Protest or Propaganda: War in the Old Testament Book of Kings and in Contemporaneous Ancient Near Eastern Texts 9004168559, 9789004168558

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Protest or Propaganda

Studia Semitica Neerlandica Editor-in-Chief

Prof. dr. K.A.D. Smelik Editorial Board

prof. dr. p.c. beentjes – prof. dr. w.j. van bekkum dr. m.p.l.m. bernards – dr. w.c. delsman – dr. m.l. folmer prof. dr. j. hoftijzer – prof. dr. j. van steenbergen prof. dr. h.j. stroomer – prof. dr. e. talstra prof. dr. m. tanret – prof. dr. k. van der toorn

VOLUME 51

Protest or Propaganda War in the Old Testament Book of Kings and in Contemporaneous Ancient Near Eastern Texts

By

Aarnoud van der Deijl

LEIDEN • BOSTON 2008

This book is printed on acid-free paper. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Deijl, Aarnoud van der. Protest or propaganda : war in the Old Testament book of Kings and in contemporaneous ancient Near Eastern texts / by Aarnoud van der Deijl. p. cm. — (Studia semitica neerlandica) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-90-04-16855-8 (hardback : alk. paper) 1. Bible. O.T. Kings—Criticism, interpretation, etc. 2. War—Biblical teaching. 3. Military history in the Bible. 4. Bible. O.T. Kings—Extra-canonical parallels. 5. Middle Eastern literature— Relation to the Old Testament. 6. War in literature. 7. Military art and science— Middle East—History. 8. Middle East—History—To 622. I. Title. II. Series. BS1335.6.W2D45 2008 222’.506—dc22 2008021216

ISSN 0081-6914 ISBN 978 90 04 16855 8 Copyright 2008 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Hotei Publishing, IDC Publishers, Martinus Nijhoff Publishers and VSP. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. printed in the netherlands

CONTENTS Preface ......................................................................................... List of abbreviations .................................................................... Chapter One Introduction, terminology, state of the research, research questions ................................................................... 1. Introduction ....................................................................... 2. Terminology ....................................................................... 3. The State of the Research ................................................. Ancient Israel; the Ancient Near East; a comparison between the two 4. Method ............................................................................... The levels of event; story; text 5. Research questions ............................................................. Chapter Two War in the book of Kings .................................. 1. Introduction ....................................................................... The ‘framework’, the chronicles; Solomon’s prayer; war stories in which prophets take action 2. 1 Kings 12:1–24 ................................................................. 3. 1 Kings 20 .......................................................................... 4. 1 Kings 22:1–38 ................................................................. 5. 2 Kings 3 ............................................................................ 6. 2 Kings 6:8–7:20 ................................................................ 7. 2 Kings 18:13–19:37 .......................................................... 8. Summary and conclusions ................................................. The levels of event; story; text; theology/ideology Chapter Three War in a number of extrabiblical texts ........... 1. The Stela of Mesha ........................................................... 2. The Kulamuwa Inscription ................................................ 3. The Zakkur inscription ...................................................... 4. A selection from Sennacherib’s annals ............................... 5. Prophecies for Esarhaddon ................................................ 6. The report of Esarhaddon to Ashur .................................. 7. From the annals of Ashurbanipal ...................................... 8. The Verse Account on Nabonidus .....................................

vii ix

1 1 8 10 74 82 85 85

88 109 139 170 198 227 268

303 304 339 363 387 426 459 493 532

vi

contents 9. The Cyrus cylinder .......................................................... 10. The chronicle of Esarhaddon .......................................... 11. Summary and conclusions ............................................... The levels of event; story; text; theology/ideology

570 603 631

Chapter Four Summary and conclusions ................................ 1. Introduction: the theatre of war ...................................... The décor; the plot; the characters 2. The décor: the common ancient near eastern background ....................................................................... The gods; the king; the war 3. The plot: the crisis as crystallization point ....................... The gods; the king; the war 4. The actors: different characters and their ideologies ....... The great king; the vassal; the priest/prophet; the chroniqueur; the exile 5. Theological evaluation: how ‘holy’ is the war? ................

661 661

663 667 670

685

Bibliography ................................................................................

689

Index ...........................................................................................

701

PREFACE Since the publication of The Transformation of War by Martin van Creveld, we have been more aware than before that the face of war changes throughout history. When I was studying theology in the 1980s, war had the appearance of the Cold War. There was much talk of cruise missiles, SS 20’s and ‘first strike capability’. In the 1990s, we saw the first (or was it the second?) Gulf War, the Balkan Wars and the ethnic cleansing in Rwanda. And in the last decade, war took on the face of terrorist attacks, of ‘the war on terror’ and of many so-called ‘low intensity conflicts’ all over the world. In all those years that I was studying Old Testament war stories and texts from the Ancient Near East, I nevertheless had the impression that not much had changed. What exactly was the difference between “the terrifying splendour of my lord Ashur” and the “shock and awe” of George W. Bush? When historians say the Assyrian Empire’s main interest pertained the acquisition of raw materials, although the kings legitimized their warfare by referring to the restoration of ‘law and order’, does that not somehow sound familiar to us? And if we go so far as to call some of the Ancient Near Eastern texts ‘propaganda’, should we not wonder how independent ‘embedded journalists’ are nowadays? Although military techniques and theories may have changed, the human condition has not. That is why reading ancient texts is so exciting to me. A prophet, addressing Esarhaddon, says: urkīute lū kî pānīute, meaning ‘the future is just like the past’. I guess he is right. This book is based on my Ph.D. thesis, which I wrote at the Universitaire Faculteit voor Protestantse Godgeleerdheid (University for Protestant Theology) in Brussels and defended in 2005. I thank my supervisor, prof. dr. K.A.D. Smelik for his supervision and encouragement during the long years in which I tried to combine my academic aspirations with my work as a minister in the Dutch Protestant Church and with my family life. I want to thank the two congregations I served in those years, the congregations of Burgh-Haamstede and Oost-Souburg for giving me the opportunity to finish this book. And my thanks go especially to my wife Fleur Prinsen for her patience during those years.

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Prof. dr. K.R. Veenhof made many very valuable comments on the first draft of my thesis. I am very grateful for this. My cousin Hannah van der Deijl was so kind as to be willing to translate all those 250.000 words. That really is quite a job! I am very glad that after having finished the translation she was still motivated enough to start her own Ph.D. research. I am really very grateful to her. I want to thank Stichting ‘Aanpakken’ for their contribution to financing the translation. Reading propagandistic texts makes someone, me at least, very cautious in using religious language. One becomes aware how quickly religion can be used and misused. Nevertheless I somehow have the hope that this book may contribute a little bit to our self-knowledge and to our understanding of the way in which we, as human beings, deal with each other. I have a—religiously inspired—dream that maybe, someday, we can conclude that the Assyrian prophet was wrong and we can emendate his saying by only one letter into: urkīute lā kî pānīute: the future is not like the past, but much brighter. March 2008 Aarnoud van der Deijl

LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS ACEBT AfO AnBib ANET AOAT ARAB ASTI AThANT ATD BA BAL BAR BASOR BAT BBVO Bibl BiOr BJRL BK BN BOT BvhB BZ BZAW CBQ COS ETR FRLANT GTT

Amsterdamse Cahiers voor Exegese en Bijbelse Theologie Archiv für Orientforschung Analecta Biblica J.B. Pritchard (ed.), Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament Princeton 19736 Alter Orient und Altes Testament D.D. Luckenbill, Ancient Records of Assyria and Babylonia, 2 vols., Chicago 1926–1927 Annual of the Swedish Theological Institute Abhandlungen zur Theologie des Alten und Neuen Testaments das Alte Testament Deutsch Biblical Archaeologist R. Borger, Babylonisch-Assyrische Lesestücke, Rome 19792 Biblical Archaelogy Review Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research die Botschaft des Alten Testaments Berliner Beiträge zum Vorderen Orient Biblica Bibliotheca Orientalis Bulletin of the John Rylands Liberary Biblischer Kommentar Biblische Notizen de Boeken van het Oude Testament Belichting van het Bijbelboek Biblische Zeitschrift Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft Catholic Biblical Quarterly W.H. Hallo (ed.), The Context of Scripture, 3 vols. Leiden 1997–2003 Études Theologiques et Religieuses Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments Gereformeerd Theologisch Tijdschrift

x Hen HTR HSM HSS HUCA IEJ JANES JAOS JBL JCS JEA JJS JNES JNSL JRAS JSOT JSOTS KAI OIP OLP OLZ Or OTS PEQ POT RB RHR SAA SAAB SAAS SBL SHANE SJOT SSI SSN TUAT

list of abbreviations Henoch Harvard Theological Review Harvard Semitic Monographs Harvard Semitic Studies Hebrew Union College Annual Israel Exploration Journal Journal of the Ancient Near Eastern Society Journal of the American Oriental Society Journal of Biblical Literature Journal of Cuneiform Studies Journal of Egyptian Archeology Journal of Jewish Studies Journal of Near Eastern Studies Journal of Northwest Semitic Languages Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series H. Donner en W. Röllig, Kanaanäische und aramäische Inschriften, 3 vols., Wiesbaden 19733 The University of Chicago, Oriental Institute Publications Orientalia Lovaniensia Periodica Orientalistische Literaturzeitung Orientalia Oudtestamentische Studiën Palestine Exploration Quarterly de Prediking van het Oude Testament Revue biblique Revue de l’Histoire des Réligions State Archives of Assyria State Archives of Assyria Bulletin State Archives of Assyria Studies Society of Biblical Literature Studies in de History of the Ancient Near East Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament J.C.L. Gibson, Textbook of Syrian Semitic Inscriptions, 3 vols., Oxford 1971–1982 Studia Semitica Neerlandica O. Kaiser (ed.), Texte aus der Umwelt des Alten Testaments, Gütersloh, 1984–

list of abbreviations UF VT VTS WdO ZA ZAW ZDPV

xi

Ugarit-Forschungen Vetus Testamentum Supplements to Vetus Testamentum die Welt des Orients Zeitschrift für Assyriologie und vorderasiatische Archäologie Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft Zeitschrift des deutschen Palästina-Vereins

CHAPTER ONE

INTRODUCTION, TERMINOLOGY STATE OF THE RESEARCH, RESEARCH QUESTIONS 1.1. Introduction It was half a century ago that Von Rad first called attention to a previously underexposed theme in Old Testament theology: war.1 His small monograph on this subject has since been the source of a vast body of publications, so vast even that it is hard to survey. By this time, one feels obliged to justify oneself if intending to add to that body. I mean to lay out my justification in this chapter and summarize it shortly in this introduction. Von Rad regarded the holy war firstly as an institution that went back on the alliance of the twelve tribes in the time of the judges. Secondly, he saw the institution as typically Israelite. Thirdly, he believed that the ‘charismatic’ ideology of the institution lived on in the prophetic and in the late Deuteronomist circles that were critical of the institute of kingship.2 The publication of Von Rad was initially well received and for a decade it was part of the select group of topics on which scholars of the Old Testament held consensus. During the 60s and 70s, however, several studies appeared that were critical of one or more aspects of Von Rad’s theory. Those criticisms applied to (1) his historic reconstruction, (2) the supposed typical Israelite character or (3) the ideology behind the institutions or theory of the holy war. In paragraph 1.3 we will go into the questions surrounding the historic reconstruction of the institution of the holy/divine war. We shall see

1

G. von Rad, Der Heilige Krieg im alten Israel (AThANT 20), Zürich 1951. The formulation by Von Rad that comes closest to a definition, is: “So darf nun wirklich der heilige Krieg als eine eminent kultische, d.h. durch bestimmte traditionelle sakrale Riten und Vorstellungen konventionierte Begehung angesehen werden. ‘Das Kriegslager, die Wiege der Nation, war auch das älteste Heiligtum. Da war Israel, und da war Jahwe.’ ” Von Rad, Der Heilige Krieg, 14. The quotation in this passage originates from Wellhausen. 2

2

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that some have tried to trace the holy war further back than Von Rad did, namely back to the time of the exodus; others have argued for dating the institution back to a later time, this being David’s time. One can easily lose oversight while studying the various theories. A tendency exists to draw strong conclusions based on small elements of a text, especially in the historic-critical school. For instance, one exegete considers the song about Jael and Sisera ( Judg. 5) as a distinctly southern story, because Jael is the wife of a Kenite.3 In this reading, the song was allegedly not connected to the story of Deborah and the tribes Zebulon and Naftali till a later date. Another interpreter, by contrast, sees the fact that the Tabor is mentioned as an indication that we have to do with a northern story surrounding a supposed sanctuary on the Tabor.4 Interpretations vary even more widely with respect to the story in Joshua 10. One exegete thinks that Joshua is depicted as a magician, who makes the sun and moon stand till, and finds that such a thought does not fit with the Deuteronomist. Even the throwing of hail stones by YHWH “wirkt sehr viel urtümlicher”.5 Another exegete considers such a story typical for the critical circles at David’s court, who thought David put too much trust in his own strength instead of in YHWH.6 Von Rad, however, finds that this type of miracle stories with their emphasis on trust in God belong “mit sicherheit” to the “novellistisch-spiritualisierende Ausgestaltung einzelner Motive”, which 3 F. Stolz, Jahwes und Israels Kriege: Kriegstheorien und Kriegserfahrungen im Glauben des alten Israels (AThANT 60), Zürich 1972, 104. 4 G.H. Jones, “ ‘Holy War’ or ‘Yahweh War’?”, VT 25 (1975), 642–658, especially 647: “The hero song of Jael, which is the oldest section in the Song of Debora, describes events located near Kishon in the territory of Issachar. Behind Judg. iv–v, therefore, lies an old tradition about a war against Sisera, a tradition that had been preserved in the North, possibly in the locality of Tabor and in connection with the old sanctuary there.” 5 Stolz, Jahwes und Israels Kriege, 85. He who will ever write a Traditionsgeschichte of the historic-critical method will come to the conclusion that turns of phrases such as “das mutet alt an” and “das wirkt urtümlich” forms a part of the regular Formelgut of this school. That this written usage of language is not very precise requires no explanation. 6 P. Weimar, “Die Jahwekriegserzählungen in Exodus 14, Josua 10, Richter 4 und 1 Samuel 7”, Bibl 57 (1976), 38–73, especially 62–63: “Die Komposition wird im Jerusalem der frühen Königszeit entstanden sein. Den Hintergrund der Geschichte gibt das friedliche Nebeneinander kanaanäischer Stadtstaaten und Israels ab, näherhin die Politik Davids, die auf einen Ausgleich mit den Kanaanitern gestimmt war. Diesem Bemühen steht der Verfasser der Geschichte offensichtlich ablehnend gegenüber, wie das Nebeneinander von Friedenschluss und Jahwekrieg in Jos 9/10 klar und deutlich zu erkennen gibt.”

introduction, terminology state of the research

3

is typical for the “salomonisch-nachsalomonischen Humanismus.”7 A last exegete sees a connection between Joshua and Josiah and dates the stories to just before the exile.8 We will go further into this discussion in paragraph 1.3.1 and argue in favour of respecting the limitations on historic research given by the use of these texts. We must base ourselves on the premise that a text such as the Deuteronomistic History does not allow the pinpointing of older layers, as long as there are no indications in such direction outside the text itself. If one attempted to do so anyway, a reconstruction would always remain speculative and circular. One will not achieve more than finding one possible reconstruction. But the number of possible reconstructions will always be as large as our imagination, as also indicated by the examples above. Old Testament scholars and historians can be compared to detectives that cannot solve the murder without concrete pieces of information, however frustrating that may be. We may have suspicions, we may develop (complot) theories, or imagine possible reconstructions, but without clear indication, it can sometimes be most sincere to admit that the research has stranded. Herein lays the first justification of our research. Consider it a technical forensic research to find traces after all. These traces may perhaps not yield yet another reconstruction of the story, but they will provide another vision on the texts and their meaning. The next subject shall also be discussed in a more extensive manner in paragraph 1.3.2: the ideology behind the texts. As mentioned above, Von Rad saw the holy war as a cultic institution, on which occasion a charismatic personality mobilized the tribes of Israel in times of need.

7 Von Rad, Der Heilige Krieg, 49. In all fairness, he is not speaking of Josh. 10 in this paragraph, but he is referring to Ex. 14 for example, which is listed by Weimar along with Josh. 10 as two stories that show clear resemblance to each other. 8 Sa-Moon Kang, Divine War in the Old Testament and in the Ancient Near East (BZAW 177), Berlin-New York 1989, 138: “In the program of the Josianic national renovation, which is understood as the resurrection of the Davidic Empire, Joshua was highly exalted as a supreme military commander like David. Moreover, the emphasis on Joshua himself is most naturally to be understood as reflecting the Deuteronomic ideal of Josiah. Thus the idea of Joshua’s exaltation was an implicit message to the contemporaries of the Deuteronomistic redactor: they are to fear and obey Josiah as their ancestors had Joshua, indeed, as they had obeyed Moses. For the Deuteronomistic History may be described as a propaganda work of the Josianic reformation and imperial program.”

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chapter one

This custom came under pressure by the introduction of the monarchy. The king exchanged the people’s army for a professional army; the divine vocation from the mouth of the charismatic person for his own personal taxation of the situation; and divine law for the reason of state. The tradition of the holy war afterwards lived on outside the court, according to Von Rad, in the somewhat romantic ideas of the prophets from the tenth and ninth century. Weimar also believes that the theory of the holy war had as its purpose to criticize the king, but he thinks that the criticizers were to be found at David’s court. “Der Ausbau einer ‘Königsideologie’ mit all ihren Konsequenzen wird von jahwetreuen Kreisen nicht widerspruchslos hingenommen worden sein.”9 The opinion of Kang stands in contrast with the above. Weimar sees Exodus 14 as one of the stories that is critical of David (after all, Ex. 14 is the verse in which Israel is not allowed to fight, but has to trust in YHWH entirely), while Kang’s view is conveyed in the following statement: “Therefore, the battle at the Sea cannot be considered as an event of YHWH war in which YHWH intervened in the historical context. Rather, it is a theological understanding of the redemptive history which has developed in the history of tradition, especially in the light of the victory of David by YHWH over the neighbouring enemies.”10 Based on the analogy with ancient eastern cultures, he ascertains that the theory of the ‘divine war’ always sprang up within the context of empires on the rise. Since the Davidic Empire was, in his view, the only empire of a substantial size on the Israeli territory, Kang a priori considers it likely that the texts from the Old Testament also propagate the royal ideology.11 In other words, we see that there is absolutely no consensus about the ideology of the biblical texts. This is mainly true for the position of the king and of YHWH. Is the ideology of the bible stories a typical Ancient Near Eastern royal ideology or do we have to do with a prophetic body of thought? In paragraph 1.3.1 we will give an overview of the background of research on the ideology of the Ancient Near Eastern texts of war. Our position will be that it is only against the

9 10 11

Weimar, “Die Jahwekriegserzählungen”, 42. Kang, Divine War, 125. Kang, Divine War, 75.

introduction, terminology state of the research

5

background of these Ancient Near Eastern texts that can we obtain insight in what can be said about generic Ancient Near Eastern views and also, what is specifically Israelite in the biblical war stories. That straightforwardly leads us to the third and last point: a comparison of the material from the Old Testament with material originating from outside of Israel. We will dive into this material in paragraph 1.3.3. Although Von Rad did not pose it explicitly, his exclusive focus on Israel gives the impression that he is describing a specifically Israelite institution. Hence, a discussion on the basis of his book developed concerning the relationship between the war stories from the Old Testament and those from the surrounding cultures. One of the most important publications in this area has been written by Weippert.12 He demonstrated that almost all elements of the Israelite holy war mentioned by Von Rad had a parallel in the contemporary extrabiblical literature. He stated that we could speak of a “gemeinaltorientalischer, ja gemeinantiker Kriegspraxis und ideologie.”13 Others did not look at the practice of the historic wars, but rather at the mythological material from Ugarit and Babylon, among others, on the cosmic godly struggle between Baal or Marduk on the one hand and sea-gods such as Yamm or Tiamat on the other hand.14 All of this took place against the background of an increasing awareness that the Israelite culture was embedded in the common Ancient Near Eastern culture.15 Differences were also observed. Weippert posed that, despite the similarities, the command of the king of Judah and Israel was less absolute compared to his colleague in Ashur, for example, and that the God of Israel was a God for the people to a much larger extent than he was a god of State.16 Lind is one of those who strongly emphasize these differences. He posed: “The central issue of Israel’s self-understanding therefore was Yahweh’s relation to history through Torah and prophetic word, as brought into tension with Near Eastern myth, where the gods

12 M. Weippert, “ ‘Heiliger Krieg’ in Israel und Assyrien: Kritische Anmerkungen zu Gerhard von Rads Konzept des ‘Heiligen Krieges im alten Israel’ ”, ZAW 84 (1972), 460–493. 13 Weippert, “Heiliger Krieg”, 485. 14 P.D. Miller, The Divine Warrior in Early Israel (Harvard Semitic Monographs 5), Cambridge Mass. 1973. 15 See for example M. Smith, “The Common Theology of the Ancient Near East”, JBL 71 (1952), 135–147. 16 Weippert, “Heiliger Krieg”, 488.

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were related to history through the coercive structures of kingship, law and military power.”17 Lind’s vision holds some credibility at first sight. We will give two examples of a biblical and an extrabiblical text below so as to sketch the problem of the comparison between these two corpora. While looking at these examples, one can pose the question: does one have to do with a similarity or with a difference? Example 1: the exile 1 Kings 20 42 He said to the king: “This is what the LORD says: ‘You have set free a man I had determined should die (‫)חרם‬. Therefore it is your life for his life, your people for his people.’ ” 43 Sullen and angry, the king of Israel went to his palace in Samaria. The Mesha Stela, lines 14–17 And Kemosh said to me: “Go, take Nebo from Israel!” And I went in the night, and I fought against it from the break of dawn until noon, and I took it, and I killed [its] whole population, seven thousand male citizens and aliens, and female citizens and aliens, and servant girls; for I had put it to the ban (‫ )חרם‬for Ashtar Kemosh. Short elucidation: one can identify these two texts as parallels, because both pertain the ban (‫)חרם‬. One can argue with equal right that the texts differ widely, because the ban as a story element has the function of criticizing the king in the biblical text while in the Mesha Stela it has as its goal to glorify him. In the Bible it concerns the prophetic word; in the stone of Mesha it concerns the king and military power. Example 2: the handing-over formula (Übergabeformel) 2 Kings 3 13 Elisha said to the king of Israel, ‘What have I to do with you? Go to your father’s prophets or to your mother’s.’ But the king of Israel said to him, ‘No; it is the Lord who has summoned us, three kings, only to be handed over to Moab.

17 M.C. Lind, Yahweh is a Warrior: The Theology of Warfare in Ancient Israel, Scottdale 1980, 32–33.

introduction, terminology state of the research

7

Prophecy to Esarhaddon (K 4310 I 5’–30’), lines 8–9 “I am Ishtar of Arbela. Your enemies I flay and give them into your hands.” In comparing these two texts one can come to a comparable observation. Formally there is a similarity between them, namely the so-called handing-over formula (“I, name of the god, give X, enemy, into your hands”). In 2 Kings 3, however, the storyteller made a very interesting modification in narratological regard by letting the king of Israel speak this formula rather than the prophet and, moreover, by giving it a negative content (YHWH gave the king of Israel and his allies into the enemies’ hands). All of this has a very ironic and critical effect. The formal similarity can thus not conceal that the function of the formula in the two texts stand in high contrast to each other. In other words: the second subject of criticism on the theory of Von Rad also requires a method that can carry out this work anew and with more precision. The second justification of our research lies in the employment of this set of instruments, which is new for this field of research, that is, narratology.18 The narratology is a rather new theory. It is already applied to bible texts with some regularity, but this has never been done for extrabiblical stories. Although it has not been a primary goal of our research to analyze a number of extrabiblical texts from a narratological perspective, this fact does provide the study with a certain extra value and justification. Narratology offers us a ‘grammar of the story’ that enables us to dissect the ‘sentence structure of the story’: who is the subject, who is the direct object and who is the indirect object? Narratology offers an set of instruments with which we can map the different characters and their internal/mutual relationships. Questions such as “who acts?”, “who sees?” and “who tells the story?” offer a benchmark that enables us to speak about perspective (or about: focalization)19 in a nuanced manner. Again, herein lays another justification for this study: we hope to establish the ideology of the different texts with more certainty thanks to a narratological analysis of biblical and extrabiblical texts.

18

M. Bal, De theorie van vertellen en verhalen: Inleiding in de narratologie, Muiderberg 19853. 19 See paragraph 1.4.2 for an explanation of these terms.

8

chapter one 1.2. Terminology

Before we continue, it is a good idea to dwell shortly on the terminology that is employed. Von Rad used the term heiliger Krieg. He justified this term by stating that the holy war was “eine sakrale Institution im vollen Sinne des Wortes”.20 This term has three disadvantages. The first disadvantage is that the term does not appear in the Bible itself. In the Bible we find the term the wars of YHWH (‫ )מלחמת יהוה‬with some regularity.21 Well, this does not have to be a decisive argument against the use of a term. We do not encounter the concepts amphictyony, Deuteronomist and cult-centralization as such in the Old Testament either. There are no inherent objections against technical jargon, provided it is functional. A second objection concerns the fact that this term was already in use, both in the academic world and in the daily usage. To begin with the daily usage: the term summons associations with the crusades and the Islamic jihad.22 Von Rad himself already acknowledged the possibility of this misunderstanding: “Wir würden nun aber diese Kriege sehr missverstehen, wenn wir sie in jenem geläufigen Sinn als Glaubenskriege verstehen wollten, d.h. als ein bewusstes sich Verkämpfen für einen Glauben [. . .] In den heiligen Kriegen stand nicht Israel zum Schutz des Jahweglaubens auf, sondern Jahwe trat zum Schutz Israels auf den Plan.”23 Seeing that the prejudice already exists about the Old Testament that the document is allegedly warlike, it seems to me that it would be better to renounce using the term, if only for that reason. But aside from this particular meaning the term was also used in the context of the Greek amphictyony. That was appropriate, because in Greek one spoke of ἱεροι ολεμοι.24 For Von Rad, that association will have more likely been an advantage than a disadvantage, because he, like Noth, regarded the Israelite pact of the tribes as comparable to the Greek amphictyony.25 In Greece, a holy war, however, comprised

20

Von Rad, Der Heilige Krieg, 6. Ex. 17:16, Num. 21:14, 1 Sam. 17:47, 18:17, 25:28. 22 We pass over the question of whether the jihad is a ‘war of religion’, as is thought so often in the West. Instead, our concern here is the way in which the term functions in every day usage. 23 Von Rad, Der Heilige Krieg, 31–32. 24 See among others A. de Pury, “La Guerre Sainte Israélite: Réalité Historique ou Fiction Littéraire?”, ETR 56 (1981), 5–45. 25 It seems highly unlikely that there has ever existed an Israelite amfictyony. See 21

introduction, terminology state of the research

9

of a struggle of the amphictyony as a whole against its own members that had violated the holy rights of the god Apollo. Only rarely do we encounter something similar in the Old Testament ( Judg. 19). In all other cases Israel’s so-called holy wars were fought against outside enemies. The association with Greece therefore more closely resembles an argument against the use of the term than one in favour of it.26 That leads us to a third objection. A very close connection between war and cult as assumed by Von Rad cannot be proven. Admittedly, we read that the wars were regularly accompanied by cult-like customs, including querying oracles, performing of the ban, and insisting on a cultic purity of the army. But the same is true for many aspects of the daily life in the Ancient Near East and Ancient Israel. After all, everything was embedded in religion. And yet we do not speak of “the holy birth”, “the holy marriage” or “the holy sheep shearing” either. There is thus no reason to do so in the case of war.27 A few exegetes have commenced to speak of YHWH-war or war of YHWH on the basis of the first argument.28 This usage, too, runs up against objections. Firstly, it entails the utterance of the name of God.29 This could be overcome by using the old-fashioned term war of the Lord. Another objection is the suggestion of exclusivity that is staged by the term. Weippert states that he had no trouble with the term as long as one also realizes that an Ishtar-war and an Ashur-war existed in the Ancient Near East.30 Yet other scholars continue to use both terms, for example to indicate separate aspects. Jones devoted an article to the issue, in which he poses that one could use both terms to indicate the difference between the

C.H.J. de Geus, The Tribes of Israel (SNN 18), Assen 1976, en H.E. Chambers, “Ancient Amphictyonies, Sic et Non”, in: W.W. Hallo, J.C. Moyer, L.G. Perdue, Scripture in Context II: More Essays on the Comparative Method, Winona Lake 1983, 39–59. 26 See especially R. Smend, Jahwekrieg und Stämmebund: Erwägungen zur ältesten Geschichte Israels (FRLANT 84), Göttingen 1963, 20–32. 27 The example stems from Fohrer, cited with permission in Jones, “Holy War”, 651: “War can no more be designated ‘holy’ and a sacred institution than birth, weaning, marriage, death and sheep-shearing.” 28 For example Smend, Jahwekrieg und Stämmebund, en Stolz, Jahwes und Israels Kriege. 29 We cannot say with certainty how the Name was pronounced. Moreover, it is a good custom to not pronounce the name of God out of reverence, following the Jewish tradition. 30 Weippert, Heiliger Krieg, 485.

10

chapter one

Ancient Near Eastern war in a general sense (holy war as a ‘container’ concept for Ishtar-war, Kemosh-war en YHWH-war) and the Israelite YHWH-war in a particular sense. He himself, though, proposes to use YHWH-war to refer to the divine experience that the people of Israel could have in a concrete historic war (afterwards, a victory was read in a religious perspective as liberation by divine providence). Besides that, he wants to reserve the concept holy war to indicate the theory associated with it, specifically in the Deuteronomist milieu.31 Indeed, the theory of the book Deuteronomy (especially chapter 20) can be seen as a theory of the holy war in almost all the meanings of that word: a practice surrounded with cultic customs, aimed at purity of the own faith. In our opinion, however, all these terms add little to the discussion. Especially the term holy war summons more questions and misunderstandings than that it elucidates. If we have already established that each war in the Ancient Near East was embedded in the religious way of life of that time, an extra adjective such as ‘holy’ or an apposition such as ‘of YHWH’ means nothing. A term only means something if it enables one to determine the boundary between one phenomenon and another, if it marks a difference. We therefore propose to simply speak of the war in Israel and in the Ancient Near East. For the praxis the word ‘warfare’ is at our disposal and for the theory the word ‘(war) ideology’. For that matter, the terms holy war and YHWH-war will actually be mentioned later on, but in those cases they will be used in order to stay in keeping with the manner of speaking of cited authors. 1.3. The State of the Research In this paragraph we will review the diverse theories that have been conceived over the years. Our goal is to give a representative rather than an exhaustive account. Most monographs will be treated, because they generally involve a theory that is more or less complete. The articles will not be treated, unless the significance of the article indicates other31 Jones, “Holy War”, 658: “It seems possible to reserve the term ‘Yahweh War’ to describe the actual experience of Yahweh’s participation and activity, including of course the customs that became associated in Israel with such wars. Later these experiences were formulated into a scheme with a recognised set of concepts and terminology; for that formulation the term ‘Holy War’ may be used.”

introduction, terminology state of the research

11

wise. We will discuss the different authors in chronological order, lest the development of the discussion become clear. 1.3.1. War in Ancient Israel Gerhard von Rad, Der Heilige Krieg im alten Israel (1951) “The mother of all war books” to Old Testament scholars is unmistakably the work by Von Rad that appeared in 1951. In that book, he sought the origin of the holy war in the time of the judges. His starting point was the theories of Alt32 and Noth,33 who proposed that the entry of the tribes of Canaan must have been, in reality, a gradual and for the most part a peaceful process of nomadic groups becoming sedentary. The Canaanite population, living in cities and in the country side, will have initially lived in a relatively peaceful way alongside nomadic and half-nomadic groups, the Israelites belonging to the first category. As these groups increasingly wanted to settle down, conflicts arose. Noth believed that it was during this process that the Israelite groups sought company of one another. After all, they were related in language, culture and religion. This cooperation was poured into the mould of an alliance of the tribes, called amfictyony by Noth after the Greek parallel. On the basis of this theory it seems logical to seek the origin of the holy war in this period, given that an amfictyony is best described as an alliance of tribes that feel solidarity with each other on the basis of religious and cultural affinities and come to each others aid. Von Rad cites Wellhausen with approval, who called the army camp “the cradle of the nation”.34 Not only was the holy war “the cradle of the nation”, it was moreover the “the oldest sanctuary” In Von Rad’s eyes, it was a sacred institution. It was, after all, a charismatic individual called on by YHWH, who called the people’s army together. And not only that: the war was surrounded by a rang of cultic customs. The analysis that Von Rad made of these customs remains valuable, irrespective of whether we subscribe the theory or not. He winds up at the following image:

32 A. Alt, “Erwägungen über die Landnahme der Israeliten in Palästina”, Palästinajahrbuch des Deutschen evangelischen Institut für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes zu Jerusalem 35 (1939), 8–63. 33 M. Noth, Das System der zwölf Stämme Israels, Stuttgart 1930. 34 See footnote 2.

12

chapter one

– mobilization by means of blowing the shofar or the sending around of pieces of meat35 – the mobilized people come to be called the people of YHWH (‫)עם יהוה‬ – the army is subjected to laws of purity – the people or the leaders take oaths – the army consults the divine will. This is reported by the prophet. – YHWH moves ahead of the army – just before the battle, the people arm themselves for YHWH – the battle itself is opened with a shout of war (‫)תרועה‬ – after the battle, loot and prisoners are dedicated to YHWH (ban) – the army is demobilized with the cry “to your tents, Israel!” The ideology behind these wars was said to be that it was YHWH who waged war for his people. The role of the army was at most to “come to YHWH’s aid” ( Judg. 5:23). It was exactly this charismatic, disorderly character that had to come into collision with the organization of the court and the professional army. Herein lays the source of the conflicts between the king and the prophet, of which we are so often the witnesses in the stories from the Deuteronomistic History. Saul, who resembles a last judge more than he does a first king, by this time has a life guard of ‘only’ 3000 men (1 Sam. 13:2). David, on the other, already leans almost entirely on his professional army led by Joab. David’s servants (‫ )עבדי דוד‬stand next to the professional army ( ‫)כל ישׂראל‬. The story of the population census 35 1 Sam. 11:6–7. This is a good example of the manner of reasoning within the historic-critical school. Von Rad, Der Heilige Krieg, observes on this issue on page 6: “Besonders altertümlich war die Aussendung zerstückten Fleisches durch die Boten.” He does not give an argument for this, but we can suppose that this happens on the basis of the subjective feeling that such a deed is far behind us, psychologically as well as historically. As an aside, recent history unfortunately falisifies this thought. The sending of pieces of meat is, nevertheless, nothing else than an intertextual reference to Judg. 19:29. Or should we assume that the sending around of a murdered woman is also “besonders altertümlich”? These stories refer to each other. In Judg. 19–21 the outrage of the Benjaminites in Gibea is mentioned. During the punitive expedition against them, it is only the city Jabesh that breaks through the solidarity by not giving acte de présence. In 1 Sam. 11 it is the Benjamite Saul from Gibea of all people who wages his first war in favour of the besieged Jabesh. Now, all tribes do turn up. Apparently, these are stories that want to clarify something of a solidarity-despite-everything between the tribes of Israel. The bull that has been cut in pieces is a symbol of this solidarity as a positive pendant of a gruesome scene in Judg. 19, where law was nowhere to be found. The element, in other words, seems much to literary to be “besonders altertümlich”. Compare J.P. Fokkelman, Narrative Art and Poetry in the Books of Samuel: Volume IV: Vow and Desire (SSN 31), Assen 1993, 454–480.

introduction, terminology state of the research

13

in 2 Samuel 24 makes clear the extent to which the ideal of an army called upon by YHWH stands in contrast to the cool calculation of a professional army. The goal of a population census will not have been any other than a registration of the number of able-bodied men. In that function it was, according to Von Rad, a “rationalisierender und mechanisierender Eingriff in den Organismus des heiligen Krieges als einer ‘wunderhaften Improvisation’ ”.36 And the organization enlarged: Solomon even needed special fortified cities for all his horses and wagons such as Hazor and Megiddo. In this way Israel was becoming a people like all peoples. The prophets witnessed this with loathing and set themselves up as keepers of the tradition of the holy war. This is not to say that the old traditions were still fully understood. In 1 Samuel 15 for example the misunderstanding seems to have arisen that the holy war revolved entirely around the performance of the ban. The scripture prophets from the eighth and seventh century very deliberately breathe new life into the tradition of the holy war. That happened at the time of the rise of the Neo-Assyrian Empire, a period of an unheard of arms race. Compare Isaiah 2:7: “Judah is full of horses; there is no end to their chariots.” In this period Isaiah reinterprets the theory of the holy theory very radically. While the Israelites still rushed to YWHW’s aid in the time of the judges, now Gods activity excludes human involvement: “Woe to those who go down to Egypt for help and rely on horses, who trust in chariots because they are many and in horsemen because they are very strong, but do not look to the Holy One of Israel or consult the LORD!” (Is. 31:1)37

36

Von Rad, Der Heilige Krieg, 37. I find it hard to see how a prophet can resurrect a forgotten and until that time misunderstood, five-century old tradition. In the Neo-Assyrian texts the following turn of phrase is oftentimes used as a justification of a war: “X (name of a vassal), who trusted on his own strength and did not fear the power of the god Ashur.” It is much more likely that Isaiah reinterprets the topoi of the Neo-Assyrian propaganda than a five-century old tradition. See B. Oded, War, Peace and Empire: Justification for War in Assyrian Royal Inscriptions, Wiesbaden 1992. In this study Oded investigates the separate justifications that Assyrian kings gave for their wars. As one of those justifications he mentions on p. 135: “Setting outrageous and sacrilegious deeds aright includes spreading fear of the gods amidst those who ‘do not fear the gods’ and ‘rely on their own force’ and ‘do not know the god Ashur.’ ” Stolz, Jahwes und Israels Kriege, 190, also points to this: “So heisst es in einer assyrischen Inschrift Assurbanipals im Zusammenhang der Erwähnung des ägyptischen Pharaos Taharqa: ‘Dieser Taharqa vergass die Macht Assurs, Ištars und der grossen Götter, meiner Herren, und vertraute auf seine eigene Streitmacht.” Another justification that we find back with Isaiah according to Oded, is the thought 37

14

chapter one

The last phase of the history of the holy war is represented by the book Deuteronomy. Here, one gets the impression that the old theory is brought into practice again. How is that possible? How is it moreover possible that Judah becomes a power of any consequence, relatively short after the besiegement by Sennacherib that left the people indebted and poverty-stricken again? Von Rad’s gives the following answers: after the destruction of Judah’s professional army by Sennacherib, the kings of Judah must have had to resort to the people’s army again. This army was recruited from the conservative farmer population, the so-called ‫עם הארץ‬. From this milieu sprang the Deuteronomist thought: warlike and irreconcilable vis-à-vis the other sections of the population present in the Judah of those days. Von Rad’s theory is one of a great beauty. It is its elegance that has baffled and blinded the Old Testament scholars during one decade. The power of the piece lies in the robustly coherent framework within which all kinds of phenomena are described recognizable to those who study the Old Testament. The whole history of Israel at the time of the Old Testament is described as two streams, one official-royal and one oppositional-charismatic, which separate in the time of the judges, only to come back together during the time of Josiah in the hands of the Deuteronomist redactor. Yet the question remains whether the image is correct. We will now hear a number of critics. R. Smend, Jahwekrieg und Stämmebund (1963) In 1963, Smend presented a book of approximately the same size, style and clarity as Von Rad’s: Jahwekrieg und Stämmebund: Erwägungen zur ältesten Geschichte Israels. In this study he investigated the relationship that was postulated by Von Rad between the holy war and the amfictyony. In the introduction he indicates a restriction to his theory that is as honest as it is eye-opening: “Über die Beweisbarkeit des Vorzutragenden habe ich keine Illusionen. Die Grössen, mit denen zu arbeiten ist, sind

that the king of Assyria is an instrument in the hand of the gods (compare to Jes. 10:5). P. Machinist also made it likely in his article “Assyria and its Image in the First Isaiah”, JAOS 103 (1983), 719–737 that Isaiah must have known of the Assyrian propaganda and alludes to those in his prophecies. Also see paragraph 1.3.2. for a more extensive discussion of this topic.

introduction, terminology state of the research

15

überwiegend hypothetischer Natur. Man kann auf diesem Gebiet viel vermuten, aber wenig beweisen.”38 Smend in the first place establishes that the term wars of YHWH indeed occurs regularly, but then goes on to state that this does not hold for alliance of tribes or a similar concept. Now, one could still explain this discrepancy by pointing out that a political institution belongs more closely in the static-daily part of our reality and a war more closely to the dynamic-event part, and that history’s focus is generally on the latter. Nevertheless, it remains strange that nowhere in the book Judges do we see the collective of twelve tribes engage in war, the coalition of participating tribes is different every time. Even the names of the tribes tend to change over time (Machir for Manasse and Gilead for Gad, for example in Judges 5:14 and 17). Deborah’s song as the supposed oldest text in the Old Testament forms Smend’s point of departure. While it is true that this song mentions ten tribes,—the absence of the two southern tribes Judah and Simeon could still be accounted for—it seems that this near-comprehensiveness is better explained by the size of the army of the enemy than by the existence of an amfictyony. After all, the tribes that do not give acte de présence are reprimanded, but no punitive expedition follows as would be expected from an amfictyony. The most that we can find in Deborah’s song in Smend’s view is an “amphiktyonischer Wille”.39 The Deuteronomistic History suggests that Israel was a unity that fell apart in twelve pieces at the time of the judges, and was afterwards reassembled by David. This image is not historically correct. The chain of events is better described by the statement that as the military power of the enemy increased, so did the need for the different tribes to cooperate. We can see that with Deborah, but even more so with the Philistines in Saul’s time. It is this powerful common enemy that imbued Israel with the sense: ‘join or die’. “Israel ist politisch eine Einheit durch den Philisterkrieg (oder schon den Ammoniterfeldzug) geworden” and: “So mag man schlagwortartig das bisher Gesagte formulieren: Der Krieg Jahwes kommt zwar nicht vom Nationalen her, er führt aber auf das Nationale hin.”40

38 39 40

Smend, Jahwekrieg und Stämmebund, 9. Smend, Jahwekrieg und Stämmebund, 31. Smend, Jahwekrieg und Stämmebund, 23 en 30.

16

chapter one

Smend, in contrast with Von Rad, does believe that an amfictyony existed or that an attempt was made to forge the twelve tribes into an amfictyony, as the story in Joshua 24 suggests. The so-called ‘small judges’ ( Judg. 10:1–5 en 12:7–15) were the political leaders in this process. Nowhere, however, do these small judges hold a military function, while the great judges almost never held a political function. Jephthah may be the only real exception to this rule, but in this story, the order of events is striking: Jephthah is asked by his tribe Gilead (not by the amfictyony) to release his tribe, seeing that he already leads some sort of a band of “adventurers” ( Judg. 11:3). Only after he has consented, is he seized by YHWH’s Spirit (11:28), releases his people and subsequently becomes (a small, i.e. a political) ‘judge’ (12:7). Although the military and political functions are combined in one person, they seem separated from each other in this story, too. In short, the small judges belonged to the amfictyony and the great ones belonged to the war. This is not the only difference, however. De amfictyony most likely had Shechem as its central sanctuary, while the ark that often played a role in the war had Silo as its safe haven. In this manner, Smend disconnects the war further and further away from the amfictyony. Eventually, both institutions even had a different home base among the tribes. Smend finds it striking that almost all wars in the book Judges are to do with the tribes Benjamin, Ephraim en Manasseh (Ephraim and Manasseh were sons of Joseph). In other words: the tribes that supposedly stemmed from Rachel’s two sons. These are the three tribes that are mentioned first in Deborah’s song. Silo moreover lay in Ephraim. Saul was from Benjamin and Jeroboam from Ephraim, about which furthermore can observed that Jeroboam I is appointed king by the prophet Gad from Silo. Is Joseph not called “prince (nazir) among his brothers” in Genesis 49:26? Since Noth had already presupposed that Joseph and Benjamin had entered Canaan later than the other tribes, Smend suspects that these tribes entered Canaan with the ark and the tradition of the YHWH-war (perhaps with the belief in YHWH itself ), and subsequently joined the “Leah-tribes” that already lived in the area. The latter tribes had formed some sort of an amfictyony base around the sanctuary in Shechem under the political leadership of the small judges. The Joshua 24 story could contain an echo of this moment of fusion of two different groups with different traditions, during which the Leah-tribes turned to a faith in YHWY, a deity unknown to them before at their sanctuary in Shechem. Smend points out that Joshua is the first personage in the bible with a theoforic proper name!

introduction, terminology state of the research

17

In this manner, Smend traced the YHWH-war back to three tribes that had imported the belief in YHWH and in his liberating military deeds from the desert. Accordingly, in Smend’s view, the tradition is older than Von Rad had presumed and goes back to the events at the Red Sea (Ex. 14). The association with an entity ‘Israel’ was younger. Israel was only described as a politico-military unity from 1 Samuel 11 onwards, after the history of Saul who summoned all of the twelve tribes to fight against the Ammonites. If possible, this reconstruction is more impressive than the one by Von Rad. But the question also posed by Smend himself is whether the material allows for such an exact analysis of this early period in Israel’s history. F. Stolz, Jahwes und Israels Kriege (1972) In 1972, a new treatise appeared about the war in ancient Israel in the same series (AThANT) as Von Rad’s earlier publication; this time by Stolz: Jahwes und Israels Kriege: Kriegstheorien und Kriegserfahrungen im Glauben des alten Israels. He mentions the occasion of his research: “das Bild einer einheitlichen Tradition des Jahwekrieges, wie G. v. Rad und, in ganz anderer Weise, R. Smend es entworfen hatten, erwies sich für mein Dafürhalten als immer brüchiger.”41 On the whole, however, Stolz leaves the image sketched by Smend and Von Rad intact, albeit with a few interesting adaptations. Just like Smend, Stolz believes that the experience at the Red Sea was the first experience that featured YHWH as a warrior god. “Das Unglück der Feinde wird als Krieg und Sieg Jahwes interpretiert.”42 Stolz also goes along with the theory that these traditions have primarily been preserved within “the house of Joseph”, that is the Rachel tribes. On the other hand, in contrast with Smend, he considers that the historic development in the time of the judges knew multiple paths. The various tribes had different experiences that they related to YHWH. There is no cause and effect between these experiences except the common belief in YHWH. The war with Amalek will have been an event that the Southern tribes lived through, the war of Deborah and Barak was an event of the Northern tribes. “Für den Jahwekrieg konstitutiv ist demnach nicht irgend eine (wie auch geartete) kultische Praxis, sondern eine geschichtliche Erfahrung.”43

41 42 43

Stolz, Jahwes und Israels Kriege, 7. Stolz, Jahwes und Israels Kriege, 196. Stolz, Jahwes und Israels Kriege, 198.

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chapter one

Both for the ark and for the office of judge, Stolz draws parallels from the later Arabic and even from modern Bedouin culture. In these cultures, it is often a charismatic (kahin) that calls for a war. Often, he is also the leader of the tribe during the war. After the fight, authority is passed back to the political leader, although every once in a while the authority of the kahin becomes so great that he retains it. Sometimes, certain cultic chests are brought along, but only during those wars in which the continuation of the existence of the tribe is actually threatened. This would also explain why the ark was not always carried along in the Bible. Such chests often contain stones (betyl) that symbolize the god; in this manner, the god is involved in the battle as concretely as possible. In this reading, David reinterpreted the ark in the light of the Jebusitic cult, in which El was depicted as “sitting on the thrown of the cherubim”. And later still, the Deuteronomist redactor has hard time with the somewhat magical body of thought concerning the ark and transformed the stone betyls into two stones with the law of Moses. King Saul stands at a crossroads of two traditions. This fork in the road, on which Von Rad also based himself, returns in a somewhat altered form with Stolz. On the one hand, we have the official line of thought, which is continued by king David. On the other hand, there is the prophetic line of thought of ‫נביאים‬. Saul, after all, was said to be among the prophets (1 Sam. 10:11). The development of the royal line went as follows. David forged a coalition with the Canaanite culture of the city Jebus and formed the cult of Jerusalem by joining Israelite with Canaanite elements. Psalm 24 and 47 are based on this process: YHWH takes over functions and epithets from El. From here on, YHWH will be named ‘king’ (‫)מלך‬, ‘King of glory’ (‫)מלך־כבוד‬, ‘LORD of hosts (‫)יהוה־צבאות‬, ‘mighty in battle’ (‫)גבור־מלחמה‬. Psalm 47 speaks of YHWH ‘the great king over all the earth’ (‫)מלך גדול על־כל־הארץ‬, who rises ‘with a shout’ (‫)תרעוה‬ and the ‘sound of a trumpet’ (‫)בקל־שׁופר‬. We find ourselves in the sphere of the Ancient Near Eastern ideology of kingship, in which the earthly king is the governor of God, the vicarius dei. It is not the king who fights, but it is the god that fights through or even for him. “Nach gemeinaltorientalischer Staatsideologie fallen die Entscheidungen über das politisch-historische Geschick des kosmologisch verstandenen Staatswesens prinzipiell im offiziellen Ritual. Der kosmologische Mythus stellt die Machtverhältnisse fest: Der Götterkönig bändigt die Chaosmächte, welche sich auf der Ebene der Erfahrung in Natur, in Politik und Gesellschaftsordnung konkretisieren können. Die Tätigkeit

introduction, terminology state of the research

19

dieses Chaoskämpfergottes realisiert sich in der Herrschaft des irdischen Königs. Nun ist von diesen Gegebenheiten her deutlich, dass es eigentlich Gott allein ist, der den feindlichen Mächten gegenüber den Sieg erstreitet. Mit genau demselben Recht freilich kann behauptet werden: Der König allein ist es, der den Sieg gegen die Fremdvölker erzwingt.”44 The other line by which the tradition is passed on is the prophetic one. In these circles, ancient stories are told. In such a story, the meaning of the ban may for instance not be exactly clear anymore, but the story would incorporate highly critical attitudes with respect to Canaanizing tendencies. Stories from the time of the judges are formed into stories in which a saviour rises, moved by the spirit of YHWH: the great judges. “Es ist wahrscheinlich, dass in diesen profetischen Kreisen des Nordreiches der Jahwekrieg ein wesentliches theologisches Problem war. Die heräm-Forderung gehörte zu dieser Kriegstheorie, wie die in I Sam. 15; I Reg 20 niedergeschlagene Lehrthematik erweist. Hier kamen die Aufforderung zur Flucht und zum Kampf auf (I Sam. 15,6). Hier verlangte man rücksichtslosen Vollzug des Jahwekrieges, der keine realpolitischen Bedenken kannte. Ohne Zweifel ging dies Hand in Hand mit der Opposition gegen den immer mehr erstarkenden Kanaanismus. Dabei scheinen aber auch diese Kreise kanaanäische Theologumena aufgenommen zu haben.”45 The end of the development also lies with the Deuteronomist redactor, according to Stolz. In the oldest layers, a sharpened conflict with the Canaanite world can be noticed. The conflict does not just concern politics, but religion. According to Stolz, we can no longer retrieve whether we have to do with a period just before the exile, for example Josiah’s time, or with a period at the beginning of the exile. In any case, the youngest Deuteronomist layers are accompanied by the advent of “eine letzte Theoretisierung und ein völliger Geschehensverlust”. “Der Jahwekrieg wird zum Schema.”46 Again, we see an impressive reconstruction in Stolz’s theory. His portrayal of the tension between the prophetic and the royal ideologies is very interesting. At the same time, Stolz proves that it did not happen in that way in practice. It is just as easy to imagine that the

44 45 46

Stolz, Jahwes und Israels Kriege, 188. Stolz, Jahwes und Israels Kriege, 174. Stolz, Jahwes und Israels Kriege, 205.

20

chapter one

Deuternomist history is a projection onto the past. Interesting as it may be, the explanation based on Arabic customs from a much later period is rather weak. P. Weimar, Die Jahwekriegserzählungen in Exodus 14, Josua 10, Richter 4 und 1 Samuel 7 (1976) Weimar’s 1976 article stands outside of the mainstream discussion to some degree, with its rather particular theory: “Die Jahwekriegserzählungen in Exodus 14, Josua 10, Richter 4 und 1 Samuel 7”.47 Weimar believes that the theory of the holy war is not a young and Deuteronomist story but old and, more precisely, from David’s time. He analyzes a set of four stories and finds them to be linked. One of the most important binding elements is the emphasis on YHWH’s intervention that prevents the people from fighting itself. Weimar sees this as a point of criticism on king David. After all, he had seized power with an army of mercenaries rather than with an peoples army. “Der Ausbau einer ‘Königsideologie’ mit all ihren Konsequenzen wird von jahwetreuen Kreisen nicht widerspruchslos hingenommen worden sein. Als Dokument einer solchen Auseinandersetzung mit dem Anspruch des Königstum ist die vorjahwistische Exodusgeschichte anzusehen. Die kritische Gegenposition, die hier aufgebaut wird, besteht darin, dass die Errettung Israels am Meer als ‘Krieg Jahwes’ gedeutet und der Sieg im Krieg ganz allein als Jahwes Sieg aufgefasst wird, an dem Israel nur als passiver Zuschauer beteiligt is.”48 The same point of criticism on David is said to be the most important theme of Judges 4: it is YHWH who travels ahead of Barak, and all Barak has to do is pursue the enemy. In this interpretation of Joshua 10 the story that speaks of a coalition of five Canaanite kings would in reality be a polemic against the Canaanization under kind David’s rule. In 1 Samuel 7, in which victory is ascribed to Samuel, we once again find criticism on David’s unauthorized policies. Weimer sees the cradle of this criticism as: “jahwetreuen Kreise am Jerusalemer Hof, die gegen Davids Politik gezielt Front machen.”49 The fact that the story deals with different individuals entirely, only shows how careful one should be in one’s interpretation. Although

47 48 49

Bibl 57 (1976), 38–73. Weimar, “Die Jahwekriegserzählungen”, 42. Weimar, “Die Jahwekriegserzählungen”, 69.

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21

Weimar does not mention the example, he apparently sees all these stories in the line of Nathan’s parable (2 Sam. 12:1–4). Unfortunately, he does not mention how we should envision opposition at the court. Overall, this theory comes across as very implausible and artificial. One does not generally have a bad impression about David’s position from the Deuteronomistic History. The extent to which Weimar has to twist his argument can be told from the following extract on Judges 4: “Die damit sich zeigende Beziehung von Barakgeschichte und 2 Sam 5,17–21/22–25 dürfte nicht auf Zufall beruhen, sonder anzeigen wollen, dass mit dem Krieg zwischen Barak und Sisera in Wirklichkeit der entscheidende und endgültige Sieg über die Philister durch David angezielt ist. In diesem Fall kann die Barakgeschichte eigenlich nur im Süden entstanden sein, wobei man am ehesten an Kreise am Jerusalemer Hof zu denken hat. Da aber der geographische Rahmen gerade in den Norden weist, ist damit zu rechnen, dass die Tradentenkreise, die die Geschichte ausgebildet haben, engere Berührung mit dem Gebiet des späteren Nordreichs Israel gehabt haben dürften, wenn man nicht sogar an eine Herkunft aus Israel denken will.”50 M.C. Lind, Yahweh is a Warrior (1980) In 1980 the Mennonite Lind ventures into the theme of war in the Old Testament, a theme that is important to his fellow Mennonites.51 As the subtitle, “the Theology of Warfare in Ancient Israel”, indicates, the book is mainly biblical-theological in nature, more systematic-theological than Old-Testamentical. Lind investigates the theological implications of the phrase “YHWH is a warrior” (Ex. 15:3), specifically the question to which extent the phrase can be understood as synergetic. In other words: did the belief that YHWH is a warrior constitute an encouragement for Israel to fight with its God or, to the contrary, to trust God in pacifistic surrender? Lind believes that the Old-Testamentical theology had three implications: (1) YHWH fought for his people by means of miracles, not by means of sword and spear.

50

Weimar, “Die Jahwekriegserzählungen”, 50. M.C. Lind, Yahweh is a Warrior: The Theology of Warfare in Ancient Israel, Scottdale 1980. 51

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(2) Not only was YHWH Israel’s warrior, he was also Israel’s king. This implies that the ideal of a prophetic policy stood at odds with a concept of kingship founded on Ancient Near Eastern ideologies from the very beginning. (3) YHWH’s warfare did not only aim itself against Israel’s enemies but also against Israel itself. This happened when Israel did not stick to the ideal mentioned under (2), and instead wanted to conform to other peoples and their (war) ideologies. Up until this point, Lind’s theory will seem fairly familiar to us. We can recognize a combination of theologoumena from the book Isaiah and from the stories in the Deuteronomistic History. They are late theological constructions from a period much later than the entry of David and Omri. Exactly in that fact lays the difference between Lind and other exegetes such as Von Rad. While most assume that they YHWH-war was originally understood in a synergetic sense (in Judges 5 the phrasing was still that the tribes came to help the Lord), Lind thinks that the three aforementioned points are old. He thinks that the only implication of the fact that judges and kings may just have understood things differently is that they did not always pay attention. In a way, Lind returns to the uncritical image of the development of Israel as it stood until Wellhausen. A good example of this can be found in the period of the patriarchs. The stories surrounding these personalities are in essence very peaceful: Abraham and Lot split up in order to avoid quarrel, Jakob offers himself as a vassal (‫ )עבד‬of Esau. This peaceful character poses a puzzle to the exegetes who want to date these stories in the time period of the kings, such as Wellhausen, writes Lind, who for this reason supposes that these stories are indeed very old. Their peaceful character is best explained by dating these stories in a period before the entrance.52 52 Compare J. van Seters, “Confessional Reformulation in the Exilic Period”, VT 22 (1972), 448–459. Lind apparently did not know this article. Van Seters signals the difference between the peaceful traditions surrounding the patriarchs and the later traditions springing for example from exodus. He also notices the difference between the unconditional promise of the land to Abraham and the conditional promise of to generation of the exodus. However, Van Seters, whom we will discuss further on, seeks starting points for dating outside of the texts. He who reads the oldest scriptural prophets, has to conclude that the books hardly ever speak of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. When these prophets speak about the “fathers”, they always refer to the generation of the exodus. Van Seters therefore believes that the tradition of the patriarchs does not spring from the time of the kings, and can certainly not be dated to a period before,

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Lind, in other words, is keen to prove that the peaceful traditions from the Old Testament are old. What is more, he is on the look-out for differences with the Ancient Near Eastern context, because he considers it a theme in the Old Testament that the people of Israel should not become “as the other peoples”. This difference, in his view, mainly comes to the fore in the attitude towards the king. For Lind, the Red Sea story is paradigmatic: “We note that Yahweh is first called warrior (YHWH iš mil ama, v. 3) in a situation where he exercises his judgment by a nature miracle, where Israel does not fight at all. This is especially decisive since the Red Sea deliverance forms the paradigm for Israel’s future salvation.”53 The interesting thing is that Lind on the one hand places this story in the Ancient Near Eastern context, but on the other hand places a sharp emphasis on the differences with that context. For example, he refers to the story of Baal, who beats the sea god Yamm before he becomes king. Indeed, this is an Ancient Near Eastern scheme that we will also encounter in the Kulamuwa inscription: a king can proof his legitimacy by winning a war.54 This shines an interesting light on the story of the exile in general and on Exodus 15 in particular: after he has defeated the enemy by the sea, YHWH becomes king at the Sinai. “The Lord will reign for ever and ever.” (Ex. 15:18) The difference with the Ancient Near Eastern context is thus not the mythology, nor is it the thought that gods intervene in the fight, nor the belief that trusting the gods is more important than trust in weapons. The difference according to Lind lies in the exclusivity of YHWH: in the Old Testament, YHWH was only the warrior and He was only the king: “Outside of Israel the experience of divinity in history was god and king. Within Israel the experience of divinity in history was Yahweh versus king.”55 The extent to which Lind identifies the synergism as a focal point of the difference between the Bible and the Ancient Near East, becomes clear from the way in which he treats the famous and often-cited passage in the song of Deborah that says that the people came to help the Lord ( Jgs 5:23). Lind states that this is the only place in the Old Testament rather, he believes it should be dated to a later period. The conditional promise of the land, that had the function in penitential preaching before the exile, was exchanged for the unconditional promise of land during the exile. This was implemented as consolation and encouragement for Judah. 53 Lind, Yahweh is a Warrior, 49. 54 See chapter 3.2. 55 Lind, Yahweh is a Warrior, 52.

