaven. And you cast for a person an eternal lot with the spirits of knowledge, that he might praise your name in a common rejoicing and recount your wonderful acts before all your works. (1QHa 11:20–24)61 This passage portrays communal oral performance with an angelic choir: the speaker has been stationed “with the host of the holy ones” (‫)עם צבא קדושים‬, who come together with the “congregation of the children of heaven” (‫עדת בני‬ ‫ )שמים‬in order to praise God’s name “in a common rejoicing” (‫להלל שמכה ביחד‬ ‫)רנה‬. Overall, descriptions of the angelic liturgy distributed throughout the Hodayot foreground the integral role of communal praise and public worship. They highlight how performance in the form of “a priestly service before God with the angels” was a crucial component of each member’s oral performance.62 3

Cultural Memory of Membership

In Daniel L. Schacter’s superb study on false memory, he details the different ways in which memory fails us. These “seven sins of memory,” as Schacter creatively dubs them, are transience, absent-mindedness, blocking, Thanksgiving Hymn at Qumran,” in Psalms in Community: Jewish and Christian Textual, Liturgical, and Artistic Traditions, ed. Harold W. Attridge and Margot E. Fassler, SymS 25 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2003), 77–85, esp. 84–85. 61  Schuller and Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Hymns), 37. 62  Carol A. Newsom, Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice: A Critical Edition, HSS 27 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1985), 64. Because the sect believed praising God was a primary task of angels (Dimant, “Men as Angels,” 98–103), the “angelic liturgy” also calls attention to the presence of singing. As Schuller concludes, it is appropriate that “song and praise, particularly in poetic form, could be expected to play a crucial role in their worship” (Schuller, “Function and Use of Poetical Texts,” 189).

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misattribution, suggestibility, bias, and persistence.63 Schacter, the chair of the Department of Psychology at Harvard, is a world-renowned expert in neuropsychology and memory. But this book was written for the specialist and non-specialist alike, brimming with creative analogies, vivid stories, and experimental data that lucidly illustrate the points at hand. In his introduction to the sin of bias, for example, Schacter begins with a powerful quotation from George Orwell’s novel 1984, which describes how the Ministry of Truth in a future totalitarian government attempted to control the present and create the past by manipulating memory: Past events, it is argued, have no objective existence, but survive only in written records and in human memories. The past is whatever the written records and the memories agree upon … control of the past depends above all on the training of memory. To make sure that all written records agree with the orthodoxy of the moment is merely a mechanical act. But it also necessary to remember that events happened in the desired manner.64 In Orwell’s dystopian future world, the verbal rhetoric and written records of the Ministry of Truth controlled the “desired manner” in which events were remembered. From Schacter’s psychological perspective, this is in some sense analogous to the sins of bias that operate in our individual minds.65 The sin of bias, as Schacter explains, alters our memory of the past to fit with our present needs: “The sin of bias refers to distorting influences of our present knowledge, beliefs, and feelings on new experiences or our later memories of them.”66 More specifically, the sin of bias is fivefold: (1) consistency biases, (2) change biases, (3) hindsight biases, (4) egocentric biases, and (5) stereotypical biases.67 Most importantly for my interests, however, Schacter’s explanation 63  Daniel L. Schacter, The Seven Sins of Memory: How the Mind Forget and Remembers (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2001), 4. 64  Schacter, The Seven Sins of Memory, 138; emphasis original. For this passage in Orwell, see George Orwell, 1984 (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt: Boston, 2017), 203. 65  Schacter, The Seven Sins of Memory, 138. 66  Schacter, The Seven Sins of Memory, 138. 67  Schacter, The Seven Sins of Memory, 139. Consistency biases and change biases describe how people tend to reconstruct the past as “overly similar to, or different from, the present.” Hindsight biases are “memories of past events [that] are filtered by current knowledge.” Egocentric biases describe how our current notions of self-identity unconsciously orchestrate “perceptions and memories of reality.” Last, stereotypical biases describe how “generic memories shape our interpretation of the world.” The above definitions are from Schacter, The Seven Sins of Memory, 139.

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of the five major sins of bias elucidates the functions of cultural memory and cultural texts. As Schacter demonstrates, our minds tend to construct the past based on current knowledge—that is, “memories of past events are filtered by current knowledge.”68 Moreover, Schacter underscores the “powerful role of the self in orchestrating perceptions and memories of reality.”69 In a similar vein, according to the theory of cultural memory, memories of the past function both to create and to transform personal identity. But these cultural memories—like the sins of bias—need not have anything to do with the actual reality, either of ourselves or of our history. Like the rhetoric of Orwell’s Ministry of Truth, cultural texts function to shape the desired manner in which a society imagines its identity and remembers its history. To be clear, I do not intend to suggest that ancient Judaism was similar to Orwell’s dystopian future society. Rather, I wish to emphasize that identities and histories are created by memories. It is important to remember that our memory is itself created, and texts play an important role in this process. Put bluntly, (1) we are what we remember, (2) we are what we belong to, and (3) we remember what we are through cultural texts. These ideas are particularly relevant for ancient Judaism. At the center of Judean identity and tradition, as correctly pointed out by Michael Owen Wise, “was a book: essentially, their constructed history, constantly read and interpreted at every level of society.”70 The book Wise alludes to here is, of course, the Bible. But, as the vast corpus of literature discovered in the eleven caves above Qumran demonstrates, we cannot limit ourselves to the books that eventually came to comprise the Bible. Other texts, both written and oral, played important roles in constructing the memory, identity, and history of a variety of ancient Jewish groups. In this section, I focus on the significance of the Hodayot, an anthology of poetic thanksgiving hymns, for members in the sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls. In particular, I utilize the concept of “cultural memory” to illuminate how oral performance of the Hodayot could effectively produce collective identity, transform personal identity, and socialize members through narration of shared stories. 3.1 We Are What We Remember The Hodayot’s oral performance could effectively produce collective identity because all identities are imagined—that is, we are what we remember. 68  Schacter, The Seven Sins of Memory, 138. 69  Schacter, The Seven Sins of Memory, 138. 70  Michael Owen Wise, Language and Literacy in Roman Judaea: A Study of the Bar Kokhba Documents (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2015), 346; emphasis added.

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In Assmann’s words, “It is not ‘blood’ or ‘descent’ as such that keeps a group together but the shared consciousness of it, the idea of a common descent.”71 As an illustration, I turn to a brief analysis of one notable excerpt from the Teacher Hymns: For I remember my guilty acts together with the unfaithfulness of my ancestors, when the wicked rose against your covenant and the vile against your word. And I said, “In my sin I have been abandoned, far from your covenant.” But when I remembered the strength of your hand together with your abundant compassion, I stood strong and rose up, and my spirit held fast to (its) station in the face of affliction. For I am supported by your kindness, and according to your abundant compassion to me, you pardon my iniquity and thus clean[se] a person from guilt through your righteousness. (1QHa 12:35–38)72 This passage bears marked similarities with a confession of sins during the annual covenant renewal ceremony (CD 20:27–30; 1QS 1:24–26).73 According to the Damascus Document, this confession reads, “we have wickedly sinned, we and our ancestors by living contrary to the covenant laws; just and true are your judgments against us” (CD 20:28–29).74 The annual confession of sins evokes a common ancestry and appeals to a historical recollection of God’s judgment on Israel’s sin. What catches my attention, however, is that the Hodayot’s confession explicitly describes “remembering” this common descent twice: “For I remember my guilty acts together with the unfaithfulness of my ancestors” and “I remembered the strength of your hand together with your abundant compassion.” In the proper arena, any ordinary member could recite this confession to reimagine their identity—“re-member” themselves anew—by appropriating the sectarian movement’s common descent. Throughout the rest of the Hodayot, however, memory is symbolically portrayed in terms of oral performance. According to the rhetoric of the Hodayot, we are what we remember, and we remember what we are through oral performance. In other words, we “remember” our sectarian identity by “recounting”

71  Assmann, “Form as a Mnemonic Device,” 67. 72  Schuller and Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms), 41. 73  For discussion of this confession in the Community Rule and the Damascus Document, see Falk, Daily, Sabbath, and Festival Prayers, 217–30, esp. 220, 228. 74  Unless otherwise stated, all translations of the Community Rule and the Damascus Document are from Michael Owen Wise, Martin Abegg, and Edward Cook, The Dead Sea Scrolls: A New Translation (New York: HarperOne, 2005).

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or “reciting” God’s wonderful acts, judgment, and glory.75 In hodayah 11:20–37, for example, the speaker “remembers” God’s wonderful deeds by recounting: And a perverted spirit you have purified from great sin that it might take its place with the host of the holy ones and enter into community with the congregation of the children of heaven. And you cast for a person an eternal lot with the spirits of knowledge, that he might praise your name in a common rejoicing and recount your wonderful acts before all your works. (1QHa 11:22–24)76 In this passage, recounting God’s deeds—remembering—is defined as an act of communal, oral performance (cf. also 1QHa 7:13–19). Overall, the portrayal of memory as oral performance indicates that members could imagine their collective identity by recounting or reciting God’s acts in the Hodayot. 3.2 We Are What We Belong To The Hodayot’s oral performance could effectively transform personal identity because memory and identity are inextricably intertwined. In the words of Assmann, the slogans “we are what we remember” and “we are what we belong to” are “two sides of the same coin.”77 Confessions and professions throughout the Hodayot utilize both of these closely related ideas to transform personal identity. The above passage (1QHa 12:35–38), for instance, contains an oral confession of sins in the form of historical recollection. The speakers first remember their guilty acts together with the unfaithfulness of their ancestors (lines 35–36). But the purpose of remembering is to self-identify with the common descent of the community. In indirect speech, the speakers confess that their sin alienates them from God, just as their ancestors’ sin separated them from God’s covenant. The repeated use of the first-person in the initial four words of the confession, “but as for me, I said, ‘in my sin I have been abandoned’” (‫)ואני אמרתי בפשעי נעזבתי‬, foregrounds the transformation of selfunderstanding that is triggered by “remembering” the sect’s common descent (1QHa 12:36).78 Other passages in the Hodayot contain professions in which speaker selfidentification is explicitly indicated (e.g., 1QHa 8:28–30, 12:35–38). In the 75  For passages that describe “recounting” God’s past acts and wonders, see 1QHa 7:18; 9:32– 35; 11:24; 18:16, 22; 19:9, 27; 21:9; 26:35. For passages that describe “reciting” God’s past acts and wonders, see 1QHa 4:29, 7:14, 9:35, 14:14. 76  Schuller and Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms), 37. 77  Assmann, “Form as a Mnemonic Device,” 68. 78  This is my translation.

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passage below from the so-called Community Hymns, the speakers acknowledge their sinful state before God, choose to cleanse themselves, and entreat God to cleanse their sins: Because I know that you have recorded a spirit of righteousness, I myself have chosen to cleanse my hands according to your wil[l]. The soul of your servant abhors every malicious deed. I know that no one can be righteous apart from you, and so I entreat you with the spirit that you have placed in me that you make your kindness of your servant complete [for]ever, cleansing me by your holy spirit and drawing me nearer by your good favor. (1QHa 8:28–30)79 In the phrase “I myself have chosen” (‫)ואני בחרתי‬, the grammatically superfluous pronoun “I” foregrounds speaker self-identification. In another noteworthy passage (1QHa 7:22–25), the speakers affirm that they have loved God with their whole heart, swear to follow God’s commandments, and declare that they will stand firm until the final judgment. In a similar manner to 1QHa 8:28–30, speaker self-identification is explicitly indicated in 1QHa 7:22–25 by the phrase “and as for me.” The use of the independent personal pronoun “I” with the waw conjunction (‫)ואני‬, translated as “and as for me” or “but as for me,” is a vital aspect of the Hodayot’s rhetoric of identity transformation.80 In fact, the morphemic frequency of ‫ ואני‬is higher in the Hodayot than any other non-biblical scroll.81 This literary characteristic reflects the speaker’s stress on “self” that occurred during the Hodayot’s oral performance. Overt subject pronouns usually signal emphasis.82 Additionally, an overview of the semantic range of verbs used 79  Schuller and Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms), 29. 80  Interestingly, many subsections within individual hymns are demarcated by a small vacat before ‫ואני‬. See Hartmut Stegemann, Eileen M. Schuller, and Carol A. Newsom, Qumran Cave 1.III: 1QHodayota, with Incorporation of 4QHodayota–f and 1QHodayotb, DJD 40 (Oxford: Clarendon, 2009), 243. These vacats could graphically represent a linguistic or paralinguistic feature of oral performance that coincides with the speaker’s selfidentification with the Maskil’s mythos. 81  The Hodayot contains over 64% of all occurrences of ‫ ואני‬in non-biblical Dead Sea Scrolls. Concerning the morphemic frequency of personal pronouns in the Hodayot, see Miller, “Innovation and Convention,” 243–47. 82  This is especially true when paired with a waw conjunction. Concerning the emphatic use of independent pronouns in subject or object positions within finite verbal clauses, see Robert D. Holmstedt, “Pro-Drop,” EHLL 3:265–67; Jacobus A. Naudé, “The Distribution of Independent Personal Pronouns in Qumran Hebrew,” JNSL 27 (2001): 91–112; idem, “Qumran Hebrew as a Null Subject Language,” SAJL 9 (1991): 119–25.

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with ‫ ואני‬underscores its function to transform personal identity. The majority of occurrences come together with verbs of knowledge (“but as for me, I know …”) or contain dramatic descriptions of the self vis-à-vis God (“but as for me, I am …”).83 3.3 We Remember What We Are through Cultural Texts The Hodayot’s oral performance could effectively socialize members through narration of shared stories. For members in the sectarian movement, memory and identity were inextricably intertwined, and what they remembered was often constructed by cultural texts, such as the Hodayot. In the terminology of memory studies, the Hodayot are “formative cultural texts” for they “formulate the self-image of the group” and “transmit identity-confirming knowledge by narrating shared stories.”84 As expressed in the above passage (1QHa 12:35–38), socialization is enabled by a characteristic rhetorical device of formative cultural texts: instrumentalized past.85 The authors of the Hodayot fabricate a politicized and counterfactual memory; that is, what its readers remember has nothing to do with historical facts.86 Instead, the readers of this hymn remember Israel’s past in terms that validate sectarian interpretation and mythology: the covenant abandoned by their ancestors was maintained by a handful of faithful seers and visionaries. And God’s covenant continues to be followed by repentant members in the sect. Only within this “historical” context—namely, God’s righteous judgment on a wayward Israel and God’s compassionate forgiveness of a faithful remnant— do the speakers remember their own guilt. Through oral performance of this shared story, this confession socializes members with regard to acceptable views of God (i.e., theodicy) and mankind (i.e., judgment for outsiders and salvation for insiders).

83  Cf. 1QHa 5:35; 6:23, 28; 7:25, 35, 38; 9:23; 10:13; 11:24; 12:31; 13:24; 16:15; 18:7; 19:6, 10; 20:14, 27; 21:11; 22:8; 23:24. Other occurrences explicitly related to identity formation include: “but as for me, I choose …” (1QHa 6:36, 8:28), “but as for me, I hold fast to …” (1QHa 10:30, 12:23, 22:14), and “but as for me, I rely upon …” (1QHa 15:21, 22:12). 84  Assmann, “Form as a Mnemonic Device,” 76. 85  Assmann, Religion and Cultural Memory, 24. 86  In other words, the “I” of the Hodayot is not a report of a person’s specific experiences or of historical events in the communities. In the terminology of Kim Harkins, the “I” of the Hodayot is “imaginal”—that is, “I” is “constructed from popular experiences of well-known visionaries” (Reading with an “I” to the Heavens, 5). Moreover, the Hodayot’s rhetoric functions to transform the reader’s self-understanding by inviting him or her to identify with the experiences of this imaginal “I” (Reading with an “I” to the Heavens, 111–12).

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Performance Role of the Maskil

In Newsom’s innovative study of the Hodayot, she proposes that the “Hodayot of the leader,” as she calls them, “articulate a leadership myth that was appropriated by the current leader.”87 For Newsom, the Maskil is an authoritative position ascribed to multiple individuals rather than a unique, historical figure.88 The rhetoric of the Hodayot presents the Maskil as a leadership office with special responsibilities—an office that could be appropriated through performance. Newsom’s rhetorical criticism of the Hodayot resonates with performance criticism and memory studies. Memory studies stress how oral performance both reflects and creates social roles. More importantly, according to performance theory, each component of a performance (e.g., participants, performers, and audience) has a culturally defined performance role.89 Seen from this perspective, the authors of the Hodayot portray the Maskil as a leadership office with a particular “performance role.” “The rules for the Maskil” in the Community Rule (1QS 9:12–26a) indicate that oral performance is a key, requisite element of the Maskil’s leadership office.90 More importantly for my present topic, four hymns prescribed “for the Maskil” in the Hodayot highlight two crucial attributes of the Maskil’s performance role.91 First, the Maskil is a liturgical master who orchestrates public worship (1QHa 26:9–14, 26, 41). His performance is infused with blessings (1QHa 5:15, 7:21, 8:26, 21:18, 22:34–35, 26:31a), thanksgivings (1QHa 20:7), and psalms (1QHa 7:21). He leads liturgical prayer at specific times, daily and annually (1QHa 20:7–12). Second, the Maskil is an authoritative teacher who imparts his God-given knowledge to members through pedagogical praise (1QHa 5:13–14, 6:19–20). The Maskil is blessed with special knowledge of God’s word, commandments, and precepts (1QHa 8:23–25). Through the holy spirit placed in him (1QHa 5:36; 8:20, 24; 20:14–15; 21:34), God endows the Maskil with (1) esoteric knowledge concerning the true meaning of God’s acts (1QHa 5:19, 20:14–16) and (2) insight into the spiritual qualities of men (1QHa 6:19–22). He utilizes this knowledge to place people into their appropriate rank within

87  Newsom, Self as Symbolic Space, 288–89. 88  Newsom, Self as Symbolic Space, 291. 89  Richard Bauman, Verbal Art as Performance (Prospect Heights: Waveland Press, 1984), 16, 29–35. 90  Concerning the depiction of the Maskil’s performance in “the rules for the Maskil,” see Chapter 2. 91  Cf. 1QHa 5:12 (hodayah 5:12–6:33), 1QHa 7:21 (hodayah 7:21–8:41), 1QHa 20:7 (hodayah 20:7– 22:42), 1QHa 25:34 (hodayah 25:34–27:3).

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community hierarchy (1QHa 6:29–30) and utter a proper “answer of the tongue” (1QHa 8:24). Below I examine passages in both the Community Hymns and the Teacher Hymns that could be used to transform the speaker’s identity into the Maskil. In the proper social setting, any qualified leader could recite the Hodayot in order to self-identify with the pedagogical leadership and special knowledge of the Maskil’s performance role. In addition, I consider two oaths of the Maskil’s office that were drawn from initiation ceremonies and incorporated into the Hodayot (1QHa 6:28–33 and 1QHa 7:21–25). Through oral performance of these oaths, any qualified leader could renew or appropriate the institutional authority of the Maskil’s office. 4.1 The Maskil’s Fictional Character One of Newsom’s most insightful contributions to scholarship on the Hodayot pertains to the rhetorical function of the independent personal pronoun “I.” Newsom argues that “I” is a sort of “fictional character,” as she aptly describes it, which “strategically obscure[s]” the identity of the speaking subject.92 In the majority of cases, the rhetoric of the Hodayot camouflages any unique coloring of “I.” Therefore, “I” can be construed as the implied author or as a leading character, or as the listening audience or reading speaker who sympathizes with a leading character. Through oral performance, members could identify with the “I” of the Hodayot’s hymns and imagine or “re-member” themselves as ideal sectarians. Identity, after all, “is a product of imagination and of mental representation.”93 In some instances, however, the fictional character “I” undeniably presents the attributes of the Maskil’s performance role. And in both the Community Hymns and the Teacher Hymns, these sorts of passages also contain a rhetoric that could be enacted and co-opted by any current, qualified leader. The most obvious examples come from passages that directly identify the speaker with the Maskil: And I, the Maskil, I know you, my God, by the spirit that you have placed in me (‫)ברוח אשר נתתה בי‬. Faithfully I have heeded your wondrous secret counsel. By your holy spirit (‫ )ברוח קודשכה‬you have [o]pened up my knowledge within me through the mystery of your wisdom and the fountainhead of [your] pow[er]. (1QHa 20:14–16)94 92  Newsom, Self as Symbolic Space, 197–200. 93  Assmann, “Form as a Mnemonic Device,” 67. 94  Schuller and Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms), 63, with a minor modification.

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In the proper social setting, any leader who spoke these words could selfidentify with the Maskil’s performance role, particularly as an authoritative teacher endued with God’s holy spirit and blessed with special, God-given knowledge. Examples in which the fictional character “I” indirectly identifies with the Maskil by appropriating the attributes of his performance role, however, are subtler. But if we consider the Hodayot as spoken words in oral performance, the speaker self-identifies with the Maskil’s pedagogical leadership in several passages. Below I examine two examples from the Teacher Hymns that illustrate this point. In this first instance, God has placed the speaker in a leadership position in order to provide holy council: And you, O my God, have given me to the weary for holy counsel. You have [strengthened m]e in your covenant, and my tongue has become like (the tongues of) those taught by you. (1QHa 15:13)95 Recitation of this passage places the performer’s speech in continuity with those who came before him: “my tongue has become like (the tongues of) those taught by you.” Like previous teachers, the speaker is endowed with divinely instituted authority and God-given knowledge. Most importantly, the speaker of this hodayah subsequently self-identifies with the pedagogical leadership of the Maskil’s office: “you have made me a father to the children of kindness and like a foster father to the people of good omen (1QHa 15:23–24).”96 Similar to his predecessors, the speaker affirms that his teaching derives from a special relationship with God and his performance role entails oversight over God’s people. In the broader context of this second example, the speaker compares himself with someone silenced in Sheol (1QHa 16:33–39): Though you have made the tongue strong in my mouth, unrestrained, yet it is not possible to lift up (my) voice or to make (my) disciples hear, in order to revive the spirit of those who stumble and to support the weary with a word. (1QHa 16:36–37)97 Although the speaker longs to guide and support his disciples with his oral/ aural instruction (i.e., “lift up [my] voice” [‫ ]להרים קול‬and “make [my] disciple 95  Schuller and Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms), 49. 96  Schuller and Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms), 49. 97  Schuller and Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms), 53.

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hear” [‫)]ולהאזין למודים‬, the crippling attacks on his tongue prevent him from doing so. These attacks are part of a long anatomical list that invokes twelve parts of the body culminating with the mouth, tongue, and heart.98 An inclusio indicates that the heart is a central part of the speaker’s body, and the denouement implies that muteness—namely, the inability to speak his heart—is the gravest calamity.99 Overall, through recitation of this passage a speaker could self-identify with the Maskil’s performance role, especially as an authoritative teacher who leads through oral instruction. In addition to pedagogical leadership, the speaker sometimes self-identifies with the special knowledge of the Maskil’s performance role. Below I will examine two illustrative examples from the Teacher Hymns. In this first instance, the speaker utilizes one of the confessional statements scattered throughout the Hodayot to proclaim and co-opt the Maskil’s knowledge: I will respond with an answer to those who would confound me and with a reproach to those who are despondent on account of me. And his judgment I will declare wrong, but your decision I will declare right. For I know your truth, and I choose my judgment and accept my afflictions, because I wait expectantly for your kindness. You put a prayer of supplication in the mouth of your servant. (1QHa 17:8–11)100 As Newsom points out, the expression “I know” (‫ )ידעתי‬in the Hodayot frequently has “something of the quality of a confessional statement rather than a cognitive one.”101 In other words, “I know” often indicates the speaker’s acknowledgement and acceptance rather than mere comprehension.102 In the above passage, for example, the speaker acknowledges that he accepts God’s truth rather than his opponents’ judgments.103 Moreover, similar to 98  The list contains heart, flesh, loins, arm, joint, hand, leg, knees, foot, arm, tongue, and mouth. 99  An inclusio occurs between “my heart has been poured out like water” (1QHa 16:33) and “they have laid waste to the tablet of his heart” (1QHa 16:38). The ordering of listed items accentuates this inclusio, because anatomical lists in biblical poetry often catalogue the parts of the human downwards from the head to toe. Instead, this list culminates with anatomical parts related with speech: mouth, tongue, and heart. Concerning lists in biblical poetry, see Wilfred G. E. Watson, Classical Hebrew Poetry: A Guide to Its Techniques, JSOTSup 26 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1984), 353–55. 100  Schuller and Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms), 55; emphasis added. 101  Newsom, Self as Symbolic Space, 211. 102  Newsom, Self as Symbolic Space, 209. 103  The speaker asserts that he will condemn the “judgment” (‫ )וארשיעה דינו‬of those who attempt to confound him and declare right God’s “decision” (‫)ומשפטכה אצדיק‬.

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the Maskil’s God-given ability to give a proper “response of the tongue” (‫מענה‬ ‫)לשון‬, the speaker affirms that he will “respond with an answer” (‫ )ואשיבה דבר‬to those who would try to confound him.104 In confessional passages like this, the speakers come to experience themselves as someone possessing the Maskil’s knowledge by reciting it, and the audience comes to experience the speaker as one possessing the Maskil’s knowledge by hearing him tell it.105 In this second example, the speaker affirms his authority to examine members at communal, liturgical gatherings (i.e., “gathered together for your covenant” and “council of the holy ones”) and proclaims that his teaching is consonant with correct instruction (i.e., “the way of your heart”): You have not covered in shame the faces of all who have been examined by me, who have gathered together for your covenant. Those who walk in the way of your heart listen to me, and they marshal themselves before you in the council of the holy ones…. Through me you have illumined the faces of many, and you have increased them beyond number. For you have made me understand your wonderful mysteries, and in your wonderful council you have shown yourself strong to me. (1QHa 12:24–26, 28–29)106 By reciting the phrase “through me you have illuminated the faces of many,” any qualified leader could have self-identified with the pedagogical leadership of the Maskil. More importantly, the speaker affirms his possession of inspired, divinely revealed, esoteric knowledge: “for you have made me understand your wonderful mysteries” (‫)הודעתני ברזי פלאכה‬. According to “the rules for the Maskil” in the Community Rule (1QS 9:12–26a), the “wonderful mysteries” (‫—)רזי פלא‬a designation for esoteric knowledge concerning the true meaning of God’s acts—fall under the authority of the Maskil’s office (1QS 9:18).107 Thus, this type of knowledge pertains specifically to the Maskil’s performance role, and the speaker of this passage would assert that he, too, is blessed with the Maskil’s special knowledge. Through recitation of this passage, any qualified

104  1QHa 8:24. Cf. also 1QHa 10:9; 15:14, 16; 19:31, 37. Concerning the Maskil’s ability to give a “response of the tongue,” see Newman, “Construction of the Ideal Sage,” 953–54. 105  Newsom, Self as Symbolic Space, 211. 106  Schuller and Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms), 41. 107  For a description of “wonderful mysteries,” see Samuel I. Thomas, The “Mysteries” of Qumran: Mystery, Secrecy, and Esotericism in the Dead Sea Scrolls, SBLEJL 25 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2009), 136–50.

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leader could redefine their identity by appropriating the Maskil’s God-given knowledge.108 4.2 The Maskil’s Oaths of Office Another way in which the Hodayot’s discourse transforms the leadership’s identity stems from the oral performance of speech acts. In two instances, oaths with emphatic speaker-identification (i.e., “but as for me” [‫ )]ואני‬are demarcated as independent units of speech by vacats (cf. 1QHa 6:28–33, 7:21–25). Both of these oaths were likely drawn from initiation ceremonies and incorporated into the performance of the Hodayot. Moreover, both 1QHa 6:28–33 and 1QHa 7:21–25 strongly resemble an oath of office, in which the speaker states the obligations of the Maskil’s office and swears to uphold them. Through oral performance of these oaths, a leader could renew or appropriate the institutional authority of the Maskil’s office. The first oath is positioned at the beginning of a hymn prescribed “for the Maskil” (hodayah 7:21–8:41). This oath therefore directly identifies the speaker with the Maskil: vacat Bless[ed are you, God of compassion, with a] song, a psalm for the Tea[cher] […] glad cry [… th]ey love you forever. But as for me, […] tru[th …] and I love you freely. With all (my) heart and with all (my) soul I have purified (myself) from iniquity. [And upon] my [li]fe [I] have sw[orn no]t to turn aside from all that you have commanded. I will stand firm against the many appointed for the [day of slaughter, no]t abandoning any of your statutes vacat. (1QHa 7:21–25)109 Through this oath, the speaker identifies with two responsibilities of the Maskil’s office. On the one hand, the speaker proclaims that he has purified himself “with all (his) heart and with all (his) soul.” This creedal statement was likely drawn from earlier, less elaborate initiation rites, which require members to swear an oath to return to the Law “with all one’s heart and with all one’s soul” (cf. 1QS 5:7c–9a; CD 15:5b–10a).110 According to the beginning of 108  Assmann, “Form as a Mnemonic Device,” 76. 109  Schuller and Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms), 25, with some minor changes; emphasis added. 110  According to Charlotte Hempel, the early admission requirements reflected in 1QS 5:7c–9a and CD 15:5b–10a centered on this oath (“Community Structures in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Admission, Organization, Disciplinary Procedures,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls after Fifty Years: A Comprehensive Assessment, ed. Peter W. Flint and James C. VanderKam, 2 vols. [Leiden: Brill, 1999], 2:67–92, esp. 70–71).

