On Dating Biblical Texts to the Persian Period: Discerning Criteria and Establishing Epochs (Forschungen Zum Alten Testament 2.Reihe) 9783161556500, 9783161565830, 316155650X

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Forschungen zum Alten Testament 2. Reihe Edited by

Konrad Schmid (Zürich) · Mark S. Smith (Princeton) Hermann Spieckermann (Göttingen) · Andrew Teeter (Harvard)

101

On Dating Biblical Texts to the Persian Period Discerning Criteria and Establishing Epochs

Edited by

Richard J. Bautch and Mark Lackowski

Mohr Siebeck

Richard J. Bautch, born 1961; 2001 Dr. theol. (University of Notre Dame); since 2012 Professor of Humanities, St. Edward’s University. Mark Lackowski, born 1985; 2015 S.T.M. (Yale University).

ISBN 978-3-16-155650-0 / eISBN 978-3-16-156583-0 DOI 10.1628/978-3-16-156583-0 ISSN 1611-4914 / eISSN 2568-8367 (Forschungen zum Alten Testament, 2. Reihe) The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliographie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2019 Mohr Siebeck Tübingen.  www.mohrsiebeck.com This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that permitted by copyright law) without the publisher’s written permission. This applies particularly to reproductions, translations and storage and processing in electronic systems. The book was typeset by Martin Fischer in Tübingen, printed on non-aging paper by Laupp & Göbel in Gomaringen, and bound by Buchbinderei Nädele in Nehren. Printed in Germany.

Table of Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 David M. Carr Criteria and Periodization in Dating Biblical Texts to Parts of the Persian Period . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 Joseph Blenkinsopp The Earliest Persian Period Prophetic Texts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 Dalit Rom-Shiloni What is “Persian” in Late Sixth Century b.c.e. Prophetic Literature? Case Studies and Criteria . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 Georg Fischer SJ Jeremiah’s Relations with the “Minor Prophets”: A Window into the Formation of the Book of the Twelve . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55 Lena-Sofia Tiemeyer Dating Zechariah 1–8: The Evidence in Favour of and against Understanding Zechariah 3 and 4 as Sixth Century Texts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65 Reinhard Achenbach The ’ămānāh of Nehemiah 10 between Deuteronomy and the Holiness Code . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 79 Yigal Levin Why Did Zerubbabel’s Adversaries Emphasize Their Foreign Origins? . . . . 91 Konrad Schmid How to Identify a Persian Period Text in the Pentateuch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101 Raik Heckl The Aaronic Blessing (Numbers 6): Its Intention and Place in the Concept of the Pentateuch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119

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Table of Contents

Richard J. Bautch Dating Texts to the Persian Period: The Case of Isaiah 63:7–64:11 . . . . . . . . 139 Jill Middlemas Dating Esther: Historicity and the Provenance of Masoretic Esther . . . . . . . 149 List of Contributors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169 Index of References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171 Index of Modern Authors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 182 Index of Subjects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187

Introduction The extent to which the Persian period affected the development of the Scriptures has been the subject of renewed interest in the last two decades. Increasing numbers of texts have been suggested as coming from or edited during the Persian period, but these discussions do not always reflect extensively on the assumptions used in making these claims or the implications on a broader scale. For example, in earlier generations, it was sufficient for scholars to categorize secondary material in many of the biblical books simply as “late” or “postexilic” without adequately trying to determine when, by whom, and why material was incorporated into earlier texts over this 200-year period. That practice is and should be changing as scholars must now take the question of Persian-period influence seriously in the case of virtually every text. Further, discussion about Persian-period influence on the Bible has largely taken place in isolated clusters. Those working on prophetic texts tend to converse with other specialists in Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and the Twelve. Those working on the development of the Torah and the Former Prophets have had, perhaps, more conversations among specialists about the extent of material from the Persian period in those writings, but much remains to be done in relating those conversations to other parts of the canon. Work on Psalms regarding their composition, collection, and editing needs to be included, as well as narratives whose setting depicts events and characters in the Persian period (Ezra-Nehemiah, Esther). Significantly, the Persian-period provenance of these narratives has come under increased scrutiny, with many now claiming these texts may derive from or were extensively revised during the Hellenistic period. In short, the claims for Persian-period influence or origins have ballooned, but there is a place for sustained discussions across the boundaries of the Tanak. Likewise, there are biblical themes that extend across the Tanak, such as the legacy of monarchic Israel, the burgeoning perspective of the Priestly writers expressed in different textual forms, and the ongoing interpretation of prophecy and in particular of earlier prophetic oracles. Each of these themes was reiterated in the Persian period with all manner of variation. Because the themes are expressed variously in the Scriptures, there is real value to locating them not generically in the Persian period but with specificity in the time between Cyrus and Alexander. This volume’s distinctiveness is found in 1) the focus upon a specific time period whose importance for biblical studies is becoming increasingly appreciated; and 2) the interdisciplinary approach to topics being discussed in isolation. The editors and contributors hope to spur serious discussion between and among

2

Introduction

scholars who approach the Persian period through the Torah, Nevi’im, and Ketubim. The fruit of this discussion will include, among other things, a greater degree of precision when scholars assign texts to the Persian period; many of the essays in this volume employ the designations early Persian, middle Persian, and late Persian in their analysis of biblical texts. These eleven studies provide a more granulated understanding of the historical context from which the Scriptures emerged in Yehud and the corresponding diaspora. Collectively, the studies provide a close picture of the Persian period subdivided into three stages that are both literary and theological in design. To continue this introduction, each essay is described and its salient points distilled. Employing literary, historical, and linguistic criteria, David Carr’s programmatic essay distinguishes between texts produced early in the Persian period and those from later in the period. Carr observes that literarily texts from the beginning of the Persian period would be less likely to feature an emphasis on pentateuchal traditions (particularly Priestly pentateuchal traditions), less inclined to reflect Persian sponsorship (and perhaps more likely to feature extravagant hope for a return to a sovereign Israel), and more likely to be written in archaic Hebrew. By the end of the Persian period and beginning of the Hellenistic period, there appear texts with a more explicit emphasis on Persian sponsorship, links to the combined Pentateuch (with an increasing emphasis on Priestly traditions), and the occasional breakdown of the archaic Hebrew literary dialect, including more mixing of Aramaic and other (especially Persian) isoglosses. Carr asks who might be responsible for the Persian period texts found in the Bible and finds it more likely that priests have accounted for most of the Hebrew textuality in Persianperiod Yehud (as opposed to a scenario in which both priests and non-priests shared or transferred control over major normative texts across this period). He concludes that a consistent differentiating feature across the Persian period appears to be the move from remnants of scribal diversity and old literary standards at the outset to some breakdown of those scribal standards along with the emergence of Priestly domination of scribalism toward the end of the Persian period. Whereas Carr develops his essay increasingly along literary-critical lines, Joseph Blenkinsopp takes a more historical-critical approach, especially for dating texts early in the Persian period. Blenkinsopp eschews terminology such as exilic and postexilic because of what he calls its imprecise parameters. He instead adopts categories that refer to well known, specific, external events of immediate relevance to Jewish communities in Judah and elsewhere, including deportations that can be dated (597, 586, and 582 b.c.e.) and well-documented imperial epochs, namely the “Neo-Babylonian” (597–539 b.c.e.) and the “early Persian” (539–486 b.c.e.). Regarding the latter, Blenkinsopp develops a flexible set of criteria for dating biblical texts to the early Persian period: 1) dates within the text can be synchronized with the chronology for the early years of an Achaeme-

Introduction

3

nid king’s reign, often by referencing the Behistun trilingual inscription; 2) the text mentions individuals with Persian or Median names, such as the two individuals with the Persian theophoric named Mithredath at Ezra 1:8; 4:7; 3) characteristic features of Persian court life attested in the Greek historians recur in biblical texts; 4) specialized vocabulary such as “the satan” (‫ הׂשטן‬Job 1–2 and Zech 3:1–2) and “linen undergarments” (‫ מכנסים‬Exod 28:42; Lev 6:3; 16:4; Ezek 44:18) indicates a correlation between Persian royal discourse and biblical texts written in the 6th or 5th century b.c.e. These four elements, taken individually or together, serve to corroborate an early Persian period date for a given text. Blenkinsopp concludes by refining the standard view that prophetic collections such as Jeremiah and Isaiah underwent a process of expansion and reconfiguration during the Persian period. His treatment of Jeremiah is especially noteworthy as he examines prose passages, the Jeremian Prosareden, which are generally thought to be later and secondary. Blenkinsopp argues for dating one such passage, Jer 12:14–17, to the Neo-Babylonian period but cautions against attempting a more precise dating such as 582 b.c.e., when the Babylonians made their final assault on Jerusalem. Blenkinsopp notes how a Davidic successor, intimated in Prosareden such as Jer 23:5–6 and its parallel in Jer 33:14–16, is referenced in Zechariah (Zech 3:8; 6:12) as well as Jeremiah. He concludes that such multiple attestations provide stronger support for the hypothesis of an early Persian period date for these two Jeremian Prosareden. While Blenkinsopp focuses on prose passages in the book of Jeremiah, oracles that may be dated to the Persian period and ascribed to Jeremian tradents are no less noteworthy. Dalit Rom-Shiloni’s essay focuses, among other things, on the notion of the empty land, an “axiomatic myth” that scholars often associate with the Persian period but which, as Rom-Shiloni shows, has its origins early in the 6th century b.c.e. Jeremiah as well as Ezekiel paved the way for notions of the empty land by conceiving of the Babylonian destruction theologically as a divine judgment. The empty land, in fact, was simply one element in Jeremiah’s account of an omnipotent God who fights against his own people after they have sinned. As a sole and omnipotent warrior, God causes tremendous transformations to the land and its environs, much beyond what human kings and armies could ever have done. As a result, the cities become heaps of ruins (‫גלים‬, Jer 9:10; ‫עיים‬, Jer 26:18) as destruction is visited upon the temple (Jer 22:5) and the city (Jer 26:17). When the oracles of Jeremiah were rearticulated slightly thereafter, tradents delimited the prophet’s scope and focused on one aspect, the empty land of Judah. Rom-Shiloni notes that after Jeremiah, the portrayal of the empty land motif comes to the fore in both the Babylonian exilic prophecies associated with this prophet and the repatriate layers of the Jeremian tradition (Jer 33:10–11, 12–13). Like Rom-Shiloni, Georg Fischer focuses on oracles in Jeremiah that are prophesied anew in the Persian period, but in the name of another prophet,

4

Introduction

namely Zechariah. To begin, Fischer observes that Jeremiah’s literary dependence on the Twelve Prophets is extensive. Specifically, Jeremiah draws upon Amos, Hosea, and Micah from the 8th century as well as Nahum, Habakkuk, Obadiah, and Zephaniah from the 7th century. By the early Persian period, however, such literary dependence reverses direction as Zechariah uses Jeremiah as a source. Fischer demonstrates how Zechariah adopts expressions and ideas from the book of Jeremiah only to reverse them. Whereas Jeremiah details Jerusalem’s downfall and destruction, Zechariah describes positively the new role of Judah’s capital. Linguistically, there are exclusive relationships between Jeremiah and Zechariah such as ‫“ גאון הירדן‬the jungle of the Jordan” (Jer 12:5; 49:19; 50:44; Zech 11:3) and ‫“ ארץ צפון‬the land of the North” (Jer 3:18; 6:22; Zech 2:10; 6:6, 8). Fischer concludes that the author(s) of Zechariah used motifs and ideas from Jeremiah to effectively reverse the negative portrayal of Jerusalem that is found in Jeremiah. By using the same terms and similar ideas as Jeremiah, but in a different manner and context, Zechariah extends the work of his prophetic predecessor in new directions. In Fischer’s view, these developments clearly point to some time within the Persian period, and not simply in terms of Zechariah’s composition; in this period Fischer locates both the emergence of the book of the Twelve and the compilation of the book of Jeremiah. Studying the links between Jeremiah and the Twelve allows a glimpse into their concurrent literary processes, likely in the 4th century b.c.e. Another biblical collection, the books of Ezra and Nehemiah, is synonymous with the Persian period, but the essays here by Yigal Levin and Reinhard Achenbach make temporal distinctions that demarcate strata within these two texts. Levin takes up a historical issue embedded in Ezra 4:2: “They approached Zerubbabel and the heads of families and said to them, ‘Let us build with you, for we worship your God as you do, and we have been sacrificing to him ever since the days of King Esarhaddon of Assyria who brought us here.’” Levin asks, Why would the leaders of Samaria in the early Persian Period, both when addressing the Jewish returnees with their offer to participate in the building of the Temple and in their letter to Artaxerxes denouncing the returnees, choose to present themselves as the descendants of those foreigners whom the Assyrians had deported to Samaria two centuries earlier? If they wanted Zerubbabel and his group to give them a role in the new temple, why emphasize their foreign origins? Levin first establishes the comparability of the Babylonian returnees to Yehud under Zerubbabel’s leadership and the inhabitants of Assyrian-ruled Samerina, after its final conquest in 720 b.c.e., when the Assyrians populated the former northern kingdom of Israel with foreign elites as well as craftsmen and farmers. Levin proposes that because the leaders of Samaria engaging Zerubabbel were the descendants of the deportees to Samarina, they saw in the Judahite returnees a group very similar to their ancestors: people sent by the ruling empire to settle a depleted land; they worshipped the local deity but remained somewhat aloof

Introduction

5

from the local population, as evidenced a generation or so later in the “mixed marriage crises” of Ezra 9–10 and Neh 13. They may have considered the new arrivals to be natural allies, and as a result they emphasized what they saw as their common characteristics: “We worship your God as you do, and we have been sacrificing to him ever since the days of King Esarhaddon of Assyria who brought us here” (Ezra 4:2). Methodologically, Levin’s study exemplifies the value of locating a text such as Ezra 4:2 with precision, that is in the early Persian period, in order to interpret and explain historical references that are embedded in the verse. Achenbach’s essay focuses on the literary core of Neh 10, which comprises a range of legal measures including endogamy; merchandise sold on the Sabbath and on holy days; seventh-year rules (fallow ground and cancellation of debt); obligatory contributions that are offered in temple worship; the delivery of wood, firstfruits, and firstborn; the tithe of the Levites; and a general commitment never to neglect the temple of God. Because each of these concerns appears as well in the pentateuchal traditions, Achenbach compares the Bible’s first five books with what is found in Neh 10. With each issue, Achenbach differentiates the legal approach in Neh 10 from that found in the pentateuchal sources, be it the Deuteronomic and Deuteronomistic writers (on for example the issue of endogamy), the Covenant Code (on for example the question of seven-year rules), the Priestly writer (on the issues of temple sacrifices and the preeminence of Aaronites or Zadokites), or the writers of the Holiness Code (on for example both Sabbath regulations and the seven-year rules). Achenbach demonstrates that the legal precepts of Neh 10 consistently stand apart from and often predate the pentateuchal regulations, especially those of the Holiness Code. He concludes that H was not established sacral law at the time of Nehemiah, and so H should not be dated earlier than the 2nd half of the 5th century b.c.e., which is when Achenbach locates the original core of the book of Nehemiah. He moreover underscores the value of Neh 10 for dating texts within the Persian period; in the middle of the 5th century, Judean legal discourse was much more fluid than we might imagine. Nehemiah 10 provides a valuable Achaemenid window on the development of Torah and the formation of the Pentateuch. Situating the formation of the Pentateuch within the Persian period is a thorny matter. Konrad Schmid’s essay on the Pentateuch demonstrates the various ways in which the first five books reflect the Persian Empire as the historical background of their authors and compilers. To start, Schmid reviews the considerable evidence that the Pentateuch is basically a pre-Hellenistic text. Because there is no correlative evidence that the Pentateuch is pre-Persian, he situates the Pentateuch temporally in the Persian period. The primacy of the Persian context is maintained with the understanding that the Pentateuch also contains older texts that date back to the monarchic period. Schmid further considers the methods of linguistic dating that have been brought to bear on the Pentateuch. With a few exceptions, the Pentateuch is written in Classical Biblical Hebrew (CBH), a fact

6

Introduction

that has led scholars to associate the text with the preexilic period. To challenge, Schmid argues that composition in CBH as opposed to Late Biblical Hebrew (LBH) indicates a text’s theological perspective within the biblical tradition and not, or at least not directly, its historical date. Schmid, moreover, cautions against using linguistic features alone for dating and shows that they should be employed in conjunction with other data and perspectives, such as theological profiles, intertextual links, and geographical as well as archaeological studies. Regarding geography, Schmid notes that the Pentateuch is an “exilic text” inasmuch as the narrative occurs outside of the land of Israel, with the exception of Gen 12–36. To complement this position, Schmid observes that although biblical monotheism did not originate in the exilic period, its articulation in the Pentateuch seems to belong to this period rather than to an earlier one. Next, Schmid presents observations for, first, why the main narrative of P is not likely to predate the early Persian Period and, second, why texts dependent on these portions of P may therefore be confidently assigned to the Persian Period as well. He further notes the plausibility of a date for P in the neo-Babylonian or the Persian period, based on additional factors: linguistic grounds, the literary relationship between P and Ezekiel, and the political geography of P. In the last evidence considered, Schmid examines portions of the Pentateuch with strong affinities to Persian period texts: Gen 24 as it reflects intermarriage concerns in Ezra and Nehemiah, or Numbers as it includes the type of Levitical issues that are emphasized in Chronicles. To complement Schmid’s study, Raik Heckl investigates the Aaronide blessing in Num 6:24–26, with attention as well to the introduction in 6:22–23 and to the theological interpretation that follows in 6:27. Heckl demonstrates that the several verses related to blessing constitute a singular and integral unit in a neatly delineated form. Moreover, the comprehensive concept of blessing reflected in Num 6 arises within Israelite theology as a result of the exile; the blessing revolves around the forgiving grace of the God of Israel. In fact, Num 6:24–26 articulates unconditional forgiveness and reconciliation mediated from the central shrine in words attributed to God. As such, the blessing implies that one could receive salvation only there at the temple of Yhwh and not at the temples of other gods, such as the temple of Yaho in Elephantine or the temple in Beth El, where the heavenly court was once venerated. Only in Jerusalem was there available a blessing that assured reconciliation between Yhwh and the people. The emphasis on a single, central cult, Heckl maintains, is derived from Deuteronomy 12, although in other respects the Aaronide blessing in Numbers clearly departs from Deuteronomic thought by, for example, declaring that the blessing is unconditional and not the effect of Torah observance. In another strategic departure from Deuteronomy, the contemporary Priestly authors of the books from Exodus to Numbers claimed that the blessing mediated via Aaron and his sons is identical to that which Moses received from God. Ultimately, the writers employ Mosaic authority as it is established in Deuteronomy in order to confirm changes they have subsequently

Introduction

7

made to sacral concepts and understandings. Hence, Mosaic authority is at issue throughout several consecutive stages of Pentateuchal formation, but its function differs over time. The final stage comes with the presentation of certain Priestly texts, such as Num 6:24–26, at the end of the Persian period. Richard Bautch’s essay, like that of Heckl, correlates Pentateuchal developments involving the figure of Moses with a liturgical text that dates to the late Persian period. The book of Isaiah contains an extended prayer of lament (Isa 63:7–64:11) that has perenially raised questions of historical context. With regard to dating texts to the Persian period – early, middle, or late – the case of Isa 63:7–64:11 is an enigma. Some studies date the passage very early, pre-Persian in fact. An early Persian period dating of 538–520 b.c.e. is argued by other scholars, and still others favor the middle Persian period, or the 5th century. Finally, there is the view that Isa 63:7–64:11 fits best in the context of the late Persian period, specifically the end of the 4th century when Hellenism began to have an impact in Judea. Toward resolving this impasse, Bautch compares data from Isa 63:7–64:11 with pentateuchal developments that took place late in the Persian period during the 4th century b.c.e. A key data point is the figure of Moses, who is featured in Isaiah’s prayer of lament and as well in Deut 34, with both texts metonymically associating his greatness with his hand. Because this and related evidence links the two texts closely, one may conclude that they belong to the same late milieu. Tracking the preeminence of Moses allows for a significant correlation between the prayer in Isa 63:7–64:11 and the Pentateuch as it came to light late in the 4th century. The second half of Bautch’s essay demonstrates that another distinguishing feature of the lament prayer in Isa 63:7–64:11 is the pervasive influence of Deuteronomic (D) thought and theology. A D perspective prevails in three distinct segments of the prayer (Isa 63:11,17b–18a; 64:4b–5a). Interestingly, the lament prayer in Isaiah reflects, alongside the D influence, a Priestly (P) viewpoint, and the text shares elements of both the D and P traditions. Building upon the work of Ulrich Berges, Bautch argues that the tradents responsible for the final form of the book of Isaiah understood themselves to be priests of Yhwh for the nations, and as such, these priestly figures are informed by Deuteronomy and its precepts. Moreover, the Priestly circles that integrated the D concepts of Moses and Sinai into Isaiah were simultaneously giving the Pentateuch its shape. Berges thus suggests that the redactional and compositional processes behind the Pentateuch and the prophetic books are closely related, and Bautch concludes that this is plausibly the case as well with Isa 63:7–64:11, a text from the late Persian period. Providing further perspective on the late Persian period, Jill Middlemas’s essay on Esther notes how trends in scholarship have located the narrative historically in either the Persian or Hellenistic periods. She begins with a critical review of the criteria that scholars have used when attempting to date Esther: historical details, linguistic evidence, theological information, and quotations

8

Introduction

of and references to other biblical sources. In all such cases, the arguments raised in support of a Hellenistic provenance are not compelling, but neither is a conclusion that Esther should rather be dated to the Persian period. That is to say, Esther presents a dilemma in that both Hellenistic and Persian datings are plausible, but neither is certain enough to rule out the other. To resolve this issue, Middlemas demonstrates that Esther is not a reliable source of historical information, even though the text exhibits historical similitude. Rather, the exilic figure of Mordecai, along with his adopted daughter Esther, serve as a founding myth that provides a sense of identity for the Jewish ethnic minority in the eastern diaspora. The story of these two characters provides authorization for this community. The narrative, in fact, affords this diaspora community a degree of historical continuity and discontinuity with biblical Israel as the plot is aligned with the salvation history of ancient Israel. Middlemas thus speaks of “diaspora Esther” to refer to the bulk of the Hebrew (MT) text. On the matter of dating, consequently, Middlemas assigns the core of the narrative, 1:1–9:19, to the Persian period, as Esther shares features in common with diaspora literature of the Persian period, namely Ezra 1–6, and it could very well date from the 5th and 4th centuries. Middlemas separates as Hellenistic additions the focus on Purim in the penultimate chapter of the book (9:20–32) as well as the postscript highlighting the role of Mordecai as a loyal and high-ranking official (10:1–3). Methodologically, she concludes that Esther and similar books should be studied first with attention to genre and redaction before one moves on to questions of provenance and dating. In sum, this collection of essays forms an arc beginning in the early Persian period and extending to the late 4th century when Hellenism began to transform the Levant. The arc of the essays suggests three stages within the Persian period. The early Persian period begins with Cyrus’s defeat of the Babylonians in 539 b.c.e. and continues until the death of Darius I in 486. At this point the middle Persian period begins and extends to the turn of the century; the terminus may conveniently be designated as 398, if one follows the view that Ezra lived during the reign of Artaxerxes II and arrived in Jerusalem in 398. The late Persian period coincides with the 4th century up until the time of Alexander, who died in 323 b.c.e. Collectively, the studies in this volume reify these three stages and illuminate history’s arc, with respect to the biblical texts and their composition. Examples abound, such as Zech 3–4, which Lena-Sofia Tiemeyer (in an essay not mentioned above) dates to the early Persian period, specifically the 6th century b.c.e. when the historical figures of Joshua and Zerubbabel were leaders in Jerusalem as the temple was about to be rebuilt. Her study renders doubtful those analyses of Zech 3–4 that date the material about Zerubbabel to the middle Persian period and place the priest Joshua even later, at the end of the Persian period. Tiemeyer, along with the other contributors, brings clarity to the dating of texts

Introduction

9

in the Persian period. Collectively, they discern a range of criteria for assigning texts to this time with specificity. Regarding the Persian period and our dating the books of the Bible, this volume reflects a work in progress to be extended by scholars in the years to come. Acknowledgments are in order, beginning with the contributors. The eleven authors engaged the history of the Persian period from fresh angles and produced penetrating studies of the Torah, Nevi’im, and Ketubim. Special gratitude goes to the colleagues who helped to launch this project, which began in sessions of the Persian Period program unit at the international meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature (2012–2014). The steering committee included Richard Bautch, Christine Mitchell, James Nogalski, Konrad Schmid, and Dalit Rom-Shiloni. In addition, James Nogalski contributed to the writing of this introduction. Thank you as well to those at Mohr Siebeck who have had a part in publishing the volume, including the series editors Konrad Schmid, Mark S. Smith, Hermann Spiekermann, and Andrew Teeter, as well as Henning Ziebritzki, the editorial director for Theology and Jewish Studies.

Criteria and Periodization in Dating Biblical Texts to Parts of the Persian Period David M. Carr If we are going to discuss the issue of how to date texts to different parts of the Persian period, we must first talk at least some about criteria and method for dating biblical texts to the Persian period at all. This essay moves from a brief synthesis of work I have already published on dating texts to the Persian period before concluding remarks about broader trends across the Persian period and how we might achieve a more precise dating of some biblical texts within the Persian period.1 I start with a few historical orientation points that can set the stage for discussion of Persian-period biblical texts. Politically speaking, we can start with the Persian conquering of the Neo-Babylonian empire around 538 b.c.e. Especially at this point there is a bifurcation of the Judean populace, with the gradual return of some waves of exiled Judeans to Yehud along with the continued existence of a Judean diaspora in both Babylon and Egypt. With regard to Judeans remaining in Babylonia, we have increasing extra-biblical evidence for the assimilation of Judean exiles into the culture of Mesopotamia and the accession of some Judeans to various levels of Persian administration. The Elephantine papyri document a syncretistic and Aramaized population of Jews in the 5th century. Turning to Yehud, we have good reason to think that a reduced version of the temple was rebuilt in the early 5th century around 515, partly with the support of prophetic figures like Haggai and Zechariah and associated with some short-lived royal hopes focused on the Davidide Zerubbabel that can be detected in a substrate of Zechariah. Then the mid-5th century archaeologically seems to mark a time of significant rebuilding of Jerusalem, and this correlates relatively well with the dating of Nehemiah’s wall-rebuilding and other work to the latter half of the 5th century. Notably, however, we should not over-estimate the scale of such rebuilding. According to Eric Meyer’s recent summary of archaeological data, Persian1 The material here was originally presented at the International SBL in Amsterdam, in July of 2012. Though it has been revised for written publication, it still bears the marks of its original oral Sitz im Leben. I thank the organizers of this series of panels (James Nogalski, F. Rachel Magdalene, and Richard Bautch) for their invitation and the participants in this panel for their input. The already published discussion of Persian period material is in my D. M. Carr, The Formation of the Hebrew Bible: A New Reconstruction (New York / ​Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), particularly 204–251.

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David M. Carr

period Jerusalem was “basically a temple with a smallish settlement alongside it for those who served in it and other residents who had resettled alongside them.”2 At its height in the Persian period Jerusalem (excluding the temple mount) amounted to the equivalent of an area about 250 meters by 250 meters, in which about 1500 people probably settled,3 only a small proportion of whom can be presupposed to be literate at all, let alone literate enough to compose or significantly revise major literary works. Finally, it is unclear exactly where the figure of Ezra should be placed in this scheme, insofar as he did play some sort of role vis-a-vis the elevation of Torah, perhaps with some sort of support from the Persian administration. Nevertheless, especially in light of the work of Dieter Böhler, who has demonstrated the removal of unambiguous references in the Ezra tradition to the wall and other rebuilding prior to Ezra’s time,4 I think it is increasingly likely that our current Ezra-Nehemiah order is the result of literary re-arrangement, and the figure of Ezra arrived after Nehemiah. This means that Ezra’s reforms and elevation of a Torah document should be placed at the end of the 4th century, just a few decades before Alexander the Great’s conquering of the area in 333. That date then marks the conclusion of the Persian period per se. That said, the archaeology of the late Persian and early Hellenistic periods is pretty continuous, and there are signs that the Ptolemies took over many of the structures of domination established by the Persians. Therefore, there probably is not a major distinction to be made between the features of early 4th century Persian-period Judean texts and later 4th and 3rd century Hellenistic-period Judean texts. One other major feature to be kept in mind in this discussion is, of course, epigraphic evidence. Unfortunately, our epigraphic evidence from Judah itself is largely confined to documentary genres, with our most extensive texts probably being the Wadi Daliyeh legal papyri toward the end of the Persian period, showing adaptation in Aramaic of Neo-Babylonian legal forms. Elsewhere the documentary evidence decisively suggests that Aramaic was the language of ev2 E. M. Meyers, “The Babylonian Exile Revisited: Demographics and the Emergence of the Canon of Scripture,” in Judaism and Crisis: Crisis as a Catalyst in Jewish Cultural History (ed. A. Lange et al.; Schriften des Institutum Judaicum Delitzschianum 9; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2011), 68. 3 O. Lipschits, “Achaemenid Imperial Policy, Settlement Processes in Palestine, and the Status of Jerusalem in the Middle of the Fifth Century B. C.E,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period (ed. O. Lipschits and M. Oeming; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 32. 4 Full publication in D. Böhler, Die heilige Stadt in Esdras a und Esra-Nehemia: zwei Konzeptionen der Wiederherstellung Israels (OBO 158; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1997), 119–142, 266–295, with English summary to be found as idem., On the Relationship Between Textual and Literary Criticism: The Two Recensions of the Book of Ezra: Ezra-Neh (MT) and 1 Esdras (LXX), in The Earliest Text of the Hebrew Bible (ed. A. Schenker; SBLSCS 52; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003), 35–50. For more discussion (including my disagreement with Böhler on the primacy of the 1 Esdras version of the correspondence), see my Formation of the Hebrew Bible, 78–81.

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eryday governmental, commerce and legal exchanges in Persian-period Yehud.5 Whatever writing in Hebrew took place likely was confined to archaizing scribal centers of the temple and focused on literary-theological texts. This forms the background for a brief overview of biblical texts that can be dated to the Persian period on the basis of relatively more secure criteria. To start, we have reason to date at least part of the books attributed to Haggai and Zechariah to the Persian period, not only on the basis of their own superscriptions, but also on the way these prophets and their messages supporting restoration are associated with temple rebuilding in Ezra 5. Furthermore, their association with Davidide Zerubbabel in the same context conforms with the elevated hopes attached to him in their prophecies (e. g. Hag 2:20–23; Zech 3:8; 4:14). Psalm 107, especially its introductory praise for Yahweh’s enablement of return of exiles (107:2–3), seems to have been reshaped, and indeed probably composed, sometime during the Persian period, and the multiple appropriations of parts of this psalm in the poetic portion of Job help clinch a Persian-period dating for that book. Some form of the Nehemiah memoir embedded in Neh 1:1–7:4; 12:27–40; 13:4–31 also probably dates to the latter 5th century, though some (esp. Jacob Wright, following on Kratz) would severely restrict the scope of what they take to be its original form. Again, more dispute revolves around materials associated with Ezra, depending on whether one takes the redaction-critical approach developed in detail by Jacob Wright (among others) or a more source-critical approach partly dependent on evidence from 1 Esdras, Josephus and Ben Sira.6 I myself find the latter approach more compelling and believe there once was some kind of RebuildingEzra narrative that stood separate from the Nehemiah memoir, even if related to it in complex ways. If so, however, this narrative manifests such chronological confusion about the order of Persian rulers (in both its major versions) that it probably should not be dated until the very end of the Persian period or early Hellenistic period. In this respect the dating of the Rebuilding-Ezra narrative would stand close to the dating of Chronicles in the Persian or early part of the Hellenistic period, with its use of Persian loan words, mention of Darics in 1 Chr 29:7 and genealogy of late Davidides in 1 Chr 3:17–24. That completes my list of biblical texts showing links to the Persian period that could provide an initial basis for dating other biblical texts to the same time. One other text block that gains honorable mention here would be so-called Third 5 I. Ephaal, “Changes in Palestine During the Persian Period in Light of Epigraphic Sources,” IEJ 48 (1998), 106–119; I. Kottsieper, “‘And They Did Not Care to Speak Yehudit’: On Linguistic Change in Judah During the Late Persian Era,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Fourth Century B. C. E. (ed. O. Lipschits et al.; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2007), 95–124. 6 J. Wright, Rebuilding Identity: The Nehemiah Memoir and Its Earliest Readers (BZAW 348; Berlin / ​New York: de Gruyter, 2004) For my source approach, see Carr, Formation of the Hebrew Bible, 78–81 (with citation of earlier literature).

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Isaiah material in Isa 56–59 and 65–66, which seem to reflect various tensions around rebuilding that followed on the more extravagant exilic promises of restoration in 40–55. In contrast, I am not so convinced that, as Konrad Schmid argues, the “golah” texts of Ezekiel and Jeremiah “can be dated with absolute certainty to the Persian period.”7 Rather both these sets of golah prophecies are associated with figures, Jeremiah and Ezekiel, whose work spanned the transition into the exilic period. These golah prophecies probably reflect conflicts developing in the early exile between the ongoing claims to Judean land and power of the newly exiled and the competing claims of those who remained in Judah. I turn now to a brief survey of characteristics seen in this initial database of clearly Persian-period texts. A number of these texts spend significant textual space interpreting past suffering, particularly the exile, as punishment for particular sins (Zech 1:1–6; 8:8–14; Neh 1:6–7; 13:17–18; Ezra 9:6–15; and Hag 1:9–10; 2:10–14; but cf. the poetry of Job). Even more common is a focus on rebuilding, whether temple building (Haggai, Zech 1:16; Ezra 3–6), wall rebuilding (Neh 1–6), or general rebuilding of Jerusalem (Zechariah and late Isaiah texts). This rebuilding is linked in both the Nehemiah and Rebuilding-Ezra materials with Persian sponsorship, a trend that correlates on the one hand with identifications of Cyrus as God’s anointed in exilic Isaiah materials (Isa 44; 45) and on the other hand with the striking lack of animosity toward Persians across the biblical corpus as a whole. Various prophetic texts anticipate the further restoration of Jerusalem, especially if Third Isaiah texts are included in the database. There is a particular emphasis across several texts on the Sabbath (Neh 13:15–22; Isa 56:4, 6; 58:13–14; also 66:23) and fasting (Zech 7:1–7; 8:19; Isa 58:1–3; Ezra 8:21). Moreover, there is a striking emphasis on the temple (Haggai, Zechariah; Rebuilding-Ezra Narrative; also prominent orientation point in Isa 56:5–7) and its priesthood, whether the high priest in early Persian-period prophecy (Hag 1:1–2:19; Zech 3:1–4:14; 6:9–14) or the Aaronide priests along with Levites in later Persian-period texts (Chronicles, Rebuilding-Ezra narrative). Indeed, there is evidence of more widespread Priestly influence in late Persian-period textuality. This appears not only in texts such as Chronicles or the Ezra traditions, but also in ways that these link with late Isaiah traditions, both in Sabbath emphasis and subtle signs of potential Levitical authorship. In my judgment this rise in Priestly elements in the late Persian period reflects the increasingly exclusive domination of literary textuality in the Persian period by groups related to the Jerusalem temple and its priesthood, a domination that extended, of course, into the Hellenistic period. This would conform, by the way, with the above mentioned picture of Persian-period Jerusalem as basically a village alongside the temple mount. 7 K. Schmid, The Old Testament: A Literary History (trans. L. Maloney; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2012), 170.

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If we were to limit our dating of Persian-period texts to those that fit the above profile, it would produce a modest list of potential Persian-period biblical texts. In my book The Formation of the Hebrew Bible, I suggest it would include the above listed texts, along with the P-like conflation of P with non-P traditions and likely some further post-Priestly additions to the Hexateuch. In other words, the priestification of the Pentateuch and historical books, perhaps also including part or all of the H stratum, should be placed in the context of the increasingly temple-centered scribal context of late 5th and early 4th century Jerusalem.8 Though we see some evidence for remnants of non-Priestly forms of scribalism in the early Persian-period prophecies of Haggai and Zechariah and the poetry of Job, they seem fairly limited. I certainly see little evidence for broad non-Priestly/ post-Priestly expansion of the Hexateuch and other historical books during the Persian period.9 Instead, as we move later in the period, the clearest datable late Persian-period texts, such as Third Isaiah, Chronicles or the Rebuilding-Ezra traditions, seem to be part of a Levitical-Priestly stream of scribalism broadly conceived. And this Priestly lock on central Judean transmission and literary Hebrew composition seems to continue into the pre-Hasmonean Hellenistic period. This leads to discussion of distinctions between different parts of the Persian period. What sorts of trends might we observe across the span of these relatively datable Persian-period texts? If this database of relatively clear Persian-period texts is a guide, I suggest that there are three major potential trends: 1) First, a move from lack of clear emphasis on Pentateuchal traditions in early Persian-period prophecy (and Job’s poetry; along with Elephantine papyri) to citation and dependence on a mix of Priestly and non-Priestly traditions in the late Persian/early Hellenistic period, especially the Rebuilding-Ezra narrative, but also Chronicles with its integration of P-like traditions into the D historical overview. In between there is the Nehemiah memoir with its allusions to Deuteronomic and earlier Pentateuchal law. Thus this would be a three-part trend from relative lack of clear allusion to the Pentateuch, to allusion to non-P Pentateuchal law in the mid-5th century Nehemiah memoir, to the inclusion and indeed privileging of Priestly traditions toward the end of the Persian period, probably associated with Ezra and possibly accompanied by some form of Persian support. This rise of a Priestly-shaped, Persian-sponsored, cultically-focused Torah, is then further documented by a wider range of Hellenistic-period texts. Moreover,

8 This was a focus in two articles by me, “Data to Inform Ongoing Debate About the Pentateuch: From Documented Cases of Transmission History to Survey of Rabbinic Exegesis,” in The Formation of the Pentateuch: Bridging the Academic Cultures of Europe, Israel, and North America (ed. J. C. Gertz et al.; FAT 111; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 87–106; and “Strong and Weak Criteria for Establishing the Post-Priestly Character of Hexateuchal Material,” in The Post-Priestly Pentateuch (ed. F. Giuntoli and K. Schmid; FAT 101; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015), 19–34. 9 A fuller case is provided in Carr, “Strong and Weak Criteria,” 19–34.

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this latter part of the Persian period is the most likely context, in my view, for the decisive identification of this Torah as ending with Moses, not Joshua. 2) Second, a move from more extravagant prophetic restoration hopes in early Persian-period prophecy, including hope for Davidide rule evident in early strata of Zechariah and Haggai, to a decided emphasis on Persian sponsorship and hegemony in late Persian-period texts such as Nehemiah and the Rebuilding-Ezra narrative. The Davidide hope, of course, does not disappear altogether. Nevertheless, the emphasis in Chronicles and the Rebuilding-Ezra narrative seems to have shifted more toward the temple cult, Sabbath, and holiness, with David claimed as the founder of the temple institutions, rather than independent hopes being invested in specific contemporary Davidides, such as Zerubbabel. One particular example of this shift may be found toward the middle of Zechariah where the prophecy of the coronation of “the branch” in Zech 6:9–14 was adapted to anticipate coronation of the high priest, Joshua (6:11b), whereas the original branch probably was the Davidide, Zerubbabel, as is seen in the prophecy to Joshua about him in Zech 3:8. If the process worked in this way, it would be an example of an early Persian period non-Priestly prophetic text being adapted away from royal hope toward the Priestly emphases of the later Persian (and early Hellenistic) periods. 3) Third, a gradual and inconsistent breakdown of the archaic Hebrew literary dialect, including the increasing contamination of late Persian texts with elements of Aramaic and even Persian. Given the temptation toward seeing linguistic data in excessively unilinear terms, we should be cautious in how this breakdown is conceptualized. Nevertheless, there is a meaningful distinction to be made between the relatively archaic and non-contaminated Persian-period Hebrew of Haggai and Zechariah on the one hand and the more often Aramaized, updated and colloquial Hebrew of Chronicles and Ezra-Nehemiah materials on the other. This pattern is not unilinear and not equally manifest in various other texts that I have discussed. Third Isaiah and Ps 107 do not manifest as many non-archaic elements as far as I know, while the poetry of Job does feature diverse Aramaic and other elements. Again, this trend toward Aramaization appears to continue into the Hellenistic period, particularly in the increasing composition of entire literary works, especially those in new genres, in Aramaic (e. g., early Enoch traditions, diaspora narratives).10 Yet we also should be quite cautious in attributing Persian or indeed late Persian dates to any text that manifests some elements that might be Aramaic, and this for at least two reasons: 1) in contrast, say, to the example of Greek or Persian, Judeans and Israelites co-existed with Arameans for centuries with closely related languages and overlapping linguistic domains, allowing for the presence of many features we now identify as “Aramaic” in earlier forms of 10 I am indebted for this observation about genre to an oral conversation with Oded Lipschits.

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Hebrew; 2) Hebrew biblical texts were transmitted in an Aramaic-primary context across the Persian and Hellenistic periods, sometimes in a context of memorization and performance that would allow for fluid and untraceable Aramaic updating. Indeed, this updating is well documented in the manuscript tradition for relatively marginal books like the Song of Songs and possibly present in others. Generally, use of non-standard Hebrew and Aramaic and other linguistic isoglosses to identify late Persian and/or early Hellenistic texts is a very imperfect tool. I think relatively pure classical Hebrew is probably a better potential gauge of a date prior to the late Persian period than mixed forms of Hebrew are a reliable indicator of a date after that point.11 And even here, with Pesher Habakkuk apparently being written in quite good archaic Hebrew in the 1st century b.c.e., we should not rule out that some standard literary Hebrew could be quite late.12 This would suggest that Persian-period texts dating toward the outset of the period would be less likely to feature an emphasis on Pentateuchal traditions, particularly Priestly Pentateuchal traditions, less prone toward emphasis on Persian sponsorship (and perhaps more likely to feature extravagant hope), and more likely to be written in archaic Hebrew. By the end of the Persian period and beginning of the Hellenistic period, our more datable Persian-period texts manifest a more explicit emphasis on Persian sponsorship, links to the combined Pentateuch with a trend toward emphasis on Priestly traditions, and occasional breakdown of features of the archaic Hebrew literary dialect, including more mixing of Aramaic and other (esp. Persian) isoglosses. All this is to focus on more reliably Persian-period texts, rather than the more extensive corpus of potentially Persian-period texts identified as Persian period by some colleagues on the basis of other criteria. For example, some colleagues in the current discussion have identified large swathes of the Pentateuch and Historical books as post-Priestly, non-Priestly expansions.13 Summary of their arguments goes beyond the scope of this paper, but they include a mix of arguments based on potential Priestly features in key non-Priestly texts, the dependence of other non-Priestly texts on those potential post-Priestly texts, possible thematic links in these texts that can be correlated with Persian ideology or other Persianperiod elements, and the potential readability of reconstructed strata of the Pentateuch and historical books when certain texts are excised. These arguments, combined with earlier scholarly conclusions about the Persian-period origins of texts such as Prov 1–9, have produced what I believe to be an unlikely picture 11 Carr,

“Data to Inform Ongoing Debate,” 87–106. “Late Biblical Hebrew and the Qumran Pesher Habakkuk,” JHS 25 (2008),

12 I. M. Young,

1–38. 13 For a few quite different overviews, compare K. Schmid, Literaturgeschichte des Alten Testaments: Eine Einführung (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2008; ET 2012); R. G. Kratz, Die Komposition der erzählenden Bücher des Alten Testaments: Grundwissen der Bibelkritik (UTB 2157; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000); and C. Levin, Das Alte Testament (4th ed.; München: Beck, 2010).

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of an expansive and highly multiform scribal system in Persian-period Yehud, with schools of Deuteronomists, pro-Babylonian golah and pro-general diaspora groups, one or more groups expanding on the Isaiah tradition and book of the twelve, various Priestly groups, authors of multiple Priestly and non-Priestly compositional layers of post-Priestly strata of narrative books, and authors of individual texts such as Ruth and Jonah. Furthermore, in cases such as the Pentateuch, it is envisioned that these different groups were able to exercise shifting control over the biblical text, with the normative text of, say, Numbers, created, modified, and accepted by successive theocratic, Pentateuchal, Hexateuchal and other redactors with significantly different perspectives. Nothing, of course, can be ruled out. Some believe that there is substantial textual evidence for a richly multiform and rapidly changing scribal milieu in tiny Persian-period Yehud. In contrast, I am struck by the above-mentioned fact that Jerusalem seems to have been relatively depopulated through the first half of the Persian period, and even late in the Persian period only achieved the status of a temple village. Moreover, with the Persian governmental apparatus almost certainly operating in Aramaic, literary Hebrew scribalism was likely concentrated in the Jerusalem temple, a hypothesis that conforms with the largely Priestly profile (broadly construed) of clearly late Persian texts like Chronicles, Ezra, and late psalms along with the clearly latest layers of the Pentateuch. Rather than positing that both priests and non-priests shared or transferred control over major normative texts across this period, I find it much more likely to posit that most Hebrew textuality in tiny Persian-period Yehud was basically Priestly. Insofar as there were any Persian-period scribes producing literary works outside the Priestly tradition, it is striking that they did not see fit to extend the story any further than the tacked on, mid-exilic conclusion to Kings in 2 Kgs 25:27–30. Instead, we see fairly good evidence that it was Persian-period priestly scribes who had the keys to these narrative texts, producing a Priestly Hexateuch on the one hand and a Priestly reconceptualization of Samuel–Kings on the other (in the form of Chronicles), both times modifying prior non-Priestly works (and strikingly, not intervening in what we now know as Judges in any significant way). In the end, if there is a consistent differentiating feature across the Persian period, it appears to be the move from remnants of scribal diversity and old literary standards at the outset of the period to some breakdown of those scribal standards along with the emergence of priestly domination of scribalism toward the end of the Persian period. Put another way, there was a move across the Persian period from continued relatively archaic Hebrew and the persistence of remnants of a more diverse scribal system (e. g. Haggai, Zechariah, and Job) to increased centering of literary Hebrew textuality among a diversity of priestly groups associated with the Jerusalem temple.

The Earliest Persian Period Prophetic Texts Joseph Blenkinsopp

I. Problems One of the many problems besetting attempts to assign dates to Hebrew Bible texts, most of which are not particularly co-operative in that respect, is the crowding of a large number of them, of widely different character, into a period of ill-defined length following the liquidation of the Judean state in the early decades of the 6th century b.c.e. Depending on the hypotheses to which one subscribes, these texts could include an exilic Yahwist source,1 a Priestly narrative (P) with the Holiness Code,2 a second edition of Deuteronomy and the history associated with it,3 prose passages in the book of Jeremiah either composed in Judah or a precipitate of preaching to the Judaic diaspora in Babylon,4 and expansive editions of several prophetic collections;5 all these in addition to major compositions de novo: Ezekiel, Deutero-Isaiah and Lamentations.6 This vast assemblage of material is assumed to have been composed, whether in Judah or the diaspora, in the aftermath of a devastating campaign of murder, 1 For example, J. Van Seters, The Pentateuch. A Social-Science Commentary (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), 112–159; idem, “In the Babylonian Exile with J. Between Judgment in Ezekiel and Salvation in Second Isaiah,” in The Crisis of Israelite Religion: Transformations of Israelite Tradition in Exilic and Post-exilic Times (ed. B. Becking and M. C. A. Korpel; OTS 42; Leiden: Brill, 1999), 71–89. 2 M. Noth, A History of Pentateuchal Traditions (trans. B. W. Anderson; Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1972), 8–19, 228–247; for a more recent opinion, see R. Albertz, From the Exile to the Maccabees, Vol. 2 of A History of Israelite Religion in the Old Testament Period (OTL; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1994), 480–493. 3 For a broad range of recent opinions, see G. N. Knoppers and J. G. McConville (eds.), Reconsidering Israel and Judah. Recent Studies on the Deuteronomistic History (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2000). 4 For the latter alternative, see E. W. Nicholson, Preaching to the Exiles: A Study of the Prose Tradition in the Book of Jeremiah (New York: Schocken Books, 1971). 5 David Noel Freedman argued for a prophetic collection as a supplement to the Deuteronomistic History, from about the middle of the 6th century b.c.e., supplemented about a century later by a second collection. See D. N. Freedman, “The Law and the Prophets,” VTSup 9 (1963), 250–265. 6 The quantity and scope of the writings located in this period can be gauged from P. R. Ackroyd, Exile and Restoration (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1968) and the collection of essays in G. N. Knoppers, L. L. Grabbe, and D. Fulton (eds.), Exile and Restoration Revisited: Essays on the Babylonian and Persian Periods in Memory of Peter R. Ackroyd (LSTS 73; London / ​New York: T & T Clark, 2009).

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mayhem, physical destruction, deportations, and the loss of those institutions most likely to provide accommodation and sponsorship for literary activity. The problem is further aggravated by the practice of assigning these texts to either the exilic or postexilic period, ill-defined epochs which, from the point of view of chronology and dating, serve to obfuscate rather than clarify. Exile is indeed a reality, but it seems preferable to adopt categories which refer to well-known, specific, external events of immediate relevance to Jewish communities in Judah and elsewhere, including deportations which can be dated (597, 586, and 582 b.c.e.)7 and well-documented imperial epochs, namely, “Neo-Babylonian” and “early Persian.” The first of these would consist in the long half-century of the last phase of Babylonian rule, from the first fall of Jerusalem to the fall of Babylon (597–539 b.c.e.); the second would take in the slightly shorter half-century of the formation and consolidation of the Persian empire from the fall of Babylon to the death of Darius I (539–486 b.c.e.). Unlike “exilic” and “postexilic,” these parameters are clear, well defined, yet broad enough to accommodate the very approximate dating which is the best we can manage with most of the relevant biblical texts. This at least clarifies categories, but a further problem awaiting us is the relative scarcity of documentation for the Persian period in general. We have a considerable number of administrative and fiscal documents and lists (Persepolis Elamite tablets, Gadatas inscription, trilingual Xanthus stele, and others), but no annals and no extended historical records comparable to those of the Assyrians and Babylonians. The longest extant text from the Persian (Achaemenid) period is the trilingual Behistun inscription which covers no more than the first two years of the reign of Darius I.8 We are therefore dependent to a considerable extent on the Greek historians, primarily Herodotus down to 479 b.c.e., Xenophon, and Ctesias, physician to Artaxerxes II, fragments of whose Persica have been preserved by Diodorus of Sicily (Library of History IX 21–37; X 13–15, 19) and in the much later Bibliotheca of the Byzantine polymath Photius. Josephus’ account of the Persian period, in Antiquities XI, is mostly a rehash of biblical sources helped out with 1 Esdras and some information from an unknown source of uncertain reliability on the Jerusalemite high priesthood. After a long paraphrase of the book of Esther, taking up about a third of his entire account of the Persian period, he seems to have run out of source material. He makes it worse by a tendency to conflate the four rulers named Artaxerxes and the three named Darius. Scarcity of 7 On 582 as the more probable date than 586 for the assassination of Gedaliah and the subsequent flight into Egypt (2 Kgs 25:26), especially in view of its coincidence with Jeremiah’s third deportation in the twenty-third year of Nebuchadnezzar (Jer 52:30), see J. Blenkinsopp, David Remembered. Kingship and National Identity in Ancient Israel (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2013), 51–52. 8 For the text, see R. G. Kent, Old Persian: Grammar, Texts, Lexicon (New Haven, CT: American Oriental Society, 1950), 116–135.

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information, together with a chronological schema based on the book of Daniel, also explains how the Tannaitic author of the treatise Seder Olam Rabbah could have reduced the two centuries of Persian rule to thirty-four years.9

II. Criteria for Dates in the Early Persian Period If, in spite of the paucity of external data we raise the issue of criteria following which we can assign this or that biblical text to the early Persian period as I have defined it or, for that matter, the Persian period tout court, we soon become aware that the best we can hope for is a reasonable degree of probability. When chronological or calendric notices from the Persian period are attached to events or situations in biblical texts the situation may look promising, but much depends on the origin, character, and intentionality of the text in question. Moreover, such indications may give us a terminus post quem but not necessarily a terminus ante quem, a problem which confronts the historian also with inscriptions. An example: an edict of Darius I to a provincial governor in Asia Minor named Gadatas, inscribed on stone in the Roman period, may be a faithful copy of an Aramaic or Old Persian original, and has so been understood and utilized as source material for imperial policies in the provinces during the reign of Darius I.10 In more recent times, however, serious doubts have been raised about its authenticity.11 A biblical example, of a different kind, would be the statement in Ezra 6:15 that the rebuilding of the temple was completed in the sixth year of Darius, hence 516 or 515 depending on how the first regnal year is calculated. This looks plausible, but we know that some recent scholars are convinced that the temple must have been rebuilt considerably later, and that perhaps the Darius in question is the second not the first bearing that name (that is, Darius II Ochos, 423–

  9 On documentation for the Persian period, see M. A. Dandamaev, Persien unter den ersten Achämeniden (6. Jahrhundert v. Chr) (trans. H. D. Pohl; Beiträge zur Iranistik 8; Wiesbaden: Reichert, 1976); R. N. Frye, The History of Ancient Iran (Munich: Beck, 1984), 87–88; A. Kuhrt, The Ancient Near East c. 3000 to 330 BC II (London / ​New York: Routledge, 1995), 647–652; P. Briant, Histoire de l’Empire Perse: de Cyrus à Alexandre (2 vols.; Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 1996), 14–18 = From Cyrus to Alexander. A History of the Persian Empire (trans. Peter T. Daniels; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2002), 5–9; L. L. Grabbe, Yehud: A History of the Persian Province of Judah, Vol. 1 of A History of the Jews and Judaism in the Second Temple Period (London / ​New York: T & T Clark, 2004), 22–130. 10 For example, see J. M. Cook, The Persian Empire (London: Dent, 1983), 71–72. 11 Briant (From Cyrus, 491) states that its authenticity is no longer in doubt, but according to a later assessment he concluded that it is a clever forgery from the Greco-Roman period. See his contribution to M. Giorgieri et al., Licia e Lidia prima dell’ellenizzazione: atti del Convegno internazionale, Roma, 11–12 ottobre 1999 (Roma: Consiglio Nazionale delle Ricerche, 2003), 107–144. Other references in L. L. Grabbe, Judaism from Cyrus to Herod. Volume One: The Persian and Greek Periods (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1992), 59.

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405/404).12 On the other hand, for the early years of the same monarch (Darius I) we have in Haggai and Zech 1–8 a unique instance of a dating sequence precise to the month and even the day, covering the period from the autumn of 520 to the early winter of 518.13 These texts document the rise and collapse of a messianic movement focused on the person of Zerubbabel either during or shortly after the numerous campaigns of Darius I, almost certainly a usurper, aimed at suppressing revolts and establishing himself as undisputed ruler of the Achaemenid empire. That the dates can be synchronized with the chronology for the early years of the reign, primarily by recourse to the Behistun trilingual inscription, provides a prima facie case for authenticity.14 Much about the messianic fervor, aroused perhaps involuntarily by Zerubbabel, nevertheless remains obscure.15 A Persian-period date for the composition of biblical texts is also argued on the basis of reference to individuals bearing Persian or Median names; for example, the two individuals with the Persian theophoric named Mithredath in Ezra 1:8, 4:7 and Queen Vashti and the seven court eunuchs in Esth 1:9–10. Characteristic features of Persian court life attested in the Greek historians, especially Herodotus and Ctesias, have also been taken as corroboration of a Persian-period date. Examples often cited are banquets lasting several days and intrigues in the royal harem frequently involving eunuchs. Taken on their own, without supporting evidence, these features could simply represent later interest among Greek and Roman literati in Persian “orientalism.” I add two clues to a Persian-period date of a less obvious kind which may serve to illustrate the possibilities and limitations of this criterion. The first concerns “the Satan” (‫)השטן‬ of Job 1–2 and Zech 3:1–2. It has been suggested that the functions of this member of the heavenly court, especially as presented in the book of Job, reproduce those of a Persian official known in Greek sources as “the eyes of the king” (ὀφθαλμοί βασιλέως), perhaps corresponding to Old Persian spasaka. One of the tasks of this functionary was to range over the empire checking on local satraps and other provincial office holders, and occasionally acting as agent provocateur to test their loyalty to the king, a not otiose activity given the frequency of satrapal revolts.16 This usage could serve as confirmation of a Persian-period date for 12 Most recently D. V. Edelman, The Origins of the ‘Second Temple’: Persian Imperial Policy and the Rebuilding of Jerusalem (London: Equinox, 2005); I. Finkelstein, “Archeology and the List of Returnees in the Books of Ezra and Nehemiah,” PEQ 140 (2008), 1–10. 13 The texts in chronological order are: Hag 1:1, 15, 21; Zech 1:1; Hag 2:10, 20; Zech 1:10–15; 7:1. 14 For a convenient summary and tabulation of events, see M. A. Dandamaev, A Political History of the Achaemenid Empire (trans. W. J. Vogelsang; Leiden: Brill, 1989), 351–352. 15 On the Zerubbabel incident, see Blenkinsopp, David Remembered, 71–103. 16 Hist. 1:114; Cyr. 8:2, 6, 16. See C. Authrun, “L’Oeil du Roi: concept politico-administratif commun à l’Iran, à la Chine, et à l’Hellade,” Humanitas 3 (1950–1951), 287–291; A. L. Oppenheim, “The Eyes of the Lord,” JAOS 88 (1968), 173–180; J. M. Balcer, “The Athenian episcopos and the Achaemenid King’s Eye,” AJP 98 (1977), 252–263; idem, Sparda by the Bitter Sea (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1984), 120–121.

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the texts in question, though this conclusion has been reached with respect to both the book of Job and Zech 1–8 on the basis of broader and less recondite linguistic and thematic considerations. The second clue borrows a page from the ritual rules set out in Exodus and Leviticus for the priestly garments to be worn in the service of worship. The prescriptive dress code for the official priesthood includes ‫“ מכנסי־בד‬linen trousers” (Exod 28:42; 39:28; Lev 6:10; 16:4), a garment which is known to be a Persian innovation; in fact, the corresponding Greek term, ἀναξυρίδες, is a Persian loan word. The Greeks, of course, noticed this article of clothing, considered it preposterous, and would not be seen dead in it. Its adoption, one supposes, has much to do with Persian fame as horsemen, well attested in the inscriptions. By coincidence, the report of the sack of Jerusalem by the Persians in 614 C. E. mentions that the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem was spared destruction when the invaders came upon a mosaic on the facade depicting the magi wearing this article of apparel. This apparently trivial point is worthy of mention since it is consistent with the absence of any reference to Aaronite priests prior to the Persian period, not even in the oracles of the priest-prophet Ezekiel – certainly an important aspect of the history of the ancient Israelite priesthood.17 We could hardly leave the subject of Persian-period dating without referring to the Zoroastrian religion embraced by Achaemenid rulers and their courts, at least from the reign of Darius I.18 The aniconic nature of Zoroastrianism, confirmed by the lack of archaeological evidence as well as by the testimony of Herodotus,19 will bring to mind the extensive polemic against the manufacture and cult of idols in Deutero-Isaiah,20 even assuming the generally accepted date for this section of the book shortly before or after the fall of Babylon. There is also a striking resemblance between certain expressions of praise of the God of Israel as a cosmic, creator deity in Deutero-Isaiah and Ahuramazda’s doxology, for example in the praise of Ahuramazda as creator-deity on the tomb inscription of Darius I at Naqsh-i-Rustam: A great god is Ahuramazda, who created this earth, who created yonder sky, who created man, who created happiness for man, who made Darius king, one king of many, one lord of many.21 17 See J. Blenkinsopp, “The Mystery of the Missing ‘Sons of Aaron’,” in Exile and Restoration Revisited (ed. G. N. Knoppers and L. L. Grabbe; London / ​New York: T & T Clark, 2009), 65–77. 18 The opinion that Cyrus II had embraced the Zoroastrian religion was defended by D. Winston, “The Iranian Component in the Bible, Apocrypha and Qumran: A Review of the Evidence,” HR 5 (1966), 324–339; C. Herrenschmidt, “La religion des Achéménides: État de la question,” Studia Iranica 9 (1980), 324–339; M. Boyce, Zoroastrians: Their Religious Beliefs and Practices (2nd ed.; London / ​New York: Routledge, 2001), 48–77. 19 “It is not their custom [i. e. the Persians] to make and set up statues, temples, and altars, and those who make such things they deem foolish” (Hist. 1:131). 20 Isa 40:19–20; 41:6–7; 44:9–20; 45:16; 46:1–2. 21 For the text, see Kent, Old Persian, 137–138.

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Compare the encomium on Yhwh in Isa 42:5: The One who created the sky and laid it out, who spread out the earth and its issue, who gave breath to the peoples on it, the spirit of life to those who tread upon it.

or, again, in Isa 45:18: The One who created the sky, the One who is God, who gave the earth form and substance, who firmly established it, who did not create it an empty void but formed it to be inhabited.