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where this occurs and that it is thus a small basis for postulating an original synergism. He moreover thinks it is not without reason that the story concerns the Canaanite group Meroz and not an Israelite tribe. The question is not whether the people fight with YHWH or not, the question is whether a Canaanite group supports the Israelite tribes as Jael did, or stands back. The crystallization point of the controversies in the history of the war in old Israel, is the kingship in Lind’s analysis. It is in the cry for a king that the temptation to become “like all the other nations” can best be seen (1 Sam. 8:5). It happens to be the case that the Deuteronomistic redactor from the later period stood positively towards the house of David. The fact that there were nonetheless such clear anti-monarchic voices, is an indication of the volume of these voices. The prophet Samuel attempts to devise a compromise: the king shall be appointed by a prophet, he shall be called ‫( נגד‬leader, 1 Sam. 9:16) and not ‫מלך‬, and he shall have to cooperate closely with the prophet in times of war. It soon becomes clear that Samuel’s compromise does not work. The yahwistic stream clashes even more with David than it did with Saul. He uses a private army, wages obviously offensive wars and the low point is the census. Lind sees the royal ideology especially articulated in the psalms. We often stumble upon Canaanite motives. On the other hand, we find much criticism on the kingship in the Deuteronomistic History. This has to be ascribed to the sources (the Vorlagen) used by the Deuteronomistic redactor. The history of the accession, for example, is a very critical document, as are the many stories about prophets that take up a position against the king. Some examples exist of prophets that stand behind the king, such as the 400 in 1 Kings 20. “Most of the narratives in which the prophets cooperate with kingship in warfare are accounts involving Yahweh’s miracle. The few that do not are the ones come closest to the Mari and other Near Eastern examples of relationships between prophet and warfare.”56 In Lind’s reading, the end of the story is also Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomist redactor. Concerning Deuteronomy, Lind has to admit: “The original Book of Deuteronomy is saturated with numerous examples of the aggressive spirit of holy war.”57 Lind can only try to make the author of the book look better by pointing at the difficult

56 57

Lind, Yahweh is a Warrior, 142. Lind, Yahweh is a Warrior, 146.

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period in which the book was written. He additionally emphasizes that this writer, too, takes a very critical stand about the kingship (Deut. 17:14–20) and that he pleads for the old practice in the warfare (Deut. 20). The writer also shows that the difference between Israel and the surrounding people cannot be found in an alleged superiority, but in the Torah. Lastly, the Deuteronomist, who was probably impressed by Josiah’s reforms, seems to be torn between aversion of the kingship on the one hand, and on the other had an appreciation of Josiah as well as faith in the promise to the house of David. All in all, the image that Lind designs is also very beautiful, even sympathetic, although we realize that these are not scientific characterizations. Lind’s analyses of the similarities and differences with the Ancient Eastern context are well balanced. He does not reduce the two traditions to one and the same, but neither does he set them up as two perfectly different worlds. Yet the question that remains, more so with this study than with the ones discussed before, is whether we can trace the tradition back that far. Lind’s theory is more convincing as a theology of the Deuteronomistic History, than as a historical reconstruction. His uncritical, almost biblical use of the texts stands in his way. Sa-Moon Kang, Divine War in the Old Testament and in the Ancient Near East (1989) In a comprehensive and precise study published in 1989, Kang treats the motives of what he calls ‘divine war’ in several Ancient Near Eastern cultures: Mesopotamia, Anatolia, Syria-Palestina en Egypt.58 In part two of his study he compares the results with the information from the Old Testament. We shall come back to this in paragraph 1.3.2; here, we shall just treat his historical analysis of the ‘divine war’ in the Old Testament. His reconstruction deviates entirely from his predecessors. Based on the Ancient Near Eastern material, he concludes that the rise of a ‘divine warrior’ was inextricably bound up with the foundation of a new empire. “The other divine warriors began to appear with the establishment of each empire like Inanna/Ishtar of the Sargonic, Marduk of

58 Sa-Moon Kang, Divine War in the Old Testament and in the Ancient Near East (BZAW 177), Berlin-New York 1989.

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the Old Babylonian, and Ashur of the Assyrian Empire.”59 Kang considers Ugarit a good example of what happened when a state did not become an empire: the traditions remained mythological and were not associated with historical events or concrete wars. He therefore thinks it is justified to generalize his statement and turn it around: as soon as the divine war is mentioned in the sense of a divine intervention in a concrete war, we find ourselves in the historic vicinity of a young empire. This way of reasoning leads Kang to David: “Throughout the whole history of Israel David’s kingdom was not only the first, but also the greatest state to arise on the soil of Palestine, except the Hyksos.”60 David himself, who skilfully manipulates the power that arose in the international political arena, must have been surprised by his own success: the unification of Israel, the defeat of the Philistines, the annexation of Ammon as a province, and the appointment as vassals of Moab and Edom. His son Salomon even married an Egyptian princess, an act that clearly indicates the balance of power in his time. “These environmental factors beyond the control of David might have been considered as divine support making his kingdom to rise. The achievements of David in his battles began to give a legitimation of divine mission.”61 Psalm 47 is also placed in the context of the cult of Jerusalem by Kang. He construes a ceremony in which David’s vassals had to state their loyalty to YHWH and David. YHWH, expressly identified as El Elyon (verse 3), is called “great king” ( ‫ = מלך גדל‬šarru rabû), who “subdued peoples under us, and nations under our feet.” (verse 4). It sounds like an imperial idiom. David in his turn sees himself as a vassal of YHWH. He is called “the son of YHWH” after the Ancient Near Eastern ways. (2 Sam. 7:14). De relationship sovereign-vassal is established in the alliance with David. In the future, David’s enemies will be YHWH’s enemies and David’s warfare a tool in YHWH’s hands to carry out his rule. War is considered in judiciary terms. This also means that YHWH can punish his people—a way of thinking that we also encounter outside of the Bible. These two lines later become the fundamental principle of the

59 60 61

Kang, Divine War, 108. Kang, Divine War, 193. Kang, Divine War, 194.

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Deuteronomistic theology, says Kang: well-being in response to loyalty, punishment after insubordination to YHWH. Although Kang’s plea is not very systematic, one gets the impression that his reconstruction more or less resembles the following. As soon as a YHWH war occurs, the text should be dated in the period after David. Most war stories from the exodus until the time of the judges therefore reflect a later period than the one they describe. This does not mean that they cannot involve the reformulation of older stories. The more religious the interpretation, the younger a text is said to be. We can look at the ban as an example. The extrabiblical material gives us the impression that the ban could be an ultimate way of implicating a divinity in the battle. This is the historic meaning of the ban in the context of the YHWH war. The ban motivated by the argument that no Canaanite people should remain, is a young theological construction of the Deuteronomist redactor. We have not the smallest indication of such a genocide occurring in David’s time. Kang accordingly places many of the stories from the book of Joshua in the time of the Deuteronomist redactor, to be specific at the time of the temple reform by Josiah. It is striking how one can come to such diverse conclusions based on the same material. It can be seen as Kang’s merit that he includes extrabiblical material in his reconstruction. However, as a result of weighting the criterion of the analogy that strongly, he inevitably comes to a conclusion that is diametrically opposed to Lind’s. After all, in Lind’s reading, the thought that Israel could not become “like the other peoples” was on of the most important themes. Kang starts with the assumption that Israel was the same as the other peoples! In doing so, he seems to close himself of to possible differences between the cultures from the beginning. Evaluation By now, we have seen that there are many different theories concerning the question how the ideology of war developed in the Old Testament. Clarity, however, seems inversely related to the number of reconstructions. Putting it simply: one can’t see the wood from the trees. Is the story of the exodus in Exodus 14–15 the oldest experience of a war with YHWH and a paradigm for later experiences? Does it concern David’s unexpected military successes? Or does it derive from circles that were critical of King David? Is it possible to find a way out of this jungle of hypotheses?

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We used the metaphor of a detective in the introduction. A detective, especially when he is merely a literary character, may have many hypothetical reconstructions in the back of his mind. These hypotheses may well fulfil a heuristic purpose. Inspector Columbo finally poses one question to his suspect, which arises from a presupposition that he has already formed by that time. At the same time, we know that he will only possess actual evidence once he is on a concrete track or once he has obtained a confession. We moreover know that reality is always different than the audience expects. Another literary example can be found in the form of the novel The Assault by Harry Mulisch. The facts that serve as a starting point for the quest of the leading character become clear in the first chapter: a collaborator has been murdered in front of the front door of the neighbours. These neighbours drag the body to the house of the main character, who is still a boy at the time. The parents and elder brother of the main character are thereupon murdered by the Nazi’s as a measure of retaliation and the house is set in fire. These are the facts. But what inspired the neighbours to drag the body away and why did they drag it to the house of people they got along with well? Why did they not drag the body to the house of the other neighbours, with whom nobody had any contact? Why had the collaborator been murdered in their street? And why had the man become an collaborator? The main character has some suppositions surrounding all these questions, but he only finds answers little by little in the years after the war, through chance meetings with the former principal characters or their children. The last piece of the puzzle does not fall until 1981. It is not until that moment that the truth turns out to be much more absurd than he could have ever imagined. An author who was very well aware of this methodological aspect is Smith.62 Although he trusts the results of text critical research (dividing the sources), he believes that it is nearly impossible to find a relationship between the texts and the reality from which they spring without outside information. The Old Testament itself was passed on by certain groups in ancient Israel, while our knowledge about them derives from the Old Testament. This will always lead to circular reasoning. “Once it is recognized that we are dealing with a body of texts which do not

62 M. Smith, Palestinian Parties and Politics that Shaped the Old Testament, New York/ London 1971.

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directly or fully represent their original environment then the importance of the history of selection, copying and edition, sketched earlier in this chapter, become clear. The partial preservation of the evidence may be explained by the partiality of those who preserved it [. . .] The primary Sitz im Leben of the books of the Old Testament therefore is their role in the life of those who wrote, copied and corrected them.”63 The monotheism of the Israelite religion is an example of what Smith means. The Deuteronomistic History suggests that this monotheism was the original religion of the people of Israel, and became a syncretism in the country of Canaan. This representation of the facts has been shown to be incorrect from archaeological findings, including votive figurines. The historical order is probably the opposite. From the amalgam of religions that will have existed at the level of the people of old, a group sprang that wanted to propagate monotheism. This group laid down its vision on history in the Deuteronomistic History. Looking at the Old Testament in this way leads to the observation that the amalgam is reflected in small elements such as names of persons and places. Saul, for example, names one son after Baal (Ishbaal) and another after YHWH ( Jonathan). In this manner, Smith sets us on the trail of “those who wrote, copied and corrected” the Old Testament. The question that follows is: which information do we posses about the history of writing, about the writers and the genres they made use of ? Two authors in particular have occupied themselves with this question during the past years: Smelik64 and Van Seters.65 Their conclusions are, independently of one another, very similar. They both approach the topic by looking at the “historiografic genius” of Israel. Traditional source theory sees the Yahwist as an author who wrote his stories in the tenth or ninth century. And David’s throne succession narrative (2 Sam. 11–1 Kings 2) is even said to stem from Salomon’s time. But nowhere in the contemporary world do we find texts of comparable high literary quality. It is not until 500 years later 63

Smith, Palestinian Parties and Politics, 9. K.A.D. Smelik, Saul: De voorstelling van Israëls eerste koning in de Masoretische tekst van het Oude Testament (diss.), Amsterdam 1977 and: “The use of the Hebrew Bible as a historical source: An Introduction”, in: Converting the Past: Studies in Ancient Israelite and Moabite Historiography, Leiden 1992, 1–34. 65 J. van Seters, In Search of History: Histiography in the Ancient World and the Origins of Biblical History, New Haven/London 1983. 64

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that we come across someone like Herodotus, who is a story teller of similar stature as the Yahwist. Both Van Seters and Smelik wonder whether it is historically not more plausible to switch things around: if comparable literary genres can only be found with the surrounding cultures halfway through the first millennium, should we not suppose that the Old Testament stories similarly stem from a much later period?66 If we then go on to consider the genres employed, we find the same for the entire Ancient Near Eastern world of the era: building inscriptions or votive inscriptions stating that someone, generally the king, either devoted a certain building to a divinity or claimed authorship of it. Beside these, there are the commemoration inscriptions such as stela’s. These have not been found in ancient Israel to this date, but two have been found in Israel’s direct vicinity: the Mesha and Tell Dan Stela. Furthermore, kings kept texts at their courts, such as annals (these are mainly known from Assyria), chronicles (especially from Babylon) and kings lists. We happen to know that the kings lists and the chronicles were highly formulaic in nature. They were structured per year or per king and every new paragraph started with the same words. They incorporated a limited number of topics of interest: for example, the length of the reign of a king, his succession, usurpation and such details. As the case may be, we often find references to the “chronicles of the kings of Judah/Israel” in the books of the Kings.67 It does not seem to imply a literary and/or a fictional element.68 What is more, throughout the books of the Kings we find turns of phrases that are very formulaic and show interest in a few subjects: the length of government, succession, usurpation. Moreover, the information in these parts proves to be highly accurate for as far as we can verify. And: the formulas differ from those for the kings of Judah and those of Israel.69 In short: on the basis of elements found outside the Bible,

66 Herodotus about 450 v Chr., Berossus approximately 350 v Chr., Philo van Byblos about 100 v. Chr. 67 See for example, K.A.D. Smelik and H.J. van Soest, “Openingsformules in het boek Koningen: De compositie van het boek Koningen (2)”, ACEBT 12 (1993), 62–86. H. Weippert, “Die ‘deuteronomistischen’ Beurteilungen der Könige von Israel und Juda und das Problem der Redaktion der Königsbücher”, Bibl 53 (1972), 301–339. 68 See Smelik, Saul, 34–64. 69 A. Jepsen, Die Quellen des Königsbuches, Halle 1956, gives a total reconstruction of these formulas on pp. 30–36, which he calls the “Synchronistische Chronik” (S). The formulas for Israel are: “A (son of B) reigned over Israel in Tirzah/Samaria for n years” or “And he reigned over Israel for n years in Tirzah/Samaria”. In the Judaic chronicle it was the following: “And for n years he reigned in Jerusalem.”

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we can suppose that chronicles or annals existed at the courts of Judah and Israel. If we then look at the Bible with this information at the back of our minds, this supposition is confirmed and we can establish that Judah and Israel had chronicles rather than annals.70 This leads us to look at extrabiblical information on the history of writing itself. As we discussed above, we have indications that writing occurred at the courts from the time of the kings onwards. But from which moment onwards did writing spread itself to other layers of the population? From archaeology, we can infer that the earliest epigraphical texts outside of a court in Israel stem from approximately the eighth century.71 With this information in the back of our minds, it is striking that the first scriptural prophets occur halfway through the eighth century. We have not been handed down any texts from Elijah en Elisha, who are said to have lived in the ninth century, but we have texts by Amos en Isaiah in the eighth century. Considering moreover the literary observations of Smelik,72 as well as Fokkelman’s studies on the books of Samuel,73 it becomes increasingly more difficult to figure out from which sources the texts derive, as they show that the texts refer to each other constantly. The conclusion can only be that the Deuteronomistic History is a literary unity that must have come into being at the time of the exile.74 The method of the Deuteronomist redactor probably bore a close resemblance to that of Herodotus, writes Van Seters.75 Presently, the following assumptions are made both about Herodotus’ method and about the Deuteronomist redactor:

70

We shall discuss an annal as well as a chronicle in chapter 3. The difference is in short the following. A chronicle discusses the most important events per year, using a stenographic form of language. It is possible that chronicles initially served the practicle purpose of dating events or contracts. Annals are an Assyric discovery. An annal features a king telling tales about the outcome of his battles in the first person and in a more or less continuous story. See Van Seters, In Search of History, 60–68 and 79–92. 71 See K.A.D. Smelik, Historische Dokumente aus dem alten Israel, Göttingen, 1987. 72 Smelik, Saul. 73 J.P. Fokkelman, Narrative Art and Poetry in the Books of Samuel; Volumes I–IV (SSN 20, 23, 27, 31), Assen 1981–1996. 74 It is sometimes also assumed that a first version of the work was finished just before the exile. In this reading, the Deuteronomistic History would have ended with Hezekiah or Josiah. See Smelik, “The use of the Hebrew Bible as historical source”, in: Converting the Past, 18. 75 Van Seters, In Search of History, 40–54.

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– a very limited use of written sources, these were used for the chronological framework at the most. – in those cases that no information is available, the use of standard figures such as 33 or 40 years for a generation. – within this framework, the use of anecdotes and legends, originating from the oral tradition or the author’s imagination. – the far past is reconstructed by means of genealogies, as well as with anecdotal and folkloric digressions (for example the legendary inventors of farming, fire and winegrowing). – the past is seen as a mirror for the present. – a scheme of godly providence, retribution and salvation. – many typical numbers (3, 7, 10 en 12) and scenes. All of the above means that a historic reconstruction of an institution such as the “holy war” becomes impossible.76 The stories from the Deuteronomistic History mostly reflect the realities of “those who wrote, copied and corrected them”, in other words, of the people of Israel during the exile. The stories form a mirror for the contemporaries of the writer, just like Herodotus’ tales. Smelik illustrates this by using the story about the ark: not an amfictyonic sanctuary, no Davidian reinterpretation of a cult-like object from Silo, but a story how “the glory has departed from Israel because of the capture of the ark of God” (1 Sam. 4:21–22), while the ark is too powerful for the foreign gods even in exile.77 For our research, all the above means that it is advisable to approach the theme in a different manner, namely in a literary manner. A literary analysis should precede a historic reconstruction, but we shall restrict ourselves to the former method only. The question shall be: In which genres from the Ancient Near Eastern was war a theme and what were the literary techniques used?

We will limit ourselves to texts that stem from grosso modo the same period as the period in which the Deuteronomistic History developed, since we have seen that it is plausible that the genre of chronicles 76

See Smelik, Saul, 213. Smelik, “Hidden messages in the Ark Narrative: An analysis of I Samuel iv–vi and II Samuel vi”, in: Converting the Past, 35–58. 77

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was implied in Israel, based on analogies with texts from the Ancient Near East. It is conceivable that other genres were employed. Even if this were not the case, these texts may shed light on the genre and techniques within the Deuteronomistic History by contrast. We shall therefore focus on the texts from the period 835 B.C. (Mesha Stela) till 520 B.C. (Chronicle of Esarhaddon). This leads us to the next paragraph: what is known about the war in the ancient Eastern world? 1.3.2. War in the Ancient Near East Having discussed Ancient Israel, we now turn to the Ancient Near East. What do we know about war in this area, in this period? Our discussion shall concentrate on ideology rather than on warfare. We are interested in motivations and justifications rather than in tactics, development of weaponry and historical facts such as battles. We shall impose another limitation on ourselves by focussing on Assyria. This decision is inspired by the fact that relatively many scholars have written about Assyria. Over the course of time, the Assyrian Empire developed into one of the first military superpowers. Nonetheless, its contribution to global cultural history has remained limited to (military) techniques and but one literary genre—the annals.78 Those annals happen to have war as their main subject.79 T. Fish, “War and Religion in Ancient Mesopotamia” (1939) One of the first studies on Ancient Near Eastern ideology of war is an article by Fish from 1939, “War and Religion in Ancient Mesopotamia”.80 For the reasons mentioned above, he narrows the Ancient Near Eastern down to Assyria. He shortly places a number of issues in perspective, and many of his conclusions seem valid up until today.

78 W. von Soden, “Die Assyrer und der Krieg”, Iraq 25 (1963), 131–144, especially 131: “Assyrien gilt da [i.e. among sociologists] als das Muster eines Militärstaates, dessen kulturelle Leistung recht bescheiden gewesen sei.” 79 Centuries later, it is clear that the Assyrians were successful in their efforts to create a warlike image for themselves with their bas reliefs and annals. In the midrash, the story is told that God offered the ten commandments to several peoples on the Sinai. However, when the Assyrians heard of the commandment ‘thou shalt not kill’, they refused the commands, because they made their livelihood of genocide. 80 T. Fish, “War and Religion in Ancient Mesopotamia”, BJRL 23 (1939), 387– 402.

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Fish discerns between the occasion of war and the justification thereof. In his view, an economic need for raw materials such as wood and metal should generally be seen as the most frequent occasions of war. Furthermore, psychological motivations such as greed and desire for power played a role. On the other hand, the justifications that were generally given include the enemy entering a hostile alliance, the violation of a treaty, or some sort of aggression against Assyria. In the Assyrian views on government, the king was seen as a shepherd of his subjects, the keeper of their well-being and welfare. Yet, it was the god Ashur, not the king who stood at the top of the pyramid. Disloyal behaviour with respect to the king automatically meant disloyalty with respect to Ashur. “It is implied in the circumstance that treaties between ‘powers’ were described as treaties between the chief gods of the powers. To break a treaty was an act of rebellion not so much against the city or kingdom with which the treaty was made, as against the god of that city or kingdom.”81 Enemies of Assyria were enemies of the god Ashur. Rites and myths were supposed to deepen the awareness that the god was the centre of the nation’s activities. The prophets formed a central class. “No public work of any kind could be undertaken until the signs had been read by them.”82 The god was a conditio sine qua non of a people. Consider the Israelites’ despair when the ark had been captured (1 Sam. 4). Dragging away a (statue of a) god equalled cutting out the heart of a people. This also explains why deportation was seen as a severe punishment. “It is not surprising that the Assyrians, in this belief, often deported whole populations, thereby separating them from their native deities and breaking the original and strongest bond of local unity and patriotism, whilst allowing those peoples to live in lands far away from their homes, under Assyrian protection but for Assyria’s benefit.”83 Thus war was pre-eminently the domain of the gods. The king’s wars were the wars of his god. Divinity and king shared the spoils, with the first of the two receiving the larger part. If a king wanted to thank his god, three options were open to him: a. erecting a large statue for himself in the foreign country, on which he then engraved the great

81 82 83

Fish, “War and Religion”, 392. Fish, “War and Religion”, 393. Fish, “War and Religion”, 393.

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deeds of his god, b. imposing a tribute on the defeated people that was then devoted the divinity, or c. building a temple. “Consequently, it is right to say that from start to finish wars were waged in an atmosphere of religion, as though the battlefields were temples where gods and men met in religious self-neighbourhood.”84 W. von Soden, “Die Assyrer und der Krieg” (1963) Von Soden discusses a number of aspects of warfare in Assyria in a paper he wrote in 1963.85 He offers two reasons for his specific focus on the Assyrian wars. Firstly, it is remarkable that the Assyrians, whose original land base was small, built a large empire that lasted longest of all empires in the Ancient Near East. Secondly, Assyria’s wars seem particularly cruel. Our sources also have a few limitations, however: “Die Köningsinschriften dienen dem Selbstruhm und der Propaganda.”86 As a consequence, humiliations were concealed and victories were exaggerated. For example, in the “letters to the gods” by Sargon II and Esarhaddon, improbably, the number of lost lives mentioned is six. The inscriptions as well as the bas reliefs had as their intention to take away any desire the enemy may have had to revolt; hence the gruesome depiction of punishments and mass deportations. On the other hand, there are many things that we would like to know but cannot find in these texts. Names of generals and ministers, for example, were left out; most likely so as to not award these officials any honour that became the king. We similarly do not find much exact tactics and strategic plans, probably because this was sensitive information to the military. Von Soden also sees underlying economic reasons as the main motivation for Assyrians to wage war. In this reading, the reason that Babylonians were less belligerent than the Assyrians has everything to do with the fact that the former lived in a warmer, moister and more fertile area. The need for war was less obvious to them. Other peoples tended to be as belligerent as the Assyrians, especially those that lived in areas that did not yield sufficient nutrition at times. The Hurrites from

84 85 86

Fish, “War and Religion”, 399. W. von Soden, “Die Assyrer und der Krieg”, Iraq 25 (1963), 131–144. Von Soden, “Die Assyrer und der Krieg”, 132.

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Urartu could also be cruel, for example. This population group was also present in Assyria and it is likely that they influenced the Assyrians. Still, most wars had a defensive character up until the beginning of the Middle Assyrian period. Even Adad-Nirari I (1308–1276) built a sizeable range of strongholds in the city of Ashur, clearly keeping the possibility of an attack in mind. It is with Shalmaneser I (1276–1246) and his son Tukulti-Ninurta I (1246–1209) that we encounter the first of a series of Assyrian conquerors. Von Soden, like Fish, notices that other motives were mentioned as a legitimisation of war: “Gewiss betont auch er [i.e. Tukulti-Ninurta I] mehrfach, wie das auch später immer wieder und sicher oft mit Recht geschah, dass die Feinde angegriffen hätten oder abgefallen seien; er lastet damit diesen die Schuld für alle Kriegshandlungen an. In anderen Fällen aber genügt ihm die Berufung auf den Auftrag des Gottes Assur, um einen Kriegszug zu rechtfertigen. Wenn ich recht sehe, setzt erst mit ihm recht eigenlich die Ideologisierung des Assurkultes ein, in deren Folge der Anspruch Assurs auf die Beherrschung aller Länder immer nachdrücklicher vertreten wird.”87 The more Ashur became the empire’s god, the lesser his importance to the ordinary citizens of Assyria. Not one prayer to Ashur is known except for those found in the national cult. Nabu, Adad and Shamash also increasingly replace Assur in the custom of name-giving, except with soldiers and public servants. King Tukulti-Ninurta I makes Shamash a full part of the national cult: in his role of Ashur’s right hand he becomes the guardian of justice. “Damit gewinnt die assyrische Kriegsideologie ihre eigentümliche juridische Ausprägung, die sich in dieser Weise m.W. bei den anderen Völkern dieser Zeit nicht findet.”88 From Shalmaneser I onwards we find the first descriptions of atrocities: the sticking out of eyes, the massacre of cities, mass deportations. M. Liverani, “The Ideology of the Assyrian Empire” (1979) Liverani designed some sort of a ‘grammar of imperialist ideologies’ in a particularly captivating, somewhat philosophical article.89 He sketches the specific aspects of the Assyrian ideology against the background of this general, generic grammar. 87

Von Soden, “Die Assyrer und der Krieg”, 135. Von Soden, “Die Assyrer und der Krieg”, 136. 89 M. Liverani, “The Ideology of the Assyrian Empire”, in: M.T. Larsen (ed.), Power and Propaganda: A Symposium on Ancient Empires, Kopenhagen 1979, 297–317. 88

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His fundamental idea is the following: an imperialistic system is always a “systematization of unbalance”. Imperialism is based on the transfer of power and goods from the mass to the small ruling elite, from the periphery to the centre. The two groups have essentially opposed interests. The transfer will therefore not take place on its own, seeing that it is an unnatural process, an “unbalance”. By itself, the situation incites resistance and opposition. Ideology and economics thus fall into a logical and natural place with Liverani. Ideology has as its function that it encourages people to believe that it is in their own interest to give up goods. A farmer on the far countryside of Assyria who has never been threatened in his life, can be motivated to hand over a part of his harvest when he hears all the proud stories about war on distant fronts so as to keep the machinery of war in place. Remote peoples can be kept calm if they can be made to believe that Assyria has a divine right to a tribute. “Ideology has thus the aim of facilitating the action, of overcoming the resistance; in the case of imperialism it has the aim of bringing about the exploitation of man by man, by providing the motivation to receive the situation of inequality as ‘right’, as based on qualitative differences, as entrusted to the ‘right’ people for the good of all.”90 It is thus ideology’s task to present something unnatural as natural or as rooted in a divine order. In other words, an ideology should always explain why “some animals are more equal than other animals”. The ‘grammar’ of the ideology stipulates that the unity and equality be reinterpreted as diversity and inequality. Not all people are equal (some people are slaves or seen as uncultured), not all areas are equal (some areas are colonies or developing areas), not all goods are equal (raw materials are ours to be processed into much nobler final products). An imperialist ideology shall try to assert that it is indeed in the interest of the subjected peoples that they give up their goods, for they receive protection, civilization, development or final products in return. Liverani discusses this theme, unity and diversity, in four factors: space, time, people and goods. For each of these factors he searches examples from the Assyrian literature.

90

Liverani, “Ideology”, 298.

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Space is not homogenous: there is a centre and there is a periphery. In this way, the unity of all places is decomposed into a diversity that is experienced as normal. The centre is characterized by the fact that we life there. The periphery is threatening because it is abnormal and unknown. The Mesopotamian countryside may still have been known to a citizen of the capital, but this will not have been the case for the mountains in the North, the swamps in the South and the desert in the West. The periphery is inhospitable, barren and at the most useful as for the supply of raw materials.91 All that we find there is chaotic: inexpressible and innumerable (lā nībi respectively lā mīni). The periphery is in essence failed or unfinished cosmos. This ideology forms a response to the fear that the periphery will take over the centre. This fear is averted with the confirmation that the centre is present in the periphery, as can be told from the many comments about the “difficult path” (ašru “place”, girru “campaign”, ur u “path”, arrānu “road” + mar u “tough”, pašqu “difficult”, lā petû “unopened, not-trodden”). The threatening periphery is conquered by the king’s courage, the determination of the Assyrian troops and superior technology. The campaign resembles a journey of discovery in some way, a cognitive action that itself incorporates an element of acquiring control.92 This explains why this theme is always followed by the theme of “stela at the borders of the world”. The stela erected by the king confirms his rule and is also the pole that marks the end of the world. The king’s rule is accordingly described as being “from the Upper sea to the Lower sea” or “until the four corners of the world”. That which is beyond the stela cannot be called “world”, is not a part of the cosmos. The next step is integration of the periphery into the civilized world, into the cosmos. This is done by means of administrative measures (manû “counting”, mašā u “measuring”, nabû “naming”), it is done by cultivating the arable land and by building cities.

91 Compare the english “raw materials” with the german “Rohstoffe”, both of which reflect the idea that materials are rough by nature. 92 Liverani’s theory appears reminiscent of Levinas’ philosophy. Levinas, too, poses the statement that the violence of imperialism, colonialism and even of voyages of discovery and western science depend on reducing the “other” to the “self ”, and/or fitting the “other” in with the “self ”. The other is downsized to what is known as if laying in Procrustus’ bed. See E. Levinas, Het menselijk gelaat: Essays van Emmanuel Levinas. Gekozen en ingeleid door Ad Peperzak, Baarn 1969, especially the essay “De filosofie en de idee van het Oneindige”, 136–151.

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The correct order of the world does not depend on space only, it also depends on time. There used to be a time in which everything was not in order and it is conceivable that a time of chaos will return. The creation marked the beginning of the process from chaos to cosmos, but this is a forever on-going process. The gods created fundamental structures, mythical figures commenced basic institutions and the present king manages the continuation of this process: he possesses the power to begin or end cults and to issue laws. His responsibilities include maintaining the status quo; preventing that the system becomes obsolete (labāru) and collapses; and continuing to work on the system.93 Time is thus not homogenous either but divided into phases that can either be advantageous or disadvantageous. With the role of the king, dynamics are introduced in history. The king stands in the line of the gods and mythical heroes and that line leads him to enact new deeds “which”, as is a usual topos from the royal inscriptions, “none of my predecessors had ever practiced” (ša ina šarrāni ālikūt ma rīya mamma lā epušu). This process occurs in each field of action: in the field of knowledge, the acquisition of territory, the development of new techniques and artistic achievements, and in the field of maintenance. We often run into the theme of the king who reinstates an old place related to the cult or who renovates an old building. The ultimate act of creation is the establishment of a new capital, because this could only occur in the centre and never in the periphery. A third aspect in which diversity is visible is the human aspect. The differences between Assyrians and foreigners are obvious. Assyrians are normal and human while foreigners are strange (compare nakiru = strange > hostile) and speak incomprehensible languages (atmē lā mit urti). The problem is not that the Assyrians do not understand them; the problem is that these people are not human in the first place. Just as the Assyrians are the only people that are normal, no one is equal to the king in his position (šarrūt lā šanān) and Ashur is unique

93 This theory makes clear that warfare and construction, two well-known themes from the genre of ancient eastern royal inscriptions were not seen as two separate themes by the individuals of this period. An inherent connection between the two existed because both themes form a part of the process of creation in which chaos is turned into cosmos, a process directed by the gods, with the king playing a leading role on their behalf.

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and not comparable to other gods worshipped in other countries. The king, who has been elected the chosen one by the gods (migir ilāni ), can therefore act in the knowledge he can fully trust (tukultu) his god Ashur. All others that also call themselves king mistakenly trust themselves and their own strength (ana emūqi ramāni ) rather than Ashur. They will never make it. The meeting between these two types of people can only lead to the elimination of the second type, being the stranger. This meeting can take place in any of two ways: subjection (kanāšu “to subject oneself ”, šēpē našāqu “to kiss feet”) or rebellion (nabalkutu). The latter way is clearly a sin ( i u “sin”, arnu “guilt”, gillatu “crime”), a sign of insanity and evilness. The enemy should be eliminated in this case. He is abnormal, unnatural and the best strategy for the Assyrian is to kill him, which is then the enemy’s own fault. The latter actions can hardly be carried out in a normal war, seeing that the Assyrian kings are such different types of people. This is why the enemy generally runs away for the frightful splendor, the “shock and awe” of the king (melammu “splendor”, pulu tu “fear”, rašubbatu “deterrence”). If a battle takes place at all (ta āzu “battle”, tam āru “fight”) it is very one-sided: it boils down to a slaughter (abiktu). The enemy disappears in one of several ways: death, internal strife, suicide, flight to a country very far away. The descriptions eagerly embrace imagery from hunting to emphasize the animalistic, non-human aspect of the enemy. After the war, subjection (kanāšu) takes place, and victory (kašādu), destruction (ina kakki maqātu). Afterwards, reconstruction happens following the correct pattern. The area is annexed to the Assyrian world by unification of language. The people are counted as Assyrians (itti nišē Aššur manû). The other is fitted into the known. The call for integration of foreigners is not new to our times! The last terrain of splitting unity into diversity is that of goods. Goods in the periphery include raw materials, materials of a lower order and worth than final products. We have already seen that the periphery is an area that is hidden and uncultivated and that contains materials that, in a way of speaking, are begging to be transported to the centre, where all the services and institutions are located. Material and ideological affluence are complementary. This means the exchanges is unequal: raw materials in exchange for order, protection,

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and justice. It is a “non-exchange, a one-way acquisition”,94 an “including in the spoils” (šallatu). It will be clear by now that Liverani’s theory is of great relevance to our investigation. He manages to lay down connections between certain topoi in the Assyrian literature and the underlying ideology. Themes that seem random at a first glance are placed in a logical and/or ideological framework. Literary characteristics and ideology turn out to have a relationship to one another. P. Garelli’s studies (1979, 1981, 1982) P. Garelli wrote three articles, reporting on his study of the epithets that the Mesopotamian kings used for themselves.95 He sees ideology as well as the most important issues encountered by these kings reflected in the epithets. The comparison of epithets also makes it possible to trace certain developments. The main focus of his first article96 is Esarhaddon, the two most important issues being the king’s claim to power over the entire world and legitimacy. On the first topic, it is striking that there exists no word for ‘emperor’ in the ancient world. Assyria’s kings remained kings, even if they were called šar kiššati, ‘king of the world’. Esarhaddon uses the following titles in a document just after his coup d’état: šarru rabû, šarru dannu, šar kiššati, šar mātAššurki, šakkanak Bābili, šar mātŠumeri u Akkadiki, šar kibrāt erbettiti (great king, strong king, king of the world, king of Assur, governor of Babylon, king of Sumer and Akkad, king of the four quarters)

The first title had been around since the fourteenth century and formed a way for the kings to acknowledge each other’s equality among themselves. The other titles reflect the prestige of the first empires of Akkad

94

Liverani, “Ideology”, 313. P. Garelli, “L’état et la légitimité royale sous l’empire Assyrien”, in: Larsen (ed.), Power and Propaganda, 319–328. “La Conception de la Royauté en Assyrie” in: F.M. Fales (ed.), Assyrian Royal Inscriptions: New Horizons in Literary, Ideological and Historical Analysis, Rome 1981, 1–11. “La propaganda royale assyrienne”, Akkadica 27 (1982), 16–29. 96 Garelli, “L’état et la légitimité royale”. 95

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and Ur and of the great Babylonian kings. The only real Assyrian title is šar kiššati “king of the world”—the title that most clearly reveals an imperial pretence. This title had already been used since Shamshi-Adad I (+1814–+1782). It is striking that the Assyrian kings only dared to adopt the title when they felt their authority gave rise to do so. The kings did not carry the title at the time of the Aramaic raids in the ninth century. Tiglat-Pileser III (745–727) was the first who apparently mustered up the courage to adopt the title again. Officially, the king’s legitimacy was founded on divine election. This becomes clear from Esarhaddon’s account. The gods chose him as rē û kēnu ‘reliable shepherd’ for his people. The word kēnu can also hold the connotation of legitimacy. The thought is clear, however: a king is legitimate in as far as he is loyal to the will of the gods. The problem of legitimacy never came to a satisfactory resolve in Assyria, causing a great deal of instability with each new ascendancy to the throne. For example, although the eldest son was the heir to throne as a rule, Esarhaddon was the youngest. Ashurbanipal, who was not the eldest either, mentions four arguments for his legitimacy: divine election, an oracle, declaration of loyalty to the parliament of the empire and eventually, divine acknowledgement in the form of prosperity in the empire. Still, Esarhaddon’s writings make clear that sizeable amount of opposition against his kingship must have existed.97 Ultimately, he had to prove his ‘legitimacy’ by means of violence: “L’argument décisif, en cas de contestation de ce genre, était donc le recours à la force, et la légitimité, de ce fait, reposait sur l’argument d’autorité.”98 It was because Esarhaddon was stronger than his brothers that his brothers went down in history as usurpators. Had the power relations been different, the titles would also have been assigned accordingly. It is striking that the expression ‘a king who trusts in his own strength’ is also used for usurpators. “Dire que l’usurpateur est un roi qui se fie à la/sa force, c’est dire qu’il est un despote.”99

97 98 99

See the paragraphs 3.5, but especially 3.6. Garelli, “L’état et la légitimité royale”, 321. Garelli, “L’état et la légitimité royale”, 322.

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The main subject of Garelli’s second article100 is the development of the epithets and the question what that development says about the underlying ideology. Throughout the different time periods, we find many similarities, but we also find differences in the specificities. A rupture seems to exist between the Ancient Babylonian period on the one hand and the Middle Babylonian and Middle Assyrian period on the other hand. In the ancient Babylonian period, a king mainly depicted himself as shepherd of his people who ensured prosperity and peace. He extinguishes fights (balû), he spares (gamālu), he does not repress ( abālu) and he makes life possible (balā u). The contrast between this situation and the Middle Assyrian period is striking. In the latter, an enormous amount of hyperboles are employed to describe the king’s megalomania: twenty-five epithets in order to render him a royal hero and fifteen to describe his capabilities in the area of war. In some cases, the epithets are literally the opposite of the Babylonian: he does not spare (lā gamālu), he curses (arāru) and he weakens (lakû) the opponent. This remarkable change reflects the rise of the military state, in Garelli’s view: “Dans l’ensemble ce tableau reflète fort bien la formation de l’Etat militaire, né des luttes contre le Mitanni et la Babylonie, durci par la résistance aux grandes invasions araméennes et dont l’expansion victorieuse procure à la fois richesse et gloire.”101 We hardly find any epithets that were adopted from the Babylonian time, save for a few very general ones (qarrādu ‘hero’, na du ‘pious, observant’). We can also observe a shift in the Middle Babylonian inscriptions. Military epithets also gain some importance in Babylonia because of the wars against Assyria and Elam, but the emphasis still lays on the economic function of the king. The difference remains of influence on the great Neo-Assyrian and the Neo-Babylonian empires, respectively:

100 101

Garelli, “La Conception de la Royauté en Assyrie”. Garelli, “La Conception de la Royauté en Assyrie”, 3.

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Neo-Assyrian epithets

Neo-Babylonian epithets

1. Legitimate descent rightful successor 2. Qualities to do with war valiant, quick as lightning, ardent, destructive 3. Physical aspects cheerful face, large in stature 4. Moral qualities wise, understanding, clairvoyant, understanding

wise, counsellor, great

5. Civil activities digging canals, lifting chores, restoring, privileges, accumulating goods, giving of donations

canals, welfare, protective arm, lover of privileges, giver of donations

6. Relationship with the gods favourite of the gods, who respects he draws up designs for temples, is their borders, subject of their election subject of election, reassures the gods, is their servant 7. Honour competent, invested with splendour

competent, unrivalled

This overview makes clear that emphasis lays on moral qualities and economic activities, even in Assyria. In that respect, Assyria underwent Babylon’s influence and reinstated the old epithets. Military epithets remain exclusively Assyrian, however. In his third article,102 Garelli goes into the question to what extent the Assyrian royal inscription can be seen as propaganda. A modern historian, who would read the official Assyrian texts, would no doubt think he had to do with propaganda. However: who was the audience and what was the occasion of such personality cult? It is remarkable that certain titles were not given as a matter of course but were appropriated by kings if they felt themselves worthy. Sennacherib only calls himself “king of the four quarters” after his sixth campaign. Actually, an interesting evolution is visible with Sennacherib. In the beginning he calls himself pāli ilāni rabūti (“he who 102

Garelli, “La propaganda royale assyrienne”.

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fears the great gods”). He only gains confidence after several successes and calls himself migir ilāni rabūti (“the favourite of the great gods”). These kinds of phenomena are interesting from the perspective of studying the royal psychology but even more interesting is the difference between the texts from Nineveh and Ashur. In Nineveh, the political centre of the region, the emphasis lies on the military superiority and the military and economic achievements. In Ashur, the city in which the cult is based, emphasis lays on the king’s religious merits, his upkeep of the temple and the cult. It is tempting to suppose the palace in Nineveh and the temple in Ashur each had their own, separate audiences. Yet this we cannot be sure of. The cylinder of Rassam was found in a wall. What does this fact tell us about the function these texts originally had? Were they used only to report to the gods? Sargon’s text on his eighth campaign is telling in this respect. The text is addressed to the main god Ashur, but it also explicitly addresses the city and its inhabitants. Oppenheim showed that the use of language seems to have been deliberately composed to influence an audience.103 He also supposed that text is a written exponent of a more widely used genre that must have featured the king delivering a spoken report to the people. It seems logical to presume that the texts were read out loud after which they were filed away in a temple or a palace, and/or bricked into a wall or a foundation. The kinds of problems that the king addressed in such texts can be categorized into internal and external problems. Externally, there was always the threat of a military humiliation. Internally, there was the possible danger of a coup, which Garelli ironically calls “une des institutions les plus stables de l’empire assyrien”.104 For example, it is striking how much importance Esarhaddon attaches to his election by the gods in his “Report to Ashur” in 673 B.C., after the capture of Shubria. He thereby definitively dealt with the last remainders of resistance against his kingship. In his capital, the king was the stadholder of the national god Ashur. His power was based on this god’s mandate. His task was to ensure that order overcame chaos. This action was an actual cosmic act of creation. Thereby, it was important to disclose in unambiguous terms that one

103 See chapter 3.6 about “Esarhaddon’s Report to Assur”, a text of a comparable genre. 104 Garelli, “La propaganda royale assyrienne”, 20.

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surpassed one’s predecessors. Because of this, the palace was basically one big piece of propaganda, aimed at ambassadors or visiting kings. In short: Garelli shows in his articles that the Mesopotamian kings initially saw themselves mainly as shepherds of their people. It was not until the fourteenth century that several peoples started to clash with each other, so that more emphasis came to lie on the military role of the king, at least in Assyria. The imperial claims become an important theme. The other side of the coin of militarization is an increase in internal instability, for a war faring king was often away and could devote less of his attention to governing itself. The propaganda acquires an internal goal: convincing the own population of the king’s legitimacy.105 Studies by R.J. van der Spek (1985, 1993) R.J. van der Spek treats the background of the Assyrian imperialism in two articles.106 In the first article, Van der Spek shows that there are parallels between Roman and Assyrian imperialism. The similarities can be found in the explanations that one can give for the rise of both empires, which are listed below. a. Forward defence. The Romans frequently justified their expansion with the statement that capturing the buffer states was a way of safeguarding their own borders. This can be said to some extent for Assyria. Assyria was made into a military state by the Arameans (who were often seen as some sort of archenemies), the Babylonians (com105

The fact that it was felt the legitimacy should be posed with so much force indicates that this legitimacy was not self-evident. This propaganda implicitly refers to the existence of an opposition. A conference was organized on this theme in 1973. The lectures of this congress have been compiled in A. Finet (ed.), La voix de l’opposition en Mésopotamie, Brussels 1973. By the way, we can also find an article by Garelli in that collection: “Les sujets du roi d’Assyrie”, 189–213. In this article, he writes that there are no indications for the existence of an opposition in the modern sense of the word. The struggles we find are always at the court and hardly even outside the court, especially not among the people. The theory that there existed a pro-Babylonian party at the time of the Sargonids is found to be implausible by Garelli. 106 R.J. van der Spek, “Het Assyrische Imperialisme: Achtergronden en verklaringen”, Phoenix 31/1 (1985), 3–19 en “Assyriology and History: A Comparative Study of War and Empire in Assyria, Athens, and Rome”, in M. Cohen and D.C. Snell (eds.), The Tablet and the Scroll: Near Eastern Studies in Honour of William W. Hallo, Bethesda Md 1993, 262–270.

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pare The Synchronistic Chronicle with all its violations of borders by Babylonians) and the well-organized empires of Urartu and later, Egypt, the latter of which was intriguing to the vassal states of Assyria (such as Judah). b. Economic interests. Assyria was especially lacking in wood and metal supply, as Assyria was just of the track of the trade route between Phoenicia and Urartu. Hence the campaigns to the Phoenician cities that involved forcing the cities to pay a tribute, but did not feature annexation of the area as a province. The Assyrians were too dependent on the Phoenicians to annex their territory. c. Internal, social motives. Although Assyria was reigned by a king rather than by an oligarchy such as in the Roman case, did this not imply the king held a more stable position. “The power of the king may have been absolute, but the king had to continuously prove his legitimacy, which was not seen as self-evident in any way.”107 Like the authors we discussed before, Van der Spek illustrates his statement with the example of the restless period at the time of the Sargonids, when almost every accession was accompanied by a coup. “Assyrian kings indeed felt a need for legitimacy. They obtained this legitimacy by appealing to the gods but especially by means of military success.”108 In the second article, Van der Spek goes into some more detail concerning the justification given by the Assyrian kings for war. Even though we might think that economic motives were the most important ones, the rationalizations generally given were of ideological nature. According to Van der Spek, this does not imply that the Assyrians imposed their religion on the conquered peoples. This point of view is defended by some, but the available evidence is meagre. To the contrary, the Assyrians call upon the gods of the conquered peoples. The correctness of war as a means to achieve a certain goal was never called into question. On the contrary, the kings had to justify their goal, although ultimately, one goal was decisive: “In the endless reports on wars the Assyrian kings only needed one justification: the command of the gods. The Assyrian domination is sanctioned by the gods, and thus the opposition to the subjugation is a sin [. . .] The loyalty of the vassal king was ascertained by an oath of allegiance sworn

107 108

Van der Spek, “Het Assyrische Imperialisme”, 15. Van der Spek, “Het Assyrische Imperialisme”, 17.

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by the gods of Assyria and the gods of the vassal king.”109 Vassals were thus bound to their oath and disloyalty was religiously interpreted as ‘sin’. The king was equally bound to this code. We can derive this from the investigation commanded by Sennacherib into ‘Sargon’s sin’.110 In the investigation, it is hinted that Sargon broke an oath. It was extra difficult for an Assyrian king to justify a war against Babylon or against a loyal vassal: “The Assyrian king needed justification for individual wars. We know from the royal inscriptions as well as from direct evidence that the Assyrian kings asked permission from the gods for individual campaigns. In principle an Assyrian king could not fight against another state if that state had a treaty and abided by it. Thus if the Assyrian king wanted to attack, he had at least to prove that the treaty was first broken by the opponent. But the option of war as such was never questioned in principle. This is borne out by the ancient religion as well.”111 W. Röllig, “Assur —Geißel der Völker: Zur Typologie aggressiver Gesellschaften” (1986) W. Röllig sums up a few observations in his article. Partially, they are in agreement with the findings we just derived from earlier studies. For the other part, they add interesting new aspects to those earlier studies.112 He starts by stating that Assyria is described as a very belligerent nation throughout the ancient world, for example by Isaiah. Moreover, in his view the Assyrians did everything to establish this image through their inscriptions and bas reliefs. Röllig distinguishes four motivations for war, two of which we have seen before with Van der Spek and others and two of which are new. The two motivations we already saw are: a. Defence of the borders. The Assyrian agricultural area was located such that it lay open to plundering of food by nomads and groups from the desert or the mountains. It is also not a coincidence that the Middle Assyrian empire arises after the rise of the Hurritic power in the North. However, protection of borders easily transforms

109

Van der Spek, “Assyriology and History”, 265. See also chapter 3.4. 111 Van der Spek, “Assyriology and History”, 266. 112 W. Röllig, “Assur—Geißel der Völker: Zur Typologie aggressiver Gesellschaften”, Saeculum 37 (1986), 116–128. 110

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into a desire for expansion. Campaigns to Cilicia, Palestina and Egypt cannot be justified as self defence. b. Economic motives are also mentioned by Röllig. One can derive that economic interests played a large role from the reports about plundering and deportation. As an aside, deportations were an invention by Assyria. Assyria and Babylonia may have been rich in agricultural products, but this was not true for raw materials. They had to trade in order to obtain textiles, metal and wood. It is plausible that this trade, which flourished until 1700, collapsed because of the arrival of the Hurrites. This threat leads to the switch from an peoples army to a professional army. This change offered many benefits, but it also came with one major disadvantage: it had to be paid for. This resulted in a vicious circle: the army was put into place in order to obtain certain elementary economic goods, but the army itself used up a large part of those goods. In this manner, the borders had to be extended even further: “Die sinnlose Schraube des Rüstungswettlaufs drehte sich auch hier bereits.”113 The goal of the deportations was to prevent revolts as well as to provide cheap labour. On the other hand, this mechanism affected the economic structure of the subjected province and thereby the payment of the tribute. Moreover, the Assyrian economy was paralyzed by the large inflow of goods and slaves, the price of which became ridiculously low at times. These factors should also be seen as the source of Assyria’s rapid decay in 614–612 B.C. Röllig does not mention the grounds of Assyria’s inner instability. Instead, he mentions two other motivations for war. c. The religious motivation: “On Ashur’s command”. This is remarkable, because Ashur initially was the supreme god and the god of justice, but not a war god. Ishtar, on the other hand, resembles a war goddess more closely “without whom neither war nor peace can come to pass in the country” (Nabonidus). Nonetheless, the justification of war is often related to Ashur, seeing that a crime against the state is also a crime against the official god of state.114

113 114

Röllig, “Assur—Geißel der Völker”, 125. Röllig, “Assur—Geißel der Völker”, 121.

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Another motivation associated with Ashur was the claim to absolute monarchy, although Röllig does not think that we can speak of religious imperialism.115 d. A fourth motivation mentioned by Röllig, is the wish for immortality, the motive of the ‘remembrance of the name’ (zakār šumi). This motive is the connection between the building activities and the war faring activities of the king.116 A somewhat curious remark by Röllig is his statement that Assyria attempted to bring about deterrence with its aggressive image. This view seems to more closely reflect the Cold War period, during which the author wrote the article, than the ancient period that he describes. “Einerseits war es also eine Verherrlichung der Taten eines Herrschers, andererseits eine Art von Anti-Kriegs-Propaganda, die hier versucht wurde.”117 The invention of the balance of terror as the Assyrian contribution to world peace.

115 Röllig, “Assur—Geißel der Völker”, 122: “Auch die Vorstellung vom ‘Heiligen Krieg’, selbst dem Alten Testament entgegen älterer Anschauung wohl nicht eigen, allerdings heute wieder virulent, scheint Assyrien fremd gewesen zu sein. Wenn der Krieg auf Geheiss und mit Unterstützung der Götter geführt wird, dann trotzdem ohne religiöse Unterwerfungsideologie. Wohl aber kann nicht bestritten werden, dass das bequeme Mäntelchen der göttlichen Interessen an einem Feldzug, an der Unterwerfung fremder Länder gern angezogen wurde [. . .] Immerhin ist wichtig festzuhalten, dass die religiöse Motivation zum Kriege eine nicht geringe Rolle spielte und wohl auch im Innern, gegenüber der eigenen Bevölkerung und gegenüber den Soldaten, besonders wichtig war.” 116 Röllig, “Assur—Geißel der Völker”, 122–123: “Eine weitere Motivation für das Führen eines Angriffskrieges liegt in dem, was der Annalen-Text Assurnasirpals beschreibt: Das Aufstellen von Stelen des Eroberers und der Bericht ‘über meinen Ruhm und meine Macht.’ Man sollte dieses Motiv nicht unterschätzen: Es ist im Geschichtsverständnis des Alten Orients seit alters so, dass das Nachleben des Mannes— und natürlicht vor allem des Königs—nur durch seine Taten gesichtert ist. Taten aber sind vor allem beim Kult—hier der Bau von neuen Heiligtümern, Festsetzung von besondern Opfern, Festschreiben von Privilegien—zu erwarten—und im Krieg. Es ist wohl kein Zufall, dass Baubericht und Kriegsbericht so eng miteinander verflochten sind. Beides sind Mitteilungen über besondere Taten des Herrschers, die ihm Ruhm in Ewigkeit verheissen. Deshalb auch wacht er eifersüchtig darüber, dass seine eigenen Bauurkunden nicht vernichtet werden, dass alle Denkmäler seiner Vorgänger sorgfältig konserviert und weitertradiert werden.” 117 Röllig, “Assur—Geißel der Völker”, 123.

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B. Oded, War, Peace and Empire: Justification for War in Assyrian Royal Inscriptions (1992) A particularly systematic study on the various justifications of war in Assyria by B. Oded appeared in 1992.118 His study can be viewed as a history of mentalities. He examines the reasons brought forward by the Assyrians themselves for their wars. To this end, he looks at royal inscriptions, which means: the official royal standpoint. These always concern post factum-justifications, pretexts rather than the real motives. Like the authors we discussed above, Oded finds a consensus that the real grounds can be found in three factors: the economy, safety and the king’s aspirations. However, these grounds are never officially stated. In the end, Oded distinguishes between no less than twelve official justifications for waging war. (1) Divine command The first justification is that war is unleashed upon godly command: ina qibīt name of god (variations z/siqri, amāt, pî). The godly command is passed on through oracles (têrtum), divination (bīru) or omina (iškar tā āzī ). The underlying ideology is that the divinity stands at the head of the social hierarchy. The divinity has the power to declare war. The king is only his viceroy (iššiak Aššur) and high priest (šangû ellu). He is the weapon in the hands of the gods (kašūš ilāni rabûti).119 The king was accountable to the gods and not to his people. In the Assyrian world, we do not observe the phenomenon of the people authorizing a war, which we see in the Roman Empire. The custom of writing a ‘Letter to the god’ could also be explained as based on the underlying view that the king had only to justify himself before the divinity. The prospect of victory is inherent to the godly command. The gods encourage the kings, for example by means of oracles. The king acts, trusting in Ashur, whereas the kings of the enemy “trust in themselves”. The usual formulas to this end are: lā tapalla (“fear not”), ina tukulti god’s name (‘trusting in /with the help of god’s name’).

118

B. Oded, War, Peace and Empire: Justification for War in Assyrian Royal Inscriptions, Wiesbaden 1992. 119 Compare Is. 10:5, in which Ashur is mentioned as a nation “the staff of my fury” (‫)שׁבט אפי‬.

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(2) Punishing criminals The enemy’s crimes, real or alleged, can form a justification of war. For the king was appointed to ensure justice. Shamash especially, is the impartial judge of the deeds committed by humans, but Ashurnasirpal II calls Ishtar ‘she who loves justice’ and Esarhaddon ‘Ashur the king of the gods and the merciful Marduk, who despises evil deeds.’ Ashurbanipal appeals to ‘Ashur, Bel, Nabu and Nergal’. Kittu u mēšaru (‘truth and justice’ or ‘law and order’) are the foundations of the orderly world. The king exhaustively sums up his own moral qualities, while the enemy is evil by definition. “This comports well with the dualistic nature of any overly polarized ‘ideological outlook’, opposing the good ‘we’ to the evil ‘they’, and with the ‘fundamentally binary’ pattern in the ARI [= Assyrian Royal Inscriptions].”120 The Assyrian king is the nūr kiššat nišē ‘the light of all people’, the ra im mēšari ‘who loves justice’, the defender of the weak and so on. The king holds the ‘just sceptre’ a u išari. The enemies, on the contrary, are ‘murderers, liars, illegal and unjust individuals’. Defending his country against outside threats was not the king’s only task; he was also to maintain justice. As the ideal king, he received wisdom from the gods to this end. Seeing that he was the ‘king of kings’ and the ‘king of the universe’, it was seen as only logical that he also had the task of maintaining justice elsewhere. War was a means to meet this goal. The Assyrian king saw himself as the police officer of the world. War acquired a legal meaning in this context: in the Ancient Near Eastern perception, the outcome had to coincide with the god’s verdict, with the execution of the punishment. (3) A response to enmities Throughout the ages, the argument for war that has probably been used most often is self defence, and this was no different with the Assyrian kings: “The most common casus belli mentioned by the Assyrians is the

120 Oded, War, Peace and Empire, 30. On p. 36 he adds an observation that is interesting for our research: “Comparing the phrases attributed to the Assyrian king with those applied to the enemy king, we find a clear antipodal symmetry. The righteous one is the hero, who signifies absolute good as opposed to the wicked antihero, ‘who had no understanding or sense.’ A stereotype of the enemy, clearly presented as a foil for the Assyrian king, is thereby created. The unfavourable traits and the inexpiable sins that have been defiantly ascribed to him justify waging war against him by the meritorious Assyrian king, ‘who is aflamed against the wicked and the evil’ ”.

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aggression of their enemies. The latter plot evil in their hearts (libbašunu ikpudu lemuttu) against Assyria, and leave the Assyrian king no option but to resort to armed violence.”121 And like everywhere and always, the concept ‘defensive’ was stretchable: conspiracy, bribe, deception and granting asylum to political refugees could all be seen as an enmity by the Assyrian kings and could therefore lead to war. (4) Coming to the aid of an ally A method that would frequently be employed in the Roman Empire, was also known to the Assyrians—the method of coming to the aid of an ally. “The policy of expansion under the guise of defending an ally is one of the most prominent features in the policy of ambitious states striving to establish an empire.”122 In the prologues of vassal treaties, references are often made to help given by the suzerain, in order to justify dependency in the suzerain and increase loyalty to him. In this way, the Assyrian kings systematically enlarged their empire by ‘coming to the aid’ (ālik tappût) of allies (ardāni ‘vassals’, who ardūtu epēšu ‘showed subservience’), if these were (actually or allegedly) attacked. The Assyrian king is the bēl kitri ‘lord of the alliance’, ēpiš usâti ‘giver of aid’. The opponent is a kitru lā mušēzib ‘an ally that does not save’. (5) Usurpation Seeing that kingship takes such a central stage in the Assyrian society, it is no wonder that the dynastic principle and descent were considered important. Usurpation, therefore, meant more than seizing power. Usurpation is the violation of the dynastic principle. Power is seized by a mār lā mamman ‘a son of nobody’. In the royal inscriptions this act is a legitimate casus belli. For example, Shalmaneser attacked Aram, because Hazael had seized power in that area. Sennacherib removes Sidqa of Ashkalon again and reinstalls Sharru-Ludaru, “their earlier king”. Descent was also an important topic in the royal inscriptions, especially since the time of Tiglat-Pileser III. In theory, descent went uninterrupted throughout all of history. In practice, things were different as most kings who advanced usurpation as the casus belli were not 121

Oded, War, Peace and Empire, 45. Oded, War, Peace and Empire, 61. Oded chose an appropriate quote above from Cicero’s De republica for this chapter: “Our people has now gained power over the whole world by defending its allies.” 122

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the crown prince themselves. Moreover, they had a tendency to install kings without any antecedents in the vassal states. One could do this, because divine election was ultimately more important than descent. Usurpators, especially, tried to trace their legitimacy back to a godly decision, that was often obtained by divination (ina bīri). Sargon II (šarru kēnu = the king is legitimate), for example, brings forward the argument that the kings who preceded him had sinned, as had Esarhaddon, who called his brother usurpator without scruples. “Legitimacy of succession is thus based on two factors: (1) the royal descent of the heir (the dynastic principle) and (2) divine election and authorization (the principle of divine legitimacy). The second principle is indispensable. The first (lineage and hereditary legitimation) is not valid without the second, which can terminate the rights of the ‘biological’ or first born heir, and can even constitute the sole basis for legitimacy.”123 Divine election thus forms the link between the theme ‘usurpation’ and the war: just as the legitimacy of the Assyrian king depended on the gods, the vassal depended on the Assyrian king as the šar šarrāni, ‘king of kings’. He who opposed the ‘legitimate’ king, opposed the Assyrian king and thereby the gods.124 (6) Violation of an oath Violating an oath is a casus belli. Expressions for this act include: māmītu (sworn oath, generally translated as a ‘treaty oath’) or an adû (generally translated as an ‘loyalty oath’). Assyria arranged its foreign policy by means of such treaties, which more closely resembled a one-sided obligation than a true two-sided treaty in practice. Termini technici for these vassal treaties are: iša abšāni ‘he pulled my yoke’ and epēš ardūtu ‘showing subservience’. The ideology behind the above was: breaking an oath was not just an offence in itself, but a sacrilege with respect to the gods on whose name the oath had been sworn. Not observing a sworn oath inevitably lead to a curse. Consider Ezekiel 17:15: “Will he break the treaty and yet escape?”—reflecting the belief that the divine guarantee of the oath will punish the sinner. Hence the double meaning of māmītu: oath and

123

Oded, War, Peace and Empire, 79. Against this background, it is understandable that emphasis in inscriptions by usurpators lies on divine elections, such as in the case of Zakkur. See chapter 3.3. 124

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curse. The king, as viceroy of the gods, was therefore bound to declare war, executing the curse. (7) Repressing a revolt Subjected monarchs, who attempted to cast of the yoke or who provoked the Assyrian authority in another way, could expect a reaction. This motive is related to the last one, but there is a difference in emphasis in that it concerns rebellion rather the oath. Nonetheless, the two justifications are closely connected, for a treaty also contained the obligation to refrain from rebellion and the obligation to continue payments to Assyria. (8) Bringing peace and order A king’s true mission was to bring peace and order in his country. “The ideal king is he who brings prosperity (šummu u, u du) to his subjects, in whose time justice, order, peace and abundance (nu šu, egallu, i bu) prevail, in contrast to ešâtu, dal ātu, sī u and ša mašātu = disorder, troubles, revolts and chaos.125 The ideal king is he who has everything under control. A prayer to a priest intended for the end of a crowning ceremony or an Akitu festival read: “Expand your land with your just sceptre (ešarte a ika), may Ashur grant obedience (šemû) to you when you give orders, justice (kittu) and peace (salīmu).”126 The Assyrian king was an essential part of the cosmic order. His wars were a battle against the powers of evil and chaos. He was a benefactor, a nūr kiššat nišē; nūr kibrāti, ‘light of all people, light of the world’. According to the royal inscriptions, the Assyrian king often stood in contrast with the kings of the subjected peoples, who supposedly did not take good care of their own people. Babylon was destroyed and inundated by Sennacherib because injustice and the dishonouring of parents had set the tone in the city according to Esarhaddon. Sennacherib had punished the city and had thereby restored peace and order. So war serves a humanitarian goal in this reading. The ideology behind this view speaks of the Assyrian king as a creator of order: “The Assyrian king generates confidence since his military exploits parallel the primordial mythological battle of Marduk. Just as

125 126

Oded, War, Peace and Empire, 101. Oded, War, Peace and Empire, 101.