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the Community Rule, this initiation oath encapsulates a central obligation of the Maskil’s pedagogy: “He is to teach them to seek God with all their heart and with all their soul” (1QS 1:1c–2a).111 On the other hand, the speaker swears not to turn aside from all of God’s commandments. This fundamental duty of membership (1QS 1:15) also constitutes a core responsibility of the Maskil, who is charged with teaching members “to do that which is good and upright before Him, just as He commanded through Moses and all His servants the prophets” (1QS 1:2b–3a).112 The second oath occurs at the conclusion of another hymn prescribed “for the Maskil” (hodayah 5:12–6:33). As I will detail below, this oath bears striking similarities with “the rules for the Maskil” in the Community Rule (1QS 9:12–26a), especially the portrayal of the Maskil’s role in the admission process (1QS 9:15–16). The close verbal parallels with the Community Rule suggest that parts of this oath (1QHa 6:29–30, 32) were drawn from an entrance ceremony:113 vacat But as for me, I have knowledge by means of your abundant goodness and by the oath I pledged upon my life not to sin against you [and] not to do anything evil in your sight. And thus I was brought into the community (‫ )הוגשתי ביחד‬with all the men of my counsel. According to his insight I will bring him near, and according to the amount of his inheritance I will love him (‫)לפי שכלו אגישנו וכרוב נחלתו אהבנו‬. But I will not regard evil, and a b[rib]e (given) in wi[cked]ness I will not acknowledge. [And] I will no[t] exchange your truth for wealth nor any of your judgments for a bribe. But according as [… a per]son, [I will l]ove him, and according as you place him far off, thus I will abhor him (‫)לפי [… אי]ש [אה]בנו וכרחקך אותו כן אתעבנו‬. And I will not bring into the

111  Wise, Abegg, and Cook, The Dead Sea Scrolls, 117. 112  Wise, Abegg, and Cook, The Dead Sea Scrolls, 117. 113  For a comparison of the close verbal parallels with technical terminology in the Community Rule, see Newsom, Self as Symbolic Space, 278 n.117. According to Stegemann and Schuller, the phrase “I was brought into the community” (‫ )הוגשתי ביחד‬refers to “the formal ceremony of entrance into the community (cf. 1QS IX 15–16)”; moreover, “the text from ‫ לפי‬to the end of line 33 could be a citation of the text of the entrance ceremony, perhaps the words spoken concerning those being received, a ‘liturgy’ in which the one responsible for the new candidate stated his obligations” (DJD 40:93). Additionally, Bonnie Pedrotti Kittel posits that similarities between “the central ‫ לפי‬clauses” and directions “for yearly examination of a member’s religious insight [cf. 1QS 5:23–24] … suggest that these lines are creedal statements, or are drawn from vows taken by the community” (The Hymns of Qumran: Translation and Commentary, SBLDS 50 [Atlanta: SBL Press, 1981], 153).

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council of [your] tr[uth any] who turn away [from] your [cov]enant vacat. (1QHa 6:28–33)114 As noted by Newsom, “One has the distinct impression that the speaker is implicitly addressing the members of the sect through prayer.”115 Comparable to the use of “I” in the oral performance of creeds and oaths, the speaker proclaims correct beliefs and avows proper comportment to the audience. More specifically, this oath explicitly associates the speaker with the three aspects of the Maskil’s performance role described in “the rules for the Maskil” in the Community Rule (1QS 9:12–26a). First, the Maskil is responsible for establishing and maintaining the hierarchy of the sectarian communities (1QS 9:14–16). Thus, this oath ends with the solemn promise, “I will not bring into the council of your truth any who turn away from your covenant.” Note also that the speaker describes the community as “the men of my council.”116 Second, according to “the rules for the Maskil” in the Community Rule, the Maskil establishes community hierarchy based on his God-given insight into the spiritual qualities of men and their foreordained inheritance (1QS 9:14–16; cf. also 1QS 4:16, 24): In each case he [i.e., the Maskil] decides one’s judgment according to one’s spiritual qualities, drawing close to each according to their purity and bringing each near (i.e., admitting them) according to their wisdom; and thus (shall be) his love and his hate (i.e. in this manner, he will determine each person’s rank). (1QS 9:15–16)117 In a similar vein, as pointed out by Newsom, the speaker of the oath in 1QHa 6:28–33 “acts through the knowledge that has been given to him by God.”118 The Maskil proclaims that he will bring near (i.e., admit) and “love” (‫)אהבנו‬ members according to their insight and their inheritance (1QHa 6:29–30): “according to his insight I will bring him near, and according to the amount of his inheritance I will love him” (‫)לפי שכלו אגישנו וכרוב נחלתו אהבנו‬. But he will “abhor” (‫ )אתעבנו‬members according to measure by which God places them

114  Schuller and Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms), 23; emphasis added. See also, Newsom, Self as Symbolic Space, 280. Concerning the placement of vacats, see DJD 40:88. 115  Newsom, Self as Symbolic Space, 278. 116  In this instance, I take the use of “council” and “community” to be the same technical use as in the Community Rule (e.g., 1QS 11:8). 117  This is my translation. 118  Newsom, Self as Symbolic Space, 279.

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far off (i.e., ostracizes them): “as you place him far off, thus I will abhor him” (‫)וכרחקך אותו כן אתעבנו‬. Third, the speaker affirms that his hierarchical decisions will be based on God’s truth and judgments (‫ )משפטיך‬rather than upon wealth (‫)בהון‬. Similarly, in “the rules of the Maskil,” the Teacher proclaims he will disregard wealth (‫ ;הון‬1QS 9:22). Instead, he teaches his followers with wisdom in order that they may answer those who are only zealous for “wealth” (‫“ ;)הון‬as for me,” the Maskil sings in the final hymn, “my judgment lies with God” (‫כיא אני לאל‬ ‫( )משפטי‬1QS 11:2).119 Overall, the speaker of this oath (1) affirms God’s agency in his future actions and (2) attributes to himself key aspects of the Maskil’s performance role outlined by “the rules for the Maskil” in the Community Rule (1QS 9:12–26a). During oral performance, these utterances would have had the effect of an inauguration oath, in which a leader swears to uphold the duties of his office. Through oral performance, a leader could renew or appropriate both the God-given knowledge and the institutional authority of the Maskil’s office. 5

Cultural Memory of Leadership

In this last section, I examine passages from the Hodayot that suggest the Maskil utilized the cultural memory of founding figures to shape the performance role of the Maskil’s office. In other words, I propose that leaders used oral performance of the Hodayot not only to appropriate the office of the Maskil, but also to associate the Maskil’s office with the founding figures of the sect. In particular, the Maskil co-opts two distinctive features of the sect’s cultural memory of its founder(s): (1) oral-written performance and (2) an ability to give “a ready answer.” I begin with a brief critique of Kim Harkins’s arguments against the Teacher Hymns hypothesis. Although I find Kim Harkins’s approach refreshing and her arguments insightful, she underrepresents the Teacher’s role in the Hodayot. To be sure, her perspective adds a needed corrective to those that view the “I” of the Hodayot as a historical report of the Teacher of Righteousness. According to 119  The ending of the Community Rule is composed of several originally independent units, which were probably “recycled from other contexts” (Newsom, Self as Symbolic Space, 167). Subsequent to “the rules for the Maskil,” all copies of the Community Rule save 4QSe (4Q259) contain a calendar of prayer times (1QS 9:26b–10:8a) and a first-person hymn (1QS 10:8b–11:22). Concerning the textual division of the Community Rule, see Sarianna Metso, The Textual Development of the Qumran Community Rule, STDJ 21 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 119, 142. Concerning the association of this hymn with the Maskil’s responsibilities, see Falk, Daily, Sabbath, and Festival Prayers, 103–10.

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Kim Harkins, the experiences of the speaker in the Hodayot are not reports of “an actual person’s specific experiences.”120 Similar to Newsom’s approach, the Hodayot’s rhetoric functions to transform the reader’s self-understanding by inviting him/her to identify with the experiences of an imaginal “I”.121 Overall, Kim Harkins’s interpretation is important for my present discussion because she illuminates how the Hodayot’s authors could have borrowed the experiences of exemplary prophets and visionaries from other cultural texts and presented them as if they were the implied author’s experiences.122 In distinction to Kim Harkins, however, I emphasize below that the cultural memory of founding figures, such as the Teacher of Righteousness, is woven into this tapestry of personal experiences in the Teacher Hymns and Community Hymns alike. As Judith H. Newman also argues, the Hodayot contain stories that serve to evoke the particular memory of the Teacher of Righteousness.123 But because the Hodayot are cultural texts, the “memories” of this founding figure are fictionalized—that is, they do not represent historical reality from a modern perspective. Instead, memories of the founders serve as an instrument in forming the identity of the membership and the leadership (i.e., history is “instrumentalized”). Through oral performance of the Hodayot, any Maskil could therefore associate his office with the founding figures and his performance role with their verbal qualities—namely, (1) authoritative, oral-written performance and (2) a capability to give “an answer of the tongue” from God-given knowledge. 5.1 Oral-Written Performance As Newman has argued, the Maskil’s oral performance is endued with scriptural authority in the final hymn of the Community Rule, where the Maskil’s pedagogical praise is twice called an “engraved statute”—an allusion to the engraved tablets of the Decalogue (Exod 32:16).124 In the first instance (1QS 10:6), the Maskil’s prayer is described as “a statute forever engraved” (‫ ;)כחוק חרות‬in the second (1QS 10:8), the Maskil praises God with a “psalm” generated from the “engraved statute” on his tongue: “while I live, on my tongue shall the statute be engraved—with praise [literally, “a psalm”] its fruit, even the gift of my lips 120  Kim Harkins, Reading with an “I” to the Heavens, 45. 121  See n.86 above. 122  Kim Harkins, Reading with an “I” to the Heavens, 156. 123  Newman, “Construction of the Ideal Sage,” 956. 124  Judith H. Newman, “Speech and Spirit: Paul and the Maskil as Inspired Interpreters of Scripture,” in The Holy Spirit, Inspiration, and Cultures of Antiquity: Multidisciplinary Perspectives, ed. Jörg Frey and John R. Levison, Ekstasis 5 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2014), 241–64, esp. 245–46.

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I will lift” (‫)ובכול היותי חוק חרות בלשוני לפרי תהלה ומנת שפתי אשא‬.125 In both of these examples, according to Newman’s interpretation, the Law is “metaphorically inscribed on the teacher’s mouth.”126 Newman therefore concludes that the Maskil is “producing a form of teaching that, once written on scrolls in the form we see it, becomes itself authoritative scripture for the Yaḥad movement.”127 Newman’s interpretation improves our understanding of the Maskil’s performance, although I disagree with one aspect of her interpretation. Since the Maskil’s speech only becomes authoritative Scripture once it has been written in the form we see it, Newman’s argument sets up a dichotomy between oral and written that is anachronistic to Judaism in antiquity. Admittedly, the sectarian movement associated with the Scrolls certainly consisted of “textual communities”—that is, their “raison d’être” was intrinsically tied to texts, and they used texts to define their identity.128 Moreover, the textual orientation of this movement undoubtedly shaped leadership. In textual communities, as Assmann observes, philological and socio-religious competence goes hand in hand, and leadership often “falls to the person who possesses the most comprehensive knowledge and the most illuminating interpretation of texts.”129 The Maskil fulfilled this need for a textual exegete par excellence. But, in my view, members of the ancient sectarian movement did not always see a qualitative difference between writing and speech. Instead of Newman’s conclusion, I would therefore argue that the reference to “engraved statutes” on the Maskil’s tongue in the Community Rule suggests that his performance produces both oral and written teachings. In short, from the perspective of the final editors of the Community Rule, the Maskil’s performance is at once oral and written. Moreover, in the proper arena, these passages suggest that the Maskil’s performance produces a teaching that is immediately authoritative as Scripture. These verbal characteristics are also a part of the oral tradition and cultural memory of the founding figures’ performance. While it is true that there is no biography of the Teacher of Righteousness in the Dead Sea Scrolls, I cannot 125  D SSR 1:39. A similar description is found in the Songs of the Sage, where he recounts and engraves God’s wonders (4Q511 63–64 ii 2–3). 126  Newman, “Speech and Spirit,” 246. 127  Newman, “Speech and Spirit,” 251–52; emphasis added. 128  Carol A. Newsom, “The Sage in the Literature of Qumran: The Functions of the Maskîl,” in The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, ed. John G. Gammie and Leo G. Perdue (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1990), 373–82, esp. 375. In Newsom’s words, “Discerning and practicing the correct interpretation of Torah is the raison d’être for the entire community” (“The Sage in the Literature of Qumran,” 375). Concerning “textual communities,” see Brian Stock, The Implications of Literacy: Written Language and Models of Interpretation in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983), 90–93. 129  Assmann, Religion and Cultural Memory, 73.

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agree with Philip R. Davies that “his life had to be constructed entirely from clues that lay partly in the biblical text being interpreted and partly in community texts.”130 In short, Davies dismisses the importance of oral traditions and cultural memories for constructing the life of the Teacher. According to Davies, for example, “There is no evidence of the creation and preservation of a body of tradition, oral or written, about the ‘teacher’ such as gathered about many religious leaders [like, for example, David].”131 Quite the contrary, it is just such a body of tradition that underlies and informs several Dead Sea Scrolls. As John J. Collins has argued, for example, the Habakkuk Pesher’s description of the Teacher of Righteousness assumes a narrative, “about the Teacher and his adversaries that is then correlated with the prophetic text, by means of the catchwords ‘traitors’ and ‘believe.’”132 In other words, as Collins summarizes elsewhere, the pesharim “have to rely on tradition, whether oral or written.”133 Below I explore two traditions about the Teacher of Righteousness specifically related to his performance. Similar to the Maskil, the cultural memory of the sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls portrayed the founders’ performance as (1) both oral and written and (2) immediately authoritative as Scripture. One brief passage from the Damascus Document exemplifies the oral-written performance of the founder(s). In a symbolic interpretation of Numbers 21:18 and Isaiah 54:16, a leader called the “Interpreter of the Law/ Torah” (‫“ )דורש התורה‬inscribes” (‫ )חקק‬his preeminent interpretation of the Law in the form of “engraved regulations” (‫)במחוקקות‬: He raised up from Aaron insightful men and from Israel wise men and He taught them and they dug the well: “the well the princes dug, the nobility of the people dug it with a rod” (Num 21:18). The Well is the Law, and its “diggers” are the repentant of Israel who went out of the land of Judah and dwelt in the land of Damascus…. The “rod” is the Interpreter of the Law (‫ )והמחוקק הוא דורש התורה‬of whom Isaiah said, “he takes out a tool for his work.” And the “nobles of the people” are those who come 130  Philip R. Davies, “What History Can We Get From the Scrolls, and How?” in The Dead Sea Scrolls: Texts and Context, ed. Charlotte Hempel, STDJ 90 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 31–46, esp. 41; emphasis added. 131  Davies, “What History Can We Get From the Scrolls,” 41. 132  John J. Collins, “Prophecy and History in the Pesharim,” in Authoritative Scriptures in Ancient Judaism, ed. Mladen Popović, JSJSup 141 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 209–26, esp. 218. 133  John J. Collins, “Historiography in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” DSD 19 (2012): 159–76, esp. 167; emphasis added. In the same vein, Michael A. Knibb states that biblical commentaries “frequently follow traditional lines of interpretation and their language is opaque” (The Qumran Community, CCJCW 2 [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987], 208).

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to excavate the well with the engraved regulations that the Rod inscribed (‫)במחוקקות אשר חקק המחוקק‬.” (CD 6:2–9)134 According to this passage, God “taught” the repentant of Israel (i.e., the sectarian community) who withdrew to the land of Damascus (i.e., the Judean desert). More precisely, God “caused them to hear” (‫ )וישמיעם‬the wise men of Israel, and the repentant of Israel subsequently “dug the well.” Thus, “digging the well” represents the oral pedagogy and proper interpretation of Torah. Most importantly, they use the “Rod” to dig the well. In other words, proper oral pedagogy of Torah is accomplished through the “Rod.” The “Rod” represents the “Interpreter of the Torah,” perhaps the Teacher of Righteousness, who was prefigured by the prophet Isaiah (cf. CD 1:11–12).135 Thus, in the artful alliteration and symbolic interpretation of this passage, the speech of the “Interpreter of the Torah” metaphorically represents inscription, and his oral instruction symbolizes engraved regulations. Concerning the immediately authoritative status of founding figures’ oral performance, the following passage from the Habakkuk Pesher describing the Teacher’s practiced oral performance is particularly remarkable: God told Habakkuk to write down what is going to happen to the generation to come; but when that period would be complete He did not make known to him. When it says, “so that with ease someone can read it,” (‫ )למען ירוץ הקורא בו‬this refers to the Teacher of Righteousness to whom God made known all the mysterious revelations of his servants the prophets. (1QpHab 7:1–5)136 According to this passage, the Teacher of Righteousness “reads” the prophets with ease. I note three aspects of what reading means in this passage. First, as I previously argued, in the majority of circumstances for ancient Jews, reading was speaking. “Like a great many in the history of Western literacy,” as noted by Wise, “ancient Judeans mostly absorbed books with their ears.”137 Second, 134  Wise, Abegg, and Cook, The Dead Sea Scrolls, 57. I made some changes to the last half of the translation in order to emphasize the puns involving writing. 135  The identity of the “Interpreter of the Torah” is highly disputed. I only wish to draw attention to how the Damascus Document portrays a leader’s oral instruction as being both oral and written. Concerning the identity of the “Interpreter of the Torah,” see John J. Collins, The Scepter and the Star: The Messiahs of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Other Ancient Literature (New York: Doubleday, 1995), 102–23. 136  Wise, Abegg, and Cook, The Dead Sea Scrolls, 84. 137  Wise, Language and Literacy in Roman Judaea, 354.

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the social context of Judaism suggests that reading was performative most of the time.138 Third, reading often denotes more than oral performance. In this passage, for example, reading involves comprehension and interpretation of a text as it was performed.139 Because God made known to him all the mysterious meanings of the prophets’ revelations, when the Teacher of Righteousness reads prophetic texts, he knows more about their meaning than the prophets themselves who first uttered them. Thus, the Teacher of Righteousness has God-given knowledge into Scripture’s meaning, and his oral performance is immediately authoritative as Scripture. Returning to the Hodayot, one finds similar descriptions of the Maskil’s oral-written performance, particularly in his portrayals as an authoritative teacher who instructs his God-given knowledge through pedagogical praise.140 The most dramatic example is found in the following passage, in which his speech is compared to a tablet of the heart: “the utterance of my lips is silenced by horror. They have laid waste to the just claim of the tablet of my heart” (1QHa 16:37–38).141 Several aspects of parallelism connect “utterance of my lips” (‫ )מזל שפתי‬with “the tablet of my heart” (‫)לוח לבי‬, which is an allusion to the enculturation and memorization of oral-written texts (cf. Prov 3:3, 7:3).142 Moreover, “tablet”—similar to engraved statues on the Maskil’s tongue in the Community Rule—brings to mind the “engraved tablets” of the Decalogue (Exod 32:16). Although his speechless state prevents him from speaking, the Maskil longs to “lift up his voice and make his disciples hear” (1QHa 16:36–37) the authoritative instruction engraved on the tablet of his heart. Two more examples of the Maskil’s oral-written performance are noteworthy. First, God’s eternal truths have been written on the Maskil’s heart of stone: “Truly, [… you] have set straight in the ear of dust, and that which will be forever you have engraved on the heart of stone” (1QHa 21:13).143 According to this passage, “that which will be forever” and another lost parallel expression are 138  As Jaffee rightly emphasizes, reading “was the activity of declaiming a text before an audience in a social performance” (Torah in the Mouth, 17). 139  George J. Brooke, “Reading, Searching and Blessing: A Functional Approach to Scriptural Interpretation in the ‫יחד‬,” in The Temple in Text and Tradition: A Festschrift in Honour of Robert Hayward, ed. R. Timothy McLay, LSTS 83 (London: Bloomsbury, 2015), 140–56, esp. 145. 140  Concerning “pedagogical praise,” as Falk has correctly noted, liturgy and pedagogy “are not mutually exclusive categories as both worship and instruction are explicitly mentioned as purposes” in the Hodayot (Daily, Sabbath, and Festival Prayers, 102–3). 141  Schuller and Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms), 53. 142  David M. Carr, Writing on the Tablet of the Heart: Origins of Scripture and Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 126–28. 143  Schuller and Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms), 65.

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inscribed on the speaker’s stone heart (written) and revealed to the speaker’s ear (aural/oral). Second, in imagery reminiscent of 1QS 10:8 (see above), the Maskil exclaims God has engraved “judgment” (‫ )משפט‬upon his tongue: Truly, you open a fountain in the mouth of your servant, and upon my tongue you have engraved ju[dgment] according to the measuring line (]‫[ )ובלשוני חקקתה על קו מ[שפט‬for the one who pro]claims to a (human) vessel from his understanding, and for one who interprets these things to a being of dust like me. You open a foun[tain] in order to reprove a vessel of clay with respect to his way and the guilt of one born of woman according to his deeds. (1QHa 23:11–14)144 This passage depicts the Maskil’s performance as both oral and written, and it alludes to his authoritative pedagogy of oral-written sectarian regulations. Because the Maskil orally proclaims “his understanding” (literally, “from his understanding” [‫ )]מבינתו‬and “interprets these things” (‫ )ולמליצ באלה‬for mortal human beings such as himself, the word “judgment” (]‫ )מ[שפט‬in the above passage invokes the ruling (‫—)משפט‬an oral-written body of sectarian regulations (see Chapter 1 §‎1.2). This connotation of “judgment” is also invoked by declaring that God has opened this fountain of truth (in the Maskil’s mouth) in order to reprove a human being with respect to “his way” (‫ )דרכו‬and “his deeds” (‫)כמעשיו‬. Similarly, according to “the rules for the Maskil” in the Community Rule, the Maskil teaches members how to walk blamelessly (1QS 9:19) and instructs “them in every legal finding that is to regulate their works” (1QS 9:20). Overall, any leader could have performed these passages in order to appropriate the Maskil’s office and associate the Maskil’s performance role with the founding figures of the sect. 5.2 Answer of the Tongue Another part of the sectarian movement’s cultural memory of their founding figures pertains to their ability to give “an answer of the tongue.” According to a fragmentary passage in the Psalms Pesher, the Teacher of Righteousness possesses the capability divinely given speech. The extant fragments translate: “and my tongue is the pen of [a ready scribe.” (Ps 45:2). Its interpretation] concerns the Teacher of [Righteousness …] God […] him with an eloquent tongue. (4QpPsa [4Q171] 3–10 iv 26–27)145 144  Schuller and Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms), 71. 145  D SSR 2:103.

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I stress three points of interpretation. First, and most obvious, this passage describes the Teacher’s speech using a pen metaphor, in which his tongue is compared to the pen of a skilled scribe. In this manner, the speech of the Teacher of Righteousness is directly equated with the writing of a scribe, suggesting that his performance was both oral and written.146 Second, the phrase “ready scribe” (‫)סופר מהיר‬, literally translated as “fast scribe,” depicts his performance as competent and skilled. Third, the phrase “eloquent tongue” (‫במעני‬ ‫)לשון‬, literally translated as “an answer of the tongue,” describes the Teacher of Righteousness as someone capable of divinely given speech.147 Overall, according to this passage, the Teacher is so knowledgeable and eloquent that “his teaching spills out like learned speech, comparable to the outpouring of the fluid pen of a scribe.”148 According to the Hodayot, the ability to give “an answer of the tongue” is not unique to the performance of the Teacher of Righteousness. Outside of the Psalms Pesher, as Newman has noted, “an answer of the tongue” also (and only) occurs in the Hodayot, where it is portrayed as a fundamental attribute of the Maskil’s performance role.149 In several occurrences in the Teacher Hymns, “an answer of the tongue” describes the speaker’s ability to deliver a divinely inspired response, either reproach for his enemies or support for his followers (1QHa 10:9; 15:14, 16; 19:31, 37). Of particular interest, “an answer of the tongue” twice describes the Maskil’s speech (1QHa 4:29–30, 8:23–24).150 Any leader could have performed these passages in order to appropriate the Maskil’s office and associate his performance with the Teacher of Righteousness. The following table arranges the translation of these two passages side by side for comparison: 146  According to George J. Brooke, this metaphor “raises in an indirect way whether the commentator imagined the activity of the Teacher both as scribal and also as oral” (“The ‘Apocalyptic’ Community, the Matrix of the Teacher and Rewriting Scripture,” in Authoritative Scriptures in Ancient Judaism, ed. Mladen Popović, JSJSup 141 [Leiden: Brill, 2010], 39–53, esp. 42). 147  Daniel K. Falk, “Petition and Ideology in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Prayer and Poetry in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature: Essays in Honor of Eileen M. Schuller on the Occasion of Her 65th Birthday, ed. Jeremy Penner, Ken Penner, and Cecilia Wassen, STDJ 98 (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 135–60, esp. 141 n.22; Newman, “Construction of the Ideal Sage,” 953–54. 148  Newman, “Construction of the Ideal Sage,” 954. 149  Newman, “Construction of the Ideal Sage,” 953. 150  Although the lost incipit precludes certainty, “answer of the tongue” (1QHa 4:29–30) probably describes the Maskil’s speech in hodayah [3:?]–4:40 (Falk, “Petition and Ideology,” 141–142, esp. n.27; Newman, “Construction of the Ideal Sage,” 945 n.16). The second example (1QHa 8:23–24) occurs in a hymn explicitly prescribed “for the Maskil” (1QHa 7:21 [hodayah 7:21–8:41]).

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“Answer of the tongue” in the Hodayot

1QHa 4:29–30

1QHa 8:23–24

[Blessed are you, O God of compass]ion on account of the spirits that you have placed in me. I will [f]ind an answer of the tongue (‫)מענה לשון‬, reciting your righteous acts and (your) patience […] and the deeds of your strong right hand.a

and a righteous guard over your word that you have entrusted to him lest he stray [from your commandments and so as n]ot to stumble in any of [his] dee[ds. For] through my knowledge of all these things [i.e., God’s word and his commandments] I will find an answer of the tongue (‫)מענה לשון‬.b

a Schuller and Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms), 17, with some minor changes. b Schuller and Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms), 29, with some minor changes.

As Newman convincingly argues, these passages indicate that an “answer of the tongue” is enabled by the Maskil’s special knowledge, which is bestowed by internalized spirits.151 More specifically, the Maskil’s knowledge of God’s word and commandments derives from the holy spirit placed in him by God (1QHa 20:14–16). Similar to the prophets of the previous generations who were anointed by the holy spirit (CD 2:12–13), the Maskil is an inspired prophet who enjoys God’s holy spirit, which blesses him with special knowledge and verbal abilities (1QHa 8:20, 20:14–15).152 In conclusion, passages in the Hodayot that recount the Maskil’s “answer of the tongue,” God-given knowledge, and oral-written performance were inevitably viewed through the lens of the sect’s cultural memory of the Teacher of Righteousness. According to the sectarian movement’s cultural texts, God raised up a Teacher of Righteousness to guide the sectarian communities with his divinely inspired interpretation and “an answer of the tongue” (CD 1:11; 4QpPsa [4Q171] 3–10 iv 26–27). The Teacher’s God-given knowledge was so profound, and his oral-written performance so practiced, that the sect immediately received his pedagogy as authoritative Scripture (1QpHab 7:1–5). Through oral performance of the Hodayot, any Maskil could associate his office with the founding figures’ performance. By recounting passages that ascribe these same qualities to the Maskil, the leader proclaims that his performance is also oral-written and immediately authoritative. Similar to the Teacher of Righteousness, his 151  Newman, “Construction of the Ideal Sage,” 951–55. 152  Newman, “Construction of the Ideal Sage,” 954.

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special knowledge equips him with “an answer of the tongue,” a divinely given response, which he uses to instruct and guide membership. Through oral performance, in Newman’s words, the “voice of the Teacher is renewed and made alive by the voice of the Maskil.”153 6 Conclusion In this chapter I investigated how one specific text, an anthology of poetic thanksgiving hymns, was experienced through oral performance and used for sectarian identity formation. My performance criticism focused on the impact of the Hodayot as oral discourse by treating its hymns as spoken words (speech) that appeared in oral performance (reading). In particular, I explained how members and leaders could have identified with the experiences and roles constructed by the Hodayot. Through oral performance of the Hodayot, the speaker could create his identity as an ordinary member, or a qualified leader could transform his identity into the Maskil. I began by establishing the plausibility of the Hodayot’s public oral performance in praise and worship. On the one hand, some form-critical objections to liturgical use are based on unjustified assessments of “liturgical signposts,” a narrow definition of “liturgical,” or a problematic form-critical bifurcation of the Hodayot. The hybridity of the Hodayot collection undermines a dichotomy into private and communal social settings, and the polyvalence of “I” blurs the line between supposed hymn classes. On the other hand, the angelic liturgy offers strong evidence that, at the very least, some of the Hodayot’s hymns were used in public praise and worship. Additionally, internal clues, such as times of prayer, plural imperatives, first-person plural, singing, and communal worship, ensconce several hymns within a liturgical setting. Throughout this chapter, I utilized the concept of “cultural memory” from memory studies to explore three ways oral performance could have an impact on ordinary members. In particular, I argued the Hodayot’s performance produced collective identity, transformed personal identity, and socialized members through narration of shared stories. The Hodayot’s oral performance could produce collective identity because its rhetoric evokes a common descent of membership and symbolically portrays memory in terms of oral performance. Oral performance could transform personal identity because the Hodayot contains discourse in which the speaker (1) explicitly self-identifies with confessional statements and (2) co-opts the common descent of the community. The 153  Newman, “Construction of the Ideal Sage,” 957.