These parallels point to a subject awaiting further research.22 On the whole, however, the religion of Zarathustra has left few traces on the biblical record from the Persian period. As the late Professor Barr pointed out, Zoroastrian influence only became fully apparent in Jewish circles in the Hellenistic period, indeed as late as the 2nd century b.c.e.23

III. A Special Case: The Redactional History of Prophetic Books The claim that prophetic books traditionally dated to the time of the kingdoms underwent a thorough process of expansion and reconfiguration during the Persian period calls for special attention. This is a vast subject, much under discussion in contemporary Hebrew Bible scholarship; I will therefore limit my comments to examples from two books: Jeremiah and Deutero-Isaiah. According to critical opinion, the book of Jeremiah is the end result of a long period of literary development. Since Duhm’s commentary of 1901, or even earlier, there has existed broad but not unanimous agreement that many of the prose passages scattered throughout the book, ending in the last chapter with a historical appendix taken from 2 Kgs 24:18–25:30, are of Deuteronomistic and therefore exilic or postexilic origin.24 Few, however, have attempted to be more precise, and some have suspected that further precision is unattainable. In his International Critical Commentary, William McKane questioned the practice of “stepping out from the inner world of the corpus of the book of Jeremiah into the particulars of external history,” even arriving at the conclusion that “no more can be said about the result than that it might be right, but it might equally be 22 For one line of inquiry, see J. Blenkinsopp, “The Cosmological and Protological Language of Deutero-Isaiah,” CBQ 73 (2011), 493–510. 23 J. Barr, “The Question of Religious Influence: The Case of Zoroastrianism, Judaism, and Christianity,” JAAR 53.2 (1985), 201–235. 24 The latest phase in the debate on the redactional history of the book can be dated from 1973 with W. Thiel, Die deuteronomistische Redaktion von Jeremia 1–25 (WMANT 41; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1973) and H. Weippert, Die Prosareden des Jeremiabuches (BZAW 132; Berlin / ​New York: de Gruyter, 1973). The former assigned an extensive role to a Deuteronomistic editor, while the latter argued on the basis of style and vocabulary for Jeremian authorship of most of the Prosareden.

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wrong.”25 This warning from a canny Scotsman is salutary, but as a matter of fact few of the many essays in Jeremian Redaktionsgeschichte over the last few decades have ventured beyond the safe but imprecise categories of exilic or postexilic for the Jeremian Prosareden. A text which may serve to illustrate the wisdom of McKane’s misgivings and the difficulties in going beyond vague generalities is Jer 12:14–17, a more than usually obscure prose addendum. On one reading, it appears to predict the uprooting of nations adjacent to Judah and their eventual, though conditional, re-establishment. The dates assigned to this passage cover a period from the reign of Zedekiah, the last Judean king (Lundbom), to the Maccabean period (Duhm).26 McKane himself concluded that it was a late, artificial and composite text originating some time in a post-exilic Jewish community.27 Thiel, however, while assigning it to his Deuteronomistic redactor, provided a more precise point of departure in the campaign of the twenty-third year of Nebuchadnezzar’s reign, therefore 582 b.c.e. This was the campaign which led to the Babylonian occupation of Coele-Syria, the conquest of Moab and Ammon, and a third Judean deportation.28 The attempt at precision is commendable, but the text itself is obscure and complex enough to justify McKane’s misgivings. In any case, the passage remains firmly within the Neo-Babylonian epoch. The outcome may be more promising with Jer 23:5–6, also in prose, with a practically identical variant in Jer 33:14–16. Both refer to the raising up, or springing up out of the ground, of “a righteous (or legitimate) Branch” (‫צדיק צמח‬ in 23:5, ‫ צדקה צמח‬in 33:15); in other words, a king in the line of David who will rule justly and protect his people from their enemies. This perspective is in line with the messianic enthusiasm aroused by Zerubbabel, a descendant of David, at the beginning of the reign of Darius I, as reflected in the often obscure sayings of Haggai and Proto-Zechariah. Apart from the two Jeremian passages, the messianic code-name ‫ צמח‬occurs only in Zech 1–8 (Zech 3:8; 6:12). The promise of the just ruler is extended to Judah and Israel in both Jeremian variants, which, again, is consonant with the interest in the eventual reunion of the two “houses” 25 W. McKane, Introduction and Commentary on Jeremiah I–XXV, Vol. 1 of A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Jeremiah (ICC; Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1986), lxxxviii–lxxxix. The entire passage in these two pages is worth reading as a caution against excessive zeal in assigning precise dates to biblical texts. 26 After suggesting the possibility that it refers to the neighboring nations which cooperated with Babylon in the final campaign against Judah, Jack Lundbom tentatively proposed a date early in the reign of Zedekiah. See J. R. Lundbom, Jeremiah 1–20. A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 21A; New York: Doubleday, 1999), 664–665. Bernard Duhm placed it in the 2nd century b.c.e. See B. Duhm, Das Buch Jeremia (KHC 11; Tübingen: Mohr, 1901). 27 McKane, Jeremiah I–XXV, 279–284 28 Thiel, Die deuteronomistische, 162–168. Since the Babylonian Chronicle breaks off in 593, the only source for this campaign is Josephus (Ant. 10:181–182), whose date, however, agrees with that of Jeremiah’s third deportation in 582 (Jer 52:30), which is also the probable date of the assassination of Gedaliah.

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in the Zecharian corpus (especially Zech 10:6–12). A further link is the contrast between the eschatological Davidic ruler and the worthless “shepherds” (i. e. kings) who, rather than tending their flocks, scatter them abroad. This, too is a central theme in later Zechariah texts (10:2–3; 11:17; 13:7) and worthless shepherds are denounced in Jer 23:1–4, the passage immediately preceding the first of the two variants.29 Much remains uncertain, but this kind of multiple attestation provides more substantial support for the hypothesis of a Persian-period date for these two Jeremian Prosareden. A final test case is the discourse or sermon on Sabbath observance in Jer 17:19– 27. The possibility of it being a transcript or paraphrase of the prophet himself is called into question by its prediction of the restoration of the Davidic dynasty contingent on sabbath observance. It is also noteworthy that the discourse contains the only reference to sabbath in the book of Jeremiah. The opinio communis has therefore assigned it to either the exilic or postexilic period.30 Comparison with the account of Nehemiah’s measures to enforce strict observance of sabbath in the Jerusalem of the second half of the 5th century b.c.e. (Neh 13:15–22) may, however, suggest a more specific date. The concerns and the language of Neh 13:15–22 have enough in common with Jer 17:19–27 to suggest a close association of some kind. In both passages the emphasis is on the prohibition of commercial activity, specifically bringing goods through the city gates, and bearing burdens in general on the sabbath. In sum, these examples suggest that progress in identifying more precisely the situation in which a prophetic text arose will more readily come from within the biblical corpus than from what McKane called “the particulars of external history.” Deutero-Isaiah provides one of the most difficult and contested cases of redactional history and therefore date or dates of composition. While many commentators still maintain the essential unity of Isa 40–55, assigning at least its core content a date a few years prior to the fall of Babylon in 539 b.c.e., others, especially among German-language scholars, read it as the outcome of several successive redactions or editorial layers (Schichten). Rainer Albertz may serve as a typical representative of this exegetical tradition.31 He argues that Deutero-Isaiah 29 The famously obscure parable of the worthless shepherd in Zech 11:4–17 is preceded by a no less obscure allusion to the wailing of shepherds whose pastures have been devastated, and whose wailing is accompanied by the roar of lions whose habitat has also been destroyed (Zech 11:2–3). In Jer 25:34–38, shepherds also wail after their pasture has been laid waste by Yhwh, represented as a lion forced out of his covert. 30 Thiel, Die deuteronomistische, 209–304; Nicholson, Preaching to the Exiles. A Study of the Prose Tradition in the Book of Jeremiah (New York: Schocken Books, 1971), 65–66; both of whom date it to the exilic period, Thiel in Judah, and Nicholson in Babylon. McKane (Jeremiah I–XXV, 414–419) argues for the postexilic period. 31 R. Albertz, Israel in Exile. The History and Literature of the Sixth Century B. C. E. (trans. David Green; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003), 376–433. A shorter version of his argument appeared in idem, “Darius in place of Cyrus. The First Edition of Deutero-Isaiah (Isaiah 40:1–52:12),” JSOT 27.3 (2003), 371–383.

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27

comprises two editions: the first concluding with Isa 52:7–10, the announcement of the herald (‫ )מבשר‬bringing the good news of the return of Yhwh to Zion; the second with Isa 55:10–11, the joyful return to Judah of those deported and the ecological transformation of the land which awaited them. Following the lead of earlier scholars,32 he dates his first edition to ca. 520 b.c.e. towards the end of the critical period during which Darius I was occupied in suppressing revolts throughout the empire. In support of this proposal, he maintains that the oracles in Deutero-Isaiah which describe enthusiastically the victorious progress of an anonymous ruler33 refer not to Cyrus, named elsewhere in Deutero-Isaiah (44:28; 45:1), but to Darius and his ruthless suppression of revolts during the first two years of his reign, including two revolts in Babylon (522–520). Cyrus had proved to be a disappointment after entering Babylon peacefully, under the aegis of the Babylonian imperial deity Marduk and the sponsorship of his priesthood, but now Darius, after crushing the Babylonian dynastic revolts,34 would act as agent of the God of Israel in authorizing and facilitating the repatriation of Judeans exiled by the Babylonians. This historical reconstruction, which relegates the first dissemination of Deutero-Isaiah’s oracles to the early Persian period rather than the dying days of the Babylonian empire, raises some serious questions. In the first place, in identifying structural features indicative of stages in the formation of Deutero-Isaiah it would seem more natural to begin, as most commentators do, with 48:20–21, the first of several calls to leave Babylon, as the finale to 40–48. This decision is supported by the significant difference in language, theme, and tone between the oracles before and after this point of division.35 We could then read 52:7–12 and Kyros im Deuterojesaja-Buch: redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zu Entstehung und Theologie von Jes 40–55 (FAT 1; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1991), 173–207; O. H. Steck, “Israel und Zion: Zum Problem konzeptioneller Einheit und literarischer Schichtung in Deuterojesaja,” in Gottesknecht und Zion: Gesammelte Aufsätze zu Deuterojesaja (ed. B. Janowski and H. Spieckermann; FAT 4; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1992), 173–207; J. Van Oorschot, Von Babel zum Zion: eine literarkritische und redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung (BZAW 206; Berlin / ​New York: de Gruyter, 1993). 33 Isa 41:25–29; 42:1–9; 45:13; 46:8–11; 48:14–16. 34 The first led by the Babylonian Nidintu-Bel (Nebuchadrezzar III) from October to December 522, the second by Arakha, perhaps Armenian but of uncertain antecedents (Nebuchadrezzar IV) from August to November 521. 35 In chapters 49–55 we hear no more of Cyrus, who is the focal point of 40–48; the prophet and his God are in dialogue with Zion-Jerusalem rather than with Jacob-Israel; the presentation of the servent (‫ )עבד‬of Yahweh is markedly different; the sense of loss and disappointment is much more in evidence in 49–55, and the prophet no longer looks for help from Cyrus or any other human agency. It is relevant to note that Bernard Duhm found the conclusion to the first of three parts of Isa 40–66, equal in length (nine chapters each) – his “drei kleine Megillot”  – in the final statement in 48:22: “There is no well-being for the reprobate” (‫)אין שלום לרשעים‬. The phrase is repeated at 57:21 and the condition of the reprobate is described in lurid terms in the last verse of the book (66:24). See B. Duhm, Das Buch Jesaja (4th ed.; HAT 3; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1922), 367. 32 R. G. Kratz,

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55:12–13 as excipits to two further expansive stages in the incremental and cumulative process which gave us the book of Isaiah. Albertz has also overlooked the fact that what is predicated of his anonymous victorious ruler at several points in Deutero-Isaiah is identical with what is said of Cyrus in the passages in which Cyrus is actually named (i. e. 44:24–28; 45:1–7).36 There is therefore no necessity, and no good reason, to refer these allusions to Darius.37 The predictions about Cyrus remained unfulfilled not because Cyrus entered Babylon as a friend and liberator, as Albertz maintains, a claim which we recognize as blatant propaganda of the kind disseminated on the famous Cyrus Cylinder. The predictions remained unfulfilled because it became evident that Cyrus was not about to act as agent of the god of a small and insignificant western province in the work of repatriation and reconstruction. There is the further problem with this hypothesis that, at precisely the time when it assumes that prophetic expectations for a better future were focused on Darius and his suppression of dynastic revolts in the empire, the prophetic sponsors of a messianic movement with its focus on Zerubbabel of the line of David were anticipating the imminent break-up of the Persian empire as a condition for the restoration of the Davidic dynasty.38 This scenario, with two contemporaneous but diametrically opposed prophetic movements, while not absolutely impossible, must be deemed extremely unlikely.

IV. Conclusions In summary: For those who hold that a knowledge of the circumstances of the original production and reception of a biblical text provides an essential point of entry for its interpretation, the attempt to identify these circumstances as precisely as possible will always be part of our task as critical readers. Texts are social products which reflect, not always overtly, the needs, stresses, and general world view of the society in which they originate and which the society to some degree may be said to generate. The creation of meaning is a transactional process 36 He is summoned by Yhwh (41:25; 42:6; 46:11, cf. 45:4): his hand is grasped by Yhwh (42:6, cf. 45:1); he crushes opposing rulers (41:25, cf. 45:1); he will carry out Yhwh’s plan (46:11; 48:14, cf. 44:28); Yhwh will facilitate his progress (46:11, cf.5:2); he will rebuild Jerusalem (45:13b, cf. 44:28b), which last retains its significance even if 45:13b is considered a gloss. 37 U. Berges, “Dareios in Jes 40–55? Zu einem Vorschlag von Rainer Albertz” in Berührungspunkte: Studien zur Sozial‑ und Religionsgeschichte Israels und seiner Umwelt; Festschrift für Rainer Albertz zu seinem 65. Geburtstag (ed. I. Kottsieper et al.; Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2008), 253–266, criticizes some aspects of Albertz’s proposal. 38 Hag 2:20–23; Zech 6:6–14. In the first of Zechariah’s night visions, dated two months after Haggai’s appointment of Zerubbabel as Yhwh’s signet ring, patrols on horseback report that “the whole earth remains at peace,” implying that the suppression of revolts throughout the empire by Darius was now complete. This was bad news, greeted with lament and bitter disappointment since it extinguished hope for the restoration of the national dynasty (Zech 1:7–15).

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29

between text and readers, and one which does not take place in a social and political vacuum, outside of space and time. Dates are therefore important, though not always identifiable from the text itself. Dates are also important for the relations of interdependence between texts, for reconstructing the development of ideas and practices, for example in the legal sphere, and, in general, for historical reconstruction. But even a survey as cursory as the one I have presented here has shown the need to approach the task with modest expectations. Nowhere is this more necessary than with the many texts assigned, sometimes more as a faute de mieux than as the result of close critical work, to the two centuries of Achaemenid rule, and nowhere more than here is it necessary to set a high bar for verification.

What is “Persian” in Late Sixth Century b.c.e. Prophetic Literature? Case Studies and Criteria* Dalit Rom-Shiloni

I. Introduction The 6th century b.c.e. has been glamorized as a highly creative era that confronted dramatic events.1 This is the century that saw a change of regimes, as the Neo-Babylonian empire gave way to the Persian; the century that knew the historical shift in the fortunes of Judah from independent kingdom to Babylonian province; the epoch that started with several deportation waves which established diaspora communities, and toward its end saw the restoration, even if only partial, of a Judean community in the Persian province of Yehud. This is the period that scholars have recognized as encompassing the preexilic, exilic, and then postexilic eras; or the time that falls mainly under the rubric of what Jill Middlemas has suggested calling “Templeless Judah.”2 What is “Persian” in late 6th century b.c.e. prophetic literature is the question I would like to address here, on the basis of two case studies. The two raise preliminary questions concerning the possible influences of Jeremiah and Ezekiel on the prophetic books of the Persian period and vice versa. The first of these case studies concerns the notion of the “empty land.” Does this literary trope represent history, myth, or a reformulated theological conception? Should or could it, therefore, serve at all as a criterion for Persian-period intrusions into earlier * This study was written with the help of the Israel Science Foundation (grant 148/09). A shorter version was presented at the Society for Biblical Literature International Meeting in Amsterdam, July 2012, on the first year of the Consultation sessions on the Persian Period. Over the years that passed until this volume came to fruition, I have published several studies that touch upon the issues brought here, I will refer to those in the notes below. I thank Dr. Ruth Clements for her ever-insightful comments. 1 D. W. Thomas, “The Sixth Century BC: A Creative Epoch in the History of Israel,” JSS 6 (1961), 33–46; M. Noth, “The Jerusalem Catastrophe of 587 B. C. and Its Significance for Israel,“ in The Laws in the Pentateuch and Other Studies (trans. D. R. Ap-Thomas; London: SCM Press, 1966), 260–280; and primarily P. R. Ackroyd, Exile and Restoration: A Study of Hebrew Thought of the Sixth Century B. C. (OTL; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1968), who presented a wide-ranging study of the literary compositions written and shaped over that period. 2 J. Middlemas, The Templeless Age: An Introduction to the History, Literature, and Theology of the “Exile” (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2007), 1–8.

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contexts of prophecy? The second calls attention to the function of allusion and exegesis in Persian-period prophecy, asking if the presence of such techniques is a sign of the decline of prophecy. I will briefly discuss each case and trace its contours, using the guidelines that have been established by scholars in their studies of the Persian period and specifically of its prophetic literature.

II. The Empty Land – History, Myth, or Reformulated Theological Conception? On Retrojecting from Persian-Period Literature to Early Sixth Century Prophecy There is almost a need to apologize for choosing this example for discussion, as the nature of the motif of the empty land has become one of the most discussed issues in Persian-period scholarship. Or maybe this is exactly the reason why I do want to briefly follow the line of the argumentation on this topic, to raise some worrisome questions of criteria. In his influential paper, “The Myth of the Empty Land,” Robert D. Carroll drew clear connections between the Second Temple repatriate community of ‫בני הגולה‬ and the conception of the empty land, which he termed “myth” (one of four or five different myths Carroll identified in this paper): The second temple community was therefore solely the creation of the bene haggôlâ or ’am haggôlâ (“the people of the deportation”), and the sacred enclave belonged only to them. The empty land myth must be seen as the production and property of that group of people, with its original power-base in the imperial court and the creation of the temple community as the forging of a power-base in the Judean territory. Much – in some sense perhaps all – of the literature of the Hebrew Bible must be regarded as the documentation of their claims to the land and as a reflection of their ideology.3

Carroll suggested that the notion of the empty land developed in the social and literary context of the Babylonian repatriates. Under the auspices of the Persian court, this group gained hegemony not only over their own community but over the entire anthology of texts (i. e., the developing textual traditions), maybe even the entire Hebrew Bible. These observations followed the outlines already laid down by Carroll in his book, From Chaos to Covenant: Uses of Prophecy in the Book of Jeremiah: It makes a good deal of sense to see such a dismissal [of the Judean group who had fled to Egypt and of Judean claims in general, D. R-S] as part of the counter-claim of the Baby3 R. D. Carroll, “The Myth of the Empty Land,” Semeia 59 (1992), 79–93, here 85. Carroll was not the first to call attention to the presence of ideological biases of the exiles in the formation of late biblical literature. See, for example, C. C. Torrey, Pseudo-Ezekiel and the Original Prophecy, and Critical Articles (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1930; repr., New York: Ktav, 1970, 102–108), who argued that the later layers of Ezekiel reflect a polemic with the Samaritans that peaked by the 2nd century b.c.e.

What is “Persian” in Late Sixth Century b.c.e. Prophetic Literature?

33

lonian exiles who returned to Palestine at various periods in the Persian era. […] The presence in the Jeremiah tradition of pericopes siding with the Babylonian exiles suggests an element in that community struggle after the ending of the Babylonian period. It may also contribute to the view that one of the strongest reasons for the production of the Jeremiah tradition along the lines it now takes is as a contribution to one of the parties in the struggle within the community.4

It is important to notice the analytical assumptions underlying Carroll’s assertions. The notion of the empty land is said to be an ideological fiction; it is presumed to have originated in Yehud during the Persian period; and thus it is presented in its extreme formulation in the late historiography of Chronicles (2 Chr 36:20–21; and in the Holiness Legislation, Lev 26:34–35) as well as in Ezra-Nehemiah.5 The next step taken by Carroll (and so many of his scholarly followers) was to relegate to the Persian period every passage within Jeremiah and Ezekiel that had articulated similar perceptions concerning the land. Carroll’s argument was reinforced by biblical scholars, historians, and archaeologists, who corroborated the dissonance between the textual presentation of an empty land in the early Persian-period sources and other literary and material culture evidence, revealed in archaeological digs and surface surveys.6 The myth of the empty land has thus gained almost the status of a scholarly axiom, and has become an accepted dating criterion.7 4 R. D. Carroll, From Chaos to Covenant: Uses of Prophecy in the Book of Jeremiah (London: SCM Press, 1981), 249–268, here 259. 5 Joseph Blenkinsopp surveyed in detail the post-biblical literary sources of this myth within rabbinic sources, drawing back on Hellenistic ones (assumed to have Jewish origins), and then arriving at biblical sources of the Persian period, that include only the above-mentioned sources from the historiogrpahy (2 Chronicles and Ezra-Nehemiah) and Lev 26. J. Blenkinsopp, “The Bible, Archaeology and Politics; or The Empty Land Revisited,” JSOT 27.2 (2002), 169–187, here 173–177. As argued below, this cannot be taken as covering the entire biblical data on the issue; furthermore, Blenkinsopp, “The Bible,” 177, 187, never really substantiated the origins of this myth in the assumed Persian period context. See note 12 below. 6 H. Barstad, “On the History and Archaeology of Judah during the Exilic Period,” OLP 19 (1988), 25–36; idem, The Myth of the Empty Land: A Study in the History and Archaeology of Judah during the ‘Exilic’ Period (SO 28; Oslo: Scandinavian University Press, 1996); and idem, “After the ‘Myth of the Empty Land’: Major Challenges in the Study of Neo-Babylonian Judah,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Neo-Babylonian Period (ed. O. Lipschits and J. Blenkinsopp; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2003), 3–20; Blenkinsopp, “The Bible,” 177–187; O. Lipschits, The Fall and Rise of Jerusalem: Judah under Babylonian Rule (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2005), 258–271. 7 Another venue of research that contributed to the notion of this myth was based on the assumed literary creativity that continued and further developed among those who had remained in Judah following the destruction. See E. Janssen, Juda in der Exilszeit: ein Beitrag zur Frage der Entstehung des Judentums (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1956); H. G. M. Williamson, “Structure and Historiography in Nehemiah 9,” in Proceedings of the Ninth World Congress of Jewish Studies, Panel Sessions: Bible Studies and the Ancient Near East (ed. M. Goshen-Gottstein; Jerusalem: World Congress of Jewish Studies, 1988), 117–131; idem, “Laments at the Destroyed Temple,” BRev 6/4 (1990), 12–17, 44. More recently, see J. Middlemas, The Troubles of Templeless Judah (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005); idem, The Templeless Age; and the sugges-

34

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Almost as one voice in the wilderness, Bustenai Oded has marshaled historical evidence to refute the “myth” of the myth.8 Bringing together biblical sources and archaeological findings, Oded emphasized the scarcity of the literary evidence that refers to or may illustrate continuous residence in the land; the sharp decline of epigraphic materials during the period following the exiles; the archaeological evidence that testifies to a considerable demographic decline in the main cities and in the rural areas of Judah during this period, with the exception of Benjamin and Transjordan.9 Oded thus argued for congruence between the literary evidence and the historical and archaeological data.10 I would like, however, to introduce some further challenges to this axiomatic myth (and not least, to its refutation), and raise three questions concerning its ideological utilization and its background: (A) Does Ezra-Nehemiah portray an “empty” land? The “unfortunate” answer is negative. Ezra-Nehemiah does not mobilize this notion at all.11 Rather, this book suggests that the repatriates had returned to a well-populated land, albeit tion to see Isa 40–55 as Judean, L.-S. Tiemeyer, For the Comfort of Zion: The Geographical and Theological Location of Isaiah 40–55 (VTSup 139; Leiden: Brill, 2011). I concur that there must have been ongoing literary activity in Judah. But, apart from Lamentations and Isa 63:7–64:11, I am skeptical of our ability to discern that Judah was indeed the place of authorship for those communal laments that Middlemas so designated (The Templeless, 28–51); and I take as even less plausible Tiemeyer’s suggestion to situate Second Isaiah in Judah. The meager traces of this activity in the Hebrew Bible tell of the hegemony of the Babylonian exiles (and then the repatriates) over the consolidation of the biblical literature, as discussed below.   8 B. Oded, “Where is the ‘Myth of the Empty Land’ To Be Found?” in Judah and the Judeans in the Neo-Babylonian Period (ed. O. Lipschits and J. Blenkinsopp; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2003), 55–74.   9 Archaeologists do discuss the demographic decline. Avraham Faust argued for a drastic population decline in rural Judah with a desertion of many of the settlements leading to a lack of settlement continuity. A. Faust, “Judah in the Sixth Century b.c.e.: A Rural Perspective,” PEQ 135.1 (2003), 37–53, here 41, 42–43, 45. Lipschits (The Fall, 258–271) drew his data from both archaeological digs and surveys and estimated the decline at 60 percent. In a subsequent paper, Gary Knoppers raised that estimate to a 70–80 percent decline; see G. N. Knoppers, “Exile, Return, and Diaspora: Expatriates and Repatriates in Late Biblical Literature,” in Texts, Contexts and Readings in Postexilic Literature: Explorations into Historiography and Identity Negotiation in Hebrew Bible and Related Texts (ed. L. Jonker; FAT 2.53; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 29–61, here 30–35. 10 Hermann-Josef Stipp evaluated the destruction and its consequences as a crisis of “ghastly magnitude” for human life in settled areas. Stipp compared the magnitude of this crisis to those of the Thirty Years’ War and the Shoah, and concluded his discussion by saying that “the author [of Jeremiah 37–43] could realistically expect that his dramatic portrayal of the state of affairs in Judah had a ring of truth.” H.-J. Stipp “The Concept of the Empty Land in Jeremiah 37–43,” in The Concept of Exile in Ancient Israel and Its Historical Contexts (ed. E. Ben-Zvi and C. Levin; BZAW 404; Berlin / ​New York: de Gruyter, 2010), 103–154, here 150. 11 Compare to Blenkinsopp (“The Bible,” 176–177), who indeed states that “[t]he empty land myth is displayed in somewhat less consistency in Ezra-Nehemiah” (176), and yet presents indirect information (such as Ezra 2:64–3:1) that he evaluates as a reflection of “the xenophobic ideology of Deuteronomy and informs the conquest of Canaan narrative in the book of Joshua” (177; referring to Ezra 9:1–2, 10–12; Neh 9:2).

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35

non-Judahite (non-Yahwistic) in its demographics. In fact, four different references to these “non-Judahite” peoples, identified as “people(s) of the land(s),” may be found in Ezra-Nehemiah.12 Furthermore, the text intentionally obscures other national identities; the four presentations of “the peoples” are marked by inconsistencies and deviations, and feature the anachronistic mention of the ancient peoples of Canaan and its surroundings. The overarching conflict posed in Ezra-Nehemiah is that between the (self-styled “Judean”) repatriates and these (past and present) “peoples of the land.” What is noteworthy in Ezra-Nehemiah’s presentation is thus not a conception of the land’s emptiness but the refusal to allow for the presence of any Judeans or Israelite-Yahwistic communities among those whom the returnees confronted. Hence, Lester L. Grabbe observed correctly that “the text simply refuses to admit that there were Jewish inhabitants of the land after the deportations under Nebuchadnezzar. […] One can only conclude that many, if not all, these ‘people of the land’ were the Jewish descendants of those who were not deported.”13 (B) Is the motif of the empty land an argument in a conflict that began only in Persian Yehud? The answer to this is also negative.14 As has been shown, the theme concerning the empty land does take shape in the internal polemic between the two Judean communities, and it appears in prophetic literature and in the historiography of 2 Kings as of the early or mid-6th century.15 It appears to 12 I have discussed this issue in a previous paper, and thus will omit the data here; see D. RomShiloni, “From Ezekiel to Ezra-Nehemiah: Shifts of Group-Identities within Babylonian Exilic Ideology,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Achaemenid Period: Negotiating Identity in an International Context (ed. G. Knoppers et al.; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2011), 127–151, here 134–136; idem, Exclusive Inclusivity: Identity Conflicts between the Exiles and the People who Remained (6th–5th Centuries BCE) (LHBOTS 543; London / ​New York: T & T Clark, 2013), 41–47. 13 L. L. Grabbe, Ezra-Nehemiah (London: Routledge, 1998), 138; see also Williamson, Ezra-Nehemiah, 46: “The possibility of true Jews being among them is simply not envisaged in these books.” Studies of the historical and sociological evidence have given weight to the assumption that any native Yahwistic communities of either Judeans or Israelites were disregarded. Yonina Dor arrived at this same conclusion by employing literary and anthropological methodologies, arguing that six different ceremonies of separation are described in Ezra-Nehemiah. Y. Dor, Have the “Foreign Women” Really Been Expelled? Separation and Exclusion in the Restoration Period (Jerusalem: Magnes, 2006), 94–98, 245–252 (Hebrew). 14 This assumption led scholars of Jeremiah to trace late layers of literary evolution mainly in chapters 24, 37–44. See K.-F. Pohlmann, Studien zum Jeremiabuches (FRLANT 118; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1978), 189–191, 203–204. 15 Stipp argued that this concept “was evoked among the deportees during an early phase of the exile.” Stipp, “Concept,” 124–136, 135; see also 149–154. His arguments for rejecting the Persian-period dating of the origins of this concept are of great importance (pp. 150–151); Lipschits considered Dtr2’s portrayal of the empty land and antagonism towards the people who remained to have been written close to the events, during the first generation of exile (The Fall, 348–359). Compare to Christoph Levin who seems to have followed the late exilic/post-exilic dating and suggested several sequential revisions in 2 Kgs 24 and 25, the later ones dated to the restoration period. C. Levin, “The Empty Land in Kings,” in The Concept of Exile in Ancient

36

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have been an ideological argument developed by the exiles in Babylon against those who remained in the land, and it continues to operate in the rhetoric of the repatriates following the return, in the early Persian era.16 According to this theme, Zion and the entire land have waited, desolate and barren, for the people, i. e., the exiles, to return, led by God. I would emphasize that this theme emerges, not in Ezra-Nehemiah, but in the prophetic tradition, and that it may be traced back to Ezekiel (e. g., Ezek 12:17–20; 36:6–15).17 It is carried through into the Persian period by DeuteroIsaiah and Zechariah (e. g., Isa 49:14–21; 54:1–10; 61:1–9; Zech 1:7–17; 2:14–17; 7:7–14; 8:1–3, 4–8, 9–14), where God appears as the one orchestrating the return, gathering in and leading the repatriates (Isa 40:1–2, 9–10; 52:11–12). Yet, Carroll did not differentiate between these two very different rhetorical oppositions: i. e., the exiles/repatriates versus foreign peoples on the one hand, and exiles/repatriates versus empty land, on the other. Just as he did not recognize that these themes were used independently by historiographers and by prophets, so he did not see that these independent motifs were drawn upon and combined by the repatriates to distinguish themselves ideologically from the population they met upon return. Carroll (and his academic followers) were interested in what might be called “the bottom line.” While at face value these two pairings reveal a major distinction between the historiography of Ezra-Nehemiah and the prophetic perspective, it is important to notice that both of these ideologies do illustrate the same basic excluding tendency. The Babylonian repatriate community of the Persian period styles itself as the one and only people of Judah, people of God, confronting upon return either an empty land or foreign peoples. Independently of each other, these two perspectives convey a complete disregard for any other Judean/Israelite-Yahwistic communities, in Yehud or elsewhere. Thus, the empty land theme is not an ideological innovation of Ezra-Nehemiah, neither does it signal a new theme that emerged for the first time in Persian Israel and its Historical Contexts (ed. E. Ben Zvi and C. Levin; BZAW 404; Berlin / ​New York: de Gruyter, 2010), 61–90, here 87–89. 16 Compare to Stipp, who argued that this conception evolved not as part of the conflict between exiles and those who remained, but as part of a debate among the Babylonian exiles themselves. According to Stipp, the concept “originated as a literary tool employed by a deportee who wrote in an early phase of the exile,” urging the exiles to react favorably toward the Babylonians, so to allow the survival of the people. Stipp, “Concept,” 153–154, here 154. 17 Ezekiel prophesies complete desolation for Judah in Ezek 6:11–14; 12:19–20; 14:13, 15, 17, 19; 15:8; 21:1–5; 33:27–29; 38:8. For Ezekiel’s fierce polemic against Jerusalem and his predictions of its total annihilation, see D. Rom-Shiloni, “Ezekiel as the Voice of the Exiles and Constructor of Exilic Ideology,” HUCA 76 (2005), 1–45, here 34–41; idem, Exclusive, 169–185. Contra Lipschits (The Fall, 348–359), I consider Dtr2 to have developed this prophetic argumentation for the sake of political-social polemic; and I would not agree that upon the return (i. e., in the early Persian period), the struggle narrows to one between elite groups for internal political control (The Fall, 358–359). I think that the overarching polemical concern remains that of group identity vis-à-vis those who had remained in Yehud.

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Yehud when Judean communities again resided in proximity. Rather, by the 5th century b.c.e. it is already a very old theme that had emerged in the ideological struggle between the exiles and those who remained in the land. This struggle began at the time of the very first Babylonian deportation (597 b.c.e.) of King Jehoiachin, his court, and some of the professional elite of Jerusalem (2 Kgs 24:8–17), including the prophet Ezekiel (Ezek 1:1–3). By the Persian period, the struggle had gone through several transformations. In any event, the conflict of the Persian period in Yehud designates but one additional step in that internal debate, certainly not its beginning.18 However, this leads to an even more disturbing question. (C) Was the empty land theme invented for the sake of this internal polemic? Or, to put it differently, what is the ideological/theological background of this portrayal? The empty land motif is indeed embedded in the prophetic tradition. It has its provenance as a theological conception in prophecies of judgment, where it illustrates the total, devastating destruction that God is about to bring upon the land. Its earlier extra-biblical origins may go back as far as the curses concluding Neo-Assyrian political treaties, and even as far as the Sumerian city laments of the early 2nd millennium b.c.e. These sources threaten or portray destruction as the complete devastation of the entire ecological system, through which inhabited cities, water sources, fields, and general surroundings are turned into genuine desert; the cessation of agriculture, trade, and daily human life, turns a once lively city (or kingdom) into an empty city and land.19 This portrayal of the destruction characterizes prophecies of judgment throughout the prophetic tradition, and is clearly accentuated in Jeremiah and Ezekiel. It comes to prominence in Ezekiel who, by way of illustration, quotes the Ammonites’ mocking of Judah’s destruction in these words: “Thus you said “Aha!” over my sanctuary when it was desecrated, and over the land of Israel when it was laid waste, and over the house of Judah when it went into exile (‫יען אמרך האח אל מקדשי כי נחל ואל אדמת ישראל כי נשמה ואל בית יהודה כי הלכו‬ ‫[ בגולה‬Ezek 25:3]). In Jeremiah, this portrayal of the empty land motif presents a special case. It is further found in Jeremian-Judean prophecies as also in the “From Ezekiel,” 127–151; idem, Exclusive, 253–276. parallels within the political treaties, see D. R. Hillers, Treaty Curses and the Old Testament Prophets (BibOr 16; Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1964), 43–79; parallels between the Sumerian city laments and Lamentations as well as prophetic passages were discussed by F. W. Dobbs-Allsopp, Weep, O Daughter of Zion: A Study of the City-Lament Genre in the Hebrew Bible (BibOr 44; Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1993), 66–72, 67. A portrait of the total destruction of people, city, and land, leaving the city empty and desolated, may be found in the Sumerian city laments; see S. N. Kramer, Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur (AS 12; Chicago: University of Chicago, 1940), 400–403, 422; J. S. Cooper, The Curse of Agade (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1983), 257, 279–280; P. Michalowski, The Lamentation over the Destruction of Sumer and Ur (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1989), 346–349; and see also 126–132, 309–316, 322–328. 18 Rom-Shiloni, 19 For

38

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Babylonian exilic and repatriate layers of the Jeremian tradition (see, e. g., Jer 33:10–11, 12–13).20 Typical of these prophecies is the emphasis on God as the sole agent of destruction.21 The consequences are portrayed as all encompassing – the cities have become heaps of ruins (‫גלים‬, Jer 9:10; ‫עיים‬, Jer 26:18). ‫“( חרבה‬ruin”) is used to designate the destruction of the temple (Jer 22:5; Isa 64:10); the city (Jer 26:17; Ezek 5:14); the condition of Jerusalem and the cities of Judah (Jer 44:2, 6; 25:18), and the condition of the entire land (Jer 7:34; 25:11; Ezek 38:8).22 The city and the rural land around it are desolated, ecologically destroyed (‫ שמה‬or ‫שממה‬, Jer 10:22; 19:8; 34:22; ‫נשמות‬, Jer 33:10).23 Out of their ethnocentric conception, the prophets also describe the widespread death of animals and the total devastation of agriculture within the land (Jer 7:20; 21:6; 36:29). The land turns into ‫“( שממה ארץ לא נושבה‬a desolation, an uninhabited land,” Jer 6:8; and note 12:10), empty of man and beast (Jer 9:11; 32:43).24 These descriptions have a clear theological intention. They are central components in the theological conception of the destruction as the divine action of an omnipotent God who fights against his own people. As a sole and omnipotent warrior, God causes tremendous transformations to the land and its environs, much beyond what human kings and armies could ever have done. It is, therefore, crucial to observe that this entire complex of which the conception of the empty land is a part did not emerge for the sake of any politicalsocial-internal debate among Judeans of the Second Temple period. In its initial stage it was not used to express a sociological perspective, just as (in response to Oded, and to the historical-archaeological approaches) it was not a report on the actual historical/physical situation of the land. Rather, the empty land motif took shape as a component within the theological conception of the destruction as a divine judgment.25 20 For the full discussion, see D. Rom-Shiloni, “Group-Identities in Jeremiah: Is it the Persian Period Conflict?” in A Palimpsest: Rhetoric, Stylistics, and Language in Biblical Texts from the Persian and Hellenistic Periods (ed. E. Ben-Zvi et al.; PHSC 5; Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias, 2009), 11–46; idem, Exclusive, 220–252. 21 Other passages that name God as the agent of this total destruction include Jer 6:8; 7:34; 9:9, 11; 12:4, 10–11; 18:16; 25:11; 32:43; 45:4. There is one exception in Jeremiah, where humans are understood to stand behind the disaster, Jer 12:10. 22 See also the pairing ‫ חרבה ושממה‬in Jer 44:6; and in the prophecies against the nations, Ezek 29:9; 35:4. 23 There are only a few references within Jeremiah and Ezekiel to the destruction of other cities beside Jerusalem, and these cities are not mentioned by name (Jer 4:29; 9:10; 10:22; 33:10, 12; 34:22; 44:2; Ezek 12:20). 24 Additional images used to convey this total destruction include, for example, the phrase ‫( מעון תנים‬Jer 9:10; 10:22), which suggests that the total absence of human life in the cities allows jackals to use it as their residential territory. 25 Compare to Stipp, “Concept,” 150–154. Compare further to Ben Zvi, who indeed focused on the conceptual sphere, and suggested that as part of the conception of “Total Exile,” the “Empty Land” notion developed as an “inner Yehudite” conception of settlement discontinu-

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I want to make four points to summarize this first case study: (a) The present discussion suggests a totally different framework for the evolution of this conception than that of Carroll. It places the conception of the empty land theme in a different theological context, and traces to Ezekiel the development of this ideology into a rhetorical weapon in the internal Judean struggle between the Jehoiachin exiles and those who remained under Zedekiah in Jerusalem. The portrayal of Judah and Jerusalem as empty and desolate, with the corollary that the Jehoiachin exiles are the only remnant of the former people of God, serves Ezekiel to delegitimize Jerusalem and the people that had remained in the land (cf. Ezek 33:23–29). In the early Persian period, the repatriates – now at least three generations removed from the Jehoiachin exiles, brought these exclusionary arguments back with them from Babylon, and reused them against their non-exiled Judean compatriots. Thus, there is no need and no good reason to understand the “empty land” passages in the prophetic literature, and specifically in Jeremiah and Ezekiel, as later interpolations.26 (b) It is rather possible to suggest an alternative picture for the clear domination of the Babylonian exiles and then the repatriates over the biblical literature of the 6th–5th centuries. In the context of a discussion of group identity issues, I have previously suggested that it is fruitful to focus on what I have termed “Babylonian exilic ideologies.”27 In view of the work of Jill Middlemas, I should explain my usage of “exilic” here. I use the term not to define the time frame, but as a locative terminology and a social category: “exilic” (literature, and thus ideologies) designates a place of and ideological framework for the writing, compiling, and editing of literary compositions during the 6th century, and probably beyond. “Babylonian exilic ity within the majority population of early Persian Yehud, who were of Benjaminite and other Judahite communities of those who remained. According to Ben Zvi, these counter-factual conceptions developed in Persian Yehud and thus were not imposed by the Babylonian exilic repatriates upon them. Furthermore, they are based on conceptual traditions of (1) the total destruction and the divine anger, (2) the impurity of the land and (3) the metaphor of Jerusalem as God’s consort. Ben Zvi argued that the combination of all those theological conceptions demanded a period of an empty land before a conceptual re-building of this community’s self-identity and hopes in the future could be sustained. E. Ben Zvi, “Total Exile, Empty Land and the General Intellectual Discourse in Yehud,” in The Concept of Exile in Ancient Israel and its Historical Contexts (ed. E. Ben Zvi and C. Levin; BZAW 404; Berlin / ​New York: de Gruyter, 2010), 155–168. The discussion here is focused only on the theological origin of the empty land as an element within the conception of God as a sole warrior and enemy of his own people, and only secondarily as an argument of self (or counter)-identity. 26 In contrast to the scholarly position that dates certain prophecies in Ezekiel (11:14–21; 33:23–29; 36:6–15) to the Persian period, mainly on account of this portrayal of the land as desolate. 27 Rom-Shiloni, “From Ezekiel,” 127–151; idem, Exclusive, 1–30. Contra Ben Zvi (“Total Exile,” 162), I do take this theme to be part of the Babylonian exilic ideology designed to counter those who remained.

40

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ideologies” is an overarching term denoting the entire spectrum of ideological perceptions reflected in the literature written (and/or compiled) both by exiles in Babylon and by repatriates in Achaemenid Yehud.28 With that said, this definition of Babylonian exilic literature and ideologies stands independently of the reasonable assumption that literary creativity had also continued in templeless Yehud.29 My assumption is that in late 6th century Yehud, authors from (at least) two Judean communities (repatriates and nonexiled groups) were active, writing from independent, and even antagonistic, perspectives.30 In contrast to Jill Middlemas, Lena-Sofia Tiemeyer, and Ehud Ben Zvi, my research focuses on what became the biblical (literary and ideological) mainstream voices, which are clearly governed by the communities of the Babylonian exiles and repatriates. In distinction from paradigms that retroject developments from the Persian period back into the earlier literature,31 I have traced the transformations of the ideologies that were first initiated by Ezekiel during the Jehoiachin Exile (597 b.c.e.), through to the times of Ezra and Nehemiah (458–432 b.c.e.), in Babylon and then in Persian Yehud.32 (c) The historical and archaeological discussions concerning the empty land, including the search for the different ethnic groups that populated Yehud during the Persian period, seem to be of only limited value at this stage of scholarship. These studies have made two important contributions. First, they have shown that Judah was certainly not a tabula rasa in the 6th century b.c.e., although its population had dramatically decreased. They have clearly illustrated the great gulf between the material findings and the literary biblical evidence, which indeed shows that the biblical account represents an ideological contention over issues of group identity. Second, these studies have helped to highlight the historical evidence for the existence of several Yahwistic groups in Persian Yehud, by comparison with the biblical evidence for Yahwistic-Judean communities. John Kessler noted six different Yahwistic communities of this time: (1) Golah returnees; (2) Golah remainees in Babylonia; (3) Yehudite remainees; (4) Egyptian Yahwists; (5) Samarian Yahwists; (6) other Yahwists in the Levant.33 28 John Kessler recognizes the influence of what he simply terms the “Golah”  – i. e., the “community of exiled and returned Judeans” – on the biblical literature, and indeed he briefly discusses a few passages in Ezek 11:1–21 and 33:23–29 and Jer 24 before he focuses his attention on Ezra-Nehemiah. J. Kessler, “Persia’s Loyal Yahwists: Power, Identity, and Ethnicity in Achaemenid Yehud,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Neo-Babylonian Period (ed. O. Lipschits and J. Blenkinsopp; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2003), 92–121. 29 See above, n. 8. 30 Rom-Shiloni, Exclusive, 1–13. Thus, I would disagree with Ackroyd’s insistence on general continuity throughout the period. See Ackroyd, Exile, 232–256. 31 To mention a few of those that retroject the Persian period back to early 6th century compositions, see Carroll, Pohlmann, Blenkinsopp, Ben Zvi, among many others. 32 Rom-Shiloni, Exclusive. 33 Kessler, “Persia’s,” 92–98.

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41

But it is just as important to notice that according to biblical sources, two different circles of internal conflicts had developed between Babylon and Judah/Yehud by the Persian period. One conflict pertained to in-group relationships among the Babylonian exiles and the repatriates in Judah (Kessler’s groups 1–2);34 the other involved relationships between the Babylonian repatriates and those who had remained in Judah/Yehud following the earlier expulsions.35 Hence, the clear contradiction between historical and literary evidence shows itself again, as ideological forces govern the biblical sources stemming from this time. The Hebrew Bible sources stemming from Persian Yehud establish a dichotomy between only two communities of Judean-Yahwists – the Babylonian exiles (and later repatriates) and those who had remained, and their conflict is focused on dramatic questions of identity. No other presumed Yahwistic group is figured into this struggle. (d) There is a clear line of continuity that is of great importance to all participants in this internal struggle (and no less so to the scholars involved). Hans Barstad has emphasized continuity of residence in the land as of major importance to those who remained. But continuity is just as important for the Babylonian exiles. They indeed hold to their traditions over the 6th and 5th centuries b.c.e., transforming them with reference to their lives in exile and then back in Yehud, as we have seen in this example. This entire discussion thus brings us back to the first question posed in this paper: “What may be ‘Persian’ in Late Sixth Century Prophecy?” I would not categorize the conception of the “empty land” as “Persian” at all.

III. Allusion and Exegesis in Persian-Period Prophecy – Is it a Sign of Decline? The second case study calls attention to the use of allusion and exegesis in Persian-period prophecy. The study of Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi, the three last prophets, has gone through important changes over the last four decades. In the introduction to his commentary on Haggai, John Kessler gathered an extensive list of insults scholars have hurled at this prophet over the 19th and 20th centuries.36 To trace some of the worst denigrations, one should go back to Julius 34 P. R. Bedford, “Diaspora: Homeland Relations in Ezra-Nehemiah,” VT 52/2 (2002), 147–166; idem, Temple Restoration in Early Achaemenid Judah (JSJSup 65; Leiden: Brill, 2001). 35 Richard J. Coggins correctly stated that “we should probably be wise enough to admit that we have insufficient evidence to enable us to spell out the detailed structure of the community.” R J. Coggins, Haggai, Zechariah, Malachi (OTG; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1987), 57; also see ­Kessler, “Persia’s,” 93–96. 36 J. Kessler, The Book of Haggai: Prophecy and Society in Early Persian Yehud (Leiden: Brill, 2002), 2–3.

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Wellhausen’s treatment of the Persian-period prophets. Wellhausen considered Jeremiah to be the last prophet of Judah.37 According to Wellhausen, in relying on “the former prophets” (Zech 1:4; 7:7, 12), Zechariah recognized that he and his compatriots belonged to the prophets’ disciples, those who were but epigoni, imitators, of their esteemed predecessors. These late prophets were said to be part of the transitional period from Israelite religion to Judaism.38 This transition was marked by a decline from the elevated, visionary prophecy of the Babylonian period to prophecy that is marked by poor literary style, dull theological conceptions, and extreme nationalistic perspectives (often ascribed to Haggai on the basis of Hag 2:10–14). In addition, legalistic and cultic interests were said to characterize these prophets, interests that illustrated bluntly this decline of prophecy. The assumption was that the late prophets gradually became involved in the presumed priestly Levitical activity of the Persian period.39 37  Julius Wellhausen’s arguments were references in Lam 2:9, Isa 43:11, and Ps 74:11 concerning a lack of prophecy during the exilic period, together with Zechariah’s reliance on “the former prophets” (Zech 1:4; 7:7, 12), that illustrate that these later writers were aware of standing outside the prophetic tradition, and of following long after the great prophets of old. Even Ezekiel merited great criticism from Wellhausen, who considered him merely to be a prophet who had swallowed a scroll and then vomited it – “the connecting link between the prophet and the law,” who: “claims to be a prophet, and starts from prophetic ideas: but they are not his own ideas, they are those of his predecessors, which he turns into dogmas. He is by nature a priest, and his peculiar merit is that he enclosed the soul of prophecy in the body of a community which was not political, but founded on the temple and the cultus. […] Thus arose that artificial product, the sacred constitution of Judaism.” J. Wellhausen, Prolegomena to the History of Ancient Israel (Gloucester, MA: Peter Smith, 1973), 402–404, 421; repr. of Prolegomena to the History of Ancient Israel (trans. J. S. Black and A. Enzies; Edinburgh: Adam & Charles Black, 1885); trans. of Prolegomena zur Geschichte Israels (2d ed.; Berlin: G. Reimer, 1883). Deutero-Isaiah, in turn, is more of a theologian than a prophet (404). It is quite remarkable that within rabbinic literature, Pesikta of Rav Kahanah 116a says: “Just as Benjamin is last of all the tribes, so is Jeremiah last of all the prophets. [But] were not Haggai, Zechariah and Malachi prophesying after him? Rabbi Elazar and Rabbi Samuel son of Nahmani [said]: Prophecy was already ordained in his hands (and it was transmitted) in the hands of Haggai, Zechariah and Malachi” (translation my own; see also t. Sotah 13:2). 38 Following Wellhausen, this has become a common scholarly observation, see A. Weiser, The Old Testament: Its Formation and Development (trans. D. M. Barton; London: Darton, Longman & Todd, 1961), 268, 271–272; G. von Rad, The Message of the Prophets (trans. D. M. G. Stalker; London: SCM Press, 1969), 245–258, 264–270. Von Rad drew very clear distinctions between Jeremiah, Ezekiel and Deutero-Isaiah, whom he clearly admired, and the Persian period prophets, of whom he argued that the circumstances were such that they did not inspire great prophecy (p. 246): “The period after the return was neither clear nor great. […] and their only success could lie in the way in which they dealt with them.” In discussing Haggai and Zechariah, von Rad further accentuated “the different spiritual condition of the people to whom the later prophets were sent” (248); under these circumstances the prophets had to struggle merely to broaden the religious beliefs of the people (249). 39 R. Mason, “The Prophets of the Restoration,” in Israel’s Prophetic Tradition: Essays in Honour of Peter R. Ackroyd (ed. R. J. Coggins et al.; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), 137–154. For the priestly background of the later prophets, see S. L. Cook, Prophecy and Apocalypticism: The Postexilic Social Setting (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995).

What is “Persian” in Late Sixth Century b.c.e. Prophetic Literature?

43

It is not surprising that connections were again drawn from the works of the Chronicler, which for scholars of this era included Ezra-Nehemiah, and from the priestly pentateuchal literature, to the short prophetic collections of the late prophets. Or, rather, that scholars developed conceptions of major theological trajectories within exilic and postexilic literature, along which the later prophets were located. In all conceptions, the later prophets have been considered heirs to the classical prophecy of the early 6th century, but the nature of this heritage has been disputed. Do these writings reflect either eschatological (even [proto‑] apocalyptic) and theocratic circles of later authors (as argued by Otto Plöger and Paul Hanson)?40 Do they instead represent a mixture of earlier competing prophetic circles of Judean/Jerusalem and Ephraimite origin (as according to Robert Wilson)?41 Or rather, does Persian-period prophecy, such as Zech 1–8, reflect the ideology of a priestly, millennialist group that was both “central-cult focused” and “nationalistically royalist,” and held a Zadokite perspective on the restoration of the priesthood (as suggested by Stephen Cook, countering Plöger and Hanson)?42 Underlying these specific and very different suggestions, two historical processes were seen to be intertwined – the decline of prophecy and the emergence of Judaism – and the Persian-period prophets (Haggai, Zechariah, Malachi, Trito-Isaiah, and Joel) were understood to be a part of both. Of this huge and complicated issue, I would like to address but one literary aspect, which emerges from the consideration of the independent developments relating to prophecy and cult – that is, the use of biblical allusion and exegesis in Haggai and Zechariah. This phenomenon has traditionally been seen as an illustration of an evolution in the late prophetic literature from prophecy per se to interpretation. According to the traditional conception, this evolution stems from the lack, or at least decline, of prophetic vision, which caused the latter prophets to rely on the great spirits of their predecessors and to interpret their words – using allusion and adaptation to actualize former prophecies for new realities – rather than articulate words of their own. But what was originally perceived as a great failing of Haggai and Zechariah has come to be seen in the last few decades as one of their strengths, thanks to the studies of Peter Ackroyd, Rex Mason, Janet Tollington, Risto Nurmela, Mark 40 For the exilic and postexilic theological streams, see O. Plöger, Theocracy and Eschatology (trans. S. Rudman; Oxford: Blackwell, 1968), 106–117; O. H. Steck, “Das Problem theologischer Strömungen in nachexilischer Zeit,” EvT 28 (1968), 445–458. Paul D. Hanson drew the theocratic tendency back to Ezekiel and found Haggai and Zechariah to be part of this theocratic party, following their predecessor. P. D. Hanson, The Dawn of Apocalyptic: The Historical and Sociological Roots of Jewish Apocalyptic Eschatology (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1975), 209–279. See also D. L. Petersen, Late Israelite Prophecy: Studies in Deutero-Prophetic Literature and in Chronicles (SBLMS 23; Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1977), 6–8, 13–16. 41 R. R. Wilson, Prophecy and Society in Ancient Israel (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1980), 297– 308. 42 Cook, Prophecy, 148–158.

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Boda, John Kessler, and Michael Stead, to mention the major voices.43 Nevertheless, the basic scholarly assumption that inner-biblical exegesis usurps the role of prophetic vision seems still to shape scholarly studies of late prophetic literature. Or to put it in a more moderate way, scholars have articulated the opposition between the “spoken word” (of God) and the “written word” (of human prophets) as a further marker of the decline of prophecy. Along these lines, Wilson wrote: “The postexilic prophets resorted to various authority-enhancing devices in their writings and relied increasingly on the written word rather than the spoken word.”44 Once again, I would like to challenge the implicit or explicit criteria that have directed these studies, by asking two questions: Are allusion and exegesis distinctive markers of Persian-period prophetic literature? And, is the use of this technique a sign either of the decline of prophecy or of the transition from Israelite religion to Judaism? I will answer both questions in the negative. (A) Already by the early 6th century b.c.e., biblical allusions and inner-biblical exegesis may be counted among the essential characteristics of the prophetic mission of both Jeremiah and Ezekiel. The two major prophets and their books reflect the usage of pentateuchal literary and legal traditions in significant ways.45 To mention only a partial list, allusions to and utilization of pentateuchal traditions serve both prophets in their understandings of the God–people relationship;46 43 P. R. Ackroyd, Exile and Restoration: A Study of Hebrew Thought of the Sixth Century B. C.

(Philadelphia: Westminster, 1968), 138–217; R. A. Mason, The Books of Haggai, Zechariah and Malachi (CBC; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977); J. E. Tollington, Tradition and Innovation in Haggai and Zechariah (JSOTSup 150; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993); R. Nurmela, Prophets in Dialogue: Inner-Biblical Allusions in Zechariah 1–8 and 9–14 (Åbo: Åbo Akademis Förlag, 1996); M. J. Boda, “Zechariah: Master Mason or Penitential Prophet,” in Yahwism after the Exile: Perspectives on Israelite Religion in the Persian Era (ed. R. Albertz and B. Becking; Studies in Theology and Religion 5; Assen: Van Gorcum, 2003), 49–69; idem, Haggai, Zechariah (NIV Application Commentary Series; Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2004); Kessler, Haggai; M. R. Stead, The Intertextuality of Zechariah 1–8 (LHBOTS 506; London / ​ New York: T & T Clark, 2009). 44 Wilson, Prophecy, 306–307. This conception of prophecy stands behind the scholarly understanding of Fortschreibung as the ongoing literary development in prophetic compositions throughout, handled by tradents who were scribes, not prophets. See O. H. Steck, The Prophetic Books and their Theological Witness (trans. James Nogalski; St. Louis: Chalice Press, 2000); K. van der Toorn, Scribal Culture and the Making of the Hebrew Bible (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2007), 173–204. For this phenomenon as a Persian period characteristic of Judaism, see among others R. G. Kratz, The Prophets of Israel (trans. A. C. Hagedorn and N. MacDonald; Critical Studies in the Hebrew Bible, 2; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2015). 45 Inner-biblical allusions and interpretation within prophecy of the 7th-6th centuries invoking pentateuchal materials were presented by M. A. Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel (Oxford: Clarendon, 1988); B. D. Sommer, A Prophet Reads Scripture: Allusion in Isaiah 40–66 (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1998), among others. 46 Jeremiah 11:1–14, alluding to Deut 27, and to Deuteronomic covenant conceptions; and differently, Jer 3:1–5 alluding to Deut 24:1–4. Ezekiel 16:1–43 alludes to the lists of the Canaanite nations in Lev 18, 20, and Deut 7; and in a different way Ezek 20:1–38 alludes to the Exodus

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in their justifications of God in his judgment against Jerusalem and Judah;47 in supplying conceptions of exile to make sense of present circumstances;48 and in legitimizing the prophets’ status and roles. Both Jeremiah and Ezekiel allude to and echo other segments of biblical literature as well, including poetry and wisdom.49 Each of them also refers implicitly to earlier prophetic literature. Jeremiah makes repeated reference to Moses (e. g., Jer 1:4–10; 15:1) and relies constantly on Hosea.50 While Ezekiel only rarely echoes or alludes to Jeremiah (the prophet, or his book), he does present an implicit literary allusion to his earlier colleague (or his book) when Ezekiel expands Jeremiah’s commission prophecy (Ezek 3:1–8 and Jer 1:9, etc.).51 Does this practice, then, mean that we should assign the decline of prophecy already to Jeremiah and Ezekiel? Or rather, that what has been considered to be a (degenerative) characteristic of later Persian-period prophecy is actually yet another component or constituent of a long-standing prophetic tradition that evolved on a continuum throughout the 6th century, irrespective of the change of regimes? traditions and to various priestly legal traditions. See D. Rom-Shiloni, “Actualization of Pentateuchal Legal Traditions in Jeremiah: More on the Riddle of Authorship,” ZAR 15 (2009), 254–281; idem, “‘On the Day I Freed Them from the Land of Egypt’: A Non-Deuteronomic Phrase within Jeremiah’s Covenant Conception” VT 65.4 (2015), 621–647; idem, “The Covenant in the Book of Jeremiah: On the Employment of Marital and Political Metaphors,” in Covenant in the Persian Period: From Genesis to Chronicles (ed. R. Bautch and G. Knoppers; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2015), 153–174. The examples brought here and in the following notes cannot be exhaustive; moreover, scholars often consider the literary dependency as late scribal layers within prophecy, see R. Achenbach, “Die Tora und die Propheten im 5. und 4. Jh. v. Chr,” BZAR 7 (2007), 26–71; or as multi-directional processes of borrowings, see C. Nihan, “Ezekiel and the Holiness Legislation: A Plea for Nonlinear Models,” in The Formation of the Pentateuch: Bridging the Academic Cultures of Europe, Israel, and North America (ed. J. C. Gertz et al.; FAT 111; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 1015–1040. 47 E. g., Jer 7:1–15; 17:19–27; 34:8–22; see Rom-Shiloni, “Actualization,” 257–261. 48 E. g., Jer 5:19; 9:11–15; 16:10–13, 14–15; 22:24–30; 27:9, 15; as well as Ezek 11:1–13, 14–21; 20:32 and its refutation, vv. 33–38, all alluding to Deuteronomic conceptions of exile. See RomShiloni, “Deuteronomic Concepts of Exile Interpreted in Jeremiah and Ezekiel,” in Birkat Shalom: Studies In the Bible, Ancient Near Eastern Literature and Postbiblical Judaism Presented to Shalom M. Paul on the Occasion of His Seventieth Birthday (ed. C. Cohen et al.; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2008), 101–123. 49 See Jer 10:24–25, alluding to Ps 79:6; and Ezek 14:12–23 alluding to heroes of the wisdom literature. See G. Fischer, Jeremiah 1–25 (HthKAT; Freiburg: Herder, 2005), 65–74, 170–72, 248–50, and passim. 50 N. Habel, “The Form and Significance of the Call Narratives,” ZAW 77 (1965), 297–323; W. L. Holladay, “The Background of Jeremiah’s Self-Understanding,” JBL 83 (1964), 313–324; idem, “Jeremiah and Moses: Further Observations,” JBL 85 (1966), 17–27; C. R. Seitz, “The Prophet Moses and the Canonical Shape of Jeremiah,” ZAW 101 (1989), 3–27; for correlations between Jeremiah and Hosea, see W. L. Holladay, Jeremiah 2 (Hermenia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1989), 45–47. 51 D. Rom-Shiloni, “Ezekiel and Jeremiah: What Might Stand Behind the Silence?” HBAI 2 (2012), 1–28.