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the victory of Marduk, the king of the gods, over Tiamat, the primeval monster, ensured the perpetuity of the cosmic order which had been in danger, so the ‘pacifist’ Assyrian king takes the risk of doing battle against the dangerous and destructive enemy who endangers the common good because of his evil nature.”127 Sennacherib explicitly makes this connection, when he has the myth of Marduk and Tiamat inscribed on the bronze doors of the Bit-Akitu. The most succinct expression of the care of the gods through the king can be found in the image of a shepherd. This metaphor can already be found in the old Sumerian kings list. Almost every king used the list, even Ashurnasirpal II (883–859), infamous for his cruelty. (9) Punishment of those who sin against the gods Wars were also justified as a punishment for sinning against the gods. This is based on the theological idea that a causal relationship exists between a person’s situation in life and the nature of his comportment with respect to the gods and other people. Insulting the gods, destroying a sanctuary and similar sins bring punishment and misfortune to a person. Once again, the king, as the loyal servant of the gods, is the preeminent instrument of divine punishment. There are numerous examples of heretic deeds as a reason for war in the royal inscriptions: destroying a temple, holding contempt for the god Ashur, opening the treasure of the Esagila, using it for bribes and expressing blasphemy. So, the war was always waged against the enemy of the gods in some way. He who has sinned, is the nizirti, the one hated by the gods, while the king is the narām, the beloved of the god or even ša ina ilāni gērûša lā īšû ‘he who has no enemies among the gods’. Adversity and misfortune were seen as the result of divine revenge, while victory was seen as reward for pious deeds. This, in any case, is the basic thought in the Weidner Chronicle (halfway through the second millennium): doom befell the kings that did not respect the temples of Babylon and Marduk. “The rule is: piety brings victory; impiety brings defeat and distress. The enemy is criticized for being self-confident and forgetting the superior might of the gods.”128

127 128

Oded, War, Peace and Empire, 111. Oded, War, Peace and Empire, 126.

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The motive that the gods can be angry and can leave their own temple already appears as of Akkad’s curse (19th century):129 “Sometimes the gods express their anger [. . .] by abandoning their native sanctuaries, deserting their homeland, inflicting calamities and consigning their people to a foreign force. The belief is that the god’s absence brings disaster.”130 The positive side of this is that the kings exhaustively describe how pious they are and how loyal in bringing offerings. Esarhaddon has himself portrayed while in prayer. Shalmaneser III is a pleasure to the hearts of the gods (mu īb libbi) and brightens them up (mušpardû). As high priest, the king also had the task to build temples and repair them: Sennacherib did it with the Bit-Akitu, Esarhaddon with the Esagila, Assurbanipal with the Ehulhul. For that matter, Oded says, one should understand that the religious justifications of the war do not make this war a religious war. The war has nothing to do with a collision of the two religions, but with sacrilege. He who did not honour the Assyrian god was not seen as unbelieving, but rather: he who behaved in a hostile manner towards Assyria was seen as a sinner. “By presenting avowedly religious reason for going to war the Assyrians could turn their arrogance into humility, their plunder into an act of piety.”131 (10) Reprisal Oded mentions reprisal as a justification for war. The difference with the reasons he mentioned before (2, 3, 4, 6 en 7) does not seem very clear. He mentions the examples of a vendetta (the murder on an ally that requires blood feud) and punishing disloyal and ungrateful vassals. “In several cases revenge and retribution ( gimilla turru) are given as the professed reason for war. The right of reprisal was a widely-held principle and justified a military campaign.”132

129 Zie o.a. M. Cogan, Imperialism and Religion (SBL Monograph Series 19), Missoula 1974, 9–21. 130 Oded, War, Peace and Empire, 126. 131 Oded, War, Peace and Empire, 136. 132 Oded, War, Peace and Empire, 139.

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(11) Demonstration of strength and power Violation and war are part of an empire. The Assyrian empire was founded on strength (emûqu). It retained control by means of merciless oppression and sharp surveillance via a well-organised administration. A king’s power included an aspect of rivalry: he had to prove to be the ‘king of kings’. We frequently encounter the formula mā iru lā īšû ‘there is no rival’. Success in battle is the most glorious achievement. The kings like to call themselves lē û qabli ‘expert in battle’. A competitive element was thus part of the battle and given this fact it is understandable that hunting and fighting were seen as naturally related to each other. Both fighting and hunting scenes are depicted on the walls of the palaces. Both show the qarrādūtu, the heroism of the king. War, like the hunt, was seen as a game. . In order to underline the extent to which a king went unequalled (šarru lā šanān ‘a king with no equal’, šaninšu lā īšû ‘an equal—literally “second”—he has not’), the enemy was depicted as terrifically dangerous, and the mountainous areas in which he lives as extremely inhospitable. Thus, Esarhaddon’s rule is namrirrū ‘awe-inspiring’. The wish to gain a reputation of power and glory as a reason for war is communicated in several literary ways (although the wish is never mentioned as such): a) titles and epithets b) images, metaphors, hyperboles and parables of self admiration c) stereotypical heroic and extraordinary qualities d) images, reliefs, monuments and inscriptions (12) World dominion The Assyrian kings claimed control of ‘the four quarters’; they claimed world hegemony (kiššūtu). This claim can be found mainly in the epithets. The outside world was divided into two categories: people under control of Assyria and enemies. Extending Assyria’s hegemony was a justified casus belli in itself. What was the ideology behind this? First of all, there was the hierarchical view of the world. In this image, someone had to be at the top. And the gods happened to have handed the sceptre to the kings of Assyria. “When the Assyrian kings enunciated that they have expanded the land of Assyria (urappiš mātija) it means that they have realized the divine mission to subject the lands. It is the order of the gods (especially

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the god Ashur) and their wish (biblāt libbī ) that the king of Assyria govern the entire world, and all kings be under his sovereignty [. . .] Since the Assyrian king was the viceroy of the gods, their earthly representative, extending the borders of Assyria was equivalent to extending the domains of the gods. To subject a land was to subject it to Ashur.”133 So imperialism was not a purely political thought but a mission. War was the means by which Assyria wanted to unite the world and lead it to a golden age. Hence the comment about the many friendly greetings sent to the king by the vassals. Nabonidus’ inscription as well as Isaiah’s prophecies show that the subjected people had a different experience of the events. On the contrary, the peoples greatly rejoiced in the fall of Assyria, see Zephaniah and Nahum. Summarizing, Oded states that war itself was never seen as an issue in the Assyrian royal inscriptions. War is not the opposite of peace, but it is an essential means to create safety and order. “The antithesis is between order and chaos, not between war and peace. Chaos is the opposite of order and peace. The enemy belongs to the chaotic forces. He is wicked by nature (Chapter II), he has sinned against the land of Assyria (Chapter III), against the gods (Chapter IX), and against his own people and mankind (Chapter VII). As such he has endangered the welfare of mankind and threatened to overwhelm the natural order. He must be either subjugated or eliminated; this can be achieved only by war. The Assyrian king, therefore, has preserved peace and restored order by warfare conducted in the name of the deity (Chapter I). War was regarded as a lawsuit (Chapter II) and a step toward the righteous goal of bringing all the nations into the orbit of the healing and benevolent power of the Assyrian king, the king of the world (Chapter X).”134 According to Oded, there was never any diachronic development in the conceptions of war. Finally, he draws a few conclusions on the historiography of ancient Assyria: “Not only the king’s wish to boast of his great achievements and the aim to preserve selected events for the sake of posterity motivated historiographic writing; justification and propaganda also played a preponderant role. The exact historical events are of no account.

133 134

Oded, War, Peace and Empire, 171–172. Oded, War, Peace and Empire, 186–187.

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Important are the command of the god, the cause, the royal feats and the enemy defeat. The primary end was to demonstrate that the king had successfully executed his divinely ordained mandate and imperial mission.”135 The justification advanced for the waging of war should therefore not be seen as historically reliable: “The professed reasons for going to war are so highly stereotyped and repetitious that they may be assumed to be ‘canonical’. In many cases they could have been written by a scribe who had no knowledge of the precise and real reasons for the conflict.”136 Evaluation On the whole, it is striking that there is more agreement among Assyriologists regarding war in Ancient Assyria than there is among theologians of the Old Testament regarding war in Ancient Israel. Concerning the question why Assyria developed into a military state, there seems to be a consensus on three main grounds: an economic, a military and a personal-psychological one. There also seems to be a unanimous conclusion that the official justifications did not coincide with these motives. Liverani concentrated on the economic motives and showed the large extent to which the ideology actually had as its function to conceal the real grounds for war. The ideology was aimed to motivate people to act against their own interest. The ideology separated the unity of persons, places and goods into a so-called natural diversity, so as to make it seem natural that a transfer took place from the periphery to the centre. Oded drew up an inventory of the official justifications and identified twelve types. It is relevant to note that war was never seen as a problem in the Assyrian world; rather, it was seen as a completely legitimate political means to achieve certain goals. And the goals to achieve were also legitimate, either because the divinity had given orders to do so, or because the enemy’s behaviour had invoked it. The vision held by the Assyrian kings had an underlying mission. As viceroys of the gods, they were cooperating in the creation of the cosmos by fighting the powers of chaos.

135 136

Oded, War, Peace and Empire, 188. Oded, War, Peace and Empire, 189.

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There is some discussion on the extent of internal opposition that existed in Assyria.137 In other words, at whom was the propaganda aimed? The amount of energy that was put into justifying the war suggests that justification was necessary. At the same time, the facts seem to indicate that the propaganda activities were mainly aimed at the enemies and the subjected peoples. The bas reliefs were seen by the kings and their envoys as they were waiting for an audience with the king of Assyria.138 Little traces have been found of internal opposition. The few indications of opposition that have been found, such as the ones from Esarhaddon’s time, speak of factions at the court. Ascension often went hand in hand with periods of political instability. The image just sketched raises questions when we return to consider the Old Testament against this background. What was the role of God in warfare in Israel? And how about the position of the king? Is he also a vicarius dei in the Old Testament, God’s viceroy? The unique aspect of the Old Testament seems to be that a lot is known about the opposition. What is more: the biblical texts more closely resemble texts by the opposition than by the court. So the question is: what is the position of God or the gods and what is the position of the king in the war stories? Which personages can further be pointed out and which role do they play? And what does this say about the ideology of the text? 1.3.3. A Comparison between Ancient Israel and the Ancient Near East Von Rad had described the holy war in ancient Israel; and although he never explicitly writes that his ‘institution of the holy war’ is typically Israelite, the theory naturally raised the question—of what nature is the relationship between Israel and the Ancient Near Eastern customs and ideologies of war? Was the war embedded in cultic customs in this culture too? How where the gods involved in the battle? In this

137

See A. Finet (ed.), La voix de l’opposition. See J. Reade, “Ideology and Propaganda in Assyrian Art”, in: Larsen (ed.), Power and Propaganda, 329–337, I.J. Winter, “Royal Rhetoric and the Development of Historical Narrative in Neo-Assyrian Reliefs”, Studies in Visual Communication 7 (1981), 2–38, en H. Shanks, “Destruction of Judean fortress portrayed in dramatic 8th century BC pictures”, BAR 10/2 (1984), 48–65, for beautiful reconstructions that make use of maps that for example show the effect that the relief on the capture of Lachish must have had on the waiting visitors of the king. 138

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paragraph we shall discuss a number of publications in which the researchers made these comparisons. M. Smith, “The Common Theology of the Ancient Near East” (1952) An interesting article by Smith was published at approximately the same time as Von Rad’s study.139 In this article, he spoke of a “common Ancient Near Eastern theology”. He believed that in comparing different cultures and text corpora, one should not think in terms of dependency too easily: “The fifteenth-century mysteries are much closer in time to the deists than Ugaritic literature is to Isaiah, let alone to Jeremiah or Deuteronomy.”140 Nonetheless, he says, both the mysteries and the deists share the same background, the same Bible, the same images. The same is true for the Old Testament and the Near Eastern context. They share the same common theology and it is easier to identify specific characteristics against the background of that shared theology. He then describes his vision of the common Ancient Near Eastern theology. As a rule, a person worships one god. The mythology may speak of multiple gods—it is hard to establish a mythology with only one god—but in practice, it is one god who is worshipped. There are no qualms about calling this god the “greatest of the gods”, regardless his position in the pantheon. The phrase is used out of politeness: you would also call a boss the ‘greatest of the great’. The custom is often related to local patriotism: ‘our god is the greatest’. “His activity is by no means limited to his own land; he regularly discomfits foreign enemies in their own territories, makes over foreign lands to his own worshippers, or gives other lands (or even the lands of his own worshipers) in the hands of foreign rulers.”141 He is often compared to the most noticeable image of the given culture: sun, father, king, bull. The human king is his son, his servant, his beloved, the one he protects. He also protects ordinary people; he heals the ill, cleanses sins, and consoles the sad. As a father and a king he is both just and merciful, he inspires both awe and love. His justice is expressed in the cult and in the laws he issued or has the king issue for him. The laws of the cult prescribe 139 M. Smith, “The Common Theology of the Ancient Near East”, JBL 71 (1952), 135–147. 140 Smith, “Common Theology”, 135. 141 Smith, “Common Theology”, 140–141.

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offerings under the supervision of priests. Offers often exhibit remarkable similarities between different countries. We find do ut des and do ut abeas everywhere. Likewise, it is logical that everywhere, people stand up who think that it is better not to sin than to bring an offering, or who think that the offering of an unjust person is of no worth. These people, who, in psychological terms, are best described as scrupulous or compulsive, claim that one should try and surpass the law in the matter of being just. As a result of the contractual nature of the relation between the divinity and the people, people have always held an interest in prophets, individuals that claimed to have access to certain knowledge through revelations. Prophets were forever predicting change, because change is news and prophets were the news agents of the ancient time. Now the punishment of a society has to be effected by drought or flood, famine, pestilence, internal discord, or defeat by an enemy. Therefore the prophets everywhere ring the changes on these five themes, supplement them by threats of miracles—usually earthquakes and eclipses—and sometimes even foretell that if the people continue in their wickedness their god will utterly destroy them.142

People were thus never monotheological in the sense that they believed that only one god existed. The national god, however, was the most important one and his power tended to increase. Every war was a trial of strength, not just between two people but between two gods: As to power, the attribute of the god of Israel was merely that of the major god of any ancient near-eastern people, viz., to be greater than the gods of their neighbors. Thus when he gave them Canaan he was greater than the gods of the hill cities, when they fought the Philistines he was greater than Dagon, when they were established as a kingdom he was greater than the gods of the adjacent kingdoms, and when they were scattered in a diaspora from one end of the known world to the other, what was left for him but monotheism?143

M. Weippert, “ ‘Heiliger Krieg’ in Israel und Assyrien” (1972)144 Weippert’s “Kritische Anmerkungen” on Von Rad’s theory were as talked-about as the original document, the full title of the article being:

142 143 144

Smith, “Common Theology”, 145. Smith, “Common Theology”, 147. Weippert, “Heiliger Krieg”.

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“ ‘Heiliger Krieg’ in Israel und Assyrien: Kritische Anmerkungen zu Gerhard von Rads Konzept des ‘Heiligen Krieges im alten Israel’ ”. Weippert concentrates on three elements in Von Rad’s theory. First of all, he analyzes the cultic elements in which the holy war was embedded and, secondly, the thought that it is YHWH who fights for his people, implying that the important thing for Israel is not to fear and have faith instead. Thirdly, he discusses Von Rad’s statement that the holy war was a defensive war that was waged by the amfictyony, instigated by a charismatic. Weippert researches a number of Assyrian texts from the first millennium in his article, which are thus contemporary to the biblical texts for a large part. Weippert shows that enquiries are made about the will of the gods in these extrabiblical texts, too. The oracles are often comparable to the Bible in that they give a clue to commence or not commence the battle and moreover include a promise of godly assistance. Although the level of organization in ancient Mesopotamia was soon high enough for the kings to have professional armies, a large part of the army was still summoned from the ordinary people during times of emergency. In one text, we can even find the equivalent of Saul’s symbolic act of sending around pieces of meat. Promises to ensure the support of the gods have also been identified. We do not see the ban in Assyria, but it is mentioned in the stone of Mesha. There are examples of ritual cleansing of soldiers. In short: all cultic elements mentioned by Von Rad were also known in the ancient East. The second element is also a well-known topos in the Ancient Near Eastern world—the idea that it is the god who is fighting and that the people therefore hardly have to fight; they simply need to have faith, to not be afraid. The expression ‘fear not’ (lā tapalla ) appears in many oracles of encouragement. In royal inscriptions, we often find the turn of phrase that the enemy lost heart ‘out of fear of the splendor of Ashur, my Lord”. A beautiful, almost biblical-seeming hymn from Ashurbanipal to Ishtar, is: Not by my strength, not by the strength of my bow— by the strength of my gods, by the strength of my goddesses I made the people bow under Ashur’s yoke.145

145

Weippert, “Heiliger Krieg”, 483.

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On the third point, Weippert finds another similarity between the Old Testament and the extrabiblical literature, as no distinction is made between defensive and offensive wars in either of the text corpora. The Neo-Assyrian kings often describe the wars that they wage as a reaction to a breach of their rights, hence as defensive wars.146 Weipperts hence concludes: Es hat sich gezeigt, dass der Heilige Krieg nicht nur in Gemeinschaft mit Jahwe, den Gott Israels, möglich gewesen ist; wer also von ‘Jahwekrieg’ spricht, muss ebenso von ‘Assurkrieg’ oder ‘Ištarkrieg’ reden, und man braucht nur an die homerischen Epen oder römische Kriegspraktiken zu denken, um noch weitere Termini dieser Art hinzubilden zu können. In Wirklichkeit reden wir hier von gemeinaltorientalischer, ja gemeinantiker Kriegspraxis und -ideologie.147

P.D. Miller, The Divine Warrior in Early Israel (1973) Miller’s monography, The Divine Warrior in Early Israel, came to us from an entirely different tradition in 1973. This study stood entirely in the tradition of the American tradition-critical school that based itself on the assumption that the oldest tradition in the Old Testament was epic. This standpoint is coherent with another one: one has the tendency to look to information about Canaanite and Ugaritic cultures to fill in the blanks of the theological-historical background of the Old Testament. In summary, Miller’s reconstruction is the following. The distinctive feature of the Old Testament is the fusion of two traditions, the nomadic tradition of the ‘god of the fathers’ and the Canaanite tradition of Baal and, especially, El: “In the origins of Yahwism and the worship of Yahweh in Israel two strains merged in the deity Yahweh, the tutelary clan deity, the god of the fathers; and the high god El, the creator of heaven and earth. One may now note in the light of the work of Alt, Cross, and others on the development of this phenomenon and in view of the detailed analysis in the preceding pages that the combination of Israel’s institutional conceptions of holy war with the more mythological notions of cosmic warfare may have arisen from 146 One can pose the question as to the extent to which this is always true. The bottleneck of the theory of the just war is that everyone considers their own war as just and will always find the justification in having been wronged. In other words, everyone will consider their own war as defensive. This question is more of an ethical than of a exegetical nature and is therefore beyond the scope of this study. 147 Weippert, “Heiliger Krieg”, 485.

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the early fusion of the patriarchal tribal god who covenanted with the tribe(s) and led them in battle with the high creator god who created and led the cosmic armies to war.”148 While mythical and historic aspects generally remained separate in the Ancient Near East, these two lines are hypothesized to come together in Israel. A mythical tradition surrounding the battle of the divinity against the sea could be tied into a ‘historic’ event such as the exodus through the Red Sea. Miller’s interest mainly concerns the tradition surrounding El and Baal. The patriarchs are hardly mentioned except on the last few pages. Within those traditions, Miller is confronted with the problem that the Old Testament gives us the impression that the ancient Israelites had fewer difficulties with El than they had with Baal. In the Ugaritic material, however, the best description of the division of roles is that Baal is seen as the divine warrior and El as the typical supreme god and creator. In the Ugaritic epics, El is a somewhat dim figure who rules the world from a distance and worries about the high flight that the career of the ‘young god’ Baal has taken. Miller tries to explain this situation. Firsts of all, the Ugaritic material is probably of a one-sided nature. With Philo of Byblos, El also has characteristics of a war god. Moreover, a supreme god without an army is hard to imagine, says Miller. As a third argument, Miller puts forward Cross’s hypothesis that ‫ יהוה צבאות‬has its roots in the Canaanite epithet of El. This epithet, which is not mentioned in any text and is therefore entirely hypothetical, is said to have been *el du jahwi abaot (El who created the hosts). Miller is on stronger grounds when referring to biblical epithets, such as el gibbor and proper names in which El is connected to rather pugnacious notions as in the name Israel ( ‫)ישׂראל‬. All in all, Millers theory contains quite some uncertainties.

148 Miller, The Divine Warrior, 162–163. For the rest, Miller’s conclusion seems to stand at odds with his statement on p. 156 that war was seen as less and less synergetic; in other words that there was a development from historic wars that involved YHWH to wars that were waged by YHWH only: “At the centre of Israel’s warfare was the unyielding conviction that victory was the result of a fusion of divine and human activity. As the centuries passed and the traditions grew, there came a tendency to ascribe the victory solely to the miraculous intervention of Yahweh apart from any participation of the people but in the early period of Israel’s history there was no such abdication on the part of the people.”

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M.C. Lind, Yahweh is a Warrior (1980) We already discussed Lind’s book Yahweh is a Warrior in some depth in the above (1.3.1). We want to shortly refer to it here, because the author of this book also wrote on the relationship between the Old Testament and the contemporary world. First of all, we saw that Lind puts emphasis on the theological notion that Israel was not allowed to be “like the other peoples”. Not surprisingly, Lind has a tendency to remark differences rather than similarities between the two text corpora we are dealing with. As opposed to Miller, he states that he does not believe in the development of a myth into a history, of an epic into a historical narration.149 Related to this view, he considers that the Canaanite texts had a very limited influence on the biblical texts. The Canaanite influence is said to only be visible in the court literature, including in several psalms. As opposed to Weippert, Lind states that the themes of holy war are not old. They have not been formed after extrabiblical motifs but after their own “distinctive Israelite theology”, this being the tradition of the exodus.150 YHWH, and He alone, was Israel’s warrior and king and this fact implied a critical view of any earthly king. For example: “Israel’s criticism of chariotry was linked with her criticism of kingship, because she saw it as belonging to a feudalistic pyramid structure, a slavery as real as the slavery of Egypt.”151 Lind’s great contribution to the discussion is that he introduces an important differentiation. Lind does not only pay attention to loose motifs or themes, but he observes the way in which these motifs function. In his view, the big difference cannot be found in the distinction between a historic and a mythical interpretation of war, but in the distinction between a prophetic and a royal vision on war. The unique aspect of the Old Testament is that the prophetic and not the royal view is dominating. With this analysis, Lind opens the way to a form of research that not only pay attention to loose formulas or theological notions, but also to the way in which certain themes are being employed.

149 This is an often-heard and correct criticism on Albright’s American school. See Van Seters, In Search of History, 92–95. Epics have always existed at the same time as prose and there is no relationship between the two in the sense that the one developed from the other. 150 Lind, Yahweh is a Warrior, 108. 151 Lind, Yahweh is a Warrior, 84.

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M. Weinfeld, “Divine Intervention in War in Ancient Israel and in the Ancient Near East” (1983) Weinfeld published an article that is somewhat comparable to Weippert’s article in 1983.152 His first sentence: “Scholars have recently begun to realize that the image of the fighting god who hastens to the aid of his people was widespread in the Ancient Near East and is not necessarily unique to Israel.” On the one hand, his article is of a more limited nature than Weippert’s article, because he restricts himself to the topoi of divine intervention in war. On the other hand, his scope is wider, because Weinfeld does not only limit himself to Assyria and the first millennium. He also examines Egyptian, Canaanite and Greek literature. He shows that all forms of divine intervention that can be found in biblical war stories also appear outside of the Bible: the stars that fought from the heavens ( Judg. 5:20–22), the fire and the cloud (Ex. 14:24), lightning, hail and sulphur (2 Sam. 22:12), hail stones ( Josh. 10:11), thunder (2 Sam. 22:14), dark clouds (Ex. 14:19–20) and even the famous standstill of the sun in Joshua 10:12. Weinfeld does not get any further with his analysis than establishing the literary similarities between the various text corpora. He does not give any explanations, nor does he make any connection between these literary parallels and the underlying ideology. Sa-Moon Kang, Divine War in the Old Testament and in the Ancient Near East (1989) We already discussed Kang’s study, Divine War in the Old Testament and in the Ancient Near East, but it is useful to revisit his method of comparison one more time. We saw before that he bases himself on the principle of analogy and sees the Old Testament as a part of the general Ancient Near Eastern culture. This brings him to draw rather radical conclusions, writing for example: “It is assumed that the motif of divine war is not the vindication of the weak, but the political propaganda of the strong, that is, of the victor, as the Egyptian literature shows. It is thus considered that the motif of divine war was the main focus of the heroic literature which was created in the heroic age, the formative period of

152 M. Weinfeld, “Divine Intervention in War in Ancient Israel and in the Ancient Near East”, in H. Tadmor en M. Weinfeld, History, Historiography and Interpretation: Studies in Biblical and Cuneiform Literatures, Jerusalem 1983, 121–147.

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the nascent national existence.”153 It is unnecessary to spell out that Kang positions himself diametrically opposite of Lind. YHWH is a divine warrior who rises with king David’s empire, in Kang’s reading. Kang observes the following similarities between the Old Testament and the Ancient Near East:154 1. In the Ancient Near East, war was seen as something that happened upon divine order. In Egypt, war was seen as a divine plan, in Mesopotamia and with the Hethites, as a legal matter: “God is a judge as well as a warrior.” 2. “The basic concept of the divine war is that god is a warrior who fights against the enemy.” Ninurta was the first divine warrior. “The other divine warriors began to appear with the establishment of each empire like Inanna/Ishtar of the Sargonic, Marduk of the Old Babylonian, and Ashur of the Assyrian Empire.” In a comparable manner, YHWH was seen to have risen with the Davidic Empire. 3. The war starts with a consultation of the gods, followed by an oracle. 4. If the oracle was advantageous, the gods participated in the battle, as was often made visual by carrying along the god’s emblem in the vanguard. The climax of a divine war was divine interference by means of miracles and natural phenomena such as a flood, a storm; historic events such as an uprising; or the fear for the divine warriors itself. 5. Victory was ascribed to the divinity itself, and the spoils also went to the god(s). 6. The ideology of the godly war was immortalized in a cultic celebration. Upon a close look, Kang’s argument mainly draws on psalms and texts from the early prophets until 2 Samuel, until David’s ascension to the throne. Hardly any references are made to the books of the Kings. It is unclear how Kang deals with all the criticism on the kings and the important position of the prophets within the Old Testament. It is true that he shortly discusses the interpretation of defeat within the

153

Kang, Divine War, 75. These points are based on Kang’s summary of his findings in: Divine War, 108. All other references are also from this page. 154

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ideology of the divine war. For this exercise, too, he thinks there are multiple models to be found in the Ancient Near Eastern cultures, such as the interpretation of defeat as punishment or as the departure of a god from the city.155 With one broad sweeping statement, he crosses of all other facts, which do not fit into his theory as being late Deuteronomistic motifs: “The motifs of YHWH war are parallel to those of divine war of the ancient Near East which are attested in the historical contexts. But they are distinguished from those of YHWH war in the exilic and post-exilic period in which there was a vacuum of militarypolitical power, because there was no monarchy. Here the motifs of YHWH war go beyond the historical level having eschatological and apocalyptical dimensions.”156 Evaluation It may be ironic that we started our discussion with a description of the holy war as a typical Israelite phenomenon and end with the theory of the holy (or divine) war as common Ancient Near Eastern. This observation naturally leads to the question whether there is a method that provides an insightful as well as a verifiable way of comparing the two. There is little we can say against the conclusion drawn by Weippert and Weinfeld that all elements and turns of phrases in texts of war in the Old Testament can also be found in extrabiblical texts, for this observation is rather basic and factual. The question remains how we should interpret this finding and what it contributes to our insight. A contemporary example could be illuminating; reverend Paisley, as well as Billy Graham and the pop star Prince have undoubtedly written texts in which they say that “God is love”. We could conclude from this that it concerns a “common Western twentieth century Christian body of thought”. Although we would not be saying anything wrong, the three individuals just mentioned would probably fervently resist this comparison. So we can suspect in advance that the three individuals involved hold a different ideology. The phrase will sound very different in a sermon by Billy Graham then it does in a pop song by Prince on a podium while the singer is making gestures of an erotic nature. And even though both reverent Paisley and Billy Graham will make use of

155 156

Kang, Divine War, 20–22. Kang, Divine War, 113.

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the same genre ‘sermon’, the tone and the examples used will evoke different meanings with each of the two. This is all the more true for stories, and especially for literary stories. A sermon knows only one view, but in a story, multiple perspectives are employed. Many an author got into trouble by having a character say something that was afterwards read as the author’s own personal opinion by critics or readers. Apart from the genre and context we thus also have to do with perspective, irony and parody in literary stories. In other words, the question is: how can we make a comparison between two or more cultures or text corpora? Is there a method that hands an instrument to us to chart the differences and comparisons? An example of the difficulties involved in a comparison between two entire cultures or text corpora, is the discussion on the place of history in the various religions. It is often claimed that the unique aspect of the Israelite religion is the central stage of history within that religion. While other religions are said to have a cyclical view of history, emphasizing order and repetition, history in Israel takes place in a linear manner and YHWH shows himself in single historic events. Albrektson has qualified this kind of statements.157 He finally comes to the conclusion that the central ideas in the various ancient Near Eastern religions are identical to a very large extent. According to him, the main difference is to be found in the way the ideas are worked out, for example in their influence on the cult. Nowhere were agricultural celebrations made part of history as they were in Ancient Israel. Albrekston sees it as a matter of form and content: the form was common Ancient Near Eastern, the content was specifically Israelite.158 Saggs worked out a comparable, nuanced vision.159 He phrased the problem as follows: “One may certainly feel that there is a greater

157

B. Albrektson, History and the gods, Lund 1967. Compare to for example Albrektson, History, 115: “Even if the idea of divine acts in history is found in much the same form both in Israel and in the neighboring peoples, it may well have occupied a rather different place in the different patterns of beliefs.” And 122: “The form of this revelation is not distinctive: it is a common belief that the deity speaks to man, and prophets claiming to reveal divine messages are known also outside Israel. But the content of this revelation is in several respects unique. It is here that we learn about Yhwh’s purposes and intentions, his true nature and the innermost thoughts of his heart, his gifts and his claims, which make him different from all the other gods of the ancient Near East.” 159 H.W.F. Saggs, The Encounter with the Divine in Mesopotamia and Israel, London 1978. 158

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emphasis upon direct intervention in history in Israel and upon destiny in Mesopotamia, but this impression can hardly be quantified, and even if it is factually based, represents differences of degree, not of principle.”160 Smith said something comparable: “The knowledge of this general pattern should serve as a guide and a caution in OT studies. It should serve as a guide by making clear the peculiarities of the OT, the points which need special explanation—for instance, Yahweh’s abnormal jealousy and the almost complete neglect of the underworld.”161 Still, form and content or principle and gradation—these remain unspecific terms, and Saggs unfortunately did not offer a method for getting a hold on the similarities and differences.162 Intermezzo: P. Machinist, “Assyria and its Image in the First Isaiah” (1983) In 1983, the American Assyriologist Machinist wrote an article that is important to our research.163 Machinist is probably the first to attempt to compare two text corpora of Isaiah and the Neo-Assyrian royal inscriptions in this article, explaining their similarities within their context. On the one hand, he thereby shows how effective the Assyrian propaganda was. Isaiah literally uses images that were first created in this propaganda. On the other hand, he shows that Isaiah reinterprets the images diffused through the propaganda, actually even deconstructing them, to form his own message from the loose elements that he found in that way. This process resembles a parody in many ways. When Isaiah writes that the king of Assyria is boasting with the words: “I have removed the bounds of the peoples, and have robbed their treasures, and have brought down as one mighty the inhabitants;” (Is. 10:13b), it turns out that these are not Isaiah’s own words, but quotes. A contemporary of Isaiah, Sargon II, says in his annals: “With battering rams, I tore down their walls and razed them to the

160

Saggs, The Encounter, 76. Smith, “Common Theology”, 146. 162 Also compare to W.G. Lambert, “Destiny and Divine Intervention in Babylon and Israel”, OTS 17 (1972), 65–72. He calls the problem that he sketches ‘thorny’: “This paper is concerned with the thorny problem of the distinctiveness of Israel. The problem is curious in that though hardly any one will deny that Israel was distinctive in her ancient Near Eastern context, it is practically impossible to offer any clearly defined grounds for this view without raising a retort from some quarter that other nations shared in the aspect claimed as distinctive.” 163 P. Machinist, “Assyria and its Image in the First Isaiah”, JAOS 103 (1983), 719–737. 161

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ground. The people, I plundered, with all their property. These cities, I demolished them, destroyed them, and set them on fire.”164 Isaiah even seems to have known and adopted entire turns of phrases. Compare Isaiah 1:7: ‫‘( ארצם שׁממה שׁרף אשׁ‬their land, destroyed, eaten up, burnt, consumed by fire’) to the words employed by Ashurnasirpal in a text: napālu/naqāru ‘destroy’, ina išāti šarāpu ‘burn with fire’, akālu ‘eat, digest’. In this manner, Machinist brings forward several examples, to come to the conclusion: “One may not unreasonably argue, therefore, that if the idiom was known in Israel before the latter eighth century, its prominence from then on—and specifically, in the text of Isaiah before us, where it is, after all, directly applied to the Assyrian king—reflects the impact of a literary and military tradition brought by Neo-Assyria.”165 This is one side of the story. The other side is more interesting, if possible: Isaiah did not stick with “simply an approving, bland echo of what he had received [. . .] the prophet sought to deflect and rework the Assyrian propaganda he encountered.”166 The cedars and cypresses of Lebanon, about which the Assyrian kings boasted that they made use of these majestic tree fields for their own use, “break out in singing” when the Assyrian king dies (Is. 14:7–8). The Assyrian yoke that was to be laid on all peoples (a topos) is removed by YHWH according to Isaiah (Is. 14:25 en 10:27). Assyrian kings like to justify their wars with the argument that the enemy trusted on their own strength rather than on the power of the god Ashur. Well, it is exactly this reproach of pride that Isaiah makes the Assyrian kings (Is. 10:13). Finally, there is the king’s verdict in 10:8 “Are not my commanders all kings” which is an ironic reversal to any Judean expert of Akkadic. For the Hebrew sar (commander) is very similar to the Akkadic šarru (king), while the Hebrew word malku, related to ‫( מלך‬king), means a commander, a king of a lower order in than the šarru in Akkadic. This form of boasting thus already sounds like a misunderstanding in Hebrew. In short: Machinist demonstrates that there seems to be connections between the two text corpora. It is possible that elements were borrowed between the two, that the two were hinting at each other and even parodied each other. Isaiah is without a doubt part of the 164 165 166

Machinist, “Assyria and its Image”, 723. Machinist, “Assyria and its Image”, 726. Machinist, “Assyria and its Image”, 734.

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general Ancient Near Eastern culture, but that general conclusion is less interesting than the specific question of what he did with this culture, including its clichés and topoi. In this manner, Machinist gives us an example of an effective form of analysis. He does not lay down loose expressions and formulas without offering an explanation for differences and similarities. Neither does he make the mistake of switching to a comparison of the ideas and theology behind the texts, sketching just the broad outlines. Instead, he analyzes specific texts in their context and compares the function that these texts have within this context. This paragraph, like the ones above, shows us the necessity for a literary comparison that precedes a theological or ideological comparison. Our question will therefore have to be: If we assume that the bible writers wrote their stories against the background of a general Ancient Near Eastern culture, can we trace what was specific about their message (theology/ideology), and how they expressed that message (literary characteristics)?167 1.4. Method In the above, the need for a method repeatedly surfaced, in order to enable a comparison between the two corpora of texts. This method should offer a refined instrument that can register subtle differences and similarities. It should be a method that can take us further than the finding that “the gods interfere in the battle in both texts” or that “the ban is mentioned in both texts”. A method that enables us to clearly see how it is possible that a prophet appears in both texts, that he even makes practically the same pronouncements, while we are under the strong impression that he has different functions in each story. In short, a method that analyzes literary characteristics in relation to their ideological function.

167 Our question thus reflects exactly what Smith had already put into words in 1952: “The knowledge of this general pattern should [. . .] serve as a guide by making clear the peculiarities of the OT.” Smith, “Common Theology”, 146.

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The narratology appears to be a method that fulfils these wishes.168 The narratology is “the theory of stories and story-telling”. It is a theory that can be applied to all stories, not just literary stories. The narratology is based on the following definition of a story: a story is a text about an event. In one breath, this simple definition names the three levels that any story consists of: event, story and text. The three levels have to do with two different processings that transform an event into a narrative text: event: who is acting? There are actors that take action and bring about a change in situation against a set of time and place by there. story: who is observing? Someone in the story is offering his or her vision on the events, someone who selects, gives colour, interferes. text: who is telling? Someone is telling the story or writing it down and is using certain images, certain words, is pulling out certain registers. The importance of these distinctions to our research will be clear, and can be illustrated by an everyday example. Say there have been disorders because of a soccer match (the event). Several newspapers can turn this event into a variety of stories. One news paper may report that “the police had difficulty keeping the group of troublemakers under control.” Another newspaper may overplay the event with the account that “hooligans created a huge chaos.” It will be clear that a different view on soccer supporters lies behind such a difference in reporting and each style will have a different intended effect on the reader. Lastly, the text will be different too. Even in the choice of words and of punctuation marks (“restless Sunday” vs. “more chaos!” for example) will convey something about the underlying analysis. If we apply this distinction to ancient war texts, we think we can expect that this method will help us chart the relationship between the ideology and the literary characteristics of a text. In each of two texts, a prophet can be introduced who pronounces an handing-over formula, and yet the texts can be worlds apart: the difference can be told from selection of

168 Bal, De theorie van vertellen en verhalen. One can find a summary in: J. van Luxemburg, M. Bal, W. Weststeijn, Inleiding in de literatuurwetenschap, Muiderberg 19822, 128–165.

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the events mentioned, the amount of represented time within the selection of the events mentioned, the number of characters mentioned, the importance given to the various characters and their vision, and the choice of words. 1.4.1. The level of the event An event is the transition from one situation to another. The very first question one can pose is: which events did the story teller consider worthy of relating? The fact that a certain prophet appears frequently or is frequently consulted in a certain text is likely to be of significance. Previous to the description of the battle, are the preparations mentioned, lists, recruiting, or maybe entirely different aspects? We can try and classify which types of events are told. One of the assumptions of narratology is that an event is generally triggered by a sense of a deficit or an absence: famine, suppression or being in love, to mention just three possibilities. The main character’s pursuit is generally aimed at removing this deficit. We can start to wonder what the deficit is, and whether the events imply an improvement or rather a change for the worse compared to the original situation. Moreover, a story always features actors that appear—the main character has already been mentioned. At an abstract level, one can divide these into several classes. These classes have been labelled “actantial positions” in the narratology. The person or item that is in such an actantial position, is called an “actant”. An actant is not necessarily an actor, it can also be a personality trait or an object. Moreover, the same actor can fulfil several actantial positions. There are six actantial positions:169

sender (destinateur)

object

receiver (destinataire)

(quest or desire) helper

subject

opponent

169 Not by coincidence, one can recognize terminology from grammar underlying these positions: subject, verb (quest), object, indirect object (both helper and— paradoxically—the opponent).

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The quest is the pursuit we mentioned before. The subject is the main character, who generally seeks some sort of liberation, enlargement of his empire, revenge or the hand of a princess. Previous to the quest, the subject often has to acquire the necessary skills to complete his quest. First, the magical ring needs to be found, the army is to be assembled, advice is to be sought, support needs to be mobilized. Often, a destinateur or a sender plays a role. This is the actor who has the power to give the events a critical turn. This could be the king who has the power to give or not give his daughter in marriage to the prince. In biblical stories, we often find God in this position. The destinataire or receiver will frequently be the same person as the subject, at least in those stories that involve a happy ending for the subject. Even if the subject is not the receiver, happy endings occur. In 2 Kings 3:14, God grants victory to king Joram for king Josafat’s sake, who is with king Joram. The subject is assisted in his quest by helpers (these can be individuals or other factors such as intelligence) and he often meets with opposition by opponents. The simple act of charting the number of actants and their internal relationships is already an important part of the analysis of a text. Finally, at this level of analysis, one can observe how much time an event takes up, whether the text includes indications of place and/or movement. 1.4.2. The level of the story The story is the level of structuring. We defined an event as the transition from one situation to another. At that level, we can see a logical and chronological succession: firstly, the fight took place; then, the murder was committed; after which the investigation was commenced, and finally, the culprit was unmasked. Well, it is at the level of the story that interventions are made in this chronology. Most stories do not start at the beginning, to then follow through till the end; most stories commence in medias res, in the middle of the story. A story may start with the discovery of the murder, continuing with the beginning of the investigation, the discovery of the motive (the fight) by the detective, while we finally learn the actual facts from the unmasked murderer in a flash back. The order of the story in this version is: c, d, a, b. So intervening in the order is one of the devices for making an event into a story. Another devise one could employ is manipulating the pace of the story. And a storyteller selects: he considers some

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events of interest to his story, he leaves others out. One type of event is recounted in much detail, the other is shortly summarized. At one point, he literally reproduces an entire conversation, at another, he skips an entire month. We call this the relationship between the representational (or: discourse) and represented (or: story) time. We can distinguish five tempi in total: ellipse:

the represented time is endlessly more than the representational time (which is nil) summary: the represented time is greater than the representational time (one week is described by one sentence) scene: the represented time is equal to the representational time (the word-for-word account of a conversation) slow-down: the represented time is smaller than the representational time (a digression just before the climax) pause: the represented time is endlessly smaller (being zero) than the representational time (descriptions) The next element that is of interest to our research, is the distribution of the representational time. This means we are not just asking ourselves which types of events are being recounted (we discussed this above), but in which of these events one is most interested in a quantitative sense.170 The answer to this question shall convey a lot of things about the storytellers’ interest. In dividing the representational time, we shall occasionally use the terminology associated with suspense arc. Generally, one can differentiate between five phases. The first one is the exposition phase. In this phase, the characters are introduced, the starting position or the basic conflict are described. Then follows the complication phase, in which the characters start pursuing certain goals and running into all kinds of problems and restrictions. Applying the metaphor of “texture”, fabric with different story threads to the story, we can say that in the complication phase, the threads get all tangled up with each other. This phase generally ends in the climax, the moment during which the tension is the highest. Then, there is the phase of dénouement: the story threads 170 See my earlier publication Richters, dichters en vredestichters: Oudtestamentische oorlogsverhalen gelezen als literatuur, Baarn 1992, 126. The war stories of the Old Testament show a remarkable disinterest for war itself. Doubt, despair and Israel’s lack of faith are assigned much more representational time than the acts of war.

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are finished off, the conflict is solved. Lastly, there may sometimes be a sanction phase, the phase in which the stories are interpreted and evaluated by the characters or by the narrator. Another very important aspect in narratology is the focalization. This term derives from the world of film, where it indicates that one can choose to follow the story from the position of one personage, or more than one, or from a general standpoint. A general standpoint (the narrator) is called an “external focalization”. We see someone walking on the street (external focalization), after which we see the doorbell he is ringing as if from his eyes (internal focalization) and finally, the camera is moved inside where we witness another character opening the door and greeting the first character (another internal focalization). The term was deliberately introduced into narratology, seeing that it is more precise than the term “perspective”. It is possible to look into a story from the point of view of a character without the narrator following his or her perspective. If the king of Israel says that Micaiah “would not prophesy anything favourable about me, but only disaster?’ in 1 Kings 22:8, we are looking along with the king (focalization), while we get the impression that the narrator disqualifies the king rather than the prophet from the context (perspective). ‘Focalization’ is therefore the ultimate concept for analyzing the subtle ensemble of text and ideology. Many an author ran into trouble when readers did not distinguish between different focalizators. The author then was criticized for something one of his characters said. It shall be important to take the number of focalizators into account. Who is the author allowing to speak? The ideology will be different depending on whether it is one or multiple characters that are permitted to present their vision of reality. The latter could involve clashing opinions. The concept ‘focalizator’ is abstract in the sense that there are no separate focalizators in a story. The narrator can focalize (we then speak of an external focalizator) or a character can focalize (an internal focalizator). External and internal focalizator can also come together in a so-called first-person narrative which is when the narrator is also a character in the story. If the story is mainly told from an external focalizator, this produces a different effect than when it would be internal focalizators that are speaking. Finally, we can ask ourselves what the effect of focalization is. Putting the now well-known prophet handing-over formula with on stage once more: focalization will generally have the effect of creating the impression of legitimacy (“deity X will give you enemy Y in hands”). The narrator

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suggests “the deity is supporting you” by presenting this focalization. If the prophet, however, shows up directly after the king has proclaimed that this prophet never prophesies anything good about him, the same formula will come across as confusing, it will increase the tension in the story or we will even think it ironic (as in 1 Kgs 22:15). 1.4.3. The level of the text The third and last level within a story is that of the text. We saw that one and the same event can be made into separate stories. Even when the event and the story remain the same, the text can sound very different. A person that tells his child the fairytale of the Ugly Duckling will by and large tell the same story that Hans Christian Andersen once wrote down, yet both texts will differ widely when it comes to the metaphors, the choice of words and the length of the story. Buber and Rosenzweig pointed out that, at least for the Bible, the use of words is a very important structuralizing element.171 They spoke of a Leitwortstil. It shall therefore be important to search for such motif words and their internal coherence (structure). Since this work, however, it has become clear that such words do not only have the function of structuralizing and generating meaning. Fokkelman even lists twelve different “levels of signification”.172 We shall not go into all of these twelve levels within the text, but we shall explicitly dwell upon three of the twelve, these being sound, word and theme. The other levels shall be considered when these are relevant to the discussion of the structure of the text. Examples of other levels include repetition of scenes or phrases. We chose the three levels just mentioned because of their particular significance.173 It will not be necessary to give an elaborate explanation of our choice to include motif words, after having referred to Buber and Rosenzweig.174 We chose the level of sound because this

171

M. Buber en F. Rosenzweig, Die Schrift und Ihre Verdeutschung, Berlin 1936. J.P. Fokkelman, Narrative Art and Poetry in the Books of Samuel: Vol. II, 4: “sounds, syllables, words, phrases, clauses, sentences, sequences/speeches, scene-parts, scenes, acts, sections/cycles, book or composition”. 173 Alter put a lot of work into repetition of scenes and themes in The Art of Biblical Narrative, New York 1981, especially pp. 95–96. He also makes a selection of those levels that are relevant to him, discussing Leitwort, motif, theme, sequence of actions and typical scenes. 174 Perhaps this is no more than a misunderstanding that can be dispelled. The use of the word ‘motif ’ could lead to believe that our interpretation is a traditional one, as if it were the writer’s motif, as if the writer had a goal in mind and was deliberately 172

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level often puts us on the trail of special literary techniques such as rhyme and play on words. Like Alter, we describe theme as “an idea which is part of the value-system of the narrative”.175 The example we can mention here is the theme that trust in YHWH is irreconcilable with trust in horses and wagons (Is. 31:1). Furthermore, we shall take a look at intertextuality. This is a procedure that can not be easily traced, let alone be proven. It is permissible to suppose intertextuality within one and the same literary tradition. The Assyrian annals are in close keeping with each other in use of language, epithets and use of metaphors. It is also clear that texts refer to each other within the Bible itself, especially within the Deuteronomistic history. It is a lot more difficult with texts that do not clearly stand within a one tradition, or two texts that stem from different ones. For it to be valid to use this theory, it has to be plausible that the writer knew the texts that he is alluding to. Still, we should keep this possibility in mind, as it was for example the case in the article by Machinist mentioned above. Evidently, Isaiah is knowingly alluding to the Assyrian propaganda. Metaphors are another element we should pay attention to. The impression one gets is that little metaphors are used in the Bible. The narration style can often be called sober, especially in comparison to many extrabiblical texts. We shall have to ask ourselves whether this conjecture is correct, and whether it tells us something about the ideology. We will use the definition of ‘metaphor’ found in the dictionary: “figurative use of language in general”. Frequently, a distinction is made between a simile and a metaphor, but the problem is that the dividing line between both concepts is drawn in different ways. Van Luxemburg lists four elements that play a role in a comparison, taking as an example the expression “my house is as strong as a fortress”.176 In this expression there is the item to which the comparison is made (fortress), an item that is compared (house), a motif 177 (strong) and a word of comparison (as). Of these four, three can be left out if so desired.

using a certain motif words. However, the word ‘motif ’ should be read in the meaning of ‘pattern’ here, just like fabric can have a motif woven into it. It is very possible that the writer was not aware of such a pattern himself. 175 Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative, 95. 176 Luxemburg, Inleiding in de literatuurwetenschap, 199–202. 177 This is often called tertium comparationis in the classic poetics.

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The comparison could also be stated as “my house is as a fortress” (the motif is lacking), “my house is a fortress” (both motif and word of comparison are lacking) and “my fortress” (only the item to which the comparison is made is left). Only this last phrase is called a metaphor by Van Luxemburg. Streck calls the first two similes and the last two ‘metaphors’, because he bases his definition of the latter on inclusion of the word of comparison.178 For that matter, Streck does draw attention to the fact that in the classic poetics, the motif was the element that marked the difference between a simile and a metaphor.179 In that case, only the first example would be a simile, and the last three would be called metaphors. For our purpose, it seems sufficient to gather all the figurative forms of speech together and leave alone these matters of definition in the following. 1.5. Research questions Now that we have determined that we want to make use of narratology as a method, we can specify the phrasing of the question of our research. In chapter 1.3 we came to the following three questions based on the three different paragraphs: 1. In which genres of the Ancient Near East was war a theme and what were the literary techniques used? 2. What is the position of God or the gods and what is the position of the king within the war stories? Which personages can further be pointed out and which role do they play? And what does this say about the ideology of the text? 3. If we assume that the bible writers wrote their stories against the background of a common Ancient Near Eastern culture, can we trace what the was specific about their message (theology/ideology), and how they expressed that message (literary characteristics)?

178 M.P. Streck, Die Bildersprache der akkadischen Epik (AOAT 264), Münster 1999, 31. Streck makes his study, which is otherwise clarifying, unnecessarily complicated by mixing up literary and grammatical criteria. He makes endless differentiations between comparisons with kīma (‘as’), with -iš (‘-wise’) or as connection to a genitive (such as a ‘stream of words’). Although it may be interesting to the grammatician, it is of no importance to a literary analysis whether one says “his words come as a flood”, “his words come in floods” or “it is a flood of words with him”. 179 Streck, Die Bildersprache, 32.

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These three questions all circle around the relationship between literary characteristics and the ideology. The assumption is that certain literary properties, such as multiple perspectives or the division of the representational time could lead us on a trail to understanding the underlying value system. Keeping in mind the narratology, this has led us to the following list of questions, which functions as a checklist while analyzing the texts. Questions on beforehand a. What is the genre of the text? At the level of the event a. How can the events that are told be classified? b. Do the events imply an improvement or a change for worse in the situation? c. Which actors appear and in which ‘actantial’ positions? (actors) d. In how much time do the events take place? (time) e. Which indications of place and/or displacement can be found in the text? (place) At the level of the story a. Are any interventions made in the order of time? If so, how? That is to say: are there any flashbacks, anticipations, repetitions? (order of time) b. How is the relationship between representational and represented time? (pace) c. How is the distribution of the representational time over the classified events? In other words: to what event is spent most representational time and does this imply anything about the text? (distribution of representational time) d. Who focalizes in the text? Are the focalizations mainly external or also internal? (focalization) e. What are the effects of the focalizations? Are they critical, ironic, legitimizing, made multiple perspective? (effects of focalizations) At the level of the text a. Are there any sound repetitions and/or play? (sound) b. Are there any word repetitions and/or play? (word) c. Are there any repetitions of themes? (theme) d. Are there forms of intertextuality? (intertextuality)

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e. Which metaphors are used? (metaphors) f. What is the structure of the text? (structure) The ideology and/or theology a. How is the king focalized? b. Is war valued in either a positive or a negative way? c. Does this valuation have an effect on the valuation of the king? d. How is God and/or how are the gods focalized within the text? e. How is the relationship between divine and human activities portrayed? f. Which ideology or theology can be inferred from these texts and is it present in an explicit or an implicit way? We will now put six Bible stories and ten extrabiblical texts to the test of the questions from this list in the two chapters that follow.

CHAPTER TWO

WAR IN THE BOOK OF KINGS1 2.1. Introduction In order to obtain an overview of the texts that feature the theme of ‘war’, it is useful to classify them based on genres. In the book of Kings, we come across the theme of ‘war’ in four different genres. 2.1.1. The ‘framework’ In the first place, the theme appears in the short notes known as the “framework”.2 The framework is comprised of texts comparable to 1 Kings 14:19: “Now the rest of the acts of Jeroboam, how he warred and how he reigned, are written in the Book of the Annals of the Kings of Israel.” 2.1.2. The chronicles The second genre is made up of the slightly more elaborate tales, such as 1 Kings 14:25–26: “In the fifth year of King Rehoboam, King Shishak of Egypt came up against Jerusalem; he took away the treasures of the house of the Lord and the treasures of the king’s house; he took everything. He also took away all the shields of gold that Solomon had made.” It is striking that these texts frequently feature gold and silver, be it from the temple or not.3 The information has proven to be historically reliable: 2 Kings 15:19–20 and 2 Kings 18:14–16 largely

1 Chapter 2.1 appeared before as part of the article “De functie van het thema ‘oorlog’ in het boek Koningen” in ACEBT 15 (1996), 42–59. 2 For the theory on this framework, see the articles by Smelik and Van Soest in ACEBT: “De dynastieën van Omri en Jehu”. “Openingsformules in het boek Koningen: de compositie van het boek Koningen (2)”, ACEBT 12 (1993), 62–86. “Overlijdensteksten in het boek Koningen: de compositie van het boek Koningen (3)”, ACEBT 13 (1994), 56–71. “Bronverwijzingen in het boek Koningen: De compositie van het boek Koningen (4)”, ACEBT 15 (1996), 26–41. 3 1 Kings 15:18, 2 Kings 12:18, 2 Kings 14:14, 2 Kings 15:19–20, 2 Kings 16:8, 2 Kings 18:14–16, 2 Kings 24:13–17.

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correspond to Assyrian sources. Moreover, the note in 2 Kings 18:14–16 stands in contrast with the rest of the story. We can imagine that the writers found the information in the “chronicles of the kings of Judah/ Israel”. Just as they did with the framework (genre 1), the writers of the bible used these chronicles and adapted them to their story.4 They placed the theme of gold and silver in their own paraenetic framework, and at times used the theme freely in an elaborate narration: 2 Kings 20. The paraenesis is: gold and silver—including the gold and silver of the temple—sometimes seem to have the capacity of averting war, but this is only seemingly so. The protection offered by the temple is of an entirely different nature; it is a protection that depends on the Torah.5 This is why a Torah scroll is found at the end of the book of Kings (2 Kings 22), just before the temple is dramatically stripped of gold and silver (2 Kgs 24:13–17). This shows us an important connection between the book of Deuteronomy and the book of Kings: in Deuteronomy 17:17–18, the ideal king is represented as one who does not gather together large amounts of gold and silver, but has a copy of the Torah made for himself.6 It is important to note that all of these texts but one7 deal with kings from Judah.8 2.1.3. Solomon’s prayer The third genre, Solomon’s prayer, is connected to the second. This prayer (1 Kings 8) also features the theme ‘war’. The book of Kings starts with the construction of the temple and ends with the destruction

4

Compare to the conclusion by Smelik and Van Soest, “Overlijdensteksten”, 71. See J. van Dorp, “De tempelrestauratie van Joas (2 Koningen 12) Het gebruik van een motief in het boek Koningen”, ACEBT 9 (1988), 77–89. In reference to the story in 2 Kings 12 on p. 84, Van Dorp also notes that the narrative function of the money is the same as that of book. 6 Compare to W.G. de Wit, “Voorwerpen in de tempel: Een begeleidend motief in het boek Koningen”, ACEBT 12 (1993), 87–105. De Wit however, did not see the connection between the motif of these temple objects and the ‘war’ theme. 7 2 Kings 15:19 is about king Menahem of Israel. However, we do not of course have to do with the silver from the temple. 8 Also see Th.E. Mullen, “Crime and punishment: The sins of the king and the despoliation of the treasuries”, CBQ 54 (1992), 231–248. Mullen sees an element of punishment in the motif of the temple treasures that have to be handed over to a hostile king. The fact that this punishment especially befalls pious kings, in his view has to do with the fact that while these kings are indeed doing what is right in YHWH’s eyes, they are neglecting to clear the heights. Hezekiah is an exception to the rule. See chapter 2.6, in which we shall go into this rather complex theory. 5

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thereof. The very first time that the theme ‘war’ surfaces in the book of Kings, is in 1 Kings 5:2–5. Solomon has Hiram say that David is incapable of building the temple due to the war that is waged against him from all sides. The temple is thus associated with the theme ‘war’: David could not build the temple because of his wars—therefore the ‘prince of peace’ Solomon will build it. The theme is taken up in Solomon’s prayer (1 Kings 8:44–51): “If your people go out to battle against their enemy, by whatever way you shall send them, and they pray to the Lord towards the city that you have chosen and the house that I have built for your name, then hear in heaven their prayer and their plea, and maintain their cause. If they sin against you—for there is no one who does not sin—and you are angry with them and give them to an enemy, so that they are carried away captive to the land of the enemy, far off or near.” These verses can be called programmatic: this is where it becomes clear that the book of Kings has as its theme the questions posed by the Jewish people in exile: how is it possible that we have undergone a humiliation, while God lived in our midst? And: now that we have lost, does it mean that God has lost his grip on history? In short: ‘war’ becomes the theme of the book of Kings as a part of the process in which the people of Israel are dealing with the humiliation of 586 and are finding a religious interpretation for it. 2.1.4. War stories in which prophets take action The fourth genre, in which we can observe the theme ‘war’, is that of the stories in which a king and a prophet oppose each other. in this investigation, we shall concentrate on these stories in particular. To be exact, we shall treat the following texts in the rest of this chapter: 1 Kings 12, 20, 22, 2 Kings 3, 6:8–7:20, 18–19. It is important to keep in mind that we are dealing with kings of Israel rather than of Judah.9

9

The exceptions are 1 Kings 12 and 2 Kings 18–19. Also see below.