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manner in which the Hodayot represents the self encourages the speaker to imagine, or “re-member,” oneself through oral performance. Third, oral performance could effectively socialize members because the Hodayot’s hymns are cultural texts, which narrate shared stories and transmit identity-confirming knowledge. For members in the sectarian movement, memory and identity were inextricably intertwined. What they remembered was constructed by cultural texts, such as the Hodayot. Rather than a historical person, the authors of the Hodayot portray the Maskil as a leadership office with a particular “performance role.” Four hymns prescribed “for the Maskil” in the Hodayot define the Maskil’s performance role as both a liturgical master and an authoritative teacher. Several passages in both the Community Hymns and the Teacher Hymns could have been used to transform the speaker’s identity into the Maskil and appropriate the Maskil’s office. On account of the fictional character “I,” any qualified leader could recite the Hodayot in order to self-identify with pedagogical leadership and special knowledge of the Maskil’s performance role. In addition, two oaths of the Maskil’s office were drawn from initiation ceremonies and incorporated into the Hodayot. Through oral performance of these oaths, a leader could renew or appropriate the institutional authority of the Maskil’s office. The Hodayot’s authors utilized the cultural memory of founding figures to shape the performance role of the Maskil’s office. Oral performance of the Hodayot functioned not only to appropriate the office of the Maskil but also to associate the Maskil’s office with the founding figures of the sect. Through oral performance of the Hodayot, the Maskil co-opted two distinctive features of the sect’s cultural memory of its founder(s): (1) oral-written performance and (2) an ability to give “a ready answer.” Similar to the founder(s), the Maskil’s performance was oral-written and immediately authoritative. Moreover, just like the Teacher of Righteousness, the Maskil’s special knowledge bestowed by God’s holy spirit enabled him to give an “answer of the tongue.”

chapter 6

Scribal Memory Buried within the archives of the American Folklife Center at the Library of Congress, electromagnetically embedded on plastic tape, are the recordings of an Appalachian mountain woman named Marybird McAllister.1 McAllister lived most of her life in Brown’s Cove, a rural town in the shadow of Virginia’s Shenandoah Mountains, where she loved to play her homemade banjo to the tune of traditional folk songs.2 She probably would have faded into obscurity had it not been for the ballad collector Paul Worthington, a student at the University of Virginia, who taped her songs between 1958 and 1961.3 Worthington traveled throughout the United States and Europe, collecting and recording traditional folk songs for posterity. Worthington was a folk singer, too, who recorded under the moniker Paul Clayton. In 1960 Clayton recorded a cover of one of McAllister’s songs named “Who’s Gonna Bring You Chickens When I’m Gone.”4 Apparently, he also found the lyrics to this tune in a songbook containing eight African-American folk songs in the University of Virginia library.5 But Clayton’s version, “Who’s Gonna Buy You Ribbons (When I’m Gone),” changed the song’s melody and lyrics. His recording enjoyed modest popularity. Normally, that would have been that. But two years later, Clayton’s close friend and fellow folksinger—Bob Dylan—lifted the melody, updated the 1  For the recordings of McAllister in the Library of Congress, see https://lccn.loc.gov/2012655263. 2  David Maurer, “Voice from the Past Sang of a Social Time in History,” The Daily Progress, September 19, 2010, https://www.dailyprogress.com/lifestyles/voice-from-past-sang-of-asocial-time-in-history/article_de15a5f4-db94–5593–90cd-0e96a232e3c5.html. 3  Bob Coltman, Paul Clayton and the Folksong Revival, AFMM 10 (Lanham: Scarecrow Press, 2008), 132–33; Catherine Moore, “The Song Collector: How Folksinger Paul Clayton Brought the Music of Virginia to the World,” University of Virginia Magazine, Spring 2010, http:// uvamagazine.org/articles/the_song_collector. 4  Coltman, Paul Clayton, 133. For the original release of this song, see P. Clayton, “Who’s Gonna Buy You Ribbons (When I’m Gone),” Monument, MO 561, 1960, Vinyl 7”. I should note that the title of McAllistar’s song is a disputed topic. It could also have been “Who’s Gonna Buy Your Chickens When I’m Gone.” 5  Coltman, Paul Clayton, 132. For the song lyrics Clayton found in the songbook at the library, see Francis H. Abbot, Eight Negro Songs (From Bedford Co. Virginia), ed. Alfred J. Swan (New York: Enoch & Sons, 1927), 5–7. The title of Abbot’s version is “Who Gon’ Bring You Chickens When I’m Gawn.” For a .pdf of this rare book, see “Bring You Chickens: A Site about ‘Eight Negro Songs’ by Abbot and Swan,” https://bringyouchickens.wordpress.com/2014/02/21/ bob-dylan-and-paul-clayton/.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | doi:10.1163/9789004408203_008

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lyrics, and recorded it afresh under the title “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right.”6 Dylan’s version was a hit. A legal battle ensued over the rights, but Clayton’s lawyers lost. Clayton remained close friends with Dylan, however. What both Clayton and Dylan knew (and perhaps their lawyers did not) was that Dylan had not violated any copyright laws. Dylan’s song was obviously a different version.7 Dylan made several small changes, such as replacing “darlin’” with “babe.” Dylan’s version also contains a significant amount of additional material, much of which is thematically different than Clayton’s version. Even more importantly, Clayton could not claim ownership of a traditional song in the public domain. As I outlined above, he first heard the song from McAllister, who had learned it from traditional folk sources. Moreover, Clayton found the lyrics in an old collection of folk songs sung by Francis H. Abbot. Overall, this brief story is a fascinating incident in the saga of an American musical legend. But my interest here is not musicological. Rather, I began with this “tale of tape” because it exemplifies a classic folk composition in action. As such, it illustrates two pivotal ideas in my discussion of scribal memory— namely, multiformity and mouvance. Whereas multiformity describes the thematic variation, narrative fluidity, and semantic polyvalence of tradition, mouvance denotes the indeterminate manuscript tradition of oral-traditional texts.8 Albert Lord, who coined the term “multiformity,” observed that singers of South Slavic epics created divergent performances of an oral tradition, yet they still considered each performance to represent the same song.9 Moreover, according to Lord, these variations made sense—that is, “the changes have not been the kind that distort the tale. If anything, they have enhanced it.”10 For instance, he observed the presence of (1) omissions and additions (“saying the same thing in fewer or more lines”), (2) changes in word order or line sequence, (3) expansion (“adding details of description”), and (4) substitutions of words and themes, all of which recreate a song that is “separate, yet inseparable” from other versions.11 These recreations were possible, according to Lord, because 6  Bob Spitz, Dylan: A Biography (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1989), 200. For the original release of this song, see B. Dylan, “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right,” The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, Columbia, CL 1986, 1963, Vinyl 12”. 7  Spitz, Dylan, 200. 8  Paul Zumthor coined the term “mouvance” to describe the indeterminate manuscript traditions of oral-traditional texts. See Paul Zumthor, Oral Poetry: An Introduction, trans. Kathryn Murphy-Judy, THL 70 (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1990), 196–209. 9  Albert Lord, The Singer of Tales, ed. Stephen Mitchell and Gregory Nagy, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2000), 99–102. 10  Lord, The Singer of Tales, 105. 11  Lord, The Singer of Tales, 123.

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each performance only presents a portion of the full tradition surrounding a song.12 As a result, Lord concluded that oral traditions can exist “in multiple forms at the same time, so that no one form represents a more ‘authentic’ or ‘original’ form of that tradition.”13 In a similar vein, the traditional folk song “Who’s Gonna Bring You Chickens When I’m Gone” morphed into different versions each time folk artists re­ created the song through their unique performances. Yet these multiple forms still remained a single song. Other folk artists quickly realized that Dylan’s version was “a nifty variation” of Clayton’s song.14 Clayton’s version updated the lyrics, too, when he substituted chickens with ribbons to make the song more palatable for a mainstream audience. Moreover, Clayton introduced a “breakup” theme into the lyrics—a theme that eventually dominated Dylan’s version. According to Clayton’s lyrics, the speaking persona leaves his lover for railroad work. In Abbot’s version as well, the speaker leaves because he has been sentenced to forced labor on a country farm. Dylan’s song, however, begins after the ending of a relationship: the speaking persona moves on (down life’s metaphorical road) because the relationship was unfulfilling. A traveling job has nothing to do with it. In short, both Clayton and Dylan recreated a traditional folk song. As a result, similar to oral-traditional songs, one would be hard pressed to identify the most original form of this song. This especially holds true for subsequent cover performances. Over time, Dylan’s version entered the halls of Americana when it was covered by the likes of Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard (as a duet), Johnny Cash, Elvis Presley, Waylon Jennings, and Dolly Parton, to name a few, who each put their unique spin on this traditional folk song. In the line, “It ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, baby,” for example, which one of the following variants of the word “baby,” I wonder, is most original? Is it Clayton’s “darlin,” Dylan’s “babe,” Johnny Cash’s “baby,” or Elvis Presley’s “girl”? Also, we should not neglect the oldest variant “ba-beh.”15 At this point, it seems almost absurd to speak of secondary accretions to the original lyrics. Each of these variations works well within the artist’s own version. “In a sense,” to return to Lord’s notion of multiformity, “each performance is ‘an’ original, if not ‘the’ original.”16 The point I wish to emphasize is that oral-traditional songs change over time. As a consequence, variations are not invasive to a so-called original 12  Lord, The Singer of Tales, 100–101, 122–23. 13  Rafael Rodríguez, Oral Tradition and the New Testament (London: Bloomsbury, 2014), 24. 14  Spitz, Dylan, 200. 15  Abbot, Eight Negro Songs, 6. 16  Lord, The Singer of Tales, 101.

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text of the song. Moreover, like oral tradition, the multiformity of folk songs leads inexorably to an indeterminate manuscript tradition (mouvance). The written texts of any two performances are rarely the same. In this sense, perhaps it is helpful to think of oral-traditional texts like jazz standards—musical compositions widely performed, recorded, and known by musicians and enthusiasts alike. Similar to folk songs (and cover songs), jazz standards exist in several authentic forms at once. But few musicians would argue their renditions represent the full musical tradition surrounding a specific standard or cover. No one rendition is therefore more “original” than another because each performance is an artist’s unique take on a standard, a take adapting the tradition according to one’s distinctive talents and tastes, let alone the preferences of one’s audience.17 Harry Connick Jr.’s swinging, New Orleans jazz rendition of “Fly Me to the Moon,” for example, is just as original as Frank Sinatra’s classic, big band version. These modern analogies of folk music and jazz standards are helpful inasmuch as they elucidate what folklorists and media critics mean by the term “multiformity.” But it only takes us so far concerning multiformity in the Dead Sea Scrolls because there are salient differences between modern recordings of music and ancient performances of scrolls. The most obvious difference is that ancient performance was always live (not recorded). This fact is crucial because it inevitably leads to even greater degrees of multiformity. No two performances of a single text are exactly alike, even if the text itself has not changed. With a voice recording, however, the performance—like printed media—remains frozen and infinitely repeatable.18 Even more problematic, we have no way to access the actual oral performance of ancient scrolls. We cannot hear the multiformity of the Scrolls through the minute (and expansive) variations of how they were actually spoken and performed. The Dead Sea Scrolls were not transmitted to us in voice and text, as they would have been in ancient Jewish society, but in written texts alone. Despite this state of affairs, the concepts of scribal performance and scribal memory can illuminate the multiformity of the Dead Sea Scrolls. On the one hand, scribes generated multiformity when they integrated oral performance into their written copies. During each act of reproduction, they “re-performed” 17  The performer, in the words of Ruth Finnegan, is at all times “aware of the need to speak in accordance with the demands of his audience” (Literacy and Orality: Studies in the Technology of Communication [Oxford: Blackwell, 1988], 69). 18  Concerning the difference between live and recorded performance, see John Miles Foley, Oral Tradition and the Internet: Pathways of the Mind (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2012), 18.

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a text and became like the performers who sang them.19 In this sense, ancient scrolls are not simply written copies but also records of how scrolls were spoken and read in antiquity. Moving back and forth between the spoken form of a text and their written copy of a text, some scribes integrated the oral register of language into the written text. On the other hand, scribes generated multiformity when they integrated their memory of the text itself into written copies. “The performance of the text,” according to Raymond F. Person, “was often based on the scribe’s memory of the text, and the copying of the text was influenced significantly by the scribe’s memory of the text.”20 As a consequence, ancient scrolls are not simply oral or written mediums but also mediums for scribal memory. By the phrase “medium for memory,” I intend to convey the means by which memory was stored, constructed, and communicated. Scrolls stored the long- and short-term memories of scribes about how texts were understood and read in antiquity, and they functioned as reference points for performance and memorization. 1

Scribal Memory and Scribal Performance

The concepts of scribal memory and scribal performance have already been recognized by some Scrolls scholars, but they have not been sufficiently integrated into mainstream scholarship.21 According to George J. Brooke’s insightful observation, for example, In whatever way scribal processes are construed, in any particular manuscript only one scribe, or perhaps only one scribe at a time, can hold the pen and craft the text. In other words, there has to be a place for the activity of the individual scribe…. All that means that an individual mind—what it remembers, how it articulates and rearticulates what it remembers, how it functions—needs to be considered as part of the process of transmission (and development) of authoritative traditions.22

19  Concerning scribal performance, see A. N. Doane, “The Ethnography of Scribal Writing and Anglo-Saxon Poetry: Scribe as Performer,” OrTr 9 (1994): 420–36, esp. 420–23. 20  Raymond F. Person, “Scribal Memory,” DBAM 352–55, esp. 354. 21  For a brief overview of previous scholarship, see §4.2 below. 22  George J. Brooke, Reading the Dead Sea Scrolls: Essays in Method, EJL 39 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2013), 54.

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According to Brooke, three important parts of the transmission process should not be overlooked: scribal activity, scribal memory, and the processes and systems of scribal memory. Each of these parts merits unpacking. First, Brooke suggests that scribal activity needs to be considered as part of the transmission process. Concerning this point, Brooke’s subsequent explanation is helpful: An understanding of scribes as copyists, perhaps mere copyists, belongs in a world in which the precise forms of written texts have come to be normative in some way. However, in an earlier period, which we might label “precanonical,” in which there is still a substantial place for orality, in processes of both memorization and transmission, there is also room for the toleration of textual variety, even contradictions.23 In a nutshell, Brooke advocates for a less definitive distinction between scribes and authors.24 In my opinion as well, scribes in antiquity did not simply copy texts, mechanically duplicating them like automatons. Indeed, scribes are more like performers than bots—autonomous programs (on the Internet) designed to flawlessly repeat specific tasks.25 As a result, according to Brooke’s formulation, “there is room for the toleration of textual variety, even contradiction.” Although I wholeheartedly agree with Brooke, I would add one nuance to his statement. In the oral-written context of ancient Judaism, scribal activity did not simply allow for textual plurality; rather, it created textual plurality and changed the manuscript tradition.26 Before I explain this process, however, we must first consider the content of scribal memory. According to Brooke’s second suggestion, scribal memory—what the scribe remembers—should also be considered as a part of transmission and development of authoritative texts. But what, exactly, does an ancient scribe remember during the copying process? The term scribal memory, according to 23  Brooke, Reading the Dead Sea Scrolls, 55. 24  See also Brooke’s discussion about the demise of the distinction between higher and lower criticism (Reading the Dead Sea Scrolls, 1–17). 25  In the words of Doane, scribes have “a status analogous to performers of traditional verbal art” (“Scribe as Performer,” 421). 26  David Andrew Teeter, Scribal Laws: Exegetical Variation in the Textual Transmission of Biblical Law in the Late Second Temple Period, FAT 92 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 7–11. “To varying extents,” as pointed out by David Andrew Teeter, “scribes … became participants—however minor—in the ongoing process of scriptural formation and reception. The textual pluriformity characteristic of this period, then, is not merely the result of careless copying, but also of active interpretive engagement within the process of transmission” (Scribal Laws, 9–10).

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Person, refers “narrowly to the knowledge of traditional texts held in the collective memory of scribes and, more broadly, to the impact of such knowledge on the biblical writings and their manuscript traditions.”27 First and foremost, as Person’s definition indicates, scribal memory includes texts. This seemingly mundane observation cannot be overstated. While manuscripts provide a reference point for recitation, memorization, or copying, they are not the sole medium of texts. In fact, as pointed out by Alan Kirk, traditional texts existed primarily in the minds of ancient scribes.28 Orbiting around the texts themselves, two additional elements constitute scribal memory: performance and tradition. Performance includes ways of reading or writing texts, as well as variations in a text’s performance. Tradition, on the other hand, includes traditional associations of words and traditional interpretations of texts. Some of this tradition derives from the scribe’s cultural memory.29 Other parts of this tradition are bound to the text’s performance arena, the literal and figurative place of a text’s performance, where words, phrases, and entire passages are endued with emergent and nonliteral meanings.30 This understanding of “what” the scribe remembers has an important implication for textual plurality in ancient Judaism. As both Richard Bauman and John Miles Foley have argued, performance and tradition are emergent and dynamic.31 According to Foley’s definition, for example, tradition is “a dynamic, multivalent body of meaning that preserves much that a group has invented and transmitted but which also includes as necessary, defining features both an inherent indeterminacy and a predisposition to various kinds of changes or modifications.”32 As a consequence, textual traditions that contain scribal memories (of tradition and performance) are in a constant state of flux. In other words, to return to my assertion above, scribal memory creates textual plurality. Moreover, the multiple forms of oral traditions and the dynamic 27  Person, “Scribal Memory,” 352. 28  Alan Kirk, “Manuscript Tradition as A Tertium Quid: Orality and Memory in Scribal Practices,” in Jesus, the Voice, and the Text: Beyond the Oral and Written Gospel, ed. Tom Thatcher (Waco: Baylor University Press, 2008), 215–34. According to Kirk, “the work itself existed most pristinely and authentically in its memory version and its corollary oral and aural expression…. The manuscript was ancillary; it was the visual, material support—an external ‘reference point’—for the primary existence and transmission of the text in the medium of memory” (“Orality and Memory in Scribal Practices,” 219). 29  For a discussion of cultural memory, see Chapter 5 §3 above. 30  Richard Bauman, Verbal Art as Performance (Prospect Heights: Waveland Press, 1984), 9–11; John Miles Foley, The Singer of Tales in Performance (Indiana: Indiana University Press, 1995), 8, 42–49. 31  Bauman, Verbal Art as Performance, 37–45; Foley, The Singer of Tales in Performance, 1–7. 32  Foley, The Singer of Tales in Performance, xii.

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nature of oral performance inevitably lead to an unfixed text and manuscript tradition (mouvance). To be sure, shifting oral tradition to writing stabilizes it dramatically. But the increased stabilization of written oral tradition does not equate to identical copies. As pointed out by A. N. Doane, neither oral texts nor oral traditions can “be glimpsed as a fixed object.”33 According to Brooke’s third suggestion, the processes and systems of scribal memory—how the mind of the scribe remembers (i.e., “articulates and re­ articulates what it remembers”) and functions—needs to be considered as a part of transmission and development of authoritative texts.34 This is at once the most difficult and the most interesting part of scribal memory. It is also the topic of this chapter. In order to explore this thorny aspect of scribal memory, however, I need to use a more sophisticated definition of memory. More specifically, I will situate scribal memory within two broad memory systems of psychology’s most dominant model of memory—namely long- and short-term memory.35 In particular, I examine how the multiformity of certain scribal practices actually reflects the episodic and the working memory systems of the ancient scribes who copied the Dead Sea Scrolls. 2

Long-Term Memory

At the outset, I should dispel a possible misimpression my overarching argument may create. Memory is not a variety of discrete, isolated, or independent systems but rather an array of interdependent, interactive systems that function together as a whole. According to Alan Baddeley, a leading authority on memory, memory does not comprise a single unitary system, but rather an array of interacting systems, each capable of encoding or registering information, storing it, and making it available for retrieval.36

33  A. N. Doane, “Oral Texts, Intertexts, and Intratexts: Editing Old English,” in Influence and Intertextuality in Literary History, ed. Jay Clayton and Eric Rothstein (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1991), 75–113, esp. 78. 34  Brooke, Reading the Dead Sea Scrolls, 54. 35  For an overview of long- and short-term memory, see Marti J. Steussy, “Long-Term/ Short-Term Memory,” DBAM 210–12. 36  Alan Baddeley, Essentials of Human Memory (Classic Edition), (Psychology Press: London, 2014), 18.

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Consequentially, the specific scribal practices discussed below are not exclusive to any specific category of memory, such as episodic or working memory. Rather, my organization is intended to highlight a few ways in which different memory systems could have contributed to multiformity in the Dead Sea Scrolls. In this section, for example, I examine the origin of conflicting spacing techniques and divergent textual versions in the Dead Sea Scrolls. In short, I argue that different (1) versions of compositions and (2) spacing within compositions represent scribes’ episodic memory. In some cases, a scribe’s episodic memory of shifting reading practices and divergent textual traditions contributes to multiformity. But this does not mean that other types of memory did not also contribute to the development of various spacings or versions of texts. Long- and short-term memory, as pointed out by Marti J. Steussy, “are used to differentiate the temporary holding of information in personal awareness (short-term memory) from its storage for later recall (long-term memory).”37 What we generally think of as memory is actually a certain type of long-term memory called “explicit” or “declarative” memory, a memory system that is deliberately used “to produce a clear, conscious answer to some query.”38 This memory system includes both “episodic” and “semantic” memories, both (1) memories of specific events including those of our own lives and (2) general knowledge about the world learned through repeated exposure to the information, respectively.39 Another important type of memory system within long-term memory is called “procedural” memory, a memory system that controls the body’s mastery of a physical routine (often called muscle memory).40 In addition to these long-term memory systems, there are other important basic types of human memory, such as sensory memory and working memory (see below).

37  Steussy, “Long-Term/Short-Term Memory,” 210. 38  Steve Joordens, Memory and the Human Lifespan: Course Guidebook (Chantilly: The Great Courses, 2011), 104. See also Joseph LeDoux, Synaptic Self: How Our Brains Become Who We Are (New York: Penguin, 2002), 97–108; Baddeley, Essentials of Human Memory, 16–18. 39  Baddeley, Essentials of Human Memory, 16; Joordens, Memory and the Human Lifespan, 108. For an in-depth explanation, see Endel Tulving, “Episodic Memory: From Mind to Brain,” ARP 53 (2002): 1–25; idem, Elements of Episodic Memory, OPS 2 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1983), 8–11, 17–31. 40  LeDoux, Synaptic Self, 102–3, 116–19; Joordens, Memory and the Human Lifespan, 107.

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Episodic Memory

Broadly speaking, episodic memory is consciously accessible general information about particular events in our own lives. That being said, episodic memory does not necessarily contain memories of our personal experience. Episodic memory also includes observable events and hypothetical constructs, as well as our personal memories of others.41 Personal memory describes “the capacity of individuals to remember and describe events, individuals and experiences from the past, either personal past or collective past of a larger group, the latter including stuff not directly experienced.”42 Moreover, episodic memory does not necessarily mirror objective reality. For example, it can contain memories of events that never took place—fictive episodes occurring only in the human mind.43 As Daniel L. Schacter has forcefully demonstrated, memory is susceptible to suggestibility, bias, and cross-contamination.44 Our memories of past events can incorporate misleading information, blend together with similar experiences, and become distorted by our unconscious biases and present knowledge to form false memories.45 Therefore, memory should not be misconstrued for reality. In short, scribal memories contain both fact and fiction. 3.1 Spacing Techniques Before explaining the relationship between spacing techniques and scribal memory, I should first explain what I mean by “spacing techniques.” As I previously discussed, the vast majority of the Dead Sea Scrolls are written in a “continuous script” without spacing or punctuation between lines. In Chapter 3, I discussed one example of a spacing technique called stichography, which divides a text into poetic lines (i.e., line-writing) with spacing, margins, and column lineation. It should be kept in mind, however, that there are many other types of spacing techniques exhibited in the Scrolls. A spacing technique denotes any systematic use of spacing between poetic units, such as half-lines, lines (monocolon, bicolon, tricolon, etc.), strophes, stanzas, or larger literary units (e.g., compositions). The spacing of 4QPsc (4Q85) offers a good illustration of the variety of spacing techniques displayed in the Dead Sea Scrolls, because it exhibits two stichographic systems as well as five other spacing techniques. Concerning 41  Tulving, Elements of Episodic Memory, 11. 42  Robert K. McIver, “Cognitive/Personal Memory,” DBAM 53–55, esp. 53. 43  Daniel L. Schacter, The Seven Sins of Memory: How the Mind Forget and Remembers (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2001), 88–111. 44  Schacter, The Seven Sins of Memory, 112–60. 45  Schacter, The Seven Sins of Memory, 113, 138–39.

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figure 17 4QPsc (4Q85) I–III IAA Plate 312, frg. 21 (=PAM 43.156)

stichography, the first two columns in the facsimile of 4QPsc (4Q85) below display a system of two cola per column line with a vacat between cola. In the third column, however, scribes utilize a running stichography with vacats between various numbers of cola that extend across margins. Concerning other spacing techniques, as summarized by Eugene Ulrich, scribes used: (1) “a short interval … between cola,” (2) “a somewhat longer interval between verses or cola,” (3) “an indentation at the beginning of a new line before a new colon,” (4) “a half-line indentation on the new line to signal the beginning of a new Psalm,” and (5) “a full blank line between successive Psalms.”46 In my estimation, these various types of spacing within the same composition reflect reading concerns. The short and somewhat longer intervals between cola, for example, probably cue pauses in performance between poetic units, signaling how to read each psalm. And full blank lines or half-line indentations between psalms prevent miscuing the beginning or overrunning the ending of discrete psalms. Overall, 4QPsc (4Q85) demonstrates that scribes used a variety of spacing within psalms scrolls to signal different grades of disjunction, such as a quick pause between poetic units or a full stop between psalms. Or, if we consider spacing from the perspective of memory, scribes incorporated their memories of how psalms were written and performed. We should bear in mind that the 46  Eugene Ulrich et al., Qumran Cave 4.XI: Psalms to Chronicles, DJD 16 (Oxford: Clarendon, 2000), 51. For short intervals between cola, see the vacats between cola throughout the second column. For somewhat longer intervals between verse or cola, see the space in the middle of the third column (4QPsc [4Q85] III 15 iii+17 28). For a half-line indentation of a new line for the beginning of a new Psalm, see the indentation after the word ‫אלוהים‬ toward the bottom of the second column (4QPsc [4Q85] II 15 ii 29). A full blank line between successive Psalms is reconstructed on top of the first column.

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ancient Jewish scribes who wrote (copied) these psalms probably also read and sang them during study and worship. Thus, during the copying process, they would have naturally recalled their episodic memories of psalms. These memories could have included both (1) their personal experiences of particular events in their life in which psalms were written or read and (2) indirect experiences and general information about the world concerning how psalms were written or read. Even more importantly, scribes sometimes incorporated, both consciously and unconsciously, some of these episodic memories into their copies. Another example of the nexus between scribal memory and spacing is related to the multiformity of stichographic systems in the Dead Sea Scrolls. In Chapter 3, I surveyed the oral-written functions of stichography. Here, however, I would like to consider stichography from the perspective of scribal memory. Stichographic texts are arranged in a bewildering array of manners, usually with inconsistencies in stichographic systems.47 What gives rise to this multiformity? Similar to other spacing techniques, the multiformity of stichographic systems can be traced to scribal episodic memory of the different ways in which stichographic poetry was read by ancient Jews. Notwithstanding the scrolls discovered in the vicinity of Qumran such as Naḥal Ḥever or Masada (i.e., 5/6 HevPs, MasPsa, MasPsb, and MasSir), the table below details every stichographic arrangement in the Dead Sea Scrolls. As the chart displays, biblical books and passages are arranged in multiple manners. This diversity is typical of texts copied and transmitted in oralwritten contexts in which writing, speech, and memory interface with one another. Moreover, the multiformity of stichographic systems results from the shifting contexts in which ancient Jews read and used biblical poetry. In other words, variations and inconsistencies between stichographic systems represent the wide variety of manners in which biblical poetry was performed by ancient Jews and remembered by ancient scribes. The majority of stichographically arranged poetry in the Dead Sea Scrolls occurs in biblical texts. As a consequence, stichographic texts do not simply reflect the reading practices of sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls but should also be traced to the broader ancient Jewish world. Moreover, we can safely assume that all ancient Jews living during the Second Temple period neither read nor remembered Scripture in homogeneous manners. Over time and between communities, conventions of oral performance changed, leading to different scribal memories and eventually to different stichographic arrangements. 47  For a detailed discussion, see Shem Miller, “Multiformity of Stichographic Systems in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” RevQ 29 (2017): 219–45.