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The related assumptions that allusions to earlier prophets are markers of the deteriorating powers of prophecy; and that the adaptation of earlier phraseology and themes are clear signs of unoriginality and the loss of prophetic vision – both seem unwarranted to me. (B) The continuity of this prophetic approach may be further demonstrated by comparing the specific ways in which prophets and historiographers of the Persian period utilize pentateuchal exegesis. Two important differences set Persian period prophecy apart from late historiographical usage of the phrase or concept ‫ספר התורה‬. The first concerns the prophetic role, the second refers to the literature evoked in each genre. These differences may be illustrated by comparison of the usage of the phrase ‫ ספר התורה‬in Ezra-Nehemiah and Chronicles with that of ‫ שאל נא את הכהנים תורה‬in Hag 2:10–19. The phrase ‫ספר התורה‬, peculiar to the historiographical books, is used in reference to the performance of specific rituals, festivals, sacrifices, and prescriptions that are activated and authorized by following assumedly written laws said to be part of the written book of Moses, or more often by transforming them (‫ככתוב בתורה‬, Neh 10:35, 37).52 This formulaic use is clearly later than and different from Haggai’s request to ask for a ‫( תורה‬i. e., “instruction”) from the priests in Hag 2:10–19. Haggai 2:10–19 serves as a good illustration of the distinction between the roles of prophets and priests (or Levites) in interpreting, adapting, and actualizing pentateuchal legal traditions.53 The first subunit, vv. 10–14, is crafted as an 52 Note the phrases ‫( ככתוב‬Ezra 3:4; Neh 8:15; 2 Chr 30:5, 18); ‫( ככתוב בתורה‬Neh 10:35, 37); ‫( ככתוב בתורת משה‬in 2 Chr 23:18); ‫( ככתוב בתורה בספר משה‬in 2 Chr 25:4); ‫ככתוב בתורת יהוה‬ (in 2 Chr 31:3; 35:26); ‫( ככתוב בספר משה‬in 2 Chr 35:12); ‫( ספר תורת יהוה ביד משה‬in 2 Chr 34:14). Apart from Ezra-Nehemiah and Chronicles, the concept of a written “Torah” appears only in 2 Kgs 14:6: ‫ ;ככתוב בספר תורת משה‬2 Kgs 23:21: ‫ ;ככתוב על ספר הברית הזה‬and Dan 9:11: ‫אשר‬ ‫כתובה בתורת משה‬. Sara Japhet presented the innovative use of those phrases in contexts that transform and significantly change the alluded laws, see S. Japhet, “Law and ‘the Law’ in EzraNehemiah,” in Proceedings of the Ninth World Congress of Jewish Studies: Panel Sessions. Bible Studies and the Ancient Near East (ed. M. Goshen-Gottstein; Jerusalem: World Union of Jewish Studies, 1988), 99–115. 53 Haggai 2:10–19 has been one of the most frequently discussed passages in Haggai. I will refer below only to the necessary issues; the full discussion is set out in Rom-Shiloni, Exclusive, 62–74. The very clear differences between 2:10–14 and 15–19 have caused scholars to distinguish them from one another. Johann W. Rothstein discussed each passage separately, and suggested that 2:15–19 should follow the date superscription in 1:15a (BHS). J. W. Rothstein, Juden und Samaritaner: die grundlegende Scheidung von Judentum und Heidentum. eine kritische Studie zum Buche Haggai und zur judischen Geschichte im ersten nachexilischen Jahrhundert (BWA(N) T 3; Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1908), 5–40 and 53–73. See also E. Sellin, Das Zwolfprophetenbuch (KAT 12; Leipzig: Deichert, 1922), 454–459. But note Paul Redditt’s criticism of this suggestion. P. Redditt, Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi (NCC; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995), 25–26. David L. Petersen distinguished between the Aaronite priests interested in sacrificial cult with ritual purity and the Levitical priests of Deut 17:8–13 who invoke the torah in its wider range of issues. In Petersen’s conception, Hag 2:10–14 should be associated with the former, Aaronite sphere. D. L. Petersen, Haggai and Zechariah 1–8 (OTL; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1984), 73.

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explicit dialogue with the priests, and focuses on issues of holiness and defilement within the cultic arena. Haggai evokes the related priestly conceptions of sancta contiguity, which presumably transfers holiness (see Lev 5:1–4; 6:7–11, 17–20; 7:20–21), and corpse contamination, which clearly transfers defilement (Num 19:11–22).54 He thus frames his two rhetorical questions, ‫ היקדש‬and ‫היטמא‬, with respect to these commonly accepted concepts (Hag 2:12, 13).55 These two ritual and legal questions then serve the prophet as a platform for his prophetic proclamation concerning the people, in v. 14: Thereupon Haggai said: That is how this people and that is how this nation looks to me – declares the LORD – and so, too, the work of their hands: Whatever they offer there is defiled.

‫ויען חגי ויאמר כן העם הזה‬ ‫וכן הגוי הזה לפני נאם יהוה‬ ‫וכן כל מעשה ידיהם‬ ‫ואשר יקריבו שם טמא הוא‬

Verse 14 is constructed by means of two pairings: 1) this people and this nation; and 2) their products, specified as that which they sacrifice.56 Stylistically, the prophetic pronouncement continues the priestly phraseology in delivering the final verdict: ‫טמא הוא‬.57 Listing these four components individually allows for two different understandings of who is to be considered defiled. According to the first possibility, the four components are equivalent elements; i. e., the people and their products are equally defiled.58 According to the second, the four components are structured in the elevated triad pattern of 3+1, so that the first three components are equivalent to one another and ‫ טמא הוא‬thus relates directly only

54 ‫( טמא נפש‬Hag 2:13; or ‫טמא לנפש‬, Lev 21:1–5; 22:4–7; Num 5:2; 6:6–13; 9:6, 7, 10; see Redditt, Haggai, 27) is the most severe defilement caused by the human body. The allusion to Num 19:11–22 is of interest, since Haggai seems thus to apply this degree of severity to the defilement of YHWH’s Temple (see Num 19:13, 20). 55 See Jacob Milgrom on Haggai’s circumscription of the priestly conception of holiness that he calls “sancta contagion.” J. Milgrom, Leviticus 1–16 (AB 3A; New York: Doubleday, 2004), 449–455. While the principles are certainly clear, Hag 2:12 does suggest a case otherwise unknown in Priestly sources: the sacred meat is held by a “man” (not specifically a priest), and the wrapping cloth touches other foods that seem not to belong to a sacral context (e. g., ‫הנזיד‬, “boiled food”). See Petersen, Haggai, 76–78; Kessler argues that the priests’ answer accords with Lev 6:20. Kessler, Haggai, 204. 56 This balanced structure may serve as additional argument for the secondary nature of the addition in the Septuagint version of v. 14. See Z. Talshir, Zechariah 1–8 (Olam HaTanakh; Tel Aviv: Davidson-Iti, 1994), 162 (Hebrew). 57 ‫ טמא הוא‬is a well-documented priestly formula. It occurs in reference to pure and defiled animals (in the singular, Lev 11:4, 5, 7, and 38; in the plural, vv. 8, 26, 27, 28, and 41; see similarly, Deut 14:8, 10, 19, and 7). The phrase also denotes the defilement resulting from the skin affliction usually translated “leprosy” (Lev 13:11, 15, etc.; and see the converse formula: ‫טהור‬ ‫הוא‬, in 13:11 and 13), which also afflicts the affected person’s house (14:44); the male discharge (Lev 15:2); and the defilement resulting from contact with the dead (Num 19:20). Haggai 2:14 is the only other occurrence of this formula in the Hebrew Bible. 58 So Kessler, Haggai, 206.

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to the last, culminating component; that is, their sacrifices.59 Allowance for these two ways of reading may be intentional; as a culmination to the rhetorical questions of 2:12 and 13, Haggai suggests here that, just as impurity communicates itself where holiness cannot, so the impure sacrifices communicate their impurity “in reverse,” to the whole people.60 But Hag 2:10–19 adds a significant element to the relationship triad of Godpeople-temple/land. While the transition from vv. 10–14 to 15–19 has been recognized as abrupt, and indeed seems to rely on the thin connecting bridge of ‫מעשה ידים‬, I find more persuasive the exegetical stance (traditional and modern, stretching from Ibn Ezra to Kessler) that sees one coherent prophetic unit in Hag 2:10–19.61 Ibn Ezra early proposed that vv. 10–14 be considered an introductory parable for the foregoing verses;62 critical biblical scholars have likewise suggested that this passage presents “a prophetic symbolic action” (thus Kessler, among others).63 Formally, Haggai opens his prophecies in 1:1–11; 2:1–9; 2:10– 19 with an introductory unit that catches the audience’s attention. One finds in 1:2–4 a provocative quotation and its refutation; in 2:2–3, the description of the dismayed reaction to the new Temple; and similarly here in 2:10–14, this dialogue with the priests over questions of purity and defilement.64 In all three instances, ‫ ועתה‬marks the turning point from the opening unit to the promise of deliverance, or at least, improvement, close at hand (1:5; 2:4, 15).65

59 So understood by Petersen, Haggai, 83–85. Redditt finds it difficult to accept either possibility; he suggests that Haggai considered the Temple itself defiled (rather than the sanctuary and the sacrifices that were already in practice, as according to Ezra 3:1–5). Redditt, Haggai, 27. In addition, Redditt rightly refuted Ackroyd’s suggestion (Exile, 168–169) that the people are here considered defiled, on account of their moral and social sins. 60 But does the prophet in fact refer here to a non-Judean group, i. e., to the Samaritans? As has long been noted, scholars divide on this question. See Rothstein, Juden, 5–40, for a positive answer to this question; and the major refutations of this influential scholarly position by K. Koch, “Haggais unreines Volk,” ZAW 79 (1967), 52–66; and R. Pfeil, “When is a Gôy a ‘Goy’? The Interpretation of Haggai 2:10–19,” in A Tribute to Gleason Archer (ed. W. C. Kaiser and R. F. Youngblood; Chicago: Moody, 1986), 261–278. 61 This viewpoint constantly gains central position in the commentaries, see Kessler, Haggai, 205, 211–218, especially pp. 213–215 and references there. 62 See Ibn Ezra on the phrase ‫ ואשר יקריבו‬in Hag 2:14: “And this was a parable, parallel to the way Nathan spoke to David and caught him with his words and then said to him ‘you are the man,’ and he responded; and this parable is also true since they build houses for them to settle while the house of God is still ruined.” 63 Kessler adds that in their context, vv. 10–14 may be part of a ceremony, and that vv. 15–19 serve as the divine declaration of the Temple’s purification, which is to lead to the period of blessing. Kessler, Haggai, 213, 217, and 273. 64 Koch suggested a three-part structure (although he considered the authentic oral prophecies to be restricted to 1:2–8; 2:1–7, 2:10–19): (1) a report on the people’s current distress; (2) the portrayal of the current situation as a turning point between past and future; (3) a prediction of improvement in the current situation. Koch, “Haggais,” 56–60. 65 Koch, “Haggais,” 57–60; Talshir, Haggai, 162; Kessler, Haggai, 206.

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Another formal device that connects vv. 10–14 and 15–19 is the repetition of the phrase ‫מעשה ידים‬. But it is remarkable that this very phrase has distinctively different functions in the two subunits. In the first, it connects priestly ritual and legal conceptions with the notion of the people’s defilement;66 whereas in the second, it evokes the language of curse and blessing, activating Deuteronomic traditions concerning obedience to the Torah.67 It seems that the overall message of Hag 2:10–19 is built upon these two sets of legal traditions which Haggai links. In chapter 1:1–11 Haggai had already advanced the idea that transformation in the people’s economic situation would be possible only when their covenant relationship with God would be reestablished; that is, when real action was taken to rebuild God’s residence. The innovative component added in 2:10–19 is the reference to the impurity of ‫מעשה ידיהם‬. The things the people have already brought in as sacrifice are considered defiled, and this sacrificial impurity affects the status of the people themselves.68 Furthermore, by alluding to priestly conceptions of defilement in vv. 10–14, Haggai not only focuses attention on the status of the people and their products, but also evokes the conception that impurity threatens the presence of God in the land, even in the Temple itself.69 This conceptual dimension, which functions only in the background, seems to be the thematic bridge between the two very different segments of this prophetic unit.70 Hence, Haggai’s prophetic words do not remain at the level of cultic instruction.71 Haggai does not participate in ritual decision-making but accepts the ver66 See

the priestly references within Hag 2:10–14 in notes 54, 55, 57 above. phrases ‫( מעשה ידיכם‬v. 17) and ‫( אברך‬v. 19) evoke a well-known Deuteronomic construction, see Deut 2:7; 14:19; 16:15. Compare to Mason (“Prophets,” 144) who considers ‫מעשה‬ ‫ ידיהם‬to refer to the Temple. Also see the criticisms of Petersen, Haggai, 82–83, and Kessler, Haggai, 212–213. 68 Thus Kessler (Haggai, 215) accentuated the broad concept of the people’s impurity (see his thorough discussion of this unit, pp. 197–218, esp. 204–206, 210–216), where he suggested several possibilities for understanding this passage as part of the (re)foundation ceremony or even the dedication ceremony of the Temple (217–218). 69 While Kessler aptly pointed out the mutual interest in defilement that connects Haggai to Ezekiel and to what he termed, “the golah during the exile,” he nevertheless seemed not to draw conclusions from this connection regarding Haggai’s social context, i. e., by linking him to the repatriates. Kessler, Haggai, 215–216. 70 Compare to Kessler (Haggai, 212) who refuted the idea that Hag 2:10–19 raises the issue of reconstruction of the Temple a second time here (following 1:12–14). I concur with him that the issue of ethics is not at stake here, but would distinguish this from the matter of the covenant relationship, which I do think is constantly in the background together with the issue of the divine presence. 71 Carol L. and Eric M. Meyers recognized that Haggai uses “a complex priestly ruling as a vehicle for conveying his message.” C. L. and E. M. Meyers, Haggai and Zechariah 1–8 (AB 25B; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1987), 76–83. Compare to Petersen (Haggai, 73–85) who studied thoroughly the legal context of this discussion of pure and impure, yet did not recognize the special position of Haggai in distinction from the priests; on the contrary, he understood that the passage expresses Haggai’s own opinion on the ritual question, judging the sanctuary to be profane (p. 85). 67 The

50

Dalit Rom-Shiloni

dicts of the priests. Instead he issues a prophecy, using the first-person singular divine voice, in which he transforms and expands this concept of ritual impurity to advance the idea that defilement characterizes the entire national-religious standing of the people before God.72 Such differences in perspective (and at times clear tensions) between prophets and priests are well-documented already by the early 6th century. According to Jeremiah, the priests were ‫( תפשי התורה‬Jer 2:8; 18:18; and see 8:8, where the torah is connected to the ‫;)חכמים‬73 yet the prophet himself (with his own priestly background) utilizes a great variety of pentateuchal legal and literary traditions in his prophecies to his Judean contemporaries, as he reflects on and adapts the common traditional heritage to their current circumstances.74 Haggai and the other Persian-period prophets share with Jeremiah and Ezekiel this prophetic trait; that is, they indeed illustrate their prophecies by evoking pentateuchal traditions that already had authoritative status.75 But in contradistinction to the authorizing allusions in late historiography, that are connected with the phrase ‫ספר התורה‬, the prophets allude only implicitly to certain literary traditions, or specific laws and rituals, and they use them as vehicles for their own proclamations, weaving these allusions into their prophecies. In this respect Haggai follows and carries on the early 6th century prophetic tradition, which continues down to the Restoration period. Three concluding remarks are in place on this topic of allusion and inner-biblical exegesis in Persian-period prophecy: (a) It seems that we need to refine our observations and, on the one hand, allow the early 6th century prophets to take their places as the originators (or rather the developers) of the rhetorical and thematic usage of pentateuchal literary and legal traditions, a practice that continued among the Persian-period prophets.

72 This observation refutes the interpretive path that sees an internal polemic against the Samaritans in Hag 2:10–14; see Rothstein, Juden. 73 Petersen (Haggai, 73) mentions also Mic 3:11; Ezek 7:26; 22:26. 74 See a variety of examples within poetry and prose passages in Jeremiah in my earlier papers: Rom-Shiloni, “Actualization”; idem, “On the Day”; idem, “How can you say, ‘I am not defiled’” (Jer 2:20–25): Allusions to Priestly Legal Traditions in the Poetry of Jeremiah,” JBL 133/4 (2014), 757–775; idem, “Compositional Harmonization: Priestly and Deuteronomic References in Jeremiah – An Earlier Stage of a Recognized Interpretive Technique,” in The Formation of the Pentateuch: Bridging the Academic Cultures of Europe, Israel, and North America (ed. J. C. Gertz et. al.; FAT 111; Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 913–942; idem, “The Forest and the Trees: The Place of Pentateuchal Materials in Prophecy as of the Late Seventh / ​Early Sixth Centuries BCE,” in Congress Volume Stellenbosch 2016 (ed. L. C. Jonker et al.; Leiden: Brill, 2017), 56–92. 75 Authoritative status is the point of departure for this entire phenomenon of inner-biblical allusion and exegesis. See Meyers and Meyers, Haggai, 81.

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51

(b) Similarly, on the other hand, we need to rethink our notions concerning the decline of prophecy  – allusions to pentateuchal traditions are clearly not indicators of a decline.76 (c) Finally, we need to recognize here a very clear distinction between Persianperiod prophecy and the late historiographical compositions. The conceptions of torah and the utilization of biblical traditions in the two bodies of literature are distinctively different. This second case study thus demonstrates clear trajectories of development extending through the prophetic writings that emerge over the course of the 6th century, just as it delineates clear distinctions between the prophetic writings and the historiography of the Persian period.

IV. Conclusions The title of this paper, “What is ‘Persian’ in Late Sixth Century b.c.e. Prophetic Literature? – Case Studies and Criteria,” is a great topic for a monograph, but less so for a symposium paper. Thus, to briefly summarize, I would like to highlight the following points: (A) Is it “the Persian period” or rather “the prophetic tradition” that matters most for the shaping of the prophetic corpus? This study has shown that the diachronic connections between the prophetic compositions spanning the entire 6th century b.c.e. (Judah, Babylon, and then, Yehud) are stronger than the relative synchronic cross-connections between the prophetic and the historiographic compositions of Persian-period Yehud. Examples of this trend emerge out of each case study: The use of the empty land motif by the Babylonian exiles and then the repatriates is clearly a prophetic feature (going from Ezekiel to Zechariah, and including the exilic redactional layer of Jeremiah); and it stands in obvious contrast to the historiographical picture of Ezra-Nehemiah, which reinforces a dichotomy between the repatriates and the (supposedly) non-Judahite “peoples of the land.”

76 For additional explanations of the prophetic decline, see Wilson (Prophecy, 306–308), who emphasizes the sociological contexts and the rise of apocalyptic groups in the postexilic era; Petersen (Late Israelite, 6–8, 13–16) pointed out the close accord between kings and prophets, which led to their mutual decline; or Carroll who argued that prophecy simply failed in its prospects. R. P. Carroll, When Prophecy Failed: Cognitive Dissonance in the Prophetic Traditions of the Old Testament (New York: Seabury, 1979), 184–213. See Mason (“The Prophets,” 141–142), who interestingly pointed out that while prophecy had apparently failed, the late 6th century was the time when the prophetic literature was collected and edited, and when it gained its authoritative status; the very sign of that status was the allusion to, adaptation of, and actualization of earlier prophetic themes. Thus, Mason brilliantly suggests that prophecy ceased not because of its failure but due to its success (142).

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Dalit Rom-Shiloni

Likewise, lines of biblical allusion and inner-biblical exegesis provide elements of continuity between the prophets of the early 6th century and those later prophets, and these practices differ in content and emphasis from the explicit legal or ritual utilization of ‫ ספר התורה‬in late historiography. This conclusion is of high importance in freeing us from previous scholarly misconceptions concerning both the inter-literary relationships of the late biblical compositions and the reconstruction of the history of the period. These misconceptions are based, first, on reading the ideological concerns of Ezra-Nehemiah into the prophetic literature of the Persian period, and then, fairly-quickly, retrojecting these concerns to earlier prophetic texts to isolate passages that are said to participate in Persian-period internal polemics (as Carroll read Jeremiah). (B) Lines of continuity reflecting Babylonian-exilic ideologies may be drawn through the prophetic tradition. As noted, the prophetic literature of the Persian period may be understood as growing out of, transforming, adapting, and mostly adopting, earlier prophetic traditions and traits. Both Jeremiah and Ezekiel play central roles in Persian-period prophecy. The latter seems to have been the constructor of “Babylonian exilic ideology.” To an even greater extent, continuity may be observed between compositions written, edited, and preserved by exiles in Babylon (and brought back to the land by the repatriates): Ezekiel, Isa 40–48, the exilic passages and redactional levels of Jeremiah; and those written by the repatriates themselves, after the return (Isa 49–66, Haggai, Zech 1–8, prophecies and revisions added to Jeremiah and Ezekiel, other prophetic compositions within the Twelve and the entire collection, and separately, the historiographical composition of Ezra-Nehemiah).77 To my mind, the scholarly perspective on prophetic literature of the early Persian period must identify within that corpus the workings of “Babylonian exilic ideologies” – established in Babylon as early as the first decades of the 6th century b.c.e. and brought back to Persian Yehud. Over more than 150 years (from 597 b.c.e. to 432 b.c.e.) these ideologies developed and evolved to apply to the core issues of dislocation and relocation, and particularly to issues of identity (religious and national). Thus, prophetic literature should not be expected to present one unified outlook. Nevertheless, it seems that in its development of “Babylonian exilic ideologies,” the prophetic tradition charted a distinctive path that indeed has varied connections (both continuities and discontinuities) with other modes of literary composition. (C) Lively literary activity may be seen within prophetic circles over the course of the entire 6th century. The Persian period, as part of the dramatic 6th century, enjoyed this lively activity within prophetic circles. Traces of early and ongoing 77 The list is clearly partial, as the 6th century down to the early Persian period (until circa the mid-5th century b.c.e.) seems also to be the time for the final crystallization of the Pentateuch, the Former Prophets, and the historiographical compositions of Joshua to Kings.

What is “Persian” in Late Sixth Century b.c.e. Prophetic Literature?

53

prophetic writing throughout the 6th century and particularly in the early Persian period, occur to an impressive extent in the major prophetic collections of Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and the Twelve.78 Hence, the short collections of the late prophetic books of Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi, supply but a small portion of the rich prophetic writing activity of that era. One of the clear signs of this ongoing prophetic creativity is indeed the utilization of allusions and inner-biblical exegesis, which relies not only on the “former prophets,” but also on pentateuchal legal and literary traditions to help put across the prophetic message. To close this study with further observations on criteria for Persian-period compositions, I suggest the following: We should always maintain a wide-angle perspective on the entire 6th century, as major forces of continuity seem to govern the prophetic literature. The major methodology I would apply in close readings of the texts is the recognition of intertextuality – the use of allusion and exegesis – which demonstrates lines of continuity and innovation within the prophetic literature as a whole. Special attention should be given to group identity definitions and negotiations, which were central to Judean communities both in the land and in the diaspora, during the Babylonian and the Persian periods alike. All these factors guarantee that we will continue to search for “what is Persian in late prophetic literature.”

78 Petersen,

Late Israelite Prophecy, 1–53.

Jeremiah’s Relations with the “Minor Prophets” A Window into the Formation of the Book of the Twelve Georg Fischer SJ The introductory verses of prophetic books often assign dates to the respective prophets. Thus a relative sequence among them is established, allowing them to be perceived in a specific order. However, there are books like Joel, Obadiah, Nahum, Habakkuk, and Malachi, which do not offer such information at the start. Even more critical is the fact that there is a time gap between the prophets and their books. This necessitates investigation of the relationship between the prophets primarily on literary grounds. My aim is to present some findings with regard to the links between the book of Jeremiah and the corpus of the Twelve Minor Prophets. In the course of writing a commentary on the book of Jeremiah,1 I checked its connections with other biblical books and came across an interesting, unexpected result with regard to the Twelve. Some of them seem to have been sources for Jeremiah, whereas others could have picked up expressions and ideas from Jeremiah. This observation may contribute an additional standpoint from which to view the ongoing debate on the Twelve Minor Prophets and the process of their formation.2 In the following, I will present some close connections between Jeremiah and these other prophetic books, distinguishing four different cases: 1. As one might expect, Amos, Hosea, and Micah, the prophets dated to the 8th century b.c.e., form a group of their own. 2. Nahum, Habakkuk, and Zephaniah are normally assigned to the 7th century b.c.e.; they thus come from the same time as Jeremiah and offer a surprise. 3. Zechariah is set in Persian times, and therefore later than Jeremiah; this is confirmed on a literary level. 4. With regard to Obadiah, discussion is ongoing as to the direction in which the relationship with Jeremiah might be interpreted. 1 G. Fischer, Jeremia 1–25 (HThKAT; Freiburg: Herder, 2005); idem, Jeremia 26–52 ­(HThKAT; Freiburg: Herder, 2005). 2 James Nogalski, Rainer Albertz, Marvin Sweeney, Jakob Wöhrle, and E. Ben Zvi are among the prominent researchers in this field; for an overview of earlier studies see I. Willi-Plein, “Das Zwölfprophetenbuch,” ThR 64 (1999), 351–395, and for a more recent hermeneutical understanding of the Twelve cf. C. R. Seitz, Prophecy and Hermeneutics (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2007).

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Finally, I will sum up the observations and reflect on what their impact is for the debate on the formation of the Twelve Minor Prophets and dating biblical texts to the Persian period.

I. The Cases of Amos, Hosea, and Micah Generally, there is widespread agreement that the “prophets of the 8th century b.c.e.” like Amos, Hosea, and Micah, precede Jeremiah, whose career is connected with the last 40 years of the Judean monarchy (Jer 1:2f; 627–587/6 b.c.e.). The three mentioned antedate the prophet Jeremiah by approximately 100 years or more. If there are relationships between them and Jeremiah, it is to be supposed that Jeremiah draws on them in his proclamation. Since their books are products of a later time, as is also commonly acknowledged, this direction of dependence (Amos, Hosea, Micah → Jeremiah) might be reversed; nevertheless, most authors accept that the books attributed to these three prophets largely antedate that of Jeremiah (Amos, Hosea, Micah → Jeremiah).3 This means that the author4 of Jeremiah could draw on the scrolls ascribed to these three earlier colleagues. In fact, there are quite a number of observations which point in this direction. The most obvious case is Mic 3:12 being quoted in Jer 26:18, with explicit reference to its source in Micah. Although Jun-Hee Cha leaves open the question of a literary dependence based on a written version of Micah,5 scholars like Christof Hardmeier6 and Silvana Manfredi7 assume that Jeremiah uses the book of Micah in some form. There are also other instances of close relationships between the two prophets. In Mic 3:11, priests and prophets in Jerusalem say: “Is not the Lord 3 The distinction between “prophet” and “book” is relevant for this whole investigation; I do not mention it again in the later instances. 4 The question of who is responsible for the book of Jeremiah is still open to debate. Most assume several authors for it, thinking that there have been various redactions over a considerable period of time. In my view, however, Jeremiah, despite its pluriformity and diversity of texts, displays a composition and an overall message which is the product of an individual author. I do not deny that he may have used earlier and other materials; yet, Jeremiah, as we have it in the current version of the MT, shows a highly complex, but deliberate, arrangement and dynamic; for a recent treatment of the issue see G. Fischer, “A New Understanding of the Book of Jeremiah. A Response to Robert R. Wilson,” in Jeremiah’s Scriptures: Production, Reception, Interaction, and Transformation (ed. H. Najman and K. Schmid; JSJS 173; Leiden / ​Boston: Brill, 2017), 22–43, here 33–37. 5 J. ‑H. Cha, Micha und Jeremia (BBB 107; Weinheim: Beltz, 1996), 131, prefers the oral tradition even in this case. 6 C. Hardmeier, “Die Propheten Micha und Jesaja im Spiegel von Jer xxvi und 2 Regum xviii–xx,” in Congress Volume Leuven 1989 (ed. J. A. Emerton; VTS 43; Leiden: Brill, 1991, 172–189), here 183. 7 S. Manfredi, Geremia in dialogo. Nessi con le tradizioni profetiche e originalità in Ger 4, 5–6, 30 (Caltanisetta: Salvatore Sciascia, 2002), here 357.

Jeremiah’s Relations with the “Minor Prophets”

57

in the midst of us? No evil shall come upon us.”8 The last phrase is identical with Jer 5:12, and the beginning is very close to Jer 14:9. The same direction is assumed for the books of Amos and Hosea. Walter Beyerlin sees Amos’s visions as the source for Jer 1 and 24.9 Judith Pschibille points to further correspondences between Amos and Jeremiah where the latter uses the former.10 Similarly, Andreas Weider, J. Gordon McConville, Martin Schulz-Rauch, A. R. Pete Diamond / ​Kathleen O’Connor, and Richtsje Abma see Jeremiah as being dependent on Hosea, especially with regard to the marital metaphor. Hetty Lalleman-de Winkel confirms the usage of both Amos and Hosea by Jeremiah.11 We may therefore conclude: a) The studies of all of the above, and other scholars, confirm that the writings attributed to these previous prophets seem to have influenced the book of Jeremiah. b) They also allow us to perceive a kind of literary working technique that deliberately made use of earlier texts, which in German is called Schriftgelehrsamkeit. c) That Jeremiah obviously drew on various prophets is a sign that its author combined and synthesized several other expressions and positions in his book.

II. The Cases of Nahum, Habakkuk, and Zephaniah Having dealt with three prophets of the “first half” of the Twelve, we now turn to the “third quarter” of this collection, prophets “seven to nine,” who by their superscriptions or contents are connected with the 7th century and are thus contemporaries of Jeremiah. Although only Zephaniah has a dating at the beginning of the 7th century, the two other prophets also point toward the end of the Assyrian hegemony, that is, to the time when Jeremiah is said to have started his proclamation of the divine word: a) Nahum 1:1 begins with “An oracle concerning Nineveh,” and refers in the final chapter to Nineveh’s fall which occurred in 612 b.c.e. b) In Hab 1:6, God declares in his answer in the first dispute, “I am rousing the Chaldeans.” This may be connected with the victory of the Neo-Babylonian army at Carchemish in 605 b.c.e.   8 Most

translations in this article are taken from the NRSV. Reflexe der Amosvisionen im Jeremiabuch (OBO 93; Freiburg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1989). 10 J. Pschibille, Hat der Löwe erneut gebrüllt? Sprachliche, formale und inhaltliche Gemeinsamkeiten in der Verkündigung Jeremias und Amos (BThSt 41; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2001). 11 H. Lalleman-de Winkel, Jeremiah in Prophetic Tradition: An Examination of the Book of Jeremiah in the Light of Israel’s Prophetic Traditions (Leuven: Peeters, 2000).   9 W. Beyerlin,

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c) Zephaniah 1:1 begins the book with the reference to “[…] the days of Josiah, son of Amon, King of Judah.” His reign can be dated to approximately 639–609 b.c.e. Because the time span at the end of the 7th century is attributed to both Jeremiah and these prophets, we have to look for a suitable method for understanding their relationship. In my experience, a helpful technique for literary comparisons is to pay attention to “exclusive relationships,” namely phrases or expressions that occur only in two literary corpora and nowhere else. They may indicate a deliberate linking of the two texts in question. Let us view three examples: a) The last verse of the book of Nahum (Nah 3:19) begins with: ‫אין־כהה לשברך נחלה מכתך‬ “There is no assuaging your hurt, your wound is grievous […]”

The second poem of the scroll of consolation (Jer 30–31) starts after the introduction formula with: ‫“ אנוש מכתך נחלה לשברך‬Your hurt is incurable, and your wound is grievous” (Jer 30:12). Three words in sequence are completely identical with regard to the consonants,12 and they are not encountered elsewhere in the Bible. The combination is thus specific to these two texts, and one might therefore consider a connection between Nahum and Jeremiah. Nahum deals with the fate of Nineveh, Jeremiah with Zion’s suffering.13

In Nahum this statement comes at the end of a long description of Nineveh’s downfall, and thus is suitably inserted into the context. In Jeremiah, on the contrary, this phrase opens a new unit and comes as a surprise, in a three-fold sense: It starts a new poem within the scroll of consolation; it is not clear who is addressed by the 2nd person feminine singular; and after the salvation alluded to in the previous verses (Jer 30:10–11) we do not know what “hurt and wound” refer to. These are some of the indicators which seem to suggest that Jeremiah could have used Nahum’s phrase and applied a description of Nineveh’s destruction to Jerusalem. b) The center of Habakkuk is formed by five woe-oracles. The one in the middle condemns whoever “builds a town with blood, and founds a city on iniquity” (Hab 2:12). The next verse, 2:13, says: ‫הלוא הנה מאת יהוה צבאות וייגעו עמים בדי־אש ולאמים בדי־ריק יעפו‬ “Behold, is it not from the Lord of hosts that people labour only for fire, and nations weary themselves for nought?” 12 There is a difference in the vocalization: Nahum has masculine suffixes and Jeremiah feminine ones. 13 The last line of this second poem (Jer 30:17) indicates the identification with Zion.

59

Jeremiah’s Relations with the “Minor Prophets”

Quite similar to this is the very end of the oracles against Babylon in Jer 50–51. The last verse, 51:58, is introduced by: “Thus says the Lord of hosts: […],” and the last line14 of his speech reads: ‫ויגעו עמים בדי־ריק ולאמים בדי־אש ויעפו‬ “The peoples labour for nought, and the nations weary themselves only for fire.”15

The two sayings are very close. No other text can compare with them in this regard. This makes it probable that one of them has been written making use of the other. The inversion of the words “fire” and “nought,” a technique often to be observed with quotations, may also point in this direction. Habakkuk continues with a positive outlook,16 whereas in Jeremiah this is God’s final commentary on Babylon’s fate, confirmed by the following symbolic act of sinking a scroll into the river Euphrates (Jer 51:59–64). In Jeremiah, the phrase is more complicated, as it sets apart the last word; thus the verse should correctly be translated: “The peoples labor for nought, and the nations for fire, and they weary themselves.” This rendering lays more stress on the futility of all the peoples’ actions. The reversal of “nought / ​fire,” with “fire” occurring in the final position in Jeremiah, lays additional weight on the destruction. In the opinion of Luis Alonso-Schökel,17 Gunther Wanke,18 and myself,19 Jeremiah is dependent on Habakkuk and uses the quote from Habakkuk as a fitting conclusion to the oracles against Babylon, demonstrating how delusional are all human efforts to gain power, glory, and/or wealth. c) The connections of Jeremiah with Zephaniah are not as strong as with the two aforementioned prophets. However, there is one exclusive relationship, in the exclamation of Zeph 2:15: ‫איך היתה לשמה‬ “What a desolation she has become […]!”

14 The immediately preceding line in v. 58 has “[…] and her high gates shall be burned with fire.” 15 I have left this translation of the NRSV, although it is not exact, because of the correspondence with Hab 2:12; for the precise wording see below. 16 Verse 14 mentions “the knowledge of the glory of the Lord” filling the earth. 17 L. Alonso-Schökel and J. Sicre Diaz, Profetas. Introducciones y comentario, I. Isaias. Jeremias (NBE; Madrid: Ediciones Cristiandad, 1980), 650. 18 G. Wanke, Jeremia. Teilband 2: Jeremia 25,15–52,34 (ZBK 20.2; Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 2003), 460. 19 Fischer, Jeremia 26–52, 625–626; also G. Fischer, Jeremia: der Stand der theologischen Diskussion (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2007), 26–27 and 141. The correspondence of Jer 51:58 with Hab 2:13 is also an excellent example for the comparison of the Masoretic Text with the Septuagint version of Jeremiah.

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In Jeremiah this phrase can be found twice, each time applied to Babylon: ‫איך היתה לשמה‬ “What a desolation she has become […]!”(Jer 50:23; 51:41).

20

Zephaniah’s saying is directed against Nineveh, mentioned in v.13 together with Assur. It could be that, similarly to Nah 3:19 where an expression regarding the Assyrian capital is applied to Jerusalem, here it is transferred to the other Mesopotamian capital. This exclusive link between Zephaniah and Jeremiah is short and not as specific as the two previous cases and it is therefore difficult to come to a sure conclusion as to the direction of dependence. Nevertheless, the sequence in time, namely that Nineveh’s fall is earlier than that of Babylon, could point to Jeremiah picking up the exclamation from Zephaniah. This procedure occurs quite often in Jeremiah.21

The above texts show that Jeremiah and the “third quarter” of the Twelve Minor Prophets are interrelated. Moreover, the considerations about a possible dependence give the impression that Jeremiah draws on Nahum, Habakkuk, and, probably, also Zephaniah. The reuse of earlier sayings in Jeremiah, now applied to Babylon’s downfall instead of Nineveh’s ruin, points to a later time, presumably the Persian period, as background for Jeremiah.

III. The Other Way Round: Zechariah In the last quarter of the Twelve, Zechariah is not only the longest book; it also displays a large number of close links with Jeremiah. This has been investigated by several scholars, among them Konrad Schaefer,22 Risto Nurmela,23 and Eibert Tigchelaar.24 They unanimously conclude that Zechariah picks up ideas and expressions from Jeremiah. This would mean that Zechariah, in its entirety, is later than the book of Jeremiah, and, to some extent, reverses it. Whereas Jeremiah, throughout many chapters and in the development towards the end of the book, 20 Ps

73:19 is very close, but uses the verb in the plural.

21 There are other cases where Jeremiah seems to apply sayings borrowed from elsewhere in a

new way, e. g., in Jer 6 expressions taken from Judg 19–20 (against Gibeah) and Amos 3 (against Samaria) now refer to Jerusalem. 22 K. R. Schaefer, “Zechariah 14: A Study in Allusion,” CBQ 57 (1995), 66–91. Schaefer concentrated his investigation on the final chapter Zech 14. 23 R. Nurmela, Prophets in Dialogue: Inner-biblical Allusions in Zechariah 1–8 and 9–14 (Åbo: Åbo Akademis Förlag, 1996). Nurmela shows connections with the whole book of Zechariah. 24 E. Tigchelaar, “Some Observations on the Relationship between Zechariah 9–11 and Jeremiah,” in Bringing out the Treasure. Inner Biblical Allusion in Zechariah 9–14 (ed. M. J. Boda and M. H. Floyd; JSOTS 370; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003), 260–270. Tigchelaar’s focus is on the connections between Jer 23:1–8; 30–31, and Zechariah, especially chapter 10.

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is full of Jerusalem’s downfall and destruction, Zechariah describes positively the new role of Judah’s capital. Exclusive relationships between Jeremiah and Zechariah are, e. g., ‫גאון הירדן‬ “the jungle of the Jordan” (Jer 12:5; 49:19; 50:44; Zech 11:3), ‫“ ארץ צפון‬the land of the North” (Jer 3:18; 6:22, seven times in Jeremiah; Zech 2:10; 6:6, 8 [twice]). The change in God’s attitude towards his people, as described in Jer 31:28 and Zech 8:14–15, also shows a strong connection between the books. Although these expressions are either very short or, in the latter case, the correspondence is not very precise, it is in my opinion very probable that the author(s) of Zechariah used motifs and ideas from Jeremiah to communicate his / ​ their message.25 Zechariah thus succeeds in overcoming the negative portrayal of Jerusalem in Jeremiah. By using the same terms and similar ideas as Jeremiah, but in a new context and direction, he manages to go further than the book attributed to his prophetic predecessor.

IV. A Disputed Case: Obadiah James Nogalski has investigated thoroughly the connections of Jeremiah with Obadiah and has arrived at the conclusion that the latter takes up the former.26 In fact, the similarities between Obad 1–9 and Jer 49:7–16 are so many and so close that we have to assume a redactional process. One key for Nogalski seeing Obadiah as dependent on Jeremiah is ‫“ עליה‬upon her” in Obad 1:1. For Nogalski, “her” has no reference, whereas the corresponding verse in Jer 49:14 can easily refer to the earlier usage of the feminine singular, e. g., in v. 13 “her cities.” Yet, “her” in v. 1 of Obadiah can be understood as referring to “Edom,” mentioned in the introduction before. And even if one does not want to accept this, the surprising use of the feminine singular at the beginning of an oracle was also present in the scroll of consolation – for this see above (II, a) 25 For further links between Zechariah and Jeremiah see the discussion in P. L. Redditt, “Zechariah 9–14: The Capstone on the Book of the Twelve,” in Bringing out the Treasure. Inner Biblical Allusion in Zechariah 9–14 (ed. M. J. Boda and M. H. Floyd; JSOTSup 370; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003), 305–332, here 308–312. R. Mason, “The Use of Earlier Biblical Material in Zechariah 9–14: A Study in Inner Biblical Exegesis,” in Bringing out the Treasure. Inner Biblical Allusion in Zechariah 9–14 (ed. M. J. Boda and M. H. Floyd; JSOTSup 370; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003), 1–208, here 204, perceives a “continuity of tradition” between First and Second Zechariah. The various parts of Zechariah seem to handle their sources in a very similar way. 26 J. D. Nogalski, Redactional Processes in the Book of the Twelve (BZAW 218; Berlin / ​New York: de Gruyter, 1993), 58–73, and, more recently, idem, “Not Just another Nation: Obadiah’s Placement in the Book of the Twelve,” in Perspectives on the Formation of the Book of the Twelve: Methodological Foundations – Redactional Processes – Historical Insights (ed. R. Albertz et al.; BZAW 433; Berlin / ​Boston: de Gruyter 2012), 69–107, here 93–95.

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the possible quote of Nah 3:19 in Jer 30:12. This could be a means to attract the attention of the addressees. Birgit Hartberger27 and Theodor Lescow28 arrive at the opposite conclusion in their studies. For them, Obadiah is prior to Jeremiah, and Jeremiah uses it as a source text. In my opinion, too, a deliberate reworking and reshuffling29 on the part of Jeremiah gives a more plausible explanation for the literary differences and variations between Obadiah and Jeremiah. Furthermore, the women who are said to scorn and mock King Zedekiah in Jer 38:22 seem to take up Obad 7, with “your trusted friends,” literally “the men of your peace” (‫)אנׁשי ׁשלמך‬, forming an exclusive link between the two passages.

V. Conclusions The books of the twelve minor prophets dealt with above provide instances where the investigation seems, with the exception of Obadiah, to arrive at results which are quite probable. We find two directions of dependence. Mostly Jeremiah draws on other prophetic books, starting with Hosea, and up to Zephaniah. On the other hand, Zechariah picks up expressions and motifs from Jeremiah. Four books of the Twelve have not been treated, for specific reasons. In the cases of Joel and Jonah, most of the connections with Jeremiah are not clear, so that it is difficult to decide in which direction,30 if at all, a redactional process might have gone. In the books of Haggai and Malachi, the links with Jeremiah are so slight that it is hard to arrive at firm conclusions, so I have omitted them from the considerations here. However, they do merit investigation and seem to point in the direction of being dependent on Jeremiah,31 in a similar way as could be observed with Zechariah. 27 B. Hartberger, “An den Wassern von Babylon …” Psalm 137 auf dem Hintergrund von Jeremia 51, der biblischen Edom-Traditionen und babylonischer Originalquellen (BBB 63; Frankfurt am Main: Hanstein, 1986), 182–183 and 201–203. 28 T. Lescow, “Die Komposition des Buches Obadja,” ZAW 111 (1999), 380–398. 29 Obad 5 → Jer 49:9; Obad 1–4 → Jer 49:14–16; for the details cf. G. Fischer, Jeremia 26–52, 542–546. 30 Recently P. Weimar, Jona (HThKAT; Freiburg: Herder, 2017), 325–328, has suggested, in an excursus, that Jonah 3 might be seen as contrasting Jer 36 (“gegenbildlich”). He also points to the expressions “everybody turns back from his evil way” and ‫“ מי־יודע‬who knows / ​maybe …” in Jonah 3:8–9, as possibly alluding to Jer 18:11; 25:5; 26:3; 35:15; 36:3, 7, and to Jer 26:3, respectively (pp. 342 and 349). Whereas the first phrase establishes an “exclusive relationship” between Jeremiah and Jonah and thus forms a strong bond, the latter often occurs also elsewhere. The contrastive use in Jonah as a parody makes more sense if it were derived from Jeremiah, rather than the other way round. 31 The main connections are: Hag 2:23 uses “signet ring” for Zerubbabel, possibly taking up Jer 22:24 where this expression is applied to King Jehoiachin, cf. M. Leuenberger, Haggai (HThKAT; Freiburg: Herder, 2015, 248f). For R. Kessler, Maleachi (HThKAT; Freiburg:

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For this paper I have not addressed the possibility of a longer-lasting process of formation of these prophetic books, with the exception of the short remarks in n. 4. I am aware of this option, but have not yet encountered observations that would generally undermine the results achieved above. If we try to form an overall picture of the various relationships of Jeremiah with the twelve so-called “Minor Prophets,” it clearly posits the writing of the book of Jeremiah somewhere in the second half or maybe even towards the end of the development of the Twelve. Whereas most of these prophetic books, at least six of them, have inspired the author of Jeremiah, Zechariah, and possibly also Jonah, Haggai, and Malachi, seem to have known of Jeremiah. In the reverse perspective, we may gaze, as through a window, into the process of formation of the twelve minor prophets, and perceive their evolution as occurring in various stages: an early stage, already quite developed, serving as source for Jeremiah, and a later one,32 which uses Jeremiah for its inspiration. For the book of Jeremiah itself, the relationship with the books of the Twelve provides some clues which may contribute to resolving the problem of its time setting. Jeremiah makes abundant use of Amos, Hosea, and Micah, the latter even for the legitimation of the prophet Jeremiah in Jer 26:18. Jeremiah applies sayings on Nineveh, taken from Nahum and Zephaniah, to the downfall of Babylon that occurred in 539 b.c.e., and picks up Obadiah to put emphasis on Edom’s ruin. On the other hand, at a later stage, Zechariah reuses Jeremiah for describing Jerusalem’s new, positive role. To my mind, these observations clearly point to the Persian period, both for the composition of Jeremiah and for the development of the Twelve. The study of the links between Jeremiah and the various books of the Twelve allows us a glimpse into their formation process, suggesting the existence of at least half of them prior to the writing of Jeremiah, probably in the 4th century b.c.e.33 At the same time, a continuing process in the composition of the Twelve becomes apparent, which shows that some of the books were still being written and were thus able to draw on Jeremiah.

Herder, 2011), 63, the Edom oracle in Jer 49:13–22 serves, among other texts, as background for the first disputation in Mal 1:2–5. 32 The use of the singulars “early stage” and “a later one” does not exclude the possibility of various phases in both cases, to the contrary: Most probably their growth as individual books and later on towards what we now call the “Twelve Minor Prophets” has been a very complicated process, involving a considerable amount of time, as the studies of Nogalski, Wöhrle, and many others have shown. 33 Jeremiah’s use of the entire Torah, all the Former Prophets and several of the Latter Prophets as sources does not allow us to assume an earlier dating of the book: Fischer, Jeremia 1–25, 73f and 120. I am grateful to Mrs. Felicity Stephens for the correction of the English of this article.

Dating Zechariah 1–8 The Evidence in Favour of and against Understanding Zechariah 3 and 4 as Sixth Century Texts Lena-Sofia Tiemeyer This article will explore the criteria employed for dating texts to different parts of the Persian period, using Zech 3 and 4 as a test case. Zechariah scholarship is divided between those who date the entire text of Zech 1–8 to the 6th century b.c.e. and those who date only a kernel to that time period while assigning later textual strata to the 5th or even the 4th century b.c.e.1 The reasons behind this divide are many. In the present paper, I shall focus on dating criteria related to texts which contain names of historical figures.

I. The Value of Historical Figures for Historical Reconstructions Many biblical texts mention historical figures. This would make the case of dating seemingly easy, yet this is not necessarily so. First of all, we have to distinguish between texts that address a historical figure directly in the second person, and those that refer to him/her in the third person. In the latter case, a mere reference to a person neither ascertains the historicity of that person nor functions as an indicator of the date of the text in question. After all, any text of any age can refer to a historical character. The material in 1–2 Kings, for example, may refer to historical characters but this in itself provides no information of the dating of the Deuteronomistic History. Secondly, a historical figure may function as a symbol and thus may not denote the historical person bearing the name. The name “David” is a case in point. Not every biblical text that refers to “David” should be understood as speaking about the historical person who (presumably) lived in the 10th century b.c.e.2 Instead, many texts employ the name “David” as a symbol of certain qualities. In Ezek 1 For a survey of scholarship, see L.-S. Tiemeyer, Zechariah’s Vision Report and Its Earliest Interpreters: A Redaction-critical Study of Zechariah 1–8 (LHBOTS 626; London / ​New York: T & T Clark, 2016). 2 This paper does not enter into the debate concerning the existence or non-existence of King David. In large brushstrokes, I follow the opinion of A. Mazar, “The Search for David and Solomon: An Archaeological Perspective,” in The Quest for the Historical Israel: Debating

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34:23, for example, the expression “my servant David” stands for a good leader, in contrast to the contemporaneous bad ones. Likewise, it is on the whole unlikely that the reference to the “son of David, king in Jerusalem” in Qoh 1:1 should be understood as a reference to the historical character of Solomon.3 At the same time, most other Israelite and Judahite kings have not become symbols. References to them can thus be treated as references to the historical persons. When, for instance, a biblical account speaks about the Israelite kings Omri, Ahab, and Menahem, or the Judahite king Hezekiah, we may assume that it refers to these men and not to other people who are likened to them. In the abovementioned cases, our assumption is strengthened by the fact that the historical existence of these monarchs is validated by non-biblical textual evidence. King Omri appears on the Mesha stone,4 King Ahab is mentioned in the annals of Shalmanezer III’s campaign to the West as evidenced by the Kurkh monolith,5 King Menahem is referred to in the annals of Tiglath-Pileser III,6 and King Hezekiah features in Sennacherib’s account of the Neo-Assyrian invasion of Judah as written on the Taylor Prism.7 Looking more specifically at prophetic texts, it is often assumed that if an oracle refers to a historical character in the second person, such a reference testifies to the date of the oracle (although not to the date of the final form of the text). The most famous examples must be the (anonymous yet unmistakable) reference to Cyrus in Isa 41:2–4 and the explicit reference to him in Isa 45:1–3. It is generally assumed that these references, together with the fact that the texts of Isa 40–55 never refer to the fall of the Neo-Babylonian Empire, can be used to date Isa 40–55, either in part or as a whole, to the late Neo-Babylonian period right before 539 b.c.e.8 In this case, the references to Cyrus function as a terminus post quem for the passages in which they appear; what is less clear is whether the passages can serve also as a criterion for a specific 6th century b.c.e. dating. Klaus Baltzer has notably argued that while these verses refer to the historical 6th century monarch, Archaeology and the History of Early Israel (ed. B. B. Schmidt; SBL Archaeology and Biblical Studies 17; Atlanta: SBL, 2007), 117–139. 3 For the sake of the argument in the present article, it is assumed that King Solomon is a historical character. For supporting secondary literature, see A. Mazar, “The Search.” 4 See K. A. D. Smelik, “The Inscription of King Mesha,” in COS, Vol. 2 (ed. W. W. Hallo and K. L. Younger, Jr.; Leiden / ​Boston: Brill, 2003), 137–138. 5 See K. L. Younger, Jr., “Kurkh Monolith,” in COS, Vol. 2 (ed. W. W. Hallo and K. L. Younger, Jr.; Leiden / ​Boston: Brill, 2003), 261–264. 6 See K. L. Younger, Jr., “The Calaḫ Annals,” in COS, Vol. 2 (ed. W. W. Hallo and K. L. Younger, Jr.; Leiden / ​Boston: Brill, 2003), 284–286. 7 See M. Cogan, “Sennacherib’s Siege of Jerusalem,” in COS, Vol. 2 (ed. W. W. Hallo and K. L. Younger, Jr.; Leiden / ​Boston: Brill, 2003), 302–303. 8 See, e. g., S. M. Paul, Isaiah 40–66: Text and Commentary (ECC; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans: 2012), 12–14. See also the brief discussion in J. L. Koole, Isaiah III, Volume 1: Isaiah 40–48 (trans. A. P. Runia; HCOT; Kampen: Kok Pharos, 1997), 13.

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their date of composition is later. The author of Isa 41:2–4 and 45:1–3 utilized the character of Cyrus as the means to criticize the Persians: Yhwh rather than Cyrus is the true king and ruler of the world.9 In short, while Baltzer assumes that the Isaianic texts speak of the historical ruler Cyrus, the statements are about him rather than addressed to him and they focus on what God has done through him (in the past).10 Many scholars would likewise argue that the references to Jeroboam (II), king of Israel, in Amos 7:10 (cf. also the superscription in Amos 1:1) can shed light on the date of the material in Amos 7:10–17.11 Along similar lines, other exegetes use the reference to the death of King Uzziah in Isa 6:1 as the starting point for dating the earliest material in the book of Isaiah.12 As in the case of Isa 40–55, this manner of dating texts has recently come under scrutiny. Jason Radine, for example, argues that the conflict between the prophet Amos and the priest Amaziah is not a historical event; instead the narrative in Amos 7:10–17 is a post-monarchic polemic story that reflects the changing status of prophets and priests in early Yehud.13 The priest Amaziah is a symbol that expresses a particular priestly view of prophets. Furthermore, although Jereboam (II) is a historical character, the reference to him merely serves to situate the (fictional) narrative in Amos 7:10–17 in a particular historical context. It does not hint at the date of composition of the text. Likewise, Alexander Prokhorov has questioned the customary 8th century dating of Isaiah’s so-called Denkschrift (Isa 6:1–9:6) and argues instead in favour of understanding it as a post-monarchic narrative which deals with socio-cultural matters in Yehud. Thus, the references to the kings of Judah, although being real historical characters, give no information about the date of the composition of the Denkschrift.14 This is neither the time nor the place to determine the composition history of the books of Hosea and Isaiah. Nevertheless, this discussion demonstrates well the difficulties associated with using references to historical figures as the means of dating a text. In the present article, I shall focus my investigation more specifically on whether the references to Zerubbabel and Joshua in Zech 3 and 4 can be used as confident indicators of a 6th century b.c.e. date of those two chapters.

  9 K. Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah (trans. M. Kohl; Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2001), 31–32. 10 Baltzer, Isaiah, 88–89, 212, 219–220. 11 See, e. g., S. M. Paul, Amos (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991), 1. From a very different angle, see T. S. Hadjiev, The Composition and Redaction of the Book of Amos (BZAW 393; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2009), 78–95. 12 See, e. g., J. Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 1–39 (AB 19; New York: Doubleday, 2000), 99. 13 J. Radine, The Book of Amos in Emergent Judah (FAT II/45; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 183–197. 14 A. Prokhorov, The Isaianic Denkschrift and a Socio-Cultural Crisis in Yehud: A Rereading of Isaiah 6:1–9:6[7] (FRLANT 261; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015).

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The question boils down to whether these two names denote historical figures or whether they are symbols of secular and religious leadership.

II. Does the Prophetic Literature Contain Historical Data? This issue is tied to the wider question of the value of the prophetic literature for historical reconstructions. Brad E. Kelle’s and Megan Bishop Moore’s edited volume, Israel’s Prophets and Israel’s Past, provides some helpful guidelines. In his article, Kelle argues that the presentations in the Hebrew Bible of the Israelite prophets bring Greek political orators to mind. As the latter were involved in the politics of their time so by analogy we should expect the Israelite prophets’ speeches to have shaped and probably also distorted the political events that they were referring to for the sake of persuading their audience of a particular view point. “While their persuasive goals certainly shape […] their depictions, and one should guard against the simple acceptance of a speech’s rhetorical situation […] a speech’s constructed rhetorical situation must have borne significant continuity with the original circumstance for the sake of credibility.”15 In the same volume, Ehud Ben Zvi explores different types of reconstructions of the past within the prophetic literature. He notes the existence of two, largely opposite, tendencies. Most texts betray a conscious tendency to de-historicize their writing for the didactic purpose of conveying eternal truths about the relationship between Yhwh and Israel. Only a few cases, notably Haggai and Zech 1–8, present themselves as anchored firmly in defined historical circumstances. In these books, the dating formulas serve to historicize the text. According to Ben Zvi, this deviation from the norm is connected to the central concern of Haggai and Zech 1–8, namely the rebuilding of the temple and, more indirectly, its legitimacy. Thus, in contrast to the other material in the Book of the Twelve, Haggai and Zech 1–8 describe “attitudes and godly utterances associated with a very narrow but crucial period.”16 Evaluating these two claims, we may conclude that it is reasonable to assume that the prophetic oracles, both individually and in their final collected book form, were aimed at specific historical situations and addressed specific historical 15 B. E. Kelle, “Ancient Israelite Prophets and Greek Political Orators: Analogies for the Prophets and Their Implication s for Historical Reconstructions,” in Israel’s Prophets and Israel’s Past: Essays on the Relationship of Prophetic Texts and Israelite History in Honor of John H. Hayes (ed. B. E. Kelle and M. B. Moore; LHBOTS 446; London / ​New York: T & T Clark, 2006), 57–82, here 78–80. 16 E. Ben Zvi, “De-Historicizing and Historicizing Tendencies in the Twelve Prophetic Books: A Case Study of the Heuristic Value of a Historically Anchored Systemic Approach to the Corpus of Prophetic Literature,” in Israel’s Prophets and Israel’s Past: Essays on the Relationship of Prophetic Texts and Israelite History in Honor of John H. Hayes (ed. B. E. Kelle and M. B. Moore; LHBOTS 446; London / ​New York: T & T Clark, 2006), 37–56, here 52.

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questions that were of interest to the intended, historical, audience. Moreover, we may also assume that the prophets were not dispassionate onlookers but actively sought to shape the social and political agenda of their society. At the same time, the surface meaning of a given text may not be identical with its deeper message that only its intended audience would hear clearly.17 We thus have to bear in mind that a reference to a historical person may carry a hidden meaning that we may or may not be able to pick up. It is furthermore notable that the material about Zerubbabel and Joshua in Haggai and Zech 1–8, through their overt attempt to situate the oracles in a specific historical situation, combined with the relatively narrow focus on the rebuilding and the government of the temple, stand out from among the rest of the prophetic literature.

III. Zerubbabel and Joshua in Zechariah 3, 4, and 6 Turning to Zech 3 and 4, the name Joshua appears in Zech 3 and 6:9–15 and the name Zerubbabel is attested in the oracular material in Zech 4:6aβ–10a. It is furthermore likely that the appellation “the Branch” (‫ )צמח‬in 6:12 refers to Zerubbabel. The question here is two-fold. First, did the various textual strands in Zech 3 and 4 – in their original form – address issues in the last quarter of the 6th century b.c.e. as implied by the dating formula in Zech 1:7, or were they aimed at later situations?18 Secondly, and interconnected with the first question, do the figures Joshua and Zerubbabel / ​the Branch denote the historical characters carrying those names or are they symbols – political and/or eschatological – for the High Priest and the Davidic heir? A. Do Zechariah 3 and 4 Address Issues in the Last Quarter of the 6th Century B. C. E.? Bob Becking emphasizes the enigmatic character of those biblical texts that relate to the building of the temple, as well as the problem of fitting the inner chronology of Ezra 3–6 with the outer chronology of the Persian chronicles. In his view, we cannot draw any historical conclusions from the list of returnees in Ezra 2 / ​Neh 7, as it (only) serves to specify who was a member of the Bürger Tempel Gemeinde 17 Cf. the discussion in C. A. Strine, Sworn Enemies: The Divine Oath, The Book of Ezekiel, and the Polemic of Exile (BZAW 436; Berlin / ​Boston: de Gruyter, 2012), who speaks about the hidden transcript of a text and thus differentiates between the surface meaning of a text and its hidden agenda. 18 The present discussion is limited to the function of the different textual components at their time of composition: the visionary material in Zech 3:1–5, the oracular material in Zech 3:6–10, the visionary material in Zech 4:1–6aα, 10b–14, and the oracular material in Zech 4:6aβ–10a. It does not explore the role of these two chapters in the later book of Zechariah and in the even later book of the Twelve.