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Translation 1 Rehoboam went to Shechem, for all Israel had come to Shechem to make him king. 2 [When Jeroboam son of Nebat heard of it (for he was still in Egypt, where he had fled from King Solomon), then Jeroboam returned from Egypt. 3 And they sent and called him; and Jeroboam]10 and all the assembly of Israel came and said to Rehoboam, 4 Your father made our yoke heavy. Now therefore lighten the hard service of your father and his heavy yoke that he placed on us, and we will serve you. 5 He said to them, Go away for three days, then come again to me. So the people went away. 6 Then King Rehoboam took counsel with the older men who had attended his father Solomon while he was still alive, saying, How do you advise me to answer this people? 7 They answered him, If you will be a servant to this people today and serve them, and speak good words to them when you answer them, then they will be your servants for ever.

10 These verses are absent in the LXX. It is likely that the LXX gives a better reading than the MT. See below.

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8

But he left the counsel of the older men, which they have given him, and consulted the young men11 who had grown up with him and now attended him. 9 He said to them, What do you advise that we answer this people who have said to me, Lighten the yoke that your father put on us? 10 The young men who had grown up with him said to him, Thus you should say to this people who spoke to you, Your father made our yoke heavy, but you must lighten it for us; thus you should say to them, My little one12 is thicker than my father’s loins. 11 Now, whereas my father laid on you a heavy yoke, I will add to your yoke. My father disciplined you with whips, but I will discipline you with scorpions.13

11 The meaning of the word ‫ ילד‬in this context is not entirely clear. A. van den Born, Koningen (BOT), Roermond 1958, 80, thinks that it had an ironic intention: lad, brat. N.S. Fox devoted an article to the matter: “Royal Officials and Court Families: A New Look at the YLDYM (yeladim) in 1 Kings 12”, BA 59 (1996), 225–232. She discusses the various theories: the ‫ ילדים‬as brothers of the king, as a sort ‘parliament’ that existed parallel to a ‘senate’, or as court aristocracy parallel to ‘tribal elders’. She herself brings forward a parallel to Egypt. In Egypt, one spoke of ‘children’ at the court—a technical term for young persons; for example young persons from aristocratic families, or sons of vassals, who were brought up at the court as breeding grounds for later advisors to the king. 12 The word ‫‘ קטני‬my little one’ in combination with the word ‘loins’ is food for Freudians. Brongers, 1 Koningen, 130 thinks that loins stand for what he prudishly describes as the ‘pars virilis’. Cohn falls in with Noth and writes the following on the matter: “The ‘little thing’ to which the youngsters refer is a bone of some contention. Though a few versions read ‘little finger,’ M. Noth, Könige, 267, favors the meaning ‘penis’, claiming that this is the ‘little thing’ in closest proximity to the loins. The macho vulgarity does seem to fit the character of the impudent and imprudent young men.” R.L. Cohn, “Literary technique in the Jeroboam narrative”, ZAW 97 (1985), 23–35, especially 29, note 10. 13 It is likely that we have to do with a metaphoric name for an especially painful sort of whip.

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chapter two So [ Jeroboam and]14 all the people came to Rehoboam on the third day, as the king had said, Come to me again on the third day. The king answered the people harshly. He left the counsel of the older men which they had given him and spoke to them according to the counsel of the young men, My father made your yoke heavy, but I will add to your yoke; my father disciplined you with whips, but I will discipline you with scorpions. So the king did not listen to the people, because it was a turn of affairs brought about by the YHWH that he might fulfill his word, which YHWH had spoken by Ahijah the Shilonite to Jeroboam son of Nebat. When all Israel saw that the king would not listen to them, the people answered the king, What share do we have in David? We have no inheritance in the son of Jesse. To your tents, O Israel! Look now to your own house, O David. So Israel went away to their tents. [But Rehoboam reigned over the Israelites who were living in the towns of Judah.]15 When King Rehoboam sent Adoram, who was taskmaster over the forced labour, all Israel stoned him to death. King Rehoboam then hurriedly mounted his chariot to flee to Jerusalem. So Israel has been in rebellion against the house of David to this day.

14 The turn of phrase “and Jeroboam” lacks in the LXX, which probably offers a better variant of the text. See below. 15 This verse is absent in the LXX. See below.

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20 When all Israel heard that Jeroboam had returned, they sent and called him to the assembly and made him king over all Israel. There was no one who followed the house of David, except the tribe of Judah alone. 21 When Rehoboam came to Jerusalem, he assembled all the house of Judah and the tribe of Benjamin, one hundred and eighty thousand chosen troops to fight against the house of Israel, to restore the kingdom to Rehoboam son of Solomon. 22 But the word of God came to Shemaiah the man of God: 23 Say to King Rehoboam of Judah, son of Solomon, and to all the house of Judah and Benjamin, and to the rest of the people, 24 Thus says YHWH, You shall not go up or fight against your kindred the people of Israel. Let everyone go home, for this thing is from me. So they heeded the word of YHWH and went home again, according to the word of YHWH. Introduction to the chapter The text of 1 Kings 12:1–24 consists of “eine relative reiche und kontroverse Überlieferung” according to Würthwein, but he reassuringly adds that “verschiedene Darstellungen [. . .] sich jedoch leicht wieder trennen lassen.”16 Würthwein does not stand alone in his opinion. Jepsen17 thinks 1 Kings 12 grew into what it now is in the following manner:

16

E. Würthwein, Das Erste Buch der Könige Kapitel 1–16 (ATD 11,1), Göttingen 1972,

150. 17

A. Jepsen, Die Quellen des Königsbuches, Halle 1956.

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2, 20a, 25 1, 3b–14, 16, 18, 19

15, 20b 21–24

17

The part that stems from the so-called Synchronistic chronicle The story about the split of the empire, attributed to N, the nomistic redactor of the Deuteronomist history. Additions by the Deuteronomist redactor. A story that derives from a very late editing, from a priestly environment that stands close to the books Chronicles. Additions, probably originating from 2 Chronicles 10:17

This classification was widely adopted. It is true that Noth thinks that for 2, 20a and 25, there is “kein Anlaß zu solchen Einschätzung” as made by Jepsen.18 He also thinks that verse 15 was written by the Deuteronomist redactor. Apart from such ‘border skirmishes’ on the exact position of the wires, the historic-critical exegetes are of the same mind. There is not as much consensus on the dating and the intention of the various parts. Whereas Würthwein calls the first part “ein kurzer, annalenhafter Bericht”,19 Frisch notes that “Jedenfalls liegt hier kaum eine ‘kurzer annalenhafter Bericht’ (Würthwein) vor [. . .] vielmehr werden die grundlegenden Gegebenheiten in Form kurzer Bemerkungen nachgetragen.”20 The views on the second part differ even more widely, ranging from a story that served as an example in a school of wisdom21 to a political statement from an Israelite perspective, which attempted to fully blame the Davidides for the downfall of the kingdom,22 to a story from Jerusalem, “jedenfalls nicht ‘nordisraelitisch’ ”, with a great historic remoteness that shows affinity with the history of the Throne Succession Narrative in the sense that the house of David was followed rather critically in certain circles in Jerusalem.23 As long as we cannot find clear indications outside of the text, we shall not attempt to split the text in such a way. For as long as this is the case, we have to do with an equation with multiple unknown

18 19 20 21 22 23

M. Noth, Könige (BKAT IX), Neukirchen-Vluyn 1964–1968, 272. Würthwein, Könige, 150. V. Frisch, Das erste Buch der Könige (Zürcher Bibelkommentar), Zürich 1996, 133. Jepsen, Quellen, 78. Würthwein, Könige, 160. Noth, Könige, 270–272.

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quantities, and one can argue with equal persuasion that the texts or parts of the texts should be placed in the fifth or in the ninth century, in Israel or in Judah, at the court or in the temple. The literary-critical cruxes that are linked to the differences between the MT of Kings, the MT of Chronicles and the LXX are a different matter altogether. There are doubts concerning the MT at two points in the text. The least complex one is the one in verse 17. This verse, which speaks of the Israelites who live in Judah’s cities, is not present in the LXX. Also, the element does not have any function in the book of Kings. Seeing that the verse appears in Chronicles and the writer of Chronicles has a special interest (2 Chr 11:16–17) in the Israelites who fled to Judah as some sort of religious refugees, it is plausible that this verse moved to the text of Kings from Chronicles at a later stage (after the realization of LXX). A second crux concerns the first three verses, and is of relevance to the exegesis. The question is when Jeroboam came from Egypt, exactly, and whether he was present in Shechem at the assembly. Jeroboam’s presence as someone who committed a coup (see 1 Kgs 11:26) and was now representing Israel, could create the impression that the representatives of the ten tribes had a double agenda and did not offer a fair chance to Rehoboam. Furthermore, verse 20 suggests that Jeroboam is only sent for by the people in order to be declared king after the assembly. Although we are receptive to Cohn’s argument that the contradiction in the MT must have been clear to the readers in the antiquity and that it is possible that tension was created intentionally,24 it seems to us that the LXX text is to be preferred in this case.25 In the LXX,

24 Cohn, “Literary technique”, 30: “Although the inclusion of Jeroboam in the Hebrew v. 3. 12 may well be secondary, the final author of Kings, by offering two views of when Jeroboam returned, nicely underscores the basic tension between human and divine plans which informs the story.” To my knowledge, no one has pointed at the parallel with 1 Sam. 18. While it has been noted before that parallels exist between Jeroboam and David (as rex designatus while the king is still alive, as confidant of the old king, as a refugee fleeing the king’s judgment, as the dynastic promise), we could also have to do with a narrative motif: the new king moving around in the proximity of the old king, more or less without being noticed. 25 Zie S.L. McKenzie, “The source for Jeroboam’s role at Shechem (1 Kgs 11:43– 12:3, 12, 20)”, JBL 106 (1987), 297–300. He further elaborates on this vision in his book: The Trouble with Kings: The Composition of the Book of Kings in the Deuteronomistic History (VTS 42), Leiden 1991, 47–51.

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it is mentioned in 11:43 that Jeroboam returned from Egypt after he had heard that Salomon had deceased, and that he was going to his birth town Zeredah in the mountains of Ephraim. From there, he is summoned by the people in verse 20. Verses 2 and 3a are missing in the LXX, as is the mention of Jeroboam in verse 12. The plural forms ‫ ויבאו‬and ‫ ויבו‬that can be found in verses 3 and 12 according to the ke i∫, and that the qerē puts in the single form because of Jeroboam, are an extra argument for the secondary character of Jeroboams presence here. Because of this, we have placed the name Jeroboam in brackets in verses 2 and 3a. Apart from these alterations, we thus take the MT as our starting point. Cohn showed us: “Though it may show clear signs of composite authorship, a narrative might thus reveal, as well, composite artistry.”26 In other words: although it may be true that the writer or the redactor took his material from separate sources, it is also true that he made them into a unity. Cohn observes a chiastic structure in the stories on Jeroboam:27 A B1 B2 C D C’ B1’ B2’ A’

Introductory exposition: Jeroboam and Solomon (11,26–28) Prophecy of Ahijah (11,29–40) Fulfillment of prophecy (11,41–12,24) Jeroboam’s sin (12,25–33) Man of God interlude (13,1–32) Jeroboam’s sin (13,33–34) Prophecy of Ahijah (14,1–16) Fulfillment (in part) of prophecy (14,17,18) Concluding exposition: death of Jeroboam (14,19–20)

The story about the man of God who is torn apart by a lion takes centre stage in the story. The prophet had not carried out the task assigned to him by God, after he had been misled by a fellow prophet. Cohn sees the story as a parable that is a warning of how things can go with people: a person can go from being an instrument in God’s hands to being God’s enemy, if he does not keep God’s commands but

26 Cohn, “Literary technique”, 24. According to McKenzie, The Trouble with Kings, 51–56, 1 Kon. 13 is a later addition to the Deuteronomistic story about Jeroboam. 27 Cohn, “Literary technique”, 24.

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follows the wrong advice instead. This parable is symbolic both for how things went with Salomon and how things are going at the time with Jeroboam. This story, that is seen a secondary story by many exegetes, is thus central, even paradigmatic, to Jeroboam’s story.28 2.2.2. The level of the event Classification of events We encounter the following events in our text.29 1. 3. 4. 5. 7. 8. 10. 11.

occasion counsel decision of the king prophetic performance I declaration of war mustering flight prophetic performance II

1–5 6–11 12–14 15 16 21 18–20 22–24

Improvement/turn for the worse The story forms a turn for the worse with respect to the initial situation, although the change is “a turn of affairs brought about by YHWH” (verse 15). The story told is essentially the execution of a punishment that was already announced (1 Kgs 11:29–39). The ambiguous character of the events has to do with the ‘hidden histories’ that the bible writer observes behind the visible history.30 The split of the kingdom

28 Not just within the cycle of stories about Jeroboam, but even within the whole book of Kings. See J. van Dorp, “Wat is die steenhoop daar? Het graf van de man Gods in 2 Koningen 23”, ACEBT 8 (1987), 64–79. Van Dorp points at the strongest intertextual connections between Jeroboam and Josiah. For the grave of the man of God returns as a theme in 2 Kings 23, when Josiah destroys Jeroboams idolatry in Bethel, but spares his grave during this reformation. This grave is metonymically symbolic for the prophet and thereby for the Word of God, as is the Torah. Jeroboam now stands opposed to Josiah. Jeroboam makes the pilgrim’s celebrations in Jerusalem impossible, Josiah reinstates them (Pesach). Jeroboam comes across as Aaron with his golden calf, says Van Dorp, while Josiah looks like Moses with his Torah. His theory is interesting, especially since we shall see that the pilgrim’s celebrations also appear in the background of the other war stories. 29 The numeration, which seems illogical at first sight, has to do with the classification of eleven ‘types’ of events that we shall eventually come to. 30 See A. Frisch, “Shemaiah the Prophet versus king Rehoboam: Two Opposed Interpretations of the Schism (1 Kings xii 21–4)”, VT 38 (1988), 466–468.

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in Judah was always experienced as dramatic from a political point of view.31 From a religious point of view, it was in the least a regretful necessity; but, from the post-722 Judean perspective, possibly the best thing that could have happened under the circumstances.32 Actors There are three narrative programs in the text. Two groups stand opposed to each other, each sticking to their own program. The two groups do not arrive at an agreement, which leads to a conflict. Thanks to the prophetic perspective of the narrator, the readers learn that a third narrative program is hidden behind this conflict, this program is no less than God’s program. narrative program Rehoboam: narrative program YHWH: narrative program of the people & Jeroboam:

kingship over all of Israel punishment/splitting the kingdom a lighter yoke

The program that is most important to the story is Rehoboam’s:

?

kingship over all of Israel

old+young counsellors

Rehoboam

conditions set out by the people; “a turn accomplished by YHWH”; Shemaiah

31 As becomes clear from Is. 7:17: “The Lord will bring on you and on your people and on your ancestral house such days as have not come since the day that Ephraim departed from Judah’.” 32 See G. Knoppers, Two Nations under God: The Deuteronomic History of Solomon and the Dual Monarchies, Volume 1 en 2 (Harvard Semitic Monographs 52–53), Harvard 1993– 1994. Knoppers dates the Deuteronomistic history to the time of Josiah’s reformation and thinks that the writers were attempting to legitimize this reformation. By giving Jeroboam the same chance as David, the Deuteronomistic redactor makes Israel fully responsible for its own history. Thus, the bad ending that became Israel cannot be blamed upon the Davidides, but forms a warning for Judah and for David’s son who holds the throne in Judah. See the conclusion in part 1, 222–223.

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As is observed more often with the early prophets, the story revolves around the question: who is the sender/destinateur? Who ‘makes’ history? Rehoboam thinks he himself is in the position to appropriate the kingship, while the people, speaking in modern terms, are thinking along the lines of a ‘social contract’: “What part do we have in David?” (1 Kgs 12:16). The people are under the impression that they have full authority to assign kingship to whomever they want to assign it to. The narrator finally elucidates that YHWH is the sender/destinateur, the one who can turn things around in history. Time There are few time indications in the text. “Three days” comes up in verse 5. In the biblical use of language, this tends to mean that there was one in-between day, possibly due to deliberations. Since it turns out in verse 18 that Rehoboam was still in Shechem at the time that Adoram was stoned, we can suppose that the failed attempt at mediation by Adoram took place on the day itself. There is no mention of the time it took after that until Jeroboam was crowned king and Rehoboam had mobilized his army. Place There are more indications of place in the text than there are of time. In verse 1, Rehoboam moves to Shechem, possibly departing from Jerusalem. Verses 2–18 take place in Shechem, after which Rehoboam hastens back to Jerusalem in verse 18. The external narrator remains in Israel for a longer period, probably in Shechem, informing us that Jeroboam is made king there. Afterwards, the stage is moved in its entirety to Jerusalem, in verse 21. 2.2.3. The level of the story Interventions in the order of time There are few interventions in the order of time in the story. Verse 2, which we placed between brackets, contains a flashback with respect to Jeroboam’s flight to Egypt. Anticipation can be read into verse 8, “he left the counsel of the older men”. The turn of phrase contains a double meaning that heightens the tension. At the surface, the expression can be read as the departure from the company of the elders, but in verse 13 the turn of phrase is

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used once more and it becomes clear that we do not only have to do with a physical, but also with an emotional drift. We find another flashback in verse 15: references are made to the conversation between Jeroboam and Ahijah. In verse 19, we find an expression that can also be taken as anticipation: “Israel has been in rebellion against the house of David to this day”. This is a sentence outside of the story and it seems to be aimed directly at the readers in the far future. Nonetheless, the effect within the story is that all attempts undertaken by Rehoboam to make Israel toe the line again are seen as doomed to fail by the reader. Finally, we find something in the verses 20 and 21 that can be called a fork-construction: two events that possibly took place at the same time are told the one after the other. Tempo There are three ellipses. Firstly, the period between verse 5 and verse 6, between the question of the people and the consultation with the advisors. Then, there are the three days between verse 11 and verse 12; and finally, there is an unknown ellipse between verse 17 and 18, between the return home of the people and the sending of Adoram by Jeroboam. The most frequent tempi are scene (12 verses) and summary (9 verses). The pace quickens towards the end. It raises the suggestion that the scenes carry more weight than the summaries, and are “more dramatic” both in a literal and in a figurative sense. This means that the storyteller is more interested in the interaction between the people and the king and between the prophet and the king than in the question “who will become the next king” or in the (potential) battle. Distribution of representational time The representational time is distributed over the events as follows: 1. 3. 4. 5. 7. 8. 10. 11.

occasion counsel decision of the king prophetic performance I declaration of war mustering flight prophetic performance II

4 6 3 1 1 1 3 3

verses verses verses verse verse verse verses verses

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We can see by this distribution that the narrator is interested mainly in the interaction between the various characters, instead of in the acts of war. No less than nine verses are devoted to deliberations between the king, people and advisors; four verses to the words of the prophets. Only a total of five verses are devoted to the actual acts of war (such as declaration of war, mobilization and escape). Focalizations There are six focalizators in the text. The most important one is the external focalizator (verses 1, 3, 6, 8, 12, 13, 15, 18–22, 24). The five internal focalizators are, in order of appearance: The people of Israel in verse 4 Rehoboam in verse 5, and 6 the old counselors in verse 7 Rehoboam again in verse 9 the young counselors in verse 10 and 11 Rehoboam for the third time in verse 14 The people of Israel again in verse 16 the prophet Shemaiah in verse 23. Effects of focalizations In the first part—the part up until verse 16—the above scheme clearly shows who has the final say: the people. The people set in motion the wheels of history and determine its course. In verse 15 and 16 and in verse 24, it turns out that the external focalizator and the people agree with each other, which narratologically clarifies the disjunction between Rehoboam and the people on the one hand and the disjunction between him and the prophets on the other hand. Irony can be told from verse 10 especially, in which the external focalizator speaks of the “young men who had grown up”. It can also be seen in the phrasing used by the young advisors (in the message formula: “Thus should you say”), in which the narrator drops a hint that the king is nothing more than a messenger boy to his young advisors. The judgment by the narrator and the judgment by the people are identical: the king does not listen. This stands in contrast with the people themselves at the end of the story, for they listen to what Shemaiah (“Thus says YHWH”) has to say. Irony can probably also be detected in the fact that Rehoboam does not pass on the text of his advisors exactly. He does not transmit the coarse macho manner of speaking about the “small thing”, which is

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thicker than the thighs of the father.33 As little tact as Rehoboam has, he at least has sufficient political understanding that he realizes it is not always wise to act according to the one-liner “I say what I think”. 2.2.4. The level of the text Repetition of Repetitions verse 10: verse 11: verse 22:

sounds/play of sounds of sounds can be found in: ‫קטני עבה ממתני אבי‬. This seems to be a play on words. two-fold opposites ‫ אבי‬. . . ‫ואני‬: Rehoboam is opposing his father Salomon. The name ‫( שׁמעיה‬Shemaiah—JHWH has heard) is possibly a allusion to the motif word ‫( שׁמע‬to hear)?

Repetition of words We have found the following motif words in this text: ‫( מלך‬to be/made king) 1, [17], 20 ‫( מלך‬king) [2], 6, 12, 13, 15, 16, 16, 18, 18, 22, 23 ‫( מלוכה‬kingdom) 21 ‫( שׁמע‬to listen) [2], 15, 16, 20, 24 (+name 22 ‫)שׁמעיה‬ ‫( דבר‬to speak/say) 3, 7, 7, 9, 10, 10, 10, 12, 14, 15 ‫( דבר‬word) 6, 7, 9, 15, 16, 22, 24, 24, 24 ‫( בית‬house) 16, 18, 20, 21, 21, 23, 24 ‫( על‬yoke) 4, 9, 10, 11, 11, 14, 14 ‫( קשׁה‬to make/be heavy) 4 ‫( קשׁה‬heavy) 4, 13 ‫( קלל‬to lighten) 4, 9, 10 ‫( עבד‬to serve) 4, 7 ‫( עבדה‬service) 4 ‫( עבד‬servant) 7, 7 ‫( יעץ‬to (take) counsel) 6, 6, 8, 8, 9, 13 ‫( עצה‬counsel) 8, 13, 14 ‫( ילד‬young man) 8, 10, 14 ‫( גדל‬to grow up) 8, 10 ‫( זקן‬older) 6, 8, 13 ‫( שׂוב‬return, come again) 5, 6, 9, 12, 16, 20, 21, 24, 24

33 Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative, 100: “[. . .] wisely deciding not to compound his budgetary harshness by making extravagant public claims about his own stature vis-à-vis that of the deceased Solomon.”

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If – – – – – – –

101

N.B. 5, 12, 24, 24: the people went away/home (qal) 20: Jeroboam returns (qal) 6, 9: Rehoboam says to them (hif il) 16: the people answered the king (hif il) 21: Rehoboam wants to restore the kingdom (hif il) we look well, we see that the story comprises of several opposites: ‫( מלך‬king) ‫( עבד‬servant) ‫( מלוכה‬kingdom) ‫( עבדה‬service) ‫( קשׁה‬to make heavy) ‫( קלל‬to lighten) ‫( שׁמע‬to hear) ‫( דבר‬to speak) ‫( ילד‬young man) ‫( זקן‬older man) ‫( אני‬I = son) ‫( אבי‬father) ‫( בית־דוד‬the house of David) ‫( בית־ישׂראל‬the house of Israel)

On the basis of these motif words, we can sketch the course of the story: Rehoboam is aiming for kingship. The people are willing to offer this to him, on the condition that he is a king who listens to their needs, and/or is willing to lighten their yoke. His old advisors also make clear to Rehoboam that a king should stand at the disposal of his people; only afterwards will a people stands at the disposal of the king. Rehoboam, however, prefers speaking to listening and takes distance from his father Solomon, who had a “an understanding mind” (I Kgs 3:9, literally “a hearing heart”). In this way, a rift came about between the house of David and the house of Israel. The most succinct expression of this entire movement is the many meanings of the word ‫( שׁוב‬to return). Rehoboam is not willing to listen, but only to “to answer the people” (verse 6 and 9, literally “to return a word”). The people turn out to be capable of the same action, and also “return a word” (verse 16) to Rehoboam. The consequence is that Jeroboam “returns” from Egypt and becomes king (verse 20). When Rehoboam subsequently makes an attempt to “restore the kingdom” (verse 21, literally “let return the kingdom”) by means of a battle with the “house of Israel”, a prophet appears and tells the people to “Let everyone return home” (verse 24). The people of Judah finally does what Rehoboam never did: “heeded the word of YHWH, and returned home again, according to the word of YHWH.”34

34 Frisch pointed at the game with ‘return and ‘house’. See Frisch, “Shemaiah the Prophet versus king Rehoboam”.

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Repetition of themes There are no real themes in this story. At the most, we could regard verses 15 and 24 as a repetition: “because it was a turn of affairs brought about by the YHWH” (note that ‘turn’ is a hapax) and “for this thing is from me”. Intertextuality There are several intertextual references in this text a. With respect to the content, there seems to be a reference to 1 Samuel 8. We see in verse 18: “And in that day you will cry out because of your king, whom you have chosen for yourselves; but the Lord will not answer you in that day.” b. Furthermore, in a manner of speaking, the text is a mirror of 2 Samuel 5:1–5, in which David is elected king by the tribes of Israel, with the argument: “The Lord said to you: It is you who shall be shepherd of my people Israel, you who shall be ruler over Israel.” c. The text refers back to the text just before, 1 Kings 11:26–40, in which Ahijah announces the split of the empire to Jeroboam. d. The “hard service” (verse 4) is an ominous turn of phrase, which is otherwise only used for heathen dictators in the Bible. For example for the Pharaoh in Exodus 1:14 and 6:9: Salomon/Rehoboam as Pharaoh? e. A good king has to listen: 1 Kings 3:9: Salomon asks for an “understanding mind” and 1 Kings 11:38, Jeroboam is told to “listen to all I command you”. Rehoboam stands in contrast to this ideal of a good king. f. Verse 16 is a literal quote from 2 Samuel 20:1, the revolt of Sheba against David. As a note, the expression “Everyone to your tents, O Israel!” indicates the ending of the battle. The function of each of these forms of intertextuality is rather different. a and c suggest the fulfillment of a prediction. b, d and e compare Rehoboam to his predecessors: he has not been chosen over all of Israel like David, he is as a Pharaoh who lays a heavy duty on the shoulders of the people, he is not a commander with an understanding mind like Salomon. The quote from 2 Samuel 20 is intriguing: are the people now of the same opinion as Sheba? Sheba did have a right to act like he did, but do the people have the right?

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Metaphors Several metaphors are used in the text. In the first place, the ‘yoke’ (verses 4, 9 and 10). This image is otherwise hardly used in the Old Testament. It appears in Jeremiah 27 and 28, where it refers to the yoke of the king of Babylon. In the same capacity, the concept is known as topos from the Assyrian Royal Inscriptions: vassals ‘pull the yoke’ of the great king. We are also familiar with the image from the myth of Atrahasis, where it is symbolic for the forced labour of the people to the gods.35 The use of this metaphor by the representatives of Israel is meaningful: apparently the king in Jerusalem was not experienced as a king from the own ranks, but as a foreign and repressive great king, almost as someone with superhuman pretences. We already spoke of ‘the little thing’ and the ‘loins’ and the connotation of ‘macho behaviour’. With respect to the beating with whips and ‘scorpions’ (verse 11), one can wonder whether we have to do with a metaphor or with a very harsh reality.36 In the latter case, this expression creates the impression again that Salomon and Rehoboam saw the Israelites as slaves rather than as subjects. This conclusion is confirmed by the Israelites themselves with the last image, that of ‘inheritance’ (verse 16). One does not take part in Jesse’s son. The house of David is not being felt as something familiar and the Israelites give up the illusion that it will ever be on the spot. We shall see in the rest of this study that metaphors are rather scarce in the texts of the books of Kings. In the extrabiblical texts we shall furthermore observe that metaphors can be seen as the trademark of the Assyrian Royal Inscriptions. The use of metaphors in 1 Kings 12 seems to fit in nicely with this observation: Rehoboam behaves like an imperator, who lays a yoke on the shoulders of his subjects and whips them and even behaves like a potentate, with his potent use of language.

35 Streck, Die Bildersprache, 133: Atrachasis I,195: “Create a mortal, that he may bear the yoke”. W.R. Gallagher, Sennacherib’s Campaign to Judah: New Studies (SHANE vol. XVIII), Leiden 1999, 119, points out that this image was initially only used for the service of the people to the gods, but since Sargon II it was also used for the service of subjects to the king. 36 In order to convey the correct understanding: the word ‘scorpion’ is most likely a metaphor. See note 14. The main question here is whether the whipping should be taken literally or figuratively for ‘a repressive regime’.

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Structure Z Rehoboam wants to make himself king (1) A choice: lighten the yoke or we will not serve (4) B “how do you advice to answer?” C counsel older men: 3 x ‘serve’ (7) C’ Rehoboam leaves the counsel of the older men (8) B’ “what do you advice that we (!) answer?” (9) C’ ” counsel young men: 3 x ‘yoke’ (10–11) C” ” Rehoboam leaves the counsel of the older men (13) X king did not listen to the people (15) B” the people answered (16) Y we have no share in David, look now to your own house, O David. (16) A’ Rehoboam sent Adoram/forced labour (18) Y’ Israel in rebellion against the house of David (19) Z’ Jeroboam made king over Israel Z” Rehoboam wants to restore the kingdom (21) Y” Rehoboam assembles the house of Judah and Benjamin (21) Y’ ” to fight against the house of Israel (21) X’ Word of God through Shemaiah (22–23) Y” ” do not fight but return home (24) X’ people listens to the word of YHWH (24) It seems a complex structure. The narrator actually has two things he wants to say and he has molded these two messages into two narrative rounds. However, he has woven these two narrative rounds together. One could speak of a ‘tile construction’.37 The words “to hear” and “house” from the first narrative round (verse 15 and 16) are elaborated on by the narrator in the second round of story telling. With the first round (elements ABC) he works out the theme that a good king serves his people. In the second round, (XYZ), he goes into the theme that a good king not only listens to his people, but above all to God. It is not appropriate to lay a heavy yoke on one’s own people or to commence a battle against fellow citizens. 37 I use the word ‘tile’ here as a short-hand for the term ‘narration in the form of tiles’. With this, I mean that biblical stories sometimes contain a seemingly strange story element, that returns later in the story and fulfills a function there. The two stories are thus connected in the manner of tiles.

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The narrator eloquently uses the psychological fact that people often have mixed feelings. The people express mixed feelings in this story: we want to serve you, but we do not want such a heavy yoke again. Every psychologist is aware that if one wants to help people, one has to start working on their resistance. The older advisors sense this, they “hear” what the people are saying. The narrator conveys this by having the elders literally use the words and feelings of the people: verse 7 if you will be today (‫)היום‬ a servant (‫ )עבד‬of this people and serve them (‫)ועבדתם‬ and speak good words to them when you answer them, then they will be your servants (‫ )עבדים‬n all days (‫)כל־הימים‬ These counsellors do not mention the yoke and present the trade as favourable as possible to Rehoboam: serve them for one day and they will serve you all days. It is possible that he word ‘to serve’, which is repeated three times by the older counsellors, and the word ‘yoke’, which is repeated three times in the speech of the young counsellors, correspond to three days. The young counsellors take up the other theme, that of the yoke, and thereby increase resistance: verse 10 Your father made our yoke heavy, But you must lighten it for us ... whereas my father laid on you a heavy yoke, I will add to your yoke. In other words, they advise the king to act even more harshly. If the king follows this advice, the people can draw no other conclusion than that the king did not hear them, and so the resistance escalates into a definitive breach.

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Focalization of the king We have seen that the king—and in this story we refer exclusively to Rehoboam—is focalized in several ways: As king. Here, the large variation of expressions is striking: Rehoboam (1, 3, 12, 18, 21), king Rehoboam (6, 18), the king (12, 13, 15, 16, 16) and lastly: the king of Judah (23). Rehoboam is referred to as ‘Rehoboam’ before his crowning, although not consistently so. God makes clear who Rehoboam is with the words ‘the king’ in the middle part, and in the last part: ‘the king of Judah’ (i.e. not of Israel). As messenger boy. While the older counselors emphasize their humility with respect to the king by making their advice conditional (“If you . . .”), the younger counselors make their king into their messenger boy (“Thus you should say to this people”) . The effect achieved is irony, as well as a certain form of tragedy. As opposite of Salomon. Rehoboam is the king who does not listen (15, 16) and he is therefore the opposite of Salomon. Both the people as the narrator focalize the king as such. As someone with bad political insight. He does not hear what the people says (the older counselors do). He subsequently makes the tactical blunder to send Adoram, i.e. the commander of the forced labour, as a mediator. Finally, he resorts to violence, and unsuccessfully too. He thus has a very limited political intuition. As a king with imperialist intentions. On several occasions, we could tell from Rehoboams metaphors that he apparently saw Israel as conquered land and the Israelites as servants rather than as subjects. The war that he wants to wage against Israel, fits with the image of imperialist ambitions. God himself corrects the Judeans here, by pointing out that the Israelites are not serfs from a province, but “brothers”. Evaluation of the war The war is viewed negatively, with the argument that the battle goes against what has happened by Gods hand, and that it is not appropriate to “fight with your brothers.” Effect of the evaluation of war on that of the king The negative evaluation of the war has an effect on the evaluation of the king. Especially his limited capacity to assess the theopolitical situ-

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ation painfully shines through his behaviour. Thanks to the external focalizations (by the narrator), the reader knows that the separation of Israel entails “a turn by YHWH”, and therefore that Rehoboams operation is doomed to fail. Focalization of the gods In the verses 1–20, God is in the background of the story and does not intervene. It is only thanks to the narrator’s comment that it is “a turn of affairs from YHWH” that we know that God is the destinateur/ sender. Because of this, the drama comes across as an act of which God had long before announced the ending “by Ahijah the Shilonite” (verse 15). In the last scene (verse 21–24), God appears in an acting capacity. He speaks and in this way, he prevents the eruption of a civil war. Relationship between divine and human activity The relationship between the divine and human activity is actually represented in this story as the relationship between plan and execution. The rupture of the empire was a punishment for Salomon’s sins. This evoked and still evokes the theological question whether people do not possess a free will. Smelik points out that according to 2 Kings 14:6, children cannot be punished for the sins of their parents.38 With the story, the writer probably intended to show that although the splitting up of the empire was inevitable, Rehoboam nevertheless played a role in this process. One can also think of Josiah, who could postpone an approaching calamity through his piety according to 2 Kings 22:19–20. The course of history that is inevitable to the narrator from a historic and religious point of view does not exclude the freedom and responsibility of individuals. Theology/ideology of the text Starting our own analysis, we can say that the writer of our text wanted to convey two central thoughts. Firstly, he wanted to show that the important thing is to listen, to obey God. “To hear”, “to return” and “house” were three motif words that we frequently saw in each other’s vicinity. Cohn demonstrated that in the story sequence on Jeroboam (1 Kgs 11–14), the story of the

38

K.A.D. Smelik, 1 Koningen (BvhB), Den Bosch 1993, 74–75.

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man of God (1 Kgs 13) is central. This, too, is a story of hearing and returning. We cannot speculate too much, but the word “to return” has a religious ring to it (‘to convert’) and is also reminiscent of the return from exile. Obedience is required both of the king as of the people in our story. The second central thought relates to the king. The story makes clear that a king should serve his people. Weinfeld wrote an interesting article in response to the opinion of several historians of antiquity, defending his position that the idea that a king should be the servant of his people does not derive from the Greek philosopher-king Antigonos Gonatas (320–239 B.C.), but already existed in the Ancient Near East.39 He refers to 1 Kings 12, and also mentions an even older Babylonian text. Finally, there are a few minor points to mention: for example, the story shows that the northern kingdom should be seen as sister40 nation and that Judah and Israel should therefore not be waging war against each other. These points are explicitly mentioned in the text and are focalized through the external focalizator and through the prophet Shemaiah. A question that is of a less explicit and therefore a more speculative nature is the question what other messages can be found in the text. In his study, Knoppers has shown that the Deuteronomist sees the period of the united kingdom as the ‘normative age’.41 While prophets such as Jeremiah and Isaiah saw the exodus as the benchmark, and the entire history thereafter as moving downhill, the Deuteronomist sees the first half of Salomon’s reign, the empire of peace and the construction of the temple as the zenith peak of the history of Judah and Israel. “History is driven by the religious practices which Israel’s kings observe [. . .] The battles without—of kings against foreign powers—are therefore not as important as the battles within—of the kings against foreign cults and rival Yahwistisch sanctuaries.”42 39 M. Weinfeld, “The King as the Servant of the People: The Source of the Idea”, JJS 33 (1982), 189–194. On p. 193, he writes: “Although Mesopotamian kings are not normally considered to be the servants of their peoples, a Babylonian document from the first millennium B.C.E., entitled, ‘Advice to the Prince’, shows that even there an attempt could be made to bend the monarch to the will of his subjects. A King who does not heed justice, his people will be thrown into chaos and his land will be devastated, (a king) who does not heed his nobles, his life will be cut short, (a king) who does not heed his adviser, his land will rebel against him.” 40 Ironically in English the term ‘sister nation’ is used where Hebrew ( just as Dutch) speaks of ‘brothers’ (Dutch: ‘broedervolk’). 41 Knoppers, Two nations under God, vol. II, 232. 42 Knoppers, Two nations under God, vol. II, 232.

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According to Knoppers, the writers wanted to set Israel’s history as an example to Judah; that is, as a deterring example. In order to achieve this, he had to demonstrate that Israel and Judah were in principle comparable powers. They were “two nations under God”. He also had to show that Jeroboam and Israel had been given the same chances by God as David and Judah. The fact that Israel had the handicap that YHWH’s temple stood in Jerusalem, in all probability did not play a role. In the stories of 1 Kings 11–14, the writer therefore establishes two points of comparison: David and Jeroboam. In the future, all other kings will be compared to them. The last sentence in the first part of Knoppers’ writings is: “By emphasizing that Jeroboam is the deity’s choice to lead Israel and that Jeroboam is provided with the same opportunities as David had, the Deuteronomist fashions a point of comparison, which he can exploit in his narration.” 2.3. 1 Kings 20 2.3.1. Introduction to 1 Kings 20 Translation 1 King Ben-hadad of Aram gathered all his army together; thirty-two kings were with him, along with horses and chariots. He marched against Samaria, laid siege to it, and attacked it. 2 Then he sent messengers into the city to King Ahab of Israel, and said to him: Thus says Ben-hadad: 3 Your silver and gold are mine; your wives and [good]43 sons also are mine.

43 The adjective ‫ טובים‬is absent in the LXX. Also, compare verses 5 and 7. On a different note, there are translations that attach the adjective to ‘wives and sons’ and others that only make it apply to ‘sons’. Most exegetes assume that the word is used appropriately in the above, probably referring to ‘noble sons’, ‘princes’, who were taken along as hostages. This is for example the view of M. Rehm, Das erste Buch der Könige: Ein Kommentar, Echt 1979, 197.

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4 The king of Israel answered, As you say, my lord, O king, I am yours, and all that I have. 5 The messengers came again and said: Thus says Ben-hadad: I sent to you, saying, Deliver to me your silver and gold, your wives and children; 6 nevertheless, I will send my servants to you tomorrow about this time, and they shall search your house and the houses of your servants, and lay hands on whatever pleases them, and take it away.’ 7 Then the king of Israel called all the elders of the land, and said, Look now! See how this man is seeking trouble; for he sent to me for my wives, my children, my silver, and my gold; and I did not refuse him. 8 Then all the elders and all the people said to him, Do not listen or consent. 9 So he said to the messengers of Ben-hadad, Tell my lord the king: All that you first demanded of your servant I will do; but this thing I cannot do.44 44 See C.T. Begg, “This thing I cannot do (1 Kgs 20:9)”, SJOT 2 (1989), 23–27. Begg discusses several interpretations of this verse. What was it that Ahab could not do in his own view? The most important options: 1. it is possible that Ben-hadad initially only demanded the possessions of the king, and mentioned later on that he also intended to take the ‘houses of your servants’ (verse 6) and the possessions of Ahab’s subjects. In this scenario, Ahab would be indicating here that he cannot authorize this. 2. On the basis of the LXX with verse 7: “He sent to for my women and my children. My gold and silver I have not refused him”, the text would have to be changed in such a way that Ben-hadad initially only spoke of silver and gold, then later spoke about women and children, with the latter demand going beyond what Ahab was willing to yield. 3. Most exegetes think that the first question boiled down to a limited paying of

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The messengers left and brought him word again. Ben-hadad sent to him and said, The gods do so to me, and more also, if the dust of Samaria will provide a handful for each of the people who follow me. 11 The king of Israel answered, and said, Tell him: One who puts on armour should not brag like one who takes it off. 12 When Ben-hadad heard this message —now he had been drinking with the kings in the booths— he said to his men, Take your45 positions! And they took their positions against the city. 13 Then a certain prophet came up to King Ahab of Israel and said, Thus says YHWH, Have you seen all this great multitude? Look, I will give it into your hand today; and you shall know that I am the Lord. 10

tribute with which Ahab could buy off destruction, thereby saving his kingship and his honour; while the second demand actually boiled down to plundering and unconditional capitulation. 4. Some exegetes think that Ahab protested against the possibility of espionage entailed by the second demand by Ben-hadad. 5. Begg has his very own interpretation. On the basis of an extrabibilical parallel with the victory stela of the Nubian king Piye (734 B.C.), he comes to the conclusion that Ben-hadad offended Ahab with his extra demand by suggesting that Ahab was fobbing him off with a mere tip. Ahab called this accusation over himself with his quick agreement to the proposed terms. The verb ‫ חפשׁ‬in the pi el (‘to search through’) in verse 6 always has a legal ring to it in the Bible. Ahab felt offended by this suggestion according to Begg. If this interpretation is correct, an interesting contrast arises between Ben-hadad’s distrust here and his trust in Ahab’s loyalty once Ben-hadad is in trouble himself (see the note to verse 31). In a sense, the story revolves around the question to whom Ahab is loyal: to YHWH or to his “brother” Ben-hadad, who was willing to plunder him? 45 The LXX adds χαρα α ‘battering-rams’.

112 14

15

16

17

18

19

20

chapter two Ahab said, By whom? He said, Thus says YHWH, By the young men who serve the district governors.46 Then he said, Who shall begin the battle? He answered, You. Then he mustered the young men who served the district governors, two hundred and thirty-two; after them he mustered all the people of Israel, seven thousand. They went out at noon, while Ben-hadad was drinking himself drunk in the booths, he and the thirty-two kings allied with him. The young men who served the district governors went out first. Ben-hadad had sent out scouts, and they reported to him, and the said: Men have come out from Samaria. He said, If they have come out for peace, take them alive; if they have come out for war, take them alive. But these had already come out of the city: the young men who served the district governors, and the army that followed them. Each killed his man; the Arameans fled and Israel pursued them, but King Ben-hadad of Aram escaped on a horse with the cavalry.

46 The word ‫‘ מדינה‬province’ is striking, because it stems from the Persian time. This word seems to be a clue for a later dating of this story.

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22

23

24

25

26

27

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The king of Israel went out, attacked the horses and chariots, and defeated the Arameans with a great slaughter. Then the prophet approached the king of Israel and said to him, Come, strengthen yourself, and consider well what you have to do; for at the return of the year the king of Aram will come up against you. The servants of the king of Aram said to him, Their gods are gods of the hills, and so they were stronger than we; but let us fight against them in the plain, and surely we shall be stronger than they. Also do this: remove the kings, each from his post, and put commanders in place of them; and muster an army like the army that you have lost, horse for horse, and chariot for chariot; then we will fight against them in the plain, and surely we shall be stronger than they. He heeded their voice, and did so. At the return of the year Ben-hadad mustered the Arameans and went up to Aphek to fight against Israel. After the Israelites had been mustered and provisioned,47 they went out to engage them;

This phrase (only one word in the MT) is absent in the LXX. Würthwein, Die Bücher der Könige, 235, note 13, therefore sees it as a ‘Zusatz’. However, within the story, it is a logical act: they were on their way to Aphek and therefore, they had to make sure they had food for the road. Rehm, Das erste Buch der Könige, 201, moreover points at intertextuality with Josiah. Taking care of food at the time of the crossing of the Jordan can be found in Joshua 1:11, and there are more similarities: the number seven, the falling of the wall, the holy war.

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the people of Israel encamped opposite them like two little flocks of goats, while the Arameans filled the country. 28 A man of God approached and said to the king of Israel, Thus says YHWH: Because the Arameans have said, YHWH is a god of the hills but he is not a god of the valleys, therefore I will give all this great multitude into your hand, and you shall know that I am YHWH. 29 They encamped opposite one another for seven days. Then on the seventh day the battle began; the Israelites killed one hundred thousand Aramean foot-soldiers in one day. 30 The rest fled into the city of Aphek; and the wall fell on twenty-seven thousand men that were left. Ben-hadad also fled, and entered the city to hide. 31 His servants said to him, Look, we have heard that the kings of the house of Israel are loyal48 kings; let us put sackcloth around our waists and ropes on our heads, and go out to the king of Israel; perhaps he will spare your life.

48 See S.J. de Vries, “A reply to G. Gerleman on malkê esed in 1 Kings XX 31”, VT 29 (1979), 359–362. G. Gerleman has argued that ‫ צדק‬has the connotation of ‘full size’ (‘enough, ‘right’) and ‫ חסד‬that of ‘overfull size’ (‘abundant, ‘excessive’, ‘fanatical’) in “Das übervolle Mass: Ein Versuch mit aesaed”, VT 28 (1978), 151–164. On these grounds, he comes to the translation ‘extravagant kings’. De Vries finds this an absurd translation and argues that ‘merciful’ is not adequate. It does not concern a personal characteristic or an attitude, but a formal mentality. The Arameans assume that the Israelite kings stick to the agreements, and possibly remain true to a vassal treaty. This interpretation is convincing, also because it agrees with the theme of ‘servant (vassal) or an equal (brother)?’ Note that the story ends with a covenant (‫)ברית‬.

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32

So they tied sackcloth around their waists, put ropes on their heads, went to the king of Israel, and said, Your servant Ben-hadad says, Please let me live. And he said, Is he still alive? He is my brother. 33 Now the men were watching for an omen; they quickly took it up from him and said, Yes, Ben-hadad is your brother. Then he said, Go and bring him. So Ben-hadad came out to him; and he had him come up into the chariot. 34 Ben-hadad said to him, I will restore the towns that my father took from your father; and you may establish bazaars for yourself in Damascus, as my father did in Samaria. And may I let you go with a covenant.49 So he made a covenant with him and let him go. 35 And a certain member of a company of prophets said to another, At the command YHWH, strike me! But the man refused to strike him. 36 Then he said to him, Because you have not obeyed the voice of YHWH, as soon as you have left me, a lion will kill you. And when he had left him, a lion met him and killed him.

49 This phrase sounds strange, spoken by Ben-hadad. He does not seem to be in a position to ‘let Ahab go’ with a covenant. The critical aparatus of the BHS therefore proposes ‫‘ תשׁלחני‬may you send me away’. However, there is no concrete evidence for this interpretation. Rehm, Das erste Buch der Könige, 201–202, gives an oversight of several solutions that have been thought of. We will come back to this in II.3.4.

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37

Then he found another man and said, Strike me! So the man hit him, striking and wounding him. 38 Then the prophet departed, and waited for the king along the road, disguising himself with a bandage over his eyes. 39 As the king passed by, he cried to the king and said, Your servant went out into the thick of the battle; then a soldier turned and brought a man to me, and said, Guard this man; if he is missing, your life shall be given for his life, or else you shall pay a talent50 of silver. 40 While your servant was busy here and there, he was gone. The king of Israel said to him, So shall your judgement be; you yourself have decided it. 41 Then he quickly took the bandage away from his eyes. The king of Israel recognized him as one of the prophets. 42 Then he said to him, Thus says YHWH, Because you have let the man go who was devoted51 to destruction,52

50

A talent of silver would be approximately 100 times 30 sheqel, the price of a slave. Zie Rehm, Das erste Buch der Könige, 202. The prophet is hinting to Ahab that he is speaking of a ‘highly placed’ person. Ahab does not pick up on the sign. 51 C.H.W. Brekelmans, De erem in het Oude Testament, Nijmegen 1957, 42–53, shows that ‫ חרם‬is a nomen qualitatis and not a nomen actionis. If it were a nomen actionis, this would imply that YHWH had banned Ben-hadad, and nowhere in the Bible is YHWH the subject of ‫חרם‬, at least not in the original meaning of the word. The construction should be read in the same way as, for example ‫הר־הקדשׁ‬. Ergo: “the man who is as someone devoted to destruction to me” or “the man who has been devoted to destruction to me”. Brekelmans shows, from the other Semitic languages that ‫ חרם‬can contain the entire range of meanings from ‘holy’ to ‘taboo’: ‘something that has been put aside’, ‘offering’, ‘sanctuary’, ‘inviolable, ‘taboo’, ‘prohibited’, ‘cursed’. 52 P.D. Stern, “The erem in 1 Kgs 20, 42 as an Exegetical Problem”, Bibl 71 (1990),

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therefore your life shall be for his life, and your people for his people.” ’ The king of Israel set out towards home, resentful and sullen, and came to Samaria

Introduction to the chapter Long calls the text of 1 Kings 20 “a text that is relatively free of disputes about literary unity.”53 But this statement is too optimistic, for Würthwein wrote, on the same text: “Kap. 20 stellt in der heutigen Gestalt eine—nachdtr in Kön eingefügte—Komposition von zwei ursprünglich selbständigen Erzählungen über siegreiche Kämpfe Israels mit den Aramäern dar.”54 In these two separate stories (verses 1–12, 15–21 respectively 26–27, 29–34), the appearance of the prophet has been “eingeschoben” according to Würthwein, and finally, in verse 35–42 we have to do with a “sekundäre Anhang”. “Während vorher das loyale Verhalten des israelitischen Königs positiv beurteilt wurde, wird es hier kritisiert, weil er Ben-Hadad freigelassen hat, der doch Jahwes Bann verfallen gewesen sei.”55 Würthwein thus thinks that the oldest core was composed of only a “alten Kriegserzählungen”, “prächtigen nordisraelitischen Erzählungen” in which the victory was achieved through “kluges Vorgehen des Königs” alone. The prophets in the story

43–47. Stern makes an attempt to understand what is meant with the ban in the context of this text. In his view, it is clear that the ban was not a standard practice and also, that the reference to Deut. 20:16–18 is not of great use, because in the latter text peoples are driven from the promised land. The Arameans do not fall into that category. Stern points at the possibility of ambiguity with ‫ חרם‬II, which means “net”. Combined with the strange word ‫אסר‬, meaning ‘to bind’ as well as ‘to begin’ in verse 14 (‘Who begins the battle’), the strange ropes worn by Ben-hadad’s servants in verse 32 and the intertextual reference to 1 Sam. 15, in which Agag is the ‘man of the ban’, he thinks that the intention of this expression must have been approximately the following: “In letting Ben-hadad go free, Ahab was neglecting his God-given responsibility to clinch, to put an end to the war by the logical means of killing the king. This is symbolized by the Aramean king coming to Ahab dressed in mourning and bringing with him ִ [. . .] The writer did his best to raise cords to be bound in, making him an ‫אסר מלחמה‬ the ghost of Saul by using the word ‫ חרם‬even though the two situations were radically different [. . .] However, unlike Ahab, Saul did violate the ‫ חרם‬in the full sense. Both kings spared an enemy monarch against YHWH’s will.” Says Stern on p. 46. 53 B.O. Long, “Historical narrative and the fictionalizing imagination”, VT 35 (1985), 405–416, especially 405. 54 Würthwein, Die Bücher der Könige, 236. 55 Würthwein, Die Bücher der Könige, 237.

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were introduced into the story at a later date and in their “formelhafte Sprache” the victory is ascribed to YHWH’s help.56 Rehm, on the other hand, finds that the parts about the prophet are “engstens mit ihrer Umgebung verbunden”57 and he therefore thinks that we have to do with two different stories: a story that told how the victory was achieved because of Ben-hadad’s drunkenness, and a story in which it was the prophet who gave tactical directions. We shall take the unity of the text as a working hypothesis. It seems a split of the text can only be made on rather arbitrary grounds: profane versus religious (Würthwein) or drunkenness versus tactics (Rehm). Moreover, Long has shown us that the text as a whole has a nice structure: A Negotiations (Ben-hadad and Ahab) B Battle for Samaria C. Transition: Prophet’s Counsel B’ Battle of Aphek A’ Negotiations (Ben-hadad and Ahab)

vv. 1–11 vv. 12–21 v. 22 vv 23–30 vv. 31–458

Nonetheless, there are various literary-critical and historical problems with the chapter. The main literary-critical issues include the fact that the name ‘Ahab’ does not appear in the story; that 1 Kings 20 and 22 seem to belong together, the one directly following the other in the LXX; and the fact that the moderately positive evaluation of Ahab in this story does not match up with the harsh judgment elsewhere. A difficulty that arises from a historical perspective is the information that Ahab was a loyal ally of Aram against Assyria in his days and moreover, no less or hardly less than Aram in strength, with Aram not being led by Ben-hadad but by Hadadezer in that time. On the basis of a large number of arguments that I shall not lay down here, the general theory is presently that these stories originally related to king Joash (2 Kgs 13:14–25) or to his father Jehoahaz.59 We shall maintain

56

Würthwein, Die Bücher der Könige, 241–242. Rehm, Das erste Buch der Könige, 195. 58 B.O. Long, “Historical narrative and the fictionalizing imagination”, VT 35 (1985), 405–416, especially 406. Notice that he apparently does not consider the final verses 35–43 as part of this text. 59 See S. McKenzie, The Trouble with Kings, 88–90. J. Maxwell Miller contended that it was Jehoahaz, not Joash, “Rest of the Acts of Jehoahaz, 1 Kings 20; 22:1–38”, ZAW 80 (1968), 337–342. Würthwein, Die Bücher der Könige 261 does not believe in 57

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the name ‘Ahab’ in our analysis, but we are thereby not referring to the historical person but to the literary character ‘Ahab’ in the text. 2.3.2. The level of the event Classification of events The story in 1 Kings 20 falls apart in two narrative rounds that we shall call A and B here. It is striking that both narrative rounds are quite complete in their use of the various types of events. Only event 6, divine intervention, does not occur. Narrative round 1. occasion 2. negotiation 3. counsel 4. decision by the king 5. prophetic appearance I 7. declaration of war 8. mustering 9. battle 10. flight 11. prophetic appearance II

A 1 2–6 7–8 9

B 23–25 32–34 31

13–14

28

10–12 15 16–21 20 22

26–27 29 30 35–43

Turn for the better/for the worse The events are an improvement from a military perspective, but from a religious point of view, a turn for the worse takes place. In the military arena, Ahab develops himself from a vassal into an equal (‘brother’) of Ben-hadad. In the religious area, he thereby gives up the ban and brings about his death sentence.

this hypothesis. “Als ‘compilation’ aus verschiedene Ereignissen ist die Erzählung natürlich Produkt einer freien Gestaltung [. . .] Was erzählt wird, ist nicht für einen bestimmten König allein bezeichnend, sonder für den Typ ‘König von Israel’, wie er vom judäischen Standpunkt aus in Erinnerung an zeitweilige Abhängigkeit vom Nordreich gesehen wurde.”

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Actors The most important narrative program is that of Ben-hadad, who wants to humiliate Ahab and conquer Samaria.

gods (verse 10)

servants, horses and chariots

conquering Samaria

Ben-hadad

Ben-hadad

‘mountain god YHWH’, Ahab

As is customary in these stories, he makes a large mistake when he is identifying the destinateur/sender. When it turns out that his goal is not achievable, he adjusts his goal. He places Ahab in the gratifying role of destinateur/sender and changes his goal to making a covenant. Now Ahab in his turn mistakes the identity of the receiver.

Ahab

Covenant

Ben-hadad

Ben-hadad

prophet

Ahab’s vanity is confirmed (‘the kings of the house of Israel are loyal kings’) and he thereby helps to make YHWH disappear from the story. In this way, he makes the battle against Israel and Israel’s God into a trifle, a fight between ‘brothers’. Time The indications of time in the story are the following: nothing is known about the time period of the events told in verse 1; the besiegement may have taken a short while or a long time. From verse 2–25 onwards the story takes place on one day. Because it says “in the afternoon” in verse 16, the negotiations with Ben-hadad will have taken place in the morning; while the thrust out of the city and the battle happened in the afternoon. In verse 26, it says “at the return of the year”. This implies that a year lies between story rounds A and B. The armies stand opposed to each other for seven days according verse 29: on the seventh day the battle at Aphek takes place.

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Place The indications of place in the story are clear; they moreover form an elegant symmetry. 1–15: in and around Samaria 16–25: outside Samaria 26–29: outside Aphek 30–42: in Aphek 43: king returns to Samaria The story starts wit Ben-hadad who lays siege to the city of Samaria, in which Ahab is imprisoned. A thrust out of the city to the outside follows. The second battle takes place outside, on a plain (experts position Aphek on the Golan height) and ends with an escape to the city, a reversal of the roles of Ahab and Ben-hadad. 2.3.3. The level of the story Interventions in the time order We find a fork construction in the verses 12–16. While Ben-hadad “was drinking himself drunk” (verse 12, repeated in verse 16), Ahab is receiving an oracle of encouragement.60 The verses 22–25 can be seen as anticipation. The prediction by the prophet tells us what is going to happen and thereby increases the tension in the story. Verses 27–29 contain another fork construction. While the armies are taking position, another prophetic appearance takes place.61 Verse 42 contains a tension, caused by the mention of the ban. A possible explanation is that these are secondary verses. Another possibility is that it is a retrospective white spot: the ban had not explicitly been spoken of before, although Stern suggests that the prophetic assignment to begin the battle (‫ אסר‬meaning ‘beginning’ as well as ‘binding’) would implicitly entail the divine assignment to actually bind the king.62 60

B.O. Long, “Framing Repetitions in Biblical Historiography”, JBL 106 (1987), 385–399, especially 391: “With this wraparound of images, which is intensified by the incremental change in v 16 (the Arameans have grown to thirty-two kings, and Benhadad is ‘drunk’ [šikkôr]), we are made to view Aram as a great host led by drunkards. One implicitly draws a contrast with Ahab, who in our imagination drinks soberly from an oracle’s cup.” 61 Long, “Framing Repetitions”, 391. 62 See note 9.

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Whichever way, this verse also contains anticipation, because of the prophetic verdict that is waiting to be executed. Tempo We observe an ellipse between verses 4 and 5, for we do not hear what happened in the mean time in the Aramean camp. We can rephrase this observation, saying that the narrator tries to remain within the Israelite camp with his imaginary camera. We therefore hear that messengers return from the Aramean side, but we do not hear what happened at the other side. The narrator does not present himself as omniscient in the first narrative round, but he is omniscient in the second narrative round. In verse 23–25 and verse 31, we hear what happened and what was said at the other side. It is likely that the narrator does this to confirm the prophet’s words. Concerning the rest, we observe the same as in 1 Kings 12: the main tempi are ‘scene’ and ‘summary’. The summarizing parts (17.5 verses) concern the battle, except at the end. Most representational time is spent on the dialogues: 25.5 verses. The battle takes up 9 verses: 4 for the mustering and 5 for the battle itself. Distribution of representational time The representation time has been distributed over the events in the following manner: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11.

occasion negotiation counsel decision by the king prophetic appearance I declaration of war mustering battle flight prophetic appearance II

4 verses 8 verses 3 verses 1 verse 3 verses 3 verses 3 verses 6 verses 2 verses 10 verses

As in 1 Kings 12, we see that the narrator is mainly interested in the interactions between the characters (we also saw this during the discussion of tempo: the tempo of the scene was dominant). The negotiations and the internal counsel (11 verses) and the prophet’s appearance (13 verses) take up more than half of the story. Occasion, mustering,

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battle and escape—the actual acts of war—still make up 15 verses in this story, a rather big part compared to the other stories, but once again a much smaller part than the events ‘negotiation’, ‘counsel’ and ‘prophetic appearance’. Focalizations There are six focalizators in de text: The external focalizator: verses 1, 2, 12, 15–17, 19–21, 25–27, 29, 30, 32, 36–39, 41, 43 Ben-hadad: verses 3, 5, 6, 10, 18, 34 Ahab: verse 4, 7, 9, 11, 14, 32, 33, 40, 43 The older men: verse 8 prophet: verses 13, 14, 21, 22, 28, 35–37, 39–42 Ben-hadad’s servants: verses 23–25, 31–33 Effects of focalizations The focalizations have the following effects: 1. De external focalizator/narrator (Fext) mainly speaks in scenes in which the prophet is also heard of. In scenes 1 (verses 1–12) and 4 (verses 31–34), it is mainly Ahab and Ben-hadad who speak. In 2 (verses 13–25), 3 (verses 26–30) and 5 (verses 35–43), it is mainly the prophet and the narrator who are heard. The narrator and the prophet are hand and glove, as are Ahab and Ben-hadad. The narrator shares the prophet’s focalization. 2. The narrator remains in Ahab’s camp as much as possible. The narrator does not pose as omniscient. If anything, it is the prophet who is omniscient. In verse 22, the prophet shows that he even knows what is going on in the camp of the enemy (compare to Elisha in 2 Kgs 6–7). 3. There is a cross-wise mirror-image between Ben-hadad and Ahab in their respectively military and narrative authority. In scene 1, Ben-hadad has military authority, while Ahab has the last word. It is the exact opposite in scene 4. 4. There are also constant shifts in the way in which Ahab and Benhadad focalize themselves and each other: a. Verses 1–4: Ahab considers himself a ‘servant’ (verse 9) in the face of ‘my lord, O king’ (verse 4). He sees his relationships with Ben-hadad as one between a vassal and his sovereign and is willing to fulfill the obligations that come with such a relationship.