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chapter 6 Types of stichography in the Dead Sea Scrolls

Item #

Content

Types of stichography displayed

1Q5 1Q10 1Q38 2Q18 3Q3 4Q29 4Q30 4Q44 4Q45 4Q84

Deut 32 Ps 119, 92, 94, 96 nonbiblical Ben Sira 6 Lam 1, 3 Deut 32 Deut 32 Deut 32 Deut 32 Ps 91–118

4Q85

Ps 16–53

4Q86 4Q89 4Q90 4Q93 4Q98f 4Q99 4Q100 4Q101 4Q102 4Q103

Ps 104 Ps 119 Ps 119 Ps 104 Ps 112 Job 31–37 Job 8–14 Job 13–14 Prov 1–2 Prov 9, 13–15

4Q365 4Q424 4Q521 4Q525 5Q5 5Q7 5Q16 8Q2 11Q5 11Q6

Exod 15 nonbiblical nonbiblical nonbiblical Ps 119 Lam 4 nonbiblical Ps 17–18 Ps 119 Ps 119

four cola per column line without vacats a) two cola per column line usually without vacats b) two cola per column line without vacats too little information two cola per column line possibly with vacats six cola per column line without vacats two cola per column line without vacats one colon per column line one to two cola per column line without vacats usually two cola per column line without vacats a) one colon per column line b) two cola per column line separated by vacats a) usually two cola per column line separated by vacats b) running: varying vacats and cola per column line one colon per column line two cola per column line without vacats two cola per column line without vacats one colon per column line four cola per column line without vacats usually two cola per column line without vacats usually two cola per column line without vacats usually two cola per column line without vacats two cola per column line separated by vacats a) two cola per column line separated by vacats b) running: varying vacats and cola per column line running: varying vacats and cola per column line running: varying vacats and cola per column line one to three cola per column line without vacats running: varying vacats and cola per column line two cola per column line usually without vacats four cola per column line without vacats two cola per column line separated by vacats two cola per column line usually separated by vacats two cola per column line without vacats two cola per column line separated by vacats

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3.2 Versions Spacing techniques are not the only way in which ancient scrolls reflect the episodic memory of scribes. As other possible examples, we could consider exegetical texts or recensional activity. In this section, I will explore the latter avenue of inquiry. In particular, I will examine how the concept of scribal memory can improve our understanding of the multiple forms of specific compositions in the Dead Sea Scrolls. The first example of recensional activity discussed below occurs in the so-called Self-Glorification Hymn, a hymn in the Hodayot that describes the speaker exalting himself as someone standing with the heavenly angels.48 The second example occurs in the hypothetical Zadokite recension, a revision of the Community Rule that privileges Zadokite leadership above other leadership groups.49 Although I use the term “recension” below, I prefer the term “version.” A version, according to the The Oxford American College Dictionary, is “a particular form of something [in this case, a composition] differing in certain respects from an earlier form or other forms of the same type of thing.”50 Although scholars sometimes use the term “recension” to describe a textual tradition (or even a text), a recension, according to Emanuel Tov, primarily denotes a text type.51 And a text type, as Ulrich correctly observes, is “a relatively large set of manuscripts that display general agreement despite differences in details.”52 With these connotations in mind, the term recension is misleading because 48  Scholarly treatment of the Self-Glorification Hymn is too voluminous to recapitulate here. For a concise bibliography of studies, see Angela Kim Harkins, Reading with an “I” to the Heavens: Looking at the Qumran Hodayot through the Lens of Visionary Traditions, Ekstasis 3 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2012), 12 n.29. For a brief review of scholarship, see Eric Miller, “The Self-Glorification Hymn Reexamined,” Henoch 31 (2009): 307–24, esp. 307–17. For a description of the angelic liturgy, see Esther G. Chazon, “Human and Angelic Prayer in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Liturgical Perspectives: Prayer and Poetry in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Proceedings of the Fifth International Symposium of the Orion Center for the Study of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Associated Literature, 19–23 January, 2000, ed. Esther G. Chazon, Ruth A. Clements, and Avital Pinnick, STDJ 48 (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 35–47; Devorah Dimant, “Men as Angels: The Self-Image of the Qumran Community,” in Religion and Politics in the Ancient Near East, ed. Adele Berlin, STJHC 1 (Bethesda: University of Maryland, 1996), 93–103. 49  For a bibliography of scholarship on the Zadokite recension, see Charlotte Hempel, The Qumran Rule Texts in Context: Collected Studies, TSAJ 154 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 39 n.63. 50  Christine A. Lindberg et al., eds., The Oxford American College Dictionary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 1568. 51  Emanuel Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 3rd ed. (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2012), 155. 52  Eugene Ulrich, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Origins of the Bible (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 95.

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the examples of recensional activity discussed below occur in a relatively small set of manuscripts. Even more importantly, as I will explain below, the term “version” is preferable because the recensional activity discussed below should not be exclusively linked with written texts.53 According to Eileen M. Schuller, the Hodayot show “virtually no evidence of sustained recensional activity that is theologically or ideologically motivated.”54 A comparison of overlapping portions between manuscripts of the Hodayot shows that—despite variations at the level of orthography, morphology, and verbal forms—“the text is remarkably stable and consistent.”55 The Self-Glorification Hymn, however, is an exception to Schuller’s general description. In addition to the incomplete account in 1QHa 25:34–26:42, the Self-Glorification Hymn is partially extant in three badly damaged Cave 4 Hodayot manuscripts (4QHa [4Q427] 7 i 6–23, 7 ii 3–23; 4QHb [4Q428] 21 1–5; 4QHe [4Q431] 1–2 1–9). More importantly, it has also been identified in two other witnesses, 4Q471b 1–3 1–10 and 4Q491 11 i 8–24 (=4Q491c 1 1–17), which both contain minor and major variations in overlapping material when compared to the Cave 1 and Cave 4 Hodayot manuscripts. The most remarkable variations occur in 4Q491, fragment 11, (=4Q491c, fragment 1), some of which are so significant that they led Esther Eshel to identify two different recensions of this hymn: (1) “Recension A,” which is found in three Hodayot manuscripts (1QHa 25:34–27:3; 4QHa [4Q427] 7 i+9; 4QHe [4Q431] 1 1–9) and 4Q471b 1–3 1–10, and (2) “Recension B,” which is witnessed by a single manuscript, 4Q491 11 i 8–24 (=4Q491c 1 1–17).56 Extensive work has been done on comparing these two versions and identifying their textual relationship.57 Overall, scholars have focused on two possibilities: direct dependence or

53  Cf. Tov’s “text types,” “textual traditions,” or “texts” (Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 155). 54  Eileen M. Schuller, “Recent Scholarship on the Hodayot 1993–2010,” CBR 10 (2011): 119–62, esp. 131. There are a total of eight copies of the Hodayot, two from Cave 1 (1QHa–b) and six from Cave 4 (4QHa–e, 4QpapHf), none of which are complete. 55  Schuller, “Recent Scholarship on the Hodayot,” 131. 56  Esther Eshel, “4Q471B: A Self-Glorification Hymn,” RevQ 17 (1996): 175–203, esp. 189. 57  Devorah Dimant, “A Synoptic Comparison of Parallel Sections in 4Q427 7, 4Q491 11 and 4Q471B,” JQR 85 (1994): 157–61; Michael Owen Wise, “‫מי כמוני באלים‬: A Study of 4Q491c, 4Q471b, 4Q427 7 and 1QHA 25:35–26:10,” DSD 7 (2000): 173–219; John J. Collins and Devorah Dimant, “A Thrice-Told Hymn: A Response to Eileen M. Schuller,” JQR 85 (1994): 151–55.

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common source.58 Although Eshel’s article does not take a firm stand, Michael Owen Wise’s subsequent study argues for the former option.59 Florentino García Martínez, however, has questioned this bifold paradigm with a third possibility.60 Instead of recensions that somehow relate to a common source, the different versions should be understood independently from each other.61 “In my opinion,” according to García Martínez, an analysis of the common elements—the shared phraseology and related expressions in both compositions—but also of their obvious differences, does not allow us to conclude that we are dealing with two genetically related compositions. Neither can be explained by the other. Nor can either be explained by an assumed common ancestor. The “recension” idea cannot be applied in this case, at least not if we give it the meaning the word carries in the disciplines of textual and literary criticism where it originated.62 Part of the problem, as he points out, is that Recension B (i.e., 4Q491 11) is not a single hymn but rather two separate compositions—a fact that is clearly indicated by a blank line in 4Q491 11 i 19 (=4Q491c 1 12).63 These separate hymns were first identified as fragments of the War Scroll by the editor of 4Q491, Maurice Baillet, who titled them the “Canticle of Michael” (4Q491 11 i 8–18 [=4Q491c 1 1–11]) and the “Canticle of the Righteous” (4Q491 11 i 20–24 [=4Q491c 1 13–17]).64 Moreover, as García Martínez’s comparison of the two hymns in 4Q491 with the Self-Glorification Hymn in the Hodayot manuscripts forcefully demonstrates, 58  According to Eshel, for example, “the interrelationship between the texts might be explained by the direct dependence of one text on another, with one being copied from another, or all might have been copied from a common source” (“A Self-Glorification Hymn,” 189). 59  Wise, “‫מי כמוני באלים‬,” 214. Wise tentatively proposes three stages of redaction beginning with 4Q491c (“‫מי כמוני באלים‬,” 215–16). 60  Florentino García Martínez, Qumranica Minora I: Qumran Origins and Apocalypticism, ed. Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar, STDJ 63 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 105–26. 61  García Martínez, Qumranica Minora I, 111–18. See also Kim Harkins, Reading with an “I” to the Heavens, 51–52. 62  García Martínez, Qumranica Minora I, 115–16. 63  García Martínez, Qumranica Minora I, 111 n.28. 64  Maurice Baillet, Qumrân Grotte 4.III (4Q482–4Q520), DJD 7 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1982), 26–30. John J. Collins and Devorah Dimant have also emphasized that the Canticle of the Righteous is a separate hymn from the rest of the Self-Glorification Hymn; nonetheless, they still identify the remainder of 4Q491 11 i (i.e., the “Canticle of Michael”) as being another version of the Self-Glorification Hymn found in the Hodayot manuscripts (“A Thrice-Told Hymn,” 153).

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these hymns are “clearly different”65 and do not “have a generic relationship to the hymn preserved in the Hodayot manuscripts.”66 A synoptic comparison of a passage near the end of the Self-Glorification Hymn illustrates the types of variations that are typical of tradition transmitted by memory. table 36

A synoptic comparison of 4Q491, 4Q471b, and 4Q427a

4Q491 11 i 18 ‫[כ]יא אניא עם אלים‬ ‫אחש[ב ו]כבודי‬ ‫עם בני המלך‬ ‫לוא [פ]ז‬ ‫ולו[א] כתם אופירים‬

4Q471b 1a–d 8–9 ‫כי א[ני עם אלים‬ ‫מעמדי וכבודי‬ ‫עם בני המלך‬ ‫לוא] בפז‬ ‫(א)כת[יר לי‬ ]‫וכתם אופירים‬

4Q427 7 i 11–12 ‫כ[י]א אני עמ אלימ‬ ‫מעמד[י וכבוד או הד]ר‬ ‫לא בפז‬ ‫אכ[מוס] לי‬ ‫וכתם או ביורימ‬

a The transcription and reconstruction of 4Q491 follows Baillet (DJD 7:27). Cf. also Dimant, “A Synoptic Comparison,” 159; Eshel, “A Self-Glorification Hymn,” 184. As Baillet’s transcription correctly indicates, there is also a small superscripted aleph above the yod in ‫( כבודי‬DJD 7:27). The transcription and reconstruction of 4Q471b follows Eshel. See Esther G. Chazon et al., Qumran Cave 4.XX: Poetical and Liturgical Texts, Part 2, DJD 29 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1999), 428. The transcription of 4Q427 follows Schuller (DJD 29:96). The reconstruction of ‫ מעמד[י וכבוד או הד]ר‬follows Schuller’s suggestion (DJD 29:103). Cf. also Dimant, “A Synoptic Comparison,” 159; Wise, “‫מי כמוני באלים‬,” 203. The reconstruction of ‫ אכ[מוס] לי‬follows Wise (“‫מי כמוני באלים‬,” 203).

A comparison of the three different versions is notoriously difficult on account of their highly fragmentary state. The missing verbs reconstructed above as ]‫ (א)כת[יר‬and ]‫ אחש[ב‬are particularly problematic.67 Even if we exclude hypothetical reconstructions such as these, however, the extant portions support García Martínez’s position. There are obviously some shared expressions.68 But, 65  García Martínez, Qumranica Minora I, 107. 66  García Martínez, Qumranica Minora I, 117; emphasis original. See also idem, “¿Ángel, Hombre, Mesías, Maestro de Justicia? El problemático ‘yo’ de un poema qumránico,” in Plenitudo Temporis: Miscelánea Homenaje al Prof. Dr. Ramón Trevijano Etcheverría, ed. Santiago Guijarro Oporto and Jorge Juan Fernández Sangrador, BibSal 249 (Salamanca: Universidad Pontificia, 2002), 103–31, esp., 115–16. 67  Concerning the reconstruction of ]‫(א)כת[יר‬, see DJD 29:430. Concerning the reconstruction of ]‫אחש[ב‬, see DJD 7:27. But cf. Wise’s alternative suggestion of ]‫מי כמוני“( מעמ[די‬ ‫באלים‬,” 182). 68  E.g., (1) ‫( כ[י]א אני עמ אלימ‬4Q427) // ‫( [כ]יא אניא עם אלים‬4Q491); (2) ]‫( מעמד[י‬4Q427) // ‫( מעמדי‬4Q471b); (3) ‫( וכבודי‬4Q471b) // ‫( [ו]כבודי‬4Q491); (4) ‫( עם בני המלך‬4Q471b) //

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table 37

Translations of 4Q491 11 i 18, 4Q471b 1a–d 8–9, and 4Q427 7 i 11–12a

4Q491

[Fo]r I shall be reckon[ed] with angels, [and] my glory with the sons of kings rather than [go]ld o[r] precious stones. For I [am with the angels. My station and my glory is with the sons of the King. Neither] with gold will (I) cro[wn myself, nor with refined gold]. For my station is with the angels. I have not laid up for myself [glory and hon]or at the price of gold, nor of fine gold.

4Q471b 4Q427

a The translation of 4Q491 is from Eshel, “A Self-Glorification Hymn,” 185, with minor modifications. The translation of 4Q471b is mine. The translation of 4Q427 is from Wise, “‫מי כמוני‬ ‫באלים‬,” 203.

as the synoptic comparison above displays, there are significant differences between 4Q491, 4Q471b, and 4Q427 in the form of omissions, additions, and substitutions. Overall, it is impossible to determine which variations are the most so-called original. In contrast to the Hodayot, several scholars have recognized recensional activity in the Community Rule that is ideologically motivated. When comparing Cave 4 and Cave 1 copies, for example, scholars quickly noted certain discrepancies in two passages concerning community life (1QS 5:2–3) and admission (1QS 5:8–9). Simply put, the Cave 1 copy of the Community Rule stipulates that initiates must also follow laws revealed to the general membership and the Zadokite priests (cf. 1QS 5:7c–9a), whereas two Cave 4 copies only mention the general membership (i.e., 4QSb [4Q256] and 4QSd [4Q258]).69 Géza Vermes proposed that these discrepancies mirror historical developments from democratic to Zadokite leadership.70 “The many,” according to this theory, governed ‫( עם בני המלך‬4Q491); (5) ‫( [לוא] בפז‬4Q471b) // ‫( לא בפז‬4Q427); (6) and ‫וכתם או ביורימ‬ (4Q427) // ‫( ולו[א] כתם אופירים‬4Q491). 69  More specifically, according to the Cave 1 copy of the Community Rule, the “sons of Zadok” share authority with “the many.” Two Cave 4 copies of the these passages in Community Rule (4QSb,d), however, lack reference to the “sons of Zadok” (cf. 4QSb [4Q256] IX 2–8; 4QSd [4Q258] I 2–7). For the text and translation of the parallel passages in 4QSb (4Q256) and 4QSd (4Q258), see Donald W. Parry and Emanuel Tov, eds., The Dead Sea Scrolls Reader, Part 1: Texts Concerned with Religious Law (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 42–43, 48–49. For a discussion of this variant reading, see Charlotte Hempel, “Community Structures in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Admission, Organization, Disciplinary Procedures,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls after Fifty Years: A Comprehensive Assessment, ed. Peter W. Flint and James C. VanderKam, 2 vols. (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 2:67–92, esp. 82–84. 70  Józef Milik first proposed that 4QSb,d represent an earlier form of the Community Rule than 1QS. According to Milik, “Dans le deux mss. [i.e., 4QSb,d] elle [i.e., Column V] présente une forme plus brève et sans doute plus primitive que celle de 1QS.” See Józef T. Milik,

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during the earlier stages of the community (as per the earlier omission of “sons of Zadok” in 4QSb,d), whereas the Zadokite priests overthrew the power of “the many” at some point in the history of the sect (as per the later addition of the “sons of Zadok” in 1QS). Alison Schofield and others, however, have set forth robust challenges to this theory.71 First, the theory of a Zadokite coup is based on a hypothesized textual history of the Community Rule, which asserts that 4QSb,d are earlier than 1QS.72 Moreover, assuming this textual history is correct, the earlier Cave 4 copies are not consistently more egalitarian than the later Cave 1 copy of the Community Rule. According to 1QS 5:20b–24a, for example, the “sons of Aaron” and “the many” make final admission decisions. But the supposedly earlier, more democratic Cave 4 version of this passage also includes the “sons of Aaron” (4QSd [4Q258] II 1–2).73 Second, and more problematic, this historical reconstruction is based on text-critical evaluations of the “original” readings. Since the publication of the Cave 4 copies of the Community Rule, scholars sought to understand the “original” readings, identify variants, and determine later redactions. Subsequently, scholars reconstructed parts of the sect’s history based on the earlier “original” readings and their later adaptations (variants). In this case, however, internal inconsistencies in the Community Rule make this methodology highly problematic. As Charlotte Hempel—a proponent of the theory of a Zadokite recension—has acknowledged, for example, a close reading of 1QS and 4QS manuscripts reveals contradictions and inconsistencies “within one and the same manuscript” regarding the authority of

“Le travail d’édition des fragments manuscrits de Qumrân,” RB 63 (1956): 49–67, esp. 61. Géza Vermes subsequently developed the theory of a Zadokite coup based on this chronological relationship between 4QSb,d and 1QS. See Géza Vermes, “The Leadership of the Qumran Community: Sons of Zadok—Priests—Congregation,” in Geschichte— Tradition—Reflexion: Festschrift für Martin Hengel zum 70. Geburtstag, ed. Hubert Cancik, Hermann Lichtenberger, and Peter Schäfer (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1996), 375–84, esp. 380–81. This theory has been adopted and further developed by a number of scholars. For example, see Charlotte Hempel, “Interpretive Authority in the Community Rule Tradition,” DSD 10 (2003): 59–80, esp. 74–76. 71  Alison Schofield, From Qumran to the Yaḥad: A New Paradigm of Textual Development for the Community Rule, STDJ 77 (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 147–52. See also Philip S. Alexander, “The Redaction-History of Serekh Ha-Yaḥad: A Proposal,” RevQ 17 (1996): 437–53, esp. 450–51. 72  James H. Charlesworth and Brent A. Strawn, “Reflections on the Text of Serekh ha-Yaḥad found in Cave IV,” RevQ 17 (1996): 403–35, esp. 412. 73  Perhaps most perplexing, 1QS 8:26–9:2 contains an added reference to “the many” com­ pared with the presumed more original and more egalitarian Cave 4 version of this same passage (compare 4QSd [4Q258] VII 1–3 with 1QS 8:26–9:2).

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leadership groups.74 Finally, as argued by Schofield, the “sons of Zadok” are usually mentioned alongside a second group, which is roughly synonymous with “the many.”75 According to the subsequent description of admission, for example, the “sons of Aaron” and “the many” make final admission decisions (1QS 5:20b–24a).76 3.3 Memory as a Multi-Stem Tree How can the concept of scribal memory clarify these different versions of the Self-Glorification Hymn and the Community Rule in the Dead Sea Scrolls? In essence, the concept of scribal memory reorients our view of versions toward the vantage point of multiformity. Ancient texts encoded in and transmitted by long-term scribal memory exhibit a certain measure of irreducibility, which is represented in their indeterminate manuscript traditions (mouvance). By way of contrast, according to textual criticism, versions are typically viewed genealogically or stemmatically. A family tree of texts is drawn up on the basis of shared variants, with different textual families branching out from an archetypal text, like limbs stemming from the main trunk of a tree. The working assumption of this model is that variants and versions reflect stemmata, which themselves are further reduced to a genealogical ancestor and eventually to a single archetype. While this method of textual reconstruction may be hypothetically tenable, it is practically problematic because it assumes that variants are primarily derived from other texts. In an oral-written context, scribes sometimes incorporate variants from other sources, such as memory, performance, and tradition. Put bluntly, a genealogical approach underplays variants encoded in scribal memory and generated by performance and tradition. The scholarly attempt to define the textual relationship between all the manuscripts containing parts of the so-called Self-Glorification Hymn exemplifies this shortcoming. As García Martínez correctly argues, it is difficult (if not impossible) to establish a stemmatic relationship between all the different

74  Hempel, Qumran Rule Texts, 276. 75  Schofield, From Qumran to the Yaḥad, 151. In sum, Schofield argues, “There is no evidence that the Many supplanted the Zadokites or that the Sons of Zadok overthrew the power of the Many” (From Qumran to the Yaḥad, 152). Instead, according to Schofield, “the many” and the “sons of Zadok” were contemporaneous leadership groups (From Qumran to the Yaḥad, 147). 76  In addition, according to the more elaborate admission procedures in 1QS 6:13b–23, which probably reflect a later period of the sectarian communities, “the priests” and “the many” make final decisions (1QS 6:19).

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versions of this hymn.77 Wise’s assessment of the relationship among 4Q491c, 4Q471b, and 4Q427 7 is emblematic: Theoretically, one might suggest that both redactions modified a third source, and so neither one expanded or abridged the other. But why posit a third source for which there is no evidence? Viewed economically, one of these redactions is a response to the other. To my mind the more probable direction of influence is from 4Q491c to the Hodayot.78 Theoretically, Wise is entirely correct. Both versions could have been based on a third source. Both versions, for instance, could have been based on scribal memory of how this ancient hymn was experienced through liturgical performances and reading practices. But I suspect that this is not the source that Wise has in mind because his theory presupposes a text-centered explanation of variants and versions. In his terms, one redaction is a “response” to another redaction, as if texts speak to texts superorganically. These hymns were likely composed at different times, by different authors, over a long period of time (see below). The multiple forms of this hymn grew organically from an interconnected network of evolving tradition and dynamic performance. This process pictures a different kind of stemmatic tree—one without a single trunk from which all versions sprouted. These “multi-stem” trees, as arborists call them, are actually a cluster of individual trees that happen to be close together.79 The base of the tree (the trunk) actually consists of several fused piths below ground level. Since these stems all share a common central root system and canopy space, they are considered a single large tree. To my mind, these multi-stem trees more closely match the stemmatic tree and textual development of many ancient texts. Each version of the Self-Glorification Hymn, for example, does not branch out from a central unifying trunk, a so-called original text. Instead, these ancient versions were both independent and interconnected, rising organically from a common root system of tradition and performance that was encoded in scribal memory and recorded in written copies. As Angela Kim Harkins has emphasized, the hymns of the Hodayot were “a living prayer collection that grew and changed over time, and not in predictable 77  García Martínez, Qumranica Minora I, 115. 78  Wise, “‫מי כמוני באלים‬,” 214. 79  For examples and photographs of multi-stem trees, see Theresia Bos, ed., “We Are Multi-Stem,” Ebben ID Magazine 3 (2016): 21–29, https://www.ebben.nl/en/ebben -inspyrium-knowledge-centre/ebben-id-magazine/#ebben-id-inspiration-magazine -no-3.

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linear ways.”80 This development is witnessed by (1) the various order and arrangement of manuscripts from Caves 1 and 4 and (2) the various scribal hands and dates of the manuscripts.81 Moreover, as several scholars have already argued, the Self-Glorification Hymn probably originated as an independent composition, which was later incorporated into the Hodayot.82 With these shifting contexts of oral performance in mind, according to Kim Harkins, the multiformity of the Self-Glorification Hymn is perfectly natural: The scholarly concern about the SGH’s [i.e., Self-Glorification Hymn’s] failure to converge into a single ‘normative’ text is problematic because it presumes that textual plurality would not have been tolerated within a literary tradition. However, for a text that is performed, variation is expected.83 To articulate her point slightly differently, the multiformity of the SelfGlorification Hymn reflects scribes’ episodic memory about the different times and places that this hymn was performed. These shifting contexts were encoded into scribes’ episodic memory and eventually incorporated into their copies of the Hodayot. As Philip S. Alexander notes, the alternative versions of the Self-Glorification Hymn suggest that “the hymn was in active use within the community, and that someone felt he had the authority and the experience to vary it.”84 It was this living, dynamic context of oral performance that produced some variants and even multiple versions of some compositions, such as the Self-Glorification Hymn. A similar process took place with the Community Rule, producing the changes underlying the so-called Zadokite recension. As Sarianna Metso’s and Alison Schofield’s studies have amply demonstrated, the Community Rule does not appear to have developed in a chronological, linear manner.85 Instead of being replaced, older forms of the Community Rule continued to 80  Kim Harkins, Reading with an “I” to the Heavens, 271. 81  For an overview of these topics, see Schuller, “Recent Scholarship on the Hodayot,” 122–23, 127–131, 133–35. 82  Wise, “‫מי כמוני באלים‬,” 215; Eshel, “A Self-Glorification Hymn,” 194; Collins and Dimant, “A Thrice-Told Hymn,” 152, 154; Schuller, “Recent Scholarship on the Hodayot,” 146. 83  Kim Harkins, Reading with an “I” to the Heavens, 52. 84  Philip S. Alexander, The Mystical Texts, LSTS 61 (London: T&T Clark, 2006), 89. 85  Alison Schofield, “Rereading S: A New Model of Textual Development in Light of the Cave 4 ‘Serekh’ Copies,” DSD 15 (2008): 96–120, esp. 99–100; Sarianna Metso, The Textual Development of the Qumran Community Rule, STDJ 21 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 30, 310–11. For a brief survey of the prominent theories of textual development, see Sarianna Metso, The Serekh Texts, CQS 9 (London: T&T Clark, 2007), 15–19.

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be copied alongside updated copies. This state of affairs problematizes traditional, stemmatic descriptions of the Community Rule.86 Whether one adopts (1) Vermes and Alexander’s model of four recensions of the Community Rule beginning with 1QS, (2) Metso’s model of a hypothetical original with three interacting, subsequent textual traditions, or (3) Schofield’s model of an early core of shared material that developed in different places and historical periods, the Community Rule seems to have been open to ongoing modification.87 As a result, the contradictions underpinning the Zadokite recension cannot be easily traced back to a specific text, recension, or period within the history of the communities associated with the Scrolls. According to Metso and Schofield, the variations in Rule Texts reflect evolving practices and traditions.88 In Metso’s apposite description, the Community Rule served as both a “record of judicial decisions” and a “report of oral traditions.”89 Or, in Schofield’s more provocative characterization, Rule Texts are “dead texts.”90 By “dead texts,” she intends to communicate the idea that Rule texts are “descriptive” rather than “prescriptive.”91 Similar to Metso, she concludes that Rule Texts contain historical records of changing community praxis, rather than regulations governing the current life of the communities associated with the Scrolls.92 Although I disagree with one detail of Schofield’s argumentation about “dead texts,” her overarching views of textual 86  In past studies, for example, scholars have drawn diametrically opposed viewpoints concerning the relationship of Cave 4 manuscripts to the Cave 1 manuscript of the Community Rule. Alexander, who relies heavily on paleographic dating, argues that the text of 4QSb,d represents a later form of the Community Rule than 1QS, whereas Vermes (following Milik) argues that the Zadokite recension of 4QSb,d represents an earlier form of the Community Rule than 1QS. See Philip S. Alexander, “The Redaction-History of Serekh Ha-Yaḥad,” 437–56; Géza Vermes, “Preliminary Remarks on Unpublished Fragments of the Community Rule from Qumran Cave 4,” JJS 42 (1991): 250–55, esp. 255. More recently, however, they agree that 1QS is the earliest recension of the Community Rule. See Philip S. Alexander and Géza Vermes, Qumran Cave 4.XIX: Serekh Ha-Yaḥad and Two Related Texts, DJD 26 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1998), 12. 87  For a brief description of Schofield’s model, see “Rereading S,” 103–104. For a description of Vermes and Alexander’s model, see DJD 26:9–12. For a description of Metso’s model, see Textual Development, 143–49. 88  Metso, The Serekh Texts, 63–71; Schofield, “Rereading S,” 111–12. 89  Sarianna Metso, “In Search of the Sitz im Leben of the Community Rule,” in The Provo International Conference on the Dead Sea Scrolls: Technological Innovations, New Texts, and Reformulated Issues, ed. Donald W. Parry and Eugene Ulrich, STDJ 30 (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 86–93, esp. 314. See also eadem, The Serekh Texts, 70. 90  Schofield, “Rereading S,” 110. 91  Schofield, “Rereading S,” 110. 92  Schofield, “Rereading S,” 110.

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development make the best sense of the Community Rule’s multiformity.93 Similar to the versions of the Self-Glorification Hymn, variants and even multiple versions in the manuscripts of the Community Rule can be understood as records of scribes’ episodic memory of performance and tradition. In addition to written texts, oral traditions and episodic memories were also a source of textual variation. 4

Short-Term Memory

The Dead Sea Scrolls were also mediums for the short-term memory of ancient scribes. Short-term memory is “a system for storing information over brief intervals of time.”94 Short-term memory is also known as working memory, a memory system used for both temporary storage and as a mental workspace where information from other systems is processed.95 Working memory is actually a collection of processes that the mind uses to keep information accessible for brief periods of time, allowing us to complete mental tasks and solve mental problems. Working memory is also the gateway for encoding information into long-term memory systems, such as semantic memory. Two crucial processes of a scribe’s short-term memory are what psychologists call the “phonological loop” and the “visual-spatial sketchpad.” The phonological loop is the ability to repeat sounds with one’s inner voice, whereas the visual-spatial sketchpad is the ability to explore a mental image of a place or objects in one’s mind.96

93  Schofield bases her argumentation concerning the “descriptive” nature of regulations in Rule Texts on the assumption that contradictory laws could not have been “in effect at the same time” (“Rereading S,” 110). In her view, the “audience” of “1QS and Cave 4 versions” could not “have obeyed competing laws simultaneously” (“Rereading S,” 111–12). This is problematic because it assumes uniform practices within a monolithic community. As Schofield subsequently recognizes and even argues, some editorial and compositional activity in the Community Rule could have originated in different communities (“Rereading S,” 113–16). Or, as Collins also suggests, the different versions of the Community Rule could have served different communities within a larger association. See John J. Collins, Beyond the Qumran Community: The Sectarian Movement of the Dead Sea Scrolls (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 3. In other words, contrary to Schofield’s argumentation about “dead texts,” it is possible for contradictory laws to be “in effect at the same time.” 94  Baddeley, Essentials of Human Memory, 20. 95  Concerning working memory, see Alan Baddeley, “Short Term and Working Memory,” in The Oxford Handbook of Memory, ed. Endel Tulving and Fergus I. M. Craik (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 77–92. 96  Joordens, Memory and the Human Lifespan, 107, 109. Concerning both of these concepts, see Baddeley, Essentials of Human Memory, 46–60.