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up and until 458/7 b.c.e. Becking further argues that the dating formulas in Haggai and Zech 1–8, to which the prophetic activities of Haggai and Zechariah are anchored, are influenced by Ezra 3–6. It is thus unclear to what extent – or if at all – these passages can be used for reconstructing the early history of Yehud. For instance, this uncertainty can potentially demolish the common view of Zerubbabel as the major politician who paved the way for the rebuilding of the temple, as it is based on the references to Zerubbabel in Hag 1–2 (Hag 1:1, 14; 2:3, 22) and Ezra 1–6.19 Nevertheless Becking ultimately concedes that Zech 3 and 4 “are not completely without significance for the historian”; the vision report gives the impression “that Zerubbabel was a real-time character.”20 From a different perspective, Diana Edelman argues that the temple was only built in the 5th century b.c.e. during the reign of Artaxerxes I.21 On the basis of the genealogical lists in Chronicles and Ezra-Nehemiah, Edelman maintains that Zerubbabel and Nehemiah were roughly contemporaries. It further makes historical sense, so Edelman, to date their activities in close proximity to one another: to rebuild the temple and to fortify the city walls are ideally done at the same time. It follows that either Zerubbabel – with his temple rebuilding – needs to be moved to the reign of Artaxerxes I, or Nehemiah – with his city walls rebuilding – needs to be moved to the reign of Darius I.22 According to Edelman, the former happened. Although the prophecies of Haggai and Zechariah did indeed bolster the rebuilding of the temple (and thus stem from the 5th century), the editor of Haggai and Zechariah deliberately dated their prophecies to the reign of Darius I, “in order to demonstrate that Yahweh’s seventy-year anger against his land and people had ended” (along the lines of Jer 25:10–11; 29:10).23 This editor, according to Edelman, probably lived in the early Hellenistic period (ca. 300 b.c.e.).24 Finally, as Becking, Edelman does not assign any historic reliability to the material in Ezra 1–6.25 This position has, however, been aptly criticized. Both Mark Boda and Ralph Klein point out that Edelman’s reliance upon and use of the genealogical lists in Chronicles and Ezra-Nehemiah is questionable. Edelman’s claim that Zerubbabel 19 According to the latter narrative, Zerubbabel belonged to the first waves of returnees (Ezra 2:2) and he served as a Persian governor under Darius (I or II) (Ezra 3:2, 8; 5:2). 20 B. Becking, “Zerubbabel, Zechariah 3–4, and Post-Exilic History,” in Israel’s Prophets and Israel’s Past: Essays on the Relationship of Prophetic Texts and Israelite History in Honor of John H. Hayes (ed. B. E. Kelle and M. B. Moore; LHBOTS 446; London / ​New York: T & T Clark, 2006), 268–279, here 279. 21 D. Edelman, The Origins of the ‘Second’ Temple: Persian Imperial Policy and the Rebuilding of the Jerusalem Temple (Bibleworld; London: Equinox, 2005), here 349. 22 Edelman, The Origins, 13–79 (summary on pp. 75–76). 23 Edelman, The Origins, 80–82, 90–95, 105–106. The dates in Haggai and Zech 1–8 “resulted from an earnest desire by the editor to demonstrate that Jeremiah’s prophecies had been actualized in history” (144). 24 Edelman, The Origins, 146. 25 Edelman, The Origins, 151–208.

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and Nehemiah were contemporaries is based on her emendations of the pertinent chronologies. A comparative study of the various high priestly chronologies (2 Kgs 25:18–21; 1 Chr 5:40–41; Hag 1:1; Neh 3; 12; 13) speaks against dating Joshua to the middle of the 5th century b.c.e. Likewise, a close study of Zerubbabel’s genealogy in 1 Chr 3:16–19 reveals that he would have been 108 years old by the time of Artaxerxes. To cite Boda’s concluding remarks, Edelman’s theory is “built on questionable treatments of genealogical lists and unsubstantiated links between various figures in the early Persian period.”26 Edelman’s attack of the authenticity of the dates in Haggai and Zech 1–8 is likewise unconvincing. The temporal gap between the fall of the temple in 586 b.c.e. and the date in Zech 1 to 520 b.c.e. is not exactly 70 years. If these dates were a figment of imagination, a more exact fit could have been expected, as well as a strong sense of consistency in the various dating formulas.27 I concur with Boda’s and Klein’s critique. Furthermore, it is in my view likely that the dates in Ezra 1–6 depend on the dates in Haggai and Zech 1–8 rather than vice versa.28 I shall thus uphold the traditional view that the temple was rebuilt in the last quarter of the 6th century b.c.e. Although the material in Ezra 1–6 is clearly a later reconstruction of the events and probably depends on the material in Haggai and Zech 1–8, there are few good reasons to doubt its basic historicity. B. Do the Figures Joshua and Zerubbabel / ​the Branch in Zechariah 3, 4, and 6 Denote Historical Characters? Turning to the interpretations of Zech 3 and 4, the majority of scholars maintain that Zerubbabel in the oracular material in Zech 4:6aβ–10a in all likelihood denotes the historical person bearing that name and that the composition stems from the 6th century b.c.e. Ina Willi-Plein, for example, argues that no other than the 6th century seer Zechariah would have dared to argue that the fifth vision (Zech 4) actually spoke about Zerubbabel. The seer identified one of the two trees in Zech 4:14 with Zerubbabel, based on his contemporary experiences

26 M. J. Boda, “Review of D. Edelman, The Origins of the ‘Second’ Temple: Persian Imperial Policy and the Rebuilding of the Jerusalem Temple,” JHebS 7 (2007), http://www.jhsonline.org/ reviews/reviews_new/review268.htm; R. W. Klein, “Were Joshua, Zerubbabel, and Nehemiah Contemporaries? A Response to Diana Edelman’s Proposed Late Date for the Second Temple,” JBL 127 (2008), 697–701. 27 Boda, “Review.” 28 See further S. Japhet, “Sheshbazzar and Zerubbabel  – Against the Background of the Historical and Religious Tendencies of Ezra-Nehemiah, I,” ZAW 94 (1982), 66–98, here 79, 88–89, 93–94. See also H. G. M. Williamson, “The Composition of Ezra I–IV,” JTS n.s. 34 (1983), 1–30, here 20, who argues that the historian who compiled Ezra 1–6 based his account on primary documents as well as on the available material in Haggai and Zechariah.

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of the governor as the builder of the temple.29 Jakob Wöhrle is also open to the possibility that the material about Zerubbabel in Zechariah (Zech 4:6a–9a, 10a; 6:9–13*; 7:2–6; 8:18–19a) was added relatively shortly after the vision report was written and offers reflections on issues pertaining to the early post-monarchic period (the temple building, hopes centred on Zerubbabel, and fasting), although he ultimately argues against Zecharian authorship.30 Other scholars date Zech 4:6aβ–10a to later periods. Heinz-Gunther Schöttler, for example, suggests that the oracles about Zerubbabel in 4:6aβ–10a were composed in the middle of the 5th century b.c.e.31 He postulates two main revisions of Zech 1–6 whereby the vision report is updated in order to address new issues relevant to the editors. In the particular case of Zech 4:6aβ–10a, Schöttler begins by claiming that the connection between v. 6b (“‘Not by might, nor by power, but by my spirit,’ said the Lord of Hosts.”) and v. 7, which speaks to a great mountain before Zerubbabel, is secondary. While v. 6b does not speak about the temple, vv. 7a and 10a do. The oracles in vv. 7a, 10a, as well as the even later oracle in vv. 8–9, are thus later “corrections” of the original text in v. 6b.32 Schöttler continues by postulating that v. 6b belongs to the first revision of the vision reports, stemming from around 515 b.c.e., according to which God alone will act.33 In contrast, the material in vv. 6aβ, 7–10a belongs to the second revision from the 5th century b.c.e. This edition added the character of Zerubbabel in his role as temple builder.34 Martin Hallaschka likewise envisages a gradual development of Zech 4. In contrast to Schöttler, however, Hallaschka does not date any part of Zech 4 to 519 b.c.e., i. e., to the earliest version of Zechariah’s vision report. Rather, he assigns the oldest material, attested in vv. 1–6aα*, 10b–14*, to a revision of the text around 500 b.c.e. One aim of this proposed revision was to portray God as the

29 I. Willi-Plein, Haggai, Sacharja, Maleachi (ZBK 24.4; Zürich: TVZ, 2007), 95–102, here 95–96. 30 J. Wöhrle, Die frühen Sammlungen des Zwölfprophetenbuches (BZAW 360; Berlin / ​New York: de Gruyter, 2006), 356–366 (see also the table on p. 366). According to Wöhrle, Zechariah might have written this material, yet its focus on the temple, not shared by the vision report, speaks against it. 31 H.-G. Schöttler, Gott inmitten seines Volkes: die Neuordnung des Gottesvolkes nach Sacharja 1–6 (TThSt 43; Trier: Paulinus-Verlag, 1987), 448. According to Schöttler, the oracle in v. 6b (‫ )לא בחיל ולא בכח כי אם ברחי אמר ה׳ צבאות‬is earlier, stemming from the first reworking of the vision report around 515 b.c.e. when the temple was rededicated. In contrast, the short phrase “to Zerubbabel” (‫ )אל זרבבל‬in 4:6aβ, along with the material in vv. 7, 8–9, and 10a, stems from a later, secondary reworking of the material. 32 Schöttler, Gott, 121–125. 33 Schöttler, Gott, 307–309. 34 Schöttler, Gott, 310–312. According to Schöttler, this redaction sought to model Zech 1–6 after the accounts of the pre-exilic kings. As these pre-exilic kings, Zerubbabel was responsible for the temple.

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ruler of the world (4:14) who is dwelling in Jerusalem.35 The material in Zech 4:6aβ–10a was added in a subsequent revision in the middle of the 5th century b.c.e. which aimed to link an early form of the vision report with the already existing material in Haggai. The depiction of Zerubbabel as the temple builder was part of this endeavour.36 In my view, neither Schöttler nor Hallaschka manages to explain in a satisfactory way why a revision carried out in the 5th century b.c.e. would use the name Zerubbabel. If Ezra 1–6 stems from the 5th century b.c.e. or later, as argued above, and if the material about Zerubbabel in Zech 4 stems from the same time, the redactor responsible for the latter could hardly have known anything at all about the man. He would only have had some sparse references from Hag 1–2 (note that Hallaschka postdates the most exciting material, Hag 2:2–23, to the Hellenistic period).37 This scarce material is, in my view, insufficient to put Zerubbabel on par with David insofar as reputation and fame go. Expressed differently, there is not enough material about Zerubbabel to give rise to the use of his name as a symbol. Although a person can become a symbol even if s/he never existed and/or never did what legends would have him/her to have done (King Arthur is a case in point), there must be a certain amount of material about the person for this symbolization to work. In the case of Zerubbabel, it does not. Turning to Joshua,38 it is common among scholars who detect gradual growth in Zech 1–6 to treat Zech 3 as a later addition to the vision cycle and thus, almost inevitably, as having been composed after 519 b.c.e. For instance, Wöhrle postulates a so-called Joshua Redaction (RJ) wherein the texts referring to Joshua (Zech 3:1–8; 6:14) were composed. These additions were written not too long after the completion of the building of the temple, sometimes in the end of the 6th century or in the beginning of the 5th century b.c.e. This redaction constituted a reaction to the focus on Zerubbabel in the preceding layer of Zech 1–6 as it sought to transform the Zecharian material into only referring to Joshua and thus supporting a dawning theocracy.39 Hallaschka agrees with Wöhrle about the extraneous character of the material about Joshua (Zech 3; 6:9–15) but suggests a much later date for its composition, namely in the late Persian or early Hellenistic period.40 According to Hallaschka, 35 M. Hallaschka, Haggai und Sacharja 1–8: Eine redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung (BZAW 411; Berlin / ​New York: de Gruyter, 2011), 237–238, 300–303, 322–323. 36 Hallaschka, Sacharja, 303–304, 322–323. 37 Hallaschka, Sacharja, 321. 38 Joshua is mentioned by name in Hag 1:1, 12, 14; 2:2, 4. In these passages, he is always mentioned together with Zerubbabel. See further D. Rooke, Zadok’s Heirs: The Role and Development of the High Priesthood in Ancient Israel (OTM; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 128–130. Joshua is also mentioned by name in Zech 3; 6:9–15. 39 Wöhrle, Frühe Sammlungen, 356–366 (see also the table on p. 366). According to Wöhrle, the vocabulary in Zech 3:5 signifies that Joshua has taken over the royal prerogatives. 40 Hallaschka, Sacharja, 306–309.

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the proclamation of the high priest’s increased power, reflected in the cleansing of Joshua in Zech 3, cannot have been written earlier than in the end of the Persian Period. Prior to that, it would have been untenable to assign a high level of political power to the high priest.41 In contrast, Schöttler regards the references to Joshua in Zech 3 as predating those to Zerubbabel in Zech 4. He argues that the vision account in Zech 4:1, 2, 3a, 4–6aα, 14 constituted the original centre of Zechariah’s vision report. In the first revision of the vision report, triggered according to Schöttler by the dedication of the temple in 515 b.c.e., its centre shifted so as to focus on the temple, the high priest Joshua, and his central role in removing the sins of the people and the land. At this point, Zech 3:1aα, 1b–4 was written.42 Later, in the second revision of Zechariah’s vision report, the centre was moved again. The account in Zech 3 was extended (by 3:1aβ, 5, 6–7, 9bβ) as was the account in Zech 4 (by 4:6aβ, 7, 8–9, 10). In this new edition, the combined Zech 3 and 4 formed the focal point, and its central idea was the diarchic leadership of God’s people, shared between the High Priest and the Davidide. By now, Joshua and Zerubbabel had ceased to be historical entities and instead come to be archetypes of their professions, i. e., the spiritual and the worldly leader of God’s people.43 In response to these theories, I have recently come to agree with the view that Zech 3 was composed subsequent to the other seven vision accounts, as suggested by its distinct literary form and style; yet this in itself does not dictate non-Zecharian authorship and it also does not require a date of composition after Joshua’s lifetime. In fact, I agree with Schöttler insofar as the reasons for its composition, namely to emphasize the role of the high priest in the cleansing of the land. The best date for most of Zech 3 is therefore around 520–515 b.c.e. when the temple was being rebuilt. Hallaschka’s claim that the authority given to the high priest in Zech 3 would have been unthinkable at this time fails to convince for two reasons. First, Zech 3 does not present the high priest in a blameless light. On the contrary, he is rebuked (v. 2), his clothes are tainted and he is in need of cleansing (vv. 3–5), and he is admonished (v. 6).44 Secondly, the power that he is given in v. 7 does not go beyond the temple precinct. As Deborah Rooke points out, Joshua’s appearance in a temple context cannot justifiably be taken to indicate that the high priesthood had acquired any power beyond that bestowed by his cultic responsibilities.45 With this critical estimation in mind, Sacharja, 193–220. Gott, 288, 291–301, 448. 43 Schöttler, Gott, 327, 448. 44 See further L.-S. Tiemeyer, Priestly Rites and Prophetic Rage: Post-Exilic Prophetic Critique of the Priesthood (FAT II/19; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 153–154. More recently, see also M. J. Boda, “Perspectives on Priests in Haggai-Malachi,” in Prayer and Poetry in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature: Essays in Honor of Eileen Schuller on the Occasion of Her 65th Birthday (ed. J. Penner et al.; STDJ 98; Leiden: Brill, 2011), 13–33, here 25–31. 45 Rooke, Zadok’s, 130–135, 150–151. 41 Hallaschka, 42 Schöttler,

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as well as the lack of secular power assigned to him and its clergy, the reasons behind a late date fade away. To sum up, it is reasonable to view the material in Zech 3 and 4, both the visionary material and the oracular material,46 to stem from the 6th century b.c.e., i. e., from a time when the historical characters of Joshua and Zerubbabel were still alive and when the temple needed to be rebuilt and its governance organized and structured.

IV. Prophecy and Named Historical Characters My claims that (1) Zech 3 and 4 refer to the historical figures Joshua and Zerubbabel and (2) that the references to these two men can serve as a tool for dating the texts in question, are strengthened by a comparison between Zech 3 and 4 and the divine oracles addressed to the final three kings of Judah in the book of Jeremiah. For the most part, the prophetic literature is uninterested in individual people. It is overall rare that a divine oracle mentions a person by his/her name. Instead, the oracles speak about the people of Israel, they address personified Jacob and Zion/Jerusalem, and they refer to the surrounding nations. The exception is the book of Jeremiah.47 The divine speeches in this book do not only refer to historical characters in the third person; they also address them directly in the second person. This makes the book of Jeremiah the closest text for comparison to Haggai and Zech 1–8. Third person address is more common than second person address. The historicity of several of the named people addressed in the third person can be verified by extra-biblical sources. The divine oracles refer, for example, relatively often to Nebuchadnezzar in the third person (e. g. Jer 25:9–14; 43:10–13; 49:30; 50:17; Ezek 29:17–21; 30:10–11) and they also mention Jeroboam (II) in the aforementioned Amos 7:10–17. In other cases, they speak about persons whose names are known to us only in the biblical material. They refer, for instance, to King Shallum (Jehoahaz) (Jer 22:11–17), to King Jehoiakim (Jer 22:18–23), to a man named Jaazaniah son of Shaphan in Ezek 8:11–13, and to a man named Eliakim, son of Hilkiah in Isa 22:20–24 (cf. Isa 36:22). Furthermore, David appears in the abovementioned Ezek 34:23–24; 37:25. Turning to the rare occasions when God / ​the prophet addresses a named person in the second person, that person tends to be a king of Judah. Most of these occasions are located in the book of Jeremiah where the last three kings of 46 With the possible exception of Zech 3:8b and 10. See further the extensive redactioncritical discussion in my Zechariah’s Vision Report and Its Earliest Interpreters, 140–143. 47 The following discussion does not claim to be exhaustive. It further discounts the superscriptions to the various prophetic books.

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Judah are addressed in direct, divine speech: Jehoiakim (Jer 36:29); Jehoiachin (Jer 22:24–27 [28–30]); and Zedekiah (Jer 21:3–7; 27:12–15; 34:2–3, 4–5; 37:17; 38:17–18, 20–23). There are also a few occurrences in the book of Isaiah. Notably, Ahaz receives a direct oracle in Isa 7:10, much of Isa 37 speaks indirectly both to and about Sennacherib,48 and the aforementioned Isa 45:1–6 addresses Cyrus by name. Finally, in a few cases God addresses in direct speech a named person about whom we have no extra-biblical information. All these characters appear in the book of Jeremiah: Pashur (Jer 20:1–6); Hananiah (Jer 28:13–16); two prophets named Ahab and Zedekiah (Jer 29:21); Shemaiah (Jer 29:24–28); Jehoiakim (36:30–31); Ebed-melech (Jer 39:16–18), and Baruch (Jer 45:2–5). I contend that any definition of the figures of Zerubbabel and Joshua in Haggai and Zech 1–8 needs to take this comparative material into account. Zechariah 3:7 addresses Joshua in the second person and Zech 4:6aβ–10a addresses Zerubbabel in the second person. This direct speech renders the two passages on par with the oracles in Jeremiah which address the last three kings of Judah, as well as with Isaianic material which speaks to Ahab, Sennacherib, and Cyrus. Such a comparison highlights two issues. First, neither the pre-exilic kings of Judah nor the foreign rulers serve as symbols for the Judahite monarchy. There are no compelling reasons to assume that Shallum, Jehoiakim, Jehoiachin, and Zedekiah function in the book of Jeremiah as anything else than the individual rulers bearing their names. Likewise, the characters of Sennacherib and Cyrus (contra Baltzer above) do not represent their respective country or symbolize typical Neo-Assyrian or Persian traits but instead denote the actual historical men. In view of this data, I suggest that Zerubbabel and Joshua – like their named counterparts in Jeremiah and Isaiah – denote the historical individuals rather than being symbols of their respective political and cultic office. Secondly, and somewhat more negatively, a second person address in a prophetic oracle may serve as an indicator of the date of the text, yet it cannot be ruled out that the text stems from a time subsequent to the death of the person being addressed. On the whole, however, it is rather likely that the pertinent material in Jeremiah was composed during the lifetime of the aforementioned Judahite kings. For instance, the direct speech to Zedekiah in Jer 34:4–5, which promises the monarch a peaceful death, stands at odds with the account in Jer 39:5–7, that reports how Zedekiah saw his sons’ execution before his eyes were being cut out and he was taken in shackles to Babylon. This discrepancy renders it plausible that the direct speech to Zedekiah in Jer 34:4–5 was uttered 48 Isaiah 37 is a special case, given its narrative quality and its textual parallel in 2 Kgs 19. It is thus unclear to what extent Isa 37 can be used as an example of direct address within the prophetic literature.

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to the king whilst he was still the reigning king of Judah. At the same time, the possibility must remain that at least some of the oracles addressed to Jehoiakim, Jehoiachin, and Zedekiah were written retrospectively.49 Likewise, while I uphold the likelihood that Isa 45 was written in the 6th century, a later date cannot be ruled out. It follows that although Zech 3 and 4:6aβ–10a make the most sense as 6th century compositions (given the fact that that is when the two men lived), we cannot use the references to these two men as our sole criterion for dating the material.

IV. Conclusion In conclusion, I maintain that the references in Zech 3 and 4 to Zerubbabel and Joshua refer to the historical persons bearing these names who lived in the 6th century b.c.e. They are not symbols of the Davidide and the High Priest. More tentatively, I consider it to be likely that the oracular material in Zech 4:6ab–10a, as well as most of Zech 3, was composed roughly at the same time, namely around 520 b.c.e., as the earliest version of Zechariah vision report. In my view, these additions, which contain the names of the political leader Zerubbabel and the religious leader Joshua, bring a historical dimension to the polyvalent imagery of the vision report. In other words, they make the vision report relevant to and applicable to the political and religious situation in Yehud in 520–515 b.c.e. The opposite view, namely to see the additions of the material about Joshua and Zerubbabel as part of a depoliticizing and de-historicizing tendency, is less likely for three reasons. First, it does not fit the historically anchored framework in Zech 1:7. Secondly, it does not suit the overall presentation of Haggai and Zech 1–8 which aims to present Zerubbabel and Joshua as historical persons who were chosen and supported by God. Finally, a symbolic understanding of the names Joshua and Zerubbabel is not in line with the way that named characters function in the book of Jeremiah and other prophetic texts.

49 Speaking about Jehoiakim, R. P. Carroll, Jeremiah (OTL; London: SCM Press, 1986), 663, argues that there is a close connection between Jehoiakim’s actions in Jer 36 and the rise of Neo-Babylonian power, even though the actual dating formulae in vv. 1, 9 (which date the text to 605–604 b.c.e.) may be redactional. Turning to the direct address to Jehoiachin, W. McKane, Jeremiah. Vol 1: Introduction and Commentary to Jeremiah I–XXV (ICC; Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1986), 54–55, discusses the gradual growth of the pericope. McKane himself argues in favour of an early Jeremian statement to Jehoiachin in v. 24 and subsequent expansions in vv. 25–26, 27. Verses 28–30 continue the address to Jehoiachin in the third person. Likewise, speaking of the direct address to Zedekiah in Jer 21:4, McKane (Jeremiah, 498) regards the statement as stemming from the prophet Jeremiah (and thus to the reign of Zedekiah).

The ’ămānāh of Nehemiah 10 between Deuteronomy and the Holiness Code Reinhard Achenbach This paper investigates the relation between the measures mentioned in the literary core of Neh 10 and distinctions in the Pentateuchal tradition. It will show that according to the tradition of Neh 10 the regulations of the Holiness Code were not established sacral law at the time of Nehemiah. That means that the canonization of the Holiness Code should be dated not earlier than the 2nd half of the 5th century b.c.e.

Introduction Neh 10:1–2, 9b, 10, 15, 29–30 1 In spite of all this we make a firm commitment in writing, and on the sealed document are the names of our leaders, our Levites, and our other priests 2 Those who sealed it with their signatures were: Nehemiah the governor […] 9b […] these are the priests. 10 These are the Levites […] 15 The leaders of the people […] 29 the rest of the people […] 30 associate themselves with their noble kinsmen in taking upon themselves a curse and an oath […]

‫ ובכל־זאת‬1 ‫אנחנו כרתים אמנה וכתבים‬ ‫ועל החתום ׂשרינו לוינו כהנינו׃‬ ]…[ ‫ ועל החתומים נחמיה התרׁשתא‬2 ‫ […] אלה הכהנים׃‬9b ]…[ ‫ והלוים‬10 ]…[ ‫ ראׁשי העם‬15 ]…[ ‫ וׁשאר העם‬29 ‫ מחזיקים על־אחיהם אדיריהם‬30 ]…[ ‫ובאים באלה ובׁשבועה‬

One of the most interesting remnants in the memorial of Nehemiah is the selfobligation (Heb. ’ămānāh, Gk. pistis = “contract”) of Nehemiah as “the administrator” (hattiršātā’), 22 priests (Neh 10:1b, 2–9), 17 Levites (Neh 10:9–14), and 43 leaders of the people of Jerusalem and Judah (Neh 10:15–28, according to Neh 10:1b they were śārîm, “leading administrators,” Gk. archontes), some other leaders and their families, together with those in charge of the temple cult

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in Jerusalem (Neh 10:29–30a), in order to assure the supply of ritual materials to the sanctuary. Together with parts of the so-called memoir of Nehemiah, the text is found in the scroll of Nehemiah and in some Greek versions. As we know, the oldest Hebrew/Aramaic versions already combined the reports on Nehemiah with those about Ezra, who executed his reforms ca. 398 b.c.e. under Artaxerxes II. The narrative of Neh 8 states that the Torah of Ezra was the sēper tôrat mōšeh ’ăšer ‑ṣiwwāh haššēm ’et-yiśrā’ēl (Neh 8:2), and that Nehemiah as tiršātā’ was present at the time of its promulgation. The result is the thesis that the measures of Nehemiah were in accordance with the Torah established by Ezra. Nehemiah 10:30aß,b says that the ’ămānāh was according to the commandments, laws, and rules of Yhwh. This verse, however, lacks sufficient grounding in the biblical texts of the ancient law and appears to be a redactional addition.1 There is no doubt that the text underwent several reworkings and rewritings in late Achaemenid and early Hellenistic times,2 however, there are reasons to assume that it still retained remnants of an original core. Texts similar to this ’ămānāh are known from Asia Minor, where poleis or amphictyonic groups left inscriptions about their dedication to a common sanctuary or decisions from the assembly of the people about religious, political or legal obligations of the society.3 1 For recent scholarly discussion on Neh 10 cf. L. S. Fried, “A Religious Association in Second Temple Judah? A Comment on Nehemiah 10,” Transeu 30 (2005), 77–96; R. Heckl, Neuanfang und Kontinuität in Jerusalem: Studien zu den hermeneutischen Strategien im Esra– Nehemia-Buch (FAT 104; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 315–350. 2 This can be observed from the connections between the name lists in Ezra 2/Neh 7 and Neh 10:1–28, and from the transformations during the composition history of Ezra-Nehemiah, cf. Heckl, Neuanfang und Kontinuität, 336–347. Reconstructions have been presented by R. G. Kratz, Die Komposition der erzählenden Bücher des Alten Testaments (UTB 2157; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000), 89–92, and by J. L. Wright, Rebuilding Identity: The Nehemiah-Memoir and Its Earliest Readers (BZAW 348; Berlin / ​New York: de Gruyter, 2004). That a historical document behind Neh 10 can be traced was already assumed by S. Mowinckel, Studien zu dem Buche Ezra-Nehemia III. Die Ezrageschichte und das Gesetz Moses (SUNVAO 7; Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1965), 128. M. Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988), 165, developed a theory about the peculiar origins of the text: “Neh 10 is not merely a source of early Jewish legal exegesis but an exegetical source in its own right. […] The laws in Nehemiah are not found in the Pentateuch, but rather within a historiographical narrative; they are manifestly not Sinaitic, but rather refer back to those laws. […] the laws in Neh. 10 are not meant for all Israel, but rather for a small sectarian group which wished to be separate from the ‘peoples of the land’ (and other Israelites). […] Neh. 10 is a legal document with a list of laws, and is formulated in legal terms.” For the literary impact within the composition cf. R. J. Bautch, “The Function of Covenant Across Ezra-Nehemiah,” in Unity and Disunity in Ezra-Nehmiah: Redaction, Rhetoric, and Reader (ed. M. J. Boda and P. L. Redditt; HBMg17; Sheffield: Phoenix, 2008), 8–24. 3 L. S. Fried, “Religious Association,“ 77; cf. J. von Prott and L. Ziehen, Leges Graecorum Sacrae e Titulis Collectae I–II (Leipzig: Teuner, 1896–1906); F. Sokolowski, Lois sacrées de l’Asie Mineure (Paris: de Boccard, 1955/1969); M. N. Tod, A Selection of Greek Historical Inscriptions (2nd ed.; Oxford: Clarendon, 1946/1948); H. W. Pleket, Epigraphica, Vol. II: Texts on the Social

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81

The literary connection to the (later) narrative frame of the prayer of penitence in Neh 9 is not very strong. The text needs only two words, Neh 10:1a: ûbǝkāl zō’t – a short phrase used only here in the Hebrew Bible, as the Masoretic note shows. But the phrasing is special: ’ănaḥnû kōrǝtîm ’ămānāh – “We make a firm commitment/contract” (the term “kārat bərît” is replaced) and thus the scribes determine the special genre of the text – as ’ămānāh, firm commitment. A parallel can be found in Neh 11:23, mentioning an ’ămānāh for the (levitical) temple singers, that contained rules about their obligations. This study divides the ’ămānāh – pístis – contract/self-obligation of Jerusalem in Neh 10 into eight parts.

I. Endogamy The first obligation refers to the avoidance of mixed marriages with the local non-Israelite population. Titus Reinmuth has seen that the obligations do not really rest on legal distinctions of regulations in the Covenant Code, Deuteronomy, the Priestly Code, or even the Holiness Code, but that they have a connection with the measures taken by Nehemiah as reported in the memoir.4 Here it is reported (Neh 13:4–9) that Eliashib the priest allowed his relative, Tobiah (the Ammonite, cf. Neh 2:10; 3:1), to have a room among the holy chambers in the temple, where there formerly had been a storage for meal offerings, frankincense, tithes, and gifts. The reason may have been to establish a religious and diplomatic tie between the Jerusalem temple and Samaria. In order to avoid any foreign claims on religious affairs or even on land ownership in the temple precinct, Nehemiah banishes Tobiah from the temple. The second occasion is the experience reported in Neh 13:23–27: Nehemiah realizes that the children from mixed marriage couples lose their knowledge of the Hebrew language and culture. The text reports on an outrageous reaction of the tiršātā’. The third event is the expulsion of Joiada, the son of the high priest Eliashib, who was the son-in-law of Sanballat the Horonite, i. e., the governor of Samaria, from the administration building of Nehemiah (‫ואבריחהו מעלי‬ – “I drove him away from me!”). The reports show that there was no legally binding regulation existing at that time that contained a prohibition of mixed marriages in Jerusalem or even among the priestly families. However, as the first self-obligation in the list, the commitment History of the Greek World (Leiden: Brill, 1969); E. Lupu, Greek Sacred Law: A Collection of New Documents (2nd ed.; RGRW 152; Leiden / Boston: Brill, 2009); K. Brodersen et al., Historische griechische Inschriften in Übersetzung, Bd. 1–3 (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2011). 4 T. Reinmuth, Der Bericht Nehemias: zur literarischen Eigenart, traditionsgeschichtlichen Prägung und innerbiblischen Rezeption des Ich-Berichts Nehemias (OBO 183; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2002), 210–219; idem, “Reform und Tora bei Nehemia. Neh 10, 31–40 und die Autorisierung der Tora in der Perserzeit,” ZAR 7 (2001), 287–317.

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of the citizens of Jerusalem not to allow mixed marriages in the future thus excluded claims or influences on religion and ownership in the holy city. Neh 10:31 To wit: We will not give our daughters in marriage to the (local) population of the land! We will not take their daughters as wives for our sons!

‫ואׁשר‬ ‫לא־נתן בנתינו לעמי הארץ‬ ‫ואת־בנתיהם לא נקח לבנינו׃‬

In her dissertation on “Das Fremde und das Eigene”5 Ruth Ebach has brought forward plausible arguments for the assumption that the rules of the “Qahal” in Deut 23:2–5, 8–9 could be part of an older self-obligation of the religious community of Jerusalem and Judah, even from Josianic times. The rule of the ’ămānāh in Neh 10:31 does not appear in the context of the ancient scroll of Deuteronomy, but in the context of the secondary, Deuteronomistic and historical frame in Deut 7. Here, in Deut 7:1–4 (see text in chart below), the theory of a total divine claim on the promised land, expressed in the commandment to perform the sacred banishment of all foreign peoples from the land, has been inserted into the legal frame of the conquest story. The additional commandments not to grant them contracts and not to intermarry refer to other Deuteronomistic narratives (Josh 9; Judg 3:6 [see chart]; 1 Kgs 11) and thus reflect that the original commandment never was obeyed completely (cf. Judg 1). At the same time the narrative serves as a religious legitimation to introduce the prohibition of mixed marriages in the Torah of Moses. When a later scribe integrated the commandment as the “first commandment” of the new covenant in Exod 34:11–16 [see chart] even before the prohibition of idols (Exod 34:17), he no longer referred to the commandment of “ban” as we still find it in Deut 7:1–2a. Thus we may trace the origin of the prohibition of mixed marriages to the time of Nehemiah. The introduction of this prohibition into the Mosaic Torah may be dated in the second half of the 5th century b.c.e. The measure seems to be confined to the “Qahal” of Jerusalem. The scribes who introduced it into Deuteronomy transferred the idea of the purity of the Qahal to the concept of the purity and holiness of Israel (cf. Deut 7:6) and thus expanded the concept onto all Israel, including those parts of the people who did not yet come into the promised land. The scribe of Exod 34:11–16 radicalizes the obligation as part of a “new decalogue.”6 5 R. Ebach, “Das Fremde und das Eigene: die Fremdendarstellungen des Deuteronomiums im Kontext israelitischer Identitätskonstruktionen” (PhD diss., Westfälische Wilhelms-Universität, 2013), 68–104. 6 E. Blum, Studien zur Komposition des Pentateuch (BZAW 189; Berlin / ​New York: de Gruyter, 1990), 67–72, 365–375, has argued against a preexilic date of Exod 34:15. For the dating of Deut 7:3 at a late-or post-Dtr stage, cf. R. Achenbach, Israel zwischen Verheißung und Gebot: literarkritische Untersuchungen zu Deuteronomium 5–11 (EHS XXIII/422; Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 1991), 255–283; for Deut 7 see also idem, “Divine Warfare and Yhwh’s Wars: Religious Ideologies of War in the Ancient Near East and in the Old Testament,” in The Ancient

The ’ămānāh of Nehemiah 10 between Deuteronomy and the Holiness Code

Deut 7:2b, 3–4 ]…[ 2 ‫לא־תכרת להם ברית‬ ‫ולא תחנם׃‬ ‫ ולא תתחתן בם‬3 ‫בתך לא־תתן לבנו‬ ‫ובתו לא־תקח לבנך׃‬ ‫ כי־יסיר‬4 ‫את־בנך מאחרי‬ ‫ועבדו אלהים אחרים‬ ‫וחרה אף־יהוה בכם‬ ‫והׁשמידך מהר׃‬

Judg 3:6

Exod 34:15–16 ‫ פן־תכרת ברית‬15 ‫ליוׁשב הארץ‬ ]…[ ‫וזנו אחרי אלהיהם‬

‫ ויקחו את־בנותיהם‬6 ‫ ולקחת מבנתיו לבניך להם לנׁשים‬16 ‫ואת־בנותיהם‬ ‫וזנו בנתיו אחרי‬ ‫נתנו לבניהם‬ ‫אלהיהן‬ ‫והזנו את־בניך אחרי‬ ‫אלהיהן׃‬

83

Neh 13:25b ‫ואׁשביעם באלהים‬

‫אם־תתנו בנתיכם‬ ‫לבניהם‬ ‫ואם־תׂשאו מבנתיהם‬ ‫לבניכם ולכם׃‬

‫ויעבדו‬ ‫את־אלהיהם׃‬

II. Merchandise Sold and Bought on Sabbaths and on Holy Days For the second commitment expressed in Neh 10, not to permit trade in the area around the temple, there is no commandment in the Pentateuch at all. Neh 10:32a And if the local people of the land bring merchandise or any kind of grain to sell on the Sabbath, we will not buy from them on the Sabbath or on a holy day!

‫ועמי הארץ המביאים את־המקחות‬ ‫וכל־ׁשבר ביום הׁשבת למכור‬ ‫לא־נקח מהם בׁשבת‬ ‫וביום קדׁש‬

Jerusalem in the Persian period was open for international trade, and we can see from Isa 60:4–11 that there were high hopes of increasing the city’s welfare through trade activities from Arabian and Mediterranean countries.7 However, Near East in the 12th-10th Centuries BCE: Culture and History. Proceedings at the International Conference held at Haifa University, 2–5 May 2010 (ed. G. Galil et al.; AOAT 392; Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2012), 1–26. For the recent debate of the subject cf. C. Frevel, “The Discourse on Intermarriage in the Hebrew Bible,” in Mixed Marriages: Intermarriage and Group Identity in the Second Temple Period (ed. C. Frevel; LHBOTS 547; London / ​New York: T & T Clark, 2011), 1–14; S. Grätz, “The Question of ‘Mixed Marriages’ (Intermarriage): The Extra-Biblical Evidence,” in Mixed Marriages: Intermarriage and Group Identity in the Second Temple Period (ed. C. Frevel; LHBOTS 547; London / ​New York: T & T Clark, 2011), 192–204; A. Lange, “Mixed Marriages and the Hellenistic Religious Reforms,” in Mixed Marriages: Intermarriage and Group Identity in the Second Temple Period (ed. C. Frevel; LHBOTS 547; London / ​New York: T & T Clark, 2011), 205–219. 7 Isaiah 60:4–9 (JSB): “Raise your eyes and look about: They have all gathered and come to you. […] As you behold, you will glow; your heart will throb and thrill – for the wealth of the sea shall pass on to you, the riches of the nations shall flow to you. Dust clouds of camels shall cover you, dromedaries of Midian and Ephah. They all shall come from Sheba; they shall bear

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Nehemiah seems to have been critical of the concept that it would be “aliens” who “shall rebuild your walls” (Isa 60:10) and especially of the bright prophecy: “Your gates shall always stay open – day and night they shall never be shut – to let in the wealth of the nations” (Isa 60:11). Inside the newly built wall that does not serve military purposes but marks the area of the temenos of Zion, the commandment of Sabbath should be observed and obeyed. We do not find this regulation in the Torah. The redactional explication of the Sabbath commandment in the context of the building legend of the desert shrine in Exod 31:12–17 maintains the taboo against all sorts of physical work and demands the death penalty for those who profane (‫ )מהלל‬the Sabbath.8 Although Nehemiah finds that all activities of buying and selling, bringing and taking products into and from the city is a profanation (‫מהללים את־יום הׁשבת‬, Neh 13:17), he does not include a punishment for the violation of the rule. The concept that bearing any burden on the holy day is a transgression of the Sabbath is introduced into a fictional sermon of the prophet Jeremiah in Jer 17:19–27 (see parallels in chart below). Here we find the reasoning around the theme and even the threat of severe punishment of Israel (Ezek 20:10–13 refers to violating the first commandment when connecting Sabbath with the concept of profanation). Jeremiah 17 is clearly influenced by the post-Dtr framing of the book that sees the prophet as a successor of Moses, the prophetic teacher of Torah. Again we find that the text of the ’ămānāh can be interpreted as the result of the work of Nehemiah, and that the prohibition against bearing burdens on Sabbath was added to the Pentateuch at a post-Nehemianic state. Until the work of Nehemiah, there was not even the consciousness among the people of Jerusalem that trade close to the temple precinct could be forbidden. Thus the radical prohibition of all work because the Sabbath was a day of a sacred convocation (‫מקרא קדׁש‬, Lev 23:3) was not yet implanted firmly into the religious tradition.9 The term “holy day” is not rooted gold and frankincense, and shall herald the glories of the LORD. All the flocks of Kedar shall be assembled for you, the rams of Nebaioth shall serve your needs; they shall be welcome offerings on my altar, and I will add glory to my glorious House! […] Behold, the coastlands await me, with ships of Tarshish in the lead, to bring your sons from afar, and their silver and gold as well – for the name of the LORD your God, for the Holy One of Israel, who has glorified you.” From Elephantine there is evidence for trade and bearing burdens on the Sabbath even during the last quarter of the 5th century b.c.e., cf. A. Dupont-Sommer, “L’ostracon araméen du Sabbat [Collection Clermont–Ganneau no 152],” Semitica 2 (1949), 29–39. 8 The legend of Num 15:32–36 is a later scribal explication of that commandment; see H. Seebass, Numeri. 2. Teilband Numeri 10,11–22,1 (BK IV/2; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2003), 154–157; R. Achenbach, “Complementary Reading of the Torah in the Priestly Texts of Numbers 15,” in Torah in the Book of Numbers (ed. C. Frevel et al.; FAT II/62; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 201–232, here 225–230. 9 For the economic impact of the discussion about the Sabbath rule at the time of Nehemiah and on Neh 13:15–22 cf. P. Altmann, “Ancient Comparisons, Modern Models, and Ezra–Nehemiah: Triangulating the Sources for Insights on the Economy of Persian Period Yehud,” in The Economy of Ancient Judah in Its Historical Context (ed. M. L. Miller et al.; Winona Lake,

The ’ămānāh of Nehemiah 10 between Deuteronomy and the Holiness Code

85

in the Pentateuch, but at the time concerned issues in the middle of the 5th century b.c.e.10 (cf. Isa 58:12–14, where the Nehemianic measures seem to receive support: “Men from your midst shall rebuild ancient ruins, you shall restore foundations laid long ago, and you shall be called ‘Repairer of fallen walls, restorer of lanes for habitation.’ If you refrain from trampling the Sabbath, from pursuing your affairs on my holy day, if you call the Sabbath ‘delight,’ the Lord’s holy day ‘honored,’ and if you honor it and go not your ways […] I will set you astride the heights of the earth, and let you enjoy the heritage of your father Jacob […]”). Parallels Jer 17:21–22 ‫ כה אמר יהוה‬12 ‫הׁשמרו בנפׁשותיכם‬ ‫ואל־תׂשאו מׂשא ביום הׁשבת‬ ‫והבאתם בׁשערי ירוׁשלם׃‬ ‫ ולא־תוציאו מׂשא מבתיכם ביום הׁשבת‬22 ‫וכל־מלאכה לא תעׂשו‬ ‫וקדׁשתם את־יום הׁשבת‬ ‫כאׁשר צויתי את־אבותיכם׃‬

Amos 8:4–5 ‫ ׁשמעו־זאת הׁשאפים אביון ולׁשבית ענוי־ארץ׃‬4

5

‫לאמר מתי יעבר החדׁש ונׁשבירה ׁשבר‬ ‫והׁשבת ונפתחה־בר‬

III. Seventh Year Rules: Fallow Ground and Cancellation of Debt The self-obligation to keep to the rules of foregoing the harvest in the seventh year is rooted in the ancient preexilic tradition, as we find it in the Covenant Code (Exod 23:6–7). The application of the principle of the 6/7th year rhythm to the law of manumission was already evident in Exod 21:2. The extension to a regular release of debts was introduced in Deut 15:1 (“Every seventh year you shall practice remission of debts”). The difficulty of keeping these religious rules is reflected in the report on economic conflicts in Neh 5:1–12, especially Neh IN: Eisenbrauns, 2015), 103–120; at the time of Nehemiah an enactment of sacred law that demanded a death sanction for the profanation of the Sabbath as in Exod 31:14 had not yet been effected! The discussion about the issue was still ongoing, as we can see by scribal insertions into prophetic sermons that were introduced during the Persian Period as in Amos 8:4–5, cf. J. Wöhrle, Die frühen Sammlungen des Zwölfprophetenbuches: Entstehung und Komposition (BZAW 360; Berlin / ​New York: de Gruyter, 2006), 105–110, 129–135, and in Jer 17:24–27, cf. R. Achenbach, “The Sermon on the Sabbath in Jeremiah 17:19–27 and the Torah,” in The Formation of the Pentateuch. Bridging the Academic Cultures of Europe, Israel, and North America (ed. J. C. Gertz et al.; FAT 111; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 873–890. 10 The term ‫ יום קדׁש‬with respect to the Sabbath is mentioned only in Isa 58:13 and in Neh 10:32.

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5:5.11 The ’ămānāh draws the consequences from these measures.12 In the Holiness Code these conflicts are deeply reflected and the scribes develop a totally new, sacral order that makes debt slavery almost impossible (cf. Lev 25:19–55). That means that at the time of Nehemiah we may suppose that with legal questions people could refer to the Covenant Code and Deuteronomy, but that even these texts were not sufficiently acknowledged as binding religious law. At the same time we see that at the time of Nehemiah one could not yet refer to central distinctions of the Holiness Code. Thus the formation of the Holiness Code may have taken place between the time of Nehemiah and the time of Ezra. Neh 10:32b We will forgo the harvest / ​leave the fallow ground of the seventh year and we will return anything held in pledge (as remission for credit debts).

‫ונטׁש את־הׁשנה הׁשביעית‬ ‫ומׁשא כל־יד׃‬

Parallels Exod 23:10t–11 ‫ וׁשׁש ׁשנים תזרע את־ארצך‬10 ‫ואספת את־תבואתה׃‬ ‫ והׁשביעת תׁשמטנה‬11 ‫ונטׁשתה‬ ‫ואכלו אביני עמך‬ ‫ויתרם תאכל חית הׂשדה‬ ‫כן־תעׂשה לכרמך לזיתך׃‬

Deut 15:1–2 ‫ מקץ ׁשבע־ׁשנים תעׂשה‬1 ‫ׁשמטה׃‬ ‫ וזה דבר הׁשמטה ׁשמוט כל־‬2 ‫בעל מׁשה ידו‬ ]…[ ‫אׁשר יׁשה‬

Neh 5:10 ‫וגם־אני אחי ונערי‬ ‫נׁשים בהם כסף ודגן‬ ‫נעזבה־נא את־המׁשא הזה׃‬

IV. Obligatory Contribution to Keep up the Sacrificial Service in the Temple The formula ‫והעמדנו עלינו מצות‬ – “and we take on ourselves the obligations” – introduces the series of positive instructions after the prohibitions in Neh 10:31– 32. Klaus D. Schunck assumes that vv. 33, 36, 37b were secondarily combined with the prohibitions and that v. 34 seems to be an additional explanation of 11 Nehemiah 5:5: “Now, we are as good as our brothers, and our children as good as theirs; yet here we are subjecting our sons and daughters to slavery – some of our daughters are already subjected – and we are powerless, while our fields and vineyards belong to the others.” H. G. M. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah (WBC 16; Waco, TX: Word Books, 1985), 335. 12 K. D. Schunck, Nehemia (BKAT 23/2; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2009), 301; Reinmuth, Bericht, 216.

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v. 33.13 But this view is not compelling. Verses 31–32 treat those matters that belong to the sphere outside the sanctuary, and the desire to secure the holy precinct against profanation. Now, in a second step, the proper matters of the sanctuary are treated. Interestingly enough, there are no sufficient rules to ensure the performance of the religious and offering rituals. Whatever the priests may have had as their own “Torah,” it was far from being implemented among the members of the religious community. There is no law about a tax for the temple. The amount of 1/3 of a šeqel refers to the value of šǝqālîm at the time of Nehemiah, and one may argue how much it was in relation to the real income of a Jerusalem citizen. In any case it was considered to be sufficient to assure the ritual worship. The rule to give šeqel haqqōdeš as kōper in Exod 30:11–16 is obviously an insertion into Exod 30 that was formulated at a later stage. The text assumes that – perhaps in parallel with regular musterings of the Persian army where Jews were involved every year – there were musterings of the religious community (‘edah) in order to get an overview of the sanctuary’s income. As musterings after the Mosaic countings (Num 1:26) are considered to be a sin, because they contain a doubt about the divine promise to ensure the progeny of Israel and thus the possession of the promised land (cf. 2 Sam 24:1–9; 1 Chr 21:1–17), the idea is to pay the half-šeqel as a symbol of atonement. The text assumes that the sanctuary had its own right to produce šǝqālîm or even the right to produce its own coins; that was not the case before the 4th century b.c.e. The realization of the commandment is only attested from the time of the Maccabees.14 Neh 10:33–34 33 We take on ourselves the obligations to contribute on our behalf15 a third of a shekel annually for the service of the temple of our God, 34 i. e. for the showbread, the daily cereal-offering, and for the daily burnt offering, the Sabbaths, the new moons, for the established festivals and for the holy offerings, and for the sin offerings to cause atonement over/for Israel, and for any work to be done on the temple of our God.

‫ והעמדנו עלינו מצות‬33 ‫לתת עלינו ׁשלׁשית הׁשקל בׁשנה‬ ‫לעבדת בית אלהינו׃‬ ‫ ללחם המערכת‬34 ‫ומנחת התמיד‬ ‫ולעולת התמיד‬ ‫הׁשבתות החדׁשים‬ ‫למועדים‬ ‫ולקדׁשים‬ ‫ולחטאות לכפר על־יׂשראל‬ ‫וכל מלאכת בית־אלהינו׃‬

Nehemia, 302; Reinmuth, Bericht, 211–213. Nehemia, 302; J. Liver, “The Half-Shekel Offering in Biblical and Post-Biblical Literature,” HTR (1963), 173–198. 15 ‫ > ונילע‬pc MXX, Syr., Vulg. 13 Schunck, 14 Schunck,

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The explanation of the needs of the temple service may be additional. The “showbread” is called ‫ להם פנים‬in Exod 25:30, that is the bread before the face of God (cf. 1 Sam 21:7; 1 Kgs 7:48 ‫ ;)להם הפנים‬the term “bread of the stacking” (‫לחם‬ ‫ )המערכת‬is only attested in 1 Chr 9:32; 23:29. The daily cereal offering is mentioned only in Lev 6:13 and Num 4:16. A continual burnt offering (‫)עלת התמיד‬ is not known in the sources B, D or the Priestergrundschrift (additional in Exod 29:42), but frequently in the latest series of rules concerning the offerings, i. e., Num 28–30.16 The celebration of Sabbath and the New Moon Festival was known from preexilic times (Amos 8:5) and was observed until late postexilic times, as we can see from Ezek 46:1, 3 (1 Chr 23:31; 2 Chr 2:4; 8:13; 31:3), but the New Moon Festival is not mentioned in the Pentateuch. The omission means that in the reform of the Sabbath theology that was part of the Holiness Code in Lev 25 the remembrance of a New Moon Festival is no longer attested. About ‫ מועדים‬we read only in Gen 1 and in Num 29:39, about ‫ קדׁשים‬in Lev 21:22; 22:4, 6–7, 16. The mentioning of sin offerings in coherence with atonement rituals is rather frequent in the priestly rules (Lev 4:20; 5:6; 12:8; 14:19; 15:15; 16:6, 11; Num 6:11; 28:22; 29:5). The last formula, for any work to be done on the temple of our God, resembles all possible duties of the priests.

V. Delivery of Wood The ancient rule to leave the task of collecting wood to poor people who were not rooted in the Israelites (Josh 9:27) could not be maintained at a time of increasing cultic activity. The fact that the citizens of Jerusalem created a new self-obligation for that task shows that there were no written regulations in the religious law. Neh 10:35 Item: we have cast lots for the delivery of wood (i. e. from the priests, the Levites and the people) to bring it to the temple of our God according to our father’s houses at the set times, annually, to burn upon the altar of Yhwh, our God, as prescribed in the Torah.

16 Cf.

also Ezek 46:15; Ezra 3:5.

‫והגורלות הפלנו על־קרבן העצים‬ ‫הכהנים הלוים והעם‬ ‫להביא לבית אלהינו‬ ‫לבית־אבתינו‬ ‫לעתים מזמנים ׁשנה בׁשנה‬ ‫לבער על־מזבח יהוה אלהינו‬ ‫ככתוב בתורה׃‬

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VI. First Fruits and Firstborn It is only the Torah-oriented reworking that adds: the wood was necessary to perform the ritual prescribed in the older forms of the Torah. The self-obligation to bring the first fruits of the land makes clear that the ancient rites of Exod 23:19; 34:26; Deut 26:1 had not been observed consequently by the Jerusalem congregation, nor was the rite to bring an offering for the firstborn (Exod 13:13; 34:20; Num 18:15). From Deut 18:4 the obligation to bring the ‫ ראׁשית‬is known. The ’ămānāh makes sure that the traditional rules for the sacrificial worship had to be observed. Until the time of Nehemiah there was no regular observance of a sacral law at Jerusalem. Perhaps v.37a and v.37b are additions that were made according to pentateuchal teachings. Neh 10:36–37, 38a 36 and to bring the first fruits of our land and the first of every fruit of every fruit tree annually to the temple of Yhwh, 37 and also the firstborn of our sons and of our livestock as prescribed in the Torah; and the firstborn of our cattle and our sheep, to bring to the temple of our God, to the priests on duty in the temple of our God. 38a And also the best of our dough, our contributions, the fruit of every tree, the new wine and the fine oil we will bring to the priests at the storehouses of the temple of our God.

‫ ולהביא את־בכורי אדמתנו‬36 ‫ובכורי כל־פרי כל־עץ‬ ‫ׁשנה בׁשנה לבית יהוה׃‬ ‫ ואת־בכרות בנינו‬37 ‫ובהמתינו‬ ‫ככתוב בתורה‬ ‫ואת־בכורי בקרינו וצאנינו‬ ‫להביא לבית אלהינו‬ ‫לכהנים המׁשרתים בבית אלהינו׃‬ ‫ ואת־ראׁשית עריסתינו ותרומתינו‬38a ‫ופרי כל־עץ תירוׁש ויצהר‬ ‫נביא לכהנים אל־לׁשכות בית־אלהינו‬

VII. The Tithe of the Levites The regulation about the tithes for the Levites seems to reflect the distinctions of Deut 14:27–29. Reinmuth and others assume that between v. 38a and 40b, Neh 10:38b–40a is a later addition.17 The distinction of the postexilic priestly groups that clearly separates the priesthood in the line of Zadok from the other Levites and ends the period of the Levites’ influence on the priesthood was introduced into the Pentateuch in Num 17–18 and Num 1–10 during the latest phase of the formation of the Pentateuch.18 Bericht, 212 ff.; Schunck, Nehemia, 308. Die Vollendung der Tora: Studien zur Redaktionsgeschichte des Numeribuches im Kontext von Hexateuch und Pentateuch (BZAR 3; Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2003), 37–172. 17 Reinmuth,

18 R. Achenbach,

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Neh 10:38b, 39, 40a 38b The tithe of our land (we will bring) to the Levites, for it is the Levites who collect the tithe in all the county towns. 39 An Aaronite priest shall be with the Levites when they collect the tithe; and the Levites shall bring up the tenth part of the tithe to the temple of our God, to the rooms in the storehouse, 40a for Israelites and Levites will bring the contribution of grain, new wine and fine oil to the storerooms, where the vessels of the sanctuary are kept, and where the priests on duty, the gatekeepers, and the musicians reside.

‫ ומעׂשר אדמתנו ללוים‬38b ‫והם הלוים המעׂשרים‬ ‫בכל ערי עבדתנו׃‬ ‫ והיה הכהן בן־אהרן עם־הלוים‬39 ‫בעׂשר הלוים‬ ‫והלוים יעלו את־מעׂשר המעׂשר‬ ‫לבית אלהינו‬ ‫אל־הלׁשכות לבית האוצר׃‬ ‫ כי אל־הלׁשכות יביאו בני־‬40a ‫יׂשראל‬ ‫ובני הלוי את־תרומת הדגן‬ ‫התירוׁש והיצהר‬ ‫וׁשם כלי המקדׁש‬ ‫והכהנים המׁשרתים והׁשוערים‬ ‫והמׁשררים‬

VIII. General Commitment Neh 10:40b We will not neglect the temple of our God!

‫ולא נעזב את־בית אלהינו׃‬

The original text of the ’ămānāh ends with Neh 10:40. The tradition makes clear that at the time of Nehemiah a sacral law containing the regulations of the priestly Torah of the Holiness Code or even the teachings of Lev 1–7, 11–15 was not yet canonized and implemented as a Torah for all Judah and Jerusalem. We can even observe from Neh 10 that in the middle of the 5th century things were much more fluid than we might imagine if we only had the Pentateuch in mind. Beside the laws of the Covenant Code and Deuteronomy, in the ’ămānāh we have another Achaemenid point for the reconstruction of the formation of the Torah in the postexilic period.

Why Did Zerubbabel’s Adversaries Emphasize Their Foreign Origins? Yigal Levin Upon arriving in Jerusalem sometime after 539 b.c.e., the returnees led by Zerubbabel were approached by a group of people to whom Ezra 4:1 refers as “the adversaries of Judah and Benjamin” (‫)צרי יהודה ובנימן‬, who requested, “Let us build with you, for we worship your God as you do, and we have been sacrificing to him ever since the days of King Esarhaddon of Assyria who brought us here” (Ezra 4:2). The answer of the leaders of the returnees was unequivocal: “But Zerubbabel, Jeshua, and the rest of the heads of families in Israel said to them, ‘You shall have no part with us in building a house to our God; but we alone will build to the Lord, the God of Israel, as King Cyrus of Persia has commanded us’” (Ezra 4:3). Most of the standard treatments of this passage deal with the following issues: 1. Who were these “adversaries”? 2. Were they or were they not identical with “the people of the land” (‫)עם הארץ‬ who are mentioned in v. 4? 3. What were their motives in offering to participate in the construction of the Temple? 4. Was their offer genuine, or did they have ulterior motives? 5. Why did the returnees reject their offer out of hand? To summarize the general consensus, most commentators identify these “adversaries” as the people later known as the Samaritans,1 although other proposals do exist.2 An apparently similar group is mentioned in v. 10, quoting a letter written 1 The identification of the “adversaries” with the Samaritans can be traced back to Josephus (Ant. 11.84). For more modern examples, see F. C. Fensham, The Books of Ezra and Nehemiah (Nicot; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1982), 66–67, who assumes that the “adversaries” and “the people of the land” to be the same; J. Blenkinsopp, Ezra-Nehemiah – A Commentary (OTL; London: SCM Press, 1989), 106–108, assumes the “adversaries” are those who would later be called Samaritans, while “the people of the land” are “the local population” of Judah and the neighboring provinces. L. S. Fried, Ezra: A Commentary (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2015), 190–193, believes that this section of Ezra was written later, with the Samaritans clearly in mind. 2 R. J. Coggins, The Books of Ezra and Nehemiah (CBC; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1976), 27, thought it “perfectly possible” that the “enemies” (the NEB translation for what we have been calling “the adversaries”) were indeed settlers brought in by Esarhaddon, but added “such settlers should not be confused with the Samaritans, who were a conservative

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to Artaxerxes, as “the nations whom the great and noble Osnappar deported and settled in the cities of Samaria and in the rest of the province Beyond the River.” It is often accepted that these people practiced a syncretistic worship of both the God of Israel and of other gods, following 2 Kgs 17:41, “So these nations worshiped the Lord, but also served their carved images; to this day their children and their children’s children continue to do as their ancestors did.”3 Most also assume that the offer was disingenuous, meant to disguise ulterior motives. Williamson, for example, wrote, “Their offer to help may therefore have arisen as a disguise for their feeling of offended proprietary rights, and may have hidden motives not apparent from their recorded statement.”4 The most debated issue is actually that of the Jewish leaders’ refusal, with the opinions ranging from political to economic to personal to isolationist to exclusivist to outright racist motivations.5 There is also the question of authenticity: to what extent can Ezra 4:1–5 be considered a historical text, and to what extent has it been worked over by the group within Judaism” (sic). H. G. M. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah (WBC 16; Waco, TX: Word Books, 1985), 49–50 calls the “adversaries” “an ill-defined group” and disassociates them from the later Samaritans. He thinks that the “‘people of the land’ […] may include the ‘adversaries’ […] but cannot be restricted to them.” D. J. A. Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther (NCB; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1984), 73, writes, “Obviously the term ‘adversaries’ is the Chronicler’s categorization; though some scholars have attempted to distinguish them from ‘the people of the land’ (v. 4), it seems more probable that the Chronicler intended us to identify the two groups.” Clines, like Williamson, identifies them with the colonists brought to the province of Samaria by the Assyrians, but adds, “in any case the ‘people of the land’ cannot be clearly identified with the Persian officials in Samaria whose later antagonism to the Jews is dealt with in vv. 7–23, and certainly not (as is often done) with the Samaritans of much later times.” L. L. Grabbe, EzraNehemiah (OTR; London: Routledge, 1998), 137, sees both labels as referring to the unexiled Judahites, whom the writer of Ezra wished to brand as “foreigners.” 3 Clines, Ezra, 73, for example, assumes that the religious practices of the settlers under Esarhaddon were “likely to have been similar” to those of Sargon’s “colonists,” and proceeds to quote this very verse. He continues, “for a non-Israelite the worship of the gods of one’s homeland together with the god of one’s adopted country was entirely natural.” Clines then goes on to cite the worship of other gods together with Yahweh by the Jews of Elephantine. 4 Williamson, Ezra, 49. For a conflicting view, see Coggins, The Books of Ezra and Nehemiah, 27, who thinks that they were “anxious to help.” 5 Williamson, Ezra, 50, takes the reason given by the Jerusalem leaders at face value: Cyrus had authorized them and them alone to build the Temple, and allowing additional groups to join “might have jeopardized the whole undertaking.” Blenkinsopp, Ezra-Nehemiah, 107, agrees that the rejection “was justified on the technical point that those making it were not mentioned in the imperial firman,” but adds, “the real reason was, of course, quite different. The syncretistic practices of the petitioners would have sufficed,” but the real reason was political: “The leaders in the province of Samaria may well have seen the emergence of a new, aggressive presence in Judah, and one which enjoyed the clear favor of the imperial government, as threatening […] An offer to share the labor, and presumably also the expense […] would in fact have entailed, a share in controlling the temple itself with all that that implied.” Clines, Ezra, 75, believes that Cyrus’ decree “would hardly have been compromised if the northern Yahweh-worshippers had helped.” The exiles “instinctively” feel that “the blandishments of the northerners are to be resisted as they should have been in the days of the divided kingdom.”