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b. Verses 5–11: It turns out, however, that Ben-hadad does not wish to regard Ahab as a vassal, but as a vulgar enemy that he can plunder (“Look now! See how this man is seeking trouble”). What is very ironic in this context is the role played by the 32 vassals of Ben-hadad that are present. They are supposed to help Ben-hadad but the only help extended by them is getting drunk with him in verse 16. Their uselessness is punished in verse 24 with their demotion to/replacement by governors. This was the usual punishment for rebellious vassals in the Neo-Assyrian foreign policy. The punishment that Ahab deserves is now imposed on these 32 well-behaved vassals. c. Verses 31–32a: Ben-hadad tries to save his skin. It is to be expected after verses 5–11 that Ahab would want to hurt Ben-hadad, who had taken up the position of an enemy before. Ben-hadad tries to pose as a vassal and now calls himself a ‘servant’ of Ahab. d. Verses 32b–34: Ahab, in an incomprehensible and, according to the prophet, a reprehensible mood of ‘loyalty’ (verse 31) goes further than Ben-hadad could have possibly dreamed of. He accepts Ben-hadad, not just as a ‘servant’ but even as a ‘brother’ (verse 32) and grants him a spot on his chariot as if he were a friend and an ally (verse 33). 5. The focalizations of the prophet first of all have a legitimizing effect: support for Ahab. (On the other hand: the expression “and you shall know that I am the Lord” in verse 13 is generally spoken to enemies, which suggests that Ahab is not well aware of the identity of the God that is saving him.) Towards the end, the prophet is critical and judgmental. 2.3.4. The level of the text Repetition of sound/play with sounds Would the name Ahab (‫—)אחאב‬which seems somewhat misplaced in this story—have something to do with his “brother” (‫ )אח‬Ben-hadad and his father (‫ )אב‬at the end of the story? Ahab’s name is comprised of two terms that express a great extent of loyalty and loyalty is the subject of this story. We have not found other examples of repetition of sounds or play with sounds in this text.

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Repetition of words De motif words in this chapter are: ‫( מלך‬king) 1, 1, 2, 4, 4, 6, 9, 11, 12, 13, 16, 20, 21, 22, 24, 28, 31, 31, 31, 32, 38, 39, 39, 40, 41, 43 ‫( עבד‬servant) 6, 6, 9, 12, 23, 31, 32, 39, 40 ‫סוס ורכב‬ 1, 20, 21, 25, 25 (horse and chariot) ‫( מרכבה‬chariot) 33 ‫( לחם‬fight against them) 1, 23, 25 ‫( מלחמה‬battle) 14, 18, 26, 29, 39 ‫( שׁלום‬peace) 18 ‫( שׁלח‬to send) 2, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 17, 34, 34, 42 ‫( שׁוב‬came again/return) 5, 9, 22, 26, 34 ‫( ידע‬to know) 7 (“know and see”) 13 (“and you shall know that I am the Lord” = recognition-formula) 22 (“know and see”) 28 (“and you shall know that I am YHWH” = recognition-formula) ‫( שׁמע‬to listen/hear/obey) 8, 12, 25, 31, 36 ‫( חגר‬to put on/tie around) 11, 32 ‫( נגשׁ‬come up to/to go out/to approach) 13, 22, 28 ‫( נכה‬to attack/to strike) 20, 21, 21, 21, 29, 35, 35, 36, 36, 37, 37, 37 ‫( חזק‬to be strong/strengthen oneself ) 22, 23, 23, 25 ‫( נפשׁ‬to live/to have one’s life spared) 31, 32, 39, 39, 42, 42 ‫( יד‬hand) 6, 13, 28, 42 In this story, too, the motif words add to the structure of the text. First of all, these are the words ‘king’ and ‘servant’, of which we already spoke when we discussed the focalizations. First, Ahab is the servant (vassal) of Ben-hadad, later on in the story the roles are reversed. In the mean time, ironically, Ben-hadad’s servants seem to be of more use to him than the 32 (vassal) kings. As in 1 Kings 12, there is a game to the complementary concepts of ‘ruling’ and ‘serving’. Where

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1 Kings 12 made clear that a king should be the servant of his people, the message of this chapter is that the king of Israel should not show subservience towards other kings, if this subservience intervenes with his subservience to YHWH. The verb to send (‫ )שׁלח‬is also an important verb. In the beginning of the story it refers to the messengers of Ben-hadad that are sent, as well as to the payment of tribute—gold, silver, women, children—that Ben-hadad ‘is sending for’. The last three times that the verb is mentioned, however, it means ‘releasing’: Ahab sends Ben-hadad away with a covenant. These two meanings thus form an ironic reflection of each other: when Ben-hadad ‘sends’ to Ahab, no good things can come of it, while Ahab sends Ben-hadad away in freedom. This motif word is subtly connected to the motif word ‘hand’ in verse 42: “Because you have sent out of your hands the man, who was devoted to destruction” (I now translate very literally) stands in contrast to verse 6: “I will send my servants to you tomorrow about this time, [. . .] and they shall lay hands on whatever pleases them.” Another subtle, ironic repetition of words takes place with the verb (‫‘ )חגר‬to put on armour’. Firstly, it occurs in the beautiful proverb by Ahab (“One who puts on armour should not brag like one who takes it off ”). At the end of the story, something is indeed put on, but it is sackcloth instead of armour. The verb ‘to attack/to hit’ (‫ )נכה‬compares the battle to the judgment by the prophet. As in 1 Kings 12, the motif word ‘to hear’ (‫)שׁמע‬ plays a large role in this story. In life, what matters is who a person listens to. Repetition of themes Two themes that are known from the prophecy appear in this text. a. The recognition-formula in verse 13 and verse 28. This formula seems customary with wars in which the causa belli lies with the enemy—the formula does not occur with wars that were caused by Israel’s disobedience according to the narrator. It is striking, however, that the formula does not apply to the enemy but to the (king of ) Israel here: “and you shall know” rather than “and they shall know”. Although the recognition-formula is also often addressed to the people of Israel, it still always has a moralistic tone and does not appear to be a positive signal with respect to the speaker’s opinion

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of the truthfulness of faith of the person spoken to.63 Does this have to do with Ahab’s godless nature? Compare to 1 Kings 18:37. b. Another theme is the trust in God versus the trust in horse and chariot: verse 1: verse 20: verse 21: verse 25: (verse 33:

Ben-hadad marches with his horses and chariots Ben-hadad escapes on a horse the king of Israel attacks horse and chariot Ben-hadad replaces the horses and chariots that were lost Ahab takes Ben-hadad along in his chariot)

At the beginning and at the end of the first narrative round, a horse and a wagon appear. This begs the question: can horse and chariot rescue after all? At the least, they seem to bring Ben-hadad an opportunity to escape: a horse in the first narrative round, a chariot in the second. In verse 23–25, Ben-hadad’s servants have two arguments why “we shall be stronger than they”. 1) Their god is a mountain god, so we will have to fight in the plain, and 2) horses and chariots should be replaced. This thought is correct from a purely military perspective: in the mountains,64 horses and chariots are useless. Their strength lies in the plain. Theologically (see below under intertextuality), it is a wellknown theme from the world of the prophets: is Israel’s power based on horse and wagon or is it based on YHWH?65

63 Rehm, Das erste Buch der Könige, 198–199, says: “Sie (i.e. the recognition-formula) betrifft sowohl Israeliten wie auch heidnische Völker. Im ersten Fall begegnet sie in Verbindung mit der Feststellung, daß Gott sein Volk durch Verhängung von Strafen, Verleihung von Glück, Züchtigung der Feinde und andere auffallende Taten Beweise seiner Macht erleben läßt. Im zweiten Fall steht sie in Zusammenhang mit der Lehre, daß Gott die Völker wegen ihrer Härte gegen Israel bestraft oder sie Zeugen der Wohltaten sein läßt, die er seinem Volk erweist.” 64 A.G. van Daalen, “ ‘Vertel mij toch al het grote dat Elisa gedaan heeft: 5 Samenhangen binnen de verhalen I Kon. 17–II Kon. 13”, ACEBT 5 (1984), 118–134, especially 123, sees a reference to the stories 1 Kgs. 18 en 19 in the mention of the mountains: YHWH showed that He is God on the Carmel and on the Horeb. 65 Rehm, Das erste Buch der Könige, 200 has a helpful suggestion: the Aramean misunderstanding that YHWH is a mountain god may have something to do with the ‘heights’. Is the author polemizing in an ironical way manner, i.e. in the style ‘that’s what you get, for living on those heights’? In any case, he seems to have wanted to convey: on mountains and in valleys, God is everywhere. Or does ‘mountain’ refer to the ultimate mountain, the Horeb, where the Torah was conceived? In this case, the Arameans had no idea what they were really talking about.

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Is it possible that the horses stand opposed to the “goats” in verse 27? In this perspective, horses stand for the modern Aramean army, and the mountain goats for the type of guerilla war that they are forced to wage with the Israelites despite their modern weaponry. It is striking that in the second narrative round, only foot soldiers are struck. Horse and chariot no longer play a role. Intertextuality We have found the following intertextual references in the text: a. The numbers seven and 7000 are remarkable numbers in this text. They stand in the middle of a network of texts, in which the number seven plays a role: In 1 Kings 18:43 and 44, Elijah’s servant climbs the Carmel seven times. 1 Kings 19:18 speaks of 7000 people that do not bow to Baal. The traditional Jewish exegesis has identified these people as the same 7000 Israelites that are besieged by Ahab in verse 15 of our text.66 In the second battle, the one at Aphek, there is no mention of 7000, but there is a seven-day war (verse 29). The number seven of course plays a role in Joshua 6, the story of the intake of Jericho. We already saw (see note 48) that there are more cross-references to the story from Joshua: the food for the army, the falling of the war, the ban, the gold and silver that Ben-hadad wants to steal but has to be devoted to YHWH in Joshua 6. The number seven also plays a role in the three pilgrim’s festivals (Deut. 16), in which Pesach (the exodus) and Sukkoth (the passage through the desert) each take seven days and in which Shavuoth (the gift of the land/entry) falls seven times seven days after Pesach. This could form the background of the remarkable word “booths” in verse 12 and 16, where one would normally expect the word “tents”. The first narrative round refers to Sukkoth, and the second narrative round to Shavuoth. Joshua 6 turns out to be connected to Shavuoth.67 A story and a festival that have as their focal point that the country has not been taken, but was received from the hand of YHWH. This is why it was devoted to YHWH. The

66 Rehm, Das erste Buch der Könige, 199, points out that Rashi already made this connection. 67 Says K.A. Deurloo, Jozua: Verklaring van een bijbelgedeelte, Kampen 1981, especially 67–78, “Pinksteroogst”.

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people are not free to do what they please, neither with the country nor with king Ben-hadad after he has been captured.68 b. The ban in verse 42 refers to the laws from Leviticus 27:21, 28–29: “Nothing that a person owns that has been devoted to destruction (. . .) for the Lord, be it human or animal, or inherited landholding, may be sold or redeemed; every devoted thing is most holy to the Lord. No human beings who have been devoted to destruction (. . .) can be ransomed; they shall be put to death.” Furthermore, the text seems a direct parallel to 1 Samuel 15, as we already saw. Through this parallel, Ahab is placed in the same category as Saul, a disobedient king. c. Horse and chariot; a network of text also surrounds this couple. We have already seen that these words express the theme ‘on whom/ on what does one place ones trust: on God or on military strength? The most explicit reference can be found in Isaiah 31:1: “Alas for those who go down to Egypt for help and who rely on horses, who trust in chariots because they are many and in horsemen because they are very strong, but who do not look to the Holy One of Israel or consult the Lord!” It is therefore not surprising that we already encountered “horse and chariot” in the important war stories from the Bible. We mention a few, the most important ones: Exodus 14–15 (10*), Judges 4–5 (7*), 1 Kings 22 (5*), 2 Kings 2:11 (a chariot of fire and horses of fire), 2 Kings 2:12 (Elijah is called ‘The chariots of Israel and its horsemen!’ by Elisha), 2 Kings 6–7 (5*), 2 Kings 13:14 (of which our story was most likely originally a part—Elisha is called ‘The chariots of Israel and its horsemen’, here by king Joash) en 2 Kings 18–19 (2*). d. The appearance of the prophet at the end of the story strongly reminds us Nathan’s (2 Sam. 12) and Elisha’s (2 Kings 13:14–19)

68 D. Monshouwer, Markus en drie jaar Torah, Kampen 1983, 165–166, shows that the Shema Israel (‘Listen Israel’) is read in the synagogue liturgy of Sukkoth and that this connects the themes of Sukkoth, the listening to YHWH, the promise of the land and the relationship to other people. The theme of the ‘mountain’ that we spoke of can possibly be fit into this framework. In any case, according to Mk 9:2–13 Petrus thinks of Sukkoth as soon as he meets Moses (Torah) and Elijah (prophets) on a mountain and proposes to make three sukkah’s. In this story, too, there is the theme of ‘hearing/ listening’ (“This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!”) The early Jewish-Christian liturgy also associated the themes of mountain/Torah/hearing/Sukkoth with each other. This is interesting in the context of our text. All the other, more interesting questions about the relationship between these stories and the coming into being of the synagogue service regretfully can hardly be answered and surely, they can not be answered in this study.

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behavior. Ahab judges himself a manner similar to David respectively Joash. e. There seems to be a relationship between the other stories in which disguise plays a role.69 There are three (or five) such stories. First of all: 1 Samuel 28, 1 Kings 20 and 22. In these three stories, the verb ‫חפשׁ‬ (hitpa el), ‘to disguise’, appears. 1 Kings 14 ( Jeroboam’s wife) is also a story on disguise, but in this story a different verb is used. Outside of the Deuteronomistic history, a similar story appears in 2 Chronicles 35 about king Josiah, who disguises himself for the battle with pharaoh Neco. It is interesting to us that this motif of ‘disguise’ also connects Ahab to Saul, the first person who disguises himself in this series of stories. Coggins finally comes to the a conclusion on the theological significance of this literary finding: “Whether the king attempts to disguise himself (so Saul, the king in 1 Kings 22, and Josiah), or whether he requires someone else to disguise herself on his behalf ( Jeroboam), or whether he falls victim to a plot by a prophet in disguise, it is clear that bounds are set to the royal authority; it is God who will determine the course of events, whatever the king may think or attempt to bring about.”70 f. In this structure, the story shows great similarities to 2 Kings 6–7 and 2 Kings 18–19: for example in having two narrative rounds and in the encouraging acts by the prophet. Metaphors A small number of metaphors are used in this text. First of all, we find a hyperbole in verse 10: the dust of Samaria is not sufficient to fill the hands of Ben-hadad’s servants. Then, we find a sentence in verse 11, of which it is assumed that it could have been a proverb: “One who puts on armour should not brag like one who takes it off.” Finally, in a pure sense, only the expression “like two little flocks of goats” in verse 27 is a comparison. It raises the question what this comparison may have meant? The first to go into this question is Brichto. He sees the image of the flocks of goats as an expression of the vulnerability of Israel’s army.71

69

R.J. Coggins, “On Kings and Disguises”, JSOT 50 (1991), 55–62. Coggins, “On Kings and Disguises”, 60. 71 H.C. Brichto, Towards a Grammar of Biblical Poetics: Tales of the Prophets, New York/ Oxford 1992, 173: “The root śf has the sense of ‘bare, naked, exposed,’ hence ‘vulnerable.’ Therefore, the image is of two vulnerably small flocks, or flocks vulnerable to the elements by reason of recent shearing.” 70

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Just as in 1 Kings 12, we cannot deny our impression that the narrator was not fond of metaphors; and, if he makes use of them, he lays them in the mouth of kings. Apparently, in his view, metaphors are just swollen use of language employed by swollen personalities. Structure Scene 172 1 Ben-hadad [marches against Samaria] 2–3 B.: your silver and gold are mine (‫)שׁלח‬ 4 A.: as you say, my lord, O king (‫)ענה‬ 5–6

9

B.: they will lay hands on whatever pleases them (2 x ‫)שׁלח‬ 7 A.: Look now! See how this man is seeking trouble. (‫)שׁלח‬ 8 Elders: Do not listen or consent. A.: repetition of the first offer, refusal of second demand. (‫)שׁלח‬

10 11

B.: Samaria will be destroyed (‫)שׁלח‬ A.: One who puts on armour should not brag like one who takes it off. (‫)ענה‬

12

Ben-hadad puts his men in position against Samaria.

A clear, concentric structure with an escalating conflict. The scene starts with the besiegement of Samaria and ends with the preparation for a battle. In between, three dialogues (each time in the order Ben-hadad— Ahab), with a consultation with the elders in the middle. Scene 2 13–14 Prophet approaches (‫ )נגשׁ‬the king Says: “Have you seen (‫ )ראה‬this great multitude? I will give it into your hand today and you shall know (‫)ידע‬ that I am the Lord. Begin the battle (‫”)מלחמה‬73

72

Long, “Historical narrative”, 406–407 comes to exactly the same structure. Long, “Historical narrative”, 413, comes up with a very peculiar analysis of the structure. He fits both battles into a scheme of ‘preparation, battle, conclusion’, but 73

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chapter two 15–16 mustering and going out (‫ )יצא‬of Israel 17 report to B.: men went out (‫)יצא‬ 18 B.: they went out either (2x ‫ )יצא‬for battle, or for peace: take them alive!

19–21 Israel goes out (‫ )יצא‬and attacks 22–25 Prophet approaches (‫ )נגשׁ‬the king Says: “Know (‫)ידא‬ and see (‫)ראה‬: at the return of the year the king of Aram will return.” The Arameans think: “Their god is a god of the hills. Let us fight them (‫ )לחם‬in the plain.” Again, a clear concentric structure. The scene starts with the speech by the prophet and ends with it. The outcome of the battle is closely related to the question who YHWH is. Is he the sender, the destinateur of history or simply a god “of the hills”? This theme returns at the beginning and at the end. Compared to the last scene, this one is its mirror: this time, Israel takes the initiative, and Ben-hadad stands in the centre. Scene 3 26–27 Ben-hadad musters Aram for battle (‫ )מלחמה‬with Israel the Israelites position themselves opposite of them 28

A man of God approaches (‫)נגשׁ‬ and says: (= a combination of two phrases from scene 2!) “Because the Arameans have said: } = vers 23 YHWH is a god of the hills, } = vers 23 but he is not a god of the valleys (= new element),

has no room left for the speeches of the prophets because of his structure. It is even stranger that he is drawing the verses 22–28 into the battle at Aphek as ‘preparations’, while the verses 22–25 are so evidently the aftermath of the battle at Samaria. See also the arrangement in the MT.

war in the book of kings therefore I will give a great multitude into your hand, and you shall know (‫ )ידע‬that I am YHWH.”

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} = vers 13 } = vers 13

29–30 They camped opposite of one another the battle (‫ )מלחמה‬began the Israelites beat them and Ben-hadad fled. A short scene, with a rather simple structure. It is striking that the two speeches by the prophet have been replaced by one here. Moreover, the prophet is called the “a man of God”. The awkward position of the recognition-formula very clearly comes to the fore here: “Because they think YHWH is a god of the hills, [. . .] therefore you shall know that I am YHWH”. This explicit speech, in the middle of the story, can be considered the kerygma of this story: may the Israelites, in contrast to the Arameans, know for once and for all who YHWH is to them! Scene 4 31 Monologue servants: the kings of Israel are loyal perhaps he will spare your life. 32a They put sackcloth around their waist (ironic reference to vs 11) 32b servants: spare my life. 32c king Israel: Ben-hadad is my brother. 33a servants: Ben-hadad is your brother. 33b king Israel: go and bring him 33b Ben-hadad came out to him and came up to the chariot. 34a Monologue Ben-hadad: I will restore the towns, and may I let you go with a covenant. 34b

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This scene74 comes across as less tightly composed. It does become clear from the composition how Ben-hadad’s servants are the ones acting in the first part, while Ben-hadad himself takes initiative in the second part. The victor Ahab looses the advantage of taking initiative. In my view, there seems no reason to change the sentence “and may I let you go with a covenant” into “and may you let me go with a covenant” or to add the phrase “And Ahab said: may I let you go with a covenant”. Even Long, who tends to favor a literary analysis, wants to read the text in this way, because Ahab is “the only king (. . .) in a position to ‘send away’ another”.75 Thereby, Long takes away the irony of the text; the irony how Ahab lets everything slide away from him here: Ben-hadad, the victory and even the initiative. Although Ahab is indeed the one who is in the position to let Ben-hadad “go with a covenant”, note that it is Ben-hadad himself who presents Ahab with the proposal to embark on this course of action.76 Ben-hadad’s servants are entirely mistaken in their judgment of YHWH (“god of hills”) but not in their judgment of the king of Israel (“loyal”). Scene 5 35a A man from among the company of prophet says: at the command of YHWH strike me! 35b

The man refuses to strike.

36a He said: because you have not obeyed the voice of YHWH, the lion will strike you. 36b

the lion strikes the man.

74 See De Vries, “A reply to G. Gerleman”, 359–362 for an analysis of this scene. This analysis is largely similar to ours. The analysis by Long, “Historical narrative”, 410 is different from the analysis here. 75 Long, “Historical narrative”, 411–412, especially note 8. Firstly, he embezzles the monologue of Ben-hadad’s servants in verse 31, after which he poses that in order to have a balanced structure the last line from Ben-hadad’s monologue should be attributed to Ahab. 76 Comparable to how Asterix as a slave negotiates his own price in Asterix and the Laurel Wreath on the slave market, while the slave trader is forced to watch the scene with increasing bewilderment and despair. The Deuteronomistic redactor must have possessed a Goscinny-like sense of irony.

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He found another man and said: strike me! 37b

the man struck him, striking and wounding him (note: 7 x ‘to strike’ ‫)נכה‬.

--------38–39a He stands before the king, disguised and with a bandage over his eyes, and says: 39b–40a Guard this man, or his life will be given for your life. 40b The king: so your judgment will be, you yourself have decided it 41

He quickly took the bandage away from his eyes 42

Thus says YHWH, because you have let the man go therefore your life shall be for his life, and your people for his people. 43

The king set out towards home, resentful and sullen.

This scene has very complex structure. What is going on, is that the prophet shifts his position twice. He wants to visualize the triangle YHWH—Ahab—Ben-hadad. Just like Nathan in 2 Samuel 12, he does not want to take the position of judge himself—a position that belongs to YHWH. He wants to bring Ahab to the point of looking at his own behavior from YHWH’s perspective in order to evaluate it. Again: exactly like David does in 2 Samuel 12. In order to achieve this, he firstly takes Ben-hadad’s position and forces a ‘another’ (a colleague prophet?) in the position of Ahab. He asks this person to beat him, just like Ahab should have beaten Ben-hadad. When he refuses, a lion carries out the verdict over this act of disobedience. A second man does as the prophet asks, which enables the prophet to take Ahab’s position as someone who did not carry out his task. Ahab does not see the prophet’s intention because of the disguise and indeed decides on his own verdict. The disguise and the fact that it is said in verse 42 form a tile to the stories in 1 Kings 22 and 2 Kings 3, as we shall see.

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chapter two 2.3.5. The theology/ideology of the text

Focalization of the king The king of Israel is portrayed as follows in this chapter: Ahab, the king of Israel (verses 2 en 13) The king of Israel (verses 4, 7, 11, 21, 22, 28, 32, 40, 41, 43) Ahab (verses 14) The king (verses 38, 39) The king is considered with some distance but without disapproval at the beginning of the story. His attitude in scene 1 seems brave. And compared to Rehoboam in 1 Kings 12, he is remarkably good at consulting with the elders. Both the external focalizator and the prophet refrain from any judgment of him, be it positive or negative. Although he is encouraged by the prophet, the victory that is promised to him does not seem to be his own merit, seeing that it has as its goal that he will know that “I am YHWH”. After all, he needs to receive all tactical instructions from the prophet. Obedience to the work of YHWH forms the difference between victory and defeat. At the end of the story, however, it becomes clear in the view of the narrator and the prophet that Ahab is of the same kind as ‘his brother’ Ben-hadad. Ahab’s heart lies with his colleague, and not so much with God or with Israel. A harsh verdict follows. Just like Rehoboam in 1 Kings 12, Ahab is not capable of assessing the true theo-political situation. The portrayal of the king of Aram, Ben-hadad, in our story is not very friendly. Firstly, he shows himself to be a king that is not exactly loyal to the rules of the game in warfare.77 He does not stick to the conditions of surrender that he himself had posed to Ahab. Then, he makes the mistakes of boasting and getting drunk in public, displaying a thirst for power, in which he moreover is assisted by his 32 vassals, equally drunk. After he has fled the city with his tail between his legs, he listens to the strange theology of his servants. The only smart action Ben-hadad undertakes is the way in which he manipulates Ahab to display the loyalty that he himself could not foster.

77

See Würthwein, Die Bücher der Könige, 241.

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Valuation of the war The main question in this war is: Who is God? A god of the hills or YHWH? Ben-hadad mocks YHWH (compare this to 2 Kings 18–19) by presenting his power as local power. The war will turn out in Ahab’s favor, so that the latter shall “know that I am YHWH”. The war itself falls outside of moral categories in this story. Waging war is in itself not admirable or condemnable. In this text, a war is a test case, in which it becomes clear whether an individual trusts God or not, more than it does in other situations. Effect of valuation of the war on that of the king The valuation of the war has an influence on the valuation of the king. Ahab wastes no time in loosing hold on the crowd that is given “into his hand” (verse 13) by God. While the story starts of with the conjunction YHWH—Ahab (more or less born out of necessity due to their common enemy), the conjunction Ahab—Ben-hadad comes up in the story, causing the disjunction YHWH—Ahab to arise. Focalization of the gods How do the various characters focalize YHWH and the gods? Ahab does not mention God even once; his “oracle of encouragement” consists of a proverb; and he does not initiate contact with the prophet. At the end, he does not ask for forgiveness or mediation by the prophet—in contrast with Saul in 1 Samuel 15. The only time that Ben-hadad starts to speak about God/the gods himself, is in verse 10: “The gods do so to me”. Ben-hadad’s servants present YHWH as a “god of the hills”, therefore a god with a limited competence. Finally, the prophet sees God as the sender/destinateur; the one who determines history in the background. God is 1) YHWH, 2) the one who “gives the crowd into the hand” of Ahab and 3) the one who condemns Ahab for his covenant with Ben-hadad. The narrator himself does not have a separate focalization. He follows the version of the prophet. Relationship between divine and human activities No mention is made of direct divine interference. It is striking that the enemy ascribes the victory to the God of Israel, while Ahab says nothing of the kind. The battle itself is described twice, in one or two verses: verse 20/21 and 29.

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Theology/ideology of the text The theology/ideology of the text can be summarized in the following thoughts.78 1. God acts in history, albeit in the background. The motif of disguise shows that things can go differently than a human expects some times.79 2. It is God who gives victories, even though he does not intervene directly. A king is therefore not free to give this ‘gift’ out of their hands again. That which has been won is devoted to God through the ban. 3. Since God is the sender, the destinateur of history, the important thing is to listen to his word. The strength of a human, a king, and a people lies in this word. God is stronger than horse and chariot. The word of God, the prophecy, is to Israel what ‘horses and chariots’ are to the peoples. 4. It turns out that kings are not always the right people to exemplify this faith in YHWH to their people. Their heart and loyalty often lie with things like power and money. They elect their colleague-king over the King of the world; they prefer Realpolitik and reasoning of state over the God of Israel. 5. YHWH is God. His competence extends over more than just a certain area (the mountains). The fact that Aphek lays in the area on the other side of the Jordan may have been encouraging for the audience in exile: YHWH’s working terrain knew no boundaries. 78

A very peculiar view on the text can be found with Brichto, Towards a Grammar of Biblical Poetics, 180. He seems to want to turn everything in the text around. In his view, Ahab is a king who is to be commended in every possible way: he listens to the first two prophets, he beats Ben-hadad and he manages to get very favourable conditions out of the negotiations on Ben-hadad’s release. According to Brichto, the person criticized in this text it is the man of God who appears in the verses 35–43. It is not without reason that the word used is not Elijah, not even “prophet” or “man of God”, but “a certain member of a company of prophets”, a member of the guild in other words. Moreover, nowhere in the story is the usual expression “The word of YHWH came to . . .” used, which functions as a sort of hallmark. Brichto comes up with the strange conclusion that on the one hand, this story’s intention is “to inculcate the ever-manifest power of God and to overawe the simple layman vis-à-vis the prophetic clergy” and on the other hand, “on an intramural prophetic level, to caution that it behooves even prophets not to leap to extreme positions on issues on which their competency is less than assured and the transmission from on high ambiguous or questionable.” 79 Coggins, “On kings and disguises”, 62: “What is really going on in any given sets of events may in fact be disguised; there may be a deeper level of significance than that which appears on the surface; and the way in which frequent use is made of this disguise theme helps us to reinforce that perception.”

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Points 2 and 5 are explicitly present in the text in the form of a handing-over formula and a formula of recognition. The other three points are interpretation. 2.4. 1 Kings 22:1–38 2.4.1. Introduction to 1 Kings 22:1–38 Translation 1 For three years Aram and Israel continued without war. 2 But in the third year King Jehoshaphat of Judah came down to the king of Israel. 3 The king of Israel said to his servants, Do you know that Ramoth-gilead belongs to us, yet we are doing nothing to take it out of the hand of the king of Aram? 4 He said to Jehoshaphat, Will you go with me to battle at Ramoth-gilead? Jehoshaphat replied to the king of Israel, I am as you are; my people are your people, my horses are your horses.80 5 But Jehoshaphat also said to the king of Israel, Inquire today for the word of YHWH.

80

S.J. de Vries, “The three comparisons in 1 Kings 22:4b and its parallel and 2 Kings 3:7b”, VT 39 (1989), 283–306. De Vries deletes Jehoshaphat’s name on the basis of the parallel text in 2 Chron. 18:3 and thinks that this comparison was made by “the king of Israel”, since Jehoshaphat was not yet king at this time. Jehoshaphat first wants to know YHWH’s will. The comparison was also originally shorter according to de Vries. See p. 297: “From the preceding discussion it can be concluded that in 1 Kgs xxii 4b the original Hebrew text placed in the anonymous ‘king of Israel’s’ mouth the following comparison: kamôka kamônî ukecammeka kecammî, intending this as an explanation or justification for his invitation to Jehoshaphat to accompany him to battle at Ramoth-gilead.” I am not impressed by his argument: 1. the reconstruction by means of all kinds of interpretations of the LXX is very complicated 2. De Vries does not go into the connection to 1 Kgs. 20, in which horses play such a large role. 3. I do not perceive tension between Jehoshaphat’s promise that he is solidary with the king of Israel, but that he wants to hear YHWH’s will before. The narrator makes Jehoshaphat look extra noble: if he does not partake, it is not because he does not want to be solidary but because it goes aginst YHWH’s will.

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6

Then the king of Israel gathered the prophets together, about four hundred of them, and said to them, Shall I go to battle against Ramoth-gilead, or shall I refrain? They said, Go up; for the Lord81 will give it into the hand of the king. 7 But Jehoshaphat said, Is there no other prophet of YHWH here of whom we may inquire? 8 The king of Israel said to Jehoshaphat, There is still one other by whom we may inquire of YHWH, Micaiah son of Imlah; but I hate him, for he never prophesies anything favourable about me, but only disaster. Jehoshaphat said, Let the king not say such a thing. 9 Then the king of Israel summoned an officer and said, Bring quickly Micaiah son of Imlah. 10 Now the king of Israel and King Jehoshaphat of Judah were sitting on their thrones, arrayed in their robes,

81 BHS ‫אדני‬. Some manuscripts have ‫יהוה‬. Exegetes proclaim almost unanimously that the 400 prophets were actually prophets of YHWH. Superficially speaking, this is true. See, for example, vers 11 in which Zedekiah says he is speaking on behalf of YHWH. But this statement ignores all the signals of the occurrence of double meanings in the text. For example, the number “400” connects these prophets to the “400 prophets of Ashera” (1 Kgs 18:19) and “your father’s prophets or your mother’s”, to whom Elisha refers Jehoram in 2 Kon. 3:13. It does not come across as a coincidence that this story is full of disguises and that the narrator first has Ahab collect “400 prophets”, then has these prophets use “Lord” instead of “YHWH” and finally, has Jehoshaphat ask them: “Is there no prophet of YHWH here?” This ambiguity relates directly to the central question of the story: when is a prophet actually speaking on YHWH’s behalf ? One of the few exceptions is: J. van Dorp, “Wie zal Ahab verleiden? Over thema en geschiedenis van 1 Koningen 22:1–38”, ACEBT 6 (1985), 70–82, especially note 11 on p. 81. The Van Dorp says the narrator deliberately avoids calling the prophets ‘prophets of YHWH’, because he wants to present them as court prophets, belonging to the king.

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12

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at the threshing-floor at the entrance of the gate of Samaria; and all the prophets were prophesying before them. Zedekiah son of Chenaanah made for himself horns of iron, and he said, Thus says the Lord: With these you shall gore the Arameans until they are destroyed. All the prophets were prophesying the same and saying, Go up to Ramoth-gilead and triumph; YHWH will give it into the hand of the king.

13 The messenger who had gone to summon Micaiah said to him, Look, the words of the prophets with one accord are favourable to the king; let your word be like the word of one of them, and speak favourably. 14 But Micaiah said, As YHWH lives, whatever YHWH says to me, that I will speak. 15 When he had come to the king, the king said to him, Micaiah, shall we go to Ramoth-gilead to battle, or shall we refrain? He answered him, Go up and triumph; YHWH will give it into the hand of the king. 16 But the king said to him, How many times must I make you swear to tell me nothing but the truth in the name of YHWH? 17 Then Micaiah said, I saw all Israel scattered on the mountains, like sheep that have no shepherd; and YHWH said,

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19

20

21

22

chapter two These have no master; let each one go home in peace. The king of Israel said to Jehoshaphat, Did I not tell you that he would not prophesy anything favourable about me, but only disaster? Then Micaiah said, Therefore hear the word of YHWH: I saw YHWH sitting on his throne, with all the host of heaven standing beside him to the right and to the left of him. And YHWH said, Who will entice Ahab, so that he may go up and fall at Ramoth-gilead? Then one said one thing, and another said another, until the82 spirit came forward and stood before YHWH, saying, I will entice him. YHWH asked him, How? He replied, I will go out and be a lying spirit in the mouth of all his prophets. Then YHWH said, You are to entice him, and you shall prevail;

82 V. Hirth, “Der Geist in I Reg 22”, ZAW 101 (1991), 113–114. The use of a definite article is striking here, since most translations including the NRSV use the indefinite article, following the LXX. The critical apparatus of the BHK proposes to interpret it as “the Satan”. Hirth points at Job 1 and 2, but he does not want to emend, even though he ends up with a similar function for the spirit as the Satan in the book of Job. See 114: “ ‘Der Geist’ nun, der hier zum Lügengeist werden will, ist nicht irgendeiner, sondern derselbe, der auch sonst die Propheten ergreift und der die Richter inspirierte. Er ist das übliche Kennzeichen des Ergriffenseins von Jahwe. Dieses Kennzeichen aber erweist sich nun als fragwürdig. Darum behauptet Micaiah gerade nicht, was Zedekia ihm vorwirft, daß der Geist Jahwes von Zedekia gewichen und auf ihn gekommen zei. Er kann als ‘Legitimation’ lediglich darauf verweisen, was er gesehen hat.” Hirth interprets “the spirit” as a sign of enthusiasm or possession, just like one can be “moved by the spirit”. This corresponds to Cohen’s conclusion; Hirth does not refer to him.

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go out and do it. 23 So you see, YHWH has put a lying spirit in the mouth of all these your prophets; YHWH has decreed disaster for you. 24 Then Zedekiah son of Chenaanah came up to Micaiah, slapped him on the cheek, and said, Which way did the spirit of YHWH pass from me to speak to you? 25 Micaiah replied, You will find out on that day when you go in to hide in an inner chamber. 26 The king of Israel then ordered, Take Micaiah, and return him to Amon the governor of the city and to Joash the king’s son, 27 and say, Thus says the king: Put this fellow in prison, and feed him on the bread of oppression and the water of oppression until I come in peace. 28 Micaiah said, If you return in peace, YHWH has not spoken by me.83 And he said, ‘Hear, you peoples, all of you!’84

83 N.G. Cohen, “ ‘‫ בי‬. . . ‫’דבר‬: an ‘enthusiastic’ prophetic formula”, ZAW 99 (1989), 219–232. Cohen thinks that the expression ‘spoken by/in’ refers to the manner in which the prophecy came about, namely through an extatic (she calls it ‘nebiatic’) experience, but also to the correctness of the prophecy. “So too, we suggest, in Jer 5,13, the ‘nebiatic’ state, whether or not genuine is termed ‫רוח‬, while the word ‫דבר‬ seems to be used here as a terminus technicus for genuine enthusiastic possession.” Not every Begeisterde thus speaks on behalf of YHWH. 84 According to the critical apparatus, as well as all kind of exegetes, this phrase is a gloss. They think that a later redactor wanted to connect the story to the book of the prophet Micah and for this reason inserted Mi. 1:2 here. Still, there is a striking amount of similarities with the prophecies in the book Micah; similarities that have as yet gone unexplored and to which no explanation has been found.

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29 So the king of Israel and King Jehoshaphat of Judah went up to Ramoth-gilead. 30 The king of Israel said to Jehoshaphat, Concerning disguising and going85 into battle, you will wear your robes. So the king of Israel disguised himself and went into battle. 31 Now the king of Aram had commanded the thirty-two captains of his chariots, Fight with no one small or great, but only with the king of Israel. 32 When the captains of the chariots saw Jehoshaphat, they said, It is surely the king of Israel. So they turned to fight against him; and Jehoshaphat cried out. 33 When the captains of the chariots saw that it was not the king of Israel, they turned back from pursuing him. 34 But a certain man drew his bow and unknowingly struck the king of Israel between the scale-armour and the breastplate; so he said to the driver of his chariot, Turn around, and carry me out of the army camp,86 for I am wounded.

The phrase ‫ התחפשׁ ובא‬is composed of two forms that can be interpreted either as a perfectum third person, as imperatives or as infinitives. None of these three possibilities results in a correct sentence. The LXX interprets the phrase in the first person, like most translations. I tried to leave the infinitives in the translation. 86 The LXX has ολεμο , which can be translated back as ‫‘( מלחמה‬war’) rather than as ‫( מחנה‬army camp) (MT). See H. Weippert, “Ahab el campeador? Redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zu 1 Kön 22”, Bibl 69 (1988), 457–479, especially 462. She wants to stick to the lectio difficilior, but sees the ‘army camp’ as the own rather than as the Aramean ‘army camp’. She thinks that Ahab was hit by a test shot by one of his own soldiers. “Im eigenen Lager verwundet ein ungezielt abgegebener Probeschuß aus den eigenen Reihen den König schwer, obwohl er bereits in voller Rüstung im Streitwagen steht. Der sterbende König hält den Feinden gegenüber bis zum Abend Stand. Wie der in vielen Liedern besungene spanische Held el Cid, der noch als Toter, in voller Rüstung auf sein Pferd gebunden, seine letzte Schlacht gewann, so erringt auch der namentlich unbekannte israelitische König sterbend seinen letzten Sieg.” 85

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35

The battle grew hot that day, and the king kept staying in his chariot facing the Arameans, until at evening he died; the blood from the wound had flowed into the lap of the chariot. 36 Then about sunset a shout went through the army camp, Every man to his city, and every man to his country! 37 So the king died, and came to Samaria; they buried the king in Samaria. 38 They washed the chariot by the pool of Samaria; the dogs licked up his blood, and the prostitutes washed themselves in it, according to the word of YHWH that he had spoken. Introduction to the chapter Just like in 1 Kings 12, Schenker’s words apply to 1 Kings 22: “Für unsere Perikope sind in den letzten zwei Jahrzehnten mehr als ein halbes Dutzend Untersuchungen erschienen, die fast alle auf den kompositen Charakter der Erzählung schliessen, aber die Bestandteile auf Grund verschiedener Scheidungskriterien verschieden abgrenzen.”87 A short anthology. We start our overview somewhat arbitrarily in 1983. Steck divides our story in two layers in that year; two layers that each give a different answer to the question how one can acknowledge a true prophecy.88 The first layer gives the traditional answer, this being: true prophecy proves to be true, false prophecy does not. The second layer comes with the response that two prophets that contradict each other can both be inspired by YHWH. The first layer (A) encompasses: verse 3, 6, 9 (sic), 13–15a, 17, 24–28a, 34–35a, 36–37 and has as its components: a (nameless) king

87 A. Schenker, “Hauptprobleme der Auslegung des Alten Testaments heute am Beispiel von 1 Kön 22,1–38”, in Metr D. Papandreou (ed.), L’Ancien Testament dans l’église, Chambésy-Genève 1988, 141–150. 88 O.H. Steck, “Bewahrheitungen des Prophetenworts: Uberlieferungsgeschichtliche Skizze zu 1 Könige 22,1–38”, in: H.-G. Geyer, J. Schmidt e.a. (ed.), Wenn nicht jetzt: Aufsätze für Hans-Joachim Kraus zum 65. Geburtstag, Neukirchen-Vluyn 1983, 87–96.

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of Israel wants to undertake a campaign, and asks for the opinion of one prophet and for the opinion of another. The first prophet gets angry and repeats that if the king will return in peace, YHWH will not have spoken through him. Follows the campaign during which the king dies. This answer bears resemblance to Deuteronomy 18:20–22 and Jeremiah 28:9, even though “die Erzählung” reflects “Lehrreflexionen in Prophetenkreisen des Nordreichs”.89 The second layer (B) is formed by the verses 2b, 4, 5, 7, 8, 10, 12, 15, 18–23, 29, 30–33, 36 and has as its elements: the names of both kings; the clothes (compare to the state gowns in verse 10) and the disguise motif; the fight over Ramoth; the earthly and the divine court; and the vision of the deceptive spirit. It is a story that comes to a positive verdict on Jehoshaphat and thus has a Judean background. This layer stems from the period just before the exile. A year later, Würthwein comes to an entirely different reconstruction. He sees a “sagenhafte Kriegserzählung mit märchenhaften Zügen”90 in the verses 2b–4, 29–37, the oldest layer. The theme of the saga is the deceived deceiver. Judah, which suffered greatly because of its more powerful northern brother, told this story with malicious delight (“Schadenfreude”), says Würthwein. In this saga, “wurde eine zweite hineinkomponiert”.91 This second composition is a prophet story, while it also falls apart in three “Schichten”. The theme of the oldest layer (verse 5–9, 13–18, 26–28a) was the simple contrast between good news versus bad news prophets. In the second layer (verse 10–12, 24vv), being moved by the spirit is advanced as a characteristic for the true prophet, to which a nuance is made in the third layer (verse 19–22): false prophets also possess the spirit. For those who still did not get the message, someone introduced verse 23 as “verdeutlichender Zusatz”. “So wächst die alte Sage in die Dimension einer religiösen Lehrerzählung.”92 An entirely different vision is presented by Helga Weippert four years later.93 In her view, we do not have to do with a Judean saga full of “Schadenfreude.” We have to do with a “Grundererzählung”, consisting

89 90 91 92 93

Steck, “Bewahrheitungen des Prophetenworts”, 94. Würthwein, Die Bücher der Könige, 255. Würthwein, Die Bücher der Könige, 257. Würthwein, Die Bücher der Könige, 262. Weippert, “Ahab el campeador?”

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of verses 3a–c, 11a–d, 29a, 34a–35c. Contrary to the views expressed above, this narration is an inspiring Israelite hero story on a king who receives an encouraging oracle from one prophet Zedekiah, but who dies in battle. However, as if he is El Cid himself he continues to fight, more dead than alive. The writer, who was working on a manuscript on the “The wars between Israel and Aram”, subsequently thought that this would have to be taken up in his work. He tied it into the story from 1 Kings 20, but was posed with the problem that the king in the latter story is presented with a bad news prophecy. He therefore adds the verses 1ab, 2a, 6a–37c, so that the king does not heroically die on the battlefield, but quietly at home. Even later, a writer was working on a book on Ahab, and he thought that the king that had not been previously identified might just be Ahab. He adds the verses 35d–38a and 40b. We make another jump in time and in geography, because afterwards a “Josaphat-Rezension” took place in Judah at the end of the era of kings, during which the story became a “theologisches Lehrstück”,94 to be found in the verses 2b, 4a, 10b, 12a–28c, 29a, 30a–33c. This writer knows the book of Deuteronomy, as well as the books Isaiah and Jeremiah and the stories about Elijah, because he intertextually refers to these figures. This writer assigns a name to the Judean king, Jehoshaphat, and thereby places the stereotypically pious king and the stereotypically sinful king Ahab next to each other. At the very end, someone adds the gloss verse 28d.e.95 De Vries has yet another view in 1989. He calls our text a “redactional combination of two originally independent prophet legends featuring the otherwise unknown prophet, Micaiah. The first was composed by Jehuite prophets around 800 B.C., during the period of Hazael’s depredations against Israel and Judah. The second was composed after the fall of Samaria, ca. 700 B.C., and was combined with the first narrative by a pre-Deuteronomistic redactor.”96 He who thinks that

94

Weippert, “Ahab el campeador?”, 466. It is unclear to me why a redactor such as the one of the so-called JosaphatRezension, who is so generous in his use of intertextual references, was unwilling to give the reader a hint in the direction of the related book of Micah. Weippert has to acknowledge that the gloss is “textkritisch relativ gut bezeugt” relative to other glosses. Weippert, “Ahab el campeador?”, 477. 96 De Vries, “The three comparisons”, 300–301. This conclusion is based on his earlier work, namely S.J. de Vries, Prophet against Prophet: The Role of the Micaiah Narrative (1 Kings 22), Grand Rapids 1978. 95

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this reconstruction brings us back to Steck, looses this illusion when he sees which verses are taken as the first layer by De Vries: 2b–9, 15–18, 26–35a, 36–37.97 Within the time period of six years, four studies appeared that regarded the original story as a Judean saga full of Schadenfreude, as an Israelite hero story and as an Israelite prophet story. The dating is as far apart as the ninth century (Weippert) to the seventh (Wurthwein) for the first layer, and for the final editing between 700 B.C. (De Vries) and “late pre-exilic” (Steck). It seems to us that once again, there is but one conclusion we can draw: it is impossible to reconstruct the history of the development of this text based only on the text.98 This does not mean that the investigations are without worth. The remarkably well-written work by Weippert, for example, is impressive because of her literary observational ability. The manner in which she signals tensions in the text as well as intertextual references is very interesting. The problem lies with the explanatory model behind the observations. In our way of thinking, the fact that the question how one can discern real from false prophecies cannot be answered does not necessarily have to mean there are multiple sources. These tensions could also form a part of the narrative set of instruments with which the narrator tries to find a form for the ambiguities, ambivalences and mixed feelings in life. Weippert makes a very sharp and inspiring remark in her article when she writers: “Vielleicht darf man sogar darin eine bewußte Stilisierung erkennen, daß im Himmel der eine dies, der andere das sagt (20 e.f ), während der vierhundertstimmige Prophetenspruch unisono ergeht.”99 If that is indeed what the story wants to say, that the heaven is characterized by a polyphonous and open exchange of thoughts, while one-party-systems

97 In order to make the reading matter easier, I repeat that Stecks first Schicht included: 3, 6, 11, 9 (sic), 13–15a, 17, 24–28a, 34–35a, 36–37. 98 McKenzie, The Trouble with Kings, 91, starts by saying: “Indeed, it is probably impossible to reconstruct the development of this chapter completely” but proceeds to attempt to do so anyway, admittedly with the comment that he is only trying to write down some “broad observations”. This is a characteristic example of a peculiar phenomenon in the historical-critical method. It can almost be called a topos within this school: first, it is stated that a consensus exists on the complexity of the history of the development of the text, after which the author proceeds to write that not one research agrees with the other as to how the text should be split, while the author ends by coming up with a new proposal. Apparently, these researchers all live with the illusion that they can offer the definitive and undisputed analysis. In reality, another tree is placed in the proverbial invisible woods. 99 Weippert, “Ahab el campeador?”, 475–476.

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based on unanimity are the trademark of dictators, would it be such a strange thought to suppose that the Bible writers wanted to make themselves into a spokesman of that polyphony?100 2.4.2. The level of the event Classification of events The number of types of events in this story is relatively small: only five. Note that the type of the verses 5–12 is debatable. One could argue to count these verses as part of the prophetic appearance. Seeing as that emphasis in these verses lies with the conversation between the two kings, we shall consider this event of the type ‘counsel’. Something else that can be called remarkable is the absence of a decision by the king. Especially in this story, a reader could be interested in the question if, and if so, how the various prophecies played a role in the king’s decision. 1. 3. 5. 9. 10.

occasion counsel prophetic appearance I battle flight

1–4 5–12 13–28 29–38 34

Improvement/turn for the worse Everything in this story seems to have a double meaning. Nothing is what it seems in the story and therefore it seems everything can be explained in two ways. This is also true for the question whether the story ends with a victory or with a defeat for Israel. Since Micaiah prophecies that the herd will return “in peace”, albeit without shepherd, we lean towards the interpretation that Israel is victorious over Aram; thanks to Ahab’s behavior that may be called heroic, as the army continues to fight although he is heavily wounded. It is only the king who does not survive the battle. From a religious perspective, the ending of the battle is an execution of the verdict that was declared in 1 Kings 20, although we have to conclude that if it is true that Israel was victorious, this part of the verdict was not executed. 100 Compare to how in the later Jewish tradition as laid down in the Talmud, it was considered essential that all opinions be heard, even that the opinion of the minority was noted down. The majority can also go astray, for is it not written: “You shall not follow a majority in wrongdoing” (Ex. 23:2)? Our story seems to allude to this phrase.

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Actors The—apparently—important narrative program looks as follows:

YHWH

Jehoshaphat, 400 prophets, Zedekiah, Ahab’s disguise

Conquest of Ramoth-gilead

?

Ahab

king of Aram, Micaiah son of Imlah, verdict by YHWH, lying spirit, a lost arrow

In contrast to many other stories, it is striking that YHWH’s position as sender/destinateur is not the topic of debate here. Ahab and Jehoshaphat call upon YHWH’s prophets. The question remains, however, who is the receiver/destinataire? Will Ahab be granted Ramoth or will the city go to someone else? And will that other person be the king of Aram or Ahab’s son? The differences in understanding surrounding these questions form the basic tension in the story. There are two opposite visions; and who is really speaking on behalf of the destinateur/sender YHWH, who is the true and who is the false prophet? Behind this narrative program lies a another, this being YHWH’s verdict as it had been declared in 1 Kings 20:42: “your life shall be for his life”. Ahab is aware of this threat. YHWH’s plan is moreover revealed once again by Micaiah. Ahab thinks he is being too clever for YHWH. If his life can be taken instead of Ben-hadad’s life, then it should be possible to have Jehoshaphat fall instead of himself, Ahab seems to think. This explains the rather strange episode, during which Ahab does not accept Micaiah’s good news prophecy as the truth (verse 16), but proceeds to ignore Micaiah’s subsequent truthful prophecy in his decision-making. Apparently, Ahab recognizes the fact that Micaiah is the true prophet, but he thinks he can outsmart YHWH. In other words: Ahab hears alarm bells when he listens to Micaiah’s prophecy, but he ignores these, because he cannot resist the temptation of a promised victory over Aram.101 101 Also see J.M.M. Roberts, “Does God lie: Divine deceit as a theological problem in Israelite prophetic literature”, in J. Emerton (ed.), Congress volume: Jerusalem (VTS), Leiden 1986, 211–220. Roberts points at the interesting parallel to 2 Kon. 19:10, in

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Time We come across few time indications in the story. The first indication is “after three years”, which refers back to the story in 1 Kings 20. After this, the reader is under the impression that all events up until verse 28 take place in one day. The battle likewise happens on one day. It is not clear from verse 29 how much time passed between the scene at the gate of Samaria and the battle for Ramoth-gilead. At the level of the event, the level on which we are dealing with the names of places that we can look up on a map, we cannot imagine that all of this takes place on the same day. At the level of the story, however, the narrator seems to want to keep the distance between the prophecy and its fulfillment as small as possible, as if they took place on the same day. Verse 36 is really the only indication of time: “then about sunset”.102 Place We also do not come across many indications of place. In verse 2, we hear that Jehoshaphat goes to see the king of Israel. The main part of the story takes place there, in Samaria. Verse 10 moreover explicitly mentions the threshing-floor at the entrance of the gate of Samaria, indicating the public nature of the events. The camera shortly leaves the stage to follow how Micaiah is fetched, but from verse 15 onwards Micaiah joins the king too. The characters move onwards to Ramothgilead in verse 29. The exact location of the battlefield is not mentioned. From the fact that it only says that he “went up to Ramoth-gilead” and not “laid siege to it and from the fact that they fought with horses which Rabshakeh warns Hezekiah not to trust in YHWH, for YHWH will not be able to save Jerusalem, just as other gods cannot save their cities. Roberts writes on p. 216: “The implication is that Yahweh might promise more than he could deliver.” The same thought can be told from Ahab’s disguise: even though YHWH is threatening him with death, Ahab takes the chance that YHWH will not have the power to execute his threat. One could similarly defend the position that in Ahab’s perception YHWH is not the destinateur, but he himself is. Roberts also points at the use of the verbs ‫( פתה‬to deceive, to entice) and ‫( יכל‬to have the power to, to overpower) in 1 Kgs. 22:22 and twice in Jer. 20:7 and 10, respectively. In this latter text, Jeremiah reproaches YHWH for enticeing and overpowering Jeremiah, after which he uses the same exact words for his evil opponents! This parallel provides us with an interesting perspective on our text: not only does the spirit have an open field to entice the prophets, he also receives the promise that he will be capable of doing so. Both terms actually have a violent connotation, sometimes even a sexual-violent connotation—see Ex. 22:16 (MT: Ex. 22:15). In other words, the lying spirit is symbolic for what would be called “irresistable temptation” in modern commercial language. 102 Compare to Gen. 28:11 and (contrast) Josh. 10:12. One can wonder whether the sunset is a metaphor or a narrative element rather than an indication of time.

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and chariots, we can tell that it was not a besiegement but a battle in the open field. In verse 37, Samaria forms the stage of action again. Although it is a public place again—the pool—this time the extra’s are dogs and prostitutes instead of prophets and kings. 2.4.3. The level of the story Interventions in time order Several interventions are made in the time order. Verses 9–14 feature a nice fork construction. Two events that take place at the same time are told the one after the other: Zedekiah’s prophecy (9–12) and the conversation between Micaiah and the messenger (13–14). To our way of thinking, the scene with the 400 prophets and Zedekiah is completely superfluous. The scene does not seem to add information to what we already knew: the prophets prophesize good news. Yet, it seems reasonable to assume that the biblical writers that are otherwise brief had an intention with this ‘slow-down’: the heightening of the tension,103 possibly a reflection of the heavenly court (verse 19) or an intertextual reference to a scene with the ‘false’ prophet Hananiah in Jeremiah 28 or perhaps to show how difficult it is to distinguish a true from a false prophesy? Notice that 400 appear more quickly than the one prophet, Micaiah, son of Imlah: the difference between the royal prophets who eat at Jezebel’s table (1 Kgs 18:19) and a free, independent prophet? We can see Micaiah’s vision in verse 17–23 as a flashback, as Micaiah is recounting something that has happened in the past. Verse 20 can be considered as anticipation—the prediction of Ahab’s fall. Verse 25 refers forward to the fate that will befall Zedekiah. Tempo The story starts with an ellipse of three years. Afther that ellipse the tempo of the scene dominates: it is the pace in 25 verses. Furthermore, the summary tempo is the most frequent: 12 verses. It is remarkable that the battle is once again told in summary form. The representational time keeps pace with the represented time in the beginning (scene). Then follows an ellipse of an unknown length. And the battle is subsequently dealt with shortly (but relatively long in comparison to other stories): 9 verses.

103

Says J. van Dorp, “Wie zal Ahab verleiden?”, 71–72.

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Distribution of representational time The distribution of representational time is as follow: 1. 3. 5. 9. 10.

occasion counsel prophetic appearance I battle flight

4 8 16 9 1

verses verses verses verses verse

What is striking is the amount of representational time that is spent on the prophet’s actions.104 Furthermore, we find the same as in the last two texts: the narrator is interested in the interactions between the characters and not so much in the acts of war. Focalizations In total, there are no less than nine focalizators in this story: The external focalizator: verses 1, 2, 10, 29–38 Ahab: verses 3, 4, 6, 8, 9, 15, 16, 18, 26, 27, 30, 34 Jehoshaphat: verses 4, 5, 7, 8 the 400 prophets: verses 6, 12 Zedekiah: verses 11, 24 Ahab’s messenger: verse 13 Micaiah: verses 14, 15, 17, 19–23, 25, 28 the king of Aram: verse 31 the captains of the chariots: verses 32, 33 The focalizations in this story are mainly internal. Once again, it is remarkable that the battle itself is told through the external focalizator (Fext). Jehoshaphat no longer acts as a focalizator after verse 8. The narrator hardly leaves Israel’s camp and the court. We only hear what is said during the journey in which Micaiah is fetched, and we only hear this after it has been told what has happened at the court. In verse 31–33 we are once informed of what is deliberated in Aram’s camp by the narrator.

104 Brichto, Towards a Grammar of Biblical Poetics, 181, notes: “Of a narrative of 38 verses, the first 27 deal with prophetic preliminaries to the war itself; of the 11 verses dealing with the battle, 25 percent is dialogue, and the 5 verses that tell of the battle focus on how Ahab comes to sustain a critical wound.”

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The focalizations help us to make a categorization of a scene: Scene 1–8 Scene Scene Scene Scene

9–14 15–24 25–28 29–38

Conversation Jehoshaphat-Ahab and the first false prophecy Micaiah is fetched, Zedekiah prophesies Conversation Ahab-Micaiah, prophecies by Micaiah Clash Micaiah and Zedekiah Battle

Effects of focalizations The effect of almost all focalizations is critical or ironic. The external focalizator comes to this critical-ironic insight of Ahab through the way in which he lets this main character speak, as well as through subtle signals to the reader in his own external focalizations. We can for example see this in the way in which he gives us, the readers, signals on who are the real and who are the false prophets. verse 6: verse 6: verse 16:

“the king of Israel gathered the prophets together”(not: “YHWH’s prophets”). “the Lord (not: YHWH) will give it into the hand of the king”. “tell me nothing but the truth!” Ahab does not instruct the 400 prophets in this way. We can also find such signals in the narrator’s choice of words. Such as the number 400 as a reference to the 400 prophets of the Ashera. And by calling the image of the people as a herd with no shepherd dramatic. The reflection of YHWH’s court in Ahab’s court evokes irony as it puts Ahab’s power into perspective.

Finally, the dogs and prostitutes at the end of the story are highly denigratory of Ahab. The four most important focalizators are: Ahab, Jehoshaphat, the 400 prophets + Zedekiah and Micaiah. The main information we have about Jehoshaphat is that he distrusts Ahab (“Let the king not say such a thing”) and his 400 prophets, too (“is there no other prophet?”) About Ahab, we hear that he on the one hand acknowledges Micaiah as a prophet of YHWH (verse 8) and that he speaks the truth (verse 16) and on the other hand hates him because he “never prophesies anything favorable about me, but only disaster.”