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Verbatim memory refers to recollections of the exact wording of something that was heard or read.97 For the most part, verbatim memory is limited to sensory memory, another short-term memory system that was crucial for scribal practices. Simply put, sensory memory describes the brain’s ability to temporarily retain an impression of a sensory stimulus.98 Our sensory memory is like a buffer that is constantly storing incoming auditory and visual stimuli for very brief periods of time, allowing the conscious mind to switch attention and evaluate passing stimuli.99 Among cognitive psychologists, these types of memories are known as iconic (visual stimuli) and echoic (auditory stimuli).100 The sensory memory system is crucial for reading, as it allows the mind to decode one sentence while moving on to the next. According to past studies, a typical person can recall an exact record of an image (i.e., iconic memory) for a few hundred milliseconds or the exact record of a sound (i.e., echoic memory) for a few seconds.101 From here, an image or sound can be encoded into the phonological loop or the visual-spatial sketchpad, respectively, within one’s working memory, which can typically hold around seven give or take two items before slowly fading.102 Verbatim memories can also be encoded into semantic memory, a longterm memory system containing general knowledge about the world learned through repeated exposure to the information.103 This process is known as rote memorization, a deliberate, sustained, and conscious effort to remember something through repetition. But even when information is encoded into our semantic memory through rote memorization, these memories decay over time.104 Moreover, verbatim recall from semantic memory is subject to memory failures, such as blocking or contamination.105 As cognitive psychologists have demonstrated, written texts greatly aid in rote memorization.106 This 97  Robert K. McIver, “Gist Memory,” DBAM 156–57. 98  Joordens, Memory and the Human Lifespan, 108. 99  Baddeley, Essentials of Human Memory, 10–14. 100  Jonathan K. Foster, Memory: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 28–29. 101  Nick Goddard, “Psychology,” in Core Psychiatry, ed. Padraig Wright, Julian Stern, and Michael Phelan, 3rd ed. (London: Elsevier, 2012), 63–82, esp. 69. 102  Steussy, “Long-Term/Short-Term Memory,” 210. 103  Joordens, Memory and the Human Lifespan, 108. 104  Schacter, The Seven Sins of Memory, 12–40. 105  Schacter, The Seven Sins of Memory, 61–87, 112–37. 106  Ian M. L. Hunter, “Lengthy Verbatim Recall: The Role of Text,” in Progress in the Psychology of Language, ed. Andrew W. Ellis, 3 vols. (London: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1985), 1.207–35, esp. 210–11; David C. Rubin, Memory in Oral Traditions: The Cognitive Psychology of Epic, Ballads, and Counting-out Rhymes (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995), 6–7.

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mnemonic function of written texts is especially important for our investigation of ancient scrolls as mediums for memory. In the oral-written context of ancient Judaism, texts were stored in both writing and memory, and they were transmitted in both writing and speech. According to David M. Carr’s study of educational practices in ancient Judaism, for example, rote memorization played an important role in the education curriculum of ancient scribes, who used written texts as reference points and mnemonic aids.107 4.1 Gist Memory The vast majority of explicit, long-term memories therefore do not contain verbatim recall but rather gist information. This “gist memory,” as some researchers call it, refers to “the recollections of the meaning or conceptual substance of what was heard or read but not necessarily the exact sounds or words.”108 As an example of gist memory, I will consider the origin of certain types of variant readings called “memory variants.” To be sure, many unintentional scribal errors are a natural consequence of the visual and oral processes of copying. In other words, one could hardly deny the existence of either (1) graphic errors generated from copying written texts or (2) aural errors resulting from reading written texts (i.e., dictation).109 That being said, some variant readings are the natural consequence of neither sight nor sound but of memory. Moving back and forth between their copies and their temporary, visual (or auditory) image of the exemplar, scribes record their working memory of texts. Some variants are akin to what Carr calls “memory variants”—namely, “the sorts of slips and textual transformations that occur when a textual tradition is carried in the mind, memorized, and then reproduced.”110

107  David M. Carr, The Formation of the Hebrew Bible: A New Reconstruction (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 3–9; idem, Writing on the Tablet of the Heart: Origins of Scripture and Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 159–61. 108  McIver, “Gist Memory,” 156. Gist memory is also known as “fuzzy trace” memory. See C. J. Brainerd and V. F. Reyna, “Fuzzy-Trace Theory and False Memory,” CDPS 11 (2002): 164–69. 109  Concerning unintentional graphic errors, see Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 221–38. Concerning unintentional aural errors, see Helmer Ringgren, “Oral and Written Transmission in the O.T.: Some Observations,” ST 3 (1949): 34–59, esp. 39. 110  David M. Carr, “Orality, Textuality, and Memory: The State of Biblical Studies,” in Contextualizing Israel’s Sacred Writings: Ancient Literacy, Orality, and Literary Production, ed. Brian B. Schmidt, SBLAIL 22 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2015), 161–73, esp. 166; emphasis original. Concerning memory variants, see also Raymond F. Person, “Education and Transmission of Tradition,” in Companion to Ancient Israel, ed. Susan Niditch (Oxford: Blackwell, 2016), 366–78, esp. 369–71; idem, “Scribal Memory,” 352–55.

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4.2 Memory Variants Carr’s pioneering work on scribal memory is foundational to understanding the Dead Sea Scrolls as a medium for memory. In Writing on the Tablet of the Heart, as I mentioned above, Carr proposed that ancient literary texts functioned as mnemonic aids in the ancient Jewish educational curriculum. In Formation of the Hebrew Bible, Carr developed these ideas into a model of the Hebrew Bible’s textual development that includes variants produced by scribal memory. Although past studies have recognized that some variants are generated from hearing (aurality), speaking (orality), or remembering (memory), text-critical models have typically focused on scribal errors produced by writing (i.e., copying written texts).111 Tov’s handbook on textual criticism, for example, virtually ignores scribal memory.112 Building upon scholarship from the comparative study of oral traditions, Carr coined the term “memory variant” to describe “the sorts of variants that happen when a tradent modifies elements of text in the process of citing or otherwise reproducing it from memory, altering elements of the text, yet producing a meaningful whole (good variants).”113 In particular, Carr constructs his notion of memory variants on the seminal ideas of Milman Parry, who first described the type of variations found in oral tradition as “good variants.” In Parry’s words criticizing a purely text-critical approach to Homeric epics, “How have they [i.e., textual critics] explained the unique number of good variant readings in our text of Homer?”114 By good variants, Carr therefore means variant readings that are grammatically, syntactically, and morphologically correct—that is, they make sense within the context of the passage.115 He distinguishes these “good” variants from two other types of “bad” (Carr’s word) variants, such as (1) graphic errors, which are errors are produced by “imperfect copying,” and (2) oral/aural errors, which are produced by “imperfect oral reception.”116 Below I will apply Carr’s notion of memory variants to two compositions in the Dead Sea Scrolls, the Hodayot and the Community Rule. As

111  For a brief discussion of previous studies that recognized variants produced from hearing, speaking, and remembering, see §4.3 below. 112  Tov notes that some variant readings in Tefillin and Mezuzot in the Dead Sea Scrolls may be the result of scribal memory. See Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 112, esp. n.196. 113  Carr, The Formation of the Hebrew Bible, 17. 114  Milman Parry, The Making of Homeric Verse: The Collected Papers of Milman Parry, ed. Adam Parry (Oxford: Clarendon, 1971), 268; emphasis original. 115  Carr, The Formation of the Hebrew Bible, 21; Carr, “Orality, Textuality, and Memory,” 166–67. 116  Carr, “Orality, Textuality, and Memory,” 165.

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a preliminary matter, however, I begin with a brief critique of Carr’s ideas intended to refine the concept of memory variants. First, Carr’s definition of “memory variant” would benefit from a broader, psychological framework of memory. According to Carr, a memory variant is “a shift that occurs in the mind of the tradent as that tradent processes and reproduces the semantic content of the text.”117 These memory variants are contrasted with other types of variants, which are produced (1) by copying written texts or (2) by oral/aural reception of texts.118 From a psychological perspective of memory, however, many graphic errors or oral/aural variants (resulting from accidental scribal errors) are produced by memory and occur in the mind. Consider, for instance, a variant produced by parablepsis.119 Why did the scribe’s gaze accidentally return to the wrong part of his exemplar? This type of mistake could be due to a momentary failure of sensory memory or some other short-term memory system within the scribe’s working memory, such as the “phonological loop” (if a scribe hears the text in his mind while copying) or the “visual-spatial sketchpad” (if a scribe sees an image of the text in his mind while copying). Overall, many of Carr’s aural variants, graphic variants, and memory variants are produced by the short-term memory systems, including working memory, where the mind of the scribe processes a text or recalls it from long-term memory.120 Second, memory variants are not memory lapses.121 To be fair, Carr never calls memory variants “errors.” Nevertheless, according to Carr, memory variants always change the received text in some “good” way (see above). His explanation, for example, portrays them as “slips,” “shifts,” “transformations,” “modifications,” “adaptations,” etc.122 Overall, this definition limits our understanding of memory variants to (1) grammatically acceptable variations that (2) change the text in some way. In my opinion, however, memory variants— to use Carr’s terminology—are neither “good” nor “bad.” Mistakes, such as imperfect copying or grammatical errors, are peripheral to the core concept of a 117  Carr, “Orality, Textuality, and Memory,” 166; emphasis original. 118  Carr, The Formation of the Hebrew Bible, 17. 119  This is a classic example of what Carr would call a “graphic variant,” an error generated by miscopying. In this case, a scribe accidentally skips over some part of a text due to looking to the side while copying. 120  I should also note that some graphic variants could also be caused by a failure of longterm implicit memory systems, such as procedural memory (muscle memory). 121  This is how some interpreters have understood memory variants. For example, see Marika Pulkkinen, “‘There Is No One Righteous’: Paul’s Use of Psalms in Romans 3,” in Functions of Psalms and Prayers in the Late Second Temple Period, ed. Mika S. Pajunen and Jeremy Penner, BZAW 486 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2017), 384–409, esp. 392. 122  Carr, “Orality, Textuality, and Memory,” 166–67; Carr, The Formation of the Hebrew Bible, 17.

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memory variant—namely, a variation occurring in scribal memory, accurate or not. Why does this caveat matter? As I explained above, memory should not be confused with either fact or fiction. Indeed, as Schacter has argued, gist memory can be misleading, particularly when we try to remember particular details of past experiences.123 But this does not mean that all gist memories are false. Quite the contrary. Our gist information—by its very definition—is both true and false.124 On the one hand, some memory variants derived from scribal gist memory could have been what Carr calls “errors.”125 On the other hand, others may not have been “slips” of the pen at all. Some memory variants are actually scribal records of authentic variations. Most importantly, memory variants do not necessarily change the text. In a subtle way, Carr’s portrayal of memory variants as “slips” implies a text-critical understanding of variants. Whereas multiformity distances one from a textbased understanding, a text-critical perspective casts variation as an alteration of an ideal text.126 But from the perspective of the scribe, memory variants are not necessarily invasive (to a performance or text) because ancient Jewish texts and traditions were predominantly multiform. As I described above, oral-traditional texts exist in several authentic forms at once.127 Consequently, to borrow the words of Lord, “we cannot correctly speak of a ‘variant,’ since there is no ‘original’ to be varied.”128 Seen from Lord’s perspective, we could rightly (and perhaps more accurately) describe Carr’s memory variants as “multiforms.”129 4.3 Memory Multiforms The bulk of scholarship on memory variants has been done (1) by comparing variants within and among biblical books and (2) by analyzing variants in either biblical texts or biblical citations found in the Dead Sea Scrolls (when compared to the Masoretic Text or the Septuagint). The seminal studies of 123  Schacter, The Seven Sins of Memory, 192–93. 124  Much of our gist information about the world is accurate. The entire concept of gist memory is predicated upon the notion that our brains accurately encode the recurring, general features of the actual world into our semantic memory. This gist information then helps us to categorize and comprehend new experiences without knowing all their details (Schacter, The Seven Sins of Memory, 192). Problems can arise, however, when we inaccurately apply generalizations (resulting from our gist knowledge) to new experiences (Schacter, The Seven Sins of Memory, 193). 125  Carr, “Orality, Textuality, and Memory,” 165. 126  Lord, Singer of Tales, 100–101. 127  For a discussion of these aspects of multiformity, see Lord, Singer of Tales, 100–101, 120–23. 128  Lord, Singer of Tales, 101. 129  Lord describes variants as multiforms (Singer of Tales, 100–101).

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Edward L. Greenstein and Shemaryahu Talmon explored scriptural misquotations in the Dead Sea Scrolls or synonymous readings of scriptural passages, respectively, some of which can be traced to (Carr’s understanding of) memory variants.130 Subsequently, Person’s foundational studies on scribal memory and scribal performance offered an extensive analysis of variants from parallel passages in several biblical books, such as Isaiah, Samuel, Kings, and Chronicles.131 Person has also examined several examples of memory variants found in biblical and parabiblical texts in the Dead Sea Scrolls.132 Building upon this previous scholarship, Carr’s groundbreaking study added two thorough case studies focusing on (1) variations among discrete proverbs within the book of Proverbs and (2) biblical citations in the Temple Scroll (11QT).133 Similarly, Norton has examined variants in biblical citations found in the biblical commentaries or pesharim.134 In view of this past focus on biblical texts, below I offer an in-depth analysis of memory variants of two sectarian texts in the Dead Sea Scrolls. In particular, I examine memory variants revealed by overlapping portions of Cave 4 and Cave 1 copies of both the Community Rule and the Hodayot.135

130  Shemaryahu Talmon, “Synonymous Readings in the Textual Traditions of the Old Testament,” ScrHeir 8 (1961): 335–83; Edward L. Greenstein, “Misquotation of Scripture in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in The Frank Talmage Memorial Volume I, ed. Barry Walfish (Haifa: Haifa University Press, 1993), 71–83; Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 233–34, 257– 58. Although neither Talmon nor Greenstein use the terminology of “memory variants” or “scribal memory,” their studies are seminal for both ideas (Carr, “Orality, Textuality, and Memory,” 163, 172). 131  Raymond F. Person, The Deuteronomistic History and the Book of Chronicles: Scribal Works in an Oral World, AIL 6 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 69–130; idem, “Text Criticism as a Lens for Understanding the Transmission of Ancient Texts in their Oral Environments,” in Contextualizing Israel’s Sacred Writings: Ancient Literacy, Orality, and Literary Production, ed. Brian B. Schmidt, SBLAIL 22 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2015), 197–215, esp. 207–13; idem, “The Role of Memory in the Tradition Represented by the Deuteronomic History and the Book of Chronicles,” OrTr 26 (2011): 537–50. 132  Raymond F. Person, “The Ancient Israelite Scribe as Performer,” JBL 117 (1998): 603–8; idem, “Formulas and Scribal Memory: A Case Study of Text-Critical Variants as Examples of Category-Triggering,” in Formula: Units of Speech, “Words” of Verbal Art, ed. Frog and William Lamb (Helsinki: Finnish Folklore Society, forthcoming). 133  Carr, The Formation of the Hebrew Bible, 25–56. 134  Jonathan D. H. Norton, Contours of Text: Textual Variation in the Writings of Paul, Josephus and the Yaḥad, LNTS 430 (London: Bloomsbury, 2011), 82–103. 135  Carr and Person briefly discuss a few examples of memory variants in the Community Rule (Carr, The Formation of the Hebrew Bible, 64–65; Person, “Formulas and Scribal Memory,” forthcoming).

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The Hodayot

The textual evidence from the Hodayot suggests that some of the Cave 4 manuscripts represent earlier collections, which were eventually combined into the anthology of hymns present in 1QHa and 4QHb (4Q428). Out of all six Cave 4 manuscripts, only 4QHb (4Q428) is similar in order and length to our most complete copy from Cave 1 (1QHa).136 As I discussed above, a comparison of the manuscripts indicates that some hymns in the Hodayot collection were subject to scribal redaction, which created different versions reflecting the long-term memories of scribes. Below I will consider other types of variations in the Hodayot that reflect working memories of ancient scribes. Some syntactically and morphologically appropriate variations are best explained as scribal memory—that is, they are most intelligible as scribal representations of a remembered text. For example, we find a perfect verb versus an imperfect verb137 or a pronominal suffix on a noun in one instance and the lack thereof in another.138 In addition, there are examples of (semantically appropriate) morphemic variations that cannot be definitively explained as errors or corruptions. Parallel portions of different copies sometimes contain different nouns, verbs, or prepositions.139 For example, we find ‫ להודיע‬in 1QHa 26:31 versus ‫ להופיע‬in 4QHa (4Q427) 7 ii 12, both of which were expunctuated (marked for deletion) at some stage. In this example, the “original text” is obscure, and the “variants” are impossible to precisely define as errors or corruptions. 136  Concerning the differences between the Cave 1 and Cave 4 manuscripts, see Eileen M. Schuller, “Some Contributions of the Cave Four Manuscripts (4Q427–432) to the Study of the Hodayot,” DSD 8 (2001): 278–87; eadem, “The Cave 4 Hodayot Manuscripts: A Preliminary Description,” JQR 85 (1994): 137–50. 137  E.g., see (1) ‫ דבקה‬in 4QHc (4Q429) 3 4 // ‫ תדבק‬in 1QHa 13:33; (2) ‫ והיו‬in 4QHb (4Q428) 8 1 // ‫ ויהיו‬in 1QHa 14:17. For other differences in the morphology of verbs, see (1) ‫ יעודני‬in 4QHa (4Q427) 7 i 9 // ]‫ יו[ע]ד[ני‬in 1QHa 26:6 (concerning these bi-spellings, see DJD 29:102); (2) ‫ שמע‬4QHa (4Q427) 7 ii 20a // ‫ לשמוע‬in 4QHb (4Q428) 21 1 (perfect verb vs. infinitive); (3) ‫ יחשבו‬in 4QHc (4Q429) 2 8 // ‫ יחשובו‬in 1QHa 13:28 (piel vs. qal); and (4) ‫ לה[מ]ס‬in 4QpapHf (4Q432) 3 5 // ‫ למוס‬in 1QHa 10:8 (hiphil vs. qal). 138  E.g., see (1) ‫ וית[גול]ל[ו] באשמתם‬in 4QHc (4Q429) 4 i 12 // ‫ יתגוללו באשמה‬in 1QHa 14:25; (2) ‫ גבורתכה‬in 4QHa (4Q427) 7 ii 15 // ‫ גבורה‬in 1QHa 26:34; (3) ‫ סודי‬in 4QHc (4Q429) 4 ii 7 // ‫ סוד‬in 1QHa 14:29; (4) ‫ אנחתי‬in 1QHa 13:35 (cf. also 4QpapHf [4Q432] 11 1) // ‫ אנחה‬in 4QHc (4Q429) 3 7. 139  For examples noun substitutions, see (1) ‫ לערמת‬in 4QHa (4Q427) 10 1 // ‫ לעומת‬in 1QHa 21:11; (2) ‫ רוח‬in 4QHa (4Q427) 7 ii 8 // ‫ רום‬in 1QHa 26:27 (cf. also 4QHe [4Q431] 2 7); (3) ‫וקו‬ in 4QpapHf (4Q432) 6 3 // ‫ וקץ‬in 1QHa 11:29. For an example of different verb, see ‫יגבירהו‬ in 4QHa (4Q427) 7 ii 9 // ‫ יגביה‬in 1QHa 26:28. For examples of a preposition substitutions, see (1) ‫ ועם‬in 4QHa (4Q427) 8 i 10 // ‫ ועד‬in 1QHa 7:18; (2) ‫ עד תום‬in 4QHc (4Q429) 4 ii 12 // ‫ עם תום‬in 1QHa 14:31.

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As Hartmut Stegemann and Eileen Schuller note, “It is difficult to establish what has happened at this point in the different copies and what was the original text.”140 According to their subsequent explanation, these variants could arise from (1) unintentional scribal copying errors, (2) intentional changes made to the Vorlage, or (3) a badly damaged Vorlage.141 In this sort of variation, however, the concept of memory variants can supplement this text-critical hermeneutic.142 Similar to synonymous readings in biblical manuscripts in the Dead Sea Scrolls, these types of variants offer evidence that scribal practices relied upon working memory. As another perplexing example of multiformity produced by scribal memory, consider the following variant readings found in three overlapping manuscripts: table 38

Variations in 1QHa, 4QHa, and 4QHb

1QHa 20:5 4QHa (4Q427) 3 2 4QHb (4Q428) 12 ii 1

]‫ש[לום‬ ‫[ואשב]ה לבטח במעון קו[דש ב]ש{ו}קט ושלוה [בשלו]ם‬ ‫[ואשבה לב]טח במעון שק[ט ושלוה ב]שלום‬ ]‫[אשבה] לבטח במ[עון שלום‬

In the editio princeps of the Hodayot, Stegemann and Schuller reconstruct a hypothetical “original form?” (their words) of all three manuscripts as follows: ‫במעון שלום בשקט ושלוה בשלום‬.143 Furthermore, they propose, all three scribes had before them this Vorlage, and all three committed scribal errors in the copying process, thereby unwittingly producing three versions of the same base text. More specifically, according to their text-critical reconstruction, the scribes of 4QHa (4Q427) and 4QHb (4Q428) committed haplography, and the scribe of 1QHa added ‫ קודש‬after ‫ מעון‬due to the popularity of this word combination in biblical Hebrew. A following scribe corrected 1QHa according to his 140  Hartmut Stegemann, Eileen M. Schuller, and Carol A. Newsom, Qumran Cave 1.III: 1QHodayota, with Incorporation of 4QHodayota–f and 1QHodayotb 1QHodayota, DJD 40 (Oxford: Clarendon, 2009), 306. Similarly, according to Schuller, it is difficult to determine whether ‫( לערמת‬4QHa [4Q427] 10 1) or ‫( לעומת‬1QHa 21:11) is more original (DJD 29:117). 141  D JD 40:306. 142  Scribal errors certainly played a part in the variations as well. Prior to ‫להודיע‬, for example, an entire line is missing in 1QHa, which can be reconstructed from 4QHa (4Q427) 7 ii 12 (see DJD 40:306). 143  D JD 40:254–55. The editors use both “original form?” and “Vorlage” in their discussion. See also Schuller’s discussion in DJD 29:92–93, 147.

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Vorlage by writing ‫ שלום‬interlinearly above ‫ קודש‬and adding a scribal correction mark before the qof.144 Stegemann and Schuller’s highly complex explanation of these variants rests on a text-centered hermeneutic, which focuses on uncovering an original text and identifying variants resulting from scribal errors. Indeed, many variants in the Hodayot are clearly the result of scribal editing or copying.145 But these variants are not errors.146 Essentially, these variations add, omit, or exchange words, but the gist of the sentence remains relatively similar. As a result, it is impossible to identify a so-called “original text” behind these types of variants. The following synoptic comparison of the four different sentences created by these variants makes this particularly clear: table 39

A synoptic comparison of 1QHa 20:5, 4QHa 3 2, and 4QHb 12 ii 1

‫ב]שקט ושלוה‬ ‫ב]שקט ושלוה‬ ]‫שק[ט ושלוה‬ ]‫וברכה‬

‫קו[דש‬ ‫ש[לום‬ ‫שלום‬

‫[ואשב]ה לבטח במעון‬ ‫[ואשב]ה לבטח במעון‬ ‫[ואשבה לב]טח במעון‬ ‫[ואשבה] לבטח במ[עון‬

1QHa 1QHa 4QHa 4QHb

a The transcriptions and reconstructions are from DJD 29:91, 146; DJD 40:250. The translations are mine. table 40

1QHa 1QHa 4QHa 4QHb

Four memory variants in 1QHa 20:5, 4QHa 3 2, and 4QHb 12 ii 1

[And I will dwe]ll securely in a ho[ly] dwelling [in] quiet and ease [And I will dwe]ll securely in a peac[eful] dwelling [in] quiet and ease [And I will dwell se]curely in a dwelling of quie[t and ease] [And I will dwell] securely in a dw[elling of peace and blessing]

As Schuller has correctly noted, the word ]‫ ש[לום‬in 1QHa 20:5 was secondarily inserted between two column lines (between lines 4 and 5) by a different scribal hand; moreover, the scribal mark (a dot) before ]‫ קו[דש‬and the interlinear placement of ]‫ ש[לום‬above ]‫ קו[דש‬indicate “an alternative reading (not 144  D SD 40:254–55. 145  As an example of scribal editing, 1QHa 10:6 contains the phrase ‫ [ומ]וכיחי אמת‬that was corrected to ‫( ומוכיחי צדק‬4QpapHf [4Q432] 3 2). Note that ‫ אמת‬is expunctuated, and ‫צדק‬ is superscripted above ‫אמת‬. 146  Except, of course, the scribal erasure in ‫ש{ו}קט‬.

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a deletion).”147 In other words, the scribe has graphically indicated the presence of what Talmon calls a “double reading,” a textual variation that preserves two equally valid and alternative readings within the same manuscript.148 As Person has explained, a double reading is essentially a conflation of two synonymous readings.149 Thus, as the table above illustrates, 1QHa actually preserves two possible readings with either “holy” or “peaceful”: (1) ‫[ואשב]ה לבטח‬ ‫ במעון קו[דש ב]שקט ושלוה‬or (2) ‫[ואשב]ה לבטח במעון ש[לום ב]שקט ושלוה‬. Or, if we see it as a double reading, it conflates both “holy” and “peaceful” into one sentence: “[And I will dwe]ll securely in a ho[ly], peac[eful] dwelling [in] quiet and ease (‫)[ואשב]ה לבטח במעון קו[דש] ש[לום ב]שקט ושלוה‬. Even more striking, 4QHa (4Q427) preserves a third reading with neither “holy” nor “peaceful”: ]‫[ואשבה לב]טח במעון שק[ט ושלוה‬.150 Finally, according to the editors’ hypothetical reconstruction, 4QHb (4Q428) may preserve a fourth reading lacking “quiet and ease”: ]‫[ואשבה] לבטח במ[עון שלום וברכה‬. Overall, all four variations are examples of what Lord and Carr call “good variants,” as they are grammatically permissible and make perfect sense within the sentence. 6

The Community Rule

Schofield’s comparison of Cave 4 and Cave 1 copies of the Community Rule notes the presence of several “ambiguous variants.”151 She calls these variants ambiguous because they can be positively identified as neither intentional changes nor unintentional errors. Even more problematic for text critical views, they do not appear to be derived from other manuscripts.152 Instead, according to her views, these ambiguous discrepancies between manuscripts 147  D JD 40:254–55. 148  Talmon, “Synonymous Readings,” 343–45. 149  Person, “Formulas and Scribal Memory,” forthcoming. 150  Both 1QHa and 4QHa (4Q427), however, end their different sentences with the same appositional clause. According to 1QHa, for example, the complete sentence is “[And I will dwe]ll securely in a ho[ly], peac[eful] dwelling [in] quiet and ease, [in peac]e and blessing in the tents of glory and salvation” (‫)[בשלו]ם וברכה באהלי כבוד וישועה‬. According to 4QHa (4Q427), the complete sentence is “[And I will dwell se]curely in a dwelling of quie[t and ease], [in] peace and blessing [in the tents of glory and sal]vation” (‫[ב]שלומ‬ ‫)וברכה [באהלי כבוד ויש]ועה‬. 151  Schofield, “Rereading S,” 106. 152  In Schofield’s words, they were “not obviously derived from one manuscript or another by scribal error or intentional redaction” (“Rereading S,” 106). As she points out, there are several variants in Cave 4 copies that are not found in 1QS, as well as several places where 1QS diverges from Cave 4 copies (Schofield, “Rereading S,” 108–9).

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witness the existence of “semi-independent” and “core” traditions underlying Rule Texts.153 As I argued above, some of these ambiguous variations reflect scribes’ episodic memories of dynamic traditions and changing practices. In addition to these episodic memories, however, some ambiguous variants in the Community Rule reflect the working memories of scribes. Similar to the Hodayot, a comparison of overlapping portions between different copies of the Community Rule reveals (1) morphological variation, (2) substitutions, (3) additions or omissions, and (4) reordering. As an illustration of these types of memory variants, I turn to a close analysis of a passage found in three overlapping copies of the Community Rule (1QS 5:22–23). The immediate context of this passage from the Community Rule is a description of the admission process, when initiates are questioned by both the sons of Aaron, who have volunteered to uphold God’s covenant, and by the majority of Israel, who have volunteered to return to God’s covenant. The first clause of the passage below finishes the last sentence, and the remainder of the passage continues with a description of the enrollment process for new members. table 41

A synoptic comparison of 1QS, 4QSd, 4QSg *

1QS 5:22–23

4QSd (4Q258) II 2–3

‫לשוב ביחד לבריתו‬ ‫וכתבם‬ ‫בסרך איש לפני רעהו‬ ‫לפי שכלו‬ ‫ומעשיו‬ ‫להשמע הכול איש לרעהו‬ ‫הקטן לגדול‬

‫לשוב ביחד‬ ‫ולהכתב‬ ‫איש לפני רעה בסרך‬ ‫איש לפי שכלו‬ ‫ומעשיו בתורה‬ ]‫להשמע הכול איש לרעה[ו‬ ‫הקטן לגדול‬

4QSg (4Q261) 1a–b 2–4 ‫לשבת יחד‬ ‫ולכת[ב‬ ‫איש לפנ]י רע[הו בסרך‬ ‫לפי] שכלו‬ ‫ומעשו בתור[ה‬ ]‫להשמע‬ ]‫הקטן [לגדול‬

* The transcriptions and reconstructions follow DJD 26:98, 174. The translations are mine. The editors suggest that ‫ רעה‬in 4QSd (4Q258) is “probably a miswriting for ‫רעהו‬, rather than a defective spelling” (DJD 26:101). That being said, it is still intelligible as an indefinite noun (as I translated below).