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writer or editor of Ezra-Nehemiah? And what of the letters to and from Artaxerxes that make up the rest of the chapter? To what extent can they be considered “historical”?6 All of this and more has been dealt with multiple times. One issue which, to the best of my knowledge, has not been dealt with is the question of the “adversaries’” motives, not for offering to help, but for identifying themselves as foreign deportees in the first place. Why not claim to be genuine Israelites, who have always worshipped Yahweh, and are now happy to welcome their exiled brethren? We know that, at least within the Bible, such people did exist, even in Samaria. Jeremiah 41:5 famously tells of 80 men of Shechem, Shiloh, and Samaria who came to worship the Lord, even after the destruction of Jerusalem. So, assuming that they did wish Zerubbabel and his group to give them a role in the new temple, why emphasize their foreign origins? What were they thinking? One possibility that must be considered, of course, is that it is not the “adversaries” who are doing the emphasizing, but rather the author. That is, the writer of Ezra 4, using a well-known literary technique, made his characters say what he wanted his readers to think about them. It is the author who considers the “adversaries” (a.k.a. Samaritans) to be syncretistic foreigners, and makes them say so, so that his readers can easily understand Zerubbabel’s rejection of them.7 There are a number of problems with this theory. The first is what we may call the roundaboutness of the presentation. It would have been much simpler for the writer to have simply written, “and then the adversaries of Judah and Benjamin, descendants of those nations whom the king of Assyria had brought into the land, who worshipped the Lord, but also served their carved images […]” and so on. The second problem is in the details. If we actually look at 2 Kgs 17, we will see that the only “King of Assyria” mentioned by name is Shalmaneser, who subjugated Hoshea son of Elah king of Israel. The chapter then goes on to tell of Hoshea’s imprisonment, the capture of Samaria, the exile of the people, the bringing in of other people, and finally the sending of an Israelite priest who taught the new inhabitants how to worship the God of the land, all by “the king of Assyria.” The fact that we know that most of the above was actually accomplished 6 For a more negative approach, see L. S. Fried, “Ezra’s Use of Documents in the Context of Hellenistic Rules of Rhetoric,” in New Perspectives on Ezra-Nehemiah: History and Historiography, Text, Literature, and Interpretation (ed. I. Kalimi; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2012), 11–26; idem. Ezra, 194. 7 Thus, for example, Clines, Ezra, 73. D. Rom-Shiloni, Exclusive Inclusivity: Identity Conflicts Between the Exiles and the People who Remained (6th–5th Centuries BCE) (LHBOTS 543; London / ​New York: T & T Clark, 2013), 41–42, also believes that the “people of the land” and the “adversaries” were “Judean Yahwists, or even Yahwistic Israelites,” and that it was the writer of Ezra-Nehemiah who refused to recognize them as such, labeling them “adversaries of Judah and Benjamin” and making them “describe themselves as the descendants of multi-ethnic deportees brought from afar to the Assyrian province of Samaria; they do not even belong to a single national group.”

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by Sargon II over several decades8 does not mean that the author of Ezra 4 would have known it. We should remember that the only time that Sargon is mentioned in the Bible is in Isa 20:1, as the king who sent “Tartan” to Ashdod – nothing to do with Samaria. Esarhaddon himself is mentioned, besides here, only in 2 Kgs 19:37, paralleled by Isa 37:38, as the son who succeeded the assassinated Sennacherib, with no indication that he ever had anything to do with Samaria. In fact, although it is possible, there is no external evidence that Esarhaddon settled deportees in Samaria either.9 In all probability, the author of Ezra 4, if he read 2 Kgs 17 at all, would have assumed that the king who brought the foreigners to Samaria was Shalmaneser. The fact that he cited Esarhaddon means that he was either citing a source that has been lost to us, or that he was being much more creative than would make sense.10 The same is true of “the great and noble Osnappar” (spelled “Asnappar” in some English translations) referred to in the letter cited in v. 10. Almost all modern scholars assume this to be a corruption of the name of Ashurbanipal, son of Esarhaddon and the last great ruler of the Neo-Assyrian Empire before its quick demise.11 Some connect the Elamites mentioned in the previous verse to Ashurbanipal’s ravaging of Elam after the so-called “civil war” of 652–648 b.c.e.,12 but once again, there is no evidence of his settling anyone in Samaria.13 To quote Grabbe, “Asnappar may be a reflex or corruption of Ashurbanipal (668–627 b.c.e.); if so, he could hardly be associated with the fall of Samaria some half a century earlier in 722 b.c.e. Either the writer has confused the data about the fall of Samaria, or he has a different tradition from the one in 2 Kgs 17, or he knows of an entirely different deportation under Ashurbanipal. Choos  8 At least that is the general consensus. See, for example, B. Becking, The Fall of Samaria: An Historical and Archaeological Study (SHANE 2; Leiden: Brill, 1992). For a different view, see Grabbe, Ezra-Nehemiah, 20: “The king who deported some of the population of Samaria was Shalmaneser V, though Sargon II takes credit for the deed in some of his inscriptions.”   9 Several commentators have attempted to find a historical setting for this mention of Esarhaddon; for example, Fensham, The Books of Ezra and Nehemiah, 66–67, cites D. J. Wiseman, “An Esarhaddon Cylinder from Nimrud,” Iraq 14 (1952), 54–60, who writes of a campaign of Esarhaddon to Sidon, and claims that “it is most likely that Northern Israel (Samaria) was also involved in the rebellion against the Assyrians.” See also Blenkinsopp, Ezra-Nehemiah, 107; Williamson, Ezra, 49–50. All of the above point to Isa 7:8, which mentions a devastation of Ephraim 65 years into the future, which, from c. 734 b.c.e. would bring us to 669, the last year of Esarhaddon’s reign. None of this, however, can be taken as actual evidence of a deportation from Samaria or from anywhere else during his reign. 10 One could of course make the claim that the author of Ezra 4:1–5 was actually referring to deportees brought by Esarhaddon to somewhere other than Samaria, since Samaria is actually not mentioned in this passage. This, however, would solve little, since we do not know of Esarhaddon bringing deportees to any other part of the country either. 11 See Williamson, Ezra, 55. 12 Such as A. K. Grayson, “Osnappar,” ABD 5.50. 13 Williamson, Ezra, 62.

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ing one of these three options over the others is not easy.”14 And, as Williamson has pointed out, the transcription of “Ashurbanipal” to “Osnappar” takes some creative corrupting. Grayson actually refers to some Greek codices of Ezra that have “Salmanassares,” i. e., Shalmaneser, instead.15 In fact, Josephus also names Shalmaneser (Ant. 11.2). My guess would be that both simply inferred from 2 Kgs 17 that “Osnappar” was Shalmaneser. None of this explains where the MT “Osnappar” came from, but in my opinion, this lectio difficilior, like the mention of Esarhaddon in v. 2, can be taken as a sign of the document’s basic authenticity. However, even if neither the story of the “adversaries” and their rejection or the letter to Artaxerxes are authentic, they still do reflect their authors’ mindsets. In any case, this brings us back to the original question: Why would the leaders of Samaria (and perhaps others in the case of “the adversaries”) in the early Persian Period, both when addressing the Jewish returnees with their offer to participate in the building of the Temple, and in their letter to Artaxerxes denouncing the returnees, choose to present themselves as the descendants of those foreigners whom the Assyrians had deported to Samaria two centuries earlier? In order to better answer this question, we have to take a look at the Assyrian deportation policies, as implemented during and after the conquest of Samaria in the late 8th century b.c.e. Fortunately, studies published over the years by scholars such as Bustenay Oded and Israel Eph’al have contributed greatly to our knowledge of Assyrian deportations, not only to and from Samaria, but throughout the empire. In his study of the use of mass deportations as a policy in the Neo-Assyrian Empire at large, Oded made the following points: mass deportations were employed by many Assyrian kings, but they became a basic tool of policy under Tiglath-pileser III, Sargon II, and Sennacherib, with Sargon perfecting the twoway method. The deportations were carried out both as punishment of rebellious vassal-kingdoms and provinces, but also as a preventive measure in order to weaken centers of resistance.16 In most cases in which the deportees are characterized in the inscriptions, they are described either as soldiers or as members of the royal families and royal courts of the conquered lands. In some cases they are listed as craftsmen while in only two cases they are listed as slaves.17 Deportees were often conscripted into the army, and, in fact, we know of entire units that were composed of deportees, including people from Samaria and Phi-

14 Grabbe, Ezra-Nehemiah, 20. Or, to quote Fried, Ezra, 206: “Osnappar may have been great and famous at one time, but now no one knows who he is!” 15 Grayson, “Osnappar,” 50. 16 B. Oded, Mass Deportations and Deportees in the Neo-Assyrian Empire (Wiesbaden: Reichert, 1979), 41–45. 17 Oded, Mass Deportations, 19–22.

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listia.18 Others served as a source of scribes, craftsmen and laborers.19 Most were brought to the major cities of Assyria, such as Kalḫu and Nineveh, but many to conquered lands as well,20 where they were used to populate under-populated areas and to work the land.21 They were often deported as families and communities, enabling them to function as such in their new lands.22 Finally, they tended to be loyal to the empire.23 In other words, by taking the priests, scribes, administrators, military men, and craftsmen from a conquered country, dispersing them in other conquered lands, and by replacing them with people with similar skills from other regions, the Assyrians metaphorically killed two birds with one stone. The leadership of a rebellious or potentially rebellious province was deported, leaving the local population with no royal family or priesthood around which to rally and no military apparatus with which to fight. Craftsmen, scribes, and soldiers all became part of the Assyrian military, bureaucracy, and economy, as individuals adapted to the new circumstances and gradually seized the opportunities available to improve their lot and that of their families. On the other hand, such individuals brought together in a conquered province could provide just the sort of “upper class” through which the Assyrians could ensure the continued functioning of that province as a revenue-earning economy,24 with a leadership that, bereft as it was of local ties, would have no reason to rebel and every reason to remain loyal. This is exactly the type of process that we see happening in Assyrian-ruled Samerina, after its final conquest in 720 b.c.e. The Assyrians, mostly under Sargon II, deported the royal family, court, scribes, priests, craftsmen, military, some of the village farmers, and anyone else who could either be considered a threat to the stability of the new province or of use to the empire in other areas. As shown by Ephʿal and others, there is epigraphic evidence of the dispersion of these Israelites over a wide area in the empire.25 In their place, the Assyrians, in a pro18 S. Dalley, “Foreign Chariotry and Cavalry in the Armies of Tiglath-pileser III and Sargon II,” Iraq 47 (1985), 31–48; Oded, Mass Deportations, 48–54; I. Ephʿal, “Assyrian Imperial Rule in Non-literary Documents Relating to the Territory ‘Beyond the River,’” in Israel and Its Land: Inscriptions and History – Proceedings of a Conference in Honor of Shmuel Aḥituv on the Occasion of His Retirement (ed. Z. Talshir; Beer-Sheva 19; Beer-Sheva: Ben Gurion University of the Negev Press, 2010), 44–45 (Heb. with Eng. abstract). 19 Oded, Mass Deportations, 54–58. 20 Oded, Mass Deportations, 27–32 21 Oded, Mass Deportations, 59–74. 22 Oded, Mass Deportations, 24–25. 23 Oded, Mass Deportations, 46–48. 24 For a slightly different view of Assyrian interests in the provinces, see A. Faust, “The Interests of the Assyrian Empire in the West: Olive Oil Production as a Test-Case,” JESHO 54 (2011), 62–86. 25 B. Oded, The Early History of the Babylonian Exile (8th–6th Centuries B. C. E.) (Haifa: Pardes, 2010), 85–97 [Heb.]; I. Ephʿal, “On the Identification of the Israelite Exiles in the Assyrian Empire,” in Excavations and Studies: Essays in Honour of Professor Shemuel Yeivin (ed. Y. Aharoni; Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University Institute of Archaeology and Carta, 1973), 201–203

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cess that seems to have taken several decades, brought in similar functionaries from other parts of the empire. These were settled both in the provincial capital, which seems not to have been significantly damaged, and, as shown by Zertal, in military and administrative complexes, mostly in the eastern parts of the province.26 Back in the 1980’s Zertal also identified Mesopotamian-style pottery with “wedge-shaped” decorations, in specific areas within the Samarian hill-country, which he considered to be evidence of Mesopotamian deportees living in these areas.27 However, as happened in other conquered lands, a certain portion of the local population, mostly villagers and the urban poor, were left behind to work the land and to produce revenue. At first, the two groups do not appear to have significantly intermixed. While we have no specific documentation, we can certainly assume that the “locals” considered the deportees to be part of the foreign conquering regime, brought in to take their lands and their produce, while the new administrators had little in common with the local villagers and would, in fact, have every reason to be loyal to their Assyrian overlords. On the whole, there is very little archaeological evidence for the presence of the various deportees, such as Babylonians, Cuthites, and Hamathites in Israel. At first glance this may be surprising as one would expect deported artisans to produce local versions of their own native material culture, as did the Aegean settlers in the early Iron Age. However, in a situation where small groups, predominantly consisting of urban elites, were forcibly deported by a powerful empire and settled in heterogeneous settings, they were apparently quick to emulate the ruling power’s material culture. This can perhaps be best explained when we consider that the deportees often remained a part of the Assyrian ruling apparatus. It is therefore possible that they linked their “new” identity to the imperial culture in an attempt to regain/maintain their former status and win a share of the proceeds of the empire. This matches what we know of other situations as well: our evidence for the various groups that were scattered throughout the Assyrian Empire is mostly onomastic, consisting of “ethnic” names found in documents in various places in the empire. The same is true of Judahite exiles in Babylon in the 6th century b.c.e.: we do not find Judahite material culture, but

[Heb. with Eng. abstract]; B. Oded, “The Settlements of the Israelite and the Judean Exiles in Mesopotamia in the 8th–6th Centuries b.c.e.,” in Studies in Historical Geography and Biblical Historiography Presented to Zecharia Kallai, (ed. G. Galil and M. Weinfeld; Leiden: Brill, 2000), 91–103; R. Zadok, “Israelites, Judeans and Iranians in Mesopotamia and Adjacent Regions,” in God’s Word for Our World, vol. 1 of Biblical Studies in Honor of Simon John De Vries (ed. J. H. Ellens et al.; London / ​New York: T & T Clark, 2004), 98–127. 26 A. Zertal, “The Province of Samaria (Assyrian Samerina) in the Late Iron Age (Iron Age III),” in Judah and the Judeans in the Neo-Babylonian Period (ed. O. Lipschits and J. Blenkinsopp; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2003), 387–395. 27 A. Zertal, “The Wedge-Shaped Decorated Bowl and the Origin of the Samaritans,” BASOR 276 (1989), 77–84.

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we do find Judahite names in documents.28 A similar situation was observed by Voskos and Knapp in early Iron Age Cyprus, in which the Aegean migrants did not preserve their specific various material cultures.29 However, as emphasized by Gosden in his critique of “classic” postcolonial theory (as formulated by Said, Spivak, Bhabha, and others), the reality is always that colonizers and “natives” can never remain fully separated.30 They must always influence each other. Following Foucault, Gosden wrote, “all participants in a colonial culture bring something of their own to the culture, all have agency and power to shape their world.”31 One sphere in which the two sides seem to have influenced each other is the cultic one. The story of the “partial conversion” recounted in 2 Kgs 17:25–41, if indeed based on fact, would reflect just the sort of “acclimatization” that one would expect of Iron-Age deportees: to adopt worship of the local deity in addition to those worshipped in their own lands. All this while the “natives” continued to worship their god, Yahweh, in whatever form they were accustomed to, yet also adapting to the new reality. The fact is that by the Persian Period, many, if not most of the people of Samaria were worshipping Yahweh, albeit in a way of which the Judahite writers of the Bible did not approve. Unfortunately, we have no specific knowledge of events in Samaria during the late 7th and early 6th centuries. If the biblical accounts are to be taken as historical, it would seem that the “Josianic reform” made some headway into Samaria, but this is debated and in any case would have been limited to the “native” elements. Since we do not know of any Samarian rebellions against the Neo-Babylonians or against the Persians, those empires would have presumably left Samaria’s provincial government as they found it. However, the descendants of the “importees” would have gradually lost their special status. They had, after all, been part of the Assyrian administration. By the beginning of Persian rule in 538 b.c.e., almost two centuries, five to eight generations, had passed since their arrival. Their political and economic situation would have changed. The empire that had brought them in and supported them was long gone. The “locals” would in the meanwhile have produced their own leadership, some would have improved their economic status, some would have acquired the skills of government. For a while, there might still have been animosity between the two groups, with the descendents of the “importees” trying to hold on to their privileged status. 28 For example, Oded, “The Settlements of the Israelite”; L. E. Pearce and C. Wunsch, Documents of Judean Exiles and West Semites in Babylonia in the Collection of David Sofer ­(CUSAS 28; Bethesda, MD: CDL, 2014). 29 I. Voskos and A. B. Knapp, “Cyprus at the End of the Late Bronze Age: Crisis and Colonization or Continuity and Hybridization?” AJA 112 (2008), 659–684. 30 C. Gosden, “Postcolonial Archaeology: Issues of Culture, Identity and Knowledge,” in Archeological Theory Today (ed. I. Hodder; Cambridge: Polity, 2001), 241–261, here 242–249. 31 Gosden, “Postcolonial Archaeology,” 243.

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And then, sometime after 538, along come a group of people from Babylonia, sent by the Persian government to resettle a depleted minor province and to rebuild a long-ruined temple. They, too, profess to worship Yahweh, the God of the land. They, too, apparently have difficulties with the “natives,” perhaps the ‫עם‬ ‫הארץ‬. There can be no doubt that there was a measure of tension between the descendants of those Judahites who had not been exiled and had held to the land throughout the past 50 years or so, and the returnees, coming in with their own version of Yahwism and with a royal firman. I would suggest that the descendants of the deportees to Samaria saw in the Judahite returnees a group very similar to their own long-ago selves: people sent by the ruling empire to settle a depleted land, who worshipped the local deity, but remained somewhat aloof from the local population, as may be seen a generation or so later in the “mixed marriage crises” of Ezra 9–10 and Neh 13. They may have considered the new arrivals to be natural allies. And so they approached them, emphasizing what they saw as their common characteristics: “we worship your God as you do, and we have been sacrificing to him ever since the days of King Esarhaddon of Assyria who brought us here” (Ezra 4:2). To their surprise and incredulity, they were rebuffed. The leadership of Judah and the leadership of Samaria became enemies, a state of affairs which would have repercussions for generations to come. As a postscript, I would mention that the letter to Artaxerxes seems to have been the Samarian deportees’ swansong. From the literary and epigraphic evidence, such as the Elephantine letters, the Wadi Daliyeh papyri, stamps, coins, and other epigraphic material, we know that by the later Persian Period there was no longer a group in Samaria that was known to be descended from deportees. The population of Samaria was at least assumed to be more homogeneous, developing into the group that we later know as the Samaritans.32 The same is true in Judah; by the end of the Persian Period, whatever tension there had been between the returnees and the descendants of those who had been left in the land was gone. The process of acculturation was complete. Internal and external conflict would now revolve around other issues.

32 For one of many reconstructions of this process see Y. Levin, “Bi-Directional Forced Deportations in the Neo-Assyrian Empire and the Origins of the Samaritans: Colonialism and Hybridity,” ARC 28.1 (2013), 217–240.

How to Identify a Persian Period Text in the Pentateuch Konrad Schmid The topic of this article pertains to the problems of dating biblical texts. As is well known, this area is contested and hotly debated in biblical studies, and it is very hard to rely on any kind of consensus.1 For some scholars, the Pentateuch does not include any Persian period texts, but was already (basically) complete in the early 6th century.2 For others, the Pentateuch is basically a product of the Persian or even Hellenistic period.3 The very fact that such highly divergent positions are maintained by serious scholars shows that there is no way of proving a Persian date for specific Pentateuchal texts. All we can do is assess the likelihood of competing theories. However, the importance of this assessment should not be underestimated. In 2013 and 2014, two conferences in Jerusalem regarding the composition and dating of the Pentateuch took place,4 and it became abundantly clear that the divergences in global Pentateuchal scholarship are far greater than the convergences. Scholars employ different methodologies for approaching the history of the Pentateuch, but in order to make progress that has a chance of moving the field forward, one must go back to the basics. Recently, Benjamin Sommer expressed a general reservation about the possibility of dating Pentateuchal texts by means of their ideological profile: 1 Cf. e. g., O. H. Steck, Old Testament Exegesis: A Guide to the Methodology (2nd ed.; Atlanta: SBL, 1998), 143–150. Some more recent contributions to the discussion of linguistic dating include D.-H. Kim, Early Biblical Hebrew, Late Biblical Hebrew, and Linguistic Variability: A Sociolinguistic Evaluation of the Linguistic Dating of Biblical Texts (VTSup 156; Leiden: Brill, 2013); C. Miller-Naudé and Z. Zevit (eds.), Diachrony in Biblical Hebrew (LSAWS 8; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2012); A. Hornkohl, “Biblical Hebrew: Periodization,” in Encyclopedia of Hebrew Language and Linguistics (ed. G. Khan; Leiden: Brill, 2014), 1:315–325; R. Rezetko and I. Young, Historical Linguistics and Biblical Hebrew: Steps Toward an Integrated Approach (ANEM 9; Atlanta: SBL, 2014). 2 Cf. e. g., I. Knohl, The Sanctuary of Silence (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995; repr. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2007); J. Stackert, A Prophet Like Moses: Prophecy, Law, and Israelite Religion (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 31–35. 3 Cf. the discussion e. g., in K. Schmid, “Der Abschluss der Tora als exegetisches und historisches Problem,” in Schriftgelehrte Traditionsliteratur: Fallstudien zur innerbiblischen Schriftauslegung im Alten Testament (FAT 77; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 159–184; T. Römer, “Der Pentateuch,” in Die Entstehung des Alten Testaments (ed. W. Dietrich et al.; ThW 1,1; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2014), 53–110. 4 Cf. J. C. Gertz et al. (eds.), The Formation of the Pentateuch: Bridging the Academic Cultures between Europe, Israel, and North America (FAT 111; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016).

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“In this article I make a very simple point concerning the dating of texts. It is odd that one needs to make this point; yet it does need to be made, because it pertains to a practice that is as common within biblical studies as it is specious. Scholars in our field frequently support a speculative dating of a text by asserting that, since the text’s ideas match a particular time-period especially well, the text was most likely composed then. […] According to this approach, a scholar ascertains the themes of a passage, then thinks about when that theme would be relevant, crucial, or meaningful to ancient Israelites, then dates the text to that time-period. It should be immediately clear that this method of dating holds no validity whatsoever.”5

It is clear that this argument includes some rhetorical flourish: “no validity whatsoever” is quite harsh. While there are abuses of the argument Sommer describes, this does not in principle preclude the possibility of dating texts based on their congruency with developments in the intellectual history of ancient Israel, which nowadays are not only based on reconstructions from the Bible itself. Therefore, the situation is not as hopeless as Sommer suggests, and it is indeed possible, with due caution, to determine a few guidelines.

I. The Pentateuch as a Pre-Hellenistic Text To start with, there is some evidence to argue that the Pentateuch is basically a pre-Hellenistic text. For most scholars this is well accepted, but in the overall landscape of biblical studies, it is not.6 The three most important arguments for establishing the Hellenistic period as a terminus ante quem for the Pentateuch are the following: First, the Septuagint translation of the five books of the Pentateuch (done by at least five different translators) can be dated to the mid-3rd century b.c.e.,7 a 5 B. D. Sommer, “Dating Pentateuchal Texts and the Perils of Pseudo-Historicism,” in The Pentateuch: International Perspectives on Current Research (ed. T. Dozeman et al.; FAT 78; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 85–108, 85. 6 Cf. e. g., N. P. Lemche, “The Old Testament – A Hellenistic Book?” SJOT 7 (1993), 163–193; repr. in Did Moses Speak Attic? Jewish Historiography and Scripture in the Hellenistic Period (ed. L. L. Grabbe; JSOTSup 317; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001), 287–318. 7 Cf. e. g., F. Siegert, Zwischen hebräischer Bibel und Altem Testament: eine Einführung in die Septuaginta (Münster: Lit, 2001), 42–43; M. Görg, “Die Septuaginta im Kontext spätägyptischer Kultur: Beispiele lokaler Inspiration bei der Übersetzungsarbeit am Pentateuch,“ in Im Brennpunkt: die Septuaginta: Studien zur Entstehung und Bedeutung der Griechischen Bibel (ed. H.J. Fabry and U. Offerhaus; BWA(N)T 153; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2002), 115–130; S. Kreuzer, “Entstehung und Entwicklung der Septuaginta im Kontext alexandrinischer und frühjüdischer Kultur und Bildung,” in Septuaginta Deutsch: Erläuterungen und Kommentare zum griechischen Alten Testament (ed. M. Karrer and W. Kraus; Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 2011), 3–39; S. Krauter, “Die Pentateuch-Septuaginta als Übersetzung in der Literaturgeschichte der Antike,” in Die Septuaginta und das frühe Christentum / ​The Septuagint and Christian Origins (ed. T. S. Caulley and H. Lichtenberger; WUNT 277; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 26–46; F. Albrecht, “Die alexandrinische Bibelübersetzung: Einsichten zur Entstehungs-, Überliefe-

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conclusion we reach in view of its Greek that resembles that of the Zenon papyri and in view of the links and commonalities especially with Demetrios.8 There are some differences, especially in the second tabernacle account in Exod 35–40,9 but the Septuagint basically attests the completed Pentateuch. Second, the books of Chronicles and Ezra-Nehemiah allude and refer to the Torah of Yhwh or the Torah of Moses. Although it is not fully clear whether the textual body envisioned here is the Pentateuch as we know it, the references point in that direction.10 Third, unlike some texts in the prophetic corpus (e. g., Isa 34:2–4),11 the Pentateuch does not imply the transience of heaven and earth. Heaven and earth are stable entities: in other words, the world will remain as it is forever. This major conceptual difference is best explained by assuming that the Pentateuch basically reflects the stable world order of the Persian period, whereas the prophets include historical experiences of the fall of that order and the political turmoil of the Hellenistic period.12 There are, however, a few exceptions regarding the pre-Hellenistic dating of the Pentateuch. The best candidate for a post-Persian, Hellenistic text in the Pentateuch seems to be the small “apocalypse” in Num 24:14–24, which in v. 24 mentions the victory of the ships of the ‫ כתים‬over Ashur and Eber. This text seems to allude to the battles between Alexander and the Persians, as some scholars suggested.13 Another set of post-Persian text elements might be the specific numrungs‑ und Wirkungsgeschichte der Septuaginta,” in Alexandria (ed. T. Georges et al.; COMES 1; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 209–243.   8 The oldest manuscript of the Greek Pentateuch is Papyrus Rylands 458, dating to the mid2nd century b.c.e., cf. J. W. Wevers, “The Earliest Witness to the LXX Deuteronomy,” CBQ 39 (1977), 240–244; K. de Troyer, “When Did the Pentateuch Come into Existence? An Uncomfortable Perspective,” in Die Septuaginta: Texte, Kontexte, Lebenswelten: Internationale Fachtagung veranstaltet von Septuaginta Deutsch (LXX.D), Wuppertal 20.-23. Juli 2006 (ed. M. Karrer and W. Kraus; WUNT 219; Tübingen, Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 269–286, 277; G. Dorival, “Les origins de la Septante: la traduction en grec des cinq livres de la Torah,” in La Bible grecque de Septante (ed. M. Harl et al.; Paris: Cerf, 1988), 39–82.   9 Cf. e. g., J. W. Wevers, “The Building of the Tabernacle,” JNSL 19 (1993), 123–131. 10 Cf. F. García López, “‫תורה‬,” TWAT 8:597–637, here 627–630; G. Steins, “Torabindung und Kanonabschluss: Zur Entstehung und kanonischen Funktion der Chronikbücher,” in Die Tora als Kanon für Juden und Christen (ed. E. Zenger; HBS 10; Freiburg: Herder, 1996), 213–256. 11 Cf. O. H. Steck, Bereitete Heimkehr: Jesaja 35 als redaktionelle Brücke zwischen dem Ersten und dem Zweiten Jesaja (SBS 121; Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1985), 52–54; W. A. M. Beuken, Jesaja 28–39 (HThKAT; Freiburg: Herder, 2010), 300–327. 12 Cf. O. H. Steck, Der Abschluss der Prophetie im Alten Testament: ein Versuch zur Frage der Vorgeschichte des Kanons (BThSt 17; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1991), 80–83. 13 Cf. H. Rouillard, La péricope de Balaam (Nombres 22–24) (EBib N. S. 4; Paris: Gabalda, 1985), 467; F. Crüsemann, Die Tora (Munich: Kaiser, 1992), 403; H.-C. Schmitt, “Der heidnische Mantiker als eschatologischer Jahweprophet: Zum Verständnis Bileams in der Endgestalt von Num 22–24,” in “Wer ist wie du, Herr, unter den Göttern?”: Studien zur Theologie und Religionsgeschichte Israels: Festschrift Otto Kaiser zum 80. Geburtstag (ed. I. Kottsieper et al.; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1994), 180–198, here 185.

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bers in the genealogies of Gen 5 and 11.14 These numbers build the overall chronology of the Pentateuch and differ significantly in the various versions. But these are just minor elements. The substance of the Pentateuch seems pre-Hellenistic. However, there is no comparable conclusive evidence that the Pentateuch is also basically pre-Persian. This is, however, contested by the linguistic approach to the Pentateuch.

II. The Linguistic Approach to Dating the Pentateuch In Sommer’s above-mentioned article on the problems of dating Pentateuchal texts, he is unwilling to accept dating on the basis of ideological or theological profiles, but at the end of his article, he is very sympathetic with methods of linguistic dating. He sees this method as the most promising – or even the only possible – approach for dating biblical texts, so we should have a look at this approach first. Since the seminal work of Wilhelm Gesenius,15 the project of linguistic dating is based on differentiating between Classical Biblical Hebrew (CBH) on the one hand and Late Biblical Hebrew (LBH) on the other. Classical Biblical Hebrew is usually seen as preexilic, Late Biblical Hebrew as postexilic.16 However, the debate about the conclusiveness of historical-linguistic arguments is only beginning. This is not the place to deal with this issue in a satisfactory way, but I would like to mention my main reservations about a too narrowly handled linguistic evaluation of the Pentateuch, which often coalesces with an overall preexilic dating.17 First, the fact that a text is written in CBH and not in LBH informs us primarily about its theological perspective within the biblical tradition and not, or at 14 Cf. J. Hughes, Secrets of the Times: Myth and History in Biblical Chronology (JSOTSup 66; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1990); see the reservations of R. Hendel, “A Hasmonean Edition of MT Genesis? The Implications of the Editions of the Chronology in Genesis 5,” HeBAI 1 (2012), 448–464, against a dating of the numbers in MT in the 2nd century b.c.e. 15 W. Gesenius, Geschichte der hebräischen Sprache und Schrift (Leipzig: Vogel, 1815); cf. S. Schorch and E.-J. Waschke (eds.), Biblische Exegese und hebräische Lexikographie. das “Hebräisch-deutsche Handwörterbuch” von Wilhelm Gesenius als Spiegel und Quelle alttestamentlicher und hebräischer Forschung, 200 Jahre nach seiner ersten Auflage (BZAW 427; Berlin / ​ Boston: de Gruyter, 2013). 16 See above n. 1. 17 See e. g., G. A. Rendsburg, “Pentateuch, Linguistic Layers in the,” EHLL 2:60–63, here 63: “In sum, the main body of the Torah is written in Standard Biblical Hebrew, which represents the language of Judah during the monarchy (both early and late). A few chapters employ the technique known as style-switching, in order to create an Aramean environment. Some poems within the prose text reflect an older stratum of Hebrew and may hark back to a poetic epic tradition. And a few passages, especially those concerning the northern tribes, contain elements of Israelian Hebrew. Most importantly, there are no indications of Late Biblical Hebrew in the Pentateuch.”

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least not directly, about its historical date. To oversimplify my case for a moment: CBH texts are mainly Torah-oriented, whereas LBH texts are not, or not to the same extent. Second, there is a significant gap in the external, non-biblical corpora for Hebrew from the 6th to 2nd centuries b.c.e.: There are many inscriptions from that period, but they are in Aramaic, not in Hebrew. Therefore, we are not able to define a clear terminus ante quem for CBH from the external evidence. This terminus ante quem could be in the 6th century, but it could also be later. Third, there is a basic asymmetry between the methods used by linguists to date CBH texts on the one hand and LBH texts on the other. Biblical texts written in CBH belong, according to them, to the timeframe of the 8th to 6th century because the external evidence dates to that period. The external evidence for LBH is mainly found in the texts from the Dead Sea Scrolls from the 2nd and 1st centuries b.c.e., but the biblical texts and books written in LBH, like Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, Daniel and Esther, are dated by linguists much earlier because they are, at least in part and for a variety of reasons, obviously older than the 2nd or 1st century. Therefore, the arguments regarding LBH show at minimum that a multitude of arguments need to be considered when dating biblical texts, and what seems fair for LBH should also be accepted for CBH. Fourth, an important argument by those who favor a generally preexilic date for the Pentateuch is the absence of Persian loanwords. We are told that if the Pentateuch were to contain texts from the Persian period, then Persian loanwords would be expected in the texts. There are not any such loanwords. How significant is this?18 Apparently, this argument is not very strong. To begin with, there are very few Persian loanwords in the Hebrew Bible as a whole.19 Admittedly, no Persian loanword can be found in the Pentateuch, but why should we expect the case to be otherwise? It is necessary here to recall the specific narrative setting of the Pentateuch. The Pentateuch basically plays out in the 2nd millennium b.c.e., in the period before David, Solomon, the Assyrians, the Babylonians, and, of course, the Persians. The fact that the Pentateuch itself is aware of this historicized scenery is most clearly evident from the fact that the Pentateuch refrains from mentioning Jerusalem, especially in Gen 14 and 22,20 and in Deuteronomy. 18 M. Eskhult, “The importance of loanwords for dating Biblical Hebrew texts,” in Biblical Hebrew: Studies in Chronology and Typology (ed. I. Young; London / ​New York: T & T Clark, 2003), 8–23. 19 Cf. e. g., ‫‘ אדרכן‬Daric’ (Ezra 8:27; 1 Chr 29:7); ‫‘ אחשׁדּרפּנים‬satraps’ (e. g., Esth 8:9); ‫גּזבּר‬ ‘treasurer’ (Ezra 1:8); ‫‘ גּנזים‬treasury’ (e. g., Est 3:9); ‫‘ גּנזך‬treasury’ (1 Chr 28:11); ‫‘ דּת‬command, decree’ (e. g., Esth 1:13); ‫‘ פּתגם‬edict, sentence’ (Qoh 8:11; Esth 1:20); ‫‘ פּתשׁגן‬copy’ (e. g., Esth 3:14); cf. A Hurvitz, “Biblical Hebrew, Late.” EHLL 1:329–338, here 331. 20 Cf. K. Baltzer, “Jerusalem in den Erzväter-Geschichten der Genesis? Traditionsgeschichtliche Erwägungen zu Gen 14 und 22,” in Die Hebräische Bibel und ihre zweifache Nachgeschichte. Festschrift für Rolf Rendtorff zum 65. Geburtstag (ed. E. Blum; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1990), 3–12.

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Therefore, Persian loanwords are not to be expected. The Pentateuch employs a language corresponding to its narrative setting. A fifth argument by Hebraists for an early (i. e., preexilic) dating of CBH texts is the idea that it is impossible to reproduce real CBH in later times without slipups. The problem with this argument is a very fundamental methodological one: it is a priori and therefore not falsifiable. If a biblical text is written in clear and flawless CBH, then it is by definition preexilic because otherwise it would not be in correct CBH. In such an argument, the possibility of a late text in correct CBH is excluded as impossible from the outset. It therefore just begs the question, if CBH is determined as being copy-safe.21 Of course, languages evolve over time, but in a learned elite idiom like CBH, a certain degree of inertness is likely. Taken together, the validity of a linguistic approach to dating the Pentateuch should not be denied, but it is necessary to caution against using linguistic dating alone for dating issues. It should be employed in conjunction with other data and perspectives, such as theological profiles, intertextual links, as well as geographical and archaeological information.22 The general problem in this discussion is that there is insufficient interaction between Hebraists and biblical scholars and that different, even conflicting, methods and results about how to date Pentateuchal texts end up somewhat insulated from each other.

III. Observations from Historical Geography and the History of Religion When accounting for some very basic observations about the geographical and religious shape of the Pentateuch, the odds of an overall preexilic date are slim. To be sure, for a variety of reasons the Pentateuch is likely to include a significant amount of literary material that goes back to the 9th through the 7th century b.c.e., especially in the realm of the patriarchal narratives.23 In Gen 12–36, the texts seem to be multilayered, and even some of the later layers do not seem to 21 Cf. in more detail E. Blum, “The Linguistic Dating of Biblical Texts – An Approach with Methodological Limitations,” in The Formation of the Pentateuch: Bridging the Academic Cultures Between Europe, Israel, and North America (ed. J. C. Gertz et al.; FAT 111; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 303–326, here 312. 22 Cf. Steck, Old Testament Exegesis, 143–150. 23 Cf. e. g., E. Blum, Die Komposition der Vätergeschichte (WMANT 57; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1984), 66–203; A. de Pury, “The Jacob Story and the Beginning of the Formation of the Pentateuch,” in Die Patriarchen und die Priesterschrift: Les Patriarches et le document sacerdotal. gesammelte Studien zu seinem 70. Geburtstag. Recueil d‘articles, à l‘occasion de son 70e anniversaire (ATANT 99; Zürich: TVZ, 2010), 147–169; E. Blum, “The Jacob Tradition,” in The Book of Genesis. Composition, Reception, and Interpretation (ed. C. A. Evans; VTSup 152; Leiden: Brill, 2012), 181–211; A. de Pury, “Die Erzelternerzählungen,” in Einleitung in das Alte Testament. die Bücher der hebräischen Bibel und die alttestamentlichen Schriften der katholischen, protestantischen und orthodoxen Kirchen (ed. T. Römer et al.; Zürich: TVZ, 2013), 196–216;

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presuppose the Deuteronomic centralization of the cult – e. g., Jacob’s vow in Bethel to tithe the tenth to the sanctuary of Bethel in Gen 28:22.24 Some of the texts probably even emerge from a much older oral pre-history. But the overall organization and outlook of the Pentateuch seems to be a product of the exilic period at the earliest. Why? Let me first introduce a well-accepted methodological principle for a historical and critical approach to the Bible that was formulated some 100 years ago by Ernst Troeltsch, one of the champions of 19th and early 20th century historical scholarship.25 Troeltsch claimed basically that three methodological steps are required for assessing biblical texts historically. In his language, the steps are “critique,” “analogy,” and “correlation.” And indeed, if we evaluate Pentateuchal texts critically, if we try to find analogies to them, and if we correlate these findings to each other, then I expect that we will reach some basic conclusions. Just one example from historical geography and one from the history of religion must suffice for providing a general guideline. Both are very fundamental in nature and in European scholarship they are basically uncontested, but they seem to be unacceptable for scholars who stress the intellectual and historical singularity of the Pentateuch. First, it is conspicuous in terms of geography that the Pentateuch’s storyline unfolds largely outside of Israel – a point that holds true not only for Exodus through Deuteronomy, but also for Gen 1–11 and parts of Gen 37–50. The fact that Gen 12–36 is an exception in this regard demonstrates again the specific nature of that narrative complex, which, as mentioned above, probably contains the earliest textual material in the Pentateuch.26 Of course, the traditional explanation of its mainly allochthonous character was that the Pentateuch, especially the Exodus story, reworks ancient memories of Israel’s journey out of Egypt.27 This explanation is probably true to a certain extent, but the large amount of texts allotted to that period, especially all of the legal material, is very striking. The Pentateuch reports the legal basis of Israel being delivered at Mount Sinai, in the middle of nowhere between Egypt and Israel. Therefore, in agreement with David Clines, we can state that the Pentateuch is, in terms of the basic shape of its content, “an exilic work.”28 This view can be corI. Finkelstein, The Forgotten Kingdom. Archaeology and History of Northern Israel (ANEM 5; Atlanta: SBL, 2013), 141–144. 24 Cf. K. Schmid, “Der Pentateuch und seine Theologiegeschichte,” ZTK 111 (2014), 239– 271, 245–250. 25 E. Troeltsch, “Über historische und dogmatische Methode in der Theologie,” in Zur religiösen Lage, Religionsphilosophie und Ethik: Gesammelte Schriften (Vol. 2; Tübingen: Mohr, 1913), 728–753 (ET available at: http://faculty.tcu.edu/grant/hhit/). 26 See n. 24. 27 Cf. R. Hendel, “The Exodus in Biblical Memory,” JBL 120 (2001), 601–622. 28 D. J. A. Clines, The Theme of the Pentateuch (2nd ed.; JSOTSup 10; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997), 103–104.

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roborated with respect to Mount Sinai, if we look for a moment at the traditions of a holy mountain in the preexilic portions of First Isaiah or the Psalms: Here, Mount Zion is Israel’s holy mountain, not Mount Sinai. This is not to say that Mount Sinai is only an exilic invention intended to replace the destroyed Mount Zion, as e. g., Henrik Pfeiffer holds.29 Maybe – even probably – there are older traditions about Mount Sinai in the Bible, but the extensive reworking of the Sinai tradition in the Pentateuch seems to be an exilic phenomenon at the earliest. Second, there is a basic observation from the history of religion. The Pentateuch is a decidedly monotheistic text. It opens with an inclusive monotheistic text in Gen 1, and it argues broadly in an exclusive monotheistic fashion in the context of the Moses story.30 There may be some older residues like Deut 32:8–9 (which I doubt),31 but this fact does not affect the overall picture. If we look for analogies outside the Pentateuch, then the following points are important: First, there is no epigraphic evidence for a fully developed monotheism in Israel in the monarchic period (to the contrary, cf. Kuntillet ʽAjrud32). We see instead that Yhwh is the God of Israel and Judah as Chemosh is for Moab and as Qauṣ is for Edom. Secondly, the earliest attestations for a datable monotheistic position in the Bible can be found in Isa 45:1–7.33 Of course, biblical monotheism was not invented in the exilic period;34 however, its developed outline in the Pentateuch seems to belong to this period rather Jahwes Kommen vom Süden: Jdc 5; Hab 3; Dtn 33 und Ps 68 in ihrem literatur‑ und theologiegeschichtlichen Umfeld (FRLANT 211; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2005); but cf. M. Leuenberger, “Jhwhs Herkunft aus dem Süden: Archäologische Befunde – biblische Überlieferungen – historische Korrelationen,” ZAW 122 (2010), 1–19. 30 Cf. K. Schmid, “Differenzierungen und Konzeptualisierungen der Einheit Gottes in der Religions‑ und Literaturgeschichte Israels. Methodische, religionsgeschichtliche und exegetische Aspekte zur neueren Diskussion um den sogenannten ‘Monotheismus’ im antiken Israel,” in Der eine Gott und die Götter: Polytheismus und Monotheismus im antiken Israel (ed. M. Oeming and K. Schmid; ATANT 82; Zürich: TVZ, 2003), 11–38. 31 K. Schmid, “Gibt es ,Reste hebräischen Heidentums‘ im Alten Testament? Methodische Überlegungen anhand von Dtn 32,8f und Ps 82,” in Primäre und sekundäre Religion als Kategorie der Religionsgeschichte des Alten Testaments (ed. A. Wagner; BZAW 364; Berlin / ​New York: de Gruyter, 2006), 105–120. 32 See Z. Meshel, Kuntillet ʽAjrud (Ḥorvat Teman): An Iron Age II Religious Site on the JudahSinai Border (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2012). 33 Cf. e. g., F. Stolz, Einführung in den biblischen Monotheismus (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1996); M. Weippert, “Synkretismus und Monotheismus: Religionsinterne Konfliktbewältigung im alten Israel,” in Jahwe und die anderen Götter: Studien zur Religionsgeschichte des antiken Israel in ihrem syrisch-palästinischen Kontext (FAT 18; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997), 1–24; E. Zenger, “Der Monotheismus Israels: Entstehung – Profil – Relevanz,” in Ist der Glaube Feind der Freiheit? die neue Debatte um den Monotheismus (ed. T. Söding; QD 196; Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 2003), 9–52; M. Leuenberger, “Ich bin Jhwh und keiner sonst.” Der exklusive Monotheismus des Kyros-Orakels Jes 45,1–7 (SBS 224; Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 2010). 34 Cf. O. Keel, Die Geschichte Jerusalems und die Entstehung des Monotheismus (2 vols.; OLB VI, 1; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2007). 29 H. Pfeiffer,

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than to an earlier one, at least if we employ Troeltsch’s methodology of critique, analogy, and correlation. Another important point is that a more traditional and earlier dating of Pentateuchal texts also leads to a completely different reconstruction of Israel’s intellectual history in the preexilic period. Israel then is not in continuity, but in discontinuity with all the neighboring temple cults, and the epigraphical evidence simply pertains to a deviant folk practice. Such a position relies on the Bible more than on a critical assessment of it. Of course, the Bible offers more than simply the historical and critical methodology put forth by Troeltsch, but a historical approach to the Pentateuch cannot do without Troeltsch.35

IV. The Date of the Priestly Code The possible identification of Persian material in the Pentateuch depends above all on how one dates the so-called Priestly texts (in short: P). P is employed more and more as a historically fixed point in reconstructions of the Pentateuch’s composition. Therefore, if texts are identified as post-P, and P is early Persian, then this post-P material belongs at the earliest to the Persian period as well. Astonishingly, there is no fundamental dispute about P and the texts that should be assigned to it,36 besides the open question of its alleged original end.37 However, its date is unclear. 35 See

n. 25. the standard text assignments by K. Elliger, “Sinn und Ursprung der priesterlichen Geschichtserzählung,” ZTK 49 (1952), 121–143; repr. in Kleine Schriften zum Alten Testament (ed. H. Gese and O. Kaiser; TB 32; Munich: Kaiser, 1966), 174–198; N. Lohfink, “Die Priesterschrift und die Geschichte,” in Congress Volume Göttingen 1977 (ed. J. A. Emerton; VTSup 29; Leiden: Brill, 1978), 183–225; repr. in Studien zum Pentateuch (SBAB 4; Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1988), 213–253; E. Otto, “Forschungen zur Priesterschrift,” TR 62 (1997), 1–50. For a position against P as a source in Exodus see C. Berner, Die Exoduserzählung (FAT 73; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010); see, however, my review in ZAW 123 (2010), 292–294; R. Albertz, Exodus 1–18 (ZBK 2.1; Zürich: TVZ, 2012), 10–26. J. Wöhrle, Fremdlinge im eigenen Land: zur Entstehung und Intention der priesterlichen Passagen der Vätergeschichte (FRLANT 246; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2012), holds a similar position for Gen 12–50. 37 The debate regarding the original end of P arose especially in the wake of L. Perlitt, “Priesterschrift im Deuteronomium?” in Deuteronomium-Studien (FAT  8; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1994), 123–143. Proposals include seeing the literary end at either Exod 29 (E. Otto, “Forschungen zur Priesterschrift,” TR 62 [1997], 1–50), Exod 40 (T. Pola, Die ursprüngliche Priesterschrift: Beobachtungen zur Literarkritik und Traditionsgeschichte von Pg [WMANT 70; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Nekirchner Verlag, 1995]; R. G. Kratz, Die Komposition der erzählenden Bücher des Alten Testaments [UTB 2157; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000], 102–117; M. Bauks, “La signification de l’espace et du temps dans l’‘historiographie sacerdotale,’” in The Future of the Deuteronomistic History [ed. T. Römer; BETL 147; Leuven: Peeters, 2000], 29–45), Lev 9 (E. Zenger, “Priesterschrift,” TRE 27:435–46; idem., Einleitung in das Alte Testament [5th ed.; Studienbücher Theologie 1,1; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2004], 156–75), Lev 16 (M. Köckert, Leben in Gottes Gegenwart: Studien zum Verständnis des Gesetzes im Alten Testament [FAT 43; 36 See

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Scholars who rely on linguistic arguments and who adhere to the classical paradigm of linguistic dating tend to date P in the preexilic period. Nevertheless, this conclusion is highly contested. Avi Hurvitz and Jacob Milgrom38 are in favor of an early date on linguistic grounds, while Joseph Blenkinsopp and Baruch Levine,39 for instance, evaluate the evidence differently. It is not possible to solve this problem here, especially in light of more recent discussions of P that have made clear, on the one hand, that we probably need to distinguish between the legal and narrative portions when dating P-texts and, on the other hand, that dating P cannot just mean pinning down one single point in history for these texts. The P material seems to have grown over some time.40 Nevertheless, I would like to present some observations for why, firstly, the main narrative of P is not likely to predate the early Persian period and, secondly, that texts dependent on these portions of P may therefore be confidently assigned to the Persian period as well. A. Linguistic Findings The linguistic evidence for an early, i. e., preexilic date for P is anything but conclusive, as has been shown, first of all, by the general arguments mentioned above. In addition, there are some linguistic observations which – with all due caution – even support a Persian period setting.

Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004], 105; C. Nihan, From Priestly Torah to Pentateuch: A Study in the Composition of the Book of Leviticus [FAT 25; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006], 20–68) or Num 27 (J.-L. Ska, “Le récit sacerdotal: Une ‘histoire sans fin’?” in The Books of Leviticus and Numbers  [ed. T. Römer; BETL 215; Leuven: Peeters, 2008], 631–653). A staggering number of endings within the Priestly document between Exod 40 and Lev 26 are suggested by J. C. Gertz (ed.), Grundinformation Altes Testament (2nd ed.; UTB 2745; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2007), 236; C. Frevel, Mit Blick auf das Land die Schöpfung erinnern (HBS 23; Freiburg: Herder, 2000), supports the traditional conclusion in Deut 34 (cf. L. Schmidt, Studien zur Priesterschrift [BZAW 214; Berlin / ​New York: de Gruyter, 1993], 271; P. Weimar, Studien zur Priesterschrift [FAT 56; Tübingen: Mohr, 2008], 17); J. Blenkinsopp, “The Structure of P,” CBQ 38 (1976), 275–292; N. Lohfink, “Die Priesterschrift und die Geschichte,” (above, this note); P. Guillaume, Land and Calendar: The Priestly Document from Genesis 1 to Joshua 18 (LHBOTS 391; London / ​New York: T & T Clark, 2009), see the conclusion of Pg in Joshua. 38 Cf. J. Milgrom, “The Antiquity of the Priestly Source: A Reply to Joseph Blenkinsopp,” ZAW 111 (1999), 10–22; A. Hurvitz, “Once Again: The Linguistic Profile of the Priestly Material in the Pentateuch and its Historical Age: A Response to J. Blenkinsopp,” ZAW 112 (2000), 180–191. 39 Cf. J. Blenkinsopp, “An Assessment of the Alleged Pre-Exilic Date of the Priestly Material in the Pentateuch,” ZAW 108 (1996), 495–518; B. A. Levine, Numbers 1–20 (AB 4A; New York: Doubleday, 1993). 40 Cf. R. Rendtorff, “Two Kinds of P? Some Reflections on the Occasion of the Publishing of Jacob Milgrom’s Commentary on Leviticus 1–16,” JSOT 60 (1993), 75–81; R. G. Kratz, Historisches und biblisches Israel: drei Überblicke zum Alten Testament (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 162–163.

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P is basically written in what is identified as CBH, but there are some linguistic features that do not match the picture.41 To name the two most obvious examples, for the 1st person singular pronoun, P usually employs ‫ אני‬instead of ‫אנכי‬. This suggests that P is a transitional text between CBH and LBH. Another example is the word, ‫“ רכוש‬possession,” that is used by P, for instance, in Gen 12:5; 13:6, 46:6. It is otherwise only attested in Daniel, Ezra, Chronicles, the postP parts of Numbers, and Gen 14 and 15. Another example of a LBH feature of the extended P material is the use of the word ‫דגל‬, “banner,” in Num 1–10, which suggest a late date for these texts. Given these elements, it is likely that P is to be situated toward the end of CBH, and given the lack of external corpora from the 6th and 5th centuries for CBH, a date in the neo-Babylonian or the Persian period is not excluded. B. P and Ezekiel The frequent comparison of P-texts with Ezekiel does not compete with such a conclusion. Texts from the book of Ezekiel do not center around a fixed point in the history of ancient Israel. They do not belong per se to the time of the historical prophet Ezekiel, as e. g., Moshe Greenberg held.42 On the contrary, the book of Ezekiel is a very complex literary entity that grew into its present form over some time. The observable links between P and Ezekiel even hint that P was often on the receiving end of the literary connection. A very good example, to my mind, is the reception of Ezek 7 (in combination with Amos 8) in Gen 6:13, an undisputed P text. God’s statement here that “the end has come” is very close to Ezek 7:2–3 and seems to allude to it, in order to demonstrate: Yes, there was an end of the world decreed by God, but this crisis has been resolved. It happened a very long time ago and has been settled by God once and for all. In order to interact subversively with the biblical prophecy of doom, P transformed Ezek 7 from a divine statement about the present into a primeval action, as Thomas Pola has pointed out again recently.43

41 Cf.

the discussions in n. 38 and 39. Ezekiel 1–20 (AB 22A; New York: Doubleday, 1983); Ezekiel 21–37 (AB 22B; New York: Doubleday, 1995); German translation 2001, 2005. 43 T. Pola, “Back to the Future: The Twofold Priestly Concept of History,” in Torah and the Book of Numbers (ed. C. Frevel et al.; FAT 62; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 39–65; see also R. Smend, “‘Das Ende ist gekommen’: Ein Amoswort in der Priesterschrift,” in Die Botschaft und die Boten: Festschrift für Hans Walter Wolff zum 70. Geburtstag (ed. J. Jeremias and L. Perlitt; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1981), 67–74; repr. as Die Mitte des Alten Testaments: Exegetische Aufsätze (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), 238–243; J. Gertz, “Noah und die Propheten: Rezeption und Reformulierung eines altorientalischen Mythos,” Deutsche Vierteljahrsschrift für Literaturwissenschaft und Geistesgeschichte 81 (2007), 503–522. 42 Cf. M. Greenberg,

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C. Cultural and Political Realities Reflected in P Finally, there are some specific cultural and political realities reflected in P that corroborate an early Persian setting. The first element is the term ‫“ מכנסים‬trousers” mentioned in Exod 28:42; 39:28; Lev 6:3; 16:4 and Ezek 44:18. Relying especially on Peter Calmeyer,44 David Sperling has pointed out that “trousers” seem to be a Persian innovation in the ancient Near East.45 This point about “trousers” may seem rather trivial, but it is nevertheless noteworthy. Probably more conclusive is the evidence concerning P’s political geography. In Gen 10, a very general element is the pluralistic conception of the world as portrayed in the table of nations, which corresponds neither to NeoAssyrian nor to Neo-Babylonian, but rather to Persian imperial policy.46 Another observation is the status of Egypt in P. P has a very inclusive and pacifistic world view, with one single exception: Egypt. The Egyptian army is especially the target of God’s violence in Exod 14, where the army is drowned in the sea – a striking and exceptional element in P’s narrative. According to Gen 9, God renounces violence and there is no other instance in P akin to Exod 14, where God is portrayed as destructive. Why is this so? The victory over Egypt’s army in Exod 14 is portrayed as God’s means of establishing his ‫“ כבוד‬glory,” which later plays an important role in P but does not occur prior to Exod 14.47 Apparently, only after Egypt is defeated is God’s glory ultimately established and present in the world. Albert de Pury has suggested that this specific stance toward Egypt might reflect P’s historical position in the early Persian period, prior to the Persian conquest of Egypt in 525 b.c.e. by Cambyses.48 44 P. Calmeyer, “Hose,” RlA 4:472: “Fast bis zum Ende der altorientalischen Kultur ist die Hose ganz unbekannt geblieben; sie taucht erst in deren letzter Periode, der achaemenidischen, plötzlich und in vielerlei Varianten auf, und zwar ausschliesslich bei Völkern der nordwestlichen, nördlichen und nordöstlichen Randgebiete, die zum Teil erst jetzt in die Sphäre dieser Kultur geraten waren.” 45 See D. Sperling, “Pants, Persians and the Priestly Source,” in Ki Baruch Hu: Ancient Near Eastern, Biblical, and Judaic Studies in Honor of Baruch A. Levine (ed. R. Chazan et al.; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2003), 373–385. 46 J. G. Vink, “The Date and the Origin of the Priestly Code in the Old Testament,” in The Priestly Code and Seven Other Studies (ed. J. G. Vink et al.; OTS 52; Leiden: Brill, 1969), 1–144, here 61; A. de Pury, “Sem, Cham et Japhet: De la fraternité à l’esclavage?” in κορυφαίῳ ἀνδρί: Mélanges offerts à André Hurst (ed. A. Kolde et al.; Geneva: Droz, 2005), 495–508; E. A. Knauf, “Die Priesterschrift und die Geschichten der Deuteronomisten,” in Tue Future of the Deuteronomistic History (ed. T. Römer; BETL 147; Leuven: Peeters, 2008), 104–105; Nihan, From Priestly Torah, 383. 47 Cf. T. Wagner, Gottes Herrlichkeit. Bedeutung und Verwendung des Begriffs kābôd im Alten Testament (VTSup 151; Leiden / ​Boston: Brill, 2012). 48 A. de Pury, “Pg as the Absolute Beginning,” in Les dernières rédactions du Pentateuque, de l’Hexateuque et de l’Ennéateuque (T. Römer and K. Schmid; BETL 203; Leuven: Peeters, 2007), 99–128 ; repr. in Die Patriarchen und die Priesterschrift: Les Patriarches et le document sacerdotal: Gesammelte Studien zu seinem 70. Geburtstag: Recueil d’articles, à l’occasion de son 70e anniversaire (ATANT 99; Zürich: TVZ, 2010), 13–42.

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Finally, a more concrete aspect in that respect is that in P, the miracle at the sea plays out “in front of Ba’al Zaphon” (Exod 14:2). This denotes the sanctuary of Zeus Casios that is mentioned by Herodotus (II, 6, 158: III, 5). It is usually identified with Ras Qasrun on the sandbar of the Sabakhet (Sabkhat) el Bardawil. As early as 1990, G. I. Davies noted that there are no relevant pre-Persian remnants at Ras Qasrun, an observation that supports a Persian setting for P’s exodus account.49

V. The Date of the Holiness Code (Lev 17–26) The so-called Holiness Code (H) is also written in CBH and, for this reason, some scholars attribute it to the monarchic period.50 For a variety of reasons, this conclusion is not tenable, but will remain contested. Nevertheless, it is possible to establish a relative date with regard to P. H presupposes and re-conceptualizes the theology of P. The best case for this has been made by Norbert Lohfink.51 Gen 17:6–7

Lev 26:3, 9–13

I will make you exceedingly fruitful; and I will make nations of you, and kings shall come from you. I will establish my covenant between me and you, and your offspring after you throughout their generations, for an everlasting covenant, to be God to you and to your offspring after you.

If you follow my statutes and keep my commandments and observe them faithfully, (9) I will look with favor upon you and make you fruitful and multiply you; and I will maintain my covenant with you. […] I will place my dwelling in your midst, and I shall not abhor you. And I will walk among you, and will be your God, and you shall be my people. I am Yhwh your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt, to be their slaves no more; I have broken the bars of your yoke and made you walk erect.