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The main debate between Zedekiah/the 400 prophets and Micaiah is: has YHWH spoken through the 400 or not? Who is a false prophet and who is a true prophet (verse 23–24)? The focalizations support the ambiguity and ambivalence that are the themes of the tale. Ahab seems to acknowledge the truth of Micaiah’s prophesies and yet he does not act upon it. In other words: he does not act as would be expected by someone who is familiar with the biblical stories. For the only reason that Ahab takes measures of disguise is in order to outsmart YHWH. Jehoshaphat wants to know what YHWH thinks exactly, but when he has found out, he does not let this knowledge influence his behavior. Micaiah warns Ahab by revealing YHWH’s plan, but in the mean time he does not attempt to prevent Ahab from meeting with his fate. We get the impression that the entire story is a masked ball. False prophets that pretend to be true prophets, a true prophet who starts by pronouncing a false prophesy, a king of Israel who pretends to be a regular fighter, so that it seems as if the king of Judah is the king of Israel. 2.4.4. The level of the text Repetitions of sounds/play with sounds There are no repetitions of sounds nor are their examples of play with sounds in this story. Repetition of words The motif words are:

‫( לחם‬to fight) ‫( מלחמה‬battle) ‫( שׁלום‬peace) ‫( יד‬hand) ‫( סוס‬horse) ‫( רכב‬chariot) ‫( רכב‬charioteer) ‫( מרכבה‬chariot) ‫( דבר‬to speak) ‫( דבר‬word) ‫( אמר‬to say)

31, 32 1, 4, 6, 15, 30, 30, 35 17, 27, 28 3, 6, 12, 15 4, 4 31, 32, 33, 35, 38 34 35 13, 13, 14, 16, 23, 24, 28, 38 5, 13, 13, 13, 19, 38 2, 2, 4, 5, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 (5x), 18, 18, 22, 28, 28, 32, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 39, 39, 40, 42, 42

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‫( פתה‬to entice) ‫( נבא‬to prophesy) ‫( נביא‬prophet) ‫( דרשׁ‬to inquire) ‫( טוב‬good) ‫( רע‬evil) ‫( ישׁב על־כסע‬to sit on the throne) ‫( בגדים‬robes)

20, 21, 22 8, 10, 12, 18 6, 7, 10, 12, 13, 22, 23 5, 7, 8 8, 13, 13, 18 8, 18, 23 10, 19 10, 29

The motif words ‘to speak’ (‫)דבר‬, ‘to say’ (‫ )אמר‬and ‘to prophesy’ (‫)נבא‬ are the words that bring structure to the story. All five scenes in this chapter end with the same theme: what does Micaiah say about Ahab and is YHWH speaking through Micaiah or not? verse 8: For he never prophesies anything favourable about me, but only disaster Jehoshaphat said, Let the king not say such a thing. verse 13/14: Look, the words of the prophets with one accord are favourable to the king; let your word be like the word of one of them, and speak favourably. whatever YHWH says to me, that I will speak. verse 23/24: So you see, YHWH has put a lying spirit in the mouth of all these, your prophets, YHWH has spoken evil over you. Which way did the spirit of YHWH pass from me to speak to you? verse 28: If you return in peace, YHWH has not spoken by me. verse 38: according to the word of YHWH that he had spoken.

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A combination of words that is repeated only once but nevertheless has a very ironic effect is “sitting on their/his thrones” (verse 10 and 19). An ironic reflection between Ahab and Jehoshaphat with all their prophets before them and YHWH with the “host of heaven”. It is a prophetic irony, because it is clear to the narrator at which court history is really determined. The robes or state gowns worn by both kings are equally ironic, as they play a role both in verse 10 and as a disguise in verse 29. Repetition of themes We come across a well-known theme in this text, the handing-over formula: “YHWH gives it into your hand”. We also come across this formula in the verses 6, 12, and 15. The word ‘hand’ is also an intertextual reference to 1 Kings 20, in which ‘hand’ was a motif word. Ahab had “sent Ben-hadad out of his hand” (1 Kgs 20:42, literally translated). Now the story has been set in motion because Ahab notices that Ramoth-gilead belongs to him and “yet we are doing nothing to take it out of the hand of the king of Aram” (verse 3). After this, our theme is repeated thrice: 6

‫ויתן אדני ביד המלך‬

12

‫ונתן יהוה ביד המלך‬

15

‫ונתן יהוה ביד המלך‬

“the Lord will give it into the hand of the king.” “YHWH will give it into the hand of the king.” “YHWH will give it into the hand of the king.”

This handing-over formula that is repeated three times corresponds to the word ‘to entice’, which is also repeated three times, numerically underlining that the prophecies were false. 20 21

‫מי יפתה את־אחאב‬ ‫אני אפתנו‬

‫והייתי רוח שׁקר בפי כל־נבאיו‬ ‫תפתה‬

22

“Who will entice Ahab?” “I will entice him . . . I will be a lying spirit in the mouth of all his prophets “you are to entice him”

Finally, the theme is concluded with a highly ironic variant of the handing-over formula:

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‫“ ונתן יהוה רוח שׁקר בפי כל־נבאיך‬YHWH has put a lying spirit in the mouth of all these your prophets”

We here see that the biblical writers sometimes treated that theme very light-heartedly. They could fit the theme into their story in such a way that the theme in fact turned into its own ironic opposite. It is possible that there is a relationship with other words that appear three times: ‫‘( דרשׁ‬to inquire’, namely of YHWH’s word) and ‫‘( רע‬evil’). Three times, there is mention of inquiring YHWH’s word, three times Micaiah says that YHWH’s word entails evil for Ahab, three times a different story is heard, namely that Ahab will be successful in battle, and three times, the lying spirit who entices Ahab in this story is spoken of. A different, less obvious theme that we come across in this story, is that of horses and chariots. In 1 Kings 20, we came across this theme in the following form: Aram seemed to trust on the superior strength of horses and chariots, against which the “god of the hills” YHWH could impossibly do anything. Horses and chariots were destroyed, except apparently Ahab’s wagon into which he let his “brother” Benhadad. Our story starts with Jehoshaphat’s promise: “I am as you are; my people are your people, my horses are your horses.” This phrase evokes the tension of the question whether the horses and chariots, of Judah this time, will make the difference between defeat and victory. Ironically, the king of Aram assigns the task of looking out for Ahab to his “captains of the chariots”, but they cannot find him, so that Ahab finally dies in his chariot because of an arrow that ran astray. Intertextuality There are so many intertextual references in this text that we can hardly strive for a complete discussion. We already ran into a few examples of intertextuality. First of all, there are references to 1 Kings 20 and 2 Kings 3, two stories that seem to form a triptych with this story. For example, the comparison in verse 4: “I am as you are; my people are your people, my horses are your horses.” This appears to be a reference to 1 Kings 20:42. In the latter verse, it was prophesied that Ahab’s life would fall instead of Ben-hadad’s, and his people would fall instead of Aram. Now that Jehoshaphat says “I am as you are; my people are your people”,

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it creates tension, as the reader wonders whether Jehoshaphat will fall instead of Ahab. Will the fast-change trick with the disguise work? In 2 Kings 3:7, Jehoshaphat will speak the same words. The meaning of this triptych seems to be: showing how what loyalties exist. Ahab is a “soul-mate” (1 Kings 20:42: “your life—literally ‘soul’—shall be for his life”) with his “brother” Ben-hadad. Jehoshaphat shows himself to be loyal towards his Israelite colleague twice. We also came across the horses above in the paragraph on the repetition of themes. In 1 Kings 20, “horses and chariots” was a standing expression that had to do with the question whether a king trusts in his military power or on YHWH. Jehoshaphat only mentions his horses. This summons the question: where are the chariots? Well, these play a role at the end of the story: the chariots turn out not only to be incapable of saving Ahab—he even dies in the chariot. The chariot in which he dies is linked to the wagon into which he let Ben-hadad climb in 1 Kings 20:33 through the single use of the word ‫ מרכבה‬instead of the usual word ‫רכב‬.105 The disguise was a story element in 1 Kings 20, too. There, it was the prophet who disguised himself, now it is the king. It is as if Ahab thinks: if the verdict is brought to me by a disguised prophet, I can escape the verdict as a disguised king.106 A small detail is the number 32 in verse 31. In 1 Kings 20, the king of Aram first had 32 “kings” (vassals), who he downgraded to and/ or replaced by 32 viceroys after the first defeat. One is almost under the impression that the poor men were relegated once again after the second defeat, this time to “captains of the chariots”. Or could 32 have been Ben-hadad’s lucky number? Furthermore, there are references to the stories on Elijah and Elisha. We have already memorized the number 400 in verse 6 as a reference

105 Notice how Weippert again makes some sharp observations here, but again uses the explanatory model of several different sources. Weippert, “Ahab el campeador?”, 465: “Wichtig ist für unsere Fragestellung, daß sich mit 35d und 38a–c ein neuer Autor zu Wort meldet. Daß dies der Fall ist, verrät auch das von ihm für den königlichen Streitwagen gebrauchte rekeb (35d.38a), für den die Grunderzählung das Wort merkaba verwendet hatte.” In 1 Kings 20, ‫מרכבה‬, however, also appears just once, in a text in which the word ‫ רכב‬is used many times, while historical critics do not think we have to do with several layers. Is not more logical to search for a different explanation for the remarkable switch in the use of words? For example that these two chariots refer to each other. The royal wagon, onto which Ahab “brotherly” lets Ben-hadad, is the same as the one in which Ahab now dies. 106 Coggins, “On Kings and Disguises”.

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to the prophets of Ashera in 1 Kings 18. According to Weippert, this reference suggests an association of Micaiah son of Imlah with Elijah en Elisha. The 400 prophets of Ashera “who eat at Jezebel’s table” (1 Kgs 18:19) and the speed with which the 400 prophets stand prepared also suggests their presence at the court. Micaiah stands out positively as an independent prophet, as “Einzelgänger”.107 Weippert does not point this out, but in our view “the bread of oppression and the water of oppression” that Micaiah is given to eat in verse 27 in prison are an ironic mirror of the king’s table. Elijah, too, makes himself known as an loner in 2 Kings 3 when he refers Jehoram to “your father’s prophet’s or to your mother’s.” Micaiah’s statement that he will only speak what YHWH says to him, refers to another solitary individual in Weippert’s view, namely to Balak (Num. 24:13). There are references to other prophets. In the first place, the theme of true and false prophets reminds us of what happens in Jeremiah 28. Zedekiah’s symbolic act is reminiscent of the yoke that is broken by Hananiah, and his stay in prison also connects Micaiah to Jeremiah. The word ‫( שׁקר‬lie) is a word that occurs no less than 34 times in the book of Jeremiah.108 Perhaps the parallel to what happens in Ezekiel 14 is even more interesting. Men that “serve idols” approach Ezekiel. YHWH, through Ezekiel, wonders whether he wants to be advised by such people. YHWH finally comes to the verdict that those “who separate themselves from me, taking their idols into their hearts and placing their iniquity as a stumbling-block before them, and yet come to a prophet to inquire of me by him, I the Lord will answer them myself. I will set my face against them; I will make them a sign and a byword and cut them off from the midst of my people; and you shall know that I am the Lord.” This is very comparable to what Micaiah sees in his vision: YHWH answers someone like Ahab, but the latter is blinded so much by the idols in his heart that the answer will turn against him effortlessly and will destroy him. Roberts says about the connection between our text and Ezekiel 14: “In both cases an unrepentant king or an unrepentant people inquired

107

Weippert, “Ahab el campeador?”, 467. H. Rouillard, “Royauté céleste et royauté terrestre en I R 22”, in: M. Philonenko, Le Trône de Dieu, Tübingen 1993, 100–107, especially 107: “Si le cadre du trône et de la cour célestes trahissent nettement une influence littéraire isaïenne, la problématique et l’esprit sont jérémiens.” 108

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of Yahweh seeking confirmation and support for their own crooked ways. They received what they sought, a message of reassurance. But that message was as treacherous as the human hearts who sought it. The message of peace was a lie.”109 We also come across the heavenly court in Isaiah 6 and in Job 1 and 2. Verse 28 is a quotation from Micah 1:2. Normally, the commentators see this as a failed attempt by a glossator to make Micaiah son of Imlah seem the same as Micah of Moraseth. One could also approach this differently and see it as an intertextual reference. For there are many parallels between our chapter and the bible book Micah. We mention a few: • Micah 1:7: All images of Samaria shall be beaten to pieces, for as the wages of a prostitute she gathered them. • Micah 2:2: They covet fields, and seize them (compare to 1 Kings 21). • Micah 2:11: If someone were to go about uttering empty falsehoods (‫)רוח ושׁקר‬. • Micah 2:12: I will set them together like sheep in a fold. • Micah 3:4: Then they will cry to the Lord, but he will not answer them. • Micah 3:5–12: Thus says the Lord concerning the prophets who lead my people astray, who cry ‘Peace’ (‫)שׁלום‬, when they have something to eat but declare war (‫ )מלחמה‬against those who put nothing into their mouths: Therefore it shall be night to you, without vision, and darkness to you, without revelation. But as for me, I am filled with power, with the spirit (‫ )רוח‬of the Lord [. . .] Its prophets give oracles for money; yet they lean upon the Lord and say, ‘Surely the Lord is with us! No harm (‫ )רעה‬shall come upon us. • Micah 4:13: for I will make your horn iron. • Micah 6:16: For you have kept the statutes of Omri and all the works of the house of Ahab, and you have followed their counsels. • Micah 7:14: Shepherd your people with your staff, the flock that belongs to you.

109

Roberts, “Does God lie?”, 219.

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It speaks for itself that it is beyond our research question and beyond our possibilities to search for an explanation of these connections.110 At the most, we can say that the connections are so strong that we can conclude that the writer wanted to make clear that both Micaiah and Micah represented the same principles. There are references to texts from the Torah. When Micaiah says that it will become clear that YHWH has not spoken through him if Ahab returns in peace, in verse 28, he uses the criterion given by Deuteronomy 18:21–22 for discerning true from false prophecies. The fact that reality is more complicated than that becomes clear from Deuteronomy 13:1–5, where it says that a prophecy that comes true will still have to be rejected if the conclusion of that prophecy is that one should follow other gods. In the latter case, God is testing his people. This reminds us of what Micaiah sees in his visions in the verses 19–23. A false prophecy can still come from YHWH, if he is testing his people or if he wants to punish them. Apart from the formal criterion—whether a prophecy proves to be true or not—the Bible apparently always put value on the criterion of content: is it a prophecy by YHWH? We find proof that a complicated and ambivalent matter as the present one is not an ‘either-or’ question from the references to the book of Deuteronomy. For this reason, we also think that there is no reason to conclude that there were multiple sources or different rounds of editing on grounds of alleged tensions. In Deuteronomy 13, it explicitly becomes clear that the authors were aware of the fact that both criteria stood at odds with each other and that the content criterion was given more weight than the formal one. Moreover, Micaiah seems to want to apply the criterion from Deuteronomy 18 with the same refinement as Jeremiah does in Jeremiah 28:9: when a prophet prophesies peace, that word shall be acknowledged when that peace has actually come. A doom prophecy moreover has the possibility of being fulfilled through regret.111

110 Especially because the bible book Micah has a very complicated history of development. See J. Wagenaar, Oordeel en Heil: Een onderzoek naar samenhang tussen de heils- en onheilsprofetieën in Micaiah 2–5, Utrecht 1995, 284–290. Wagenaar sees the pre-exilic and early exilic period as a formative period in the process of collecting and editing the prophesies. of Micaiah. From Jer. 26:17 it becomes clear that Micaiah is still a point of reference, a century after his first appearance. 111 Compare to J.M. Hamilton, “Caught in the Nets of Prophecy? The Death of King Ahab and the Character of God”, CBQ 56 (1994), 649–663, especially 656:

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How difficult it is exactly to discern a true from a false prophecy, becomes clear from the story with the motif of the horns with which Zedekiah lets Ahab hit Aram. The false prophet seems well aware of biblical symbolism by using these horns. In Deuteronomy 33:17, Moses blesses the tribes compares Joseph (= Ephraim = the northern kingdom) with a “wild ox” with “horns, with them he gores the people.” Finally, the image of the king as a shepherd for his people is a rather general Ancient Near Eastern image. In any case, Weippert refers to a proverb for verse 17 that says: “A people without a king is like sheep without a shepherd”.112 Metaphors We have not been able to detect many metaphors. Again, this is especially true for the parts in which the external focalizator is speaking. In Micaiah’s prophesy (verse 17), we see the image of “sheep that have no shepherd”. The “lap” of the chariot in verse 35 is figurative of the hollow, convex shape of the chariot. We note that this term (‫ )חיק‬often has a very intimate, often sexual connotation.113 In Ahab’s religious world, which was seen as cheating by the biblical writers, the chariot may be symbolic of the power cherished by Ahab. Ahab, drunk with power feels safe in the lap of the chariot, but it eventually gives birth to a still-born child. Significantly, the prostitutes wash themselves in the water with which the blood has been rinsed from the chariot.

“What are Micaiah and God up to in allowing the king to see into the inner recesses of the heavenly court. If Ahab were truly caught in the nets of prophecy, why should he have this insight into the plan of Yhwh? What purpose could it serve, other than that of giving Ahab one more chance to repent of his rebellion?” 112 Weippert, “Ahab el campeador?”, 468. This proverb can be found in the Assyrische Collectie, a collection of tablets with proverbs from the Middle-Assyrian period. This proverb can be found on two copies, among others on the tablet K 7638. Also see Streck, Die Bildersprache, 168–169, 233 for examples of use of this metaphor in epics. 113 On your lap one holds his children for instance (Ruth 4:16, 1 Kgs. 3:20), a lamb (2 Sam. 12:3). In Num. 11:12 Moses asks YHWH desperately: “Did I give birth to them, that you should say to me, “Carry them in your bosom (or ‘lap’)’ ”? “On your lap” or “on your bosom” has a sexual connotation in for instance: Deut. 28:54, 56. By this we can understand the logic of the lamb in 2 Sam. 12:3 as metaphor for Batsheba and the same expression in 2 Sam. 12:8.

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Structure In the structure of this story, the first thing that is striking is that the number three plays a large role. First of all, it explicitly shows up in verses 1 and 2: for three years there was no war, but in the third year . . . In the structure, we also note that many things occur three times. The question of going to battle is asked three times by Ahab, three times in a different person: verse 4: ‫התלך למלחמה‬ verse 6: ‫האלך למלחמה‬ verse 15: ‫הנלך במלחמה‬

“Will you go to battle? “Shall I go to battle?” “Shall we go to battle?”

A nice grammatical exercise for first-year students of Hebrew. This question led to a ‫“ דרשׁ־נא את־דבר יהוה‬inquire (for the word of ) YHWH” that is repeated three times in verse 5, 7, and 8. The answer to this question comes from a threefold prophecy by the 400 prophets and Zedekiah. In response, Micaiah prophesies three times. A handing-over formula that is repeated three times resounds in this total of six prophecies, as we saw in the paragraph on “repetition of themes”, ‫ונתן יהוה ביד המלך‬, “YHWH gives it into the hand of the king”. Strikingly, this formula is heard twice within the three prophecies of the false prophets. The middle one is a symbolic act. The third time that this formula is heard, it is spoken by Micaiah, after which two visions follow that make clear that this handing-over formula was a false prophecy. The six prophecies are thus connected to each other as two tiles would be connected: false prophet false prophet false prophet handing-over sign formula

Micaiah

Micaiah Micaiah

handing-over handing-over vision formula formula

vision

We already saw the verb “to entice” (‫)פתה‬, repeated three times, making clear that the three prophecies by Micaiah’s colleagues are false. Three times, it is discussed what the status of Micaiah’s prophecy is: good news or bad news prophecy: verse 8: He never prophesies anything favourable about me (‫)טוב‬, but only disaster (‫)רע‬.

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verse 13: Speak favourably (‫)טוב‬. verse 18: Did I not tell you that he would not prophesy anything favourable (‫ )טוב‬about me, but only disaster (‫?)רע‬ In a series of three remarks, it becomes clear what YHWH has tried to say to Ahab through Micaiah’s mouth: verse 14: Whatever YHWH says to me, that I will speak (‫)אדבר‬ verse 16: Tell me nothing but the truth in the name of YHWH (‫)תדבר‬ verse 23: YHWH has decreed disaster for you (‫)דבר‬ The number three continues to dominate at the end of the story. Three times, the Aramean captains of the chariots are spoken of (verse 31, 32, 33). Three times, Ahab’s chariot is mentioned. If we try to fit the entire story into a structure, the following image arises: A 1–3 Three years without war between Aram and Israel B 4 Jehoshaphat: I am as you are C 5–8 First false prophecy/question—is there another prophet?/ yes, he prophecies disaster D 9–11 Symbolic act Zedekiah E 12 Third phase prophecy F 13–14 Conversation messenger-Micaiah: speak favourably G 15 “False prophecy” Micaiah X 16 Ahab: tell me nothing but the truth G’ 17 Second prophecy: vision of the sheep without shepherd F’ 18 Conversation two kings: he does not prophesy anything favourable, only disaster E’ 19–23 Third prophesy Micaiah: vision of the heavenly court D’ 24–25 discussion Zedekiah-Micaiah C’ 26–28 The true prophet goes into prison: no peace! B’ 29–33 Ahab goes in disguise. Nevertheless: Jehoshaphat is not the king of Israel (33) A’ 34–38 The battle grew hot that day

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The interesting thing about this structure is that Ahab is at the center of the structure, with his assignment to speak nothing but the truth. It is the turning point of the story: from this moment onwards only truth will actually spoken: Ahab, Zedekiah, and the 400 prophets show their true colors. Jehoshaphat also shows his true colors, in a way: although Ahab is disguised, the captains of the chariots recognize Jehoshaphat, the king of Aram, and spare him. 2.4.5. The theology/ideology of the text Focalization of the king In the text, Ahab is focalized as follows: Ahab: verse 20. the king of Israel: verses 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 18, 26, 29, 30, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34. the king: verses 6, 8, 12, 13, 15, 15, 15, 16, 27, 35, 37, 37. The king himself announces that he hates Micaiah: verse 8 and verse 18. In verse 26, he even puts him in jail. These facts do not shed a favorable light on Ahab’s conduct. If 1 Kings 22 is the sequel to 1 Kings 20, Ben-hadad has apparently not kept to his covenant with Ahab: contrary to his promise to Ahab (1 Kings 20:34), he has not given all cities back to Ahab. Ahab has been deceived. Ahab finds himself in a deadlock, as he is now isolated with respect to both YHWH and Ben-hadad. He tries to break through this isolation, on the one hand by calling on the help of the pious king Jehoshaphat, on the other hand with his disguise, in the hope that a possible verdict by YHWH will not actually befall him. In verse 30, the narrator suggests that Ahab is deceiving Jehoshaphat. This is not explicitly mentioned. The narrator withholds his own judgment (as is characteristic of the biblical narrative style). For example, verse 34, (Ahab’s flight) may create a cowardly impression, while the fact that he continues to fight until the evening can be seen as brave; but neither of these qualifications are so specified by the narrator. In verse 38, the announcement that the dogs lick Ahab’s blood implicitly contains a very clear judgment. The king is portrayed as an example of religious hybris: he thinks he can be smarter than YHWH. Ahab seems to treat Jehoshaphat as a vassal rather than as a colleague.

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Jehoshaphat is generally just called “Jehoshaphat”: in verse 4, 4, 5, 7, 8, 8, 18, 30, 32, 32. Furthermore: “Jehoshaphat, the king of Judah”: verse 2, 10, 29. Jehoshaphat otherwise remains a flat character. His insistence on consulting the prophecies can be seen as a sign of his piety and integrity. The fact that he then insists on a second opinion is sometimes seen as a sign of his independence with respect to Ahab, but more often as a standard procedure.114 His rather independent behavior at the beginning stands in contrast with his absent role at the end of the story: it seems he let things take their course. Valuation of the war The war in this story is a crisis in the original meaning of that word: a verdict. In the first place, because war seems to be a means of carrying out the verdict decreed over Ahab by YHWH. But at a deeper level, the war is a verdict over all characters here. The various characters are able to show their true face through their attitude with respect to the war. Their story can be expressed in a scheme: TRUTH Jehoshaphat POLITICS (/POLITICAL POWER)

Micaiah opposition

Ahab

RELIGION (/RELIGIOUS LEGITIMATION) Zedekiah+400

LIE/DECEPTION

In other words, the issues at stake are truth and deception, both in the political and in the religious arena. Truth and integrity as well as lies and deception exist in both areas. The story is first set in motion when Ahab needs Jehoshaphat in order to achieve his goal (expressed with “ ” as a symbol for the movement from Ahab to Jehoshaphat). His aspirations lie solely in the area of political power. Jehoshaphat is

114

See Roberts, “Does God lie?”. Robert points out that there are multiple examples from the ancient Near East of asking for a second opinion. The reliability of omina and prophecies was often a problem. There are recovered texts of invocations by priests that beg the gods to hear a reliable oracle. It is known about king Sargon II that he divided his soothsayers in four groups in order to be able to compare the various predictions. In one of the letters form Mari, a woman comes to the king with a dream and ask the king to ask a priest if he can confirm this dream.

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portrayed as a pious and true king. Religion comes to the fore through Jehoshaphat’s request to find out about YHWH’s will. Jehoshaphat thus makes himself dependent on the religious legitimization (symbolized by “ ”). Ahab therefore first of all seeks out representatives of religion that are positioned in the “deceitful side” of the quadrant. These prophets “probably eat from the same table as the king”, and thus need Ahab as much as Ahab needs them. Power and status are temptations that make that people are no longer themselves but start hiding behind masks and disguising themselves. One lie leads to another. Jehoshaphat senses this: he stands diametrically opposed to the 400 prophets in the quadrant, just like Ahab stands diametrically opposed to Micaiah. Ahab explicitly indicates this: “I hate him”. For Micaiah is not corrupted; instead, he is true to himself, he has integrity. This may explain the strange word in verse 34 about the arrow that a man shoots ‫לתמו‬. This word is generally translated as “in his innocence” or “unknowingly”. But ‫ תם‬actually means honest, made out of one piece, true to himself. In a world that resembles a masked ball, in which no one seems themselves any longer, there is one lonely prophet in jail and one fighter that remain true to themselves. The truth will be out, swift as an arrow. A lie is debunked, unmasked. Effect of the valuation of the war on the valuation of the king Does the evaluation of the war have an effect on that of the king? The opposite seems to be true: the starting point of the story is the verdict that has been decreed over the king in 1 Kings 20. The reason that the battle is not negatively evaluated is because it is the execution of a verdict. On the other hand, the story seems to tell that Ahab was actually a last chance, but that he approached his own downfall eyes wide open. This gives the story the feel of a Greek tragedy.115 Focalization of the gods In verse 6 and 12, we hear how the 400 prophets focalize God: “the Lord/YHWH will give it into the hand of the king.” The underlying thought of this may have been that Ben-hadad had made a covenant

115 See Hamilton, “Caught in the Nets of Prophecy?”, 662: “One [sc. conclusion] is that this is a story meant to be understood as tragic. It is not enough to say that Ahab meets his just fate (though the narrative does say that); it must also be said that Ahab meets a just fate as a result of his intransigence.”

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with Ahab in 1 Kings 20, in which they had agreed that he would return the cities to Ahab. If this covenant was seen as lawful, it was logical in the Ancient Near Eastern perception that God would support this law and would thus give Ramoth-gilead into Ahab’s hand. Moreover: if Ramoth-gilead belongs to Israel, it is in any case logical in the Ancient Near Eastern theology that the national deity will do anything within his power to re-conquer the national property. Micaiah pretends he agrees with this conclusion in verse 15, but at a later stage he shares a different view. From Micaiah’s vision it becomes clear that he does not perceive YHWH as a God who is bound to Israel’s national interests. It is not a simple task to put into words how YHWH is perceived. In the interesting (systematic-)theological article by Hamilton, he goes into the implications of this story for theological concepts such as Gods omnipotence, his omniscience and his will. He concludes that the story does not give classical answers, but is a typical example of narrative theology. God chooses to let his omnipotence depend on people’s reactions. His omniscience does not imply that he does not allow people a glance at the process of heavenly deliberations so as to enable to make well-founded decisions. And although his will is the execution of the verdict on the one hand, according to Hamilton the story should still be so interpreted that Ahab is actually given a last chance. God prefers conversion and grace. Relationship between divine and human activities Smelik uses the image of a chess match for God’s interaction with Ahab in this story.116 YHWH and Ahab continuously try to outsmart each other. Ahab makes the first move, breaking through an earlier stalemate: he calls upon the help of the pious king Jehoshaphat. YHWH makes the second move, encouraging Ahab’s ambition through lying prophets (in this manner, the verdict can take place). We only hear about this second move in the flashback (verses 19–23). A complication arises in Jehoshaphat’s request for another prophet. Ahab’s counteraction is to pre-emptively disqualify this prophet as a pessimist. Micaiah’s prophecy is an unexpected move. Ahab is temporarily shaken by this unexpected turn of events. “Tell the truth” he tells Micaiah. Micaiah

116

Smelik, 1 Koningen, 149–150.

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then reveals YHWH’s strategy. Still, Ahab has not run out of tricks: he disguises himself. The trick seems successful, because the king of Aram cannot find Ahab. However, an accidental arrow ends the game. Checkmate! Theology/ideology of the text The theology of this text is that while Gods (master-)plan does not overrule human freedom, eventually, it will be too strong. A person can try to be smarter than god, to hide or to disguise himself, but in that case God can also disguise himself in deceptive prophecies. Although the word is only used once, ‫ שׁמע‬hear (verse 19, and again in the ‘gloss’ in verse 28) may just be the key word. The story tells how difficult it is to really listen to God. People prefer to listen to “lying spirits” that “entice” and “overpower”. Ahab and the 400 prophets fall for this trap. When wishful thinking happens, a person’s own dreams can easily become disguised as God’s will. The number of spirits cannot be discerned (the deceptive spirit from YHWH’s spirit) by their number either: 400 prophets may be enticed, while a single prophet is right. “You shall not follow a majority in wrongdoing” (Ex. 23:2). Especially at a time of preparation for war, this warning seems topical for all times: be sure to watch out not to equate Gods will with wishful thinking or gesundenes Volksempfinden too easily. 2.5. 2 Kings 3 2.5.1. Introduction to 2 Kings 3 Translation 1 In the eighteenth year of King Jehoshaphat of Judah, Jehoram son of Ahab became king over Israel in Samaria; he reigned for twelve years. 2 He did what was evil in the sight of YHWH, though not like his father and mother, for he removed the pillar of Baal that his father had made. 3 Nevertheless he clung to the sin of Jeroboam son of Nebat, which he caused Israel to commit; he did not depart from it. 4 Now King Mesha of Moab was a sheep breeder,

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5 6 7

8

9

10

11

12

171

who used to deliver to the king of Israel one hundred thousand lambs, and the wool of one hundred thousand rams. But when Ahab died, the king of Moab rebelled against the king of Israel. So King Jehoram marched out of Samaria at that time and mustered all Israel. As he went he sent word to King Jehoshaphat of Judah, and he said, The king of Moab has rebelled against me; will you go with me to battle against Moab? He answered, I will go up; I am as you are; my people are your people, my horses are your horses. Then he asked, By which way shall we march? Jehoram answered, By the way of the wilderness of Edom. So the king of Israel, the king of Judah, and the king of Edom set out; and when they had made a roundabout march of seven days, there was no water for the army or for the animals that were with them. Then the king of Israel said, Alas! YHWH has summoned us, three kings, only to be handed over to Moab. But Jehoshaphat said, Is there no prophet of YHWH here, through whom we may inquire of YHWH? Then one of the servants of the king of Israel answered, Elisha son of Shaphat, who used to pour water on the hands of Elijah, is here. Jehoshaphat said, The word of YHWH is with him. So the king of Israel and Jehoshaphat and the king of Edom went down to him.

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13 Elisha said to the king of Israel, What have I to do with you? Go to your father’s prophets or to your mother’s. But the king of Israel said to him, No; it is YHWH who has summoned us, three kings, only to be handed over to Moab. 14 Elisha said, As YHWH of hosts lives, before whom I stand, were it not that I have regard for King Jehoshaphat of Judah, I would give you neither a look nor a glance. 15 But get me a musician. And then, while the musician was playing, the hand of YHWH came on him. 16 And he said, Thus says YHWH, Make this valley full of trenches. 17 For thus says YHWH, You shall see neither wind nor rain, but the valley shall be filled with water, so that you shall drink, you, your cattle, and your animals. 18 This is only a trifle in the sight of YHWH, for he will also hand Moab over to you. 19 You shall conquer every fortified city and every choice city; every good tree you shall fell, all springs of water you shall stop up, and every good piece of land you shall ruin with stones. 20 The next day, about the time of the morning offering, suddenly water began to flow from the direction of Edom, until the country was filled with water. 21 When all the Moabites heard that the kings had come up to fight against them, all who were able to put on armour, from the youngest to the oldest, were called out and were drawn up at the frontier. 22 When they rose early in the morning, and the sun shone upon the water, the Moabites saw the water opposite them as red as blood.

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23

They said, This is blood; the kings must have fought together, and killed one another. Now then, Moab, to the spoil!’ 24 But when they came to the camp of Israel, the Israelites rose up and attacked the Moabites, who fled before them; as they entered Moab they continued the attack. 25 The cities they overturned, and on every good piece of land everyone threw a stone, until it was covered; every spring of water they stopped up, and every good tree they felled. Only at Kir-hareseth did the stone walls remain, until the slingers surrounded and attacked it. 26 When the king of Moab saw that the battle was going against him, he took with him seven hundred swordsmen to break through, opposite the king of Edom; but they could not. 27 Then he took his firstborn son who was to succeed him, and offered him as a burnt-offering on the wall. And great wrath came upon Israel, so they withdrew from him and returned to their own land. Introduction to the chapter The 2 Kings 3 story presents historians with quite a number of questions. We will delve into these questions into some depth in chapter 3, since part of the questions arise from the comparison of 2 Kings 3 to the Mesha Stela. Here, we will limit ourselves to mentioning just a few issues.117 The first problem we encounter is that although the text speaks of the king of Edom, there was no king of Edom in Jehoshaphat’s days according to 1 Kings 22:48. This puzzle is relatively easy to solve,

117

For a more elaborate specification of these historical questions, see G. Galil, The Chronology of the Kings of Israel and Judah (SHANE vol. IX), Leiden 1996, 37–44.

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thanks to the additional phrase: “a deputy was king”. In any case, it is more plausible that Edom participated in a joint campaign in this period than in the period after 2 Kings 8:22, when Edom admittedly had a king, but had thereby also escaped Judah’s hegemony.118 Another issue relates to the question whether the two kings mentioned by name are actually the kings that waged this war. The LXX mentions Ahazia as the king of Judah in this story.119 According to Smelik, Jehoshaphat has already died at the time of the campaign.120 This does not necessarily have to be the case if we are to believe that Jehoram already became king while his father Jehoshaphat was still alive and that the death of the latter was around the year 845 B.C.121 While both Jehorams came to office around the year 852/851 B.C., Jehoshaphat would still have been addressed as king, even during the co-regency with his son. It is not very likely this was the case, but neither is it impossible. We encounter larger problems when we compare 2 Kings 3 to the Mesha Stela. The two texts contradict each other on many accounts, for example on the outcome of the war. We shall go into these matters in chapter 3.1 and we shall see that the only way in which we can bring these two stories into agreement with each other, is if we were to assume, like Lemaire, that 2 Kings 3 refers to a campaign from the

118 One could even defend the position that 1 Kgs 22:48 is not only consistent with 2 Kgs 3, but that the text stems from an attempt to harmonize these texts with each other. The question that could arise from studying 2 Kgs 3—this being the question how Edom, which is generally hostile, suddenly marches with Judah and Israel—is pre-emptively answered in 1 Kgs 22:48 by making clear that Edom was subjected to Judah. 119 M. Rehm, Das zweite Buch der Könige: Ein Kommentar, Echt 1982, 43, shows that the background to this comment is most likely a different chronology than the one of the LXX. 120 K.A.D. Smelik, 2 Koningen (BvhB), Den Bosch 1994, 21. 121 It becomes clear from 2 Kgs 8:16 that the Bible writers were also confused with respect to the double appearance of the names of Jehoram and Ahazia, which appeared both in Judah and Israel. The strange construction of Jehoram becoming king of Judah, with an in-between sentence stating that this occurred while Jehoshaphat was the king of Judah, also suggests that the Bible writers were bringing the facts into agreement with each other by postulating this co-regency. We do not know whether such co-regency really existed. It is possible that it was a solution created by the writers for this occasion. For a description of the problems surrounding the names of the kings, see: J.R. Bartlett, “The ‘united’ campaign against Moab in 2 Kings 3:4–27”, in: J. Sawyer and D. Clines (ed.), Midian, Moab and Edom ( JSOTS 24), Sheffield 1983, 135–146.

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period 852–849 B.C.,122 while Mesha is looking back post-840 on how Moab recovered terrain that was occupied by Israel in several phases.123 This recapturing could have started in the time of Ahaziah (of Israel) or of Jehoram, but has probably been finished after Jehu’s coup had taken place. Nevertheless, it is difficult to characterize the story as historical. The facts from the story itself are rather incredible. A detour via the Southern side of the Dead See is a rather large risk from a military perspective.124 Moreover, it is hard to see what benefit this would bring to Israel, seeing that Moab was also fortified along it’s Southern border and Israel’s interests lay in the North. The tidal wave that is mentioned, is a known natural phenomenon in the wadi’s, resulting from violent rainfall in the upper course (a so-called sayl),125 but one would expect that this would have surprised Israel rather than Moab. Moab’s perception of the water (‫ )מים‬that streams from Edom (‫ )אדם‬as red (‫ )אדמים‬as blood (‫)דם‬, closely resembles a literary motive so that it does not come across as historically reliable. Other motives in the story come across as too typical for a historic report: the seven days, the three kings, the small number of place-names, the characters.126 In the area of literary criticism, there is also a large number of theories.127 A model that is often followed is Long’s model. He sees the verses 4–9a and 20–27 as the “original battle account” and the verses 9b–19 as a later addition.128 Würthwein agrees with this view and makes the

122

See Smelik, Converting the Past, 80–83, who mentions 848 as a possible date. See A. Lemaire, “La stela de Mesha et l’histoire de l’ancient Israel”, in: D. Garrone en F. Israel, Storia e Tradizioni di Israele: Scritti in onore di J. Alberto Soggin, Brescia 1991, 143–169, especially 143–144. 124 H.J. Stipp, Elischa—Propheten—Gottesmänner: Die Kompositionsgeschichte des Elischazyklus und verwandte Texte, St Ottilien 1987, goes into the route of the march rather extensively on pp. 103–115. 125 See E. Würthwein, Die Bücher der Könige: 1 Kön. 17–2 Kön. 25 (ATD 11,2), Göttingen 1984, 283. 126 Bartlett, “The ‘united’ campaign”, 136 sums up typical elements: “The three kings, the seven days’ march, the conquering of every city, felling of every tree, stopping up of all the waters—and typical characters—Elisha the model prophet, Jehoshaphat the godly king, the king of Israel as the exponent of unbelief.” 127 Stipp, Elischa, 141–151, wrote a well-organized survey of these. 128 B.O. Long, “2 Kings 3 and genres of prophetic narrative”, VT 23 (1973), 337–348. 123

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distinction between a saga on a campaign of Israel and Judah against Moab (4–9a, 20–27), a prophetic episode (9b–13a, 14–17) and an extension in v. 18–19.129 Stipp calls the verses 6–27 a “compilation”. He thinks that some author added this story to the short note in verse 4–5 on Mesha revolting after Ahab’s death.130 Seeing as that the author handles several matters in the story differently in the verses 6–27 than the Deuteronomistic historian generally does, he thinks that this story was added after the editing by the Deuteronomistic historian. More precisely, he thinks it was added by the same author that added the name Jehoshaphat in 1 Kings 22. Stipp speaks of a Jehoshaphat-edition.131 Others, like Rehm, believe that the story makes the impression of a unity and a composition.132 Once more, we will not occupy ourselves with the literary criticism. On the contrary, we will make use of the literary observations that form the basis of that criticism. Würthwein sums up the reasons why he thinks that the verses 9b–19 stem from other sources than 4–9a, 20–27:133 1. Elisha only appears in the verses 11–19; not before, and not after these. 2. Water has a different function in the verses 11–19 (to quench thirst) than it has in the frame story (to mislead Moab militarily). 3. The origin of the water is different: in the one story it stems from the trenches, in the other from a water flood. 4. Elisha predicts victory in verse 18, while victory is not obtained eventually.

129

Würthwein, Die Bücher der Könige, 281. Stipp, Elischa, 151, in line with this outlook, writes that the “Nebenergebnis” of his research is the statement “Es gibt methodisch kein Recht, II 3, 6–27 und die Mescha-Inschrift einander gegenseitig erläuteren zu lassen. Das Verfahren ist nur für vv 4–5 begründbar.” 131 “Joschafat-Bearbeiting”, see Stipp, Elischa, 365–367. 132 Rehm, Das zweite Buch der Könige, 40. 133 Würthwein, Die Bücher der Könige, 281. 130

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2.5.2. The level of the event Classification of events It is remarkable that almost all elements appear in this short story:

1. 3. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

(annal occasion counsel prophetic appearance I divine intervention declaration of war mustering battle flight

1–3) 4–5 7–12 13–19 20–23 23 6 24–27 24

It is also striking that mustering takes place so early on in the story. It suggests that the prophet’s contribution essentially does not matter to the kings. The decision to go to battle has already been taken. This has a critical or even an ironic effect. Improvement/turn for the worse As was the case in 1 Kings 20 and 22, the question whether the events entail an improvement or a turn for the worse for Israel cannot be answered unambiguously. Israel seems to have won the battle, but nonetheless withdraws after Mesha’s offering of his firstborn son. Just like in the last two stories, the narrator seems to want to distinguish between military success and the moral-religious ‘result’ of human acts. Actors The narrative program is rather straightforward.

YHWH

Jehoshaphat, king of Edom, Elisha, optical illusion: water

submission of Moab

Jehoshaphat

Jehoram

Mesha, “wrath”, Jehoram’s “unbelief ”

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The goal Jehoram strives after is clear. None of the main characters doubts that YHWH is the destinateur. YHWH fights along with Israel in the “old-fashioned” way, via elements of nature (the water is reminiscent of the exodus and of the torrent Kishon in Judg. 5:21). The narrative program seems to reflect the one in 1 Kings 22. Now, it is the king who does not believe in his own mission, and the prophet who conversely promises him victory. Jehoshaphat plays the role of “feeder” to the prophet. Again, the suggestion arises that the Judean kings abide to the prophetic verdict more closely than their Israelite colleagues. Time In verse 6, the story is ‘dated’ with the words “at that time”. In 2 Kings 1:1 it says that Mesha rebelled against Israel directly after Ahab’s death, as it does in our text. Apparently, nothing was undertaken against Mesha for two years, during the short reign of Ahazia. “At that time” probably should be understood as “at the time when Jehoram became king”.134 In verse 7, there is an ellipse of unknown length: it is not recounted how much time Jehoshaphat’s mission took. On the other hand, the time dimension of the campaign itself is described, in verse 9: “seven days”. The miracle with water takes place on the morning of the eighth day, according to the last indication of time in verse 20. Place The indications of place in the story are the following. In verse 1, the story starts with “in Samaria”. In verse 6, Jehoram marches “out of Samaria”. Then, on it goes to “the wilderness of Edom”, in verse 8. De Moabites draw up “at the frontier” in verse 21. De last scene takes place at the walls of the city “Kir-hareset” (verse 25). 2.5.3. The level of the story Interventions in the order of time There are only two interventions in the order of time. In verse 4–5, we come across a flash-back: “when Ahab died”. And the prophecy in verse 17–19 is an anticipation of what is yet to come.

134

Brichto, Towards a Grammar of Biblical Poetics, 203.

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b. Tempo In total, 15 verses are set in the tempo ‘summary’ and 12 in ‘scene’. If we leave the first three out of consideration (the annal-like introduction to Jehoram’s government), the partition is exactly half-half. This corresponds to the usual division. The classification is also rather common: the summary is especially used in the beginning and at the end in order to report on the battle. In the middle, we mainly find the tempo of the scene. The seven-day ellipse after verse 9 is remarkable, as is the ellipse just before, during which the king of Edom apparently is also engaged in the battle (or was it self-evident that a vassal would also partake in the battle?135 Distribution of representational time The distribution of the representational time over the various types of events is as follows:

1. 3. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

(annal occasion counsel prophetic appearance I divine intervention declaration of war mustering battle flight

3 2 6 7 4 1 1 4 1

verses) verses verses verses verses verse verse verses verse

If we leave aside the verses 1–3 again, it is striking that of the 24 actual verses of this chapter, no less than 13 pertain the conversation between the king and Elisha. This conversation literally and figuratively stands at the centre of this story. Something else that is striking, is the lack of a second prophetic appearance. The ‘sanction phase’ of the story is lacking and the reader is left with the question: was there a victory or not? What was the wrath that befell Israel (verse 27)?

135 According to Brichto, Towards a Grammar of Biblical Poetics, 205, we can also speak of an ellipse in verse 10. After reading 1 Kings 22, the reader will have wondered why Jehoshaphat did not ask for an oracle with this campaign. According to Brichto, it becomes clear from the fact that Jehoram blames YHWH for the impending downfall that Jehoram did indeed ask about YHWH’s will, but now assumes that YHWH has misled him through a lying spirit, like he intended to do with Ahab.

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Focalizations In this (short) text, there are no less than eight focalizators. In order of appearance, these are: the external focalizator: verse 1–6, 9, 12, 15, 20–27 Jehoram: verse 7, 8, 10, 13 Jehoshaphat: verse 7, 8, 11, 12 a servant of the king: verse 11 Elisha: verse 13–19 Moab: verse 20–23 Mesha: verse 26 Israel: verse 27 It is striking that it is suggested/stated in as much as four different ways that Jehoram does not think highly of Elisha: 1. the iniative to consult Elisha does not lie with him but with Jehoshaphat 2. he is not the one that chooses Elisha, it is one of his servants 3. not Jehoram, but Jehoshaphat recognizes that “the word of YHWH is with him” [with Elisha] (verse 12) and 4. Elisha explicitly creates distance with respect to Jehoram by saying: “What have I to do with you?” and “were it not that I have regard for king Jehoshaphat of Judah, I would give you neither a look nor a glance”. It is also striking, that after the relatively long prophecy by Elisha, no reaction is recounted either by Jehoram or by Jehoshaphat. The narrator here—more than elsewhere generally—shows himself to be an omniscient narrator: he dwells in Moab’s camp for rather long time. Effects of focalizations Jehoshaphat shows himself to be the opposite of the king of Israel in this story: he shows solidarity with his colleague (verse 7) and is loyal to YHWH. His focalizations also shed a critical light on the king of Israel. The king of Israel, in contrast to his predecessors, shows himself to be rather insecure: at the very first setback, he assumes that “YHWH has summoned us, three kings, only to be handed over to Moab.” (verse 10 and 13). The effect is not only critical, but also ironic: now that there is a king, for once, who is not plagued by recklessness or overestimation, this king obtains victory. Although he is the winner, Jehoram still comes across as a loser here. The fact that Jehoshaphat still asks for the opinion of a prophet, in spite of the ‘oracle’ of Jehoram, also has

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an ironic effect: apparently Jehoshaphat does not have so much faith in Jehorams knowledge of Gods will and he would like to get a second opinion.136 The focalizations by the Moabites have the effect of showing that the victory is the result of the water and the illusion raised by the water. In other words: the focalizations make clear that YHWH obtained this victory; the victory cannot be ascribed to Jehoram or Jehoshaphat. This, too, has a critical effect. It is a victory; but it is a victory in spite of them. 2.5.4. The level of the text Repetition of sound/play with sound We can find two fine examples of play with sound in our text. In verse 13, we find the first:

‫ויאמר אלישׁע אל־מלך־ישׂראל‬ ‫מה־לי ולך‬ ‫אל־נביא אביך‬ ִ ‫לך‬ ‫ואל־נביאי אמך‬ Because of the repetition of the l-sound at the beginning of the sentence and the a-sounds at the end (which reminds of è ah), Elisha’s sentence comes across as rather plaintive. The sound strengthens the content. “What have I to do with you? Go to your father’s prophets or to your mother’s.” The second example of sound- and word play can be found in verse 22: ‫המים אדמים כדם‬. This play on words suggests a connection between the water that is as red as blood and the name of “Edom”.137

136

Brichto, Towards a Grammar of Biblical Poetics, 205. This play on words feeds the though expressed by Bartlett, “The “united” campaign”, 143: “It seems quite evident that it is the land of Edom that is important in this story, not the king of Edom and his military power, and the reference to the king of Edom in verses 9 and 12 is probably inspired solely by the immediately previous reference tot the geographical area in which the campaign takes place.” 137

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b. Repetition of words The motif words in this story are:

‫( מים‬water) verse 9, 11, 17, 19, 20, 20, 22, 22, 25 ‫( לחם‬to fight) verse 21 ‫( מלחמה‬battle) verse 7, 26 ‫( עלה‬to go up/to march/to come up to fight) verse 7, 8, 21 ( hif il offering) ‫‘( מעלה‬above’=older) ‫( עלה‬to offer) ‫( יד‬hand)

verse 20, 27 verse 21 verse 27 verse 10 (Moab), 11 (Elijah), 13 (Moab), 15 (YHWH), 18 (Israel) ‫( דרך אדום‬from the direction of Edom/by the way of Edom) verse 10, 20

There are few real motif words in this story. “Water” is mentioned several times in different contexts. The shortage of water is the complication in the story, because of which the kings are driven to consult a prophet. This prophet is characterized as the person who “used to pour water on the hands of Elijah”. The prophecy predicts victory and entails the order to fill up Moab’s water sources. Lastly, water plays a crucial role in obtaining victory. Other motif word seem to be “to come up to fight” and “to offer”. The two narrative rounds (4–20 and 21–27) both start with the “coming up” of the army of the three kings and both end with the “rising” of an offer. During the first offering (verse 20), the first turn takes place in the story: it is the beginning of Israel’s victory. During the second offering, the second turn occurs in the story: Israel abandons the battle. The suggestion seems to be made that the battle is not decided by and during the “coming up” of the armies as it is by and during the “rising” of offerings. A comparable role seems to be played by the combination “from the direction of Edom”. It is not Jehoram’s surprise tactics to march “by the way (of the wilderness) of Edom” (verse 10) which brings him victory, but the water that is led to stream to Moab “from the direction of Edom” (verse 20) Moab. Repetition of themes The handing-over formula appears in this story, too: verse 10, 13 and 18. The theme has a remarkable ironic function again. Twice, Jehoram uses this formula, as if he were among the prophets. He turns this formula of encouragement into a very fatalistic supposition, namely that YHWH

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is behind the campaign with the intention to give the three kings into the hand of Moab in this way. It is an assumption that could appear believable to the reader who read 1 Kings 22 just before. Jehoram evokes a tension in the story in this way: would YHWH mislead the king to give them into Moab’s hand, as he did with Jehoram’s father Ahab? The message of the story is given relief: YHWH does not have a personal feud with the Omrides, but the trouble with the Omrides is that they care little about the prophets. When Jehoram finally ends up with the prophet Elisha thanks to Jehoshaphat, he learns from him that to the contrary, YHWH will give Moab into the hand of the three kings. Also, the army’s—wrongly assumed—“confusion” occurs here. Without the characteristic word ‫ המם‬being used, the Moabites think that the allied armies fought against each other in verse 23. Something else that can be regarded as a theme, is how YHWH fights through elements of the nature: water, sun, and stars (verse 20). Intertextuality The stories in 1 Kings 20, 22 and 2 Kings 3 form some sort of a triptych—we already said this in chapter 2.4. The number of kings grows each time: one (Israel), two (Israel and Judah), three (Israel, Judah and Edom). In the first story, Ahab is attacked, in the second, the initiative lies with the king of Israel. The first war is also most obviously a victory, while the wars in 1 Kings 20 and 2 Kings 3 end in a non transparent situation. In all three stories, the king of Israel finds himself opposed by a prophet. In each of the three stories, this is a different person; respectively an unknown man of God; Micaiah, son of Imlah; and Elisha. One could note down these three plots and their connections in mathematical formulas (in which ∧ stands for ‘and’, in other words a conjunction, and ∨ stands for ‘or’, in other words a disjunction): 1 Kings 20: YHWH ∧ Ahab ∨ Ben-hadad

YHWH ∨ Ahab ∧ Ben-hadad (Ahab looses his relationship with YHWH through his covenant with Ben-hadad.) 1 Kings 22: YHWH ∧ Jehoshaphat ∨ Ahab

YHWH ∧ Ahab ∨ Jehoshaphat (Ahab tries to swap places with Jehoshaphat in order to let the punishment come down on Jehoshaphat and is unsuccesfull in this endeavour.)

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2 Kings 3: YHWH ∧ Jehoshaphat ∨ YHWH ∧ Jehoshaphat Jehoram ∧ Jehoram ( Jehoram tries to ensure YHWH’s support via a covenant with Jehoshaphat.) The references to 1 Kings 22 are the most clear, among other reasons, because of Jehoshaphat’s acts. Verse 7, for example: “I am as you are; my people are your people, my horses are your horses”. This is an intertextual reference to 1 Kings 22:4. Both question and answer are almost identical in the two texts. In both cases, Jehoshaphat loyally goes along with his Israelite colleague. In the first story despite his colleague’s positive prediction and a negative prophecy, in the second story despite a negative prediction by his colleague and a positive prophecy. Jehoshaphat’s role in both stories is that of the person who brings up the prophet. In verse 11 he says: “Is there no prophet of YHWH here, through whom we may inquire of YHWH?”—a verbatim quote from Kings 22:7. Elisha saying “Go to your father’s prophets or to your mother’s” to Jehoram, also seems to refer to this text for this reason. Elisha seems to be saying: compared to 1 Kings 22, are you not skipping a step? Go find your advice with those Baal respectively those so-called YHWH-prophets. 1 Kings 20 and 2 Kings 3 share the element that the war takes seven days: see verse 9 and 1 Kings 20:29. We will come back to this. The meaning of this reference seems to lie in contrasting the kings of Israel to a pious king such as Jehoshaphat. The kings of Israel could care less about the laws of Deuteronomy, the content of which was held up to them by the prophets (compare to 2 Kings 17:13)—since the book itself will only be found much later. The kings of Israel behave like the heathen kings Ben-hadad and Mesha. They make covenants with these heathen kings and behave with as much disrespect for the law as them. References to 1 Kings 18 Chapters 18 and 3 have a shared theme: there is no water—the prophet provides water, says Van Daalen.138 Rehm also draws attention to the

138 Van Daalen, “ ‘Vertel mij toch al het grote dat Elisa gedaan heeft’: 5. Samenhangen”, 125.

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connections with 1 Kings 18.139 The turn of phrase “YHWH before whom I stand” only appears in these two stories (1 Kgs 18:15 and 2 Kgs 3:14). The indication of time through offerings is unique for these two texts (1 Kgs 18:29 and 36 and 2 Kgs 3:20). The “(springs of ) water” and the “animals” appear in both texts (1 Kgs 18:5 and 2 Kgs 3:9). Combined with the reference to Numbers 20 (the story of the water from the rocks), this motif connects Elisha to Elijah and Moses. The stories surrounding Elijah and Elisha form one large polemic with the worshippers of Baal. This fertility god was a god of storm and rain. 1 Kings 18 and 2 Kings 3 seem to want to show: to Israel, fertility will be related to listening to Moses’ law, as was agreed on through mediation by Elijah and Elisha. Obedience to YHWH will be the source on which the people base their lives. References within the Deuteronomistic history One who looks up the number ‘seven’ in the concordance ends up in a network of texts with priestly themes such as festivals and cults. As in 1 Kings 20:16, the network refers us to the Sukkoth140 as a background to our text. First of all, there is a reference to 1 Kings 8:64–65, in which Solomon celebrates the inauguration of the temple with a festival that lasts seven days and then another seven days, in the midst of a large crowd “from Lebo-hamath to the Wadi of Egypt”. He does this, after he has made an offering. Solomon celebrates this festival in the seventh month according to 1 Kings 8:2. According to Leviticus 23:33–44, this festival may well have referred to the Sukkoth—a festival that is celebrated for seven days in the seventh month; a festival in which the crossing through the desert is celebrated; a festival during which an offering has to be made each day for seven days; and in which the fruits of the trees play an important role. Deuteronomy 31:9–29 also speaks of the Sukkoth and adds the element that Moses’ law has to be read out loud at this Sukkoth: “Assemble the people—men, women, and children, as well as the aliens residing in your towns—so that they may hear and learn to fear the Lord your God and to observe diligently all the words of

139

Rehm, Das zweite Buch der Könige, 41–42. See chapter 2.3, where we saw that the two armies of Aram and Israel lay siege opposite of each other for seven days, and the army of Israel, curiously enough, did not live in tents, but in sukkahs (‫)סכת‬. 140

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this law, and so that their children, who have not known it, may hear and learn to fear the Lord your God, as long as you live in the land that you are crossing over the Jordan to possess.” (Deut. 31:12–13) These verses connect the Sukkoth with the passage through the desert, the entrance and the gift of the land. From there, it is a small step to Joshua 6, in which Jericho is taken after seven days of marching around the city. The intertextuality thus seems to point in the following direction: Jehoram is portrayed as an inverse Joshua. He leads his people out of the country, back into the desert. The seven days suggest that we have to do with an “inverse” Sukkoth. Instead of reading the law out loud, he is breaking the law from Deuteronomy that prohibits the cutting down of fruit trees. Fruits, fruit trees and abundance belong to the Sukkoth, but Jehoram cuts the trees and creates a shortage of water and food—both for Israel and for Moab. In this manner, he does exactly what Moses and Solomon had warned against. This makes the story of 2 Kings 3 the opposite image of the intake of Jericho.141 The connection is strengthened by the offering of Mesha’s eldest son, which seems to connect our story to 1 Kings 16:34, in which Jericho is rebuilt in Ahab’s time after two child offerings. This was predicted by Joshua in Joshua 6:26 after the intake of Jericho. This connection is also an argument to regard the relationship between 2 Kings 3 and Deuteronomy 20:19–20 (in which it is prohibited to fell trees) as Smelik does.142 For all exegetes note that it is strange that Elisha, in verse 19 of our story, seems to give the order to go against the Deuteronomistic law. One could explain this from a historical-critical perspective with the theory that we have to do with separate lines of the tradition, the 2 Kings 3 story being the older one, so that the writer was not yet aware of the Deuteronomistic law. However, the other references are so strong, that we are inclined to adopt the theory that verse 19 should not be read as a prophecy, but as an announcement of what will happen. Jehoram leads his people back into the desert as if there was never an exodus or a Torah.143

141 One can wonder whether Kir-hareset referred to Karho/Keriho rather than to Kerak. Our analysis adds an extra argument to the identification of Kir-Hareset as Karho, as proposed by Smelik, Converting the Past, 85–89. 142 Smelik, 2 Koningen, 22, asks what meaning this text has if we assume the reader was supposed to know this prescription in the Torah. 143 We also remind that chapter 2.3 and 2.4 contained references to the book Deuteronomy. Each time, the point of the reference is to show that the kings are not

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It is no coincidence that the “water as red as blood” in verse 22 evokes associations with Exodus 7:20: “and all the water in the river was turned into blood.” The same is true for the “firstborn son”—a significant word in the story of the exodus.144 One could even strike the thought that our story is connected to other texts that speak of child offerings and texts on the firstborn/the law of primogeniture. The key text could well be Genesis 22:1–19. Israel and Judah ( Jacob) and Edom (Esau), the sons of Isaac, stand for the tradition in which child offerings are a taboo. Moab, (grand) son of Lot (Gn 19:37), stands outside this tradition. This would also explain why the story takes place in two narrative rounds, both ending with a burnt offering. Bartlett draws attention to yet another intertextual reference within the Deuteronomistic history: the connection to the events in Numbers 20. Bartlett writes: “[. . .] the story of the attempt of the children of Israel to pass through Edom, with its fields, vineyards, wells, and highway, is preceded by a wandering in the wilderness (Num. 20:2–13) where there is no water to drink and the people complain that they and their cattle are about to die; Moses strikes the rock, water comes abundantly, and the congregation drink, and their cattle. The account of 2 Kings 3 reflects the same theme: the Israelites enter the region of the wilderness near Edom, on a circuitious march, run short of water—they even have cattle with them, though surely an invading army would expect to get its meat by raiding—and a prophetic figure provides water in abundance.”145 This connection, too, is indicative

abiding by the rules and thus go from bad to worse. The stories seem to contain a similar message to many of the books by I. Bashevis Singer, such as Enemies, A Love Story, New York 1972 and The Penitent, New York 1983, which revolves about the saying used by rabbis: “Whoever transgresses one law, transgresses the whole Torah”. In Singer’s novel, this rule is not interpreted in a legal sense but as a psychological pattern. One who has started to trifle with one law, soon goes from bad to worse. In Singer’s books, it starts by not eating kosher, and it ends with murder. We observe something similar in these stories: the kings of Israel do not abide by all kinds of laws from Deuteronomy: the ban, the law on false prophesy, the prohibition to attack Moab, the prohibition to cut down fruit trees. Their reasoning is similar to the heathen kings when it comes to sparing kings, and to child offerings. In this manner, the entire exodus is undone. A theme that is a prelude to the actual end of Israel in 2 Kings 17:1–23. 144 Compare to Ex.4:22–23, in which the Pharaoh is summoned by YHWH to let Israel, “my firstborn son” go under penalty of the death of the firstborn of the Pharaoh. 145 Bartlett, “The ‘united’ campaign”, 138.