153  Schofield, “Rereading S,” 107–9.

Scribal Memory table 42

1QS

4QSd

4QSg

261

Translation of 1QS 5:22–23, 4QSd II 2–3, and 4QSg 1a–b 2–4

to return, as a community, to his covenant. And they shall inscribe them [i.e., the initiates] by rank, one man before his fellow, according to his understanding and his works, so that all may be obedient, each man to his fellow, the junior to the senior. to return, as a community. And each man shall be inscribed before a fellow, by rank each according to his understanding and his works in the Law, so that all may be obedient, each man to [his] fellow, the junior to the senior. to dwell together. And [each man] shall be inscrib[ed befor]e [his] fell[ow, by rank according to] his understanding and his works in the La[w, so that] the junior [may be obedient to the senior].

Because the majority of variations between these parallel versions are textually ambiguous and grammatically acceptable, it is extremely difficult for editors to identify so-called original readings. That is to say, most variants make sense and are not clearly derivative from another text. As a result, they can be correctly understood as memory variants derived from the source of scribal working memory. Overall, this passage displays four types of changes that are typical of texts transmitted by scribal working memory in an oralwritten context. First, the passage above exhibits differences in morphology. For instance, the root ‫ כתב‬occurs in two or three different morphological forms: (1) qal perfect, (2) niphal infinitive, and possibly (3) qal infinitive. According to Alexander and Vermes, ‫“ וכתבם‬should probably be read as a plural verb written defectively: either ‫ וכתבום‬or ‫יכתבום‬.”154 Whereas ‫ להכתב‬is clearly a niphal infinitive, ]‫ולכת[ב‬ is either a qal infinitive or a defective spelling of a niphal infinitive.155 These sorts of changes in verb morphology occur elsewhere in the Community Rule. In some cases, an indicative verb is paralleled with an infinitive; in other cases, different verbal stems (binyanim) are paralleled with one another.156 In addition, a singular can be paralleled with a plural, or a perfect can be paralleled 154  D JD 26:101. 155  D JD 26:101, 175. Both infinitives are used in place of the indicative (DJD 26:101). 156  E.g., (1) “he shall not reprove anyone, and he should not argue with the men of the pit” (‫ )לא יוכיח איש ולא יתרובב עם אנשי השחת‬in 4QSd (4Q258) VIII 1 // “he shall neither reprove nor argue with men of the pit” (‫ )לוא להוכיח ולהתרובב עם אנשי השחת‬in 1QS 9:16 (cf. also 4QSe [4Q259] III 13–14); (2) ‫ לשלח הואה‬and ‫ ישלחהו‬in 1QS 7:16–17 // ‫[ו]שלחוהו‬ and ‫לשלח‬, respectively, in 4QSg (4Q261) 6a–e 3–4; (3) ‫ יבא‬in 4QSi (4Q263) 1 (cf. also 4QSd [4Q258] II 5) // ‫ יביא‬in 1QS 6:1.

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with an imperfect.157 Finally, we find verbal and nominal forms of the same root, as well as paired nouns with contrasting morphologies.158 Second, the passage above displays substitutions of words with similar or different meanings. For example, “to return, as a community” (‫)לשוב ביחד‬ occurs in 1QS and 4QSd (4Q258), while “to dwell together” (‫ )לשבת יחד‬occurs in 4QSg (4Q261). According to Alexander and Vermes, the omission of ‫ לבריתו‬in 4QSd is a scribal error because “to return” (‫ )לשוב‬normally requires a complement.159 Consequently, they deduce that the scribe of 4QSg felt the need to emend ‫ לשוב ביחד‬to ‫לשבת יחד‬.160 But this hypothesis is unnecessary.161 Moreover, these types of changes occur a number of times elsewhere in the Community Rule with verbs, nouns, and prepositions. The following example, which exhibits two different verbs (‫ ולהשכילם‬// ‫)ולהמשילם‬, illustrates verbal substitutions: “and he will instruct them about all that has been discovered to do at this time” (‫ )ולהשכילם כול הנמצא לעשות בעת הזואת‬in 1QS 9:20 // “and he shall make them masters of all that has been discovered to do at this time” (‫ולה־‬ ]‫ )משילם בכול [הנמצא לעשות] בעת ה[זואת‬in 4QSe (4Q259) III 19–IV 1.162 A wide variety of noun substitutions can be cited as well, such as “a most holy dwelling place” (‫ )מעון קודש קודשים‬in 4QSd (4Q258) VI 2 // “a m[o]st holy stronghold” (‫ )מעוז קדוש קו[ד]שים‬in 4QSe (4Q259) II 17.163 Finally, several examples of 157  E.g., (1) ‫ ויבדילהו‬in 1QS 6:25 // ]‫ והב[דילוהו‬in 4QSg (4Q261) 3 3; (2) ‫ וישמעו‬in 1QS 6:2 // ‫ [וישמ]ע‬in 4QSi (4Q263) 3. 158  E.g., (1) ‫ רחיצה‬in 4QSh (4Q262) 1 3 // ‫ רחץ‬in 1QS 3:5; (2) “and at the coming” (‫ )ובבוא‬in 4QSf (4Q260) II 3 (infinitive construct) // “at the coming” (‫ )במבוא‬in 1QS 10:3 (verbal noun with a preposition); (3) ‫ בהוכח‬in 4QSd (4Q258) II 6 // ‫ בתוכחת‬in 1QS 6:1. 159  D JD 26:175. 160  D JD 26:175. 161  The complement of ‫ לשוב‬in 4QSd (i.e., “his covenant”) is implied by the immediately preceding context; moreover, this verb occurs in a similar construction—with an adverb and without a complement—in biblical Hebrew (cf. Gen 8:12). 162  The last reading, according to Alexander and Vermes, “should not be dismissed as corrupt” (DJD 26:149). There are two additional minor variations of this sentence in other manuscripts. A third variation of the verb (lacking a waw conjunction) occurs in 4QSb (4Q256) XVIII 3–4: “by instructing them in all that has been discovered should [sic] be done [at this time]” (]‫)להשכילם בכול הנמצא לעשות [בעת הזואת‬. For this translation, see DJD 26:58. A variation of the entire sentence rather than the verb occurs in 4QSd (4Q258) VIII 4–5, where a vacat splits the last clause into two different sentences: “by instructing them in all that has been discovered should [sic] be done. vacat At [this] time …” (DJD 26:117). 163  According to Alexander and Vermes, the latter variant is not an error; nevertheless, the former “is more likely to be correct,” as it also occurs in 1QS 8:8 (DJD 26:144). For additional examples of noun substitutions, see (1) “to be an eternal commandment” (‫ )[למ]שפט עולם‬in 4QSe (4Q259) II 14 // “to be an eternal plantation” (‫ )למטעת עולם‬in

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preposition substitutions occur. For example, scribes sometimes interchange (1) ‫ עד‬and ‫ על‬or (2) ‫ ל‬and ‫ב‬.164 Third, the passage above exhibits additions or omissions. The phrase “so that all may be obedient, each man to his fellow, the junior to the senior” (‫להשמע‬ ‫ )הכול איש לרעהו הקטן לגדול‬in both 1QS and 4QSd (4Q258), for example, is much shorter in 4QSg (4Q261). Unfortunately, this line is poorly preserved in 4QSg (4Q261); nevertheless, enough remains to discern that three or four words are missing.165 Similarly, one finds various omissions or additions elsewhere in the Community Rule. Most often these changes are minor, such as an added preposition or conjunction.166 In several cases, however, scribes added or omitted an entire word or two.167 Compared with the phrase “with a firm purpose and a broken spirit” (‫ )ביצר סמוך ורוח נשברה‬in 1QS 8:3, for example, 4QSe (4Q259) II 11–12 contains an additional word: “with a firm purpose and with humility [and a b]roken [spirit]” (‫)ביצר סמוך ובענוה [ורוח נ]שברה‬.168 It is possible, as suggested by Alexander and Vermes, that ‫ ובענוה‬is a “secondary intrusion.”169 But it is also possible that ‫ ובענוה‬is an authentic variation recorded by scribal working 1QS 8:5; (2) “way of truth” (‫ )דרך האמת‬in 4QSe (4Q259) III 4 // “his way” (‫)דרך הואהא‬ 1QS 8:13; (3) ‫ בהון‬in 1QS 6:25 // ‫ [ב]ממון‬in 4QSg (4Q261) 3 3 (these are synonyms). 164  Concerning the interchange of ‫ עד‬and ‫ על‬in the Dead Sea Scrolls, see DJD 26:143. Concerning the interchange of ‫ ל‬and ‫ב‬, see DJD 26:97. For more examples, see (1) “for a full [ten years]” (]‫ )עד מלאות לו [עשר שנים‬in 4QSe (4Q259) II 5 // “for a full ten years” (‫ )על מלואת עשר שנים‬in 1QS 7:22; (2) “for good [I will pursue] him” (‫)לטוב [ארדוף] גבר‬ in 4QSf (4Q260) IV 5 // “with good I will pursue him” (‫ )בטוב ארדף גבר‬in 1QS 10:18. For other types of preposition substitutions, see (1) “according to his wisdom” (‫ )לפי שכלו‬in 1QS 5:24 (cf. also 4QSg [4Q261] 1a–b 5) // ]‫ כפי שכל[ו‬in 4QSd (4Q258) II 4; (2) “according to the many” (‫ )לפני הרבים‬in 1QS 6:1 // ‫ לרבים‬in 4QSd (4Q258) II 5. 165  According to the editors’ suggested reconstruction, 4QSg (4Q261) reads, “[so that] the junior [may be obedient to the senior]” ([‫)]להשמע] הקטן [לגדול‬. See DJD 26:174. In addition, Alexander and Vermes view the shorter text of 4QSg (4Q261) as “an abbreviation of the longer” text in 1QS and 4QSd (DJD 26:176). 166  E.g., (1) “its rotation” (‫ )תקופתו‬in 4QSf (4Q260) II 1 // “and during its rotation” (‫)ובתקופתו‬ in 1QS 10:2; (2) ‫ רבים‬in 1QS 7:3 // ‫ לרבים‬in 4QSg (4Q261) 4a–b 6. 167  For an example of omissions, two occurrences of ‫ איש‬in 1QS 6:2–4—namely, ‫איש את‬ ‫ רעהו‬and ‫—איש כוהן‬are missing in 4QSd (4Q258) II 6–8. 168  For other examples of additions, see (1) “then he shall be accepted through pleasing atonements” (‫ )אז ירצה בכפורי ניחוח‬in 4QpapSa (4Q255) 2 8 // “then he shall be accepted through pleasing atonements before God” (‫ )אז ירצה בכפורי ניחוח לפני אל‬in 1QS 3:11; (2) “I will not harbor anger against those who turn from sin” (‫ )[לוא] אטור לש[ב]י פשע‬in 4QSf (4Q260) IV 9–10 // “I will not harbor anger in wrath against those who turn from sin” (‫לוא‬ ‫ )אטור באף לשבי פשע‬in 1QS 10:20. As Alexander and Vermes note, the addition of ‫ אף‬in the latter example may be “a secondary gloss incorporated into the text” because “is not normally expressed” (in biblical Hebrew) when implied by the verb itself (DJD 26:165). But cf. the Syriac version of Amos 1:11, which has a similar expression: “and he maintained his anger perpetually” (‫)ויטר לעד אפו‬. Concerning this verb in Amos 1:11, see HALOT, s.v. “‫נטר‬.” 169  D JD 26:143.

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memory of the text. Finally, as also noted by Alexander and Vermes, there are instances where “an original simple formula may have been secondarily expanded [or contracted] in a variety of ways.”170 In the following example, a scribe appended a different pronominal suffix to a stock phrase: “and it is by his holy spirit” (‫ )וברוח קודשו‬in 4QpapSa (4Q255) 2 1 // “and it is by the holy spirit” (‫ )וברוח קדושה‬1QS 3:7.171 Fourth, the passage above displays reordering. As Person has argued, reordering of this sort can also reflect scribal memory of a text.172 For example, the phrase ‫ בסרך איש‬occurs in two different positions in the following two sentences: ‫( לשוב ביחד לבריתו וכתבם בסרך איש לפני רעהו‬1QS) and ‫לשוב ביחד ולהכתב‬ ‫( איש לפני רעה בסרך איש‬4QSd [4Q258]). Similarly, elsewhere in the Community Rule, scribes sometimes reordered constituents within a sentence. In 1QS 10:16–17 (see also 4QSb [4Q256] XX 5–6), for example, we find “for I know that in His hand is the judgement of all the living, and true are all His deeds” (‫)ואדעה כיא בידו משפט כול חי ואמת כול מעשיו‬.173 Although it is only partially extant, the parallel passage in 4QSf (4Q260) IV 3 has a reordered, shorter text.174 According to Alexander and Vermes, it can be reconstructed in one of two ways: (1) “the judgement of every living being is in His hands, and true are His deeds” (]‫ )משפט כול חי [בידו ואמת מ]עש[יו‬or (2) “the judgement of every living being is in His hand, as well as all his deeds” (]‫)משפט כול חי [בידו וכול מ]עש[יו‬.175 Either way, the text is reordered.

170  D SD 26:113. 171  Three other forms of this stock phrase occur in the Dead Sea Scrolls: “by your holy spirit” (‫ ;ברוח קודשך‬cf. 1QHa 8:30, 17:32, 20:15), “by his holy spirit” (‫ ;ברוח קודשו‬cf. 1QS 8:16), and “by the holy spirit” (‫ ;ברוח קודש‬cf. 1QS 4:21, 9:3). For another example of a different pronominal suffix on a stock phrase, see “and he will conceal his counsel” (‫)ולסתר עצתו‬ in 4QSd (4Q258) VIII 2 // “and he will conceal the council of the Law” (‫ולסתר את עצת‬ ‫ )התורה‬in 1QS 9:17 (cf. also 4QSe [4Q259] III 14–15). 172  Person, “Formulas and Scribal Memory,” forthcoming. For another example of reordering (that is reconstructed), see ]‫ ופ[עמיו יהכין‬in 4QpapSa (4Q255) 2 4 // ‫ ויהכין פעמיו‬in 1QS 3:9. For this reconstruction, see DJD 26:33, 35. 173  D JD 26:62. 174  D JD 26:163. 175  D JD 26:163. I should note that Alexander and Vermes also suggest a third possible reconstruction. The shorter text of 4QSf (4Q260) could have been caused by the accidental omission of ‫ ואדעה כיא בידו‬from ‫ואדעה כיא בידו משפט כול חי ואמת כול מעשיו‬. In this case, the original text of 4QSf (4Q260) IV 3 should be reconstructed as ‫משפט כול חי‬ ]‫( [ואמת כול מ]עש[יו‬DJD 26:163). If this reconstruction is accurate, then 4QSf (4Q260) IV 3 exhibits an omission rather than a reordering.

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7 Conclusion In addition to oral and written mediums, ancient scrolls were also mediums for scribal memory. In this sense, the Dead Sea Scrolls could rightly be thought of as a cache of memories, which were encoded in the minds of ancient Jews and eventually recorded in scrolls by ancient scribes. As a result, a better appreciation of scribal memory and how it works can improve our understanding of the Dead Sea Scrolls. In particular, a basic knowledge of human memory systems should be incorporated into our conceptions of the copying process. In order to explore the systems of scribal memory, I relied upon the dominant model of memory in psychology and neuropsychology. According to this model, human memory can be divided into long-term and short-term memory systems. In the first half of this chapter, I considered scribes’ long-term memory systems containing memories of specific events of their life (episodic) and general information about their world (semantic). More specifically, I explored spacing techniques and recensional activity in the Dead Sea Scrolls as possible examples of the ways in which the episodic memories of scribes could have impacted their copies. In the second half of this chapter, I explored shortterm memory or working memory, the mental workspace where memories are temporarily stored and processed. In particular, I considered certain types of variant readings as illustrations of how the working memory of ancient scribes could have affected texts during the copying process. A basic understanding of the content of scribal memory—what the scribe remembers—should also inform our views of the copying process. Otherwise, we may overlook the powerful role that scribal memories played in the transmission and development of the Dead Sea Scrolls. In short, scribal memory includes texts, performance, and tradition. In ancient Judaism, scrolls were not the primary medium of texts; rather, texts chiefly existed in the human mind. Orbiting around the texts themselves, performance is also part of scribal memory—that is, the specific ways of reading or writing texts, as well as variations in a text’s performance, also constituted scribal memory. Finally, scribal memory includes traditional associations of words and traditional interpretations of texts. A written text, a traditional text, and a performed text all interfaced with one another in the mind of the scribe during the copying process. As mediums for memory, then, the Dead Sea Scrolls stored the scribal memories of the texts themselves, as well as scribal memories of how ancient Jews understood, read, and wrote these texts in antiquity. In the context of the ancient Jewish world, the notion of “original texts” is therefore misleading because texts existed in several authentic forms at once. Moreover, a scribe’s copy of the text was often influenced to a great extent

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by the scribe’s memory of the text. In other words, the ways in which texts were read and the traditions surrounding texts sometimes became part of the scribe’s copy of the text. In this manner, scribal memory produced multiformity. In the first half of this chapter, I began with an examination of the spacing techniques in psalms scrolls and stichographic systems in biblical poetry. Subsequently, I examined the recensions of the so-called Self-Glorification Hymn (in the Hodayot and other texts) and the hypothetical Zadokite recension of the Community Rule. I contended that the shifting contexts of performance created these different spacing techniques and versions, which were encoded into scribal memory and eventually recorded in their written copies. Biblical poetry was performed by a wide variety of groups in Second Temple Judaism, and these different contexts led to multiple, sometimes inconsistent, forms of spacing techniques. Similarly, the Community Rule and the Hodayot were performed over a long period of time, and probably in a variety of locations, within the communities associated with the Scrolls. Overall, conflicting spacing and divergent versions sometimes represent the ancient scribes’ episodic memories of the diverse ways in which texts were performed in ancient Judaism. In the second half, I considered the origin of certain types of variant readings called “memory variants.” These variants, according to Carr’s definition, are the types of “textual transformations that occur when a textual tradition is carried in the mind, memorized, and then reproduced.”176 In particular, I examined (1) morphological variations, (2) substitutions, (3) additions or omissions, and (4) reordering in the different (Cave 4 and Cave 1) copies of the Community Rule and the Hodayot. In these cases, the so-called “original text” is obscure, and the “variants” are impossible to definitively explain as errors or corruptions. I contended that these types of variants are not necessarily errors but rather the “gist memory” of scribes because they still represent the conceptual substance of the text and still make sense within the passage. Overall, the source of some textual recensions and some variant readings in the Dead Sea Scrolls is not a hypothetical original (written) text but rather the mind of the scribe, who inscribed his memory of the written, performed, and traditional text into his copy of the text.

176  Carr, “Orality, Textuality, and Memory,” 166; emphasis original.

Conclusion To a man with a pencil, everything looks like a list. To a man with a camera, everything looks like an image. To a man with a computer, everything looks like data. Neil Postman1

∵ In 1964, Marshall McLuhan published his landmark study of media, Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man, which quickly became a cornerstone of media studies during the latter half of the 1960s. McLuhan, who writes at times more like a crabby sage than a dry academic, is most well-known for his provocative proverb, “the medium is the message.”2 Eventually this turn of phrase entered the lexicon of popular usage, but McLuhan’s arguments were dismissed by many critics. Although his theory of media initially won popular acclaim, it failed to weather the storm of subsequent critical reflection. As a result, “the medium is the message” became more of a byword for technological determinism than a catchphrase for innovative media theory in some circles of academia.3 Nevertheless, in spite of all its shortcomings, McLuhan’s theory did contribute some long-lasting, beneficial concepts to media studies and communication studies. To understand the cryptic statement “the medium is the message,” we need to begin with McLuhan’s concept of media. First, McLuhan defines media very broadly as “any extension of ourselves.”4 Second, the content of media is distinct from the medium itself.5 Third, it is the medium itself—not the content of a medium—that affects society most. For example, McLuhan posits that, 1  Neil Postman, Technopoly: The Surrender of Culture to Technology (New York: Random House, 1992), 14. 2  Marshall McLuhan, Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man (Berkeley: Gingko Press, 2013), 7–23. 3  Paul Grosswiler, The Method is the Message: Rethinking McLuhan through Critical Theory (Montreal: Black Rose Books, 1998), 4. See also Nancy Shaw, review of The Method is the Message: Rethinking McLuhan Through Critical Theory, by Paul Grosswiler, CJC 24 (1999): 1–2. 4  McLuhan, Understanding Media, 7. 5  McLuhan, Understanding Media, 8–9, 19.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | doi:10.1163/9789004408203_009

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“Print [rather than the content of print] created individualism and nationalism in the sixteenth century.”6 Regardless of their specific content, every medium has characteristics that affect users and society in specific ways. In McLuhan’s acerbic and witty assessment, Our conventional response to all media, namely that it is how they are used that counts, is the numb stance of the technological idiot. For the “content” of a medium is like the juicy piece of meat carried by the burglar to distract the watchdog of the mind. The effect of the medium is made strong and intense just because it is given another medium as “content.” The content of a movie is a novel or a play or an opera. The effect of the movie form is not related to its program content.7 As the above quote satirizes, McLuhan explicitly rejects an instrumental view of media that assesses the value of a particular medium based on societal or personal use of that medium.8 For McLuhan, media and technology are not good, bad, or neutral; rather, they change society. This change is the “message” of the medium. In his words, the message of technology is the “change of scale or pace or pattern that it introduces into human affairs.”9 Thus, as McLuhan clarifies in the preface to his second edition of Understanding Media, the phrase “the medium is the message” essentially means that “any technology gradually creates a totally new human environment.”10 As I previously suggested, McLuhan’s theory is not without significant problems. It presents a view of technology that creates, transforms, and to some extent determines both culture and society.11 Technology and media become semi-autonomous, reified entities outside of culture. Rather than a product of society, technological determinists portray technology as an independent force that shapes society under its own self-generated momentum. Indeed, technologies do influence their use within society and bring about change within society. But technologies are not the primary cause of societal change. 6  McLuhan, Understanding Media, 21. 7  McLuhan, Understanding Media, 19. 8  McLuhan, Understanding Media, 11. 9  McLuhan, Understanding Media, 8. 10  McLuhan, Understanding Media, 7. 11  I should mention that Paul Grosswiler’s reassessment of some early critique has rehabilitated McLuhan. A closer reading of McLuhan, according to Grosswiler, shows that his media theory is not entirely deterministic because McLuhan does allow for human activity to change society—that is, human beings are not completely determined by technology that is beyond their control (Method is the Message, 75). For a detailed analysis of modern reactions, see Grosswiler, Method is the Message, 112–215.

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They determine neither their own use nor their own effects.12 Even more importantly for those interested in ancient texts, technological determinism posits an overly rigid dichotomy between content and medium that stifles the voice of content. The medium is not the only message. That being said, McLuhan’s ideas were particularly prescient for the current Internet age, which is without a doubt being shaped by the digital medium. As the Internet has abundantly demonstrated, material culture is not causally independent from the social aspects of society. Technology influences society, and society influences technology. Moreover, McLuhan’s ideas offered a needed corrective—albeit overstated—to predominant approaches toward written media during his time. As pointed out by Thomas E. Boomershine, “the medium is the message” stands in stark opposition to “the assumption in literary criticism that the meaning of a text is solely in its content.”13 McLuhan also draws attention to the need to examine the message of current mediums in Western culture. Otherwise, we might inadvertently apply modern conceptions to ancient media. The medium of information influences our perception of information. Mediums alter the way you write and read texts, and they influence the way you think about texts. In the words of McLuhan’s prodigious student, Walter J. Ong, “Technologies are not mere exterior aids but also interior transformations of consciousness, and never more than when they affect the word.”14 In sum, McLuhan was correct in arguing that media does not simply convey information; rather, it presents information in a particular form that actually influences the way we perceive that information and our world. As Postman points out, “Embedded in every tool is an ideological bias, a predisposition to construct the world as one thing rather than another.”15 In this sense, technologies “are metaphors through which we conceptualize reality in one way or another.”16 Similarly, according to Eva Mroczek, the comparison of scrolls with books—including those that eventually became the Bible—is actually a metaphor “that provides the fundamental structure for our scholarly

12  Postman overstates his case when he claims that the “uses made of any technology are largely determined by the structure of the technology itself—that is, that its functions follow from its form” (Technopoly, 7). 13  Thomas E. Boomershine, “McLuhan, Marshall,” DBAM 218–19, esp. 219. 14  Walter J. Ong, Orality and Literacy: The Technologizing of the Word (London: Routledge, 2002), 82. 15  Postman, Technopoly, 13 16  Neil Postman, Teaching as a Conserving Activity (New York: Delacorte Press, 1979), 39.

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imagination.”17 As the title of this book indicates, I have thought of the Dead Sea Scrolls in terms of a new metaphor—namely, media. More specifically, as the subtitle specifies, I used the metaphor of media to explore orality, textuality, and memory in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Thinking of scrolls as mediums for speech, writing, and memory opens up new avenues for understanding the content and meaning of texts. In short, it encourages us to appreciate the Dead Sea Scrolls not just as depositories of written texts but also as records of orality and memory. 1

An Ancient Media Criticism

One of the most intriguing points in McLuhan’s discussion of “the medium is the message” is his interpretation of the classic criticism of literacy in Plato’s Phaedrus, in which Socrates and a citizen of Athens discuss a mythological origin of the alphabet and the propriety of writing in Athenian society (Phaedrus 274c–278d). Although written texts may ostensibly improve people’s memory, according to Socrates, they will in fact have the opposite effect. Should mankind learn to write, they will record texts in writing instead of encoding them in their memories. In McLuhan’s interpretation, this story illustrates how the new medium of writing changed ancient Greek culture and transformed its predecessor (i.e., oral communication).18 Similarly, in Nicholas Carr’s more recent study of digital technology’s effect on our mental processes, the Phaedrus is evoked as an example of how media shape not only society but our “process of thought.”19 Carr maintains that every information technology embodies an “intellectual ethic,” which he defines as “a set of assumptions about how the human mind works or should work.”20 This intellectual ethic constitutes “the message that a medium or other tool transmits into the minds and culture

17  Eva Mroczek, The Literary Imagination in Jewish Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), 10. 18  McLuhan, Understanding Media, 7. For a similar view, see also Ong, Orality and Literacy, 78–80; Postman, Technopoly, 3–7. McLuhan’s interpretation is informed by Eric A. Havelock’s now classic Preface to Plato, which argued that Plato’s writings reflect a shift from orality to literacy in ancient Greek culture (see n.24 below) 19  Nicholas Carr, The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to Our Brains (New York: Norton, 2010), 6. 20  Carr, The Shallows, 45.

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of its users.”21 Ultimately, according to Carr, this intellectual ethic can even change the physical structure of the brain.22 For the topic of this book, however, Plato’s criticism of literacy is relevant because it informs the Greco-Roman background of the ancient Judaism. It’s a telling glimpse of ancient Greek views of orality, writing, and memory. Or, to put it another way, it’s an ancient Greek media criticism of the benefits and pitfalls of both oral communication and written communication. Overall, Plato clearly recognized the value of written texts in Greek education and society, while still underscoring the importance and benefits of oral communication. Thus, in Plato’s Phaedrus, Socrates recognizes that written texts have beneficial functions in society, such as mnemonic aids for memory loss (Phaedrus 276d). Similarly, in the Laws, Socrates argues for the necessity of (1) written laws governing society and (2) universal literacy for all boys and girls (Laws 809e–810b; 875c–d).23 According to Plato’s view of the ideal city, written communication was essential to effective government and proper education. In the Republic, Socrates even advocates for the banishment of all oral bards (Republic 601e–608b).24 At the same time, however, Plato describes the advantages, or perhaps even the superiority, of both oral communication and memorized texts. As pointed out by William V. Harris, “Respect for memory was deeply entrenched in Greek culture,” and “Greek and Roman education laid a heavy stress on learning things by heart.”25 As a result, Socrates in the Phaedrus declares that written texts are “a recipe not for memory, but for reminder” (Phaedrus 275a).26 On the one hand, as I mentioned above, the invention of writing is not a recipe—literally, a “magical potion” (φάρμακον)—for the powers of memory (μνήμης), because 21  Carr, The Shallows, 45–46. 22  By appealing to neuropsychological studies which affirm the brains plasticity, Carr argues that “digital technology not only is changing the way we live and communicate but is rapidly and profoundly altering our brains” (The Shallows, 120). 23  William V. Harris, Ancient Literacy (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1989), 100. 24  For discussion of this passage, see Eric A. Havelock, Preface to Plato (Oxford: Blackwell, 1963), 41–46. As Havelock argued, Socrates’s problem is not with poetry per se but with the effects of oral tradition in the ancient Greek education system. Havelock identified a shift in ancient Greek culture from orality in Homeric epics to the literacy in Plato’s later writings (Preface to Plato, 47). Thus, according to Havelock, Socrates main enemy was not oral tradition but the “oral state of mind” (Preface to Plato, 41). More recent studies, as noted by Raymond F. Person, “have adopted a more nuanced approach, and most scholars today would view Havelock’s model as an illustration of the Great Divide” (Raymond F. Person, “Havelock, Eric Alfred,” DBAM 170). 25  Harris, Ancient Literacy, 32. 26  All translations of Plato come from John Cooper, ed., Plato: Complete Works (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1997).