Exod 6:4–7 I also established my covenant with them […] I will free you from the burdens of the Egyptians and deliver you from slavery 49 G. I. Davies, “The Wilderness Itineraries and Recent Archaeological Research,” in Studies in the Pentateuch (ed. J. A. Emerton; VTSup 41; Leiden: Brill 1990), 161–175; cf. for the evidence M. Dothan, “Archaeological Survey of Mt. Casius and its Vicinity,” ErIsr 9 (1969), 47–60 (Heb.). 50 Knohl, The Sanctuary of Silence, 199–230. 51 N. Lohfink, “Die Abänderung der Theologie des priesterlichen Geschichtswerks im Segen des Heiligkeitsgesetzes. Zu Lev. 26,9.11–13,” in Wort und Geschichte: Festschrift für Karl Elliger zum 70. Geburtstag (ed. Hartmut Gese and Hans Peter Rüger; AOAT 18; Kevelaer: Butzon & Bercker, and Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1973), 129–136; repr. in Studien zum Pentateuch (SBAB 4; Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1988), 157–168.

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to them. I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and with mighty acts of judgment. I will take you as my people, and I will be your God. You shall know that I am Yhwh your God, who has freed you from the burdens of the Egyptians. Exod 29:45–46 I will dwell among the Israelites, and I will be their God. And they shall know that I am Yhwh their God, who brought them out of the land of Egypt that I might dwell among them; I am Yhwh their God.

It is quite evident that Lev 26 takes up important concepts and wording from central – and antecedent – P texts, especially Gen 17 and Exod 6. Whereas the promises in P are unconditional, H introduces them with the protatsis “If you follow my statutes and keep my commandments and observe them faithfully” (Lev 26:3), which is tantamount to “Deuteronomizing” the Priestly theology. H seems to presuppose both P and D and combines their ideologies. This post-P setting for H enjoys consensus among those who allow for a P-Hdistinction.52 But if one dates P to the monarchic period, then it would be possible to do the same for H. However, as mentioned before, a preexilic date for P, especially its narrative framework, is difficult to maintain, meaning that a Persian period setting is just as likely for H as it is for P. At this point, a forgotten pioneer of post-P additions in the Pentateuch should be mentioned. In his 1862 book on Exod 35–40, Julius Popper identified several late additions to the construction report of the tent of meeting. His method relied especially on comparing the different textual witnesses, such as the Septuagint and the Samaritan Pentateuch, with the Masoretic text.53

VI. The Case of Genesis 24 One of the clearest cases of a Persian period text in the Pentateuch is Gen 24 that can be discussed here only very briefly. It is a text that is difficult to link with a broader stratum or layer detectable elsewhere. In several publications, Alexander Rofé has made a case for this date, and a detailed analysis of the text can be found in his contributions.54 52 E. Blum, Studien zur Komposition des Pentateuch (BZAW 189; Berlin / ​New York: de Gruyter 1990), 318–332, sees the material usually assigned to H as an integral part of P. 53 J. Popper, Der biblische Bericht über die Stiftshütte: ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Composition und Diaskeue des Pentateuch (Leipzig: Hunger, 1862). 54 The most comprehensive of his arguments can be found in A. Rofé, “An Enquiry into the

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The main arguments are the following: First, Gen 24:3, 7 employ the title ‫ השמים אלהי‬for God (cf. LXX, which aligns 24:7 with 24:3). In the Hebrew Bible, this formula can be found elsewhere only in Jonah 1:9; Ezra 1:2; Neh 1:4–5; 2:4, 20; 2 Chr 36:23, all these texts probably belong to the Persian period. In Aramaic, the title ‫ שמיא אלה‬is employed in Dan 2:18, 19, 37, 44; Ezra 5:(11), 12; 6:9–10; 7:12, 21, 23. It is also attested at Elephantine: AP 27:15; 30:28; 30:2, (15,) 28; 31:(2,) 27; 32:4; 38:(2,) 3, 5; 40:1. Apparently, the title “God of Heaven” reflects Persian period language and seems to be an interculturally used denominator for God stemming from that time.55 Secondly, there are quite a few LBH features in Gen 24 that point to a Persian period setting. The most obvious case might be the imperative ‫“ הגמיאיני‬let me sip” in Gen 24:17, which is a hapax in Biblical Hebrew but is common in Rabbinic Hebrew.56 Further examples can be found in Rofé’s article. And thirdly, the issue of avoiding mixed marriages is absent from alleged preexilic material, but it is broadly attested and debated in Ezra-Nehemiah.57 Taken together, it is more plausible to date Gen 24 in the Persian period than to any other time.58

VII. Numbers and Chronicles Some recent redaction-critical theories on the book of Numbers have argued that there are no pre-P elements in the book. Following this approach (which is not generally accepted), the book of Numbers in toto would qualify as a Persian period portion of the Pentateuch.59 Be that as it may, there are some close and Betrothal of Rebekah,” in Die Hebräische Bibel und ihre zweifache Nachgeschichte: Festschrift für Rolf Rendtorff zum 65. Geburtstag (ed. E. Blum et al.; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1990), 27–39. Cf. also Blum, Vätergeschichte, 383–387. 55 S. Beyerle, “The ‘God of Heaven’ in Persian and Hellenistic Times,” in Other Worlds and Their Relation to This World: Early Jewish and Ancient Christian Traditions (ed. T. Nicklas et al.; JSJSup 143; Leiden: Brill, 2010), 17–36. 56 Rofé, “An Enquiry,” 29. 57 Cf. R. Rothenbusch, “The Question of Mixed Marriages between the Poles of Diaspora and Homeland: Observations in Ezra-Nehemiah,” in Mixed Marriages: Intermarriage and Group Identity in the Second Temple Period (ed. C. Frevel; LHBOTS 547; London / ​New York: T & T Clark, 2011), 60–77; U. Fistill, Israel und das Ostjordanland: Untersuchungen zur Komposition von Num 21,21–36,13 im Hinblick auf die Entstehung des Buches Numeri (ÖBS 30; Berlin: Lang, 2007), 213. 58 G. A. Rendsburg, “Some False Leads in the Identification of Late Biblical Hebrew Texts: The Cases of Genesis 24 and 1 Samuel 2:27–36,” JBL 121 (2002), 23–46, still argues otherwise. 59 Cf. R. Achenbach, Die Vollendung der Tora: Studien zur Redaktionsgeschichte des Numeribuches im Kontext von Hexateuch und Pentateuch (BZABR 3; Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2003), 629–633; T. Römer, “Das Buch Numeri und das Ende des Jahwisten: Anfragen zur ‘Quellenscheidung’ im vierten Buch des Pentateuch,” in Abschied vom Jahwisten: Die Komposition des Hexateuch in der jüngsten Diskussion (ed. J. C. Gertz et al.; BZAW 315; Berlin / ​New York: de

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conspicuous parallels that Hans-Peter Mathys has described between Numbers and Chronicles that are relevant to our question in any case.60 These parallels pertain to the role of the Levites, the highlighted significance of Pesach, the stressing of the tenth, the regulations about temple funds and the numbering of the people, the absence of the notion of collective guilt, the concept of holy war, and others. For a detailed discussion, the reader may be referred to Mathys’ article. Of course, none of these elements alone can bear the weight of proving a late date for Numbers as a whole, but the cumulative evidence of these issues hints at the plausibility of a common intellectual milieu behind Numbers and Chronicles, even if the book of Numbers may include earlier traditions.61

VIII. Identifying Criteria for Dating Pentateuchal Texts to the Persian Period For European scholarship, it is often stating the obvious to say that the Pentateuch includes material from the Persian period.62 The Pentateuch indeed seems to reflect the Persian Empire as the historical background in which its authors and compilers operated. Of course, the Pentateuch contains many texts that are older, dating back to the monarchic period (e. g., in the Jacob cycle; also in the exodus story), and if one accounts for oral pre-stages and traditions, then one can think of even earlier dates.63 But because this position is contested, the clarification of its methodological grounds is necessary. The following points need to be highlighted in this respect. A. Linguistics I maintain that, on its own, the fact that the Pentateuch was written in CBH does not place its literary formation in the preexilic period. On the one hand, there is no compelling reason to exclude the possibility of CBH texts in the later 6th and even the 5th or 4th century b.c.e. On the other hand, we have some texts like Gen Gruyter, 2002), 215–231; see also Kratz, Komposition, 115–117, and the overview in C. Frevel, “The Book of Numbers: Formation, Composition, and Interpretation of a Late Part of the Torah. Some Introductory Remarks,” in Torah and the Book of Numbers (ed. C. Frevel et al.; FAT 62; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 1–37. 60 H.-P. Mathys, “Numeri und Chronik: Nahe Verwandte,” in The Books of Leviticus and Numbers (ed. T. Römer; BETL 215; Leuven: Peeters, 2008), 555–578. 61 Cf. e. g., Blum, Studien zur Komposition des Pentateuch, 208–218. 62 Cf. e. g., E. S. Gerstenberger, Israel in the Persian Period: The Fifth and Fourth Centuries B. C. E. (BibEnc 8; Atlanta: SBL, 2011); T. Römer, “Zwischen Urkunden, Fragmenten und Ergänzungen. Zum Stand der Pentateuchforschung,” ZAW 125 (2013), 2–24; idem. (ed.), Einleitung in das Alte Testament: die Bücher der Hebräischen Bibel und die alttestamentlichen Schriften der katholischen, protestantischen und orthodoxen Kirchen (Zürich: TVZ, 2013), 120–168. 63 Cf. Schmid, “Der Pentateuch und seine Theologiegeschichte.”

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24 that exhibit some features of LBH. P also seems to border on LBH. Methods of linguistic dating are relevant for a historical approach to the Pentateuch, but such methods need to be balanced by the incorporation of other methods.64 B. Historical, Cultural, and Political Analogies and Intellectual Developments This issue is tricky and contested,65 and it requires us to accept the basic tenets of Troeltsch’s historical method. If one embraces his three steps of “critique,” “analogy,” and “correlation,”66 then the “exilic” shape of the Pentateuch (which takes place mostly outside of Israel), its “republican”67 rather than monarchic outlook, its inclusive, pluralistic, and peaceful stance towards other nations, even the reference to “trousers” – when viewed altogether – indeed point to a post-monarchic and specifically to a Persian Period setting for some of its text portions, especially P. The same is true for a comparison of Pentateuchal texts with concepts and developments outside of Genesis–Deuteronomy. If one relies even modestly on comparable biblical and epigraphical material outside of the Pentateuch, then the Pentateuch’s monotheism,68 as well as the connections between Numbers and Chronicles or between Gen 24 and Ezra-Nehemiah suggest a Persian-Period dating.69 To sum up: If we follow the road taken by critical scholarship over the past 250 years and read the Bible like any other book,70 we should employ all the methods at our disposal to determine the historical origin and context behind 64 See

n. 21.

65 Cf. K. Schmid, “Anfänge politikförmiger Religion: Die Theologisierung politisch-imperia-

ler Begriffe in der Religionsgeschichte des antiken Israel als Grundlage autoritärer und toleranter Strukturmomente monotheistischer Religionen,” in Religion – Wirtschaft – Politik: Forschungszugänge zu einem aktuellen transdisziplinären Feld (ed. A. Liedhegener; Zürich: TVZ / ​BadenBaden: Nomos, 2011), 161–177. 66 See n. 25. 67 Cf. T. Römer, “La loi du roi en Deutéronome 17 et ses fonctions,” in Loi et Justice dans la Littérature du Proche-Orient ancient (ed. O. Artus; BZABR 20; Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2013), 99–111. 68 See n. 33. 69 Cf. K. Schmid, The Old Testament: A Literary History (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2012), 141– 181. Cf. also the interpretation of Gen 22 by T. Veijola, “Das Opfer des Abraham – Paradigma des Glaubens aus dem nachexilischen Zeitalter,” in Offenbarung und Anfechtung: Hermeneutisch-theologische Studien zum Alten Testament (ed. W. Dietrich and M. Marttila; BThSt 89; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2007), 88–133; see also K. Schmid, “Die Rückgabe der Verheißungsgabe: Der ‘heilsgeschichtliche’ Sinn von Genesis 22 im Horizont innerbiblischer Exegese,” in Gott und Mensch im Dialog: Festschrift für Otto Kaiser zum 80. Geburtstag, vol. 1 (ed. M. Witte; BZAW 345; Berlin / ​New York: de Gruyter, 2004), 271–300. 70 J. W. Rogerson, “Die Bibel lesen wie jedes andere Buch? Auseinandersetzungen um die Autorität der Bibel vom 18. Jahrhundert an bis heute,” in Biblischer Text und theologische Theorie­bildung (ed. S. Chapman et al.; BThSt  44; Neukirchen-Vluyn,  Neukirchener Verlag, 2001), 211–234.

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Pentateuchal texts. And if we do so, we will see that despite the fact that the world of the Pentateuchal narrative plays out in the 2nd millennium b.c.e., there is evidence that the world of some of its narrators belongs to the post 539 b.c.e. era, the Persian period.

The Aaronic Blessing (Numbers 6) Its Intention and Place in the Concept of the Pentateuch* Raik Heckl The subject of the following article is possibly the best-known passage of the book of Numbers: the priestly blessing.1 My intention is to show how the text of the blessing is integrated into the Pentateuch and into its theology. This aim already indicates the assumption that a concept of the entire Pentateuch must exist.2 This assumption, however, is not undisputed. Erhard Blum, for example, suggests that the Pentateuch is a compilation of disparate concepts in which tensions and inconsistencies were put up with.3 The reason, according to Blum, was the so-called Persian imperial authorization of the Torah. The foreign dominion required the Judeans to create one single law book, although there existed different literary traditions and representative groups in Persian Judah.4 * This essay was submitted in March, 2015, and has remained unchanged thoughout the process of publication. 1 The use of the Aaronic blessing in the Lutheran Protestant Churches is based upon a decision of Martin Luther. During the 19th century it became one of the characteristic features of their service. Cf. K. Seybold, Der aaronitische Segen: Studien zu Numeri 6,22–27 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1977), 11; M. Meyer-Blanck, Gottesdienstlehre (Neue Theo­logische Grundrisse; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 515. The blessing is used in special contexts in the Church of England and within the Roman Catholic liturgy. Cf. Seybold, Der aaronitische, 12. 2 With that assumption I am following E. Otto, “Die Rechtshermeneutik im Pentateuch und in der Tempelrolle,” in Tora in der Hebräischen Bibel. Studien zur Redaktionsgeschichte und synchronen Logik diachroner Transformationen (ed. R. Achenbach et al.; BZAR 7; Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2007), 72–121, here 75, who noted that “Widersprüche und Spannungen im Pentateuch sollten […] als gezielt für den Leser stehen gelassene oder in der Mehrzahl sogar bewusst eingefügte Marker begriffen werden, die den Leser in die Lage versetzen sollen zu erkennen, dass die Erzählungen nicht in der erzählten Zeit allein ihren Horizont haben, sondern eine hermeneutische Strategie der Applikabilität auf die Erzählzeit als die des Lesers verfolgen, also ein tua res agitur zum Ausdruck bringen wollen, wenn sie von der Mosezeit erzählen.” The concept of the Pentateuch is one of my main research fields since my Monograph on Deuteronomy: R. Heckl, Moses Vermächtnis: Kohärenz, literarische Intention und Funktion von Dtn 1–3 (AbiG 9; Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2004). 3 According to Blum, the Pentateuch should be seen as something like a “Hybridkomposition.” E. Blum, “Esra, die Mosetora und die persische Politik,” in Textgestalt und Komposition: exegetische Beiträge zu Tora und Vordere Propheten (ed. W. Oswald; FAT 69; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 177–205, here 194. 4 Cf. P. Frei, “Persian Imperial Authorization: A Summery,” in Persia and Torah: The Theory of Imperial Authorization of the Pentateuch (ed. J. W. Watts; SBLSymS 17; Atlanta: SBL, 2001),

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The presentation of the Aaronic Blessing belongs to the later priestly stages of the Pentateuch. If it can be shown that it is part of a comprehensive theological concept with connections to priestly – and non-priestly texts – that would help to describe the theology of the final composition of the Pentateuch. Thus, Num 6 could contribute to answering the question whether the Pentateuch can be seen as one meaningful concept or as a blend of different concepts and theologies.5 The etymology of the verb ‫“ ברך‬to bless” is not clear and the neighbouring languages do not give more evidence.6 Because the Hebrew Bible contains blessings by men and blessings by God the research found it quite hard to formulate a comprehensive definition of what happens in a blessing. A very common view is that blessing is part of a magical reality.7 Another interpretation is to see the blessing as a means of communication.8 It seems that these different interpretations are based on different approaches depending on who the grammatical subject of the blessing is – God or man.9 Though this investigation cannot allay the principal etymological uncertainty in explaining the verb, it will show how 5–40. For its critique cf. G. N. Knoppers, “An Achaemenid Imperial Authorization of Torah in Yehud?,” in Persia and Torah: The Theory of Imperial Authorization of the Pentateuch (ed. J. W. Watts; SBLSymS 17; Atlanta: SBL, 2001), 115–134, here 133, and the other articles of the collection. 5 There is a trend to no longer speak of a single theology, as evidenced by E. Gerstenberger, Theologien im Alten Testament: Pluralität und Synkretismus alttestamentlichen Gottesglaubens (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2001). Cf. G. Fischer, Theologien des Alten Testaments (NSKAT 31; Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 2012), M. Leuenberger, “Rezension G. Fischer, Theologien des Alten Testaments,” RBL 11 (2013); K. Schmid, Gibt es Theologie im Alten Testament?: zum Theologiebegriff in der alttestamentlichen Wissenschaft (ThS 7; Zurich: Theologischer Verlag, 2013), here 52. 6 Cf. G. Wehmeier, Der Segen im Alten Testament: eine semasiologische Untersuchung der Wurzel brk (ThDiss 6; Basel: Reinhardt, 1970), here 7; J. Scharbert, “‫ברך ברכה‬,” in ThWAT I (1973), 808–841, here 811. 7 That was common in the earlier research. J. Pedersen, Der Eid bei den Semiten: In seinem Verhältnis zu verwandten Erscheinungen sowie die Stellung des Eides im Islam (Studien zur Geschichte und Kultur des islamischen Orients 3; Straßburg: Trübner, 1914), 94, for instance, saw the blessing as an equivalent to the curse containing a concrete power. Cf. J. S. Anderson, The Blessing and the Curse: Trajectories in the Theology of the Old Testament (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2014), 38. A similar position is held by M. Leuenberger, Segen und Segenstheologien im alten Israel: Untersuchungen zu ihren religions‑ und theologiegeschichtlichen Konstellationen und Transformationen (ATANT 90; Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 2008), 483. 8 T. Arndt, “Überlegungen zur hebräischen Wurzel ‫ברך‬,” in MuB 9 (1995), 49–54, here 53, explained the root ‫ ברך‬from its use in situations of encounter. M. L. Frettlöh, Theologie des Segens: biblische und dogmatische Wahrnehmungen (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 1998), here 363, followed this approach in her systematic theological discussion of the blessing. Recently T. Arndt, “‘Nimm meinen Gruß entgegen!’ (Gen 33,11). Wahrnehmungen zum Segen im Komplex der Jakobserzählungen,” in Ex oriente Lux: Studien zur Theologie des Alten Testaments, Festschrift für Rüdiger Lux zum 65. Geburstag (ed. A. Berlejung and R. Heckl; Arbeiten zur Bibel und ihrer Geschichte 39; Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2012), 59–76, here 73, repeated his approach with new examples. 9 Already Wehmeier, Segen, 170, suggests that the meaning depends on this perspective.

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the authors of the passage of the Aaronic blessing (Num 6:22–27) wanted this particular blessing to be understood. It is a biblical concept of blessing with far reaching consequences. Before we can describe the meaning and intention of the passage and its literary origin, it is necessary to know what role blessing played in the lives of its addresses, Jews of the Persian era, and how blessing was practised in their lives.

I. Blessing in the Cultural Background of the Text – Tradition History A. Blessing in the Texts of the Pentateuch As a later part of the Pentateuchal composition, Num 6:24–26 is also younger than several other passages which deal with blessings. I will start with some examples from non-priestly, in my opinion pre-priestly, texts. Blessings promised by God are a characteristic feature of the Patriarch stories. This starts in Gen 12:2 with God’s first speech addressed to Abraham. God’s promise to provide the blessing is repeated for instance in Gen 22, and all other promises are connected to it. As another example of blessing, the Jacob-Esau story deals with the topic of a father blessing his son. It is this blessing which Jacob cunningly obtains. In Gen 27:28–29, it is the dew and the harvest of the land that result from the blessing. That the unfortunate brother can only get the curse results from the fact that Jacob also received the dominion over him. Especially this relationship presupposes an actual effect of the blessing even if it is formulated as a request to God. As an effect of blessing, Jacob attains wealth in Haran, this time explicitly by the blessing of God (Gen 30:30). We find different concepts of blessing further on in this story when Jacob returns to Canaan. In the combat at the Jabbok, Jacob forces the strange nightly figure to bless him. He receives his honorary name “Israel” (Gen 32:29). This blessing obtained by sheer obstinacy seems to be connected to the name Israel, or the name seems to be identical with the blessing. There are many passages in which people bless each other when they meet or say goodbye. It is possible to bless one’s children as for example in the story of Jacob and Esau already mentioned. Two important examples are the blessing by Jacob which concludes the prehistory of Israel and the blessing of Moses which concludes the Pentateuch. There are also situations in which the blessing is given by or to a stranger, for instance in Gen 14:19, where the priest of Shalem blesses Abram, and in Num 23, where Balaam blesses Israel or, conversely, when Jacob in Gen 47:7 blesses Pharaoh. Deuteronomy tries to motivate people to keep the commandments by the prospect of being blessed. Blessing, however, can also be a gift which one can give

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to others as for instance the released slave according to Deut 15:14. Besides this, Deuteronomy also mentions that blessing is the primary task of the Levite priests (Deut 21:5). This passage already shows that blessing was beyond doubt also a traditional part of the cult. The corpus of Deuteronomy closes with blessings and curses which are connected to the keeping or violating of the Deuteronomic laws. The reception of these passages were seen as highly efficient and were used in a magical sense. This is why references to the curses of Deuteronomy can be found in burial inscriptions of the Hellenistic era.10 In Priestly texts of the Pentateuch, we find blessings already in the creation account and after the flood story. These are the blessings of the creatures to multiply (Gen 1:22, 28) followed by the blessing of the Sabbath (2:3). In Gen 9:1 God repeats the blessing of the creation to the descendants of Noah. After Gen 1–11 the Priestly texts use blessing in the patriarch stories similarly to the non-Priestly texts. Hence, being blessed by God is connected to the promise of descendants and land. It is striking that the Priestly repetition of the story how Jacob receives the honorary name Israel (Gen 35:10) removes any doubts that it is God himself who blesses him. Though the 18th edition of Gesenius’ dictionary defines the main meaning of the verb ‫ ברך‬as “salvific virtue”11 in the Bible, however, the verb to bless is used in many different connotations. Blessing can be a salvific virtue, mostly given by God, it can have a quasimagical meaning, and it can be used in everyday communication as a commonplace phrase. B. Blessing in Extra-Biblical Texts The witnesses from the neighbouring cultures of Israel display a very similar diversity of the concept of blessing. As shown in the Pentateuch, blessing must have been a widespread aspect of religion and of everyday communication. I will start with some examples from the neighbouring cultures before I will deal with extra-biblical Jewish blessings. The emphasis is on texts from the Persian era, from which the passage Num 6 most likely comes as well. The first example is taken from a royal inscription in which the blessing of a deity is given to the king. The aim of the blessing is to guarantee a long life and time of reign.

10 Cf. H. M. Strubbe, “Curses Against Violation of the Grave in Jewish Epitaphs in Asia Minor,” in Studies in early Jewish epigraphy (ed. J. W. van Henten and P. W. van der Horst; AGJU 21; Leiden / ​New York / ​Cologne: Brill, 1994), 70–128, here 115–120. This interpretation agrees with the view of H. Spieckermann, “‘YHWH Bless You and Keep You’: The Relation of History of Israelite Religion and Old Testament Theology Reconsidered,” SJOT 23 (2009), 165–182, here 178, that “magical traditions and deep theological reflection are here [in Deut 27] closely connected.” 11 Cf. Gesenius, 178.

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May the mistress of Gebal bless Yeḥaw-milk, king of Gebal, and grant him life and prolong his days and his years over Gebal, for he is a righteous king!12

The next example can be found in a Phoenician papyrus from Sakkara, which was written in the 6th century, witnesses to a blessing in personal religion. ‫ברכתך לבעל צפן ולכל אל תחפמחס יפעלך שלם‬ I bless you with Baal Zafon and all gods of Tachpenes. May they grant you salvation.13

The following inscription comes from an epitaph from the 5th century and contains a blessing by the deity Osiris: Blessed be Abah, the son of Hor, and Achatabu, daughter of Adiya, all from Kasthemechi, the city, from Osiris the God.14

The additional hieroglyphic inscription of this text shows that the blessing of the person or the persons is connected to their entrance into the realm of the dead. There are different Egyptian texts which mention the blessing of Osiris, but here the persons are Aramaeans. In another interesting graffito from Egypt the inscription itself is directly connected to the blessing. It shows the performative relevance of a particular blessing inscription. Blessed be he who wrote this inscription before the god of the mountain and the god of Egypt that they grant me welfare and favor … from/more than all … and blessed be he who will read this insc[ri]p[tion].15

With the following text from the 5th century, I begin to examine some examples concerning Israel. It is a letter which mentions a man by the name of Gidel, who sends clothes for sewing to a man called Micaya. To my lord Micaiya, your servant Giddel. (Blessings) of welfare and life I sent you. I blessed you by YHH and Khnum.16

While the addressee is a Jew or an Israelite, the sender is an Aramaean or an Egyptian. The wish to bless someone connects two religious contexts. It shows that it was not uncommon for the non-Israelite to mention the blessing of Yhwh (Yaho). Such concepts can even be found in the Hebrew Bible for instance when 12 TUAT

II, 587. Another example is the Karatepe Inscription (720 b.c.e.). See TUAT I, 643. 20:2. Cf. H. Donner, Geschichte des Volkes Israel und seiner Nachbarn in Grundzügen: Teil II: Von der Königszeit bis zu Alexander dem Großen Mit einem Ausblick auf die Geschichte des Judentums bis Bar Kochba (ATD 4/2; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2001), here 67. 14 B. Porten and A. Yardeni, Textbook of Aramaic Documents from Ancient Egypt: 4 Ostraca & Assorted Inscriptions (Jerusalem: Hebrew University 1999), D 20.3, 254. 15 Porten and Yardeni, Textbook 4, D 22.51, 284. 16 See B. Porten, “Offer to Sew a Garment (3.87C),” in Archival documents from the biblical world (ed. W. W. Hallo and K. L. Younger; COS 3; Leiden: Brill, 2003), 210–211. 13 KAI,

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Laban and Jacob swear to both their Gods that they will respect the territorial claims of the other party in the future (Gen 31:53). In the context of Israel, the texts from Kuntillet Ajrud must be mentioned. In these texts from the 9th or 8th century, we already find a blessing formula with a similar pattern like the priestly blessing in Num 6.17 These examples show that Num 6 is part of a long tradition of blessing practice in Israel, and that the literary pattern of the Aaronic blessing developed over a long time. I have blessed you by Yhwh of Teman and his asherah. May He bless you and may He keep you, and may He be with my lord [forever(?)]18

This connection between Yhwh and other gods can still be seen in texts from the Persian era as some of the Elephantine papyri show. The papyrus Amherst 63 contains a text of which the biblical Ps 20 is a variation. However, even though Yhwh is called “savior” in the papyrus we read in the end of the poem: May Baalshamayn, the Lord (mr), pronounce your benedictions to your faithful.19

Two extra-biblical texts from the 7th or 6th century b.c.e. from Ketef Hinom lead us still closer to the context of Num 6. These silver amulets were found in a grave and contain the blessing in a form similar to Num 6. Num 6:24–26 Yhwh may bless you, and he may keep you. Yhwh may make his face shine (‫ )יאר‬on you, and he may be gracious to you. Yhwh may turn his face toward you and he may give you peace.

Ketef Hinom 1 Yhwh may bless, [and he] may keep you. Yhwh may make shine (‫)יאר‬ [his] fa[ce] to you […]

Ketef Hinom 2 Yhwh may bless and [he] may keep you. Yh[..] may make shine (‫)יאר‬ his face [to] you.

And he may give you pea[ce].

The amulets show that people were wearing the written form of this blessing hoping to receive and to keep the blessing in life. Perhaps it was hoped that the blessing of Yhwh would reach the wearer even in the realm of the dead.20 That there exist two examples from

17 Cf. Z. Meshel, Kuntillet ‘Ajrud (Ḥorvat Teman): An Iron Age II Religious Site on the JudahSinai Border (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2012), 75. In an inscription on a stone basin we find the blessing: “To/of ‘Obadyāw son of ‘Adnāh, blessed be he to YHW” (ibid., 76). 18 See Meshel, Kuntillet, 95. 19 Cf. R. Heckl, “Inside the Canon and Out: The Relationship Between Psalm 20 and Papyrus Amherst 63,” Sem 56 (2014), 359–379, here 366. 20 This interpretation, however, is challenged, for instance by A. Berlejung who thinks that the amulets were placed with the dead persons because they wore them in life. Otherwise, after the replacing of the bones in the depository, the amulets would not have been disconnected from the wearer. Her conclusion is: “Daher ist davon auszugehen, dass zeitgleich [mit der Umlagerung der Gebeine, R. H.] die Amulettfunktion und ‑wirkung für den Verstorbenen

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the same burial place shows that it was more than an individual practice of the bereaved. Therefore, it cannot be ruled out, that the amulets indicate their hope that the blessing which kept the living would also keep the dead. One could start this discussion anew in connection with the mentioned blessing by Osiris.21

The dating of the amulets is also disputed. The content of amulet one, however, resembles elements of Deut 7.22 That means that both texts cannot have been written earlier than the 6th century.23 Both texts are very close to Num 6:24–26 but they are also shorter. It is, therefore, generally assumed that the amulets represent a tradition containing a formulation of the blessing earlier than that of the Aaronic blessing of Num 6.24 Lastly, the so-called Community Rule with its paraphrase of the Aaronic blessing must be mentioned.25 ‫אנשי גורל אל ההולכים תמים בכול דרכיו ואומרים יברככה בכול‬2 ‫… והכוהנים מברכים את כול‬1 II ‫וישא פני חסדיו לכה לשלום‬4 ‫טוב וישמורכה מכול רע ויאר לבכה בשכל חיים ויחונכה בדעת עולמים‬3 … ‫גורל בליעל וענו ואמרו ארור אתה בכול מעשי רשע‬5 ‫עולמים והלויים מקללים את כול אנשי‬ II1 … Then the priests shall bless all 2the men of God’s lot who walk perfectly in all his ways, and say: “May he bless you with all 3good and keep you from all evil; may he enlighten your heart with insight for living, may he favor you with eternal knowledge. 4May he lift up his merciful countenance toward you for eternal peace.” Then the Levites shall curse all the men of 5Belial’s lot; they shall respond and say: “Cursed be you in all your guilty (and) wicked works. …”

It is striking that the blessing is directly followed by the curse, which the Levites cast on all people who choose the path of Belial. This constellation of blessing and curse most likely uses the context of Deut 27 as its model. The wording of the blessing again is similar to the Aaronic blessing, but the text connects it to the confession of the community. endete.” A. Berlejung, “Der gesegnete Mensch: Text und Kontext von Num 6,22–27 und den Silberamuletten von Ketef Hinnom,” in Mensch und König: Studien zur Anthropologie des Alten Testaments. Festschrift für Rüdiger Lux zum 65. Geburstag (ed. A. Berlejung and R. Heckl; HBS 53; Freiburg: Herder, 2008), 37–62, here 46. Spieckermann, “YHWH,” 179, interprets the same fact differently: “The living did not dare to deprive the dead of the protective or even apotropaic power which the amulets exerted.” 21 Cf. G. Eberhardt, JHWH und die Unterwelt: Spuren einer Kompetenzausweitung JHWHs im Alten Testament (FAT II 23; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 375–387, who discusses also the inscription of Hirbet el Qom 3. Cf. ibid., 387. Possibly Yhwh became a hope for the afterlife of the dead, because he was already important as a protective God. 22 Cf. Berlejung, “Mensch,” 37–41. 23 Cf. Berlejung, “Mensch,” 47. 24 Cf. Leuenberger, Segen, 170. 25 Text and translation: J. H. Charlesworth and E. Qimron, “Rule of the Community (1QS),” in The Dead Sea Scrolls: Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek Texts with English Translations. Volume 1 Rule of Community and Related Documents (ed. J. H. Charlesworth et al.; PTSDSSP; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1994), 1–51, here 8.

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The graffiti and other inscriptions from Israel and Egypt show that the blessing was a religious matter deeply interwoven in personal religion. We find witnesses of the wish or of the hope for a blessing by a certain deity, and of the view that the inscribed formula transmitted the blessing by itself. This small overview shows that blessing was an inter-religious topic in the ancient Near East. Even the confines between groups and their gods seem to be open. In spite of the fact that Ashera is mentioned in the Kuntillet Ajrud ostraca, the blessings there were already formally similar to the Aaronic blessing. The amulets of Ketev Hinom possibly are witnesses of extra-biblical versions of the biblical blessing. The same is true for the passage from the Community Rule. But while the amulets from Ketev Hinom represent an earlier stage of the Aaronic blessing, the context of the Community Rule represents a later interpretation of the blessing. However, both contexts show that Num 6:24–26 is not only connected historically to blessings in the neighbouring cultures but also to an intensive Israelite tradition history.

II. “The Lord said to Moses” – The Presentation of the Blessing in Num 6:22–23 The passage of the blessing does not seem to belong to the key texts of the Pentateuch. That may be the reason why research has suggested that the blessing might belong to the context of Lev 9:22, where Aaron raises his hand the first time for a blessing.26 In Num 6, the formula of the blessing was supposed to be only a supplement.27 However, it must be noted, the blessing is part of a small pericope with an introduction and a concluding interpretation.28 As such it is not a doublet to the aforementioned pericope of Aaron’s blessing in Lev 9 because that passage tells the story of Aaron blessing the people while Num 6:22 describes how Moses receives the wording of the blessing from God.29 Although Lev 9:22 was possibly composed earlier than the book of Numbers, the introduction of the specific form of the blessing in Num 6 was only possible because blessing was an integral part of the cult, even if there was no firm form mentioned in Lev 9 yet. Hence, the later introduction can also be a sign that the Aaronic blessing is a relatively late innovation. However, seeing Num 6 as a later innovation does not explain its actual place. It is notable that the Aaronic blessing is not connected to its direct contexts, neither to the Nazirate ritual (Num 6) nor to the votive offerings of the heads of the fathers’ households (Num 7).30 26 Cf. J. Wellhausen, Die Composition des Hexateuchs und der historischen Bücher des Alten Testaments (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1963), here 175; Seybold, Segen, 59 f. 27 Cf. R. Achenbach, Die Vollendung der Tora: Studien zur Redaktionsgeschichte des Numeri­ buches im Kontext von Hexateuch und Pentateuch (BZAR 3; Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2003), 511. 28 The LXX presents v. 27 after v. 23, which is a harmonization. Most likely the translation intends to present one single passage of the priestly instruction. Cf. H. Seebass, Numeri I. 1. Teilband Numeri 1,1–10,10 (BK 4/1; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2012), 168. 29 Differently Seebass, Numeri, 172, who sees it as a preparation for the wandering. 30 According to Leuenberger, Segen, 168, the blessing concludes the instructions of purity

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In my opinion, the position of the blessing is connected to the remark in Num 7:1 that the sanctuary is now prepared, anointed and consecrated. That is, indeed, a reference to Exod 40:9 and following, where God commands Moses to do so. Indeed, Exod 40:16 notes that Moses did everything as Yhwh commanded him. However, when read synchronically both concluding remarks Exod 40:16 and Num 7:1 are connected by the idea that it took almost until the departure from Mount Sinai to prepare the sanctuary. The later authors of Num 7:1 and of the book of Numbers emphasize at that point the conclusion of the preparations in order to add innovations to the preceding books. This means that, at least in their opinion, Num 6 was almost the last place in the Pentateuch where the final, necessary implements of the cult and the sanctuary could be arranged. The passage of the blessing is connected to the conclusion of the preparations of the sanctuary and as such it is an important chronological transition within the Pentateuch; as the blessing of the Sabbath completes the week of creation (Gen 2:3), the Aaronic blessing accomplishes the creation of the sanctuary. The difference is that Aaron does not give the blessing but receives its canonical form as the last step of the preparations. However, the question must be asked how the blessing given orally can belong to the material furnishing of the tent of meeting. The introduction of the pericope of the Aaronic blessing follows the common pattern of the introduction of commandments, cultic regulations, etc., from the book of Exodus to the end of Numbers. In Num 6, God says to Moses that he must communicate the blessing to Aaron and his sons.31 The role of Moses in these introductions is connected to the famous story of his vocation (Exod 3), when Moses becomes the mediator of God and Aaron becomes his helper.32 This role of Moses shows him not only as a man of God but as the prophet in a unique relationship to God which is described in Num 11 in the priestly context and in Deut 34 at the end of the Pentateuch. Moses’ role in almost all priestly contexts from the books of Exodus to Numbers is based on his role in Deuteronomy33 in of the camp (Num 5.). R. P. Knierim and G. W. Coats, Numbers (FOTL 4; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2005), 96, assume that the blessing concludes the cultic procedures. Berlejung, “Mensch,” 44, holds the view that there is a connection to the offerings of the tribes in Num 7. Seebass, Numeri, 169, sees a frame of the chapters 5–7 by Num 5:1–4 and Num 6:22–27. In his opinion the context deals with different priestly competences. All explanations fail to explain the direct contextualization after the instructions of purity, the ordeal of jealousy and the ritual of the Nazirite. 31 According to J. C. Gertz these introductions are characteristic for the priestly code. Cf. J. C. Gertz, Tradition und Redaktion in der Exoduserzählung: Untersuchungen zur Endredaktion des Pentateuch (FRLANT 186; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000), 65, while Achenbach, Vollendung, 463, assumes that they might be created by later priestly redactions. 32 If Exod 4:13–16 is indeed a postpriestly addition one has to think of it as a later interpretation of the priestly formulas ‫וידבר יהוה אל משה דבר לאמר דבר אל אהרן‬. Cf. H. Valentin, Aaron: eine Studie zur vor-priesterlichen Aaron-Überlieferung (OBO 18; Freiburg: Universitätsverlag, 1978), 43. 33 Cf. R. Heckl, “Augenzeugenschaft und Verfasserschaft des Mose als zwei hermeneutische

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which narrative and juridical contents get their authority from him as the person who orally promulgates the ‫ חקים‬and ‫משפטים‬. The later priestly authors of the books from Exodus to Numbers use his authority as the scribe of God in order to confirm changed concepts compared to particular passages of Deuteronomy. Hence, the Mosaic authority is used at several consecutive stages.34 The last step is the presentation of the priestly texts, as in Num 6, which claims that what Aaron and his sons or the people of Israel get is identical to what Moses got from God. In our case (Num 6), this means that Moses received the exact wording of the blessing and exactly repeated it to the priests. This presentation is important if we remember the different possibilities of giving a blessing in Israel and in its surroundings. Against these possibilities within the Bible and in the cultural context of ancient Israel, the introduction of the Aaronic blessing claims that its formula originates directly from God, given and witnessed by the authority of Moses. Seemingly, it claims that this special blessing has a virtue greater than all other forms of blessing. Pragmatically, it does not mean that only the Aaronites were authorised to give the blessing35 – as H. Seebass suggests – but that the intended addressees should search only for this particular blessing.

III. The Text of the Blessing (Num 6:24–26) It was often noted that the Aaronic blessing is artfully designed. Its three lines mention the name of God. The Tetragrammaton is always placed at the second position after one verb in the imperfect followed by a second stichos with a second verb.36 The trifold repetition of the Tetragrammaton as the grammatical subject of all sentences emphasizes the aim of the plea for the blessing. Line after line introduces additional elements in order to accomplish the blessing. That happens in an elaborated and constructed way: the second line has two additional words in the second sentence, and the third line two additional words in both its first and its second sentence. Hence, there are three, five, and seven words. This precise structure did not emerge by accident. Generally, the surface of a text serves to present its content. Therefore, the reason for these special formal features of the blessing cannot be the liturgical use alone, and it shall be discussed in greater detail after the discussion of the content. Konzepte der Rezeption und Präsentation literarischer Traditionen beim Abschluss des Pentateuchs,” ZAW 122 (2010), 353–373, 362. 34 Cf. R. Heckl, “Mose als Schreiber: Am Ursprung der jüdischen Hermeneutik des Pentateuchs,” BZABR 19 (2013), 179–234, here 221. 35 Cf. Seebass, Numeri, 173. 36 For the meaning of the number three cf. J. Plöger, “Numeri 6,22–27 (Oktav von Weihnachten),” in Die alttestamentlichen Lesungen der Sonn‑ und Feiertage: Auslegung und Verkündigung (Advent bis 5. Fastensonntag Lesejahr B 1) (ed. J. Schreiner; Würzburg: Echter, 1969), 95–106, here 96.

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A. The Content The three verses with Yhwh as their subject are addressed in imperfect at the God of Israel. This form of communication of the blessing is similar to most of the blessings within and outside the Bible. It is a form of a plea to God or a promise of being blessed: “He may bless or he will bless …” Which persons are involved is made clear in the framing verses. The priests shall bless the children of Israel, but the blessing itself is individually directed in the second singular to its addressees: “The Lord bless you and keep you.” Thus, the mediation of the blessing introduces a close relationship between the speaker and the “you” and at the same time between God as the giver of the blessing and the addressed person. The plea for salvation is directed at the individual.37 At first glance this aspect does not seem to fit the formulation in the framing verses and, therefore, it was argued that the blessing is a secondary passage.38 But the passage could neither work without the blessing nor the blessing without a frame. The examples from Kuntillet Ajrud and Ketef Hinom, however, show that the formulation of the Aaronic blessing addressed to an individual is a basic element of a blessing in general. Otherwise the supposed redactor would have been able to change the formulation of the blessing easily. However, in the verse Num 6:23, which seems to create the differentiation of the perspective, no alternative is possible. The Aaronides have the task to bless the Israelites. The verse could not describe their duty as a service for individual Israelites. And in Num 6:23 a singular phrase (such as ‫ )כל ישראל‬could also not be used instead of ‫ בני ישראל‬because it would eliminate the individual nature of the blessing. This consideration shows that there are no good reasons for the assumption of a redaction. Instead, the different perspectives of frame and blessing make good sense. The wish of being blessed is meant for each and every individual but, thereby, it also reaches the present collective and the entire group indicated as the people of Israel.39 This method of connecting individuality and collectivity is used in and known from Deuteronomy.40 37 Differently Berlejung, “Mensch,” 58. In her opinion the collective meaning is the determining factor because of the cultic background. 38 Cf. Leuenberger, Segen, 167; Spieckermann, “YHWH,” 179. 39 This interpretation was already given by M. Noth, Das vierte Buch Mose, Numeri (ATD 7; Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1969), 54: “vielmehr sind die jeweils mit dem Segen Angesprochenen gemeint sowohl als Teilhaber an dem ganz Israel zugedachten Segen Gottes wie auch als einzelne Menschen.” Cf. J. Milgrom, Numbers: The Traditional Hebrew Text with the New JPS Translation (JPS Torah Commentary 4; Philadelphia / ​New York: The Jewish Publication Society, 1990), 51. According to B. J. Diebner, “Der sog. ‘Aaronitische Segen’ (Num 6, 24–26) – biblischer Text und liturgische Praxis,” in Freude am Gottesdienst: Festschrift für Frieder Schulz (ed. H. Riehm; Heidelberg: Selbstverl.d. Hrsg., 1988), 201–218, here 216, the singular is addressed at “the collective person of the community” (“‘Kollektiv-Person’ der Gemeinde”). 40 Priestly texts do not contain it very often. But we find an intentional change from plural to singular for instance in Deut 4:8–15, one of the last passages of the Pentateuch. To the hermeneutical function of the change cf. E. Otto, Deuteronomium 1–11: Erster Teilband: 1,1–4,43 (HThKAT; Freiburg / ​Basel / ​Wein: Herders, 2012), 567.

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How do the contents of the three lines relate to each other? The parallel structure shows a particularly strong relationship.41 The different formulas of blessing shown above suggest that there is a synthetic relationship of formulas in Num 6 as well. One could say that the blessing realizes itself through the sequential statements and their special contents. In every line, there is a relatively open metaphorical message at the beginning, while the second sentence is more specific: Blessing is followed by keeping, shining by forgiving, and turning the face by making peace. Connected with the individual concept of blessing on the whole, the aim of the first line ‫ וישמרך‬in v. 24 is a plea for salvation that we find in several psalms. And “to keep” (‫ )שמר‬is a strong expression of the closeness of God, as for instance in Ps 121:4: “He who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.” ‫ שמר‬alludes to God’s protection and support, especially in dangerous times.42 The second line is, in my opinion, particularly interesting: “The Lord make his face shine …” Scholars have asked if the phrase intends an audience in the sanctuary.43 But even if this is one aspect of the formulation, the light metaphor is also a reference to the sun, as R. Achenbach has pointed out. If we accept a synthetic connection with the second part of the line, if therefore forgiveness is based on the shining of God’s face, one can assume that the connection reflects a juridical concept. As in Mal 3:20, the sun of righteousness shall shine on the addressee of the blessing. Mal 3 and Num 6, both texts from Persian Israel, use the motif of a merciful affection of Yhwh for his people. For this interpretation we do find support in the reception history of our passage. Psalm 67:2 refers to the Aaronic blessing and paraphrases it44 and afterwards praises Yhwh’s capacity to judge for instance Seybold, Segen, 18. Leitwort of the psalms is ‫שמר‬. In v. 7 we find the phrase ‫ יהוה ישמרך‬which creates a connection to the Aaronic blessing. The interpretation, however, that “[t]he Aaronic blessing is expanded in Psalm 121” (Anderson, Blessing, 271), goes too far. 43 Cf. Seebass, Numeri, 170, who follows F. Hartenstein: “Der übertragene Gebrauch des Wortes ‘erleuchten’ hat seinen Sitz im Kultus, im Segen der Priester (vgl. Num 6,25; Ps 31,17; 67,2 u. a.). Der Priestersegen bewirkt, daß Gott sein Angesicht leuchten läßt.” F. Hartenstein, Das Angesicht JHWHs: Studien zu seinem höfischen und kultischen Bedeutungshintergrund in den Psalmen und in Exodus 32–34 (FAT 55; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2008), 194. However, this interpretation does not exclude a connection to the metaphor of the sun. 44 Cf. S. Seiler, Text-Beziehungen: Zur intertextuellen Interpretation alttestamentlicher Texte am Beispiel ausgewählter Psalmen (BWA(N)T 202; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2013), 70. This assumption presupposes that Ps 67 was composed later than Num 6. According to C. Süssenbach, Der elohistische Psalter: Untersuchungen zur Komposition und Theologie von Ps 42–83 (FAT II 7; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 222; F.-L. Hossfeld, “Der Elohistische Psalter Ps 42–83: Entstehung und Programm,” in The Composition of the Book of Psalms (ed. E. Zenger; BETL 238; Leuven: Peeters, 2010) 199–213, here 212 (following S. Gillingham); and E. Zenger et al., Einleitung in das Alte Testament (Kohlhammer Studienbücher Theologie 1:1; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2012), 443, it belongs to the prehistory of the Aaronic blessing. Num 6 could then be understood as an answer to the metaphor in Ps 67:5. Be that as it may the psalm uses a known blessing formulation that belongs to the tradition history of the Aaronic blessing. 41 Cf.

42 The

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and to sentence. The same can be seen in the paraphrase of the blessing in the Community Rule of Qumran already mentioned. Its blessing is also connected to the judging and sentencing nature of Yhwh, albeit with a different intention. The third line can be understood as a continuation of this juridical connotation. The formulation ‫ נשא פנים‬in ‫“ ישא יהוה פניו אליך‬the Lord may turn his face toward you”45 is also often used in juridical contexts.46 Leuenberger tried to explain the phrase concerning the shining of the face mentioned previously in a different way. In his opinion, the sentence expresses a positive attitude of Yhwh (“positive Gestimmtheit”).47 According to Spieckermann, the formulation serves to introduce the second part of the verse, “to give him peace, now perceived as the new status established by God’s atoning act.”48 The assumption that the verse expresses atonement by God is supported by the common connotation of the phrase. As Seebass assumes, the term usually prohibits the distinction of a person in court.49 This association cannot have been unnoticed by the intended addressees. If it is a signal for the reader or listeners,50 the phrase ‫ ישא יהוה פניו עליך‬in Num 6:26 can be seen as connected with the second part of the preceding line, 6:25, which ends with ‫ויחנך‬. In this perspective ‫ נשא פנים‬and ‫“ חנן‬being graceful” work as synonymous phrases. And it is noteworthy that both phrases exist side by side in the parallelism of a curse in Deut 28:50: “a fierce-looking nation without respect for the old or pity for the young.” Accordingly, our context must be interpreted as a promise of mercy instead of judgement. That which is excluded from court and in trial51 is what the blessing promises before the face of the divine judge. Again, the reception history shows that this interpretation is on the right track. Perhaps for the Community Rule of Qumran such a comprehensive plea for mercy was problematic. Thus, the community denied the promise of universal mercy and replaced it by the blessing for the elected men while the curse was poured on the others. Because the cardinal reconciliation in Num 6 is connected with the cultic institutions of the Second Temple, it is not surprising that the last line ends with the commitment of shalom.52 The term, which refers to the order of the world, is 45 According to Spieckermann, “YHWH,” 179, the shorter form of the Ketev Hinom fragments shows that the phrase is an addition to Num 6. But taking it out would remove the climax of the Aaronic blessing and destroy its artfully designed structure. 46 Cf. Seebass, Numeri, 175. 47 So Leuenberger, Segen, 166, following M. I. Gruber, “The Many Faces of Hebrew ‫נשא‬ ‫‘ פנים‬Lift up the Face’,” ZAW 95 (1983), 252–260, here 253. 48 Spieckermann, “YHWH,” 179. 49 Cf. Seebass, Numeri, 175. 50 The tension between this formulation and other uses of the phrase already attracted attention in antiquity. In the Babylonian Talmud (b. Ber. 20b; b. Roš Haš. 18a) the rabbis compared Num 6:26a with Deut 10:17 and tried to explain their literary relationship in different ways. 51 Cf. Lev 19:5, Deut 10:17. 52 Striking is the reception history. The community scroll of Qumran uses the Aaronic blessing but promises it only for the righteous and announces a curse for the sinners.

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applied to the individual and, beyond him and beyond Israel, to the world as a whole. It seems that Num 6 is linked to the creation account and to the blessing given to humankind in Gen 1:28.53 It is the comprehensive context of blessing which Num 6 recalls and promises to the Israelites. In its center is the forgiving grace of the God of Israel. Forgiveness and reconciliation mediated from the central shrine in words given by God himself – this is what Num 6:24–26 presents. The fact that the name of God – the Tetragrammaton – is mentioned three times, which was sometimes called unnecessary,54 marks the source of salvation. B. The Signal Function of the Special Form of the Aaronic Blessing On this basis, it is worth taking a glance at the artfully designed form of the blessing. Considering the number of words used, the lines form the scheme 3–5–7.55 The total sum of these numbers is fifteen. G. J. Wenham subtracts the “thricerepeated name of the Lord”56 and assumes that the “twelve words left, no doubt symbolizing the twelve tribes of Israel.”57 Most likely, it is no coincidence that fifteen is also the numerical value of the Name of God, the Tetragrammaton. One could argue, of course, that playing games with numbers is a very late practice of Jewish mysticism. In Midr. Num Rab. we find several solutions.58 However, we also have an example in Gen 14:14, within the Bible, that such a practice had already begun in antiquity.59 If the value of the Hebrew letters was known and used in the Persian period, one could try to explain the pattern of the count of the letters within the Aaronic blessing. The lines contain 15, 20, and 25 letters, together 60, four times 15, and the increase of 5 plus 10 between the lines again is fifteen. One could be tempted to search for a meaning for such an order of numbers 15/20/25 as the rabbis do. Possibly ‫יה כ כה‬ – “Such is the Lord!”60 as Ps 144:15 expresses it: “Blessed is the people of whom this is true; blessed is the 53 C. Dohmen, Mose: der Mann, der zum Buch wurde (Biblische Gestalten 24; Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2011), 85, speaks of the origin of the Aaronic blessing as God’s blessing in the divine blessing of humankind in Gen 1:27. 54 Cf. Noth, Numeri, 53. 55 For the meaning of the numbers of the syllables cf. G. J. Wenham, Numbers: An Introduction and Commentary (TOTC 4; Leicester: Inter-Varsity Press, 1981), 89 f. It seems that its numbers increase also continuously: 12, 14, 16. Cf. D. N. Freedman, “The Aaronic Benediction (Numbers 6:24–26),” in Pottery, Poetry and Prophecy: Studies in early Hebrew poetry (ed. D. N. Freedman; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1980), 229–242, 230. 56 Wenham, Numbers, 90. 57 Wenham, Numbers, 90. 58 Cf. Num Rab. 11. 59 The verse mentions 318 servants of Abram, but we know only one servant by his name: Elieser of Damaskus (Gen 15:2). The value of the letters of the name ‫ אליעזר‬is 1+30+10+70+7+200 together 318 as the number of the servants according to Gen 14:14. Cf. already H. Holzinger, Genesis (Kurzer Handkommentar zum Alten Testament 1; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1898), 144. 60 Given the traditional Jewish form of writing the numbers, one would have to avoid ‫ יה‬and write ‫טו‬.

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people whose God is the Lord.” However, the possibilities to combine the numbers are almost inexhaustible if we take the number of syllables into consideration, and therefore no speculation about their intention can be proven.61 However, it is no overstatement that a unique form of a text presents a unique theological message and especially that the name of God plays an important role in the message. The singular form of the suffixes is necessary as the mentioning of the face in the first part of the third line. The presumption of redactional changes to the text (that there were additional or missing letters) would destroy this extraordinary structure of Num 6:24–26.62 It is this written form of the blessing that serves as the cornerstone for the tabernacle. Form, content, concluding interpretation and the position in the book of Numbers are all interrelated. Of course the Aaronic blessing had its pre-stages as the Ketef Hinom amulets show, but the blessing is entirely original in its presentation of Num 6.

IV. The Blessing and the Name Theology – Num 6:27 Even if there is no means of evaluating the last suggestions for an explanation of the form, the form itself is proof enough that the extraordinary structure of the blessing, which refers to the name of the God of Israel, serves to mediate its important message. Form and content are in accord with each other and are emphasized by the repeated invocation of the name in the presence of the people of Israel. Hence, it is not surprising that the blessing in Num 6:27 is followed by an interpretation that deals with the name of God itself. ‫וׂשמו את־ׁשמי על־בני יׂשראל ואני אברכם‬ “So they will put my name on the Israelites, and I will bless them.”

The verse concludes the mediation of the blessing with the description that the priest will put God’s name on the Israelites.63 That description summarizes what the form of the text shows with its possible numerical symbolism and the invocation of the name repeated three times. The metaphor “putting the name on the Israelites” refers to the special form and content of the blessing. The meaning of 61 The LXX could also have intended a connection to the name. The Greek form of the blessing contains 26 words, which could follow the count of the entire Tetragrammaton. The Greek manuscripts from Qumran which contain the Tetragrammaton in Hebrew letters show that the particular Hebrew form and its connotation could be known in the Greek Jewish communities. 62 The blessing in the Samaritan Pentateuch contains 61 letters. This difference, created by the plene writing of ‫ יאיר‬in v. 25, shows in particular the vulgar text nature of the Samaritan Pentateuch. For the term cf. U. Schattner-Rieser, “Prä-, Proto‑ und Antisamaritanisches in den Qumrantexten,” in Qumran aktuell: Texte und Themen der Schriften vom Toten Meer (ed. S. Beyerle and J. Frey; BThS 120; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchner Verlag, 2011), 67–109, here 87. 63 The revelation of the name and the promise of salvation are also connected in Exod 34:6 and following. Cf. Seebass, Numeri, 176.

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the summarizing verse can be understood if we take a glance at the communication structure of the entire passage. ‫ וידבר יהוה אל משה לאמר‬22 ‫   דבר אל אהרן ואל בניו לאמר‬23aα ‫      כה תברכו את בני ישראל אמור להם‬23aβb ‫         יברכך‬26–24 ‫   ושמו את שמי על בני ישראל ואני אברכם‬27

As I said before, the text starts with an impersonal narrative situation (level one – L1), followed by the speech of God who commands Moses to tell Aaron and his sons the next passage (L2). It seems that 23aβb is a kind of a priestly instruction (L3). The following vv. 24–26 contain the wording of the blessing on another embedded level (L4). Verse 27 does not belong to the blessing (L4), and the verse is also not directed as an instruction of Moses to the priests (L3).64 The use of the first person unmistakably shows that the verse belongs to the same level of communication as v. 23aα, namely L2: God himself gives the interpretation of the concept and this interpretation is given to Moses and, with him, to the addressees of the book of Numbers.65 “Putting the name on the Israelites” is an expression that is related to the text that precedes the blessing. When giving the blessing they – the priests – will “put my name on the Israelites.” And then – and only then, one could add – “I will bless them.” This last sentence makes it quite clear that even if blessing in the Bible and beyond was sometimes seen as something magical, here it is the free saving action of God.66 B. J. Diebner, however, sees a problem in the shift from God’s command to bless the people of Israel (23aβ) to the promise of God to bless them (27b). However, it seems to me that both phrases only refer to different aspects of the same matter. While the verb ‫ ברך‬in 23aβ refers to the priestly service it describes the divine deed behind it in 27b.67 There is no tension in the framing verses. Verse 27, however, is extraordinary. On the level of the speech of God, an interpretation of the blessing and its bestowal is suggested which takes into account the form and content of the text. The use of the authority of the speech of God and the mediation of Moses in this final explanation can be understood if we consider the diversity of blessing formulas and blessing concepts in ancient Israel and in its environment. At the end, the reader of the book of Numbers, or its listeners, should be encouraged to come to the temple where this form of blessing was given, to the place where the worship of Yhwh alone was practised, to priests who stood in the service of this God. It cannot be by chance that the phrase “putting the name onto the Israelites” recalls one particular form of the centralization Seebass, Numeri, 175 f. explanations are relatively rare. Cf. Lev 6:10; 7:34; 16:2. 66 According to Noth, Numeri, 53, the verse serves the aim “um an der alleinigen göttlichen Wirksamkeit, für die der Priester lediglich Vermittler ist, keinen Zweifel zu lassen.” 67 Differently in the Samaritan Pentateuch with imperative masc. pl. ‫ושימו‬. 64 So

65 Such

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formula68 in Deut 12:5: “But you shall seek the place Yhwh your God will choose from among all your tribes to put his Name there for his dwelling, and there you shall go.” The content of the blessing and the interpretations of the frame together serve to express the particular virtue of the blessing and the locus of its mediation. Indeed the blessing is based on related stages, but in Num 6 the content and its frame seem to be created for each other.69 That it is God himself and not the priest who blesses is already clear in the blessing itself, because it is formulated as a plea to God.70 Therefore, v. 27 is seamlessly connected to the blessing which vv. 22–23 introduces with the highest authority imaginable. Therefore, there must be a connection between the intention of v. 27 and the allusion to the name theology: Num 6:27 emphasises the exclusiveness of the blessing given by the Aaronide priests at the temple of Yhwh. And the presence of Yhwh is not only alluded to but expressed as a fact by God himself, because the verse is uttered from the perspective of Yhwh himself: I will bless them. Only there at the temple of Yhwh and not at the temples of other gods, could one receive salvation. For salvation, one could only go there, and not to temples of Yaho such as the temple in Elephantine, where other deities were still mentioned, or in Beth El,71 where the heavenly court was once venerated. Only this blessing assured the reconciliation of Yhwh with his people and only at the postexilic temple for which the Pentateuch was composed it was possible to receive it. The pragmatic dimension shows that the relationship between Yhwh and the Israelites changed at the end of the Persian period. Thus, the name of God, “my name,” which takes the form of the blessing, represents the God to whom the name refers. By the metaphorical “putting the name on the Israelites,” Yhwh takes them into his possession.72 One is reminded of Num 17 and 18, where the name of Aaron is written on the staff of Levi and the tribe becomes the possession of the Aaronide priests. In this way the concluding verse not only connects the blessing in its special form and content with a particular priesthood and with the elected place but also its context as a whole. It intends to canonize the Aaronic blessing through the authority of Moses against different inner-biblical and extra-biblical possibilities and versions. The text tries to make the place and the institution in its background plausible to the intended readers. This shows that R. D. Cole, Numbers (NAC 3B; Nashville: Broadman & Holman, 2000), 132. Spieckermann, “YHWH,” 179: “It is obvious in Num 6,22–27 that the introductory as well as the concluding frame in vv. 22–23 and 27 belong to different Priestly authors emphasizing different aspects [of] how to understand the blessing.” 70 Spieckermann, “YHWH,” 179: “Eventually, a later Priestly writer adds in v. 27 the subtle theological distinction that the Aaronide priesthood when performing the blessing no more than confers God’s name on the Israelites. The very act of blessing is up to YHWH himself.” 71 Cf. esp. Jer 48:13, and regarding the interpretation of Bet El cf. Heckl, “Inside the Canon,” 371–375. 72 Cf. Milgrom, Numbers, 52. 68 Cf.