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that the writer wanted to portray Jehoram’s campaign as the opposite image of the exodus. Metaphors There are no real metaphors in this story. The saying in verse 11: “who used to pour water on the hands of Elijah”, could possibly be seen as a metaphor, possibly as an antique metaphor at that. The meaning is probably: ‘who served Elijah’ because it was the ask of a servant to pour water on the hands of his lord before meals. The intention of this turn of phrase seems be clear within the context: to characterize Elisha as an independent prophet. Elisha is not a prophet of the court but a pupil of Elijah. In Jehoshaphat’s eyes, this is to Elisha’s credit (“the word of YHWH is with him”, verse 12), but to Jehoram the reference to his father Ahab’s tormentor comes with bad connotations. Structure The broad outlines of the text as a whole nicely form a parallel structure. In total, there are nine scenes, eight of which mirror each other:

A (verse 4–8) Three kings set out (‫)עלה‬ to battle (‫)מלחמה‬ B (verse 9–13) Problem: no water (‫)מים‬ 9 there was no water (‫)מים‬

A’ (verse 21) The Moabites heard that the kings had come up (‫)עלה‬ to fight against them (‫)לחם‬

B’ (verse 22–23) Moab sees: water (‫)מים‬ 22 The Moabites saw water (‫)מים‬ opposite them as red as blood (‫)אדומים כדם‬ 23 They said, ‘This is blood; 10 Then the king of Israel said, the kings must have fought ‘Alas! together, YHWH has summoned us, three and killed one another. kings, Now then, Moab, only to be handed over to Moab to the spoil!’

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Table (cont.) X (verse 11–18) a 11 Jehoshaphat to Jehoram: is there no prophet (‫ )נביא‬here? b One of the servants: Elisha is here. b’12 Jehoshaphat: The word of YHWH is with him. a’13 Elisha to Jehoram: Go to your father’s prophets (‫)נביא‬. c Jehoram to Elisha: No, because it is YHWH who has summoned these three kings to be handed over (‫ )יד‬to Moab d 14 Elisha to Jehoram: I have no regard (‫ )ראה‬for you, but for Jehoshaphat X 15 The hand (‫ )יד‬of YHWH over Elisha d’ 17 You shall see neither wind nor rain (‫)ראה‬ c’ 18 YHWH will hand (‫ )יד‬Moab over to you C (verse 19) Prophecy Elisha you shall conquer (‫ )נכה‬every fortified city (‫)עיר‬ every good tree (‫)עץ טוב‬ you shall fell (‫)נפל‬ all springs of water (‫)מעיני מים‬ you shall stop up (‫)סתם‬ and every good piece of land (‫)החלקה טובה‬ you shall ruin with stones (‫)באבנים‬

C’ (verse 24–26) Fulfillment prophecy They attacked (‫ )נכה‬Moab The cities (‫ )עיר‬they overturned, on every good piece of land (‫)החלקה טובה‬everyone threw a stone (‫)אבן‬ every spring of water (‫)מעיני מים‬ they stopped up (‫)סתם‬ and every good tree (‫)עץ טוב‬ they felled (‫)נפל‬

D (verse 20) Offering (‫)עלה‬ + solution of water problem

D’ (verse 27) Offering of Mesha’s firstborn (‫)עלה‬ + end of war

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Note that both narrative rounds are each set up in a concentric manner: scenes A and D mirror each other, as do A’ and D’ in the play on words ‘to come up’ and ‘to offer’. Scenes B and C are connected to each other, as are B’ and C’, through the motif word ‘water’ and ‘spring of water’. We also observe that Elisha’s prophecy in scene C and the fulfillment of the prophecy in scene C’ mirrored in a chiastic manner: C Felling of every good tree Stopping up every spring of water 〉〈 Ruining every good piece of land with stones

C’ Ruining every good piece of land with stones Stopping up every spring of water Felling every good tree

If we study this structure in some more detail, we can observe several things. In the first place, it becomes clear from this structure (B-B’) that Jehoram and the Moabites make a similar assessment of the situation. They both believe in Moab’s victory. The narratological scheme therefore resembles the one of 1 Kings 22: FAITH IN YHWH (“Moab in your hand”) Jehoshaphat POLITICS (‫עלה‬/to come up) Jehoram

Elisha opposition

RELIGION (‫עלה‬/to offer) Moab

UNBELIEF/FALSE BELIEF (“kings in the hand of Moab”) In this scheme, Jehoshaphat is politically on Jehoram’s side, but he stands out in a positive light with respect to Jehoram because of his faith in YHWH. Mesha, as king of Moab, comes to stand on Elisha’s side to such an extent that both take their faith seriously. Not without reason do both narrative rounds end with an offering, the result of which is more powerful than the coming up of the armies. Seeing as that the narrator apparently based himself on this thought, it is not hard to see why the last verse with the “wrath” remains so ambiguous. On the one hand, he wants to show religion is a more important factor

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in history than in politics, but on the other hand he wants to avoid suggesting that Kemosh was too strong for YHWH. The structure also makes clear that the various exegetes were correct in their observation that verses 11–18 (or 19) are unique within the story. There is no parallel to these verses in their capacity as scene X. Jehoshaphat and Elisha are the main characters in these verses, while Jehoram and Moab are the main characters in the surrounding verses. The thought that a legend on a prophet was melted into an ancient war story therefore seems to hold some credibility. Still, we believe that such a reconstruction should be regarded as unlikely. The verses 4–9, 20–27 leave a bloodless story without a real plot. One has to assume that the only setback the three kings experienced must have been the lack of water in verse 9, after which it is reported directly afterwards in verse 20 that water arrived from the direction of Edom the next morning. We have seen, however that the (shortage of ) water and (shortage of ) food and drinks are central themes in the stories on Elijah and Elisha and that it is therefore probably that the character of Elisha was connected to this story from the very beginning. 2.5.5. The theology/ideology of the text Focalization of the king Jehoram is called as follows by the external focalizator: Jehoram son of Ahab (vers 1) the king of Israel (vers 5, 9, 10, 13, 13) king Jehoram (vers 6) The external focalizator is most explicit in his judgement in the introduction—which can be seen as the framework. In the introduction, he uses the well-known Deuteronomistic turn of phrase: “He did what was evil in the sight of YHWH”, plus the well-known remark on the pillar of Baal and Jeroboam’s sins. Other than that, the vision of the external focalizator is only noticeable from subtle signals in the text. For example, the fact that the king does not appear by himself after verse 13—only the collective ‘the kings’ is used, and even then, only in the focalization of the Moabites. His role is literally and figuratively finished. We have seen that implicitly, a negative evaluation lies in the statement of verse 25 (the scorchedearth policy), since this goes against the laws of war in Deuteronomy 20:19–20. Maybe we should even say that this war against Moab, which

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was prohibited by Deuteronomy 2:9 anyway, must have been looked upon negatively from the very beginning. In any case, there is a clear internal focalization of the king by the prophet Elisha. In verse 14, Elisha makes clear that he does not consider Jehoram worthy of being spoken too. He will only prophesize because Jehoshaphat is present. When we discussed the intertextuality, we saw that the Omrides and YHWH’s prophets kept taking on reversed roles: if the prophet was negative, Ahab was in good spirits (1 Kgs 22) and the opposite occurred with Jehoram in 2 Kings 3. This fact evidently has an ironic effect. Jehoram is a type of anti-prophet. We also saw that while the book of Kings portrays Elijah as a second Moses, this story makes clear that Elisha is the second Joshua146 (it is even clear from the similarity between their names, while Jehoram is the exact opposite of Joshua.) King Jehoshaphat is focalized as follows: Jehoshaphat, king of Judah (verse 1, 7, 14) the king of Judah (verse 9) Jehoshaphat (vers 11, 12, 12) Apart from verse 14, in which Elisha addresses Jehoshaphat, these are all external focalizations. The difference between the way in which Jehoshaphat and Jehoram are spoken of, respectively, is noteworthy. While king Jehoram is only mentioned by his own name once, after the Deuteronomistic introduction, Jehoshaphat is addressed by his own name as much as five times, three times of which without his title “king of Judah”. Still, we do not think we can speak of a Jehoshaphat-edition.147 A reading of the books of Kings shows that different ways of naming an individual are used simultaneously.148 One could just as well argue (and one would similarly not be able to prove) that the more intimate way in which the king of Judah is addressed reveals the writer’s Judean perspective on the world as opposed to an Israelite perspective. In any

146 Vgl. R. LaBarbera, “The Man of War and the Man of God: Social Satire in 2 Kings 6:8–7:20”, CBQ 46 (1984), 637–651, especially 651: “If Elijah was Moses, Elisha is Joshua.” 147 Says Stipp, Elischa, 365–367. 148 Just the first name or just the title (“the king of X”) or “king Y” or “Y, the king of X”.

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case, the effect is that a larger intimacy is suggested between Elisha and Jehoshaphat than between Elisha and Jehoram. This interpretation corresponds with the role played by Jehoshaphat in the story: a king who is solidary with Jehoram, but also pious. We hear how he identifies Elisha as true prophet (verse 12) and how Elisha expresses esteem for Jehoshaphat (verse 14). The king of Edom only appears in the story as an extra: the king of Edom (vers 9, 12, 26) We can therefore agree to what Bartlett wrote: “It seems quite evident that it is the land of Edom that is important in this story, not the king of Edom and his military power, and the reference to the king of Edom in verses 9 and 12 is probably inspired solely by the immediately previous reference to the geographical area in which the campaign takes place.”149 Mesha is mentioned the usual manner: the first time by name and by title, the successive times only by name. King Mesha of Moab (vers 4) the king of Moab (vers 5, 7, 26) Mesha’s role in the story is rather limited. He sets the story in motion with his rebellion, but the most important tension is not the one between Jehoram and Mesha but the one between Jehoram and Elisha. Evaluation of the war Jehoram considers the war that he is waging a just war, since the causa belli is just: suppressing a revolt. In verse 7, he defines the situation as Mesha’s ‘rebelling’, implicitly indicating that he sees his relationship with Mesha as the relationship between a great king and his vassal. If we can at all assume there is an intertextual connection to Deuteronomy, the war with Moab was condemned even before it started. The writers of the story, however, do not seem to have the intention to make the war itself the theme of the story; rather, they evoke the tension between both views on kingship: Jehoram’s pride versus Jehoshaphat’s faithful abidance by the law.

149

Bartlett, “The “united” campaign”, 143.

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If this text can be taken as some sort of a mirror to 1 Kings 22, one could defend the following: in 1 Kings 22, battle is valuated positively despite defeat (as a means through YHWH can manifest himself ), here battle is valuated negatively despite the victory: the laws of Deuteronomy are trampled underfoot on all sides. This would also explain the somewhat ambiguous prophecy by Elisha. Elisha on the one hand indicates that YHWH is capable of saving Israel and would love to do just that; but, regretfully, matters will take a different course. Stern rightfully points out: “In other words, Elisha did not predict success or failure. He merely affirmed YHWH’s power to give victory.”150 Excursus: the offering of Mesha’s son and the ‘wrath’ in verse 27 A true crux interpretum is formed by Mesha’s offering of his eldest son and the ‘wrath’ that follows and makes Israel decide to retreat after all. The question marks posed by exegetes narrow down to the question why Mesha would have proceeded to carry out such an awful deed, and to the question who exactly became ‘wrathful’. The oldest interpretation is the one in the LXX, which translates the word ‘wrath’ with the word ‘remorse’. Josephus was probably influenced by this translation and declares that the Israelites took pity with Mesha because of the offering and retreated for this reason. This theory, sympathetic as it may be, is no longer the one adopted these days. Nonetheless a recent theory by Margalit has the same psychological tone.151 He refers to a Ugaritic text from the thirteenth century B.C. that includes the instruction that the people should pray to Baal in case of a besiegement, and should offer a bull and a “firstborn, a child”. “It follows that Mesha’s sacrifice of his son, rather than unprecedented, was in fact an integral, if seldomly implemented, part of an age-old Canaanite tradition of sacral warfare.”152 He then translates ‘wrath’ as a “psychological breakdown” of the Israelite troops, a fear or a trauma, that was evoked by the “conditioned reflex” of such a deed.153

150 P.D. Stern, “Of Kings and Moabites: History and Theology in 2 Kings 3 and the Mesha Inscription”, HUCA 64 (1994), 1–14, especially p. 7. 151 B. Margalit, “Why King Mesha of Moab sacrificed his oldest son [2 Kgs 3:26–27]”, BAR 12/6 (1986), 62–63. 152 Margalit, “Why King Mesha”, 63. 153 Apparently followed by V. Frisch, Das zweite Buch der Könige (Zürcher Bibelkommentar), Zürich 1998, 20: “Nicht aus militärischen Gründen, sondern aus Entsetzen über die verabscheuenswürdige Opfer-handlung des Königs von Moab wurde der Kriegszug abgebrochen.”

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This theory was critically discussed by Burns.154 Burns states that it is controversial whether child offering actually takes place in the Ugaritic text. While it is true that this practice is known from other sources from the period 1300–1100, the question moreover remains whether it was carried out afterwards. And it is certain that a retreat did not occur even once on grounds of a “conditioned reflex”. Burns makes an interesting intertextual reference to 2 Kings 6–7, a passage in which the inhabitants of Samaria eat their children in a period of besiegement and famine (see II.6). On the cities Kir-hareset and Samaria, he writes: “Both cities were on the verge of capture. Attention was directed to the protecting walls and to the kings on them as leaders of their peoples. One reacted with a display of grief, the other by sacrificing his first-born son. Two male children died, one to assuage starvation, the other to plead for divine intervention. Yahweh and Chemosh intervened sucessfully on behalf of their peoples, but for different reasons and in different ways.”155 His conclusion is therefore that the ‘wrath’ could only have been Kemosh’ wrath in the perception of the ancient eastern individual, while the Deuteronomist purposefully kept the subject of wrath vague, because he wanted to avoid the suggestion that a different deity could hold power. This interpretation is also made by others.156 Other see the ‘wrath’ as an independent entity, a “selbständige numinose Größe”.157 They point out that the word ‫ קצף‬is frequently used independently in the Bible. Würthwein says that it remains unclear how such wrath could be established. There are some indications that disasters and setbacks such as a break-out of the plague are a sign of this wrath, but it is also possible that a general feeling of dread took over (which would mean that we come close to the interpretation of Margalit). Most exegetes, however, assume that the wrath must have meant YHWH’s wrath. Nowhere in the Bible is any emotion attributed to any other deity, let alone power.158 Moreover, research by means of the concordance into the word ‘wrath’ predominantly leads us to priestly texts within the Deuteronomistic history.159 In these texts, disobedience 154

J.B. Burns, “Why Did the Besieging Army Withdraw? (II Reg 3,27)”, ZAW 102 (1990), 187–194. 155 Burns, “Why Did the Besieging Army Withdraw?”, 191. 156 For example Rehm, Das zweite Buch der Könige, 47–48. 157 For example, Würthwein, Die Bücher der Könige, 284. 158 See Stern, “Of Kings and Moabites”. 159 Num. 1:53, 16:46, 18:5, but also Josh. 9:20, 22:20 en Deut. 29:28. Especially

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to the Torah without exception leads to ‘wrath’. Perhaps the exegetes were misled by the emotional sound of the word ‘wrath’ in our language. The meaning ‘wrath’ is often intended by the independent use of the Hebrew word, but perhaps we should assign a more ‘objective’ meaning to the word, as in ‘liable to punishment’. Just like both an objective and subjective feeling of guilt exist, we could distinguish between subjective and objective wrath. In that case, we would not have to think of a punishing act of YHWH nor of psychological fear of the people of Israel. Rather, we could imagine the awakening realization by the people of Israel that the Torah had been breached and that they had thereby become liable to punishment.160 Effect of the valuation of the war on that of the king The negative valuation of this war certainly has an effect on the negative valuation of the king. Through this lawless war, Jehoram is portrayed as one who despises the law. Whoever transgresses one law, transgresses the whole Torah. “It starts with “the sin of Jeroboam” (verse 3), followed by the attack on Moab (prohibited according to Deut. 2:9), and the ignoring of laws of war from Deuteronomy 19. The end of the story is that this course of action leads to a child offering, also prohibited. Focalization of the gods Every focalizator in the story has a different perspective on YHWH. To Jehoram, YHWH is some sort of a evil genius who aims to destroy the three kings (verse 10 and 13). Jehoram is not interested in YHWH’s opinion on beforehand, but when things turn in the wrong direction, he blames the approaching doom on YHWH. Jehoshaphat has the role of prophetic informer, as he had in 1 Kings 22. Consulting with YHWH is important to him. The external focalizator remains in the background, as is usual in the Bible. The only remark on YHWH by his authorship can be found in verse 15, where he tells us that YHWH’s hand came over Elisha. We do not hear anything explicit on the topic of interference by YHWH. Implicitly, he seems to follow the focalization of the prophets, as he

Deut. 29:28 seems very interesting to us because this farewell speech by Moses relates the themes of the gift of the land, the loyalty or disloyalty to YHWH and the serving of idols to each other. 160 Compare Smelik, 2 Koningen, 23, who asks whether it was the intention of the narrator to indicate that the expedition was against the Torah.

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does in other stories (prophetic historiography), since Elisha’s prophecy proves to be exactly true. Elisha sees YHWH as destinateur. He is the one who is capable of granting victory (“giving into the hand of someone”). Now, Jehoram also sees YHWH as destinateur, which makes him look sympathetic in comparison to his father. The underlying question seems to be what YHWH wants: does he mean to bring the three kings down or does he have good intentions for them?161 Elisha lives up to his name by showing that God wants to save his people, but this will have to come about on account of the fact that the people are abiding by the Torah. Relationship between divine and human activity Like in the texts we discussed before, there is no mention of direct divine intervention in this text. However, the suggestion is made on the basis of Elisha’s prophecy that the water and accompanying optical illusion on the Moabitic side are YHWH’s doing. The narrator is very reticent in making such a suggestion. Human activity seems to go against rather than to be in line with divine activity. Theology/ideology of the text In our view, Frisch is wide of the mark, when he calls 2 Kings 3 “antimoabitischen Propaganda”. The story “spiegelt den Wunsch, Moab und die Moabiter—wenn sie denn schon nicht besiegt werden können—wenigstens zu diskreditieren.”162 And although he is speaking of the frame story (not of the verses 9–17), we are incapable of seeing in whose interest such propaganda would be. Long, who takes the verses 9–17 as his point of departure, sees the following as the intention of the text: “The main point of 2 Kings iii has to do with a correspondence between Yahweh’s word, as spoken by the nabi’, and the actual events related.”163 We do not share this vision either. In our view, this main point is so obvious in the Bible that it is a presupposition of the text and not its eventual message. We consider that we have shown that the ideology behind this text contains several elements:

161 162 163

This is also the central question in 2 Kings 6–7. See chapter 2.6. Frisch, Das zweite Buch der Könige, 20. Long, “2 Kings 3”, 345.

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1. YHWH is the destinateur, the Lord of history, who can grant or deny victories to whom He wants, and in the manner that He wants. 2. YHWH has made his will known in the Torah, and in as far as necessary, he makes his people aware of his will through his prophets. 3. Kings should be the pre-eminent example in abiding by the Torah. If not, it is possible that the project of the exodus fails after all. Disobedient kings lead their people back into the desert, to lands of Fear, where the water is coloured red and firstborns die. 4. It becomes clear from the book Deuteronomy that Israel cannot treat the sister nation of the Moabites (descendents of Abraham’s cousin Lot according to Genesis) in the same manner as the Canaanites. 5. The relationship between victory and being in God’s favour is not linear. Defeats can be punishments, and sometimes a lesson can be learnt from a victory. We therefore fully agree with Brichto’s conclusion: “Inasmuch as Mesha tells us only of his victories, and the Bible concedes the defeat of Israel, the entire account may be a historical fiction, but a fiction that is not to be denied its truth. The facts of history may be read and judged for value in terms of moral truth. Moral truth transcends the facts of history.”164 2.6. 2 Kings 6:8–7:20 2.6.1. Introduction to 2 Kings 6:8–7:20 Translation 8 Once when the king of Aram was at war with Israel, he took counsel with his officers. He said, Go down165 to such and such a place.

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Brichto, Towards a Grammar of Biblical Poetics, 208–209.

‫ תחנתי‬is often emendated here, because this word does not exist. It appears to be a derivate of ‫‘ חנה‬to camp’. There are several possibilities, the most likely of which is: ‫ תנחתי‬of the stem ‫‘ נחת‬descend’, especially since this verb is also used in verse 165

9. In this matter, our views correspond, among others, to M. Cogan en H. Tadmor, II Kings: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (Anchor Bible), New York 1988, 72. Stipp, Elischa, 320, brings up the interesting possibility that “ta anoti” was vocalized in this way because it caused the nice internal rhyme with “peloni almoni” (“such and such”).

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And the man of God sent to the king of Israel and said, Take care not to pass this place, because the Arameans are going down there. And the king of Israel sent to the place of which the man of God spoke, and warned him of. And he took care, not once nor twice. The heart of the king of Aram was greatly perturbed because of this; he called his servants and said to them, Cannot you tell me who among us sides with the king of Israel? Then one of his servants said, No one, my lord king. It is Elisha, the prophet in Israel, who tells the king of Israel the words that you speak in your bedchamber. He said, Go and find where he is; I will send and seize him. He was told, saying, Behold, he is in Dothan. So he sent horses and chariots there and a great army; they came by night, and surrounded the city. And the servant of the man of God rose early in the morning and went out. And behold, an army with horses and chariots was all around the city. His boy said, Alas, master! What shall we do? He replied, Fear not, for there are more with us than there are with them.

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chapter two Then Elisha prayed and said: Please, YHWH, open his eyes that he may see. So YHWH opened the eyes of the boy, and he saw; and behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha. When they166 came down to him, Elisha prayed to the Lord, and said, Strike this people, please, with blinding.167 So he struck them with blindness as Elisha had asked. Elisha said to them, This is not the way, and this is not the city; follow me, and I will bring you to the man whom you seek. And he led them to Samaria. As soon as they entered Samaria, Elisha said, O YHWH, open the eyes of these men so that they may see. YHWH opened their eyes, and they saw and, behold, they were inside Samaria. When the king of Israel said to Elisha, when he saw them, Father, shall I kill them? Shall I kill them?

166 R. LaBarbera, “The Man of War and the Man of God: Social Satire in 2 Kings 6:8–7:20”, CBQ 46 (1984), 637–651, especially 642: “Traditional translations presume the subject of this phrase to be the Arameans. More likely the ‘they’ who ‘came down’ (yrd) are the heavenly horses and chariots just revealed by Elisha to his servant.” 167 Cogan en Tadmor, II Kings, 74 derive this word “sanwerim” from the Akkadian “šunwurum”, which is closer to “blinding”, “a blinding light” than blindness sec.

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He said, You shall not kill! Do you kill those you have captured with your sword and your bow? Set food and water before them so that they may eat and drink; and let them go to their lord. So he prepared for them a great feast; and they ate and they drank, and he sent them on their way, and they went to their lord. And the Arameans no longer came raiding into the land of Israel.

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Some time later King Ben-hadad of Aram mustered his entire army; he marched against Samaria and laid siege to it. 25 And there was a great famine in Samaria, and, behold, they besieged it until a donkey’s head was sold for eighty shekels of silver, and one-fourth of a kab of dove’s dung168 for five shekels of silver. 26 Now as the king of Israel was walking on the city wall, a woman cried out to him, and said, Save us, my lord king! 168

This cryptical sentence has lead to questions from the olden days, in any case since the Masoretes, as can be told from the fact that qerē is different from ke i∫. See, for example, W.W. Müller, “Eselfleisch und Taubendreck: zur Hungersnotspeise in Samaria nach 2 Kön 6:25”, BN 46 (1989), 17–23. Müller thinks that ‘donkey head’ should be seen as ‘a donkey’ (‫ ראשׁ‬more often means ‘one sample’). He also thinks ‘dove’s dung’ means roasted intestines (seeing as there exists, in Germany, a dish called ‘Schnepfendreck’ that is made of intestines of a snipe, according to him). His conclusion on p. 23: “Als Übersetzung des zweiten Satzabschnittes von 2Kön 6,25 möchte ich somit vorschlagen: ‘so daß ein Esel (nur noch) für achtzig Silberschekel zu haben war und ein Viertel Kab Taubendreck (d.h. Innereien von Tauben) für fünf Silberschekel’. Eine solche Hungernotspeise wäre nicht ganz so abscheulich wie ein Eselskopf und Taubenmist.” Also see J. Greenfield, “Doves’ dung and the price of food: the topoi of 2 Kings 6:24–7:2”, in: D. Garrone en F. Israel, Storia e Tradizioni di Israele: Scritti in onore di J. Alberto Soggin, Brescia 1991, 121–126. Greenfield associates the dove’s dung with the false fruit of the Carob tree.

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chapter two He said, If YHWH cannot save you, how could I save you? From the threshing-floor or from the wine press? But then the king asked her, What is your complaint? She said, This woman said to me, Give up your son; we will eat him today, and we will eat my son tomorrow. So we cooked my son and ate him. The next day I said to her, Give up your son and we will eat him. But she has hidden her son. When the king heard the words of the woman he tore his clothes —now since he was walking on the city wall, the people could see that he had sackcloth on his body underneath— and he said, So may God do to me, and more, if the head of Elisha son of Shaphat shall stand on him today.’ Now Elisha was sitting in his house, and the elders were sitting with him. And he sent a man from before him. Before the messenger arrived, Elisha said to the elders, Have you seen that this murderer has sent someone to take off my head? When the messenger comes, see that you shut the door and hold it closed against him. Is not the sound of his lord’s feet behind him? While he was still speaking with them,

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the messenger169 came down to him and said, This evil is from YHWH! Why should I hope in YHWH any longer? 7 1

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But Elisha said, Hear the word of YHWH: thus says YHWH, Tomorrow about this time a measure of choice meal shall be sold for a shekel, and two measures of barley for a shekel, at the gate of Samaria. Then the captain on whose hand the king leaned said to the man of God, Even if YHWH were to make windows in the sky,170 could such a thing happen? But he said, You shall see it with your own eyes, but you shall not eat from it. Now there were four leprous men outside the city gate, who said to one another, Why should we sit here until we die? If we say, Let us enter the city,

169 Most exegetes emendate ‫“ מלאך‬messenger” in ‫“ מלך‬king”. See, for example, Stipp, Elischa, 336. We shall stick to the lectio difficilior. 170 With this image of windows in the sky, a reference is usually made to such biblical texts as Gen. 7:11, 8:2 and Mal. 3:10. LaBarbera, “The Man of War”, 647–648: makes another interesting connecting: “There may be further evidence of his religious preference in the adjutant’s comment about ‘window,’ which recalls the Ugaritic myth of Baal, who was at first so reluctant to have windows in his palace. The windows once installed, were viewed in Canaanite mythology as openings through which the storm god supplied rain to the earth below. With the earlier reference to Baal in the name of Ben Hadad (6:24), we have here definite overtones of the religious conflict so evident throughout the Elijah-Elisha cycle. The adjutant is sarcastically challenging the power of Yahweh by questioning the truth of Elisha’s prophecy. Elisha responds with a further prediction aimed specifically at the adjutant and reaffirming that Yahweh will be as effective as the adjutant is hinting Baal would have been. The adjutant will see the victory, but not eat from it, in contrast to the Aramean soldiers of story A, who both saw and ate through Elisha’s word. (6:20 & 23)” The fire of the horses and chariots (and the blinding that follows) in the first story and the sound heard by the Aramean army in the second story evoke the image of YHWH beating Baal, the god of storm, on his own territory, as happened in earlier stories in the cycle on Elijah and Elisha.

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chapter two the famine is in the city, and we shall die there; but if we sit here, we shall also die. Therefore, come, let us desert to the Aramean camp; if they spare our lives, we shall live; and if they kill us, we shall but die. So they arose at twilight to go to the Aramean camp; but when they came to the edge of the Aramean camp, behold, there was no man there at all. For YHWH had caused the Aramean army to hear the sound of chariots the sound of horses, the sound of a great army, so that they said to one another, Behold, the king of Israel has hired the kings of the Hittites and the kings of Egypt to fight against us. So they arose and fled away in the twilight and abandoned their tents, their horses, and their donkeys, leaving the camp just as it was, and fled for their lives. When these leprous men had come to the edge of the camp, they went into a tent, and they ate and they drank, and they carried off silver, gold, and clothing, and they went and they hid them, and they came back, and they entered another tent, and they carried off things from it,

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and they went and they hid them. Then they said to one another, What we are doing is wrong. This is a day of good news; if we are silent and wait until the morning light, we will be found guilty; therefore let us go and tell it in the king’s house. So they came and called to the gatekeepers of the city, and told them, We went to the Aramean camp, but, behold, there is no man there neither voice of man, nothing but the horses tied, the donkeys tied, and the tents as they were. Then the gatekeepers called out and proclaimed it in the king’s house. The king got up in the night, and said to his servants, I will tell you what the Arameans have done to us. They know that we are starving; so they have left the camp to hide themselves in the open country, saying, When they come out of the city, we shall take them alive and get into the city. One of his servants answered and said, Let some take five of the remaining horses, which are left. Behold, they are as all the multitude of Israel that are left in it; behold, they are as all the multitude of Israel that are consumed.

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chapter two Let us send and see. So they took two chariots with horses, and the king sent them after the Aramean army, saying, Go and see. So they went after them as far as the Jordan; and, behold, the whole way was full of garments and equipment that the Arameans had thrown away in their haste. So the messengers returned, and told the king. Then the people went out, and plundered the camp of the Arameans. So a measure of choice meal was sold for a shekel, and two measures of barley for a shekel, according to the word of YHWH. Now the king had appointed the captain on whose hand he leaned to have charge of the gate; the people trampled him and he died in the gate, just as the man of God had said when the king came down to him. For when the man of God had said to the king, saying, Two measures of barley shall be sold for a shekel, and a measure of choice meal for a shekel, about this time tomorrow in the gate of Samaria, the captain had answered the man of God, Even if the Lord were to make windows in the sky, could such a thing happen? And he had answered, You shall see it with your own eyes, but you shall not eat from it. It did indeed happen to him; the people trampled him and he died in the gate.

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Introduction to the chapter It is once again difficult to reconstruct the historical background to this story, as is true for the entire cycle of stories on Elijah and Elisha. One could deduce from the position of the story in the cycle that the unnamed king of Israel is Jehoram. Most exegetes, however, assume that it cannot have been Jehoram, advancing both literary and historical grounds for this view. The literary arguments concern the apparent friendliness of Elisha with respect to the king in these stories. Rofé, for example, states that, in these stories, it is unlikely for Elisha to be in close contact with the king and for the king to show respect for the prophet, who he addresses with “father” here, while Elisha orders Jehu to kill king Jehoram a few chapters onwards.171 We are not convinced by this argument, because it is based on the assumption that there cannot be any sort of ambivalence or any development in a relationship. Recall, for example, the relationship between Samuel and Saul.172 There are also historic arguments for why this king can impossibly have been Jehoram. In the first place, Israel and Aram were probably still allies in the battle against Assyria in Jehoram’s days. And if it is true that relations between the two powers had taken a turn for the worse—one could deduce this from the battle at Ramoth-gilead in 1 Kings 22—even then, the power relations would not have been such that Aram could carry out raids in Israel, let alone besiege Samaria.173 This situation is reminiscent of Jehu’s and Jehohaz’s reign, when Israel was severely weakened and caught up in a near-continuous conflict with Aram. Additionally, Rofé states that Elisha must have been active for a surprisingly long time based on the stories in 2 Kings, seeing as that he dies at the time of king Joash of Israel (2 Kgs 13:14–21), around the year 800. Rofé considers it more likely that Elisha’s appearance can be dated entirely to the reign of Jehu and his sons. The narrator, however, wants to suggests a continuity between Elijah and Elisha and

171 A. Rofé, The Prophetical Stories: The Narratives about the Prophets in the Hebrew Bible. Their Literary Types and History, Jerusalem 1988, 71. 172 Compare to Stipp, Elischa, 372, who remarks that the sackcloth in which this king cloaks himself, has only one parallel in 1 Kgs. 21:27 at Ahab’s atonement. According to Stipp, we are dealing with a development during which a “bis dahin dem König von Israel durchaus gewogene Erzählung” is later “kraß königsfeindlich bearbeitet”. 173 Cogan en Tadmor, II Kings, 84, state that the razzia’s are conceivable for Jehoram’s period, but a besiegement of Samaria “is hard to imagine before the reign of Jehu”.

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therefore already has Elisha’s appear at the time of the Omrides. This continuity never existed in reality according to Rofé. Nonetheless, we tend to suppose with Lasine that the literary character of the king was most likely based on Jehoram.174 In our view, it is possible to distinguish between a historic figure and a literary character. The historical character that could be hidden behind this story may not have been Jehoram, but the narrator or redactor may still have had Jehoram in mind while composing the text. The connections between this king and the one in 2 Kings 3 and 5 also support this idea. We shall come back to this topic under the heading ‘intertextuality’. The genre of both stories is generally established to be ‘legenda’. Rofé, for example, calls it a “political legenda”, because: “the details provided are completely neutral: kings and officers are anonymous, incidents are not dated, and places are nameless.”175 Historic critical exegetes observe different layers.176 Starting with the first story: Würthwein sees the combination of the verses 6:8–14, 18, 19, and 21–23a as an old tale with a couple of additions in which the roles of Elisha and YHWH are made to look more significant.177 Stipp criticizes most splits made by Würthwein, and comes to the conclusion that only the verses 15–17 were added to the first story.178 An important argument supporting this hypothesis is that the horses and chariots of fire do not come into action in the story. We do not agree with this argument: the horses and chariots are heard of in the subsequent story. Moreover, it is possible that Aram is blinded by the fire. Rehm also

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S. Lasine, “Jehoram and the cannibal mothers (2 Kings 6:24–33): Solomon’s judgment in an inverted world”, JSOT 50 (1991), 27–53, especially 42–43: “Regarded in this context, the unnamed king of ch. 6 must be Jehoram, son of Ahab. Jehoram’s interaction with Elisha begins in ch. 3. He is consistently presented as a king who, while not very perceptive or intelligent, is al least aware of the limitations of his power and as one who is saved by the power of Elisha.” 175 Rofé, The Prophetical Stories, 60. 176 For a survey of the various theories they referred to Stipp, Elischa, 332–335 (2 Kon. 6:8–23) en 352–358 (2 Kon. 6:24–7:20). 177 Würthwein, Die Bücher der Könige, 304–307. On p. 307 he concludes “So läßt sich auch an dieser Erzählung die schon mehrfach beobachtete Tendenz ablesen, ältere Überlieferung, die von einem magisch begabten Ausnahmemenschen handelte, in eine Botschaft von Jahwe als dem Gott zu verwandelen und zu vertiefen, der in alle Nöten hilft.” Frisch, Das zweite Buch der Könige, 33–35, agrees with him on this topic. 178 Stipp, Elischa, 335.

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brings up this point and comes to the conclusion that the split of the text into its sources cannot “zwingend bewiesen werden.”179 The second story is approached in a similar manner by the exegetes. The point of this story is that the text seems to have been corrupted in two places by dittography. Verse 13180 and the verses 18–20 appear to be duplicates of what was told just before. Würthwein takes a similar approach to the one he took for the first story, by telling apart profane narrations from interruptions of secondary additions that form a religious interpretation to the story.181 These additions are 6:31–7:2, 16b–17a, duplicated in 17b–20, and verse 6. They are respectively the episodes with Elisha and the king’s messenger and the note that YHWH had caused Aram to hear a loud noise. Here, too, Stipp has a lot of criticism on Würthwein, who bases his argument on highly subjective stylistic considerations (the episode with Elisha is said to be less vivid). He himself considers that, apart from 7:17d–20, the only addition we can be ‘certain’ of are the verses 6:31, 32c–33a. He attributes these verses to an anti-monarchist round of editing. It is possible that the verses 6:28–30 are also an addition. In this case, they would be a part of a monarchist round of editing.182 This split seems far-fetched to us. According to our literary standards, this may be a peculiar story, in which every new scene comes with a change of place and of characters. Nonetheless, the one scene follows the other logically and there is such strong cohesion between the scenes that it seems impossible to us to leave out parts of the scenes. This vision was put into words by Rofé in the following manner: “It (i.e. the legenda) has absorbed several subordinate narratives, such as the women who argue over the live and the dead child and the lepers bearing tidings of salvation, both of which seem to have been drawn from the store of ancient Israelite folklore. In this exceptionally long tale (thirty verses in its present form and orginally perhaps even longer) some five distinct themes are interwoven: the main story about the siege of Samaria and its deliverance, and the secondary episodes of the two women, the king’s attempt on Elisha and the doubting aide,

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Rehm, Das zweite Buch der Könige, 70. Twice, we come across the turn of phrase: “Behold, they are as all the multitude of Israel”. 181 Würthwein, Die Bücher der Könige, 309. 182 Stipp, Elischa, 357. 180

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and the story of the lepers.”183 But, he adds: “The story’s unity is also demonstrated by its uniform literary character. While displaying a broad epic perspective, it integrates its folkloristic elements into a single unit, in which humor, though macabre, is the dominant vein.”184 2.6.2. The level of the event Classification of the events These stories contain almost all the elements that we came across in the other stories:

1. 3. 4. 5. 6. 10. 11.

occasion counsel decision by the king prophetic appearance I divine intervention flight prophetic appearance II

6:8–23 8–10 11–12 13–14 15–16 17–20 14–16 21–23

6:24–7:20 24–30 11–13 31 32–2 3–10 17–20

Improvement/turn for the worse The events entail an improvement on two occasions. In both narrative rounds, the king of Aram does not manage to achieve his goal. In both narrative rounds, this is caused by an intervention by God: not through battle, but by manipulation of the senses of the Arameans (respectively sight and sense of hearing). Both narrative rounds end with a meal.

183

Rofé, The Prophetical Stories, 64. Rofé, The Prophetical Stories, 66. Recently, a German exegete contended that it is near impossible to split the text: N.C. Baumgart, “Gottes Gegenwart im Krieg: Zum Zusammenhang zwischen den Erzählungen 2 Kön 6,8–23 und 6,24–7,20”, in: F.L. Hossfeld en L. Schwienhorst-Schönberger (hg), Das Manna fällt auch heute noch: Beiträge zur Geschichte und Theologie des Alten, Ersten Testaments (Fs. E. Zenger), Freiburg 2004, 57–76. 184

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c. Actors The actantial scheme in the first narrative round is:

YHWH

horse and chariot, army

capturing of the man of God/Elisha

king of Aram

horse and wagon made of fire, blinding

As before, the hostile king does not reckon with the destinateur YHWH. Although he knows that Elisha can predict his plans thanks to YHWH, he still thinks he can capture Elisha with horse and wagon. Elisha is consistently called ‘the man of God’ instead of Elisha in the beginning of the story, in order to emphasize that the story is about YHWH rather than about any special qualities Elisha may possess. A striking aspect in this actantial scheme is that the king of Israel was not included in the scheme. His role hardly matters to the dynamic of the story. His presence can be seen as a ‘roofing tile’ to the next story; he only appears in the story, because narrative round 1 forms the background to narrative round 2:

YHWH

Conquering of Samaria

Entire army, hunger, conflict king-Elisha, captain

Ben-hadad

Elisha, sound in the night, leprous men, servants of the king, gatekeeper

The unbelief of the king and his captain are striking in this story. Three times, they do not believe that YHWH will be able to save them. In scene 2 (“If YHWH cannot save you” vers 27), in scene 3 (“could such a thing happen” vers 2) and in scene 5 (“I will tell you” verse 12). In this sense, the king of Israel is also disregarding YHWH as destinateur and places himself at the same level as his colleague from Aram. We can side with LaBarbera, who states: “Whether they operate from Samaria of Damascus makes no difference. In these narratives kings, officials,

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and soldiers are without effect in every military situation, despite all their horses and chariots.”185 Time There are not so many indications of time in these stories. The first can be found in 6:14 ‘by night’. De army of Aram surrounded Dothan by night, only to be noticed by Elisha’s servant early in the morning in verse 15. The first and the second story are connected to each other with the vague word ‘some time later’ in 6:24. This was probably kept vague on purpose, in order to place the ‘great’ feast, in verse 23, in contrast with the ‘great’ famine in verse 25. In the second story, we can find just two indications of time. In verse 5 the phrase ‘at twilight’ and in vers 9 ‘until the morning light’. This shows that the stories reflect each other in this respect, too. In the first story, the Aramean army arrives in the night to be discovered in the morning. In the second story, they leave in the evening, but their departure is only discovered the next day by the inhabitants of Samaria. Place There are comparatively many indications of place in these stories. Especially in the second story, the place of action matters to the story line. In the first story, there is a vague indication of place in verse 8: ‘in such and such a place’. In verse 14, the decor shifts to Dothan. From the stories on Elisha, it becomes clear that he was traveling around. Stories on Elisha take place on the Karmel, in Sunem and in the wilderness of Edom. Dothan was an ideal city to situate this story in. It was situated about 20 kilometers north of Samaria. In this manner, the king of Israel could be left out of the story and it is a distance that that can easily be covered in a day. From verse 20 onwards, the story takes place in Samaria. In the second story, the wall and the city gate are the places that form the background of the stories on the theme ‘famine’. In verse 26, the city wall is the place of action for the story of the two women who eat their own sons. In 7:3, the four leprous men return to the city and announce their discovery at the gate in verse 10, after their exploratory

185

LaBarbera, “The Man of War”, 637.

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trip to the army camp of Aram in verse 5. At the end of the story, in verse 18, the normalized prices for food are announced in the city gate. In the middle of the story, we find the mirror image of Elisha’s house (6:32) and the king’s house (7:11). The theme of the doubt and unbelief of the king is connected to these houses. Lastly, there are two more indications of place: the Jordan and the army camp of Aram. 2.6.3. The level of the story Interventions in the order of time We come across many interventions in the order of time in this story. Probably, this is due to the theme of the story: Elisha who sees and/ or can let things be seen or who hears and/or can let things be heard that cannot be seen or heard by others, thanks to YHWH. The first flashback can be found in verse 6:12, when one of the servants of the king of Aram tells him how it is possible that the king of Israel keeps knowing about his war plans. Secondly, we find anticipation to the vision of the heavenly armies in verse 6:16, when Elisha tells his servant “for there are more with us than there are with them”. Verse 6:28 can be regarded a flashback. We hear the story of a woman who made a gruesome agreement with another woman. Then, there is more anticipation in 6:32, when Elisha, sitting in his house, foresees that the king is approaching. The prediction of the liberation in 7:1 and the fate of the messenger in 7:2 are also an anticipation of what is still to come. Finally, 7:6–7 is a rather elaborate flashback, when we hear retrospectively what happened in the Aramean army camp—the army fled as fast as it could.186 We could also consider the hypothesis of the king of Israel in 7:12 as a sort of hypothetical flashback. This latter flashback connects the king of Israel to his Aramean colleague in 6:11 in a very ironic manner. The speculations of both kings are wrong. We note that the anticipations consistently concern the prophet, while the flashbacks concern the kings. The prophet provides, the king observes in hindsight and even that he is not always capable of doing (in the case of the misery of his people in 6:28, as well as the

186 Long, “Framing repetitions”, 392: “[. . .] it (i.e. the analepsis) dramatizes the hidden causality that matters most: Yahweh’s power to thwart the Arameans, mystify the lepers, and mock the king’s perception of reality.”

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liberation in verse 7:12). Both the Aramean and the Israelite king can thus be said to be blind. Tempo The tempi in the story are as follows: 24 verses are told in ‘summary’; the tempo ‘scene’ can be found in 21 verses and there is one ellipse, namely in between both stories. The two tempi combined form a balance, as we saw before. The summary is used mainly as the tempo for acts of war. Distribution of representational time The representational time is distributed over the narrated events as follows: 1. 3. 4. 5. 6. 10. 11.

occasion counsel decision by the king prophetic appearance I divine intervention flight prophetic appearance II

3 2 2 2 4 0 3

+ + + + + + +

7 3 1 4 8 3 4

= 10 verses = 5 verses = 3 verses = 6 verses = 12 verses = 3 verses (1)187 = 7 (4) verses

It should be reported that part of the reason that the element ‘divine intervention’ turns out to be a rather large part of the story, is that we classified the discovery of the four leprous men here. Even then, it is striking that YHWH appears rather prominently in this story. It is also striking that the battle is entirely absent in both stories. Focalizations This text features as much as eleven focalizators: the external focalizator: verse 8–11, 14, 17–18, 20, 23–26, 30, 32–33, 3, 5–8, 10–11, 14–18, 20 the king of Aram: verse 8, 11, 13 Elisha: verse 9, 16–20, 22, 32, 1–2, 18–19 the officers of the king of Aram: verse 12

187 This depends on whether or not one counts the last three verses, which are duplicates.

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de servant (‘boy’) of Elisha: vers 15, 17 the king of Israel: verse 21, 27–28, 31, 33, 12, 14 the women: verse 26, 28, 29 the captain: verse 2, 19 the leprous men: verse 3–6, 8–10 the army of Aram: verse 6 and the servants of the king of Israel: vers 13 In the first narrative round, it is especially Elisha who focalizes. These focalizations are of great importance, because the entire story revolves around the ‘to see or not to see’. We only see the salvation, when we look over the shoulder of the seer Elisha. In the second narrative round, this is very different. Elisha is heard remarkably little. Only thrice in the beginning (and again at the end in retrospective—verse 19). In this second narrative round, the focalizations are therefore more often external than internal. Effects of focalizations Without exception, the focalizations have a critical effect. In the first place, the king of Aram and the king of Israel come to be on the same page because of their focalizations. Both tried to take the prophet captive and/or to kill him, both tried to do so by sending a messenger. Elisha moreover pours salt in the wound in the first narrative round, when he says that the king of Israel did not take the Arameans captive with his own sword and bow (6:22). In the second narrative round, it is the subjects of the king of Israel who get through to him on the issues of doom and good fate: firstly, the women in 6:26–30 and subsequently the leprous men in 7:10. The servants and subjects of both kings turn out to have a considerably sharper view on reality than their king. 2.6.4. The level of the text Repetitions of sounds/play with sounds This text features many instances of repetitions of sounds and play with sounds. According to LaBarbera, there is a play with words in 2 Kings 6:9: “He (i.e. Elisha) commands the king to ‘be careful (hiššamer) . . . because there Aram (ki-šam aram)’ Notice the similarity of the two expressions in parentheses. The rhyme is echoed at the end of the unit when we learn the result of Elisha’s warning, viz., ‘. . . they were on alert there’

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(wenišmar šam).”188 The play with words with this stem is the reason that Elisha leads the Aramean army from Dothan to Samaria according to LaBarbera: “This latest raiding party is contained by šomron (root šmr) just as the previous raids were contained by Elisha’s warning, hiššamer (root šmr).”189 There appears to be a repetition of sounds and/or a play upon words in the appearance of both kings: the king of Aram calls his servants: 6:11 (‫ )ויקרא את־עבדיו‬and the king of Israel tears his clothes: 6:30 (‫)ויקרע את־בגדיו‬. This game with words also causes the kings to be equated with each other. Moreover, there seems to be repetition of/play with sounds in the combination of the name of Elisha (‫“ אלישׁע‬God saves”) and the statements by the king of Israel in 6:27: “If YHWH cannot save you”— ‫“—אל־יושׁעך יהוה‬how could I save you”—‫ ?מאין אושׁעך‬Despite the two good news prophecies in both narrative rounds, Elisha is not seen as someone who brings good fate, by the king, but rather as “evil from YHWH” (6:33). Elisha’s prophecy in 7:1 is especially beautiful:

‫כעת מהר סאה־סלת בשׁקל‬ ‫סאתים שׁערים בשׁקל‬ ‫בשׁער שׁמרון‬190 The fact that the retreat by the Arameans is found out by four (‫)ארבעה‬ leprous men (7:3), is probably a play upon words with the windows (‫ )ארבות‬in the verse directly before 7:3, which YHWH was supposed make in the view of the king’s captain.191 Another play upon words can be found in 7:6, where the Arameans think that they are hearing the armies of Egypt (‫)מצרים‬, while in fact the only people approaching are four leprous men (‫)מצרעם‬.192 All this play with words give an ironic tone to the story. The kings are constantly wrong. They focalize Elisha (“God saves”) as evil from

188

LaBarbera, “The Man of War”, 639. LaBarbera, “The Man of War”, 644. 190 LaBarbera, “The Man of War”, 647: “[. . .] a kind of rythmic vigor that delights alike the ear and the eye.” 191 LaBarbera, “The Man of War”, 648. 192 LaBarbera, “The Man of War”, 649. 189

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YHWH, while they themselves have to admit that they are incapable of saving. Everything is constantly happening differently than they think it will. YHWH does not save by calling upon the help of Egypt, but by calling upon leprous men—not by opening windows but by the nerve of four desparate men. Repetition of words The motif words in this text are:

‫( אכל‬food) ‫( ראה‬to see) ‫( ישׁע‬to save) ‫( שׁמע‬to hear) ‫( שׁלח‬to send) ‫( יגד‬to tell) ‫( סוס‬horse) ‫( רכב‬chariot) ‫( חיל‬army)

22, 23, 28, 28, 29, 29, 2, 8 13, 17, 17, 20, 20, 30, 32, 32, 2, 13, 14 26, 26, 27 (and passim in the name ‘Elisha’) 30, 1, 6 9, 10, 13, 14, 32, 32, 13, 14 11, 12, 13, 9, 10, 11, 12, 15 14, 15, 15, 17, 6, 7, 10, 13, 14 14, 15, 17, 6, 14 14, 15, 15, 6

The motif words make clear what is the point of this story. The food is a red thread through both stories, probably as a symbol of the salvation YHWH brings. But opinions differ on the question of how this good fate can be achieved. Both kings trust only in ‘horses and chariots’ based on their political world views, but the intention of the story is to make clear that Elisha and/or YHWH’s word are ‘horses and chariots’ to Israel. Who trusts in these, does not believe his ears (to hear) and his eyes (to see) and can see that “there are more with us than there are with them” (6:16). LaBarbera shared his insight into this central message of the story in his excellent analysis of the verses 6:15 en 17: “The purpose of all this is clearly to contrast the military force of Aram with the army of Yahweh, stressing the superiority of the latter. While Aram has horse (sus) and chariots (rekeb), Yahweh has horses (plural—susim) and not ordinary chariots, but chariots of fire (rekeb eš )

‫חיל‬ ‫סובב‬ ‫העיר‬ ‫סוס‬ ‫רכב‬ ‫ההר‬ ‫סוסים‬

A B 1 2 3 1a 2a

v. 15

v. 17

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3a B’ A’

The frequent appearance in proximity of sus, rekeb, and ayil throughout this whole narrative (cf. 6:14, 15 & 7:6) leads us to expect it in v. 17 but it is not so, for ayil is there omitted. The reason is clear, as the chiasm indicates. The ayil of Yahweh is concentrated in one man, Elisha”.193

Repetition of themes The only theme that is implicitly hidden in the text, is the theme of trust on YHWH as opposed to trust in horses and chariots. The theme is given a different dimension because Elijah and Elisha are seen as the ‘horse and chariots of Israel’. The strength of Israel is not composed of counting the arms but of recounting ‘everything that Elisha has done’ (2 Kgs 8:4). The prophet is the real ‘chariots of Israel and its horsemen’ (2 Kgs 2:12).194 Intertextuality The are many references within the books of Kings. The most obvious connections can be made between our story and the story in 2 Kings 5.195 The two stories feature a girl (‫)נערה‬, respectively a boy (‫)נער‬. In both stories, leprous men play a role, respectively Naaman and the four leprous men. In both stories, there is someone ‘on whose hand the king leaned’—an expression that only occurs in Kings 5:18, 7:2 and 17 in all of the Old Testament.196 Note that it says that by Naaman “YHWH had given salvation (‫ )תשׁועה‬to Aram”. The central word here is to save (‫)ישׁע‬, which is contained in Elisha’s name, and takes on an important place in 2 King 6–7, as we saw. In both stories, the king of Israel tears his clothes as he cries out that he is powerless: 5:7

193

and when the king read the letter he tore his clothes

6:30

When the king heard the words of the woman he tore his clothes

LaBarbera, “The Man of War”, 640. Van Daalen, “ ‘Vertel mij toch al het grote dat Elisha gedaan heeft’: 5. Samenhangen”, 133. 195 For a more elaborate analysis of 2 Kgs 5, see: K.A.D. Smelik, “De betekenis van 2 Koningen 5: Een ‘Amsterdamse benadering’ ”, GTT 88 (1988), 98–115. 196 Stipp, Elischa, 371. 194

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6:27

219

and he said, ‘If YHWH cannot save you, how could I save you?

Many exegetes read a sympathetic gesture into the tearing of clothes and the wearing of sackcloth by the king and conclude that it is a monarchist motif.197 We disagree. We think that the tearing of clothes as a symbol of powerlessness is supposed to underline the king’s limited assessment ability. Smelik correctly notes that such a performance must have been detrimental to the morale of the troops, and must have been intended as an indictment against YHWH and his prophet, who did not bring salvation.198 There are a few connections to the content of 2 Kings 4. This chapter also deals with a woman who is in need. Elisha provides her with oil through a miracle, so that she does not have to give up her two sons. This story is followed by the story of a Sunamite woman who bears a son, looses him through death, and receives him back from the dead. These two women seem to form a contrast to the two women in our story. There are also many connections to 2 King 3. Someone also loses a son in 2 Kings 3, namely king Mesha. In this story, too, the king of Israel did not trust his prophet, and resigns to defeat before the battle has started. In this story, too, the victory happened because of an illusion that was concocted for the enemies.199 These intertextual references sketch the character of a king who held a deep mistrust against everyone. Lasine calls him “not very perceptive or intelligent”.200 He distrusts YHWH in 2 Kings 3:13 (“it is YHWH

197 Würthwein, Die Bücher der Könige, 312: “Der Köning wird übrigens insofern sympathisch geschildert, als er bußfertig dargestellt wird.” Stipp, Elischa, 345, also speaks of a ‘Bußakt’ and ‘religiöse Sonderleistung’ and although he admits that this story element stands “auffällig isoliert im Kontext”, he agrees with Schmitt who states: “man erwartet nämlich, daß dieses Verhalten des Königs nicht unbelohnt bleibt, sondern die Gottheit als Antwort darauf die Rettung eintreten läßt.” By now, it should be clear that we want to change this view 180 degrees: the king’s deed is not an act of penalty, but an expression of powerless rage aimed at God—a rage that the king is about to take out on the man of God. In this interpretation, this story element is not at all isolated of the rest of the story. 198 Smelik, 2 Koningen, 50. Van Daalen, “ ‘Vertel mij toch al het grote dat Elisha gedaan heeft’; 5. Samenhangen”, 123, calls the fear of the king “premature”. 199 Smelik, 2 Koningen, 52. 200 Lasine, “Jehoram and the cannibal mothers”, 43.

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who has summoned us, three kings, only to be handed over to Moab.”), the king of Aram in 2 King 5:7 (“Just look and see how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me.”), the two women in 2 Kings 6:27 (“How can I help you? From the threshing-floor or from the wine press?”), and lastly, the Arameans and thereby Elisha’s prophecy in 2 Kings 7 (the theory that the Arameans are ambushed). The theme of ‘horse and chariot’ stands in the middle of a network of texts on Elijah and Elisha, as we mentioned before. Here, we limit ourselves to what was said on this matter in in chapter 2.3 on 1 Kings 20.201 An important intertextual reference is made to 1 Kings 3, the story on Solomon’s judgment. In this story, too, two kings are fighting over a child in front of the king. Often, only a short reference is made to this text, followed by the statement that the king of Israel is portrayed here as the opposite of the wise king Solomon. However, more can be said about this connection, as can be told from two articles that appeared on this matter. The first is by Lasine.202 He states that 1 Kings 3 leaves the reader with the reassurance that certain aspects of human existence, such as motherly love, are “stable and predictable”. Wise kings such as Solomon make use of such constants in order to retrieve the truth. However, it turns out that things are not as stable as they seem in 2 Kings 6. There are situations in which even matters such as motherly love are no longer self-evident, situations in which two mothers speak of their children as if they are speaking about meat. By appealing to biblical and extrabiblical parallels, Lasine tries to prove that this was a topos, expressing that the world had become ‘upside down’. If a king landed himself in such a situation, the only option left for him was to go in mourning. In Jehorams situation, Solomon could have reacted no different, and so Jehoram’s mourning, is “entirely appropriate”203 in Lasine’s view. This king of Israel, Jehoram, is not opposed quite as diametrically to Solomon as it may seem, according to Lasine.

201

Beek, “The meaning”, 3: “Between 2 Kgs ii 1 and xiii 14 the motif words

‫אשׁ‬, ‫ רכב‬and ‫ סוסים‬return more than once. The most interesting in this regard is the text of 2 Kgs vi 13–17. You might read this episode as an illustration of the encouragement given by Deut. xx 1 ‘When you take the field against an enemy and are faced by horses and chariots and an army greater than yours, do not be afraid of them; for Yhwh, your God, who brought you out of Egypt, will be with you.’ ” 202 Lasine, “Jehoram and the cannibal mothers”. 203 Lasine, “Jehoram and the cannibal mothers”, 42.

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Pyper, who is otherwise critical of Lasine’s article, thinks similarly on this issue.204 According to Pyper, we should not only interpret 2 Kings 6 against the background of 1 Kings 3, but also the other way around. This yields a more critical image of Solomon: “In the same way, the world of 2 Kings 6 may actually be Solomon’s world with the skin off, so to speak, a world where the assumptions and pretensions of kings are shown up for what they are—a world where Solomon’s unbending harshness, epitomized in his willingness to divide the child, has led to the division of the kingdom under his son Rehoboam, whose weak attempts at bullying tactics are a parody in themselves of his father’s strength.”205 Pyper’s conclusion is: “By allowing 2 Kings 6 to inform our reading of 1 Kings 3, then, we may be able to understand more fully the subtlety of the portrayal of the monarchy in these texts, not as something either bad or good, but as something that failed as all human enterprise must fail. In that failure, the writers of Kings see revealed both the glory and the shame of human nature, and they seek to indicate the way in which God may use such failure to deepen Israel’s understanding of the conditions for its continued existence as a community.”206 References within the Deuteronomistic history LaBarbera reports on an interesting intertextual link between our text and Genesis 19:11.207 This is the only other place in the Bible in which the word “blinding” (‫ )סנורים‬occurs. This is also a story on hospitality, or rather on the lack thereof. The men of Sodom and Gomorra are struck with blindness, when they want to take hold of the angels who Lot has extended his hospitality to. “Obviously they still think they can see, but their vision does not correspond to reality.” The blinding of the soldiers in 2 Kings 6 is highly ironic according to LaBarbera: “Elisha capturing the soldiers sent to capture him.” The motif of cannibalism refers to such as texts as Leviticus 26:29 and Deuteronomy 28:52–57. It is, however, a topos, which also exists outside of the Bible. Lasine notes on this issue: “Here (i.e. in the Hebrew Bible and Assyrian treaties) as in some tribal societies, cannibalism

204 H.S. Pyper, “Judging the Wisdom of Solomon: The Two-Way Effect of Intertextuality”, JSOT 59 (1993), 25–36. 205 Pyper, “Judging the Wisdom of Solomon”, 34. 206 Pyper, “Judging the Wisdom of Solomon”, 35. 207 LaBarbera, “The Man of War”, 643–644.

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serves as the most violent symbol of a society characterized by lack of trust, disruption of family ties, and advancement at others’ expense. Stories of parental cannibalism can also function as examples of the world-upside-down-topos. In the Hebrew Bible, this topos describes the topsy-turvy behavior of idolaters. However, it also describes characters such as the cannibal mother and the Levite of Judges 19, whose perversity is epitomized by their total obliviousness to the crimes they have committed against those who are nearest and dearest to them.”208 It is an image of the total anomy and anarchy that one who has started to break the Torah’s rules falls into. In combination with the reference to Deuteronomy 20:1, mentioned when we discussed the “horses and chariots”, this text indicates a tight connection between the book of Deuteronomy and the investigated war stories. Who trusts in YHWH, does not have to fear the hostile army; however, who alienates himself from YHWH will eventually loose everything. We found another reference to Deuteronomy in a remark between two brackets by Würthwein: the words ‘threshing-floor’ and ‘wine press’, on which the king bases his suggestion that he should help the two women, also occur in the same combination in Deuteronomy 16:13—a text that speaks of Sukkoth.209 Lasine also points at the possibility of a connection with Isaiah 49:15: “Can a woman forget her nursing-child or show no compassion over the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you.” Implicitly, hope is hidden in this topos, the hop that YHWH will never forget his people, miserable as the situation may be. Metaphors There are no metaphors in this story. Structure The distribution of the motif words makes clear the extent to which these two narrative rounds are tied together. 8–13

208 209

The king of Aram takes counsel with his servants “Can’t you tell me?” “go and see”

Lasine, “Jehoram and the cannibal mothers”, 29. Würthwein, Die Bücher der Könige, 311.