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people will begin to rely on written texts instead of memorized texts. On the other hand, written texts are a reminder (ὑπομνήσεως). Of what, however, do they remind us? Subsequently, Socrates answers with a rhetorical question: Well, then, those who think they can leave written instructions for an art, as well as those who accept them, thinking that writing can yield results that are clear or certain, must be quite naive and truly ignorant of Ammon’s prophetic judgment: otherwise, how could they possibly think that words that have been written down can do more than remind those who already know what the writing is about? (Phaedrus 275c–d)27 In other words, written texts serve to remind us of the memorized text. Written texts facilitate memorization for those who are learning the text by heart, and they aid recall for those who already know the text by heart. But they will not improve our memory. As this passage suggests, texts primarily existed in the mind and were transmitted in oral communication in ancient Greek culture. Compared with oral communication, according to Socrates description above, written texts are not “clear” (σαφὲς). Written texts are unclear, as Socrates clarifies, because they cannot explain themselves.28 Similarly, according to Laws, written laws governing the city are by their very nature general and therefore require oral interpretation on a case-by-case basis to be properly applied (Laws 875c–d). As a result, Socrates argues that words encoded in the mind—texts that are “written down in the soul of the listener”—are superior to discourse inscribed in scrolls (Phaedrus 276a). Only through dialectical discourse can someone truly understand texts, while those who rely on the one-way street of written media “for the most part know nothing” (Phaedrus 275b).29 Even more striking, Socrates argues that written texts are neither certain nor fixed, literally not “steady” or not “firm” (βέβαιον).30 As correctly pointed out by Harris, Plato is here explicitly denying a virtue that was “held by others to be inherent in written texts.”31 Socrates’s criticism is aimed at those who suppose the superiority 27  Cooper, Plato, 552; emphasis added. 28  Harris, Ancient Literacy, 91. LJS, s.v. “βέβαιος.” 29  Or, according to Harris’s summary of Socrates argument, “Writing only conveys the appearance of wisdom instead of truth, and those who rely on reading will not be wise but ‘opinion-wise’ (Ancient Literacy, 91).” 30  Cf. also Phaedrus 277d, where Socrates mocks those who think that written political documents have either fixedness (βεβαιότητα) or clarity (σαφήνειαν). In Socrates opinion, they should be ashamed (Harris, Ancient Literacy, 91–92). 31  Harris, Ancient Literacy, 92.

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of static, written texts over fluid, oral texts. Socrates’s response, however, is that both written communication and oral communication are fluid. Overall, the classic criticism of literacy in Plato’s Phaedrus sheds light on views of writing, orality, and memory in the Greco-Roman world. Both the unclear and the unfixed nature of written texts starkly contrasts the modern text-critical search for a so-called original text. According to these views, as I outlined in the introduction, the written text remains more or less stable during the copying process. But if writing creates an “unfixed” text, then the concept of an original text becomes tenuous at best. By way of comparison, Plato’s views fit nicely with the conclusions of subsequent studies of comparative oral tradition. Albert Lord’s theory of multiformity, for example, asserts that oraltraditional texts exist in several authentic forms at once.32 Moreover, as argued by Paul Zumthor, oral-traditional texts exhibit an indeterminate manuscript tradition (mouvance) when they are committed to writing. In other words, they are unfixed.33 2

Dead Sea Media

As I argued in the preceding chapters, the Dead Sea Scrolls paint a similar picture of the textual landscape of ancient Judaism. The Dead Sea Scrolls emerged from a world in which oral performance, memory, and writing were interlinked with one another. Texts were held in the mind, spoken out loud, and sometimes committed to writing. The written forms of texts served as mnemonic aids and performance cues, but texts primarily existed in the minds of ancient scribes. When oral-traditional texts were written, this did not fix them in perpetuity. Whether encoded on the tablet of the mind or written on a roll of parchment, texts were in a state of flux. The interface between writing and memory in the social setting of the Scrolls is witnessed by the multiformity of spacing techniques, versions (textual recensions), and readings (i.e., textual variants). During the copying process, scribes integrated their long- and short-term memories into their written copies. These scribal memories included not only the text itself but also events in their lives and general information about the world. Thus, scribal memory included the written text of compositions, traditional interpretations (both oral 32  Albert Lord, The Singer of Tales, ed. Stephen Mitchell and Gregory Nagy, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2000), 99–102. 33  Paul Zumthor, Oral Poetry: An Introduction, trans. Kathryn Murphy-Judy, THL 70 (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1990), 196–209.

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and written) surrounding compositions, and past performances of compositions. The integration of scribal memory into the written copies sometimes led to recensional activity. As my analysis of the Self-Glorification Hymn illustrates, the conflicting versions of some compositions cannot be genetically traced to a specific written copy because they developed from the common source of scribal memory. Some recensional activity stems from scribal memory of tradition and performance. The integration of scribal memory into the scrolls also gave rise to a host of variant readings, such as substitutions, additions, omissions, and reordering. It is tempting (but fallacious) to view memory variants as “errors” that occur when a scribe carries a text in his mind. As pointed out by Harris, “It is likely that during most of antiquity one was considered to know a text by heart even if, by modern standards, one’s memory of it was inexact.”34 Scribal memory included the basic gist of a text, not a verbatim mental copy. Thus, in this sense, memory variants mirror a scribe’s inexact memory of the text. Ultimately, however, this view of memory variants is deceptive because many memory variants are not necessarily errors—that is, they make sense (grammatically, semantically, and syntactically) within the context of the passage. Even more importantly, the predominantly multiform nature of texts in antiquity means that a specific composition could exist in several authentic forms at once. The whole notion of an exact replica assumes a normative model, and no such model existed. The integration of scribal memory into the scrolls also gave rise to a variety of spacing techniques. Scrolls were typically copied without the systematic use of punctuation or spacing. In some cases, however, scribes added spacing (1) to represent how compositions were orally performed and (2) to signal how to read a passage of poetry. Even within a single composition, a variety of different types of spacing sometimes occur. The spacing of 4QPsc (4Q85), for example, contains five different spacing techniques that probably cue different grades of conjunction and disjunction, such as a brief pause in speech or a full stop between psalms. Eventually, this function of spacing led to multiformity in spacing techniques, since the oral performance of compositions varied over time and between locations. Thus, some passages of poetry are spaced in a variety of different ways. The Dead Sea Scrolls stored the scribal memories of the written texts themselves, as well as scribal memories of how ancient Jews remembered, read, and wrote these texts in antiquity. As a consequence, the Dead Sea Scrolls not only reflect an interface between memory and texts, they also exhibit 34  Harris, Ancient Literacy, 32.

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a rich oral-written textuality—that is, they exhibit characteristics of both spoken communication and written communication. This oral-written textuality becomes particularly apparent when one examines certain scribal writing practices, such as stichography and special codes. On the one hand, stichography—the systematic placement of vacats between cola (or other poetic units)—functioned as a performance cue, as the increased spatialization and sense division of stichography facilitated reading poetry. Similarly, we observe the use of a variety of special codes, such as cryptic scripts, divine codenames, and scribal markings (e.g., the line-filler “X”), which reflect the manners in which texts were spoken. I labeled these sorts of scribal practices “keys to performance” because they are designed to signal some aspect of oral performance. On the one hand, some of these same scribal practices also function to represent a scribe’s understanding of the written form of the text. Stichography, for example, served as a graphical representation of both cola and parallelism within poetic texts. In this sense, stichography is also a graphical representation of scribal interpretation, as spatial division sometimes affects meaning. Similarly, the special stichographic arrangements of the Song of Moses (Deut 32) and Song of the Sea (Exod 15) represent specific ways of graphically arranging the written form of the text. In these special cases, the scribe was concerned with copying a specific graphical format of the text, which eventually developed into the special layouts of the Masoretic Text and Samaritan Pentateuch. Overall, scribes were not mere copyists. By incorporating their memory of both the written text and the spoken text into their copies, scribes interacted with compositions as traditional performers. Without a doubt, the Dead Sea Scrolls emerged from a world that privileged certain texts. Texts such as the Torah, for example, could be considered a “cultural text,” as it was “constantly taken up and reproduced.”35 In the communities associated with the Scrolls, cultural texts could carry both normative and formative authority for a society. Normative cultural texts codified “the norms of behavior,” whereas formative cultural texts “formulate the self-image of the group” and “transmit identity-confirming knowledge by narrating stories that

35  Jan Assmann, “Form as a Mnemonic Device: Cultural Texts and Cultural Memory,” in Performing the Gospel: Orality, Memory, and Mark, ed. Richard A. Horsley, Jonathan A. Draper, and John Miles Foley (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2006), 67–83, esp. 76. The term “cultural text” was coined by Clifford Geertz (see my discussion in the introduction to Chapter 2), but it was developed by Jan Assmann to include both formative and normative cultural texts. See Jan Assmann, Religion and Cultural Memory: Ten Studies, trans. Rodney Livingstone (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2006), 38.

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are shared.”36 Concerning the sectarian communities associated with the Dead Sea Scrolls, legal regulations and penal codes in the Community Rule (e.g., 1QS 5:1–7:25) functioned as normative cultural texts, whereas narratives of the sect’s origin in the Damascus Document (e.g., CD 1–8) served as formative cultural texts.37 Another particularly important formative cultural text was the Hodayot, an anthology of poetic thanksgiving hymns. Membership’s oral performance of the Hodayot functioned to produce collective identity, transform personal identity, and socialize members through narration of shared stories. In addition, the leadership read the Hodayot to self-identify with specific leadership offices, such as the Maskil. Through oral performance of the Hodayot, a leader could appropriate the performance role and institutional authority of the Maskil’s office. Cultural texts, such as the Hodayot, embodied the cultural memories of the communities, and both members and leaders performed them in order to become ideal sectarians. Indeed, as the centrality of cultural texts such as the Hodayot suggests, discerning and practicing the correct interpretation of texts was a primary focus of the sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls. Similar to other ancient Jewish movements, the sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls were textual communities that formed on the basis of shared reinterpretations of authoritative texts. That being said, we should not underappreciate the crucial role of orality. The sectarian communities may have privileged certain written texts, such as the Torah, but they did not privilege writing over orality. They also used oral-traditional texts to define their identity. In fact, similar to ancient Greece, oral communication of texts was at times more important than written copies of texts. We should bear in mind that most ancient Jews probably did not experience the Scrolls as written documents per se but by hearing them read aloud or recited from memory. Texts were principally experienced through public oral performance rather than private reading (of a written text). Whether at Qumran or at outlying settlements, oral performance was integral for members and leaders in the sectarian communities associated with the Scrolls. The various descriptions of orality in Rule Texts indicate that oral performance, oral tradition, and oral transmission were all interwoven into the fabric of their daily existence. The descriptions of oral performance during 36  Assmann, “Form as a Mnemonic Device,” 76; idem, Religion and Cultural Memory, 38, 104. 37  According to Grossman’s sociological study of the Damascus Document, these narratives are analogous to “foundation documents” from which the sect derived their group’s identity and created their group’s origins. See Maxine L. Grossman, Reading for History in the Damascus Document: A Methodological Study, STDJ 45 (Leiden: Brill, 2002), 30.

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nightly study sessions and general membership meetings, for example, indicates that oral performance functioned to adjudicate legal disputes, transmit oral-written sectarian regulations, and facilitate socialization and identity formation. In addition to inspired exegesis, the content of oral performance during community meetings included sectarian regulations and various speech acts such as oaths and blessings. In certain performance arenas, sectarian regulations were even taught through oral performance apart from written texts; moreover, legal authority was derived from the membership’s and the leadership’s oral performance. Authoritative texts were transmitted in writing and by word of mouth, and oral performance could be just as authoritative as written texts. Both communal identity and cultural memory were undoubtedly shaped by the leadership’s interpretation of authoritative texts. As textual communities, they depended on the exegesis of elite teachers, who invoked their novel interpretation of texts to challenge societal values and collective memory. Even more importantly, a large amount of the leadership’s interpretation of texts was orally communicated. In other words, these textual communities did not just crystallize around the leadership’s reinterpretation of written texts. Oral communication, oral tradition, oral texts, and oral-traditional texts were, in many cases, just as crucial and authoritative as written texts. For example, one body of authoritative oral tradition, described by diverse constructions with the term “mystery,” consisted of special, esoteric knowledge that was taught and transmitted by inspired teachers. Another equally important body of tradition, called “hidden” or “revealed” things, consisted of sectarian regulations and authoritative, inspired exegesis. These laws constituted the ruling, an oral-traditional text generated from oral performance during community meetings. In sum, the communities associated with the Scrolls are probably better described as oral-textual communities rather than textual communities. Their identity and worldview was formed on the basis of shared interpretations of authoritative texts, both oral and written. Overall, throughout this book I have approached the Dead Sea Scrolls as mediums for orality, writing, and memory. In the preceding chapters, I have endeavored to clarify a few advantages of this new metaphor for reading the Dead Sea Scrolls. If we view the Scrolls simply as written texts, we run the risk of underappreciating the oral background of scribal practices reflected in the Scrolls. The scribes who produced the Scrolls were not only concerned with reproducing the (written) text of compositions. They were performers who incorporated the oral register of language, as well as their own memories, into their written copies. This approach also underscores the oral-written context of the Scrolls. The communities associated with the Scrolls were oral-textual

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communities, and our reconstructions of their daily life should not neglect the crucial roles of memory and orality. Finally, this approach toward the Scrolls emphasizes that we should factor both orality and memory into our interpretations of the Scrolls. For example, it encourages us to consider how the scrolls were used in oral performance to construct the cultural memories of the communities associated with the Scrolls. To be sure, the Dead Sea Scrolls are isolated from their actual spoken, oral context in antiquity. They exist in a “passive,” “unreal,” and “unnatural world,” to borrow some of Ong’s characterizations of the written word, which disconnects texts from both the speaker and the audience.38 Written words, according to Plato, are similar to sculptures because they “stand there as if they are alive, but if anyone asks them anything, they remain most solemnly silent” (Phaedrus 275d). Oral communication, on the other hand, is an active twoway street, a give and take, between two real persons at a specific time in a real setting. “Spoken utterance,” in Ong’s words, “comes only from the living.”39 My approach throughout this book has attempted to view the Scrolls through the lens of this living socio-linguistic context. Although they may be “solemnly silent” written texts, the Dead Sea Scrolls nonetheless emerged from a world in which oral performance, writing, and memory were interlinked with one another. As a result, the Dead Sea Scrolls are not simply written records of ancient texts. They exhibit textual characteristics that were realized in speech, writing, and memory. What distinguishes a living text from a dead text? In one sense, we could think of this distinction in terms of use. Whereas a dead text is outmoded or irrelevant, a living text is current or relevant for a particular community. In this sense, according to Alison Schofield’s provocative characterization of community regulations, Rule Texts were “dead texts.”40 For Schofield, the contradictory regulations between different copies indicate that the Community Rule was “descriptive” rather than “prescriptive.”41 They are like historical records, snapshots of community praxis that are frozen in time. But we could also think of the distinction between dead texts and living texts in terms of change. According to Herbert Spencer, a nineteenth-century evolutionary biologist, “a living thing is distinguished from a dead thing, by the multiplicity of the changes at any moment taking place in it.”42 In this sense, the 38  Ong, Orality and Literacy, 79. 39  Ong, Orality and Literacy, 101. 40  Alison Schofield, “Rereading S: A New Model of Textual Development in Light of the Cave 4 ‘Serekh’ Copies,” DSD 15 (2008): 96–120, esp. 110. 41  Schofield, “Rereading S,” 110. 42  Herbert Spencer, The Principles of Biology, Vol. I (London: Williams and Norgate, 1864), 65.

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Dead Sea Scrolls were very much alive in the ancient Jewish world. The various conflicting snapshots of community life pictured in the Dead Sea Scrolls, when viewed synoptically, reflect constantly evolving texts. The multiformity scribal practices and pluriformity of texts indicate that many of the Dead Sea Scrolls were subject to continuous updating and scribal revision based on the changing needs and views of the communities associated with the Scrolls. In their ancient Jewish context, the scrolls discovered in the eleven caves near Qumran were anything but dead.

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Index of Ancient Sources Hebrew Bible Genesis 8:12 262n161 Exodus 14:29 136 15 117, 122, 124, 132–137, 150, 158–160, 187, 238, 275 15:1–3 135 15:3 135 15:6 133n61 15:11 133n61 15:16 133–134 15:16b 133n61 15:17 134–135 15:18 135–136 15:19 135–137, 159–160 15:16b–18 117 15:16b–19 117n2, 158 15:18 135–136 15:19–21 135 17:14 62 32:16 216, 220 Numbers 21:18 218 Deuteronomy 8:5–10 176–177 8:8 177 8:10 177 29:29 89 32 122, 149–150, 165–166, 187, 238, 275 32:1–43 161 32:37–43 161–163 32:38–43 162 32:38b–39 163 Joshua 12:9 158

Judges 4–7 137 4:17 138n77 5 158 Esther 9:7–9 158 Job

8–14 238 13–14 238 19:23–24 1 31–37 238 33:16 93n72

Psalms 10:6 136n68 16–53 238 16:6b–11a 128n36 16:7 130n46 17–18 238 17:4b–7 128n36 18:11 138–139 28:2 130n46 45:1 144 45:2 221 45:7 136n68 49:9b–11a 130 49:10 130n46 49:15 130n46 49:16 130n46 52:5b–11 123n26 52:10 136n68 82:5 131 83:9–11 137–138 83:11 138n77 91–118 238 92 238 94 238 96 238 102:23–24 139–140 104 166–168, 238 104:3–5 155–157, 167–168 104:3–14a 167 104:5 136n68

306 Psalms (cont.) 112 238 119 122, 132, 148–149, 238 119:44 136n68 119:44–45 139n78 145:1 136n68 145:21 136n68 Proverbs 1–2 238 1:27b–32 128n36 3:1 111 3:3 220 3:13 111 3:18 111 4:24 109 6:21–22 110n161 7:3 220 7:5 109 7:21 109 9 238 13–15 238 14:5–13 123n26 15:19–31 123n26 22:14 109 Isaiah 19:1–15 179 19:14–15 178–181 19:15b–22a 179 19:15 180 19:16 179–181 19:17 181 19:16–24 179 19:18 179–180 19:19 179–180 19:21 179–180 19:23 180 19:24 179–180 22:14 93n72 30:9–11 108 30:10 108 54:16 218 Lamentations 1 238 3 238 4 238

INDEX OF ancient sources Amos 1:11 263n168 Nahum 3:8 108 Habakkuk 1:12–13a 184 2:1–2 183 Jewish Apocrypha Ben Sira 6 238 14:20–21 173 Septuagint Exodus 15:7 127n29 Psalms 101:24–25 139 48:20–21 155n5 49:1–3 155n5 49:17–21 155n5 103:3–5 156 Texts from the Judean Desert 4QpapLXXLevb 121n19, 186 4QLXXNum 121n19 8ḤevXIIgr 121n19, 186 Papyrus Fragments P. Oxy 50.3522 P. Rylands 458 P. Fouad 266

121n19 121n19 121n19

Papyrus Codices Rahlfs 2082

155n5

Samaritan Pentateuch Exodus 15 164n17

307

INDEX OF ancient sources Abisha Scroll XXIII 38–41

163–164

Dead Sea Scrolls Damascus Document (CD) 1–8 190n20, 276 1:3 90n59 1:11–12 219 1:18 108 1:19 108 2:2 92 2:8 90n59 2:12–13 223 2:14 92 3:2–11 90n59 3:11 113 3:12–13 113 3:13–14 91 6:2–9 219 7:13 113 9–18 190n20 9:9–10 73 9:13 74 9:16–22 40 9:17–22 72n152 9:18–22 67, 69 10:1–3 73 10:4–6 73 12:20b–22a 63 12:22b–13:7a 63n116 13:2–3 74 13:6 69, 72 13:7 67, 71n149 13:7b–12a 63n116 13:7–8 69 13:7c–8 63 13:7–20 67 13:8 72n152 13:8–13 71 13:11 70–71 13:11–12 67–68, 71, 72n152 13:12 68–69, 72 13:12–16 69n141 13:13 67 13:14–15a 63 13:16 67

14:3–6 74, 105 14:3b–6 53–54 14:3b–12a 20, 54, 75 14:6–7 70 14:7 54, 70 14:7–8 72 14:8 72 14:8–11 40 14:8–12 54 14:9–10 68 14:10 69 14:10–11 69 14:11–12 55n75, 67, 69, 72n152 14:13 67 14:13–14 73 15:3 151 15:3–4 73 15:5b–6a 61 15:5b–10a 20, 58–59, 75, 212 15:5b–16:1a 57 15:7–9 71 15:7–15 67, 71 15:7–12 68–69 15:7–13 69 15:8 67, 70 15:8–14 67 15:10–14 92 15:11 67–68 15:12 71 15:13–14 91n65 15:14 67 15:14–15 69 16:10–12 57 16:19 73 19:5 113 19:14 113 20:18 107n148 20:27 113 20:27–30 20, 56–57, 75 Community Rule (1QS) 1:1c–2a 213 1:2b–3a 213 1:3 151 1:15 213 1:16–2:18 56 1:16–2:25a 57, 58n91 1:16–3:12 56

308 Community Rule (1QS) (cont.) 1:18–19 72, 74 1:20 57n82 1:21–22 74 1:24–26 20, 56–57, 75, 203 2:1 74 2:10 57n82 2:11 74n158 2:18 57n82 2:19 105 2:19–20 72 2:19–25a 56n78 2:25b–3:12 56n78 3:5 262n158 3:7 264 3:9 264n172 3:11 263n168 3:13 64 3:13–4:26 64 3:13–15 66 4:16 214 4:18 96n91 4:21 264n171 4:24 214 5:1–3 105, 114n176 5:1–4 73 5:1–20 64n120 5:1–7:25 190n20, 276 5:2 24n103, 74 5:2–3 105, 243 5:3 113n173 5:7c–9a 20, 56n80, 57–59, 75, 91n65, 212, 243 5:8–9 91, 92n69, 105, 243 5:9 105 5:20–24 71, 105 5:20b–24a 57, 58n91, 244–245 5:21 74 5:22–23 260–261 5:23–24 213n113 5:24 263n164 5:24–6:1 40 6:1 262n158, 263n164 6:1b–7a 20, 45–48, 49n44, 50n45, 54, 75 6:1c–3a 47 6:2 262n157 6:2–4 263n167

INDEX OF ancient sources 6:2c–4a 47n37 6:2c–3a 58 6:3 45n29 6:3–5 74 6:3b–7a 48 6:4–5 177 6:4 48 6:5 47 6:6–7a 48–50 6:6–8a 49–50 6:7b–8a 20, 24n106, 47–53, 75, 89 6:8 49n49 6:8b–9a 50, 53–55 6:8b–10a 54 6:8–13 74, 105 6:8b–13a 20, 24n103, 49n44, 59, 75 6:9–11a 105 6:9–12 69 6:9b–10a 55 6:11 55 6:10b–11a 55 6:11–12 54–55, 69 6:12 67, 70 6:12–13 55 6:13–23 71n149 6:13b–23 20, 57–59, 75, 245n76 6:13c–16a 92 6:14 70–71 6:14–15 71 6:14–16 71 6:15 58, 70, 73 6:18 58 6:18–19 105 6:19 58, 245n76 6:20 67 6:21 71 6:24–7:9 45 6:25 262n157, 262n163 6:27–7:2 186 7:1–2 147 7:3 263n166 7:16–17 261n156 7:22 263n164 8:3 263 8:5 262n163 8:8 262n163

309

INDEX OF ancient sources 8:8–13 72 8:11 90n59 8:13 262n163 8:16 264n171 8:26–9:2 244n73 9:3 24n103, 264n171 9:7 105 9:7–10 74 9:7–11 73 9:12 64 9:12–14 64n121 9:12–16 68 9:12–19 66 9:12–26a 64–66, 207, 211, 213–215 9:12–11:22 64 9:13–14 64, 66 9:14–16 214 9:15–16 66, 213 9:16 261n156 9:16–18 64 9:16–20 96 9:17 264n171 9:17–18 66 9:18 65, 96n89, 211 9:18–20 96 9:19 221 9:20 221, 262 9:21 64, 70 9:21–26 66 9:22 215 9:26a 66 9:26b 66 9:26b–10:8a 65–66, 215n119 10:2 263n166 10:3 262n158 10:5 65n125 10:6 65n125, 66, 216 10:8 65n129, 66, 216, 221 10:8–9 66, 151 10:8b–11:22 65–66, 215n119 10:9 65n129 10:10 65n129 10:16–17 264 10:18 263n164 10:20 263n168 10:23 65n129, 66 11:1 65n129

11:2 215 11:3 96n89 11:8 214n116 11:9 96n89 Rule of the Congregation (1QSa) 1:1 59 1:1–5 60 1:1–6a 20, 59, 61, 75 1:4–5 61–62 1:6–8 51n51, 60 1:6–2:11 61 1:6b–25a 61 1:15 73 1:24 73 1:25b–2:11a 61 1:29 73 2:3–10 61 2:11b–22 61 2:17–21 177 2:17–22 60 2:19 74n159 Priestly Blessing for the Last Days (1QSb) 3:23 113n173 Hodayot (1QHa) 1:1–8:41 195 2:14 198n53 [3:?]–4:40 222n150 4:29 204n75 4:29–30 222–223 5:12 65n128, 195, 207n91 5:12–14 197 5:12–6:33 65n128, 96, 195, 197, 207n91, 213 5:13–14 207 5:15 207 5:19 207 5:19–20 96 5:35 206n83 5:36 207 6:13 98n101, 198n55 6:19–20 207 6:19–22 207 6:23 206n83 6:28 206n83 6:28–33 170, 208, 212, 214

310 Hodayot (1QHa) (cont.) 6:29–30 208, 213–214 6:32 213, 215 6:34 195n39 6:36 206n83 7:12–20 198 7:13–19 204 7:14 204n75 7:18 204n75, 256n139 7:21 65n128, 195, 207, 222n150 7:21–25 170, 208, 212 7:21–8:41 65n128, 195, 207n91, 212, 222n150 7:22–25 205 7:25 206n83 7:35 206n83 7:38 206n83 8:15 198n53 8:20 207, 223 8:23–24 222–223 8:23–25 207 8:24 207–208, 211n104 8:26 207 8:28 206n83 8:28–30 204–205 8:30 264n171 [9:?]–10:4 197 9:1–19:5 195 9:21 96n91 9:23 98, 206n83 9:25 98, 144 9:29–33 191–192 9:32–33 198n53 9:32–35 204n75 9:35 204n75 9:35–36 98 9:36–39 197 10:5–21 109n154 10:6 258n145 10:8 256n137 10:9 211n104, 222 10:13 96n89, 206n83 10:15 96 10:15–21 109n154 10:23 107n143–n144 10:23–24 113 10:30 113n173, 206n83

INDEX OF ancient sources 10:33–34 108n153 10:33–11:5 108n153 11:20–37 196n42, 198, 200, 204 11:20–24 196n42, 200 11:22–24 204 11:24 198, 204n75, 206n83 11:29 256n139 12:2 113 12:6–13:6 108, 113 12:6 113 12:8 108 12:10–12 109n154 12:20 113 12:23 107n143, 107n148, 113, 206n83 12:24–25 114 12:24–26 113, 211 12:28 96n91, 113 12:28–29 211 12:29 96n92 12:31 206n83 12:35 113 12:35–38 203–204 12:35–36 204 12:36 113n174, 204 12:40 113 13:22 195n39 13:24 206n83 13:28 256n137 13:33 256n137 13:35 256n138 13:38 112n171 14:7 98n101 14:14 204n75 14:17 256n137 14:25 256n138 14:29 256n138 14:31 256n139 15:9–28 113 15:13 113, 209 15:14 211n104, 222 15:16 211n104, 222 15:21 206n83 15:22–23 113 15:23 107n143, 107n145 15:23–24 209 15:27 96n89

311

INDEX OF ancient sources 15:30 96 15:41 98n101 16:15 206n83 16:33 210 16:33–39 209 16:36–37 209, 220 16:38 109n155, 210, 220 17:8–11 210 17:23 96n89, 96n91 17:32 264n171 17:38 195n39 18:7 206n83 18:16 204n75 18:22 204n75 19:6 195n39, 206n83 19:6–7 197n51 19:6–9 150 19:6–29 197 19:6–20:6 96, 197–198 19:6–28:[41] 195 19:7 66 19:7–9 197 19:9 204n75 19:10 96n89, 206n83 19:12–13 96n92 19:13 96 19:19 96n91 19:19–20 96 19:20 91n65 19:26–27 197n49 19:27 204n75 19:28–29 198 19:31 211n104, 222 19:36 66, 197n51 19:37 211n104, 222 20:5 257–259 20:7 65n128, 66, 195, 197, 207 20:7–12 197, 207 20:7–22:42 65n128, 195, 197, 207n91 20:14 206n83 20:14–15 207, 223 20:14–16 207–208, 223 20:15 264n171 20:15–16 96n92 20:20 96n89 20:23 96n92