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the Pentateuch, in its most Priestly part, is not meant to be read only by priests, but by Jews / ​Israelites, who should be persuaded by the Pentateuch and by the form of the blessing to accept the faith of the God who was worshipped at the Second Temple.

V. The Compositional Intention of Num 6:22–27 and its Pragmatics Num 6:22–27 was created as a supplementary pericope. The revelation of the blessing concludes the furnishing of the tent of meeting at the end of the Mount Sinai pericope. After Lev 9 and other texts that make mention of a blessing, it indicates that the special form of the priestly blessing is an innovation. Its revelation by God and the mediation by Moses to the priests serve to provide evidence for this innovation. Thereby it was supposed to replace older cultic forms and religious practices of blessing. Eventually this intention of the Aaronic blessing in Num 6 supports a view of a successive composition of the Priestly books of the Pentateuch in their finished form.73 It is interesting that we find another example of the use of such a supplementary position outside the Pentateuch. In Neh 8 the people of Israel discover and adapt the correct practice of the Feast of the Booths during the public reading of and listening to the Torah in the seventh month.74 That context presupposes that Ezra reads Lev 23, according to which the Israelites then celebrate the feast. As an answer to the diversity of blessing in the religious world of ancient Israel, the position of the Aaronic blessing at the end of the Mount Sinai pericope plays an important role as a hermeneutical key for other blessing contexts in the Pentateuch. Although the book of Numbers does not contain another scene of blessing besides the Balaam-story, in the book of Deuteronomy the blessing is an important subject on all literary levels. As mentioned above Deuteronomy uses the promise of blessing in order to motivate the intended addressees to keep the commandments of the Deuteronomic law. Here, blessing is synonymous with the salvific act of God. The placing of Num 6:22–27 before the conditional promise of blessing in Deuteronomy is a very strong signal which serves to recontextualize the Deuteronomic concept of blessing. After the introduction of the cultic mediation of the blessing in Num 6, the Deuteronomic blessing which is meant to be dependent on the obedience of the people becomes something like a commitment of future salvation through the mediation of the cult at the central shrine. 73 Cf. C. Nihan, “The Holiness Code between D and P. Some Comments on the Function and Significance of Leviticus 17–26 in the Composition of the Torah,” in Das Deuteronomium zwischen Pentateuch und Deuteronomistischem Geschichtswerk (ed. E. Otto and R. Achenbach; FRLANT 206; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2004), 81–122, here 121. 74 Cf. A. Steinmann, Ezra and Nehemiah (ConcC; St. Louis: Concordia, 2010), 516.

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VI. Summary This study of Num 6:24–26 may be summarized in five points. 1. In Lev 9:22–24 we find an early Priestly text with a blessing scene. However, only in Num 6 does the blessing appear in its final form and content. This supplementation means that the form of the blessing in Num 6 was not perceived as standard but as an innovation. Against other forms, within and outside the Bible, against the different forms of the blessing on amulets and in other contexts, Num 6 fixed and canonized the blessing with an exact number of words and letters. It was placed before the concluding remark on the furnishing of the tent of meeting and at the very end of the Mount Sinai pericope. There it serves as something like a literary capstone created in late Persian time. 2. The innovation is directed against the conditioned blessing of Deuteronomic and Deuteronomistic theology and at the same time reacts to the extra-biblical forms of blessing. It presents a theology of reconciliation based on the rebuilt temple. 3. In the framing verses the blessing is designated for the Israelites. The pericope presupposes a scenario in which the priests act towards the assembly of the people of Israel. That the blessing, like inner-biblical and extra-biblical examples, uses the singular does not preclude an original connection of frame and blessing. Instead, the change from plural to singular indicates that it is the individual who would receive the blessing. That, however, has relevance for the collective as a whole. Every single Israelite receives the blessing and by his identification with the collective, the relationship between Yhwh and the people becomes established. 4. The blessing and its framework are a single, integral composition. Neither the blessing nor the framework alone could exist in the context of Num 6. The change from the plural to the singular between frame and blessing does not support the argument for a redactional addition. And the interpretation of the blessing in the concluding v. 27 does not contradict the introduction and the wording of the blessing. Instead, all discussed aspects taken together show that Num 6:22–27 presents a comprehensive concept with respect to its form as well as its content: 1) the position of the pericope of the blessing as the last element of the tent of meeting, 2) the introduction which establishes the particular authority of the blessing, 3) the unconditional promise of salvation by the thrice repeated invocation of the name of Yhwh, 4) the function of the structure and the number of the words and letters as a signal for the Tetragrammaton, 5) the interpretation of the blessing in v. 27 as the “putting of the name of God on the Israelites” by the priests, in which God himself grants the salvation. The entire passage is artfully designed and created for its context and at the same time meant to be used in the cult at the temple. This challenges directly the speculation about secondary additions within the passage. Taking away parts of the text would destroy the art-

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ful composition while at the same time it is hard to imagine that an interpolator could create it by addition. 5. Numbers 6 is a step on the way toward the canonization of Torah. The authority of Moses as the mediator of the will of God is used to privilege one text and its usage and together with it the entire complement of older passages and their priestly interpretations. This happens not by political pressure but by persuasion. The Israelites are to receive the blessing in that form as an expression of acceptance of (and identification with) the form of the relationship to God according to the priestly composed Torah that is proclaimed at the Second Temple.

Dating Texts to the Persian Period The Case of Isaiah 63:7–64:11 Richard J. Bautch

I. Introduction With regard to dating texts to the Persian period – early, middle, or late – the case of Isa 63:7–64:11 is an enigma. Some scholars date the passage very early, pre-Persian in fact. Westermann thought that the psalm came into being not long after the fall of Jerusalem in 587 b.c.e., and Lena-Sophia Tiemeyer has similarly concluded that Isa 63:7–64:11 “probably stems from early post-monarchic Judah.”1 H. G. M. Williamson also favors the exilic period, when Isa 63:7–64:11 served, in his opinion, as “a penitential liturgy probably recited on the ruined site of the temple.”2 An early Persian-period dating of 538–520 b.c.e. is argued by Elisabeth Pascal-Gerlinger in her Strassbourg dissertation, and in a classic study from 1929 Laurence Browne situated the text in Samaria around 518 b.c.e.3 The middle Persian period, or the 5th century, is generally not associated with Isa 63:7–64:11, although in his work on the Jerusalem temple community Julian Morgenstern posited a date of 485 for this portion of Isaiah.4 A slightly later date in the middle of the 5th century was offered by Duhm and maintained by J. D. W. Watts in his Word Biblical Commentary.5 Finally, Isa 63:7–64:11 fits best in the context of the late Persian period according to the analyses of Odil Hannes Steck, and Steck has been followed by Jonathan Goldenstein and Judith Gärtner in dating the text to the end of the 4th century when Hellenism began to have an 1 C. Westermann, Isaiah 40–66 (OTL; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1969), 386; L.-S. Tiemeyer, “The Lament in Isaiah 63:7–64:11 and Its Literary and Theological Place in Isaiah 40–66,” in The Book of Isaiah: Enduring Questions Answered Anew. Essays Honoring Joseph Blenkinsopp and His Contribution to the Study of Isaiah (ed. R. J. Bautch and J. T. Hibbard; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2014), 52–77, here 54. 2 H. G. M. Williamson, “Isaiah 63:7–64:11: Exilic Lament or Post-exilic Protest?” ZAW 102 (1990), 58. 3 E. Pascal-Gerlinger, “Isaïe 63,7–64,11. Etude littéraire et théologique.” (PhD diss., Strass­bourg, 1984), 120–126, 159; L. E. Browne, Early Judaism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1929), 78–79. 4 J. Morgenstern, “Jerusalem – 485 b.c.e.,” HUCA 27 (1956), 60. 5 J. D. W. Watts, Isaiah 34–66 (WBC 25; Waco, TX: Word, 1987), 331. Coincidentally, Bernard Duhm dated the text shortly before the visit of Nehemiah to Jerusalem in 444. See his Das Buch Jesaia (HKAT 3/1; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1892).

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impact in Judea.6 One can only conclude that in dating this late text from Isaiah we, collectively, are everywhere, and so nowhere. This essay’s objective is to examine anew the prayer of lament in Trito-Isaiah. Through textual analysis I will propose a date that is late in the Persian period. To reach this determination I will use temporal criteria and the method of correlation. That is, I will correlate data from Isa 63:7–64:11 with the formation of the Pentateuch, which also took place in the Persian period. Pentateuchal formation is a serviceable corollary in this case because, as with the book of Isaiah, a literary collection passes through critical stages of development toward its final form. With pentateuchal formation, we can identify three of these critical stages and date them to points early, midway, and late in the Persian period. By the 6th or 5th century, a narrative of origins encompassed D in the form of Deuteronomy and concluded with the book of Joshua’s account of settling the land.7 Joshua’s covenant at Shechem is the pinnacle of this narrative sequence, which was designed to rival the founding legends of other nations. This six-book collection formed a Hexateuch and did not include P material. Subsequently, in the middle to late Persian period, support was sought for the combination of the (non-P) Hexateuch of Israel’s origins and the then separate and distinct Priestly narrative.8 The formation of this comprehensive document, the combined P / ​ non-P Hexateuch, quite likely dates to the first half of the 4th century, and the indications of this are multiple. In postexilic texts such as the Nehemiah Memoir and Haggai-Zechariah, pentateuchal traditions are attested piecemeal and fragmentarily or not at all; the early part of the Persian period provides no evidence of a narrative of origins that consolidates the P and D traditions.9 By the end of 6 O. H. Steck, Studien zu Tritojesaja (BZAW 203; Berlin / ​New York: de Gruyter, 1991), 238; J. Goldenstein, Das Gebet der Gottesknechte: Jesaja 63,7–64,11 im Jesajabuch (WMANT 92; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2001), 246–247; J. Gärtner, Jesaja 66 und Sacharja 14 als Summe der Prophetie: eine traditions‑ und redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zum Abschluss des Jesaja‑ und des Zwölfprophetenbuches (WMANT 114; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2006), 261–272. 7 For a fuller account of this Deuteronomic narrative of origins, see R. J. Bautch, “Holy Seed: Ezra 9–10 and the Formation of the Pentateuch,” in The Formation of the Pentateuch: Bridging the Academic Cultures of Europe, Israel and North America (ed. J. C. Gertz et al.; FAT 111; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 524–542, here 525. 8 At this point, P included the H material that had been joined to it at a point relatively early in the Persian period. P would soon incorporate a later stratum of redactional material (e. g. Lev 11:44–45, 20:22–26) that harmonized the text with the D narrative of origins (Hexateuch) as the two were combined. 9 For a discussion of the Nehemiah Memoir not citing Torah, see D. Polaski, “Nehemiah: Subject of the Empire, Subject of Writing,” in New Perspectives on Ezra-Nehemiah: History and Historiography, Text, Literature and Interpretation (ed. I. Kalimi; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2012), 37–59, here 41. Regarding the postexilic prophets, see for example Hag 2:10–14, esp. 11, where Haggai requests an instruction (‫ )תורה‬that speaks to a certain sacrificial rite, and Zech 7:12, where Zechariah refers to a distinct form of prophetic revelation with the word ‫תורה‬. These and other contemporary references to torah suggest that at this time there was no whole greater than the sum of the parts.

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the Persian period and the beginning of the Hellenistic period, however, there are exegetical works such as 1–2 Chronicles that are based upon a combined P / ​nonP Hexateuch. Another clear witness to “the formation of a combined P / ​non-P Hexateuch”10 is the narrative of Ezra’s mission (Ezra 7–10), whose composition dates to the 4th century, the middle or late Persian period. Finally, the late 4th century witnessed the formation of the Pentateuch, the literary entity extending from Genesis to Deuteronomy, without the book of Joshua. This Pentateuch is first and foremost a monument to Moses who in these five books is primarily mediator of the law but also prophet, warrior, and intercessor. The Mosaic design and purpose of the Pentateuch comes into focus when one considers redactional insertions in Deuteronomy, namely Deut 34:4, 7, 10–12. These passages offer details around the death of Moses. As Konrad Schmid has shown, these redactional verses connect Deut 34 with material in Genesis to intone overarching Pentateuchal motifs such as “the promise of the land, the status of Torah as arch-prophecy superior to regular prophecy, and […] a theology of fate that completes traditional notions such as grace and the interrelationship between sin and sanction.”11 To sum this all up, the process of textual formation in the Persian period gave rise to the Dbased Hexateuch in the period’s early phase, the combined P / ​non-P Hexateuch in the middle-to-late phase, and the Pentateuch in the latest phase. In the next section, I correlate data from this process with another process, the composition of the lament prayer in Isa 63:7–64:11.

II. The Mosaic Character of Isa 63:7–64:11 There are six parts to the prayer in Trito-Isaiah: (1) a historical section (63:7–14); (2) a lament (63:15–63:19a) followed by (3) an appeal for a theophany (63:19b– 64:4a); (4) a confession of sin (64:4b–6); (5) a final appeal that both asserts confidence (64:7–8) and issues a second lament (64:9–10); and (6) a conclusion (64:11). In terms of content and sequence, the prayer’s form-critical repertoire compares well with that established for the psalms of communal lamentation.12 10 The Ezra narrative may be dated to the latter half of the Persian period or the early Hellenistic period. As David Carr notes, “[…] the positive depiction of the Persian role in the return, rebuilding and institution of Torah in the Rebuilding-Ezra Narrative may suggest a dating still during the Persian period, since later, post-Persian-period scribes probably had little reason to assert so strenuously that the Persians has supported each stage of the rebuilding process.” See his The Formation of the Hebrew Bible: A New Reconstruction (Oxford / ​New York: Oxford University Press, 2011), 208. 11 K. Schmid, “Later Persian Formation of the Torah: Observations on Deuteronomy 34,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Fourth Century B. C. E. (ed. O. Lipschits et al.; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2007), 237–251, here 251. 12 See R. J. Bautch, Developments in Genre between Post-Exilic Penitential Prayers and the Psalms of Communal Lament (SBLAnBib 7; Atlanta: SBL – Leiden / ​Boston: Brill, 2003), 35–37, 48.

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The prayer’s theology also relates to the psalms of lamention; the impetus of Isaiah’s prayer is strain placed upon the people’s relationship with God when instability and vulnerability come to characterize the covenant.13 The covenantal nature of the human-divine relationship is established in 63:7–14, and the strain upon the relationship is evident throughout the prayer, especially in the laments in 63:15–19a and 64:9–10. The two laments contain images of sacred structures destroyed by foreign powers (63:18, 64:9–10) who then taunt the people and their God (63:19a). When the site of destruction is revealed to be Jerusalem (64:9), it becomes clear that the text has some connection to the events of 587 b.c.e. Rather than a historical description, however, Isa 63:7–64:11 reads more like a theological reflection on the experience of loss and exile. The vivid images of a sanctuary desecrated and burned after God’s people possessed it a short time are transhistorical and therefore do not cohere easily with any historical reconstruction. Isaiah 63:7–64:11 is a study of strain placed upon the people’s relationship with God as occasioned by historical events not limited to the 6th century. A cross current of hope runs through the lament. God’s holiness (63:11) is the source of hope, and Moses is hope’s agent. Curiously, neither Abraham nor Israel help the people in need because the patriarchs do not know them (63:16). God alone helps, through the person of Moses. Moses is prominent in the historical recital, first when the former times are remembered warmly (63:11) and then when the prophet becomes synonymous with God’s power as it is set within the imagery of exodus (63:12): “Where is the one placing his holy spirit in their midst, causing his glorious arm to go at the right hand of Moses and parting the sea before them to make for himself an everlasting name?” God’s glorious arm is at the right hand of Moses; the bodily association of Moses with God is striking. It would seem both share as well in the eternity (‫)עולם‬ of the name made famous by the parting of the sea. Both share in the glory (‫ )תפארת‬accorded that name later in 63:14. Emblematic of God, Moses is the most prominent human figure in Isaiah’s recital of history. Moreover, he is the last great leader presented; the prayer includes nothing of biblical history after the death of Moses. To conclude the history with Moses suppresses the conquest and places Moses at the center of Israel’s great antiquity. Such is the treatment of Moses by the Isaiah tradents and by the designers of the Pentateuch late in the 4th century. With these writers we associate Deut 34:10–12, which reads: Never since has there arisen a prophet in Israel like Moses, whom the LORD knew face to face. He was unequaled for all the signs and wonders that the LORD sent him to perform in the land of Egypt, against Pharaoh and all his servants and his entire land, and for all the mighty deeds and all the terrifying displays of power that Moses performed in the sight of all Israel. 13 See Bautch, Developments, 40, and J. Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 56–66: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 19b; New York: Doubleday, 2003), 259–260.

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While Abraham did not know the people of God (Isa 63:18), God knew Moses face to face, according to Deut 34:10. Deuteronomy 34:12 describes all the mighty deeds of Moses as ‫ כל היד החזקה‬, literally “and in all that mighty hand,” while the prayer of Isaiah enjoins Moses’ right hand, indicated by ‫לימין‬, with God’s glorious arm, ‫זרוע תפארתו‬, and together they part the sea.14 Finally, in Deuteronomy Moses’ renown extends across all of Israel ‫כל־יׂשראל‬, while the speaker of the lament in Trito-Isaiah typically refers to his community most inclusively, as “all of us” (64:7, 8). These three lexical contacts between the two texts coincide with a greater sense of Mosaic preeminence in both Isa 63:7–64:11 and Deut 34:10–12. Consider that the deliverance from Egypt is the defining event in the story of Moses and is attested in all of the historical recitals and historical psalms in the Hebrew Bible. Curiously, Moses is not mentioned by name in most of these summaries (Amos 2:10; Ps 80, 136), including two in Deuteronomy (Deut 6:21, 26:7–8). He is mentioned in both the texts here under discussion, the prayer of lament in Trito-Isaiah and Deut 34, with both metonymically associating his greatness with his hand. While there is not enough evidence to conclude that one of these texts is dependent upon the other, they belong to the same late milieu. With regards to the significance of Moses, there is a suggestive correlation between the prayer in Isa 63:7–64:11 and the Pentateuch as it was created from the Hexateuch late in the 4th century.

III. Deuteronomic Thought in Isa 63:7–64:11 Alongside Mosaic motifs, another distinguishing feature of the lament prayer in Isa 63:7–64:11 is the pervasive influence of Deuteronomic thought and theology. A study of D influence in Isa 63:7–64:11 will consider the terminology representative of this pentateuchal source in each of the prayer’s sections.15 The study focuses on terms having to do with wrongdoing and retribution but includes all terms that in any way support D and/or Dtr thinking. The data from that study follow three distinct lines. A. Isaiah 63:11 Isaiah 63:11 is keynoted by ‫ויזכר‬, “but he remembered.” Of this expression, Joseph Blenkinsopp observes: “The first step toward restoring the broken relationship between people and their God is to remember (v. 11), an injunction in 14 Although the Hebrew lacks the word ‫יד‬, or hand, Isa 63:12 is invariably translated “the right hand of Moses.” The warrant is Isa 62:8, ‫נשבע יהוה בימינו ובזרוע עזו‬, “the LORD has sworn by his right [hand] and his mighty arm”; in the context of swearing an oath, the expression ‫ בימינו‬can only mean “right hand,” and the same holds for ‫ לימין‬in Isa 63:12. 15 See Bautch, Developments, 55–61.

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keeping with one of the most prominent motifs in Deuteronomy – recollection of, in the sense of active engagement with, the historical traditions of Exodus and wilderness journey.”16 Blenkinsopp reads the verb as a third-person plural, but whether the people or God is the subject the point essentially remains the same. Remembering the days of old, remembering Moses is a Deuteronomic commonplace.17 The expression fits especially well at this juncture of Isaiah’s prayer because in the previous verse God turned against the people as an enemy and fought them (63:10). The first step toward restoring the broken relationship is remembrance, ‫ויזכר‬, according to Deuteronomy. Coincidentally, the expression ‫ ויזכר‬in Isa 63:11 conforms as well to patterns of divine speech in P, or the writings of the Priestly authors. Moshe Weinfeld notes that “the pledge of God to keep his promise in connection with Noah and Abraham is expressed in P by ‫‘ זכר‬deliberate’ (recall), as in Exod 20:8, which is equivalent to hasasu found in the Assyrian grants.”18 This finding makes sense of why the subject of the verb ‫ ויזכר‬in Isa 63:11 is first person singular, God. Moreover, the practice of divine recollection in P is more than mental remembering. In P, as in Isa 63:11, the Hiphil of ‫ זכר‬has “this fuller sense of a significant retrieval of the past, a bringing of the past into the present by means of liturgical action, whether recited or sung.”19 If P or the Priestly complexion of this verse in Isaiah is established here in 63:11a, it is continued in 11c, which reads, “Where is the one placing his Holy Spirit in their midst?” (‫)איה השם בקרבו את־רוח קדשו‬. The phrase “his holy spirit” is uncommon and is likely a late expression given that its only other attestation vis-à-vis God is in Neh 9:20. The phrase also resonates with the Holiness Code in the combined P / ​non-P Hexateuch. Epitomizing the code of holiness is Lev 19:2, which reads: “Speak to all the congregation of the people of Israel and say to them: You shall be holy, for I the LORD your God am holy.” One finds the root ‫ קדׁש‬36 times in the chapters of Leviticus in question, 18–26. Thus it seems that the theologoumenon of holiness was held in common by the writers/redactors of Leviticus and those responsible for Isa 63:7–64:14, who speak of holiness some half dozen times (Isa 63:10, 11, 15, 18; 64:9, 10). Is there dependence in either direction? Any influence of P or H upon the Isaian tradents is indirect and need not be considered unique or univocal; the emphasis on holiness in the lament prayer is consistent with the prophetic speech

Isaiah 56–66, 261. of the many examples of this phenomenon (Deut 5:15, 7:18, 8:2, 9:7, 15:15, 16:3, 12; 24:9, 18, 22; 25:17) occurs in Deut 7:18. When the speaker asks if Israel can defeat the Canaanites, the answer conforms to the Deuteronomic stereotype: “Do not be afraid of them. Keep in mind (‫ )זכר‬what the Lord your God did to Pharaoh and all the Egyptians.” 18 M. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1972), 76. 19 Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 56–66, 260. 16 Blenkinsopp, 17 One

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across the book of Isaiah.20 Nonetheless, Isa 63:11 reflects a P viewpoint alongside that of D or Deuteronomy, and the text shares elements of both traditions. B. Isaiah 63:17b–18a How are we to understand the conjoining of D and P materials in Isa 63:11? Perhaps D and Dtr thought is being nuanced by a P perspective. It could be that P redactional material is being applied selectively as commentary upon other verses in the prayer. A second example of this phenomenon would be Isa 63:18a, which refers to “your holy people” (‫)עם־קדׁשך‬, following closely upon 63:17b, which speaks of servants who ought to fear the Lord but do not. Clearly the holy people and the servants are one and the same. Servants, of course, are a leitmotif in the book of Isaiah as a whole. In the Deuteronomic literature, however, servants can refer to those who serve God through their devotions, and this specific sense of servants is typically amplified by other devotional expressions, such as “fearing the Lord.”21 In Isa 63:17, the reference to servants is preceded directly by a reference to “fear of you,” a combination which echoes Deuteronomy (6:13; 10:12, 20). The speakers in this lament of Isaiah self-identify Deuteronomically, and then speak of themselves in priestly language as “your holy people.” Interestingly, the interplay of D and P phrases around the concept of servanthood extends beyond the lament prayer to other parts of Isaiah written in the Persian period. Isa 61:6 addresses those who have been gifted with the spirit of God and tells them “But you shall be priests of Yhwh and servants of our God.” In the words of Ulrich Berges, “Prophetic charisma and priestly dignity are united in the servants [….]. The promise to those who mourn in Zion that their double portion of shame shall be recompensed with a double portion of the land (61:7) also points in this direction. […] As ‘priests of Yhwh’ they will also receive a second piece of property in their countries.”22 He concludes: “This also reveals a Levitical colouring: The tradents responsible for the final form of the book of Isaiah understand themselves to be ‘priests of Yhwh’ for the nations.”23 As such, these priestly figures associated with the composition of Isaiah know Deuteronomy and seek to observe its precepts (Deut 4:6).

20 A. Aejmelaeus, “Der Prophet als Klageliedsänger: Zur Funktion des Psalms Jes 63,7– 64,11 in Tritojesaja,” ZAW 107 (1995), 38–49. 21 Weinfeld, Deuteronomy, 332. 22 U. Berges, “Kingship and Servanthood in the Book of Isaiah,” in The Book of Isaiah: Enduring Questions Answered Anew. Essays Honoring Joseph Blenkinsopp and His Contribution to the Study of Isaiah (ed. R. J. Bautch and J. T. Hibbard; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2014), 159–178, here 176. 23 Ibid.

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C. Isa 64:4b–5a The interplay of Deuteronomic language and Priestly expressions occurs in the lament prayer’s recital of history (63:11) and in its lament proper (63:17b–18a). A third instance of such interplay occurs in the confession of sin, specifically in Isa 64:4–5. The text reads: “Behold, you grew angry, we have sinned; we are forever (implicated) in them, and we shall be saved? We have all become like the unclean person, and all our righteous deeds like a soiled garment.” First, the Deuteronomic element resides in the dramatization of God becoming angry, ‫קצפת‬. Rainer Albertz highlights the parallel usage of the term in Deut 1:34–35.24 He notes the role these verses play in Deuteronomy’s narrative of the people refusing to enter and possess the land of the Anakim (Deut 1:19–40). This pentateuchal account, as well the parallel in Num 14:11–25b, stems from postexilic lay theologians working in the Deuteronomistic tradition, according to Albertz. In this tradition, ‫ קצפ‬is the trademark expression of God’s anger. The cause of God’s anger is the people’s sin (‫)חטא‬, whose effects make the people unclean (‫)טמא‬, and make their righteous deeds like a soiled garment (‫)כבגד עדים‬. The purity language of the unclean state and soiled garments evoke a Priestly milieu, perhaps that of the cult prophet Haggai. In Hag 2:13, after the priests rule that uncleanness is more contagious than holiness and may be passed on to the third degree, Haggai responds, “So is this people, and so is this nation before me, declares Yhwh and so is every work of their hands, and what they offer there is unclean” (2:14). In Haggai, cultic ritual has been used figuratively to bring into focus the people’s sinfulness; the fundamental issue is repentance.25 In just this manner, the confession of sins in the Isaian lament uses the Priestly terminology of ritual holiness to address ethical holiness: “We have all become like the unclean person, and all our righteous deeds like a soiled garment” (Isa 64:6a). A Priestly impulse has shaped this confession of sins, which blends Deuteronomic language with cultic terminology to counsel ethical holiness. This is further evidence that in Isa 63:7–64:11, the thought of D and Dtr is being nuanced by a P perspective.

IV. Summary and Conclusion The first part of this essay considered the Mosaic character of the historical recital in Isa 63:7–64:11. Between Isa 63:7–64:11 and Deut 34:10–12 we observed three lexical contacts as well as a greater sense of Mosaic preeminence in both texts. Thus, the lament prayer in Isa 63:7–64:11 correlates with the Pentateuch 24 R. Albertz, A History of the Israelite Religion in the Old Testament Period (trans. John Bowden; OTL; 2 vols.; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1994), 627. Trans. of Religions­ geschichte Israels in alttestamentlicher Zeit (ATD; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1992). 25 See D. Hildebrand, “Temple Ritual: Paradigm for Moral Holiness in Haggai 2:10–19,” VT 34 (1989), 165, 168.

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designated as such late in the 4th century. The second part of this paper explored the interplay of Deuteronomic and Priestly language in three verses, Isa 63:11, 63:17b–18a, 64:4b–5a. All three verses indicate a symbiotic relationship between the two pentateuchal traditions P and D inscribed within Isaiah’s late lament prayer. In the first books of the Bible, the fusing together of P and D materials is associated with a developmental stage in the early to mid 4th century, the socalled P / ​non-P Hexateuch. Thus, the evidence here points to Isa 63:7–64:11 being written sometime in the 4th century, toward the end of the Persian period. In light of this late Persian-period dating, it would seem that the lament prayer in Isa 63:7–64:11 reflects back on the experience of exile as it anticipates other abominations visited upon the Jerusalem temple in the Hellenistic and Roman periods. In his analysis of other late material in Isaiah, namely Isa 24:21–23, Berges notes that Isaiah’s depiction of‎‫ יהוה צבאות‬ruling as king upon Mount Zion in Jerusalem evokes the scene of Moses and the seventy elders in Exod 24:9–11.26 In Isa 24:23, however, the elders are no longer with Moses but with ‫ יהוה צבאות‬upon Mount Zion in Jerusalem. The pentateuchal material has been adopted and adapted. Berges suggests that concepts related to Moses and Sinai, that is, D concepts, are to be found in Isaiah “interpreted by the Priestly circles who were simultaneously giving the Pentateuch its shape.”27 He concludes that “the redactional and compositional processes behind the Pentateuch and the prophetic books appear to be far more closely related than has been assumed so far.”28 On the basis of the evidence adduced here from Isa 63:7–64:11, this certainly appears to be the case.

26 Berges, 27 Ibid. 28 Ibid.

“Kingship and Servanthood,” 167.

Dating Esther Historicity and the Provenance of Masoretic Esther Jill Middlemas This happened in the days of Ahasuerus, the same Ahasuerus who ruled over the 127 provinces from India to Ethiopia. (Esth 1:1)1 All the acts of his power and might, and the full account of the high honor of Mordecai, to which the king advanced him, are they not written in the annals of the kings of Media and Persia. (10:2)

The biblical book of Esther is set within the events of the Persian period, but a question remains about whether it was written during that time (539–331 B. C.E). In the 19th and early 20th centuries the consensus on the date of the book was that it stemmed from Hellenistic times (323–31 b.c.e.),2 with questions raised only about its placement within the early or late part of the period, that is before or after Antiochus IV Ephiphanes and the triumph of Judas Maccabeus in 165 b.c.e. Paton represents this view well, notably, in his confident assertion that: “[Esther …] presents no difficulty in problems of dating. There is general agreement that it belongs to the Greek period, and probably to the latter part of the period.”3 There was such general unanimity on this point at the time that Paton attributed this view to Protestant, Jewish, and Catholic scholars.4 The confident assertion of Hellenistic provenance for the scroll of Esther has fallen out of favor in more recent years and now a growing number of interpreters favor a Persian date citing the lack of Hellenistic details in the account and its generally positive attitude towards foreigners. Nevertheless, arguments in favor of Hellenistic provenance remain and a new assessment of the dating of the scroll becomes important given the interest in uncovering sources that contribute to our knowledge of the Persian period as well as the resurgence of arguments for positing the majority of the biblical literature to the Greek period. 1 All

biblical quotations are from the NRSV unless otherwise stated.

2 The Hellenistic period is conventionally dated to the year of the death of Alexander in 324 to

the beginning of the Roman Empire signified in a decisive battle in 31 b.c.e. The Persian Empire fell to Alexander and his army in 331 b.c.e. 3 L. B. Paton, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Book of Esther (ICC; Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1908, rep. 1964), v. 4 Paton, Esther, 54.

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Well over half a century ago, Ackroyd examined the main reasons advanced for the Maccabean dating of some of the biblical literature according to arguments based upon historical reasons, linguistic evidence, quotations, and theological belief, and found them wanting in degrees of persuasiveness.5 The criteria surveyed by Ackroyd remain the major lines of argument for establishing the provenance of MT Esther and the first part of this essay surveys the discussion according to the same categories. A review of the historical, linguistic, and interpretive evidence as well as that from biblical references used in assessments of the date of the composition of the book of Esther reveals a lack of conclusion that can potentially be resolved through attention to other types of questions.6 In particular, the way historians approach source documents raises new investigatory possibilities that have the potential to move the discussion beyond the current impasse.

I. Criteria for Dating the Story of Esther The most prolific type of data used in support of the dating of the scroll is based upon the interpretation of historical details, so it serves as our point of departure in investigating the categories utilized by interpreters in their approach to the dating of MT Esther. In some respects approaching the literature with historical questions in mind is a reasonable position given that the book is presented 5 P. R. Acroyd, “Criteria for the Maccabean Dating of Old Testament Literature,” VT 3 (1953), 113–132. 6 Contributions to dating the scroll consulted for this first section include D. G. Wildboer, “Das Buch Esther,” in Die fünf Megillot (KHC 17; Freiburg: Mohr Siebeck, 1898); Paton, Esther, here 64–77; B. Anderson, “The Book of Esther,” in The Interpreter’s Bible (ed. G. A. Buttrick; New York: Abingdon, 1954), 3:823–874; H. Ringgren, Das Buch Esther (ATD 16,2; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1958), 113–144; H. Bardtke, Das Buch Esther (KAT 17,4/5; Gütersloh: Mohn, 1963); O. Eissfeldt, The Old Testament: An Introduction (trans. P. R. Ackroyd; 3rd ed.; Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1965), 505–512; Carey A. Moore, Esther – A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 7B; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1971), lvii–lx; idem., Daniel, Esther, and Jeremiah: The Additions (AB 44; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1977), 153–252; R. Gordis, Megillat Esther: The Masoretic Text with Introduction, New Translation and Commentary (New York: Rabbinical Assembly, 1972); S. B. Berg, The Book of Esther: Motifs, Themes and Structure (SBLDS 44; Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1979), 169–173; M. V. Fox, Character and Ideology in the Book of Esther (Studies in Biblical Personalities; Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1991), 139–140; M. Hetzler, “The Book of Esther – Where Does Fiction Start and History End?” BibRev 8 (1992), 25–30, 42; C. A. Moore, “Esther, Book of” ABD 2:633–643; F. W. Bush, Ruth, Esther (Waco, TX: Word, 1996); K. J. A. Larkin, Ruth and Esther (OTG; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996, rep. 2000), 78–79; J. D. Levenson, Esther: A Commentary (OTL; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1997); A. Berlin, “The Book of Esther and Ancient Storytelling,” JBL 120 (2001), 3–14; idem., Esther (The JPS Biblical Commentary; Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, 2001); C. L. Meyers, “Esther,” in The Oxford Bible Commentary (ed. J. Barton and J. Muddiman; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 324–330; F. S. Weiland, “Historicity, Genre and Narrative Design in the Book of Esther,” BS 159 (2002), 151–165. Other more directed studies will be cited where appropriate to the discussion.

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as a report from the Persian period composed soon after the events depicted. Esther’s story is presented as an historical account.7 It begins with wayehi “and it came to pass” (1:1) which is found elsewhere in the biblical literature of historical collections,8 purports to be based upon the “Book of the Chronicles of the Kings of Media and Persia” (10:2), and includes realistic elements such as the royal chronicles (2:23; 6:1; 10:2), edicts of the king (1:22; 3:12; 8:9–14), and other historical details that resonate with Persian manners and customs. The author even asserts Mordecai authorship, “Mordecai wrote these things” (9:20 cf. 9:22), which suggests the recording of the story close to the time in which it happened and certain details therein are consistent with what is known of life and customs in the Persian period.9 In addition, as Howard has conveniently summarized in a brief overview to the book of Esther, there are seven points he considers undisputed in accuracy, that is, in their equivalence to actual events or situations that took place within the reign of Xerxes I (486–65 b.c.e.), who is widely thought to be the historical figure equivalent to the biblical Ahasuerus, the Persian monarch of Esther’s story.10 These include the description of Xerxes’ empire as equivalent in size to that depicted in the scroll (1:1; 8:9), the year of the banquet held in the king’s 3rd year (1:3) corresponds to a great Achaemenid council held in 483 according to the Greek historian Herodotus, the 4 year gap between the dismissal of Vashti (1:3) and the summoning of Esther (2:16) equals the period of time when Xerxes was fighting the Greeks, intimate knowledge of Susa and the palace (2:9, 14, 19; 4:11; 6:4; cf. also 1:5; 7:8), consistency with Persian names and terminology, extrabiblical support for the concept of Persian monarchical inerrancy, connections between Vashti and Amestris, the wife of Xerxes, and the actual existence of a Mordecai, active as some type of administrator in Susa during the reign of Xerxes. These details are not as undisputed as Howard suggests, however, and once Mordecai authorship was no longer thought to represent historical fact the de  7 This point is generally agreed upon by interpreters. E. g., Paton, Esther; Moore, Esther; Ringgren, Das Buch Esther; Gordis, “Religion, Wisdom and History,” 375–378; Berg, The Book of Esther; L. M. Wills, The Jewish Novel in the Ancient World (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1995), 93–131; Berlin, Esther, xxvii; S. R. Johnson, “Novelistic Elements in Esther: Persian or Hellenistic? Jewish or Greek?” CBQ 67 (2005), 571–589.   8 Gen 14:1; Ruth 1:1; Isa 7:1; Jer 1:3. Cf. 2 Sam 21:1. E. g., Paton, Esther, 64; Moore, Esther, 3; Berg, The Book of Esther, 2; Weiland, “Historicity,” 156–158, 164; Berlin, Esther, xxvii.   9 The section about the writing of the letters found in Esth 9:20–32 was taken by the church father Clement of Alexandria, as well as many ancient Jewish and Christian scholars, to refer to Mordecai as the author of the book. 10 D. M. Howard, Jr., An Introduction to the Old Testament Historical Books (Chicago: Moody Press, 1993), 366–369, Many of his arguments are based on J. S. Wright, “The Historicity of the Book of Esther,” in New Perspectives on the Old Testament (ed. J. B. Payne; Waco, TX: Word, 1970), 37–47 and W. H. Shea, “Esther and History,” Concordia Journal (1987), 234–248. For reviews of the arguments for and against the historicity of Esther’s story, see Paton, Esther, 1–120; Bardtke, Das Buch Esther, 255–265; Berg, The Book of Esther, 1–30; Fox, Character, 131–139; Larkin, Esther, 70–80.

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bate about the book’s provenance opened up in new directions. The author actually appears to be distanced in time from the events featured in the story. S/he reminds the reader of the identity of Ahasuerus, the monarch, at the beginning of the story (1:1) and even reminisces about the rule of the Persian king (1:1, 13, 14; 4:11; 8:8; 10:2) as if it were a situation well in the past.11 In addition, there are a number of inaccuracies, even improbabilities. The dismissal of the queen from the palace on the basis of the whim of the king is thought to be fictional, as are the details about the beauty treatments for the concubines (2:12), the age of Mordecai (2:5–6), the 127 provinces of the Persian Empire (1:1; 8:9), and the reference to the annihilation of 75,000 enemies of the Jews (9:16). The author writes with a note of romanticism as of an era long past and arguments for the composition of the story well after the Persian period circulated as a result.12 Additional arguments sought to show that events in the story or its characters are consistent with historical situations and personages in the Greek period. Thought to be indicative of a Hellenistic provenance is the reference to the Jews as scattered abroad and dispersed among the peoples (3:8). Similarly, references thought to refer to conversion (8:17; 9:27) are attributed to the proselytizing zeal of Graeco-Roman times and to the deliberate policies of the Hasmoneans. Furthermore, Ahasuerus’ edict of destruction (3:12–13) seems consistent with Antiochus’ determination to root out the Jewish religion in 169 b.c.e. Berg added two new points towards the end of her literary study that swing the balance to the Hellenistic period in her view.13 The first is the accusation by Haman that the laws of the Jews were different to that of other people (3:8). According to this view, the Jews as a distinct social group would have been distinguished after the creation of the Greek polis as different and potentially schismatic or dangerous because of their defiance to worship the city’s pantheon of deities. In addition, Mordecai’s refusal to bow to Haman is thought to have been related to the early period of the rule of Alexander who tried, unsuccessfully, to require that Greeks bow before him. None of the arguments raised in support of a Hellenistic provenance is convincing and a series of historical details equally suggest that Esther could be dated to the Persian period. For example, the story reflects a degree of familiarity or even knowledge of Persian manners, customs, and referencing. In the first instance, the book is presented as having been written on the basis of actual documents from the Persian Era through references to imperial chronicles (2:23; 6:1; 10:2) and edicts (1:22; 3:12; 8:9–14).14 In addition, the author seems to have among others by Paton, Esther, 61; Anderson, “The Book of Esther,” 827. Introduction to the Old Testament (New York: Harper, 1941), even posits Esther to the Common Era. 13 Berg, The Book of Esther, 169–173. 14 R. Gordis, “Religion, Wisdom and History in the Book of Esther: A New Solution to an Ancient Crux,” JBL 100 (1981), 359–388, argues that the story was written as a Persian chronicle. 11 Noted

12 R. H. Pfeiffer,

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first-hand knowledge of Susa and the affairs of the Persian monarchy, including its postal system, court life (3:13, 15; 8:9–10) and s/he even employs a number of words and a few names of indisputable Persian origin.15 Moreover, the story contains little considered consistent with a Judean provenance. For example, there are no references to Judah and Jerusalem or to theological concepts associated with much of the mainstream Old Testament literature, including covenant, King David, the ark, the temple, and the priesthood. These details when taken together tend to support belief in the composition of Esther before the destruction of the Persian Empire by an author in Susa where the events of the story take place. The historical details of the scroll can be and certainly have been interpreted in mutually exclusive ways, that is, in support of a Persian date or in favor of a Hellenistic one. Because attention to references and allusions alone does not help to advance the discussion of the dating of the story, scholars have turned towards the linguistic evidence. The second most common set of criteria advanced in discussions of the dating of the Esther scroll stems from linguistic evidence, with particular attention to the type of Hebrew employed and the appearance of Greek loan words. To some interpreters the language of the book with its Late Biblical Hebrew style suggests a Hellenistic date of composition. Its Hebrew, for example, resembles the language of Ecclesiastes, Daniel, and Chronicles.16 Its commonality with Chronicles has been emphasized by Striedl, who considers the Hebrew of Esther to be later than that of Chronicles, which he dates to around 300 b.c.e.17 Many words are not found elsewhere except in the Mishna and other rabbinical writings. In addition, Aramaic influence is conspicuous in diction and syntax.18 These details have been used to point to greater similarity with Rabbinic interpretation and therefore to after the Persian period.19 In addition, noting that the style of the literature is awkward and labored, Paton, among others, suggests that the Hebrew was more familiar to the author as a literary, rather than a spoken language. Consistent with this argument is that made by Stiehl who points to the renewal of Elamite in the 2nd century b.c.e. which is thought to undergird some of the names in the book.20 The concentrated work of Bergey on the language of 15 Examples are found in Paton, Esther, 66–71; Moore, Esther, xli; idem., “Esther,” 638. Cf. H. S. Gehman, “Notes on the Persian Words in the Book of Esther,” JBL 43 (1924), 321–328; A. R. Millard, “The Persian Names in Esther and the Reliability of the Hebrew Text,” JBL 96 (1977), 481–488. 16 Wildboer, Esther, 172. 17 H. Striedl, “Untersuchung zur Syntax und Stilistik des hebräischen Buches Esther,” ZAW 55 (1937), 73–108. 18 E. g., C. C. Torrey, “The Older Book of Esther,” HTR 37 (1944), 33–40; F. Zimmermann, Biblical Books Translated from the Aramaic (New York: Ktav, 1975), 69–91. 19 Striedl, “Untersuchung,” lists words with parallels in the Mishna as well as in the Syriac and Aramaic languages. Cf. R. Stiehl, “Das Buch Esther,” WZKM 53 (1956), 4–22; idem., “Esther, Judith und Daniel,” in Die aramäische Sprache unter den Achaimeniden (ed. F. Altheim and R. Stiehl; Frankfurt am Main: Vittorio Klosterman, 1963), 195–213. 20 Stiehl, “Das Buch Esther.”

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Esther tends to support a Hellenistic date in that he finds MT Esther to be a good representation of Late Biblical Hebrew style that has elements consistent with the Hebrew of the rabbis of the 1st to 3rd centuries C. E.21 The criteria for distinguishing a time line in the development of biblical Hebrew, however, remains debated and there are divergent opinions about the similarities of Esther with other biblical literature.22 Attention to the language of the book can, therefore, be used in support of a Persian date of composition. Certain literary features including the absence of Greek loan words, the lack of reference to Greek customs, and the lack of evidence of influence from Greek writing style coupled with a relatively large number of Persian loan words suggest the scroll’s composition took place in the Achaemenid period. In addition, the writing style is characteristic of Aramaic, which was the lingua franca of the Persian Empire. Moreover, the Hebrew shares little commonality with that of the Qumran library and has more in common with the biblical book of Chronicles, which is most often dated now to around 400 b.c.e., that is towards the end of the Persian period. Finally, the referencing of months in the book of Esther tends to support a Persian date. Because an ordinal month is found in conjunction with the Babylonian or Aramaic month name (e. g., 3:7, 13) and there is a marked preference for Babylonian month names, Talshir and Talshir observe that the author seems to be more familiar with the Babylonian-Aramaic month names. They point to the so-called Nehemiah Memoir (Neh 1:1–7:5, cf. chs. 11–13) which also evidences the double month naming and therefore situate the composition of the book of Esther late in the Second Temple period.23 None of the above points is decisive for attributing a particular period for composition and some of the observed linguistic features can be explained differently. As Paton noted over a century ago, many of the Persian loan words that appear in the book are examples of terminology consistent with the language of government and trade, so they might not be indicative of first-hand knowledge of Persian policies on the part of the author.24 On this point, Berg also notes that an author would have had access to the history of Persia and its customs composed by Berossus, which was written around 270 b.c.e., and could have used it to furnish a realistic setting for the tale.25 The large number of Persian loan words supports either a Persian or a Hellenistic date. Furthermore, the lack of 21 R. L. Bergey, “Late Linguistic Features in Esther,” JQR 75 (1984), 66–78; idem., “Post-exilic Hebrew Linguistic Developments in Esther: a diachronic approach,” JETS 31 (1988), 161–168. 22 R. Polzin, Late Biblical Hebrew: Toward an Historical Typology of Biblical Hebrew Prose (HSM 12; Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1976), 74, considers Esther to share less in common with the language of Ezra, Chronicles, and Nehemiah without the memoir sections. 23 D. Talshir and Z. Talshir, “The Double Month Naming in Late Biblical Books: A New Clue for Dating Esther,” VT 54 (2004), 549–555. Cf. A. D. Friedberg, “A New Clue in the Dating of the Composition of the Book of Esther,” VT 50 (2000), 561–565. 24 Paton, Esther, 65. 25 Berg, The Book of Esther, 170–171.

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Greek loan words has been explained as an intentional strategy by the author to archaize the story and thus make it consistent with biblical literature more generally.26 Equally, commonality with the Nehemiah Memoir could suggest either Persian or Hellenistic dating depending on the interpreter. Like the historical details, attention to language offers inconclusive evidence for the date of Esther’s composition. A third attempt to ascertain the date of the composition of the story of Esther has focused on quotations of and references to other biblical sources as well as the relationship of the Masoretic story of Esther to the Greek versions, namely the Alpha Text (formerly referred to as the Lucianic edition) and the Septuagint. In favor of Hellenistic dating is the fact that no external sources before the Christian era betray knowledge of the book of Esther. Since no pre-Christian writer seems to be aware of the story and it is also seemingly absent from the Qumran library and Ben Sirach’s “Praise of the Fathers” (chs. 44–49) ca. 190 b.c.e., the argument is made that the book must have been composed later than Persian times. Knowledge of the story in Jewish sources, such as the Septuagint (cited by Josephus in Contra Apion i.8) and 2 Maccabees, which mentions the festival of Purim as “the day of Mordecai” (2 Macc 15:36), could support a 2nd century date of composition.27 Further supporting the impression that the composition of the story belongs to Hellenistic times is the fact that the festival of Purim does not appear to have been observed by Jews in the homeland before the 1st century b.c.e. which would make a date in the 2nd century or at the latest in the early 1st century b.c.e. probable for the Hebrew.28 This raises the important question of when the story of Esther came to be known in Palestine and elsewhere. The Septuagint text of Esther concludes with a colophon that attributes the arrival of a Greek version of the story in Egypt in the fourth year of the reign of Ptolemy and Cleopatra, dated to either 114 / ​1329 or 78–77 / ​73 b.c.e.30 These details would suggest that the story of Esther became known in Palestine during the Greek period; thereby, providing support for theories that argue that the story originated after the conquests of Alexander. Of course, these details equally attest only to the transmission of Esther to Palestinian Jews in the Hellenistic period, rather than the date of the origin of the written account itself. The name of the character Mordecai is also thought to contribute towards our understanding of the date of the scroll. Supportive of a Persian date is the fact that the name appears in use earlier than the period of the Maccabees. Moreover, reference to Mardukâ, an accountant or privy councilor to Uštannu in Susa, in an undated cuneiform tablet (Amherst 258) discovered in 1904 traced to the time of The Book of Esther, 170–171. incomplete reference is found in 1 Macc 7:49. 28 Fox, Character, 139. 29 B. Jacob, “Das Buch Esther bei den LXX,” ZAW 10 (1890), 241–298, here 279–280. 30 E. J. Bickerman, “The colophon of the Greek Book of Esther,” JBL 63 (1944), 339–362. 26 Berg, 27 An

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Darius I (522–486) or Xerxes I (486–485), suggests at least the circulation of the name before the Hellenistic period,31 if not also a likely source for the character of Mordecai.32 The name Mardukâ or Mardukû has since appeared in other records with reference to other individuals acting in official capacities within the Persian Empire, so it was at least a name in use during the time period in which the book is set.33 In addition, the name Mordecai appears in biblical material dated most commonly to the Persian period among a list of the returnees who accompanied Zerubbabel to Jerusalem (Ezra 2:2; Neh 7:7). It seems to be the case that the name Mardochaeus, a Hellenized version of the biblical name Mordecai, was also common in Ptolemaic Egypt (ca. 150 b.c.e.), and this detail could support theories that there was knowledge of Esther and Mordecai before the time of the Maccabees.34 Although variants of the name Mordecai were circulating in ancient times and antiquity, they offer little proof of the protagonist of MT Esther and cannot be used, therefore, to securely fix a date for the composition of the story. The relationship of the Masoretic Text of Esther to the two Greek versions of the story has also been brought to bear on the debate.35 Examination of the Hebrew Esther in comparison to the two Greek versions would tend to suggest that a common Hebrew (or Aramaic) source served as the basis for the Masoretic version and the Alpha Text. If a source text provides the common account attested to by the MT and the AT, the date of the story of Esther, not necessarily the versions that have survived, could stem quite easily from the Persian period. 31 A. Ungnad, “Keilinschriftliche Beiträge zum Buch Esra und Ester,” ZAW 58 (1941), 240– 244, here 244; idem.,“Keilinschriftliche Beiträge zum Buch Esra und Ester,” ZAW 59 (1942/43), 219. Cf. R. Gordis, “Studies in the Esther Narrative.” JBL 95 (1976), 43–58; Moore, Esther, 1. 32 S. H. Horn, “Mordecai, a Historical Problem,” BibRes 9 (1964), 14–25; Wright, “Historicity,” 44; Gordis, Megillat Esther, 6. C. A. Moore, “Archaeology and the Book of Esther,” BA 38 (1975), 62–79; E. M. Yamauchi, “The Archaeological Background of Esther: Archaeological Backgrounds of the Exilic and Postexilic Era,” BSac 127 (1980), 99–117. D. J. A. Clines, “In Quest of the Historical Mordecai,” VT 41 (1991), 129–136, reviews the history of the discussion of Amherst 258, the cuneiform text itself, and its relevance for making positivistic historical claims. E. M. Yamauchi, “Mordecai, the Persepolis Tablets, and the Susa Excavations,” VT 42 (1992), 272–275, responds to Clines. 33 Yamauchi, “Mordecai.” 34 W. Horbury, “The Name Mordochaeus in a Ptolemaic Inscription,” VT 41 (1991), 220–226. 35 D. J. A. Clines, Esther: The Story of the Story (JSOTSup 30; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1984); Fox, Character, 254–275; M. F. Fox, The Redaction of the Books of Esther: On Reading Composite Texts (SBLMS 40; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1991); L. Day, Three Faces of a Queen: Characterization in the Book of Esther (JSOTSup 186; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1995), 226–232; Larkin, Esther, 82–88; C. V. Dorothy, The Books of Esther: Structure, Genre and Textual Integrity (JSOTSup 187; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997). Cf. C. A. Moore, “A Greek Witness to a Different Text of Esther,” ZAW 79 (1967), 351–358; K. H. Jobes, The Alpha-Text of Esther: Its Character and Relationship to the Masoretic Text (SBLDS 153; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1996); L. S. Fried, “Towards the UR-Text of Esther,” JSOT 88 (2000), 49–57; J. Middlemas, “The Greek Esthers and the Search for History: Some Preliminary Observations,” in Between Evidence and Ideology: Essays on the History of Ancient Israel (ed. B. Becking and L. L. Grabbe; OTS 59; Leiden: Brill, 2011), 145–163.

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Furthermore, if Dalley is correct in tracing the origins of the story to the NeoAssyrian period, it would follow that a legend circulated in the Mesopotamian kingdoms since at least the 7th century b.c.e. from which the MT and the AT could stem.36 The focus of the Esther tale on Jews in the Mesopotamian world then suggests that an original version of the story stems from them – possibly before the rise of the Greeks. References to the story of Esther and the relationship of the different textual traditions are as fraught with difficulty as arguments made on the basis of historical and linguistic evidence. It is certainly possible to arrive at different conclusions of a Persian or Hellenistic time frame based on the little evidence at our disposal. For example, the failure of Esther or Mordecai to be mentioned by Ben Sirach could be attributed to theological reasons rather than a lack of knowledge of the book. Although the books of Daniel and Ezra are also not mentioned, it is often suggested that the author of Ben Sirach would likely have known of Ezra, if not also the story of Daniel. According to this line of reasoning, the omission of Esther cannot contribute either way to ascertaining the biblical books known by the author of Ben Sirach. Moreover, the absence of Esther from the library of Qumran provides no conclusive evidence as the reasons for its omission could also be from theological reasons or due to the fact that Purim was not yet celebrated as a festival in Palestine before the 2nd century b.c.e.37 The last set of criteria used to establish the dating of biblical texts is based on theological information, but most scholars tend to discuss this feature as the interpretive or intellectual standpoint of the book because of the lack of theological reference points in Esther.38 On the one hand, the intellectual standpoint of the book fits the Greek period well in that the story bears no trace of the Messianic hope that characterized the early days of the Second Temple period, as we find, for example, in Haggai and Zech 1–8, and which permeated much of the literature subsequently. In addition, the apparent bitter hatred of Gentiles and the longing for their destruction found by some interpreters in the story of Esther could be seen to be a response to policies of Hellenization initiated by Antiochus IV Epiphanes. Also, Mordecai’s refusal to bow down before Haman (3:2) has been taken to suggest a reaction to contact with Greek culture and pressures. Finally, the sense of national pride expressed through the actions of 36 S. Dalley, Esther’s Revenge at Susa: From Sennacherib to Ahasuerus (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). 37 J. T. Milik, “Les modèles araméens du livre d’Esther dans la Grotte 4 de Qumrân,” RevQ 15 (1991), 321–406, argues that the MT is a translation of the Septuagint made during the Maccabean period on the basis of what appear to be Aramaic fragments of a proto-Esther from Qumran Cave 4. 38 God is not mentioned in the story and other details consistent with other Old Testament theological traditions, such as the covenant, the Law, the temple, or Davidic king, as well as expressions of religious belief and pietistic behavior consistent with Judaism and concepts such as forgiveness or mercy are absent from the book.

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the characters is thought to reflect the time when the Maccabean struggle for independence was long settled.39 At the same time, the intellectual standpoint of the book also fits the Persian period. Some interpreters feel that the story maintains a generally positive and open attitude towards foreigners. In particular, the positive attitude to the foreign king found among the Jewish characters in the story is in contrast to the tone and expressions about foreign rulers found in much of the Jewish literature which came after the Seleucid persecution and the Hasmonean rebellion (167–165 b.c.e.) and the establishment of a Jewish dynasty in Judea. Moreover, a positive attitude towards the monarch is consistent with attitudes towards Persian kings in Ezra and Nehemiah, which are biblical books most often attributed to the Achaemenid period. There are no details suggestive of the Greek universal monarchy and Haman’s description of the Jews as scattered and separated among the provinces (3:8) has been taken to point towards the Persian period.40 Once again, we find that the interpretive or theological details provide inconclusive evidence for the exact date of composition. In addition, they tend to overlap with the historical arguments cited in favor of the different periods for the book’s composition so that both the Persian and the Greek periods remain distinct possibilities for the provenance of Esther. A short survey of the types of arguments advanced in support of different dates reveals that the historical, linguistic, reference, and ideological details used to promote Persian or Hellenistic provenance are not objective pieces of evidence, but rather subject to the interpretation of the commentator. Moreover, they tend to be based on the relation of allusions in the story to historical events and persons, which leads us to consider in more detail the nature of history in Esther’s story.

II. Esther, Historicity, and Historians As we have seen, when biblical interpreters consider the date of the Esther scroll, they encounter the details of the story with historical questions in mind. Since they seek a historical conclusion – the date of the work – they ask corresponding questions, such as how do the details of the story fit with reconstructions of history in the ancient world and antiquity?, what does the language reveal about its fit into an era?, what does the relationship with other versions of the story and other documents tell us about when it was written?, and how do the ideological 39 Wildboer, Esther, speaks of national pride and compares Esther (2:20) to Daniel (1:8) and argues that MT Esther was composed around 135 b.c.e. when the Maccabean war for freedom was long past. It is not clear that “national” is the best way to describe the outlook of Esther’s community in the story, see J. D. Levenson, “The Scroll of Esther in Ecumenical Perspective,” JES 13 (1976), 440–451. 40 Meyers, “Esther,” 325. Cf. K. G. Hoglund, Achaemenid Imperial Administration in SyriaPalestine and the Missions of Ezra and Nehemiah (SBLDS 125; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1992).

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perspectives gleaned from the story fit with what is known of attitudes circulating among the community in different periods of the history of Israel in ancient times and in antiquity? The range of possibilities offered by interpretations of the literary features in MT Esther raises a concern about the reliability of historical inquiry to furnish the date of the tale. History is never presented in an entirely objective way, except perhaps in the case of accounting details, but even these can be inflated to add to the prestige of a ruler or kingdom, so that historians tend to approach source documents with a degree of caution not necessarily found among all the biblical interpreters. Because biblical interpreters base the ascription of the date of Esther on historical grounds, they should also take into account the caution historians exert when using source documents to reconstruct the events of the past and to ask such questions as, what is the nature of this source at my disposal and how objective is it as a piece of evidence? In actual fact, historians have long been skeptical of the contribution of the scroll of Esther to reconstructing Judaism in the Persian period.41 Morton Smith is a good representative of this view, Esther may show some recollection of the Persian court and government – the magnificent parties, the enormous harems, the seven great nobles who might come into the presence of the king, the cut-throat competition of imperial officials each protecting and backed by his own ethnic group, various minor details; beyond this, however, it is a romance, of the ancient genre of romantic-religious novellae that revived in the Hellenistic world.42

According to this view, the scroll of Esther contains less information that could be used constructively in creating a reconstruction of the time in which it is set, and rather functions according to the type of literature to which it belongs. Although we could argue about the exact ascription of its literary type, what is clear is that for historical purposes the story provides little of value. Although presented as historical fact, the book of Esther tends to be discounted by historians as a reliable source of information for reconstructing the events of the Persian period. How can this be explained? Although the historical verisimilitude invites the reader to interpret the events of the story within real time, it contains a whole series of historical inaccuracies and inexactitudes.43 Based on the exaggerated historicity found in Esther’s story, it would be a mistake to use the historical details found to recreate an objective 41 E. g., L. L. Grabbe, Judaism from Cyrus to Hadrian (London: SCM, 1994), 51–52. Grabbe considers its “value for Jewish history may be summarized as a story that represents Jewish aspirations in the Diaspora.” So also, Eissfeldt, The Old Testament. Cf. K. Galling, Studien zur Geschichte Israels im persischen Zeitalter (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1964), 66, 152, implies that the story of Esther is not helpful in historical reconstructions by not including it in his main text and by referring to it as the Esther-legend (Esther-legende). 42 M. Smith, “Jewish Religious Life in the Persian Period,” in Introduction: The Persian Period, Vol. 1 of The Cambridge History of Judaism (ed. W. D. Davies and L. Finkelstein; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), 219–278, here 233–234. 43 D. J. A. Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther (NCB; London: Marshall, Morgan & Scott, 1984),

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report of Jewish life in Achaemenid Persia. It follows, therefore, that it is equally impossible to equate the situations found therein to actual events in the Persian or Hellenistic periods. Two examples suffice to make it clear that the historical details are used in the fashioning of the tale to offer points of contact with known biblical situations and to provide identity markers for the community of Esther’s story. It has long been recognized that Mordecai’s genealogy (2:5) places him in a continuum with King Saul (1 Sam 9:1).44 Even though Mordecai is not presented as Saul’s descendant, the reader is invited to interpret the two figures together. A comparison of the stories suggests that the actions of Mordecai and Esther in eradicating the descendants of Agag through the character Haman (Esth 3:1, 10) and his offspring reverse the incitement of Yahweh’s displeasure at the failure of King Saul to kill Agag during the period of his kingship. Another detail about Mordecai points in the same direction. In Esth 2:5–6 the narrator places Mordecai among the exiles who was forcibly deported during Nebuchadnezzar’s first incursion in 598/97 b.c.e.45 By the time of the reign of Xerxes (486–65), who is the Persian monarch most often associated with the figure of the king in MT Esther, Mordecai would be well over 100 years old. The strong emphasis on exile and Mordecai’s participation in it, although improbable in real time, functions to explain how this Jewish community came to be in the eastern part of the Persian Empire and creates a sense of continuity with the traditions and the place of ancient Israel. At the same time, the story of Esther and Mordecai expands the locus of the promises made to Israelites in the homeland centered on the capital in Jerusalem, which is the emphasis of most of the Old Testament literature, to Jews residing in the diaspora, so a degree of discontinuity is also found. Mordecai of the exiles, along with his adopted daughter Esther, serve as a founding myth that provides a sense of identity for the Jewish ethnic minority in the eastern diaspora as well as authorization for its community through the confirmation of divine oversight, however implied in the Masoretic account. Closer attention to Mordecai’s genealogy reveals that historical accuracy has been strained in order to foster a degree of continuity and discontinuity with biblical Israel and to accommodate the story to the salvation history of the biblical account. 256–261, provides a complementary study of the historical similitude and inaccuracies in the story of Esther. 44 Levenson, Esther, 56, traces the recognition to the rabbinical commentator Ibn Ezra. What links the two figures is the name Kish, who was also the father of Saul, the use of the expression “a Benjamite” (’is Yemeni) which is also found of Saul’s father and only otherwise of Sheba (2 Sam 20:1) and Mordecai, and the name Shimei, who is specifically mentioned as a member of Saul’s clan who curses David for usurping the throne (2 Sam 16:5–8). See J. Middlemas, “The Future of the ‘Exile’,” in By the Irrigation Canals of Babylon: Approaches to the Study of Exile (ed. J. J. Ahn and J. Middlemas; LHBOTS 526; London / ​New York: T & T Clark, 2012), 72–74. 45 Middlemas, “The Future of the ‘Exile’,” 63–81, here 74–76. Contra Wright, “Historicity,” who argues that the reference of the year is Kish, Mordecai’s grandfather, rather than Mordecai.