20:27 206n83 20:27–30 203 20:28–29 203 21:5–6 93n72 21:8 207 21:9 204n75 21:11 206n83, 256n139, 257n140 21:13 109n155, 220 21:34 207 22:8 206n83 22:12 206n83 22:14 107n143–n144 206n83 22:26 98n101 22:31 98n101 22:34–35 207 23:5 98n101 23:10 113n173 23:11 109n155 23:11–14 221 23:11–15 192 23:24 206n83 24:9 112n171 25:12 98n101 25:34 65n128, 195, 207n91 25:34–26:42 240 25:34–27:3 65n128, 96n92, 195, 207n91, 240 26:6 256n137 26:9–14 199, 207 26:13–14 198n53 26:14–15 96n92 26:15 91n65 26:26 207 26:27 256n139 26:28 256n139 26:31 256 26:31a 207 26:32–39 199 26:34 256n138 26:35 204n75 26:41 207 Pesher Habakkuk (1QpHab) 1:13 84n34 5:1–3 184 5:10 84n34

312 Pesher Habakkuk (1QpHab) (cont.) 6:11–13 183 7:1–5 219, 223 7:4–5 96n91 8:1–3 84n34 War Scroll (1QM) 16:16 96 Isaiah Scroll (1QIsaa) 15:17–20 180 15:19–20 180 15:20 179 15:20–21 181 15:20–30 179 15:23–24 179 15:25 179 15:29 179 16:1 179 Cave 1 1Q5 120n15, 121–124, 127n32, 129n40, 131n50, 161n12, 238 1Q8 179–181 1Q8 VII 7–8 181 1Q10 120n15, 121–124, 129n40, 131n50, 132, 149n124, 167n21, 238 1Q26 94 1Q26 1 4 96n91, 97n97 1Q27 94 1Q27 1 i 2–7 112 1Q27 1 i 3 96n89 1Q27 1 i 7 107n143, 107n146, 107n149, 112n168 1Q38 121, 238 Cave 2 2Q18 120n15, 121, 123, 131n50, 238 Cave 3 3Q3 120n15, 121, 123, 132, 149, 238

INDEX OF ancient sources Cave 4 4Q14 4Q14 VI 33 ii 40–42 4Q14 VI 33 ii 41 4Q14 VI 33 ii 42 4Q29

117, 124–128 126 128 128 120n15, 121–123, 129n39, 131n50, 161n12, 238 4Q30 120n15, 121–123, 129n39, 161n12, 238 4Q37 149 4Q41 149, 161n13, 174, 176–177 4Q41 I 1–8 176–177 4Q44 120n15, 121, 123, 127n33, 128n36, 129n39, 149, 157, 160n11, 161–166, 238 4Q44 I–II 1–11 162–163 4Q44 I 5–7 163 4Q44 I 5–8, 11 161, 163 4Q44 I 5–11 164 4Q44 I 6–8 163 4Q44 II 161 4Q44 II 7, 10 163n15 4Q45 120n15, 121–124, 127n33, 128n36, 129n39, 161n12, 238 4Q56 179–181 4Q56 10–13 26–27 180 4Q56 10–13 32–35 180 4Q84 120n15, 121, 123–124, 127n33, 128n36, 129n39, 131n50, 238 4Q84 XXI 13–16 139–140 4Q85 120n15, 121, 123–124, 127n32–n34, 129–130, 138–139, 174, 235–236, 238, 274 4Q85 1 1–2 130n46 4Q85 1 1–5 128n36 4Q85 6–7 6–8 130n46 4Q85 I–III 236 4Q85 I 13–15 i 22–23 130 4Q85 I 13–15 i 28–29 130n46

INDEX OF ancient sources 4Q85 I 13–15 i 28–31 130n47 4Q85 I 13–15 i 30–31 130n46 4Q85 II 15 ii 29 236n46 4Q85 III 15 iii +17 24–27 130n47 4Q85 III 15 iii +17 24–32 123n26 4Q85 III 15 iii +17 28 236 4Q86 120n15, 121–123, 129n39, 167–168, 238 4Q86 III 13 167n21 4Q89 120n15, 121, 122n20, 123, 129n39, 131n50, 148, 149n124 4Q90 120n15, 121, 122n20, 123, 129n39, 131n50, 148, 149n124, 238 4Q93 120n15, 121, 123, 129n39, 149, 155–157, 167–168, 238 4Q93 I 6–12 167 4Q93 I 7–12 156 4Q98f 120n15, 121, 123, 128n36, 238 4Q99 120n15, 121, 123, 238 4Q100 120n15, 121, 123, 238 4Q101 120n15, 121, 123, 238 4Q102 120n15, 121, 123, 128n36, 238 4Q102 1–2 29–33 128n36 4Q103 120n15, 121–124, 127n34, 128n36, 129n38, 174, 238 4Q103 2–4 1–6 123n26 4Q103 7 ii +11–14 1–13 123n26 4Q103a 238 4Q112 168 4Q115 168 4Q120 121n19, 186 4Q121 121n19

313 4Q163 23 ii 10 108n150 4Q169 3–4 iii 3–7 108n150 4Q169 3–4 iii 6–8 108 4Q171 3–10 iv 26–27 144, 221–223 4Q184 1 1–2 110 4Q184 1 3 107n143, 107n148 4Q184 1 8–9 111n167 4Q184 1 9 107n143, 107n149 4Q184 1 13b–17 110 4Q184 1 14–15 110 4Q184 1 14–17 109 4Q184 1 17 110n161 4Q185 107n148, 109, 111 4Q185 1–2 ii 11–12 110 4Q185 1–2 ii 11–15 109 4Q185 1–2 ii 13–15 110 4Q185 1–2 ii 15 111 4Q255 2 1 264 4Q255 2 4 264n172 4Q255 2 8 263n168 4Q256 54n72, 64n120, 65, 105, 243, 248n86 4Q256 IX 2–8 106, 243n69 4Q256 XVIII 3–4 262n162 4Q256 XX 5–6 264 4Q258 46n34, 48, 54n72, 56, 64n120, 65, 105, 243, 248n86, 260, 262, 262n161, 263–264 4Q258 I 2–7 106, 243n69 4Q258 II 1–2 244 4Q258 II 2–3 260–261 4Q258 II 4 263n164 4Q258 II 5 261n156, 263n164 4Q258 II 6 262n158 4Q258 II 6–8 263n167 4Q258 VI 2 262 4Q258 VII 1–3 244n73 4Q258 VIII 1 261n156 4Q258 VIII 2 264n171 4Q258 VIII 4–5 262n162 4Q259 56, 65, 215n119 4Q259 II 5 263n164 4Q259 II 11–12 263 4Q259 II 14 262n163 4Q259 II 17 262 4Q259 III 4 262n163 4Q259 III 13–14 261n156

314 Cave 4 (cont.) 4Q259 III 14–15 264n171 4Q259 III 19–IV 1 262 4Q260 65, 263 4Q260 II 1 263n166 4Q260 II 3 262n158 4Q260 IV 3 264 4Q260 IV 5 263n164 4Q260 IV 9–10 263n168 4Q261 262, 263n165 4Q261 1a–b 2–4 260–261 4Q261 1a–b 5 263n164 4Q261 3 3 262n157, 262n163 4Q261 4a–b 6 263n166 4Q261 6a–e 3–4 261n156 4Q262 1 3 262n158 4Q263 1 261n156 4Q263 3 262n157 4Q264 65 4Q265 4 ii 5–6 67 4Q266 2 i 5 92 4Q266 5 ii 1–2 148 4Q266 6 i 4 105 4Q266 8 i 6–9 61 4Q266 11 16 69 4Q266 11 8 70, 72n153 4Q266 11 7–16 71 4Q266 11 16 71 4Q266 11 7–16 71n148 4Q266 11 8–9 72 4Q267 56n80 4Q267 3 4 113 4Q267 5 iii 3–4 148 4Q268 1 7 92 4Q270 2 ii 13 96n91 4Q270 7 i 16 70 4Q270 4 iv 13–15 73 4Q275 66 4Q275 3 3 69, 72n153 4Q286 169–170 4Q286 7a ii 1–5 169–170 4Q287 169–170 4Q289 1 4 70, 72 4Q298 184–185 4Q299 94 4Q299 3a–b ii 9 107n143, 107n149 4Q299 6 ii 4 107n143, 107n149 4Q299 8 6 97n97

INDEX OF ancient sources 4Q299 43 2 107n143, 107n146, 107n149 4Q300 94 4Q300 1a ii–b 1–6 112 4Q300 1a ii–b 2 96n91 4Q300 8 5 107n143, 107n146, 107n149, 112n168 4Q301 1 2 107n143, 107n146, 107n149, 112n172 4Q319 65 4Q320 1 i 6–14 178 4Q320 1 ii 1–14 178 4Q320 2 9–14 178 4Q327 178 4Q365 117, 120n15, 121–129, 132–137, 157–160, 164, 166, 238 4Q365 6b 1 133–134 4Q365 6b 1–2 127, 134–135 4Q365 6b 1–6 125, 158–160, 172 4Q365 6b 2 127 4Q365 6b 3 123, 127n30, 135 4Q365 6b 3–5 127, 135–137 4Q365 6b 4 127 4Q365 6b 5 123, 127 4Q365 6b 6 127n30 4Q382 104 1 107n143–n144, 113 4Q394 1–2 i–iii 1–11 178 4Q401 14 ii 2–3 98n103 4Q401 14 ii 7–8 98n103 4Q415 94 4Q415 6 4 96n89 4Q416 94 4Q416 2 i 5 96n89 4Q416 2 iii 8–18 111 4Q416 2 iii 9 96 4Q416 2 iii 14–15 96 4Q416 2 iii 18 96n91, 97n97 4Q417 94 4Q417 1 i 2–6 96n89 4Q417 1 i 6–7 96, 97 4Q417 1 i 8–9 96n91, 97 4Q417 1 i 12–13 96n89 4Q417 1 i 24–25 96 4Q418 94 4Q418 10a+10b 1 97n97 4Q418 43–45 i 4 96n89 4Q418 77 4 96n89

315

INDEX OF ancient sources 4Q418 123 ii 4 96n91, 97n97 4Q418 177 7a 96 4Q418 184 2 97n97 4Q418 190 2 97n97 4Q423 5 1 97n97 4Q424 121, 123, 127n33–n34, 129n38, 238 4Q424 3 6–8 173–174 4Q424 1 4b–10 173–175 4Q427 242n68, 243, 257, 259 4Q427 3 2 257–259 4Q427 7 246 4Q427 7 i 6–23 240 4Q427 7 i 9 256n137 4Q427 7 i 11–12 242–243 4Q427 7 i 12–18 199 4Q427 7 i +9 240 4Q427 7 ii 3–23 240 4Q427 7 ii 8 256n139 4Q427 7 ii 9 256n139 4Q427 7 ii 12 256, 257n142 4Q427 7 ii 15 256n138 4Q427 7 ii 20a 256n137 4Q427 8 i 10 256n139 4Q427 10 1 256n139, 257n140 4Q428 256–257, 259 4Q428 8 1 256n137 4Q428 12 ii 1 257–259 4Q428 21 1 256n137 4Q428 21 1–5 240 4Q429 2 8 256n137 4Q429 3 4 256n137 4Q429 3 7 256n138 4Q429 4 i 12 256n138 4Q429 4 ii 7 256n138 4Q429 4 ii 12 256n139 4Q431 1–2 1–9 240 4Q431 1 1–9 240 4Q431 2 1–9 240 4Q431 2 7 256n139 4Q432 3 2 258n145 4Q432 3 5 256n137 4Q432 6 3 256n139 4Q432 7 4 107n143 4Q432 11 1 256n138 4Q442 3 5 107n143 4Q471b 242n68, 243, 246 4Q471b 1–3 1–10 240

4Q471b 1a–d 8–9 242–243 4Q477 39–41 4Q491 242n68, 243 4Q491 11 i 241 4Q491 11 i 8–18 241 4Q491 11 i 8–24 240 4Q491 11 i 18 242–243 4Q491 11 i 19 241 4Q491 11 i 20–24 241 4Q491c 246 4Q491c 1 1–11 241 4Q491c 1 1–17 240 4Q491c 1 12 241 4Q491c 1 13–17 241 4Q504 185 4Q505 185 4Q506 185 4Q511 2 ii 6 96n89 4Q511 63–64 ii 2–3 217 4Q521 120, 123, 129n39, 238 4Q525 107n148, 120, 121n18, 123,127n34, 129n38, 173–174, 238 4Q525 2­–3 ii 1 107n143, 107n147–n149 4Q525 2–3 ii 1–6 170–172 4Q525 11–12 2 107n143, 107n148– n149, 110n163 Cave 5 5Q5 120n15, 121, 122n20, 123, 129n39, 131n50, 148, 149n124, 238 5Q7 120n15, 121, 123, 149, 238 5Q16 121, 123, 238 5Q16 1–2 + 5 121n18 Cave 8 8Q2 120n15, 121, 123, 128n36, 129n40, 138–139, 238 8Q2 1–6 1–4 128n36 Cave 11 11Q5 120n15, 121–123, 129n39, 130n47,

316 Cave 11 (cont.)

131n50, 149n124, 167n21, 238 11Q5 VIII 8–9 139n78 11Q6 120n15, 121–123, 129n40, 131n50, 132, 149n124, 167n21, 238 11Q19 255

Texts from Other Sites in the Judean Desert 5/6ḤevPs 120n15, 121, 123 MasPsa  120n15, 121, 123, 128n36, 131 MasPsa 2:22–23 137–138 MasPsb  120n15, 121–123, 127n33 MasSir 120n15, 121, 123 Jewish Literature of the Second Temple Period Philo On Dreams 2.127 79 Josephus Antiquities 13.297 99 Theodotus Inscription 78

INDEX OF ancient sources Greco-Roman Literature Plato Laws 809e–810b 271 875c–d 271–272 Phaedrus 274c–278d 270 275a 271 275b 272 275c–d 272 275d 278 276a 272 276d 271 277d 272n30 Republic 601e–608b 271 Rabbinic Literature Talmud Bavli Shabbat 31a Shabbat 103b Menahot 31b Megilla 16b

98n104 158n7 158n7 158n7

Other Rabbinic Works Soferim 12:8–12

158n7

Index of Subjects Admission 56–59, 61, 67–69, 90–91, 193, 243–245 Acrostic 132, 149 Archetype see also Original Text 5–6, 8, 34–35, 245 Artefact 16n70, 43 Aural see also Oral Performance 15, 62, 86–88, 92–98, 115, 148, 197n47, 199, 209–210, 219–221, 253 Reception see Oral Transmission Text see also Oral Text 19, 37, 86, 88, 232n28 Authoritative Interpretation see Textual Interpretation; Oral Authority Authoritative Text 21–24, 51–52, 59, 100–104, 108–109 Authority see Oral Authority; Leadership Bible see Authoritative Text; Law of Moses Biblical Books 1–8, 10, 25n112, 202 Canon 99n108, 231 Commentaries see Pesharim Criticism 9–10 Poetry see also Poetry 118, 121–122, 210n99, 237, 266 Biblical Texts see Biblical Books Blessing 48, 50, 53, 57n82, 66, 71–72, 74, 96n92, 169–172, 177, 207 Book 2, 9, 202 Codes 28–29, 83–84, 87, 155–157, 182–187, 275 Codex 2n6, 8 Codices Aleppo Codex 131n49, 161–162, 167n22 Codex Ephraemi 154 Codex Sinaiticus 147, 154–157, 166 Codex Vaticanus 147, 155 Leningrad Codex 158–160, 165, 167–168 Cognitive Psychology 31, 144n99, 190n14, 250 Collective Identity see Identity Colometry 119–20, 145–47, 155–57, 166–68

Common Descent see Membership Comparative Oral Tradition 12–17 Confession 56–59, 74–75, 150, 203–206, 210–211, 224 Context see also Oral-Written Setting 80–83 Covenant 55–57, 61–62, 89–90, 112–114, 203–204, 206, 214, 260 Cryptic Scripts 87, 157, 184–185, 187, 275 Cultural Performance 44–45 Cultural Texts 30–32, 38, 190, 202, 206, 216, 223, 225, 275–276 Determinism see also Predestination  90n62 Digital Text 1–5, 8–9, 268–69 Disability 61 Edition see also Version 2–8, 10n46, 34 Education 24, 26–27, 44, 48, 50–51, 54–55, 58, 60–62, 64, 66–76, 79, 86, 88, 92, 96, 149, 151, 250–251, 271 Enactment 20, 43, 192, 208 Eschatology 60–61, 72, 94, 97–98 Essene 45–47, 150, 177n39 Ethnopoetics 11, 15, 44, 194 Exegesis see Textual Interpretation Fictionalized Past see Historical Memory Folklore 13, 80–83 Form Criticism 10, 13, 194–195 Great Divide 13, 19, 52, 26n114, 81, 217, 271 Hidden Things see Law Higher Criticism see Biblical Criticism History see also Historical Memory  84n32, 202, 206, 215–216, 244, 248 Hymns 32–33, 65–66, 190–191, 196–200, 224–225, 246 Community Hymns 195–196 Hymns for the Maskil 65–66, 96, 212–214 Self-Glorification Hymn 35, 198–200, 239–243, 245–247 Teacher Hymns 195–196, 215–216

318 Identity Identity Construction 30, 32–33, 57, 91, 188–190, 200–225, 276 Identity of Leadership 208–216 Identity of Membership see also Common Descent 57, 75, 90, 202–208, 216 Group Identity 190, 202–204 Personal Identity 188–189, 202, 204–206, 216 Sectarian Identity see also Sectarian  202–206, 208 Traditional Identity 83–84 Initiation see Admission Inheritance 110–111, 213–214 Inspiration see Revelation Intermedial 19, 82, 85, 88 Interval 128, 236 Judges 73–74 Law Law of Moses 48–49, 51–53, 59, 61–62, 67, 69, 72, 75, 79–80, 89–92, 100–101, 108–109 Hidden and Revealed Law see also Mysteries 2, 21, 82, 89–94, 101n117, 113–114 Oral Law 21, 79, 98–103 Sectarian Laws see also Ruling 47–48, 52–55, 57–62, 64, 67, 69, 72–73, 75, 82, 89–93, 103–105, 108–109, 112–113, 148, 151, 221, 243 Written Law 98–101 Layouts 28–29, 87, 157–166, 187, 275 Leadership see also Identity of Leadership  42 Authority of 211–221 Groups see Priests; Judges Hierarchy 54–55 Offices see also Maskil; Mebaqqer (Overseer); Paqid; Teacher of Righteousness 54, 62–63, 191–193, 207–208, 212–216, 221–224 Oral Performance of 62–63, 65–67, 69, 71–72, 74–76, 102–106, 112–113, 207–224 Literacy see also Education; Oral-Written Setting 13–14, 19, 22, 24–28, 37, 43, 88, 270–273

INDEX OF SUBJECTs Liturgy 27, 32n143, 53, 56–57, 66, 72–75, 141–142, 149–150, 169–170, 177, 193–200, 207, 224–225 Angelic Liturgy 196–200, 239 Lower Criticism see Biblical Criticism Manuscript 10, 15, 16n70, 31, 41, 100–102, 231–233 Maskil 23, 33, 62–66, 68, 96, 184–185, 191–192, 207–224 Masoretic Accents 137–138, 140, 167–168 Scribes 138, 141, 166, 168 Text 4n18, 29, 34n147, 141, 187 Mebaqqer (Overseer) 40, 54–55, 62–63, 66–72, 76, 92 Media see also Medium Criticism 10–11 Mix see Intermedial Studies 11–12, 81, 267–270 Taxonomy 84–85, 114 Medium 8–9, 29, 82, 267–268 Medium and Memory 29, 101–102, 189, 230, 232 Medium and Message 101n114, 267–270 Medium and Technology 268–269 Meetings Local Chapter 45–48 Nightly Study Session 48–53, 150, 193 General Membership 49–50, 53–55, 150 Covenant Renewal Ceremony 55–57, 150, 193, 203 Meeting of Israel in the Last Days  59–62 Membership see also Identity of Membership 42 Common Descent of 57, 83, 202–206 General Membership 48–50, 53–55, 67 Hierarchy of Membership 67–69, 72, 74, 214–215 Oral Performance of 47–48, 53–62, 74–76, 104–106, 191, 202–206, 208 Socialization of 59, 61, 75, 202, 206 The Many 49n43, 70–71, 74, 104–106 Memorization 20, 27, 30, 36, 44, 50, 86–87, 109n155, 144n99, 149, 166, 220, 250–251, 271–272 Memory and Identity 57, 188–190, 202–206

INDEX OF SUBJECTs Memory and Written Texts see also Medium and Memory 26n114, 43, 50, 87–88, 100n113, 101–102, 151, 270–273 Memory Failure 200–202, 250 Memory Studies 29–30, 207 Memory Types see also Scribal Memory Collective 22, 31, 232 Cultural 23, 29–31, 33, 40, 55–57, 83, 113, 189–191, 202, 215–216, 223 Gist 36, 251, 254, 258, 274 Historical 56–57, 83, 150, 202–206, 215–216 Personal 32, 188–190, 235 Verbatim 250 Memory Systems 31 Episodic 35, 234–237, 247–249 Explicit 188, 234 Implicit 189 Long-Term 30–31, 35, 37, 233–234, 253 Procedural 234 Semantic 31, 234, 249–250 Sensory 234, 250, 253 Short-Term 30, 36–37, 233–234, 249–251 Working 31, 36, 234, 249, 251 Messiah 60, 74n159 Mouvance 15–16, 227–229, 232–233, 245, 273 Multiformity 15–16, 26, 31, 33–35, 227–29, 227–233, 245, 272–273 Music see also Singing 8n36, 65n129, 145–146, 150–151, 168, 197–198, 226–229 Musical Notation 145–146 Musical Score 118, 144–146 Mysteries 21, 82, 107, 112, 114, 219–220, 277 Mysteries of Belial 112 Mystery of Existence 24, 94–98, 111–112, 114 Wonderful Mysteries 64–66, 94–98, 109n154, 111, 114, 211 Neuropsychology 200–201 Neuroscience 30, 188–190 New Philology 10, 15, 16n70, 81 Oath 58–59, 69, 73, 91, 170, 212–215 Oral Authority 54–55, 58–59, 69, 75–76, 100–106, 115, 216–224 Communication 80–81, 88, 116, 142–144, 152, 191–192, 209–210, 271–273, 278

319 Communities 18, 24–25, 38 Composition 13, 93–98, 87–89, 93–95, 227 Context see also Oral-Written Setting  80–83, 97, 111 Examination 55, 58, 67–74, 76, 92, 105 Instruction see also Education 97–98, 106–115, 209–211, 216–224 Literacy see Oral-Written Setting Medium 20–21, 87–88, 91 Performance 15, 20, 28–30, 32–33, 41–44, 50–51, 74–76, 79, 86–87, 94, 97–98, 103–106, 140–144, 166, 168–170, 182, 186, 191–192, 203–204, 232–233, 276–277 Poetry 12–13 Register 27–29, 118, 140–144, 157, 168 Testimony 73 Text 18–21, 24n103, 93–94 Tradition 14, 21, 24, 33, 79–81, 95, 97, 100–101, 112, 218 Transmission see also Oral-Written Transmission 62, 79, 81, 86–88, 92–95, 98–101, 104–115, 272–273 Oral-Derived Texts 19, 79, 82 Oral Interpretive Traditions 79–80, 83 Orality 18–21, 24, 27, 44 Oral-Textual Community see Textual Community Oral-Traditional Texts 21, 24, 79–80, 82, 84–85, 88–90, 93, 254 Written Oral Poems 85–86 Voiced Texts 85–87 Voices from the Past 85, 87–93 Oral Performance 85, 93–98, 114 Oral-Written Mediums see also Intermedial 11, 13–14, 81, 85, 88, 91–93, 100 Performance 33, 35, 146–147, 216–224 Register 28, 87, 155, 157, 166 Setting 19–20, 24–27, 30, 37, 80­–83, 88–89, 93, 100–101, 143–144, 157 231, 236–37, 245, 251, 270–273 Text 23–24, 43, 52, 89, 218–221 Textuality 16, 27–29, 87, 100–101, 116, 142–143, 146–147, 157–158, 183, 187, 274–275 Tradition 83–84 Transmission 87–88, 100, 115

320 Original Text see also Multiformity 2–3, 5–8, 10, 34–35, 37, 226–229, 244–246, 254, 256–261, 265–266, 273 Paqid 62–63, 70–73 Parallelism 128, 132–137, 166, 168 Pedagogy see Oral Instruction; Education Performance Arena 44n24, 59, 83, 86, 106, 115, 232 Criticism 32–33, 192 Cues 168–177, 180, 182–184, 236, 273, 275 Role 63, 184–185, 207–215, 221–224, 276 Performative Utterance see Speech Acts Pesharim 83–84, 106–107, 218, 255 Poetic Structure Line 116–117, 119–120, 145–146 Colon 117n1 Hemistich 117n1 Poetry see also Biblical Poetry 110, 116, 118, 145–147, 149, 151 Prayer 53, 65–66, 177, 185, 193–194, 197 Predestination 90n62, 97, 111 Priests 48, 55, 59, 70–74, 76, 105–106, 177, 243–245 Pristine Texts 6–7 Psalm see Hymn Qumran 17–18, 40–41, 45–46, 49, 73, 75 Qumran Community see also Yaḥad; Sectarian 84n32 Reading Cues see Performance Cues Reading Practices 19–20, 29, 35, 50–53, 78–80, 86–90, 118, 140–144, 147–148, 152–153, 157, 168–180, 183, 236–237, 180, 182–184, 186, 219–220, 232 Recension see also Version 239–241, 248 Recitation 27, 3, 50, 53, 65, 98, 147–149, 166, 194, 198, 203–204, 208–211 Regulations see Law; Rule Texts; Ruling Revelation Divinely Inspired 96–98, 102–103, 111, 113–114, 207, 209–212, 220–224 Progressive 100, 102, 115 Rule Texts 17, 20, 40–42, 93, 248 Ruling 48, 52, 54–55, 61–62, 80, 82, 88–89, 93, 104–105

INDEX OF SUBJECTs Sapiential see Wisdom Samaritan Pentateuch 29, 34n147, 161–166 Septuagint 121n19, 127n29, 139, 155–157 Scribal Copying 118, 143–144, 149, 231, 251–259, 273, 275 Interpretation 22, 118, 137–140, 180–181, 275 Markings 182–184, 256 Memory 3, 5, 29–35, 152–153, 230–234, 236–237, 242, 245–246, 252–255, 260–261, 273–274 Performance 9–11, 12n53, 16n71, 26, 28, 32, 118, 143–148, 229–233, 275 Practices 16, 26–29, 87, 140–146, 182–187, 277 Scribal Errors see also Variants 35n150, 36–37, 45n30, 156, 251–254, 256–259, 262 Aural/Oral 36, 251–253 Graphic 251–253 Haplography 257–258 Parablepsis 253 Scribe 25n112, 27, 35–37 Scriptio Continua 15n66–n67, 116, 124, 144–145, 158, 186 Scripture see also Authoritative Text; Law of Moses 4n18, 26n114, 51–52, 90, 99n110, 101, 108, 147–148, 217–218, 237 Sectarian 17n75, 20, 41, 109 Sectarian Regulations see Law Singing see also Music 65n129, 150–151, 197–198 Smooth Things 106–110, 115 Socialization see Membership, Socialization of Song of Moses 29, 149–150, 161–166 Song of the Sea 29, 124–128, 150, 158–160 Spacing Techniques 28–29, 87, 141–142, 145–147, 166–181, 187, 235–237, 274–275 Speech Acts 47–48, 53, 55–57, 59, 66, 69, 72n153, 75, 152, 169–170 Spoken Communication see Oral Communication Stichography Corpus 120–122 Description of 28, 116–120, 235 Features of 121–122

321

INDEX OF SUBJECTs Literary Functions of 128–140, 157 Oral Functions of 140–148, 157 Setting 148–151 Systems 122–124, 238 Techniques 127–132 Stichometry 118–20, 122n22 Teacher of Righteousness 23, 83–84, 102, 195, 215–224 Tetragrammaton 127n29, 148, 185–187, 199–200 Text 16n70, 18–19, 23, 43, 80–82, 192, 232 Text Type 34–35, 239 Textual Development 48, 245–246, 252 Community 22–25, 29–30, 38, 116, 217, 276–277 Composition 5–6, 10n46, 86–88 Copying 31–32 Criticism see also Biblical Criticism  5–10, 245, 254 Interpretation 50–53, 55, 82–83, 89–91, 96, 103–104, 106–110, 112–114, 218–220, 276 Pluriformity see Multiformity; Mouvance Transmission 4–6, 8n39, 10–11, 16, 20–21, 31, 86, 88, 99–104, 165–166, 231–233 Textuality 18–22, 28, 43 Texture 80–81 Torah see Law of Moses

Tradition see also Oral Tradition 21, 23n98, 80, 110–111, 232 Traditional History see also Historical Memory 84 Vacat 65n125, 128, 159, 166–181, 205n80, 212 Variants see also Scribal Error 4–8, 10, 31, 33–36, 228, 244–249, 251–264, 274 Additions and Omissions 256, 263–264 Double Reading 259 Memory Variant 36–37, 251–255 Morphological 256, 261–262 Oral Variant 252–253 Reordering 259, 264 Substitutions 256, 262–263 Synonymous Readings 257, 259 Syntactical 256 Version 54, 239–245, 227–229, 239–241, 245–249, 257–261, 274 Wisdom 27n122, 107, 109–111, 115, 173 Word Power 83 Work 16n70, 81 Worship see Liturgy Written Medium 80, 88, 271–272 Written Text 95, 101–104, 115, 160, 271–272, 278 Written Law see Law Yaḥad see also Sectarian 17–18, 40–41, 45–48, 49n43