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Persian customs and administrative details are mentioned in order to ground the story in a real-life setting, but other elements in the story suggest either a lack of knowledge of actual events that took place in the Achaemenid period, the intentional use of extraordinary details in order to alert the reader that the story is not entirely accurate and should not be read as an historical chronicle, or even that the fictionalized historical setting is a feature of the document itself. Consideration of the date of the work must account for its historical inaccuracies and implausibilities as well as its real life similitude. Furthermore, the inclusion of exaggerated and inaccurate details makes the probability of reconstructing historical events in the Persian or Hellenistic period unlikely and even raise further the question of whether the historical information found in the scroll can be gleaned to ascertain its date. Greater awareness of the function of historicity means that the dating of the scroll should be based on criteria other than those surveyed in the first part of this essay. The purpose of the inclusion of historical details is not to portray an objective account of the past or even to provide hints of an actual event that can be reconstructed on the basis of the biblical account, but rather to assign a realistic setting to the sense of threat and alienation experienced by Jews in diaspora contexts and their sense of communal solidarity and triumph. In her analysis of Jewish fictions from the Persian and Hellenistic periods, Johnson characterizes this use of history as, “a particular attitude toward the uses of the past in service of the needs of the present.”46 Essentially, then, the literature represents an example of “rewriting history to build a sense of cultural identity.” History provides a realistic background for the events recounted in the scroll, aligns it with the biblical tradition, and establishes identity markers for the diaspora community. At the same time, vague or even improbable historical details create a degree of openness that enables other Jewish readers outside the time period, immediate setting, and context of Esther’s story to relate to its events and characters.47 Historical reference points are inextricably embedded within the narrative, which is not an official record of an event in the past, but rather a tale based on historical verisimilitude. It is unlikely that one historical event undergirds the story related, which makes it even more unlikely that finding a corresponding situation can furnish the date of the book. Calling for greater attention to the historical details to adjudicate the real-life background of MT Esther represents a misunderstanding of the use of history in the story.48 Historical accuracy is sac46 S. R. Johnson, Historical Fictions and Hellenistic Jewish Identity: Third Maccabees in Its Cultural Context (HCS 43; Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004), xiii–xiv, 5–6, 33–34. Johnson explores this phenomenon within literature of the Hellenistic period, but argues at another point for Esther in the Persian period in “Novelistic Elements” (see n. 41). 47 J. L. Berquist, Judaism in Persia’s Shadow: A Social and Historical Approach (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1995), 227–229, makes this point about identification and generality as well as its applicability to other diaspora novellas and stories. 48 Shea, “Esther,” 245, writes “[…] future arguments against its historicity should be based

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rificed in order to foster and support the communal identity of a minority group that experiences estrangement from its land of origin as well as pressure from many sides within a cosmopolitan majority culture. Esther is a fictional account based on realistic, even historically accurate, details that follows the fortunes of a people linked by a sense of kinship and, thereby, furnishes a story of identity and promotes the observance of a valued festival. With this in mind, it is essential to have higher regard for the book’s genre when considering the date of its composition. Indeed, Levenson helpfully observes that “[…] the book of Esther is best seen as a historical novella set within the Persian Empire. This is not to say that the book is false, only that its truth, like the truth of any piece of literature, is relative to its genre, and the genre of Esther is not that of an historical annal (though it sometimes imitates the style of an historical annal).”49

III. Attention to Genre, Redaction, and Purpose and the Dating of MT Esther The genre of the book of Esther has been associated for quite some time with Greek romances traceable to the Hellenistic period.50 Commonality with this type of literature was most comprehensively explored in a recent contribution by Wills, who analyzes Esther along with other Jewish literature that he thinks of as representing a series of Jewish novels stemming from the Hellenistic period.51 In the first comprehensive study of its kind, Wills isolated a genre of fictional stories that stemmed from Jewish writers in the Hellenistic period and included among them the books of Esther, Daniel, Tobit, and Judith, as well as the tale of Joseph and Aseneth. He finds that there was a populist novelistic development within late Hellenistic and Hebraic literature (200–100 b.c.e.) that occurred in parallel with novelistic elements being introduced into Hebrew texts from Hellenistic influences. Further work on this type of literature by Johnson calls into question the romance ascription of MT Esther and an absolute Hellenistic date.52 First, she delineates certain literature with common features like those isolated by Wills and speaks of them as Jewish fictions rather than novels. Secondly, she points out dissimilarity between the Jewish fictions and Greek novels of the Hellenistic period. Thirdly, she argues for greater awareness of an inner-biblical style of writing and considers the book of Esther alongside a body of literature found within the Hebrew Bible with which it shares features in common. upon more historical merit than these […] more attention should be given to the historical details in the book itself and in our sources from this period, fragmentary though they be.” 49 Levenson, Esther, 25. 50 Stiehl, “Esther.” 51 Wills, Jewish Novel; L. M. Wills, “Jewish Novellas in a Greek and Roman Age: Fiction and Identity,” JSJ 42 (2011), 141–165. 52 Johnson, Historical Fictions; idem., “Novelistic Elements.”

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In particular, Johnson notes similarities between some of the novelistic elements found in Esther’s story, such as its historical introduction and conclusion, as well as the anachronistic and realistic details of Persian life and customs, which are nevertheless exaggerated, in conjunction with the book of Ezra (chs. 1–6). The Ezra material shares much in common with Esther, including the mention of a Persian monarch in an idealized account, the repetitive pattern of an enemy of the Jews speaking of their disloyalty, the persuasion of the king, the revelation of the truth, and the extension of the king’s protection over his loyal Jewish subjects.53 Consistent with these themes in Ezra and Esther are similar details noted by Johnson in Daniel and 3 Maccabees. According to her argument, it is likely that there were models for historicized fiction that developed within the biblical tradition in the Second Temple period and which continued into the Hellenistic period that paralleled a similar literary development in the Greek world. The story of Esther shares more in common with the biblical/extra-biblical literature than with the Greek romances of the Hellenistic period and should be discussed with reference to them. One of the major differences between the Greek romances and the Jewish literature has to do with the historical settings of the stories and it is worth quoting Johnson at some length: The ancient novel involves history simply and solely in order to entertain […]. More important, the ancient novels’ historical coloration is never essential to its plot: kings, queens, empires, battles, and dates could easily be shuffled or eliminated without harming the story […]. In the so-called Jewish romances, by contrast, the historical setting is very much the point […]. In the texts, history is not merely to entertain (although it certainly does that) but to instruct.54

Johnson further places this discussion in the context of one presented already by Berlin in her recent commentary on Esther, who has emphasized commonality with, but not dependence on, Greek histories of the 5–4th centuries b.c.e. Esther shares features in common with literature of the Persian period and could very well date from that time. The collections of Esther and Ezra 1–6 are connected through a common story line, as Johnson notes, in that enemies of the Jews accuse them of disloyalty to the crown, the monarch is persuaded, but ultimately the truth is revealed and the Jews are declared to be loyal subjects under the protection of the king.55 Another important feature that serves as a point of contact between the stories is the appearance of source documents. In the book of Esther, a series of royal edicts are mentioned (1:22; 3:12–13; 8:9–13) as well as letters purportedly sent to the Jews in “all the provinces” (9:20; 9:30–31), specifically about the celebration of Purim. The authority establishing Purim as a festival is reinforced through an emphasis 53 Johnson, Historical Fictions, 16–28, 33, 41–44, 51; idem., “Novelistic Elements,” 587–588. 54 Johnson, 55 Johnson,

Historical Fictions, 33–34. “Novelistic Elements,” 588.

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on its written authorization traced to Mordecai and Esther (9:20, 23, 29–32) and to the Persian king (9:25, 26, 27). The focus on Purim in the second to last chapter of the book (9:20–32) as well as the postscript highlighting the role of Mordecai as a loyal and high-ranking official of the Persian court, second only to the king (10:1–3), are widely agreed to be later additions to the book of Esther. The added material varies to some extent from the stories that surround the characters of the Persian king, his first wife Vashti, Haman, Esther, and Mordecai that are integrated in the first part of the book. For example, there are different key phrases, a source for the story is introduced (10:2) that is not referred to elsewhere, and there are a number of contradictions, including the obligation placed on all Jews to observe both festival days (9:20–28). A series of studies have explored the composition of the book of Esther and postulated the joining of two or even three stories from antiquity into a coherent whole before the addition of the authorization of Purim (9:20–32) and the historical chronicle of Mordecai’s status as the imperial Vizier (10:1–3).56 The genre of the book of Esther is related, therefore, to which part of the story is agreed to be the textual tradition, and ascertaining the boundaries of the source under examination is consistent with how historians approach source documents. So, the first step in discussing the date of MT Esther is to ascertain the limitations of the textual unit or to explore its redaction history. This point has been noted peripherally by Wills who remarked of questions about the date of the work and literary features: “It is possible that all of these types of questions can find some resolution in an approach that attributes some of these properties to a source and others to one or more redactional layers.”57 In the case of the book of Esther, the genre novella or Jewish fiction is only applicable to chapters 1 to 9:19. The concluding material reshapes the book into a festal legend concluded by an historical account so that the final date of MT Esther is possibly different than that of the main story or Diaspora Esther. Attention to the history of its composition points, on the one hand, to a story composed within and circulating among diaspora Jews and, on the other hand, to a tradition that became recognized and ratified by Jews in the homeland. On the basis of two stages in the history of the transmission or composition of the tale, it becomes clear that a comprehensive study of the book of Esther with at56 E. g., L. M. Wills, The Jew in the Court of the Foreign King (HDR 26; Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1990); idem., Jewish Novel, 104–115, 128–131; although this is generally agreed, Berg, The Book of Esther, 40–47, lays out some cogent reasons to see more commonality between 9:20–32 and 1:1–9:19. 57 Wills, The Jewish Novel, 104. On theories about the different sources for the stories within the book of Esther in addition to Wills, see H. Cazelles, “Note sur la composition du rouleau d’Esther,” in Lex tua veritas: Festschrift für Hubert Junker (ed. H. Gross and F. Mussner; Trier: Paulinus-Verlag, 1961), 17–29; Bardtke, Das Buch Esther, 248–252; E. J. Bickerman, Four Strange Books of the Bible: Jonah, Daniel, Koheleth, Esther (New York: Schocken Books, 1967), 171–240.

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tention to redaction and genre would shed helpful light on the questions of provenance and dating.58 Genre, in particular, is linked with understanding the message of the book by situating it within circumstances to which the story is intended to speak.59 The genre of the final version of MT Esther is generally agreed to be a festal legend that authorizes the celebration of the festival of Purim. With regards to Diaspora Esther, certainly a complement to Johnson’s consideration of Esther alongside Ezra 1–6 would be comparison to other diaspora literature in the biblical tradition in order to more securely fix its genre. It has long been recognized that Esther shares commonality with the story of Joseph in Genesis (chs. 37–50), the court tales of Daniel (chs. 1–6), and the book of Judith.60 Within the biblical literature, the stories of the diaspora heroes Joseph and Daniel, for instance, share in common with Esther and Mordecai the motif of a Jew in the court of a foreign king.61 In addition, they contain characteristics typical of the novel, such as unity of plot, suspense, dramatic irony, involved psychological situations, and character development, but also serve a didactic purpose – to entertain and edify.62 These short stories or novellas relate the tales of Jewish characters who thrive against the odds in realistic historical settings outside the land of ancient Israel. The contexts include Egypt and the Mesopotamian kingdoms of Babylonia and Persia. The historical settings establish a real life context to which diaspora Jews can relate. Moreover, the characters are generalized in such a way as to encourage other Jews in diaspora and the homeland to relate to the protagonists and their choices. 58 Weiland,

“Historicity,” 153–154. point is generally agreed, but articulated particularly well by Weiland, “Historicity,” 155. Cf. J. D. Levenson, “The Scroll of Esther in Ecumenical Perspective” JES 13 (1976), 440–452, here 444, notes “that the absense (sic.) of a convincing date renders vulnerable any interpretation which seeks a specific political context for the narrative.” 60 L. A. Rosenthal, “Die Josephsgeschichte, mit den Büchern Ester und Daniel verglichen,” ZAW 15 (1895), 278–284; idem., “Die Josephsgeschichte, mit den Büchern Ester und Daniel verglichen, II,” ZAW 17 (1897), 125–138; W. L. Humphreys, “A Life-Style for Diaspora: A Study of the Tales of Esther and Daniel,” JBL 92 (1973), 211–223; idem., “Novella,” in Saga, Legend, Tale, Novella, Fable: Narrative Forms in Old Testament Literature (ed. G. W. Coats; JSOT 35; Sheffield: JSOT, 1985), 85–96; A. Meinhold, “Die Gattung der Josephsgeschichte und des Estherbuches: Diasporanovelle I,” ZAW 87 (1975), 306–324; idem., “Die Gattung der Josephsgeschichte und des Estherbuches: Diasporanovelle II,” ZAW 88 (1976), 79–93; Berquist, Judaism in Persia’s Shadow, 221–232. See also, e. g., Berg, The Book of Esther, 123–165; Fox, Character, 145–148; Levenson, Esther, 15–17, 25. Cf. J. Middlemas, “Biblical Case Studies of Diaspora Jews and Constructions of (Religious) Identity,” in Religion in Diaspora: Cultures of Citizenship (ed. J. Garnett and S. Hausner; Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015), for a comparison of diaspora in the stories of Joseph, Daniel, Esther, and Mordecai. 61 Wills, The Jew in the Court, provides the most recent full-length discussion of this type of story and the biblical and extra-biblical literature. Cf. Johnson, Historical Fictions, 9–55. 62 How Esther functions as entertainment, to relieve tension for Jews as a minority under pressure and subjected to mockery, is featured in E. L. Greenstein, “A Jewish Reading of Esther,” in Judaic Perspectives on Ancient Israel (ed. J. Neusner et al.; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987), 225–243. My thanks to Professor Greenstein for a copy of his contribution. Cf. Berlin, “The Book of Esther”; idem., Esther. 59 This

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At the same time, the historical details are fluid enough to allow Jews living later than the Persian period and outside the boundaries of the Persian Empire to identify with the characters and their experiences. In addition, Esther’s story shares elements common to Wisdom literature, which has a didactic purpose.63 In the Hebrew Bible, Wisdom literature tends to reveal a deity in the background of world events and focuses on the behavior of individuals, particularly how one can employ strategies to succeed in everyday life. There is also resonance with the Exodus story (chs. 1–12), although not direct dependence,64 which suggests deliverance for the Jews in diaspora. Some of the commonality with other genres can also be explained by the existence of folkloristic elements.65 More work needs to be done on similarities and dissimilarities between Diaspora Esther and other types of literature in order to fix a genre more securely. Closely connected to establishing the genre of MT Esther is attention to its purpose, which relates to the question asked by historians of the reliability of a source document. As a story of and for diaspora, the main part of the book focuses on highlighting examples of Jews who succeed as a minority group within a dissimilar and foreign, majority culture, encouraging the maintenance of kinship and ethnic ties. As a diaspora tale, the story of Esther also eradicates the threat against Jewish lives on an individual and communal basis affected by physical removal or through the acknowledgement of sympathy for members of the community and its beliefs. These indications of the book’s purpose can be refined further through closer attention to the genre of the work, but they highlight once again how history participates in the fashioning of the tale, that is, how historical verisimilitude participates in supporting the Jewish community in diaspora and giving it a sense of solidarity and purpose. In addition, they point to how diaspora Esther serves a different purpose than the final form of MT Esther, which focuses more on authorizing and supporting the observation of the festival of Purim. The relation of the purpose of the account to its reliability as a source of historical information needs to be better accounted for in discussions of dating. Although Johnson’s consideration of the book of Esther alongside a group of “historicized novels” provides details worthy of consideration for those interested in questions of its provenance and date, she refrains from asserting a particular genre for the story, noting that Jewish fictions belong to an overarching 63 S. Talmon, “Wisdom in the Book of Esther,” VT 13 (1963), 419–455. Cf. Gordis, “Religion, Wisdom and History.” Note, however, the critique of a wisdom classification by Fox, Character, 142–143. 64 G. Gerleman, Studien zu Esther: Stoff, Struktur, Stil, Sinn (BibS(N) 48; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1966); idem., Esther (BKAT 21; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1973). 65 S. Niditch and R. Doran, “The Success Story of the Wise Courtier: A Formal Approach,” JBL 92 (1977), 179–193; S. Niditch, Underdogs and Tricksters: A Prelude to Biblical Folklore (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1987), 127–135.

Dating Esther

167

set of literature that includes many different genres such as court tale, apocalyptic narrative, and historiography. This analysis underscores that the determination of the genre of the Esther material has the potential to offer a valuable clue to the origins of the story. Concomitantly, it reveals that when approaching biblical texts as sources an essential preliminary step is to clarify the text basis for analysis by attending to the question of redaction. Ideally, prioritizing the consideration of redaction, genre, and purpose before the discussion of date and provenance offers better guidance to interpreters than the individual details of the story and potential historical referents found therein.

IV. Conclusions The survey of arguments based on historical details, language, biblical references, and interpretive standpoint raised in support of dating Esther reveal the allusive nature of the historical details and interpretations based upon them. Indeed, the consideration of historicity without attending first to questions naturally asked by historians of a source document about the text basis and its ideological purposes, has done little to advance our understanding of the provenance of Esther. The establishment of the text basis relates to the existence of layers of tradition or to its redaction history. In the case of Esther, attention to issues of redaction reveals that a main story, what I have referred to as Diaspora Esther, serves as the basis for the authorization of the festival of Purim. Once it is recognized that an inherited tradition has been updated to promote a Jewish festival, the interpreter is in a better position to make meaningful assertions about the genre and purpose of Esther. The reliability of a textual tradition for historical information is related to awareness of the boundaries of the source and how it functions. When this has been established, one is in a better position to determine the date of composition. Following this line of reasoning, some preliminary suggestions about the date of Esther can be made. On the basis of the results of redactional studies of the book of Esther a growing consensus has emerged that affixes two genres to the scroll: that of a diaspora story (1:1–9:19) and that of a festal legend (9:20–32) plus postscript in the form of an historical chronicle (10:1–3). The majority of the Esther scroll functions to bolster Jews in diaspora through a focus on kinship ties as well as to legitimate and secure the continued presence of Jews outside the land of origin. In contrast, the final form of MT Esther functions as the biblical authorization for the celebration of the festival of Purim. Rather than being an account of history, then, the historical details found in Esther’s story highlight the extension of biblical promises and oversight to diaspora Jews as well as support the authority of Purim, which was a very popular festival among diaspora Jews, and encourage its appropriation by later generations and other Jewish commu-

168

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nities.66 The Esther story without the authorization of Purim fits well alongside the historical account in Ezra 1–6 and the so-called diaspora stories, biblical and extra-biblical. Diaspora Esther is a type of diaspora novella or perhaps better diaspora Jewish fiction.67 Its commonality with diaspora stories and the historical account of Ezra could bolster arguments in favor of a Persian date, especially when one considers the latter part of the period, ca. 400. The commonality with biblical fictional histories as noted by Johnson would tend to support such a provenance, but more work needs to be done to be more conclusive. In distinction, the final form of Esther could very well stem from the Hellenistic period, ca. 2nd century b.c.e. When seen in this light, attention to the redaction history of the book of Esther and to related concerns suggest a way to honor the different and compelling, albeit inevitably inconclusive, arguments used for the dating of the scroll. MT Esther represents a story from and circulating within the Persian period updated and legitimated in Hellenistic times.

66 See 9:20–32 where the basis for the validity of Purim is based on the story’s historicity, e. g., Anderson, “The Book of Esther,” 824; Clines, Esther; Fox, Character and Ideology, 139, and Redaction, 152, among many others. 67 Johnson, “Novelistic Elements,” 575, objects to the use of the term novel because it is often thought to be connected to the Greek sentimental novel, which she shows has been based on uncritical argumentation or mere reference. See also Johnson, Historical Fictions.

List of Contributors Reinhard Achenbach, Münster University Richard J. Bautch, St. Edward’s University Joseph Blenkinsopp, University of Notre Dame David M. Carr, Union Theological Seminary in the city of New York Georg Fischer SJ, University of Innsbruck Raik Heckl, University of Leipzig Mark Lackowski, University of Notre Dame Yigal Levin, Bar-Ilan University Jill Middlemas, University of Zürich Konrad Schmid, University of Zürich Dalit Rom-Shiloni, Tel Aviv University Lena-Sofia Tiemeyer, University of Aberdeen

Index of References Hebrew Bible Genesis 1 1–11 1:22 1:27 1:28 2:3 5 9 9:1 10 11 12–36 12:2 12:5 13:6 14 14:1 14:14 14:19 15 15:2 17 17:6–7 22 24 24:3 24:7 24:17 27:28–29 28:22 30:30 31:53 32:29 35:10 37–50 46:6 47:7

88, 108 107, 122 122 132 122, 132 122, 127 103 112 122 112 103 6, 105, 107 121 111 111 105, 111 151 132 121 111 132 114 113 105, 117, 121 6, 114, 115, 117 115 115 115 121 107 121 124 121 122 107, 164 111 121

Exodus 1–12 3 4:13–16 6 6:4–7 13:13 14 14:12 20:8 21:2 23:6–7 23:10–11 23:19 24:9–11 25:30 28:42 29 29:42 29:45–46 30 30:11–16 31:12–17 31:14 34:6 34:11–16 34:15 34:15–16 34:17 34:20 34:26 35–40 39:28 40 40:9 40:16

166 127 127 114 113, 114 88 112 112 143 85 85 86 88 147 88 3, 23, 112 109 88 112 87 87 84 85 133 82 82 83 82 88 88 103, 114 23, 112 109, 110 127 127

Leviticus 1–7

90

172 4:20 5:1–4 5:6 6:3 6:7–11 6:10 6:13 6:17–20 6:20 7:20–21 7:34 9 9:22 9:22–24 11–15 11:4 11:5 11:7 11:8 11:26 11:27 11:28 11:38 11:41 11:44–45 12:8 13:11 13:13 13:15 14:19 14:44 15:2 15:15 16 16:2 16:4 16:6 16:11 18 18–26 19:2 19:5 20 20:22–26 21:1–5 21:22 22:4 22:4–7

Index of References

88 47 88 3, 112 47 23, 134 88 47 47 47 134 109, 126, 136 126 137 90 47 47 47 47 47 47 47 47 47 140 88 47 47 47 88 47 47 88 109 134 3, 23, 112 88 88 44 144 144 131 44 140 47 88 88 47

22:6–7 22:16 23 23:3 25 25:19–55 26 26:3 26:9–13 26:34–35 Numbers 1–10 1:26 4:16 5–7 5:1–4 5:2 6

6:6–13 6:11 6:22 6:22–23 6:22–27 6:23 6:24 6:24–26 6:25 6:26 6:27 7 7:1 8 9:6 9:7 9:10 11 14:11–25b 15:32–36 17–18 18:4 18:15

88 88 136 84 88 86 33, 110, 114 113, 114 113 33 89, 111 87 88 127 127 47 6, 120, 122, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 130, 131, 132, 133, 135, 136, 137, 138 47 88 126 6 120, 127, 134, 135, 136, 137 129, 134 130 6, 7, 121, 124, 125, 126, 128, 129, 130, 132, 133, 134, 137 130, 131 131 6, 133, 134, 135, 137 126, 127 127 136 47 47 47 127 146 84 89, 135 88 88

173

Index of References

19:11–22 19:13 19:20 23 24:14–24 27 28–30 28:22 29:5 29:39

47 47 47 121 103 110 88 88 88 88

Deuteronomy 1:19–40 1:34–35 2:7 4:6 4:8–15 5:15 6:13 6:21 7 7:1–2 7:1–4 7:2–4 7:3 7:6 7:18 8:2 9:7 10:12 10:17 10:20 12 12:5 14:7 14:8 14:10 14:19 14:27–29 15:1 15:1–2 15:14 15:55 16:3 16:12 16:15 17:8–13 21:5

146 146 49 145 129 144 145 143 44, 82, 125 82 82 83 82 82 144 144 144 145 131 145 6 135 47 47 47 47, 49 89 85 86 122 144 144 144 49 46 122

23:2–5 23:8–9 24:1–4 24:9 24:18 24:22 25:17 26:1 26:7–8 27 28:50 32:8–9 34 34:4 34:7 34:10 34:10–12 34:12

82 82 44 144 144 144 144 88 143 44, 125 131 108 7, 110, 127, 141, 143 141 141 143 141, 142, 143, 146 142

Joshua 6:11b 9 9:27

16 82 88

Judges 1 3:6 19–20

82 82, 83 60

1 Samuel 9:1 21:7

160 88

2 Samuel 21:1 24:1–9

151 87

1 Kings 7:48 11

88 82

2 Kings 14:6 17 17:25–41 17:41 19 19:37

46 93, 94, 95 97 92 76 94

174

Index of References

23:21 24 24:8–17 24:18–25:30 25 25:18–21 25:26 25:27–30

46 35 37 24 35 71 20 18

Isaiah 6:1 6:1–9:6 7:1 7:8 7:10 20:1 22:20–24 24:21–23 24:23 34:2–4 36:22 37 37:38 40–48 40–55 40–66 40:1–2 40:9–10 40:19–20 41:2–4 41:6–7 41:25 41:25–29 42:1–9 42:5 42:6 43:1 44 44:9–20 44:24–28 44:28 45 45:1 45:1–3 45:1–6 45:1–7 45:4 45:13

67 67 151 94 76 94 75 147 147 103 75 76 94 27, 52 14, 26, 66, 67 27 36 36 23 66, 67 23 28 27 27 24 28 42 14 23 28 27, 28 14, 77 27, 28 66, 67 76 28, 108 28 27, 28

45:16 45:18 46:1–2 46:8–11 46:11 48:14 48:14–16 48:20–21 48:22 49–55 49–66 49:14–21 52:7–10 52:7–12 52:11–12 54:1–10 55:10–11 55:12–13 56–59 56:4 56:5–7 56:6 57:21 58:1–3 58:12–14 58:13 58:13–14 60:4–9 60:4–11 60:10 60:11 61:1–9 61:6 61:7 62:8 63:7–14 63:7–64:11 63:7–64:14 63:10 63:11 63:12 63:14 63:15 63:15–19 63:16 63:17

23 24 23 27 28 28 27 27 27 27 52 36 27 27 36 36 27 28 14 14 14 14 27 14 85 85 14 83, 84 83 84 84 36 145 145 143 141, 142 7, 34, 139, 140, 141, 142, 143, 146, 147 144 144 7, 142, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147 142, 143 142 144 141, 142 142 145

175

Index of References

63:17b 63:17b–18a 63:18 63:18a 63:19a 63:19b–64:4a 64:4–5 64:4b–5a 64:4b–6 64:6a 64:7–8 64:9 64:9–10 64:10 64:11 65–66 66:23 66:24

145 7, 146, 147 142, 143, 144 145 142 141 146 7, 147 141 146x` 141, 143 142, 144 141, 142 38, 144 141 14 14 27

Jeremiah 1 1:2 1:3 1:9 2:8 3:1–5 3:18 4:1–10 4:29 5:12 5:19 6:8 6:22 7:1–15 7:20 7:34 8:8 9:9 9:10 9:11 9:11–15 10:22 10:24–25 11:1–14 12:4 12:5 12:10 12:10–11

57 56 151 45 50 44 4, 61 45 38 57 45 38 4, 61 45 38 38 50 38 3, 38 38 45 38 45 44 38 4, 61 38 38

12:14–17 14:9 15:1 16:10–13 16:14–15 17 17:19–27 17:21–22 17:24–27 18:8 18:11 18:16 19:8 20:1–6 21:3–7 21:4 21:6 22:5 22:11–17 22:18–23 22:24 22:24–30 23:1–8 23:5 23:5–6 23:30–31 24 25:5 25:9–14 25:10–11 25:11 25:18 25:34–38 26:3 26:17 26:18 27:9 27:12–15 27:15 28:13–16 29:10 29:21 29:24–28 30:10–11 30:12 30:17 31:28 32:43

3, 25 57 45 45 45 84 26, 45, 84 84 85 50 62 38 38 76 76 77 38 3, 38 75 75 62 45, 76 60 25 3, 25 60 35, 40, 57 62 75 70 38 38 26 62 3, 38 3, 38, 56, 63 45 76 45 76 70 76 76 58 58, 62 58 61 38

176 33:10 33:10–11 33:12 33:12–13 33:14–16 33:15 34:2–3 34:4–5 34:8–22 34:22 35:15 36 36:1 36:3 36:7 36:9 36:24 36:25–26 36:27 36:28–30 36:29 36:30–31 37–44 37:17 38:17–18 38:20–23 38:22 39:5–7 39:16–18 41:5 43:10–13 44:2 44:6 45:2–5 45:4 48:13 49:9 49:13–22 49:14 49:14–16 49:19 49:30 50–51 50:17 50:23 50:44 51:41 51:58

Index of References

38 3, 38 38 3, 38 3 25 76 76 45 38 62 62, 77 77 62 62 77 77 77 77 77 38, 76 76 35 76 76 76 62 76 76 93 75 38 38 76 38 135 62 63 61 62 4, 61 75 59 75 60 4, 61 60 59

51:59–64 52:30

59 20

Ezekiel 1:1–3 3:1–8 5:14 6:11–14 7 7:2–3 8:11–13 11:1–13 11:1–21 11:14–21 12:17–20 12:19–20 12:20 14:12–23 14:13 14:15 14:17 14:19 15:8 16:1–43 20:1–38 20:10–13 20:32 20:33–38 21:1–5 25:3 29:9 29:17–21 30:10–11 33:23–29 33:27–39 34:23 34:23–24 35:4 36:6–15 37:25 38:8 44:18 46:1 46:3 46:15

37 45 38 36 111 111 75 45 40 39, 45 36 36 38 45 36 36 36 36 36 44 44 84 45 45 36 37 38 75 75 39, 40 36 66 75 38 36, 39 75 36, 38 3, 112 88 88 88

Amos 1:1

67

177

Index of References

2:10 3 7:10 7:10–17 8:4–5 8:5

143 60 67 67 85 88

Obadiah 1–4 1:1 5 7 7:10–17

62 61 62 62 67, 75

Jonah 1:9 3 3:8–9

115 62 62

Micah 3:11 3:12

56 56

Nahum 1:1 3:19

57 58, 60, 62

Habakkuk 1:6 2:12 2:13

57 58 59

Zephaniah 1:1 2:15

58 59

Haggai 1–2 1:1 1:1–11 1:1–2:19 1:2–4 1:2–8 1:5 1:9–20 1:12 1:12–14 1:14

73 22, 70, 71, 73 48, 49 14 48 48 48 14 73 49 70, 73

1:15 1:21 2:1–7 2:1–9 2:2 2:2–3 2:2–23 2:3 2:4 2:10 2:10–14 2:10–19 2:12 2:13 2:14 2:15 2:15–19 2:20 2:20–23 2:22 2:23 Zechariah 1 1–6 1–8 1:1 1:1–6 1:4 1:7 1:7–15 1:7–17 1:10–15 1:16 2:10 2:14–17 3 3–4 3:1 3:1–2 3:1–4 3:1–4:14 2:10 3:1–2

22 22 48 48 73 48 73 70 48, 73 22 14, 42, 46, 48, 49, 50, 140 46, 48, 49 47, 48 47, 48, 146 47, 48, 146 48 48 22 13, 28 70 62 71 72 22, 23, 25, 43, 52, 65, 68, 69, 70, 71, 75, 76, 77, 157 22 14 42 69, 77 28 36 22 14 61 36 73, 74, 77 8, 65, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 75, 77 74 22 74 14 4 3

178 3:1–5 3:5 3:6–7 3:6–10 3:7 3:8 3:9 3:10 4 4:1 4:2 4:3 4:1–6 4:4–6 4:6–9 4:6–10 4:10 4:10–14 4:14 6:6 6:6–14 6:8 6:9–13 6:9–14 6:9–15 6:12 7:1 7:1–7 7:2–6 7:7 7:7–14 7:12 8:1–3 8:4–8 8:8–14 8:9–14 8:14–15 8:18–19 8:19 10 10:2–3 10:6–12 11:2–3 11:3 11:4–17 11:17 13:7 14

Index of References

69 74 74 69 76 3, 13, 16, 25, 75 74 75 71, 72, 73, 74 74 74 74 69, 72 74 72 69, 71, 72, 73, 74, 76, 77 72 69, 72 13, 71, 73, 74 4, 61 28 4, 61 72 14, 16 69, 73 3, 25, 69 22 14 72 42 36 42, 140 36 36 14 36 61 72 14 60 26 26 26 4, 61 26 26 26 60

Malachi 1:2–5 3 3:20

63 130 130

Psalms 20 67 67:2 67:5 73:19 74:11 79:6 80 107 107:2–3 121:4 121:7 136 144:15

124 130 130 130 60 42 45 143 13, 16 13 130 130 143 132

Proverbs 1–9

17

Job 1–2

3, 22

Ruth 1:1

151

Lamentations 2:9

42

Qohelet 1:1 8:11

66 105

Esther 1:1 1:1–9:19 1:3 1:5 1:9–10 1:13 1:14 1:20 1:22 2:5

149, 151, 152 8 151 151 22 105, 152 152 105 151, 152, 163 160

179

Index of References

2:5–6 2:9 2:12 2:14 2:16 2:19 2:20 2:23 3:1 3:2 3:7 3:8 3:9 3:10 3:12 3:12–13 3:13 3:14 3:15 4:11 6:1 6:4 7:8 8:8 8:9 8:9–10 8:9–13 8:9–14 8:17 9:16 9:20 9:20–28 9:20–32 9:22 9:23 9:25–27 9:27 9:29–32 9:30–31 10:1–3 10:2

152, 160 151 152 151 151 151 158 151, 152 160 157 154 152, 158 105 160 151, 152 152, 163 153, 154 105 153 151, 152 151, 152 151 151 152 105, 151, 152 153 163 151, 152 152 152 151, 163, 164 164 8, 151, 164, 167, 168 151 164 164 152 164 163 8, 164, 167 149, 151, 152, 164

Daniel 1–6 1:8 2:18 2:19 2:37

165 158 115 115 115

2:44 9:11

115 46

Ezra 1:2 1–6 1:8 2 2:2 3 3–6 3:1–5 3:2 3:4 3:5 3:8 4 4:1 4:1–5 4:2 4:3 4:4 4:7 4:10 5 5:2 5:11 5:12 6:9–10 6:15 7–10 7:12 7:21 7:23 8:21 8:27 9–10 9:1–2 9:6–15 9:10–12

115 8, 70, 71, 73, 163, 164, 168 3, 22, 105 69, 80 70, 156 3 14, 69, 70 48 70 46 88 70 93, 94 91 92, 94 4, 5, 91, 99 91 91 3, 22 91, 92 13 70 115 115 115 21 141 115 115 115 14 105 5, 99 34 14 34

Nehemiah 1–6 1:1–7:4 1:1–7:5 1:4–5 1:6–7 2:4

14 13 154 115 14 115

180 2:10 2:20 3 3:1 5:1–12 5:5 5:10 7 7:7 8 8:2 8:15 9 9:2 9:20 10 10:1 10:1–2 10:1–28 10:2–9 10:9 10:9–14 10:10 10:15 10:15–28 10:29–30 10:30 10:31 10:31–32 10:32 10:33 10:33–34 10:34 10:35 10:36 10:36–38 10:37 10:38–40

Index of References

81 115 71 81 85 86 86 69, 80 156 80 80 46 81 34 144 5, 79, 80, 81, 83, 90 79, 81 79 80 79 79 79 79 79 79 79, 80 80 82 86, 87 83, 85, 86 86, 87 87 86 46, 88 86 89 46, 86 89, 90

10:40 11–13 11:23 12 12:27–40 13 13:4–9 13:4–31 13:15–22 13:17 13:17–18 13:23–27 13:25

90 154 81 71 13 5, 71, 99 81 13 14, 26, 84 84 14 81 83

1 Chronicles 3:16–19 3:17–24 5:40–41 9:32 21:1–17 23:29 23:31 28:11 29:7

71 13 71 88 87 88 88 105 13, 105

2 Chronicles 2:4 8:13 23:18 25:4 30:5 30:18 31:3 34:14 35:12 35:26 36:20–21 36:23

88 88 46 46 46 46 46, 88 46 46 46 33 115

Additional Sources Sirach 44–49

155

1 Maccabees 7:49

155

2 Maccabees 15:36

155

Elephantine papyri AP 27:15 115 AP 30:2 115

181

Index of References

AP 30:15 AP 30:28 AP 31:2 AP 31:27 AP 32:4 AP 38:2 AP 38:3 AP 38:5 AP 40:1

115 115 115 115 115 115 115 115 115

Babylonian Talmud b. Ber. 20b 131 b. Roš Haš. 18a 131 Contra Apionem C. Ap. i.8 155

D 20.3 D 22.51

123 123

KAI 20:2

123

Numbers Rabbah Num Rab. 11 132 TUAT I 643

123

TUAT II 587

123

Index of Modern Authors Abma, Richtsje ​57 Achenbach, Reinhard ​4, 45, 82, 84, 85, 89, 115, 126, 127, 130 Ackroyd, Peter R. ​19, 31, 40, 43, 44, 48, 150 Aejmelaeus, Anneli ​145 Albertz, Rainer ​26, 28, 55, 109, 146 Albrecht, Felix ​102 Alonso-Schökel, Luis ​59 Altmann, Peter ​84 Anderson, Bernhard ​150, 152, 168 Anderson, Jeff S. ​120 Arndt, Timotheus ​120 Authrun, C. ​22 Balcer, Jack M. ​22 Baltzer, Klaus ​67, 105 Bardtke, Hans ​150, 151, 164 Barr, James ​24 Barstad, Hans M. ​33, 41 Bauks, Michaela ​109 Bautch, Richard J. ​7, 9, 80, 140, 141, 142, 143 Becking, Bob ​69, 70, 94 Bedford, Peter R. ​41 Ben Zvi, Ehud ​38, 39, 40, 55, 68 Berg, Sandra B. ​150, 151, 152, 154, 155, 164 Berges, Ulrich ​7, 28, 145, 147 Bergey, Ronald L. ​154 Berlejung, Angelika ​124, 125, 127, 129 Berlin, Adele ​150, 151, 165 Berner, Christoph ​109 Berquist, Jon L. ​161, 165 Beyerle, Stefan ​115 Beyerlin, Walter ​57 Bickerman, Elias J. ​155, 164 Blenkinsopp, Joseph ​2, 20, 22, 23, 24, 33, 34, 40, 67, 91, 92, 94, 110, 142, 143, 144 Blum, Erhard ​82, 106, 114, 115, 116

Boda, Mark J. ​44, 70, 71, 74 Böhler, Dieter ​12 Boyce, Mary ​23 Briant, Pierre ​21 Brodersen, Kai ​81 Browne, Laurence E. ​139 Calmeyer, Peter ​112 Carr, David M. ​2, 11, 12, 13, 15, 17, 141 Carroll, Robert P. ​32, 33, 36, 39, 40, 51, 52, 77 Cazelles, Henri ​164 Cha, Jun-Hee ​56 Charlesworth, J. H. ​125 Clines, David J. A. ​92, 93, 107, 156, 159, 168 Coats, George W. ​127 Coggins, Richard J. ​41, 91, 92 Cogan, Mordechai ​66 Cole, R. Dennis ​135 Cook, John M. ​21 Cook, Stephen L. ​42, 43 Cooper, Jerrold S. ​37 Crusemann, Frank ​103 Dalley, Stephanie ​96, 157 Dandamaev, M. A. ​21, 22 Davies, Graham I. ​113 Day, Linda ​156 de Pury, Albert ​106, 112 de Troyer, Kristin ​103 Diamond, A. R. Pete ​57 Diaz, J. Sicre ​59 Diebner, Bernd J. ​129, 134 Dobbs-Allsopp, F. W. ​37 Dohmen, Christoph ​132 Donner, Herbert ​123 Dor, Yonina ​35 Doran, Robert ​166 Dorival, Gilles ​103

Index of Modern Authors

Dorothy, Charles V. ​156 Duhm, Bernhard ​24, 25, 27, 139 Dupont-Sommer, A. ​84 Ebach, Ruth ​82 Eberhardt, Gönke ​125 Edelman, Diana V. ​22, 70, 71 Eissfeldt, Otto ​150, 159 Elliger, Karl ​109 Epha’l, Israel ​13, 95, 96 Eskhult, Mats ​105 Faust, Avraham ​34, 96 Fensham, Frank C. ​91, 94 Finkelstein, Israel ​22, 107 Fischer, Georg ​3, 45, 56, 59, 62, 63, 120 Fishbane, Michael ​44, 80 Fistill, Ulrich ​115 Fox, Michael V. ​150, 151, 155, 156, 165, 166, 168 Freedman, David N. ​19, 132 Frei, Peter ​119 Frettlöh, M. L. ​120 Fried, Lisbeth S. ​80, 91, 93, 156 Friedberg, Albert D. ​154 Frevel, Christian ​83, 110, 116 Frye, Richard N. ​21 Fulton, Deirdre ​19 Galling, Kurt ​159 Gärtner, Judith ​139, 140 Gehman, Henry S. ​153 Gerleman, Gillis ​166 Gerstenberger, E. S. ​116, 120 Gertz, Jan Christian ​101, 110, 111, 127 Gesenius, Wilhelm ​104, 122 Gillingham, Susan ​130 Goldenstein, Jonathan ​139, 140 Gordis, Robert ​150, 151, 152, 156, 166 Görg, M. ​102 Gosden, Chris ​98 Grabbe, Lester L. ​19, 21, 35, 92, 94, 95, 159 Grätz, Sebastian ​83 Grayson, Albert K. ​94, 95 Greenberg, Moshe ​111 Greenstein, E. L. ​165 Gruber, Mayer I. ​131

183

Habel, Norman ​45 Hadjiev, Tchavdar S. ​67 Hallaschka, Martin ​72, 73, 74 Hanson, Paul ​43 Hardmeier, Christof ​56 Hartenstein, F. ​130 Hartberger, Birgit ​62 Heckl, Raik ​6, 80, 119, 124, 127, 128, 135 Hendel, Ronald ​104, 107 Herrenschmidt, C. ​23 Hetzler, M. ​150 Hildebrand, David R. ​146 Hillers, Delbert R. ​37 Hoglund, Kenneth G. ​158 Holladay, William L. ​45 Holzinger, Heinrich ​132 Horbury, William ​156 Horn, Siegfried H. ​156 Hornkohl, Aaron ​101 Hossfeld, F.-L. ​130 Howard, David M. Jr. ​151 Hughes, Jeremy ​104 Humphreys, W. Lee ​165 Hurvitz, Avi ​105, 110 Jacob, Benno ​155 Janssen, Enno ​33 Japhet, Sara ​46, 71 Jobes, Karen H. ​156 Johnson, Sara R. ​151, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166, 168 Keel, Othmar ​108 Kelle, Brad E. ​68 Kent, Roland G. ​19, 23 Kessler, John ​40, 41, 44, 47, 48, 49, 62 Kim, Dong-Hyuk ​101 Klein, Ralph W. ​70, 71 Knapp, A. Bernard ​98 Knauf, Ernst A. ​112 Knierim, Rolf P. ​127 Knohl, Israel ​101, 113 Knoppers, Gary N. ​19, 34, 120 Koch, Klaus ​48 Köckert, Matthias ​109 Kottsieper, Ingo ​13 Kramer, Samuel N. ​37

184

Index of Modern Authors

Kratz, Reinhard G. ​13, 17, 27, 44, 80, 109, 110, 116 Krauter, Stefan ​102 Kreuzer, Siegfried ​102 Lalleman-de Winkel, H. 57 Lange, Armin ​83 Larkin, Katrina J. A. ​150, 151 Lemche, Niels P. ​102 Lescow, Theodor ​62 Leuenberger, Martin ​62, 108, 120, 125, 126, 129, 131 Levenson, Jon D. ​150, 158, 160, 162, 164, 165 Levin, Christoph ​17, 35 Levine, Baruch A. ​110 Levin, Yigal ​4, 99 Lipschits, Oded ​12, 16, 33, 34, 35 Lohfink, Norbert ​109, 110, 113 López, F. García ​103 Lundbom, Jack R. ​25 Lupu, Eran ​81 Manfredi, Silvana ​56 Mason, Rex A. ​42, 43, 44, 49, 51, 61 Mathys, Hans-Peter ​116 Mazar, Amihai ​65, 66 McConville, J. G. ​19, 57 McKane, William ​24, 25, 26, 77 Meinhold, Arndt ​165 Meshel, Ze’ev ​108, 124 Meyers, Carol L. ​49, 50, 150, 158 Meyers, Eric M. ​11, 12, 49, 50 Michalowski, Piotr ​37 Middlemas, Jill ​7, 8, 31, 33, 34, 39, 40, 156, 160, 165 Milgrom, Jacob ​47, 110, 129, 135 Milik, Józef ​157 Millard, Alan R. ​153 Mitchell, Christine ​9 Moore, Megan B. ​67 Moore, Carey A. ​150, 151, 153, 156 Morgenstern, Julian ​139 Mowinckel, Sigmund ​80 Nicholson, Ernest W. ​19, 26 Niditch, Susan ​166 Nihan, Christophe ​45, 110, 112, 136 Nogalski, James ​9, 55, 61, 63

Noth, Martin ​19, 31, 129, 134 Nurmela, Risto ​43, 60 O’Connor, Kathleen ​57 Oded, Bustenay ​34, 38, 95, 96, 97, 98 Oorschot, Jürgen V. ​27 Oppenheim, A. Leo ​22 Otto, Eckart ​109, 119, 129 Pascal-Gerlinger, E. ​139 Paton, Lewis B. ​149, 150, 151, 152, 153, 154 Paul, Shalom M. ​66, 67 Pearce, Laurie E. ​98 Pedersen, Johannes ​120 Perlitt, Lothan ​109 Petersen, David L. ​43, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 53 Pfeiffer, Henrik ​108 Pfiffer, Robert ​152 Pfeil, Rüdiger ​48 Pleket, Henri W. ​80 Plöger, Otto ​43, 128 Pohlmann, K.-F. ​35, 40 Pola, Thomas ​109, 111 Polaski, Donald ​140 Polzin, Robert ​154` Popper, Julius ​114 Porten, Bezalel ​123 Prokhorov, A. ​67 Pschibille, Judith ​57 Qimron, Elisha ​125 Radine, Jason ​67 Reinmuth, Titus ​81, 86, 89 Redditt, Paul L. ​46, 47, 48, 61 Rendsburg, Gary A. ​104, 115 Rendtorff, Rolf ​110 Rezetko, Robert ​101 Ringgren, Helmer ​150 Rofé, Alexander ​114, 115 Rogerson, John W. ​117 Römer, Thomas ​101, 115, 116, 117 Rom-Shiloni, Dalit ​3, 9, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 45, 46, 50, 93 Rooke, Deborah ​73, 74 Rosenthal, Ludwig A. ​165 Rothenbusch, Ralf ​115

Index of Modern Authors

Rothstein, Johann W. ​46, 48, 50 Rouillard, Hedwige ​103 Schaefer, Konrad R. ​60 Scharbert, Josef ​120 Schattner-Rieser, U. ​133 Schmid, Konrad ​5, 9, 14, 17, 101, 107, 108, 116, 117, 120, 141 Schmidt, Ludwig ​110 Schöttler, H.-G. ​72, 73, 74 Schultz-Rauch, M. ​57 Schunck, Klaus D. ​86, 87 Seebass, Horst ​84, 126, 127, 128, 130, 131, 133, 134 Seiler, Stefan ​130 Seitz, Christopher R. ​45 Sellen, E. ​46 Seybold, Klaus ​119, 126, 130 Shea, William H. ​151, 161 Siegert, Folker ​102 Ska, Jean-Louis ​110 Smelik, Klaas A. D. ​66 Smend, Rudolph ​111 Smith, Mark S. ​9 Smith, Morton ​159 Sommer, Benjamin ​44, 101, 102, 104 Sokolowski, F. ​80 Sperling, David ​112 Spiekermann, H. ​9, 122, 125, 130, 135 Stackert, Jeffrey ​101 Stead, Michael R. ​43, 44 Steck, Odil H. ​27, 43, 44, 101, 103, 106, 139, 140 Steinmann, Andrew ​136 Stiehl, Ruth ​153, 162 Stipp, Hermann-Josef ​34, 35, 36, 38 Stolz, Fritz ​108 Striedl, Hans ​153 Strine, Casey A. ​69 Strubbe, Johan H. M. ​122 Süssenbach, Claudia ​130 Sweeney, Marvin ​55 Talmon, Shemaryahu ​166 Talshir, David ​154 Talshir, Zipora ​47, 48, 154 Teeter, Andrew ​9 Thiel, Winfried ​24, 25, 26

185

Thomas, D. Winton ​31 Tiemeyer, Lena-Sofia ​8, 34, 40, 65, 74, 139 Tigchelaar, Eibert ​60 Tollington, Janet E. ​43, 44 Torrey, Charles C. ​32, 153 Troeltsch, Ernst ​107, 109 Ungnad, Arthur ​156 Valentin, Heinrich ​127 van Der Toorn, Karel ​44 Van Seters, John ​19 Veijola, Timo ​117 Vink, Jacobus G. ​112 von Rad, Gerhard ​42 Voskos, Ioannis ​98 Wagner, Thomas ​112 Wanke, Gunther ​59 Watts, John D. ​139 Wehmeier, Gerhard ​120 Weider, Andreas ​57 Weiland, Forest S. ​150, 151, 164, 165 Weimar, Peter ​62, 110 Weinfeld, Moshe ​144, 145 Weippert, Helga ​24 Weiser, Artur ​42 Wellhausen, Julius ​42, 126 Wenham, Gordon ​132 Westermann, Claus ​139 Wevers, John W. ​103 Wildeboer, D. G. ​150, 153, 158 Williamson, H. G. M. ​71, 86, 92, 94, 95, 139 Willie-Plein, Ina ​71, 72 Wills, Lawrence M. ​151, 162, 164, 165 Wilson, Robert R. ​43, 44, 51, 56 Winston, David ​23 Wiseman, Donald J. ​94 Wöhrle, Jakob ​55, 63, 72, 73, 85, 109 Wright, Jacob L. ​13, 80 Wright, J. Stafford ​151, 156, 160 Wunsch, Cornelia ​98 Yamauchi, Edwin M. ​156 Yardeni, Ada ​123 Young, Ian ​17, 101 Younger Jr., K. L. ​66

186 Zadok, Ran ​97 Zenger, Erich ​108, 109, 130

Index of Modern Authors

Zertal, Adam ​97 Ziebritzki, Henning ​9

Index of Subjects 4th century B. C. E. ​4, 7, 8, 12, 15, 63, 65, 87, 116, 139, 140, 141, 142, 143, 147, 163 5th century B. C. E. ​3, 5, 7, 8, 11, 13, 15, 26, 37, 39, 41, 52, 65, 70, 71, 72, 73, 79, 82, 84, 85, 90, 111, 116, 123, 139, 140 6th century B. C. E. ​3, 8, 19, 31, 35, 39, 40, 41, 43, 44, 45, 50, 51, 52, 53, 65, 66, 67, 69, 71, 73, 75, 77, 97, 98, 101, 105, 111, 116, 123, 124, 125, 140, 142 7th century B. C. E. ​4, 44, 55, 57, 58, 98, 106, 124, 157 8th century B. C. E. ​4, 55, 56, 67, 95, 105, 124 Aaronic Blessing ​119, 120, 121, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 135, 136 Abraham ​121, 142, 143, 144 Achaemenid ​5, 20, 22, 23, 29, 40, 80, 90, 112, 151, 154, 158, 160, 161 Adversaries ​91, 92, 93, 95 Ahasuerus ​149, 151, 152 Ahuramazda ​23 Alexander (the Great) ​1, 8, 12, 130, 149, 152, 155 Amulets ​124, 125, 126, 133, 137 Antiochus IV Epiphanes ​149, 152, 157 Aramaic ​2, 12, 16, 17, 18, 21, 80, 105, 115, 153, 154, 156, 157 Artaxerxes I ​4, 70, 71, 92, 93, 95, 99 Artaxerxes II ​8, 20, 80 Ashurbanipal ​94, 95 Assyria(n)(s) ​4, 5, 20, 37, 57, 60, 66, 76, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 105, 112, 144, 157 Babylon(ian)(s) ​2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 11, 12, 18, 19, 20, 23, 25, 26, 27, 28, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 51, 52, 53, 57, 59, 60, 62, 63, 66, 76, 77, 97, 98, 99, 105, 111, 112, 154, 165 Behistun inscription ​3, 20

Classical Biblical Hebrew ​5, 6, 104, 105, 106, 111, 113, 116 Community Rule ​125, 126, 131 Cult(ic) ​6, 15, 16, 23, 42, 43, 46, 47, 49, 74, 76, 79, 88, 98, 107, 109, 122, 126, 127, 129, 131, 136, 137, 146 Cyrus ​1, 8, 14, 23, 27, 28, 66, 67, 76, 91, 92 Cyrus Cylinder ​28 Darius I ​8, 20, 21, 22, 23, 25, 26, 27, 28, 70, 156 David(ic) ​3, 16, 25, 26, 28, 48, 65, 66, 73, 75, 105, 153, 157, 160 Denkschrift ​67 Deportees ​4, 35, 36, 93, 94, 95, 97, 98, 99 Deuteronomic ​5, 6, 7, 15, 44, 45, 49, 107, 122, 136, 137, 140, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147 Deuteronomistic ​5, 18, 19, 24, 25, 65, 82, 137, 146 Diaspora ​2, 8, 11, 16, 18, 19, 31, 53, 160, 161, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168 Elephantine papyri ​11, 15, 99, 115, 124 Empty land ​3, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 51 Esarhaddon ​4, 5, 91, 92, 94, 95, 99 Exil(e)(ic) ​2, 3, 6, 8, 11, 13, 14, 19, 20, 24, 25, 26, 27, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 45, 49, 51, 52, 92, 93, 96, 97, 99, 107, 108, 117, 139, 142, 147, 160 golah ​14, 18, 40, 49 Group identity ​36, 39, 40, 53 Hasmonean(s) ​15, 152, 158 Hellenistic period ​1, 2, 7, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 24, 70, 73, 101, 102, 103, 141, 149, 152, 155, 156, 160, 161, 162, 163, 168

188

Index of Subjects

Hexateuch ​15, 18, 140, 141, 143, 144, 147 High Priest ​14, 16, 20, 69, 71, 74, 77, 81 Holiness Code ​5, 19, 79, 81, 86, 88, 90, 113, 144 Jeroboam II ​67, 75 Jerusalem ​3, 4, 6, 8, 11, 12, 14, 15, 18, 20, 23, 26, 27, 28, 36, 37, 38, 39, 43, 45, 56, 58, 60, 61, 63, 66, 73, 75, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 101, 105, 139, 142, 147, 153, 156, 160 Josephus ​13, 20, 25, 91, 95, 155 Joshua ​8, 16, 67, 69, 71, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 140, 141 Ketef Hinom ​124, 129, 133 King Ahab ​66, 76 Kuntillet Ajrud ​108, 124, 126, 129 Late Biblical Hebrew ​6, 104, 105, 111, 115, 117, 153, 154 Levites ​5, 14, 46, 79, 88, 89, 90, 116, 122, 125 Marduk(â)(û) ​155, 156 Moses ​6, 7, 16, 45, 46, 84, 108, 121, 126, 127, 128, 134, 135, 136, 138, 141, 142, 143, 144, 147 Naqsh-i-Rustam inscription ​23 Nehemiah Memoir ​13, 15, 140, 154, 155 New Moon Festival ​87, 88 Oracle(s) ​1, 3, 23, 27, 57, 58, 59, 61, 63, 66, 68, 69, 72, 75, 76, 77 Osiris ​123, 125 Pentateuch(al) ​2, 5, 6, 7, 15, 17, 18, 43, 44, 46, 50, 51, 52, 53, 79, 80, 83, 84, 85, 88, 89, 90, 101, 102, 103, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 119, 120, 121, 122, 126, 127, 129, 135, 136, 140, 141, 142, 143, 146, 147 Postexilic ​1, 2, 20, 24, 25, 26, 31, 35, 43, 44, 51, 88, 89, 90, 104, 135, 140, 146 Preexilic ​6, 31, 72, 76, 82, 85, 88, 104, 105, 106, 108, 109, 110, 114, 115, 116

Prophecy ​1, 14, 15, 16, 32, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 50, 51, 52, 84, 111, 141 Psalms of Lament ​7, 34, 140, 141, 142, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147 Purim ​8, 155, 157, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168 Qahal ​82 Qumran ​131, 133, 154, 155, 157 Repatriate(s) ​3, 32, 34, 35, 36, 38, 39, 40, 41, 49, 51, 52 Sabbath ​5, 14, 16, 26, 83, 84, 85, 87, 88, 122, 127 Samaria ​4, 60, 81, 92, 93, 94, 95, 97, 98, 99, 139 Samari(t)an(s) ​32, 40, 48, 50, 91, 92, 93, 98, 99 Samaritan Pentateuch ​114, 133, 134 Sargon II ​92, 94, 95, 96 Schriftgelehrsamkeit ​57 Septuagint ​47, 59, 102, 103, 114, 155, 157 Shalmaneser ​93, 94, 95 Sinai ​7, 80, 107, 108, 127, 136, 137, 147 Temple ​3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 18, 21, 32, 38, 42, 47, 48, 49, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 79, 81, 83, 84, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 95, 99, 109, 116, 131, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 147, 153, 154, 157, 163 Tetragrammaton ​128, 132, 133, 137 Torah ​1, 2, 5, 6, 9, 12, 15, 16, 46, 49, 50, 51, 63, 80, 84, 87, 88, 89, 90, 104, 105, 119, 136, 138, 140, 141 Torah of Moses ​82, 103 Torah of Yhwh ​103 Trito-Isaiah ​43, 140, 141, 143 Twelve Minor Prophets ​55, 56, 60, 62, 63 Wadi Daliyeh papyri ​12, 99 Wood collection ​5, 88, 89 Xerxes I ​151, 156, 160 Yehud ​2, 4, 11, 13, 18, 31, 33, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 51, 52, 67, 70, 77

Index of Subjects

Zadokite(s) ​5, 43 Zerubbabel ​4, 8, 11, 13, 16, 22, 25, 28, 62, 67, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 91, 93, 156

Zion ​27, 36, 58, 75, 84, 108, 145, 147 Zoroastrianism ​23, 24

189