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he was told: see, he is in Dothan. 14

Horses, chariots and a great army

15–20

servant of the man of God rose early. open his eyes! so YHWH opened the eyes of the boy and he saw and behold, the mountaint was full of horses and chariots of fire. strike these people with blinding Elisha leads the army to Samaria Open the eyes of these men YHWH opened their eyes and they saw inside Samaria 21

31–2

3–9

King of Israel: shall I kill him? 22–23

great feast for the army of Aram

24–30

great famine because of the army of Aram

King of Israel: So may God do to me if the head of Elisha

four leprous men in the twilight YHWH had caused them to hear The sound of chariots, of horses, of a great army

10 11–15

“Nothing, but the horses tied” King of Israel consults with his servants “I will tell you” “Go and see” and see, the whole way was full and they told the king

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What is striking about this structure: in the first story, the army of Aram is struck with blindness; in the second, they hear the sound of horse and chariot. In the first story, they are lead into Samaria against their will; in the second, they cannot enter Samaria, while this is their goal. In the first story, the horses and chariots of fire around Elisha are seen, but they do not come into action; in the second story, they do come into action. The first story takes place early in the morning; the second largely takes place in the evening twilight. The two kings are completely equal because of the beginning and the ending. Both consult with their servants, both do not listen to what Elisha has to say. What is more, both stories are set in motion by two punitive expeditions undertaken against Elisha by the two kings respectively. 2.6.5. The theology/ideology of the text Focalization of the king The king of Israel is always called ‘the king of Israel’ by the external focalizator in the first narrative round (6:9, 10, 11, 21). In the second narrative round, he is consistently referred to as ‘the king’ (6:28, 30, 7:2, 11, 12, 14, 17, 17, 18), apart from his introduction in 6:26. He is called ‘my lord king’ by the women in 6:26 and the leprous men speak of him as ‘the king’ in 7:9. Elisha is the odd one by calling the king ‘this murderer’ in 6:32 and by speaking of ‘his lord’ in the same verse, thereby indicating that he does not want to regard the king as ‘my lord’. What is furthermore striking, is that the relationship between the king and the prophet hardly resemble the relationship of government and subject. The opposite is suggested by the way in which the king addresses Elisha in the first story,—with ‘my father’, and the apodictic tone with which Elisha subsequently prohibits the king to attack. We can assume that this was intentional. The king of Aram is simply called ‘the king of Aram’ by the external focalizator in 6:8 en 11. In the second story, he suddenly has a name: ‘Ben-hadad, the king of Aram’ (6:24). His servants also respectfully address him as ‘my lord king’ (6:12). It is striking that the king of Aram is no more than the catalyst of the story in both narrative rounds. He does not make a second appearance in the course of each round. Apparently, he is rather irrelevant for the continuation of the story.

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LaBarbera sees “a cleverly constructed satire on the ruling elite of the day”210 in the way in which the kings are described in the story. Valuation of the war War is considered a disaster in this story. The first time, this valuation is implicitly present in the fact that war is prevented by YHWH. In the second narrative round, war takes on a more dramatic role: hunger, despair and even cannibalism are the consequences of war. Baumgart observes that the first story reflects an ideal, while the second narrative round seems to elaborate on the hideousness of the reality. According to him, the message is that YHWH is not just to be found in the ideal, but that he also operates in times of great need.211 Effect of the valuation of the war on the valuation of the king We have seen that in both stories, the kings come across as a quantité négligable. Wars are disasters and should therefore be avoided as much as possible by people. It is because of the stupidity of these two kings that the two nations twice come to stand at the brink of war. This has everything to do with the misjudged perspective the kings have of reality. The king of Israel sees ‘the evil of YHWH’ in the prophecy in general, and in Elisha especially. He holds YHWH accountable for the misfortune that befalls him. Were he, on other hand, to trust in YHWH, there would not have to be a problem. Focalization of the gods God is only brought up by the external focalizator twice. The first time when he opens the eyes of Elisha’s servant, and afterwards when he strikes the army of Aram with blinding and opens their eyes afterwards. The second time when he causes the army of Aram to hear a sound. In the second story, we hear what is thought of YHWH at the court twice. Both the king and his captain think that YHWH is incapable of saving people (6:27 and 7:2). We have seen that the story revolves around this trust in or lack of trust in YHWH.

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Although other gods are not mentioned, we have seen that the polemic with Baal may well have formed the background to this story. We especially observed this from the connection to 2 Kings 5, where the leprous pillar of the king of Aram is heard: “Now I know that there is no God in all of the earth except in Israel” (5:15). The captain in our story seems to refer to the myths surrounding Baal when he speaks of the ‘windows in the sky’; he seems to be saying “even if YHWH would be a rain god just like Baal, who can place windows in the sky tonight, this would bring Samaria nothing”. The themes rain/drought, fertility/infertility, food/famine come to the fore in the entire cycle of stories surrounding Elijah and Elisha. YHWH continuously beats Baal on his own terrain, which is the area of fertility and abundance, and the area of rain and thunder. Possibly, because there is actually only one God, as even the people outside of Israel have to admit: the widow from Sarefat, Naaman. Relationship between divine and human activity The special aspect about this story is that it seems as if YHWH does not display any own initiative. He seems to act according to the prophet’s demands. He interferes upon the prophet’s request. The underlying thought seems to be that YHWH means well for his people and that all the king and the people have to do is trust in Him. Theology/ideology of the text We see the same basic thought appear from this text as the one we encountered in the earlier texts. YHWH is the destinateur; the one who has the power to release Israel, even if he is not always active on the foreground. The way in which YHWH wields his power, is through his word (7:1, “Hear the word of YHWH”). The only thing that humans have to do, is trust in that word. The king should be an example to his people in doing this, but unfortunately, kings are often infected by the reasoning of state politics, a trait they share with their foreign colleagues. Pyper also sees an encouragement to and an appeal to the exiles in Babylon. In times in which people are thrown upon their own resources, this story, in combination with the story from 1 Kings 3, wants to say: “The people must indeed also be willing to give up their land and their temple, together with their political and religious institutions, and observe instead the remnants of human decency that lead to compassion for all God’s children, not just one’s own family, and this

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will preserve them as community in exile, with the hope of a return to a renewed kingdom.”212 2.7. 2 Kings 18:13–19:37 2.7.1. Introduction to 2 Kings 18:13–19:37 Translation scene 1 13 In the fourteenth year of king Hezekiah, king Sennacherib of Assyria came up against all the fortified cities of Judah and captured them. 14 King Hezekiah of Judah sent to the king of Assyria at Lachish, saying, I have sinned; return from me; whatever you impose on me I will bear. The king of Assyria demanded of king Hezekiah of Judah three hundred talents of silver and thirty talents of gold. 15 Hezekiah gave him all the silver that was found in the house of YHWH and in the treasuries of the king’s house. 16 At that time Hezekiah stripped the gold from the doors of the temple of YHWH, and from the doorposts that king Hezekiah of Judah had overlaid, and gave it to the king of Assyria. scene 2 17 And the king of Assyria sent Tartan, Rabsaris, and Rabshakeh from Lachish to king Hezekiah at Jerusalem with a great army. They went up and came to Jerusalem.

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chapter two When they had gone up, they came and stood by the conduit of the upper pool, which is on the way to the Fuller’s Field. And they called for the king. And Eliakim son of Hilkiah, who was in charge of the house, and Shebnah the secretary, and Joah son of Asaph, the recorder, came out to them. And Rabshakeh said to them, Say to Hezekiah: Thus says the great King, the King of Assyria: What is this trust on wich you trust? Do you say: A mere word of the lips is counsel and strength for the war? In whom do you now trust, that you have rebelled against me? See, you are trusting in Egypt, that broken reed of a staff, which will pierce the hand of anyone who leans on it. Such is Pharaoh, king of Egypt to all who trust in him. But if you say to me, In YHWH our God we trust, is it not he whose high places and altars Hezekiah has removed, saying to Judah and to Jerusalem, You shall worship before this altar in Jerusalem? Now therefore, make a wager with my lord the king of Assyria: I will give you two thousand horses, if you are able on your part to set riders on them. How then can you turn away the face of a single captain the least of my lord’s servants. And yet, you trust in Egypt for chariots and for horsemen?

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Moreover, is it without YHWH that I have come up against this place to destroy it? YHWH said to me, Go up against this land, and destroy it. Then Eliakim son of Hilkiah, and Shebnah, and Joah said to Rabshakeh, Please speak to your servants in the Aramaic language, for we hear it; do not speak to us in the language of Judah in the ears of the people who are on the wall. But Rabshakeh said to them, Has my lord sent me to speak these words to your lord and to you, and not to the people sitting on the wall, who are doomed with you to eat their own dung and to drink their own urine? Then Rabshakeh stood and called out in a loud voice in the language of Judah, and he said, Hear the word of the great king, the king of Assyria! Thus says the king: Do not let Hezekiah deceive you, for he will not be able to deliver you out of my hand. Do not let Hezekiah make you trust in YHWH by saying, YHWH will surely deliver us, and this city will not be given into the hand of the King of Assyria. Do not listen to Hezekiah; for thus says the king of Assyria: Make your blessing with me and come out to me; then every one of you will eat from your own vine

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chapter two and your own fig tree, and drink water from your own cistern, until I come and take you away to a land like your own land, a land of grain and wine, a land of bread and vineyards, a land of olive oil and honey, that you may live and not die. Do not listen to Hezekiah when he misleads you by saying, YHWH will deliver us. Has any of the gods of the nations ever delivered its land out of the hand of the king of Assyria? Where are the gods of Hamath and Arpad? Where are the gods of Sepharvaim, Hena, and Ivvah? Have they delivered Samaria out of my hand? Who among all the gods of the countries have delivered their countries out of my hand, that YHWH should deliver Jerusalem out of my hand?” ’ But the people were silent and answered him not a word, for the king’s command was, ‘Do not answer him. Then Eliakim son of Hilkiah, who was in charge of the house, and Shebna the secretary, and Joah son of Asaph, the recorder, came to Hezekiah with their clothes torn and told him the words of Rabshakeh.

scene 3 19 1 When king Hezekiah heard it, he tore his clothes, covered himself with sackcloth, and went into the house of YHWH. 2 And he sent Eliakim, who was in charge of the house, and Shebna the secretary, and the senior priests,

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covered with sackcloth, to the prophet Isaiah son of Amoz. They said to him, Thus says Hezekiah, This day is a day of distress, of rebuke, and of disgrace; children have come to birth, and there is no strength to bring them forth. It may be that YHWH your God heard all the words of Rabshakeh, whom his lord the king of Assyria has sent to mock the living God, and will rebuke the words that YHWH your God has heard; therefore lift up your prayer for the remnant that is left.

scene 4 5 The servants of king Hezekiah came to Isaiah. 6 And Isaiah said to them, Say to your lord, Thus says YHWH: Fear not because of the words that you have heard, with which the servants of the king of Assyria have reviled me. I myself will put a spirit in him, so that he shall hear a rumour and return to his own land; I will cause him to fall by the sword in his own land. scene 5 8 And Rabshakeh returned, and found the king of Assyria fighting against Libnah; for he had heard that he had left Lachish. 9 For he had heard concerning king Tirhakah of Kus, See, he has set out to fight against you.

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scene 6 And he returned and he sent messengers to Hezekiah, saying, 10 Thus shall you speak to king Hezekiah of Judah: Do not let your God in whom you trust deceive you by saying Jerusalem will not be given into the hand of the king of Assyria. 11 See, you have heard what the kings of Assyria have done to all lands, destroying them utterly. Shall you be delivered? 12 Have the gods of the nations delivered them, the nations that my predecessors destroyed, Gozan, Haran, Rezeph, and the people of Eden who were in Telassar? 13 Where is the king of Hamath, the king of Arpad, the king of the city of Sepharvaim, the king of Hena, or the king of Ivvah?’ scene 7 14 Hezekiah received the letter from the hand of the messengers and read it; and went up to the house of YHWH and Hezekiah spread it before YHWH. 15 And Hezekiah prayed before YHWH, and said: O YHWH, God of Israel, who are enthroned above the cherubim, you are God, you alone, of all the kingdoms of the earth; who has made heaven and earth. 16 Incline your ear, O YHWH, and hear; open your eyes, O YHWH, and see; hear the words of Sennacherib, which he has sent to mock the living God.

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Truly, O YHWH, the kings of Assyria have laid waste the nations and their lands, and have hurled their gods into the fire, for they were no gods but the work of human hands —wood and stone— and so they were destroyed. So now, O YHWH our God, save us, I pray you, from his hand, so that all the kingdoms of the earth may know that you, O YHWH, are God alone.

scene 8 20 Then Isaiah son of Amoz sent to Hezekiah, saying, Thus says YHWH, the God of Israel: I have heard your prayer to me about King Sennacherib of Assyria. 21 This is the word that YHWH has spoken concerning him: She despises you, she scorns you— virgin daughter Zion; she tosses her head—behind your back, daughter Jerusalem. 22 Whom have you mocked and reviled? Against whom have you raised your voice and haughtily lifted your eyes? Against the Holy One of Israel! 23 By your messengers you have mocked YHWH, and you have said, With my many chariots I have gone up the heights of the mountains, to the far recesses of Lebanon; I felled its tallest cedars, its choicest cypresses; I entered its farthest retreat, its densest forest. 24 I dug wells and drank foreign waters,

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chapter two I dried up with the sole of my foot all the streams of Egypt .213 Have you not heard that I determined it long ago? I planned from days of old what now I bring to pass, that you should make fortified cities crash into heaps of ruins, while their inhabitants, shorn of strength, are dismayed and confounded; they have become like plants of the field and like tender grass, like grass on the housetops, blighted before it is grown. But I know your rising and your sitting, your going out and coming in, and your raging against me. Because you have raged against me and your arrogance has come to my ears, I will put my hook in your nose and my bit in your mouth; I will turn you back on the way by which you came. And this shall be the sign for you: This year you shall eat what grows of itself, and in the second year what springs from that; then in the third year sow, reap, plant vineyards, and eat their fruit. The surviving remnant of the house of Judah shall again take root downwards, and bear fruit upwards;

213 H. Tawil, “The historicity of 2 Kings 19:24 (= Isaiah 37:25): the problem of ye’orê Ma ôr”, JNES 41/3 (1982), 195–206. Tawil is trying to build a case for his point that ‫ מצור‬can impossibly have meant Egypt, either in a literary or in a historical sense. Sennacherib never went to Egypt. On the other hand, he frequently boasts about his water management skills: his capital Nineveh was supplied of water from the mountain Musri north of Nineveh through aqueducts and canals. Again, a distinction should be made between the historical and literary level. A writer in Babylonian exile will have attributed Esarhaddon’s proud remarks on his conquests in Egypt to Sennacherib, lacking awareness of the geographical specificities of the area around Nineveh. Moreover, boasting about the arms of the Nile fits better with the hyperboles about the cedars of Lebanon than with a water construction project, impressive as the latter may be.

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for from Jerusalem a remnant shall go out, and from Mount Zion a band of survivors. The zeal of YHWH of hosts will do this. Therefore thus says YHWH concerning the king of Assyria: He shall not come into this city, shoot an arrow there, come before it with a shield, or cast up a siege-ramp against it. By the way that he came, by the same he shall return; he shall not come into this city, says YHWH. For I will defend this city to save it, for my own sake and for the sake of my servant David.

scene 9 35 That very night the messenger of YHWH set out and struck down one hundred and eighty-five thousand in the camp of the Assyrians; when they arose in the morning, they were all dead bodies. 36 And king Sennacherib of Assyria left, and went, and returned to Nineveh. 37 As he bowed down in the house of his god Nisroch,214 his sons Adrammelech and Sharezer killed him with the sword, and they escaped into the land of Ararat. His son Esarhaddon succeeded him.

214 See G.W. Vera Chamaza, “Sennacheribs letzte Ruhestätte”, BZ 36 (1992), 241–249. He does not see the name of this otherwise unknown deity as a degeneration of the name of an Assyrian god, such as Ninurta. He thinks the name is associated with the word ‫נסך‬, which means “idol, cast image” (compare to Is. 41:29 and 48:5). Especially, see 249: “Durch diese Anspielung wird der Gott des Assyrers, deren Beziehung zueinander der Text durch das Possessivpronomen besonders hervorhebt, als ‘Götzenbild’ qualifiziert. In Wirklichkeit ist er also ein von menschlichem Händen angefertigtes ‘Götzenbild’, das nicht vermag, weil er vergänglich ist, das von Jahwe für seinen ‘Schützling’ bestimmte Schicksal zu ändern [. . .] Der Deuteronomist will damit sagen: Nur Jahwe allein hat das Geschick der Menschen in seinen Händen.”

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Introduction to the chapter The chapters 2 Kings 18–20 belong to the most frequently discussed parts of the Bible, so we venture out on our analysis of this story with some hesitation. We will discuss the state of research, narrowing it down to the state of historic research and the state of literary criticism. First of all, these chapters come with historical questions. Recently, Gallagher carried out an in-depth study into this matter.215 He adopts a maximalist position with respect to the historical reliability of 2 Kings 18–20. In other words, he comes to the conclusion that this story contains historically correct information, save a few details.216 Although we do not share his estimation, he offers a very interesting reconstruction of the events in the years 705–701, by using of a multitude of different sources. His analysis moreover makes clear that the story can indeed be read as a logical sequence of events. Even though Gallagher cannot prove that it happened in this way, he does prove that it could have happened in this way. Not all tensions that exegetes think to observe in the story are actually there. His reconstruction is the following: Sargon II was charging his vassals with heavy duties for the construction of his new capital Dur-Sharrukin (Sargonsburg). The costs were very high, both in terms of money and

215 W.R. Gallagher, Sennacherib’s Campaign to Judah: New Studies (SHANE vol. XVIII), Leiden 1999. 216 Perhaps the following two examples can shine some light on Gallaghers research method. On p. 201, Gallagher says on the matter of the ‘Judean’, which is apparently spoken by the Rabshakeh, that it corresponds to what we know about international diplomacy in the eighth century. “Once again, if this exchange between the Rabshaqeh and the Judean officials is a late fabrication, then the storyteller was probably an accurate historian. He knew to what extent Aramaic had spread in Judah.” While Garbini had argued much earlier, and more convincingly in our opinion, that even the name “Judean” as an indication of the language of the Southern Kingdom is post-exilic. It does not seem likely to him that the Judeans changed the name of their language directly after the fall of the Northern Kingdom. He thinks all evidence points at the time of the exile as the time of introduction, when Judean became an important factor in upkeeping the Judaean identity. In this perspective, it is understandable that a highly placed Assyrian speaks Judean “as if nowadays a pure Yankee American minister were to speak Basque [. . .]” Says G. Garbini, History and Ideology in Ancient Israel, London 1988, 47. Another example is the effort made by Gallagher, on p. 241–247, to show that epidemics occurred with some regularity in the densely populated Assyria, and also frustrated military campaigns. All of this to explain the miraculous ending of the story, during which 185.000 Assyrian soldiers die in one night. He also refers to the well-known passage by Herodotus on the mice plague Sennacherib supposedly suffered from. Cogan and Tadmor, however, argued earlier on that Herodotus cannot be used as a separate source, because it seems probable that the story travelled to Egypt via the Judeans, where Herodotus may have heard it. See Cogan en Tadmor, II Kings, 251.

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in terms of human lives (i.e. prisoners of war). In 706 B.C., Sargon inaugurates his new city in the presence of “the vassals of the lands”, as he writes himself; so, possibly also in the presence of Hezekiah. Those vassals were probably not just witness to all the grandeur, but also to the looming instability of the empire. We can tell this from letters that show that the population suffered greatly from the duties. These letters describe great unrest, especially in Babylon. It must have shocked both friends and enemies when Sargon was killed, in the battle against a rebellious vassal in a far corner of the empire, just a year later. Gallagher writes: “We must not underestimate the hopes raised by the news of Sargon’s death. If a mere chieftain in the back country could inflict such a disastrous defeat on the empire, then the symptoms of weakness within the empire were, perhaps, more than mere wishful thinking.”217 Add to this the fact that Sennacherib initially comes across as being rather impressed with the situation. He leaves his father’s new capital behind and has soothsayers investigate what his father’s sin could have been for dying such a horrible death.218 In Babylon, king Merodach-Baladan (Marduk-apla-idinna) who was driven out in 703 B.C., manages to take back power for nine months and concocts an alliance against the Assyrian empire. Perhaps, we can date the story in 2 Kings 20 on the messengers from Merodach-Baladan to this year.219 The alliance probably took a gamble, hoping to take a hold on the Assyrian empire by attacking from two sides: from Babylon, in the East, supported by Elam, and from Judah, in the West, supported by Egypt, potentially with support from the Arabs in the South. Gallagher argues that the oracles on Babylon in Isaiah 13–14 indeed relate to Babylon and not to Ashur, which is often thought. Babylon’s fall caused great commotion, because it was clear that Sennacherib’s next goal would be the rebellious vassal Judah.

217 Gallagher, Sennacherib’s Campaign to Judah, 269. Another vision is held by E. Vogt, Der Aufstand Hiskias und die Belagerung Jerusalems 701 v. Chr. (AnBibl), Rome 1986, 1. Vogt thinks that Sennacherib had two quiet first years of his rule, during which he could concentrate on the reconstruction of Nineveh. 218 See H. Tadmor, B. Landsberger, S. Parpola, “The Sin of Sargon and Sennacherib’s Last Will”, SAAB III/I (1989), 3–52, who have a different view on this text and its meaning. See chapter 3.4. 219 Another possibility is that this visit took place between 722 and 710, when Merodach-Baladan was in power in Babylon, but it is very questionable whether Hezekiah was inclined to consider rebelling in those days.

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In Gallagher’s vision, what is next described in 2 Kings 18–19 is a completely logical sequence of events. Firstly, Hezekiah tried to turn away the looming disaster when he confessed he was guilty (2 Kgs 18:13–16). Hezekiah question “Return from me, whatever you impose on me I will bear” (2 Kgs 18:14) proves, in Gallagher’s view, that Hezekiah still feels he is strong enough to impose conditions: leave first, so that there can be a normal vassal-relationship again. Sennacherib implicitly admits that this happened eventually in his annals, because in them, he writes that Hezekiah sent his tribute to Nineveh later on. Before this, Sennacherib nevertheless attempted to conquer Jerusalem. This is underlined by the evolution observed by Gallagher in Rabshakeh’s speeches and letters. In the first speech, Hezekiah is not addressed as king and the people are summoned to get rid of Hezekiah. Sennacherib’s premonition that he will not achieve this can be told from the letter in which it implicitly shines through that he considers Hezekiah to be “politically relevant” again by addressing him as “King of Judah”. Eventually, he was obliged to accept the settlement proposed by Hezekiah, according to Gallagher. In the historical area, two problems remain standing. The one is the mention of Tirhaka (Taharka) in 2 Kings 19:9. Tirhaka supposedly became Pharaoh around 690 B.C. at the age of twenty, which means he was born in 710 B.C. and was nine years old in 701 B.C. Moreover, Sennacherib never went to Egypt according to the sources known to us, and he never fought against Tirhaka, unless the text is speaking of the battle for Elteke. His son Esarhaddon was in Egypt in any case. Esarhaddon saw his first battle in Egypt turn into defeat in the year 675 B.C. Most historians and exegetes therefore assume that the writer of our story somehow confused Esarhaddon’s defeat with Sennacherib’s remarkable defeat in 701 B.C., or perhaps he purposefully related them to each other. There is little support left anymore for the theory that we have to do with two of Sennacherib’s campaigns in 2 Kings 18–19, the second of which was not mentioned by Sennacherib in any of his annals.220 However, there are also some theories that Tirhaka

220 C. van Leeuwen is a representative of this view: “Sanchérib devant Jérusalem”, OTS 14 (1965), 245–272. More recently: W.H. Shea, “Sennacherib’s second Palestinian campaign”, JBL 104 (1985), 401–418. His article, however, was critically discussed by F.J. Yurco, “The Shabaka-Shebitku coregency and the supposed second campaign of Sennacherib against Judah: a critical assessment”, JBL 110 (1991), 35–45.

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was older in 701 B.C. and possibly involved in the battle at Elteke as co-regent and general.221 The second historical problem is the phrase ‘in the fourteenth year’ in 2 Kings 18:13. If Hezekiah became king in the third year of Hoseah and was king for 29 years (2 Kgs 18:1–2), he must have reigned from 726–697 B.C.222 In this scenario, 701 B.C. would not be his fourteenth year.223 Generally, it is assumed that this fourteenth year originally referred to the story in 2 Kings 20 on Hezekiah’s disease, in which it is predicted that he has fifteen more years to live and 14 + 15 makes 29 exactly.224 This would mean that the order of stories in 2 Kings 18–20 got rather entangled. Although Gallagher does not say it explicitly, the correct order of events would be the following according to his reconstruction: a. 18:1–12, 14–16 (Hezekiah’s reformations, fall of Samariah), c. 20–21:19 (Hezekiah’s disease and Merodach-Baladan’s delegation), b.18:13, 17–19:37 (Sennacherib’s campaign), d. 20:20–21 (final remarks on Hezekiah). With that, we have naturally arrived at our next topic of discussion: literary criticism. The most logical thought would be to identify parts b. and c. as secondary. These are exactly the two parts that we can find in the parallel text Isaiah 36–39. Smelik argued that these chapters fit better in the Bible book Isaiah, as a bridge between Proto- and Deutero-Isaiah than they do in the Bible book Kings.225 His vision stands in contrast to theories that were conventional in Old Testament research, which always assumed that the chapters were originally

221 K.R. Veenhof, Geschichte des Alten Orients bis zur Zeit Alexanders des Großen (Grundrisse zum Alten Testament, ATD Ergänzungsreihe 11), Göttingen 2001, 259 en 267. 222 Such is the most recent theory of G. Galil, The Chronology. In other texts, 727–699/8 is often abided by. 223 See, among others. Cogan en Tadmor, II Kings, 228 224 Another suggestion is made by A. Catastini, “Il quattordicesimo anno del regno di Ezechia (2 Reg. 18,13), Hen 4 (1982), 257–263. He sees “fourteen” as 2 × 7, a symbolic number. See p. 262: “Il quattordecimo anno del re Ezechia ha qui la precisa funzione di fare un parallelo con il settimo del re Osea per quanto riguardava il pericolo assiro: però Samaria cade, mentre Gerusalemme riesce a salvarsi.” 225 K.A.D. Smelik, “Distortion of Old Testament Prophecy: The Purpose of Isaiah xxxvi and xxxvii”, OTS 24 (1987), 70–93. Also: “King Hezekiah advocates true prophecy: Remarks on Isaiah xxxvi and xxxvii// II Kings xviii and xix” in: Converting the Past, 93–128.

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written as a part of the book of Kings and were only added to the book of Isaiah later on. His most important arguments are: the fact that a scriptural prophet is not mentioned once in the book of Kings, while Isiaiah has stories about kings; the style and themes of the chapters fit better with Isaiah then they do with the book of Kings; the literary character of the texts, with more poetry than is usual in the books of Kings; and the frequent intertextual references to texts in Isaiah. We can add the observation that, if we would indeed leave out b. and c., we are left with a story that displays great similarity in its length, structure and meaning to what is told about he other pious kings, especially about Asa (1 Kgs 15:9–24), about Joash (2 Kgs 12:1–21) and about Amaziah (2 Kgs 14:1–22). These are all Kings that “did what was right in the sight of YHWH” and who used gold and silver from the temple to pay for the help of a foreign king or to pay their duties afer a defeat.226 In contrast to Mullen, we do not see why this motif should be interpreted as a punishment for not completely removing the heights.227 We are inclined to interpret it as a Deuteronomistic motif based on Deuteronomy 17:17–18: the king who does what is right in the sight of YHWH does not have to acquire gold or silver, not even gold for the temple; all he has to do is abide by the Torah. The temple will reveal its true treasures later on, when the Torah scroll is found there in 2 Kings 22.228 Smelik’s hypothesis was rejected by De Jong in his dissertation. The arguments he uses to disprove Smelik’s theory are not convincing. To the contrary, while his worthy diachronical analysis of 2 Kings 18:17–19:37 rendered a scala of intertextual references to Isaiah and but a few relevant references to other texts from Kings,229 he calls most intertextual references to Isaiah mere decorative elements.230 We shall see that not only do the intertextual references point mainly in Isaiah’s

226 See S. de Jong, Het verhaal van Hezekiah en Sennacherib: Een synchronische en diachronische analyse van II Kon. 18,13–19,37 (par. Jes. 36–37) (diss.), Amsterdam 1992, 118, for an interesting synopsis of all texts on the gold and silver in the temple. 227 Th. E. Mullen, “Crime and punishment”. 228 Also see our introduction to this second chapter. 229 The most important intertextual reference to the ‘spirit’ in 2 Kgs. 19:7, after the story in 1 Kgs. 22, was not noticed by De Jong. He also only mentions as an aside on p. 155 the fact that Hezekiahs going up to the temple and his prayer (2 Kgs. 19:14–19) show a strong resemblence to Solomon’s prayer in 1 Kgs. 8. This is all the more surprising, because De Jongs Ph.D. supervisor wrote his own Ph.D. on Solomon’s prayer. E. Talstra, Het gebed van Salomo: Synchronie en diachronie in de kompositie van 1 Kon. 8:14–61, (diss.) Amsterdam 1987. 230 De Jong, Het verhaal van Hezekiah en Sennacherib, 235–236.

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direction; the literary characteristics of this story are also very different from those in the other stories in the books of Kings. All literary critics agree on one thing: 2 Kings 18:13b–16 has a different source than 2 Kings 18:17–19:37. The first tends to be called ‘A’ and the second ‘B’. This split has strong credentials: the fact that A does not exist in Isaiah, the fact that A shows strong similarities to other annal-like parts of the book Kings in terms of it’s style, and the fact that facts mentioned in A show very strong similarities to what Sennacherib tells about his campaign in his annals. Most exegetes since Stade231 subdivide B into B1 (18:17–19:9a, 36–37) and B2 (19:9b–35). Gallagher nicely shows how the stories are similar to each other in his synopsis.232 For this and other reasons, we agree with Smelik that B should be seen as one entity; who splits the story with Stade, walks straight into “the trap the author has set for the reader.”233 De Jong is the only author who has yet another analysis. He divides the story into five layers.234 Again, we value De Jong’s observations, but have to consider his explanatory model rather speculative.235

231 B. Stade, “Anmerkungen zu 2 Kö. 15–21”, ZAW 6 (1886), 156–189. Recently: A. Laato, “Hezekiah and the Assyrian crisis in 701 B.C.”, SJOT 2 (1987), 49–68, who gives a decent overview of literary-critical research. 232 Gallagher, Sennacherib’s Campaign to Judah, 154–155. 233 Smelik, “King Hezekiah advocates true prophecy”, 109. 234 I = 18:13–16 (this is the same as the old layer A)—a pre-deuteronomistic notice on the gold in the temple , perhaps from a (temple) chronicle. II = 18:17a–19b, 19d–20e, 22a–b, 23a–24b, 37a–19:1e, 19:15a–e, 16a–c, 19a–20e, 33a–a’, 33d, 34a–36c. This layer shows resemblances to several psalms and alludes to the texts from Isaiah 1–39. This layer forms a complete story in which Hezekiah, probably from Josiah’s time, is represented as truely Davidic, a pious king, who defers disaster from Jerusalem with his prayer in the temple. III = 18:17a, 19c, 21a–g, 25a–34c, 36a–e, 19:2a–14d, a5f, 16d–18c, 21a–22b, 23a, 27a–29a, 30a, a’, c, 32a–e, 33c, 34a, 35f, 36d–37e. This is a part of the text in which Egypt and trust in Egypt play a large role, as does the motif “mocking the living God”?. In this part, we find back much of the jargon and motifs used in the book of Jeremiah. De Jong dates this part to Jeremiah’s time (around 588), when Jerusalem was besieged again. Here, Hezekiah is not portrayed as parallel to Josiah, but as a figure who stands in contrast to Zedekiah. The story shows many similarities to the story of David and Goliath in vocaburay and motifs. While David and Hezekiah trusted in a living God, Zedekiah makes the mistake of trusting in Egypt. IV = 19:22c–e, 23b–26d, 31a–b. These are a few interpolations from the time of Deutero-Isaiah. Sennacherib is portrayed as a bragging king and the answer is formed by a good news prophecy addressed to Judah. V = 18:18b’, 22c–f, 24a, 26a, 32b, 35a–c, 37a’, 19:1d, 2c, 29b–f, 30b. These are a few additions from the time of the Chronist. Most have no theological meaning, but they offer extra information and embellishment. 235 Instead of grouping intertextual references together so that ‘layers’ come about—

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Classification of events Like the earlier stories (for example 1 Kings 20), the story in 2 Kings 18–19 falls into two narrative rounds. We will not refer to ‘A’ and ‘B’, but to ‘I’ and ‘II’, in order to avoid confusion with the usual split according to sources.

1. 2. 4. 5. 6. 9. 10. –.

(annal occasion negotiation decision by the king prophetic appearance I divine intervention battle flight death of the hostile king

I 13–16) 17 18–37 1–4 5–7 8–9a

II

9b–13 14–19 20–34 35 35 36 37

We can tell from the narrated events that the story essentially does not differ from the war stories analyzed before. Still, it is striking that Sennacherib’s death—which took place twenty years later—is reported. This classification also draws attention to the fact that element 4, the decision by the king, twice consists of a trip to the temple, where Hezekiah consults Isaiah and/or prays. Improvement/turn for the worse The events in the story without doubt entail an improvement in the position of Judah, Jerusalem and Hezekiah. Actors One could say that the story can be seen as one of the first real propaganda war stories in history. The way in which Rabshakeh tries to which is in fact the method of Talstra and De Jong—we could also suppose that the large number of intertextual references points at a very young text. It would be interesting to verify/falsify Talstra’s method by applying it to a text with many intertextual references, the dating of which is known, for example the Deuterocanonical book of Judith or the gospel according to Matthew. Would a separate ‘layer’ be left over in the gospel according to Matthew, if one were to isolate all references to Isaiah from all texts that refer to the psalms?

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influence Jerusalem’s population can rightfully be called psychological warfare.236 In this story, the actors are trying to convince each other of a certain world view. One could consider this a fight for the actantial position of the various characters. The positions that are clear are the following:

?

Rabshake, Rabsaris, Tartan, a great army

Sennacherib

Hezekiah, Eliakim, Shebnah, Joah

In other words: it is clear that Sennacherib wants to achieve something, but neither his overall aim of war nor his specific aim at this moment is clear. Hezekiah initially hopes that Sennacherib only wants to restore his authority and therefore capitulates (“I have sinned” 18:14), offering to pay the duty demanded.237 It turns out Sennacherib wants more:

236 Gallagher, Sennacherib’s Campaign to Judah, 174–186, compares Rabshakeh’s speeches to propaganda from the Second World War and finds surprising similarities. He took the technique from E. Ben-Zvi, “Who wrote the speech of Rabshakeh and when?”, JBL 109 (1990), 79–92. 237 We purposefully analyse the story in the form in which it lays before us. This is not a harmonisation, because it would only become that if we pretend to offer a historic reconstruction. It is interesting to perceive what happened to the story, now that the likely historic ending of the story (source A—2 Kgs. 18:13–16) is positioned to be the ouverture of a longer story. While source A and Sennacherib’s analysis show us that an arrangement was probably made in which Sennacherib admittedly did not achieve his aim during battle (the conquest of Jerusalem), but did achieve the aim of battle (restoring the earlier vassal relationship with Judah), source A takes on an entirely different meaning as an ouverture. It now becomes Hezekiah’s offer of peace, which is—as the story suggests—rejected by Sennacherib, ultimately to his own detriment. This could potentially be intertextually connected to Deut. 20:10–12, in which it is prescribed to present a besieged city with conditions for peace and to treat a peaceful answer with clemence. By placing source A before source B and not after it, the redactor is making clear that there is no longer a justification of Jerusalem’s besiegement from the Deuteronomistic perspective. Compare to D.N. Fewell, “Sennacherib’s defeat: Words at war in 2 Kings 18:13–19:37”, JSOT 34 (1986), 79–90, especially p. 81: “When the story opens, Sennacherib comes in the role of destroyer. He controls the scene by his threatening, domineering presence. This presence motivates Hezekiah’s feverish capitulation. Desiring to stop the destruction, the Judaean King has no alternative but to capitulate. However, the positioning of this capitulation scene at the beginning of the story (rather than at the end, for instance) presents even this action as essentially ineffective, for the next scene informs us that the destruction has not stopped.”

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the conquest of Jerusalem. Follows Rabshakeh’s first speech, in which the actantial scheme is filled in. Rabshakeh tries to break Hezekiah’s optimism by discussing two potential destinateurs (“What is this trust in which you trust?” 18:19). “Maybe you trust in Egypt?” is the first possibility he mentions:

Egypt

Jerusalem

Hezekiah

Sennacherib

Well, Rabshakeh declares, Egypt is not in the position of a destinateur. Egypt is an unreliable covenant partner, a view that Rabshakeh shares with prophets such as Ezekiel and Isaiah.238 Another possibility is that Hezekiah is trusting in YHWH. But, Rabshakeh says, Sennacherib came up to fight on YHWH’s orders. This is another point in Rabshakeh’s favour, because it is in agreement with prophecies (in this case) by Isaiah (10:5–19). Rabshakeh turns out to be a faithful pupil of the prophets. Egypt is not the destinateur, YHWH is, but the king of Assyria is YHWH’s destinataire. According to Sennacherib, the actantial scheme is the following:

YHWH

Jerusalem

Sennacherib

Sennacherib

Rabshakeh moreover rubs in Assyria’s military dominance: he is willing to offer his enemy 2000 chariots if they are capable of supplying men. But watch out. Rabshakeh appears to be a faithful pupil of the prophets, but appearances can deceive.239 Taking words out of their context

238 Compare to Is. 31:3: “The Egyptians are human, and not God; their horses are flesh, and not spirit. When the Lord stretches out his hand, the helper will stumble, and the one helped will fall, and they will all perish together.” 239 Smelik, “King Hezekiah advocates true prophecy”, 112: “We have to conclude that Rabshakeh was a diligent pupil of the prophets, especially Isaiah. Only by his misinterpretation of Hezekiah’s cultic reform has he betrayed himself.”

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is a proven method in any propaganda war. The prophecy in Isaiah 10 continues and our story continues to follow the prophet’s scenario. In Isaiah 10, it is mentioned that Assyria may be a “rod of anger” in YHWH’s hand, but Assyria assigns a larger role to himself and considers YHWH to be at the same level as the gods of the other subjected peoples. This is exactly what Rabshakeh achieves in his next speech, addressed at the people:

Ashur

Jerusalem

Sennacherib

Sennacherib

“Do not let Hezekiah deceive you [. . .] by saying: ‘YHWH will surely deliver us.’ ” (18:30), Rabshakeh says, denying YHWH the actantial position of destinateur, making YHWH into a minor helper. He proceeds to portray YHWH as equal to the other gods of nations (18:33). This, now, is exactly what is called “mocking” in prophetic terms. Now Hezekiah can safely consult the prophet Isaiah: YHWH could surely not accept this behaviour! And indeed, Isaiah reveals the true actantial scheme:

YHWH

Jerusalem

A great army, Rabshakeh, Rabsaris, Tartan

Sennacherib

Hezekiah

Hezekiah’s trust, the mocking of Sennacherib, Eliakim, Shebnah, Joah, Isaiah, God’s pledge to David

Time There are few indications of time in the text. The first story starts in the fourteenth year of king Hezekiah (18:13). There is an ellipse in the story in 19:7/8 of unknown length: it is unknown how long the army laid siege to Jerusalem and when Rabshakeh returned. The second round of narration appears to take place on one day: 19:35 “That very night . . .”

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Place Contrary to earlier stories, we find relatively many indications of place in 2 Kings 18–19: 18:17: Tartan, Rabsaris and Rabshakeh move from Lachish to Jerusalem and take position by the conduit of the upper pool at Fuller’s Field. 18:18: Eliakim, Shebnah and Joah go out to the Assyrian messengers. 18:37: Eliakim, Shebnah and Joah return to Hezekiah 19: 1: Hezekiah goes to the temple 19: 2: Eliakim, Shebnah and the senior priests are sent to Isaiah by Hezekiah. 19: 8: Rabshakeh returns to Sennacherib, who has moved his army from Lachish to Libna. 19: 9: Sennacherib’s messengers deliver a letter to Hezekiah. 19:14: Hezekiah goes to the temple. 19:20: Isaiah sends a message to Hezekiah. 19:35: YHWH’s messenger leaves for Assyria’s army camp. 19:36: Sennacherib returns to Nineveh. All these movements form part of the “diplomatic traffic”. With these, the writer seems to want to show at which court history is written in reality. Hezekiah with his three messengers is symbolic of the dilemma of listening to what Sennacherib’s three messengers have to say to him or to what Isaiah, YHWH’s messenger, tells him.240 The movements in both stories are also, elegantly, each other’s mirror image: Narrative round 1: Sennacherib

Tartan, Rabsaris and Rabshake Isaiah

Eliakim, Shebnah en Joah and the senior priests

Hezekiah

YHWH

Eliakim, Shebnah

240 See John S. Holladay jr., “Assyrian Statecraft and the Prophets of Israel”, HTR 63 (1970), 29–51. Holladay draws some intersting parllels between the diplomacy and the prophecy.

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Hezekiah thus stands in the middle between the Assyrian and the heavenly court. He more or less sends same three messengers to both sides. He just replaced the chancellor by priests for the occasion. Narrative round 2 Sennacherib

letter via messengers messenger Hezekiah

Sennacherib

YHWH

Isaiah In narrative round 2, the communications takes place with noticeably less go-betweens. Sennacherib sends a letter by messengers (‫מלאכים‬ verse 9). Hezekiah takes this letter to the temple himself for YHWH to read it. YHWH, finally, comes into action by sending Isaiah to Hezekiah and by sending his messenger (‫ מלאך‬verse 35) directly to Sennacherib. Hezekiah is no more than a go-between in this story, but this is the exactly the form of trust that is expected of him. Jerusalem’s redemption is not his problem, it is YHWH’s. 2.7.3. The level of the story Interventions in the order of time Based on information outside of the text, this being Sennacherib’s annals, we know that the act of paying with the treasuries in 18:15–16 entails the eventual ending of the story. In our view this element is a form of anticipation that evokes a certain tension. We will leave undecided whether this is a narratological tension or a literary-critical tension between two sources that could not be brought together seamlessly. We should however not forget that the information from the annals was not available to most readers during the 2500-year period of interpretation of this chapter. For those readers, the mention of the payment of duties will have had the effect of portraying Hezekiah as someone who wants to avoid the conflict that comes about eventually.241

241 Thoughts differ on the question whether this was intended as a positive or a negative element.

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It now seems as if Hezekiah offered to capitulate; and as if the offer was initially not accepted by Sennacherib. Rabshakeh’s reference to Hezekiah’s reformation in 18:22 is a flashback, as is the reference to conquering the cities of Hamath, Arpad and Samaria in 18:34 and to the deportation of the inhabitants of Hamath, Sepharvaim and Iwwa to Samaria in 19:13. Isaiah’s two prophecies can be seen as anticipation of the happy ending. Tempo In comparison to other stories, the tempo “scene” is remarkably dominant here. The ratio “scene”:“summary” is 44.5:17.5. This is a big difference with the stories we analyzed so far, caused by the long speeches, and especially by Isaiah’s long prophecy. Gallagher noted this, too: “B [. . .] mainly consists of direct quotations of prophecies, speeches or messages. Actual narrative material is sparse and it partly serves to provide the background of the quotes. Only in the final three verses do the quotations end and the Lord’s answer is given through the horrible fate of Sennacherib and his army.”242 One’s attention is further drawn to two very significant ellipses: the first is in 19:8, where Sennacherib suddenly seems to have moved his army camp to Libna. In the following verse, it turns out that a rumour exists about Tirhaka. This increases the tension: is this the redemption Isaiah spoke of a verse before? Another ellipse follows in verse 37. The narrator jumps twenty years ahead to tell about Sennacherib’s death. The suggestion is made that Sennacherib died even earlier than Hezekiah, which is not true.243 As Fewell puts it: “This final summary

242

Gallagher, Sennacherib’s Campaign to Judah, 162. It is a method which was also applied by Sennacherib himself in his annals. By the end of his seventh campaign, he tells that a hostile king has died. Technically, this message is correct. The king died in the winter after the campaign, from a natural death. But in this manner, Sennacherib suggests a connection and covers up for the fact that he was unable to bring his seventh campaign to a succesful ending, due to winter setting in early that year. See chapter 3.4. H. Tadmor also refers to this,— “Sennacherib’s Campaign to Judah: Historical and Historiographical Considerations”, Zion 50 (1985), 65–80: “In 2 Kings 18–19 and Isaiah 38–39, biblical authors, familiar with the Assyrian literary practice, resorted to conventions of their own in the narration of Sennacherib’s campaign: telescoping events retrospectively and introducing a miraculous climax.” (cited from the English summary of this article that was written in modern Hebrew). 243

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telescopes twenty years in order to connect the death of Sennacherib with the Jerusalem event.”244 Distribution of representational time The distribution of representational times over the recounted events is as follows:

1. 2. 4. 5. 6. 9. 10. –.

annal occasion negotiation decision by the king prophetic appearance I divine intervention battle flight death of hostile King

4 verses 1 verse 24.5 verses 11 verses 18 verses 1 verse 2.5 verses 1 verse 1 verse

Again, we see that great attention is devoted to speeches: the negotiations and the prophecies. The true acts of war only take up 5½ verses, not even 10% of the story. Focalizatons The focalizators are, in order of appearance: the external focalizator: verse 13–18, 37, 1–2, 5, 8–9, 14, 35–37 Hezekiah: verse 14, 3–4, 15–19 Rabshakeh: vers 19–25, 27–35, 10–13 Eliakim c.s.: vers 26 Isaiah: vers 6–7, 20–34 the people: vers 36 The small amount of actors in the story and the importance assigned to direct speeches are striking. In other words, the focalizations are mainly internal.

244

Fewell, “Sennacherib’s defeat”, 80.

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Effects of focalizations The focalizations in this story have the effect of increasing tension. Especially in the first narrative round: Rabshakeh packs his speech with a multitude of Old Testament prophecies, which could create real confusion with the reader: perhaps Sennacherib and Rabshakeh are right, and YHWH will actually give Jerusalem into their hands? The next thing that happens is the fearful silence of the people in 18:36, followed by a rather desperate reaction by Hezekiah (“a day of distress, of rebuke, and of disgrace . . .” 19:3) and a rather vague prophecy by Isaiah (“he shall hear a rumour” 19:7). This course of events will hardly inspire any trust in a happy ending. When Tirhaka of Kush pulls up against the enemy—contrary to both the prophets of Rabshakeh’s expectations—confusion ensues: is it possible that Rabshakeh and the prophets were mistaken? It is not until the second narrative round that trust is restored and the tension slowly recedes. Here, it is Sennacherib’s letter that sounds rather forced. Hezekiah’s prayer already sounds more convincing (“you are God, you alone, of all the Kingdoms of the earth.” 19:15) en Isaiah’s prophecy is more explicit here, too. We can even see the turn in the story from the number of verses allotted to each character for advocating their vision:

Round 1 Round 2

Rabshakeh 16 4

Hezekiah 2 5

Isaiah 2 15

Not only is this turn of events exciting, it also has an ironic effect. Fewell writes: “The drama of the story is expressed through the device of ironic reversal. The strong one fails while the weak one survives. The taunter comes to be taunted with his own words. The destroyer comes to be destroyed. The one who has defeated all the gods of all the lands is murdered in the presence of his own god. Who is unable to deliver him.”245

245

Fewell, “Sennacherib’s defeat”, 83.

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2.7.4. The level of the text Repetition of sounds/play with sounds No repetitions of sounds have been discovered in this text. Repetition of words246 The motif words in the text are:

‫( שׁוב‬to return) ‫( נצל‬to deliver) ‫( שׁלח‬to send) ‫( בטח‬trust) ‫( שׁמע‬to hear)

14, 24, 7, 8, 9, 28, 33, 36 30, 30, 32, 33, 33 34, 35, 35, 11, 12 14, 17, 27, 2, 9, 16, 20 19, 19, 20 ,21, 21, 22, 24, 30, 10 26, 28, 31, 32, 1, 4, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 11, 16, 16, 20, 25 ‫ בית‬+ deity (temple of ) 15, 1, 14, 37 ‫( חרף‬to mock) 4, 16, 21 ‫( מלך‬king) 39x ‫( ממלכה‬kingdom) 15, 19 ‫ נשׂא‬14 (demanding payment) en 4 (lifting up prayer) and 22 (lifting of eyes) For such a long text, the number of motif words is relatively small. This is related to the prevalence of prophecies in the text, which open an entirely different literary register, as if poetry compared to the prose stories. In the part 19:21–34 (Isaiah’s prophecy), only the motif word ‘to return’ (verse 33) is used—another indication of the deviatory character of this text. The motif word ‘to return’ nicely marks the beginning, middle and end of the story. From Hezekiah’s “Return from me” (18:14) via Sennacherib’s mysterious return in 19:9 until, finally, the return in 19:36. ‘Returning’ is somehow related to the temple. There is’a line of reasoning parallel to the motif word ‘to return’: from the payment of duties by means of the gold from the temple (18:15) via Hezekiah’s two prayers in the temple (19:1 and 14) to Nisroch’s temple (19:37),

246 See De Jong, Het verhaal van Hezekiah en Sennacherib, 32–90, for a much more elaborate discussion of motif words than what what can be discussed in the context of this study.

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where Sennacherib is murdered by his own sons. We will come back to this observation when we discuss the structure. The importance of the verbs ‘to hear’, ‘to trust’ and ‘to deliver’ immediately draws our attention. In the overview, one glance makes clear that these are central concepts; as deliverance has to do with trusting and hearing. Something else that is striking, is that the first two speeches by Rabshakeh revolve around the motif word ‘trust’ and the motif word ‘to deliver’, respectively. In the first speech, he poses the question ‘in whom does Hezekiah trust?’ in the second he asks who YHWH can deliver (as he clearly cannot deliver Israel). We have already seen that the first question is rightfully asked from a biblical perspective; the prophets never tire from asking the same question. The second question is blasphemous, is “mocking of the living God”. Repetition of themes247 The most important theme present in this text is the recognition formula in 19:19: “Save us, I pray you, from his hand, so that all the kingdoms of the earth may know that you, O YHWH, are God alone.” We encountered this formula in the earlier stories. This story, too, has as its ultimate goal to show who YHWH is. The fame of the Assyrian king clashes with the fame of the living God. The central question is whether YHWH can be compared to the gods and idols of the other peoples or is a God of an entirely different order, namely “God of all the kingdoms of the earth; who has made heaven and earth.” (19:15). It is clear that in trying to date this story, we will have to search for a moment in time when this question was of an essential, even of an existential importance. Then there is the theme of God, who “saves” (‫—ישׁע‬19:19 and 34). In verse 34, the phrase is added that this is done “for my own sake and for the sake of my servant David”. This expression ‘for the sake of David’ occurs passim in the books of Kings.248 In 2 Kings 6, the verb ‘to save’ is used thrice in a negative sense (“If YHWH can not save you, how could I save you?”)249 In 2 Kings 14 it occurs in the critical

247 De Jong, Het verhaal van Hezekiah en Sennacherib, 106–112, finds approximatly the same themes. However, his interpretation of the function of the themes is different on occassion. 248 1 Kgs. 11:12, 13, 32, 34, 15:4, 2 Kon. 8:19, 20:6. 249 As a allusion to the name of the main character Elisha (‫)אלישׁע‬. See chapter 2.6.

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announcement that YHWH delivers Israel through Jeroboam (II) only because “YHWH had not said that he would blot out the name of Israel from under heaven” (14:27). The parallel word ‘to deliver’ (‫—)נצל‬which is, incidentally, only used in our text by Rabshakeh ( just like ‫ ישׁע‬is only used by Hezekiah)—is practically only used in relation to David in the books Samuel and Kings. The temple can also be seen as a theme in this story. In an intertextual sense, we have already mentioned the role of the gold and silver. De Jong, when discussing what he calls “the removal of the precious metals”, notices a tension as this does not play a role further on in the text. Similarly, he thinks it sees a tension in the fact that the cult centralization mentioned in 18:22, does not play a role later on.250 Viewed in this way, there only seem to be tensions in the story. But if we assume that the temple is a theme in itself, we see a beautiful development in the story. From the gold and silver from the temple (18:14–16), which had achieved miracles in the past by buying off military crises, via the apparently controversial cult centralization (18:22) and via both prayers by Hezekiah in the temple (19:1 en 14) to Sennacherib’s murder in his own temple (19:37).251 The message that is contained within this theme is: the protection offered by the temple, is not based on its external appearance including as gold, silver, or the building itself, but in prayer and trust in YHWH.252 Lastly, there is the theme of trust: in YHWH or in Egypt? We will get back to this issue when we discuss intertextuality. Intertextuality 2 Kings 18–19 could be called a showpiece of intertextuality. There are probably little stories in the Bible in which this procedure is used as

250

De Jong, Het verhaal van Hezekiah en Sennacherib, 109. Notice that the nickname of Sennacherib’s son, Adrammelek, occurs in Kings once before, namely in 2 Kgs 17:31, as the name of the gods of Sepharvaim, much mocked by Sennacherib. Coincidence or irony? 252 It is therefore comparable to the story about the ark in the Philistine land in 1 Sam. 4–5. The power that the Israelites expect to find in the physical presence of the ark in this story, is proven wrong, but as soon as the ark is ‘in exile’ in Dagon’s temple, the deity falls down before YWHW with much upheaval twice and is from then on literally be-headed and be-handed. See Smelik, “Hidden messages in the Ark Narrative”, in: Converting the Past, 35–58. 251

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often as in this story, so that we cannot strive for a complete overview in the context of this study. We refer to De Jong’s study again for a very elaborate verse-by-verse-discussion of the intertextual references.253 Here, we shall limit ourselves to the question what the function of the references might have been and we shall do so by sub-dividing them according to the various corpora the text refers back to. References to the book of Isaiah254 a. The indication of place in 18:17 (the Fuller’s Field) is a reference to Isaiah 7:3. By having Rabshakeh c.s. and Eliakim c.s. meet each other at the same place as Isaiah and Ahaz at the time, the question is raised whether Hezekiah will react as badly to the prophet Isaiah as Ahaz did. b. The question in 18:20: “Do you say: A mere word of the lips is counsel and strength for the war? In whom do you now trust” seems to refer to Isaiah 30:15: “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.” c. We quite literally find the comparison of Egypt with a broken reed staff, piercing the hand of anyone who leans on it (18:21) back in Ezekiel 29:6–7. When we discuss the references to Neo-Assyrian texts, we shall see that this image probably originates from Assyrian propaganda, albeit in a deconstructed form. Ideology-wise, we can see a connection to texts like Isaiah 20:1–6, 30:1–5, 31:1–3. Referring to Egypt as an un-trustworthy ally was apparently a cliché that existed both in the Assyrian propaganda and in the prophetic texts. d. Sennacherib’s rhetorical question: “Is it without YHWH that I have come up against this place to destroy it?” (18:25). This is a reference to Isaiah 10:5–6: “Ah, Assyria, the rod of my anger—the club in their hands is my fury! Against a godless nation I send him, and against the people of my wrath I command him, to take spoil and seize plunder, and to tread them down like the mire of the streets.” These last three examples of intertextuality in Rabshakeh’s first speech (b, c and d) are apparently intended to create doubt with the pious King Hezekiah (within the story) and the reader (outside of the story): does YHWH actually intend to bring about Jerusalem’s down-

253

De Jong, Het verhaal van Hizkia en Sennacherib, 113–180. See Smelik, “King Hezekiah advocates true prophecy”, 99–100. The intertextual references to Proto-Isaiah Jesaja are already enumerated here in large part. 254

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fall? If even the prophets are saying it, maybe there is some truth in it? But the text in Isaiah 10 goes beyond this and Rabshakeh goes even further in his second speech, in which we find the next examples of intertextuality. e. The question in 18:33–35 of whether the gods of the surrounding nations were capable of delivering their lands. This is exactly the question Isaiah asks in chapter 10, although he poses the question to the Assyrian king in Isaiah 10:11: “Shall I not do to Jerusalem and her idols what I have done to Samaria and her images?” Sennacherib thinks that he is stronger than the gods, including YHWH. But those who are familiar with the prophet Isaiah know that Sennacherib is an instrument in YHWH’s hands. This is where Sennacherib’s “mocking” starts: he makes Israel’s god equal to the idols of the peoples. And he does not know his place: “Shall the axe vaunt itself over the one who wields it” (Is. 10:15) f. De theme of the criticism on the idols of wood and stone is taken up by Hezekiah in his prayer: 19:18–19. There was no way for gods of the surrounding nations to save their people, for they were no gods but the work of human hands.” We find this back in (Deutero-)Isaiah 44:6–20. One can wonder which text is older, but it seems to confirm that Is. 36–37 = 2 Kgs. 18–19 forms a bridge between Proto- and Deutero- Isaiah (in this case Is. 10 and 40).255 g. In 19:31, we can find the formula “The zeal of YHWH of hosts will do this”. This formula is also used in this form in Isaiah 9:6, the same text that speaks of the prince of peace on David’s throne. “The zeal of YHWH” also appears in Isaiah 26:11, 42:13, 59:17 and 63:15. References to other texts from the Deuteronomistic history h. The motif words ‫( חרף‬to mock) and ‫( בטח‬to trust) also frequently appear in 1 Samuel 17 (David and Goliath). This suggests a connection between these two stories. In both stories, David respectively a Davidide (compare the ending “for my own sake and for the sake of

255 Smelik emphasizes this in “King Hezekiah advocates true prophecy”. De Jong, Het verhaal van Hizkia en Sennacherib, 160, surprisingly refers mainly to texts about the idols in Jeremiah: Jer. 16:20, 10:1–16. This is probably because he would like to ascribe these verses to Jeremian layer III. Although the texts from Jeremiah are probably older than those from Deutero-Isaiah, we also came across the theme of the idol’s powerlessness in Is. 2:8.

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my servant David” 19:34) has to fight a much stronger opponent; and an opponent who mocks the God of Israel and enters a bet with the people. In both cases, it is made explicit that no weapon was used in achieving victory. i. The lying spirit determines the atmosphere of 1 Kings 22. Leene has shown that the spirit should be understood as the spirit of conceit which overtook Sennacherib.256 But this ‘spirit’ also has the connotation of a lying spirit in combination with the verb ‘to deceive’, which is used throughout the text; so that Sennacherib is portrayed as a false prophet here, as is Zedekiah in 1 Kings 22. j. There are interesting parallels between Hezekiah’s and Solomon’s prayer. McKenzie drew up a nice summary of these parallels:257 a. Solomon has hopes of the temple becoming a centre of prayer (1 Kgs 8:27–53), Hezekiah carries out the plan; b. Solomon mentions the threat of an enemy and disease as reasons to pray in the temple (1 Kgs 8:37), Hezekiah does so in both cases; c. Solomon prays for mercy for “your servants who walk before you with all their heart” (1 Kgs 8:23) and Hezekiah claims to be such a servant (1 Kgs 20:3); d. both Solomon and Hezekiah hope that all peoples will come to know YHWH’s name (1 Kgs 8:43 and 19:15, 19). It thus seems that these three references within the Deuteronomistic history have as their aim to portray Hezekiah as a true Davidide, standing in the tradition of David (in his trust in YHWH), of Solomon (in his attitude with respect to the temple) and of Jehoshaphat (in his firm position amidst false prophecies). k. Then, there are the references to the book of Deuteronomy itself. In Rabshakeh’s second speech, he paints the picture of a land of milk and honey (18:31–32) to the people, that they could enter if they surrendered. In doing this, it is as if he takes up the position of God, who led his people to the promised land (Deut. 8:8–10). We can even find the Deuteronomist formula “I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live” (Deut 30:19) back, more or less, in 18:32: “that you may live and not die.”258

256 H. Leene, “‫ רוח‬en ‫ שׁמעוה‬in Jesaja 37,7: Een kwestie van verhaalhorizon”, ACEBT 4 (1983), 49–62. 257 McKenzie, The Trouble with Kings, 109. 258 We are inclined to think that the strange use of the word ‘blessing’ in 18:31 can be related to this intertextuality.

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l. Then, the story in 2 Kings 18–19 is clearly a mirror image of the events in the preceding chapter, when Samaria falls. This also explains the somewhat strange enumeration of cities in 19:12–13. If we compare the list to the list in Isaiah 10:9 (Kalno, Carchemish, Hamath, Arpad, Samaria en Damascus), we can see that the list in Isaiah 10 only contains large cities, which were conquered successively. This implies that Jerusalem is next. What, then, is the meaning of the rather insignificant cities in Rabshakeh’s speech?259 Their meaning must relate to the fact that they are in large part also mentioned in 2 Kings 17:24: they are the cities from which the ‘Samaritans’ came. While a historical Rabshakeh would probably have given an enumeration similar to the one in Isaiah 10:9, it is as if the writer of 2 Kings 18–19 winks at us. The intention of this plea is not to show that Sennacherib is stronger than the gods of the other peoples, but to mislead the reader: we know that Samaria has a different meaning to YHWH than Jerusalem has and that YHWH is incomparably greater than the idols of the Samaritans. m. Finally, a connection is often made between the story of YHWH’s angel who kills the Assyrians, and the night of the exodus in Exodus 12. All of these last three forms of intertextuality (k, l and m) have something to do with the promise of the land, with the exodus, the passage through the desert and the exile. References to the book Jeremiah n. We already came across the fight against false prophets. This is an important motif in the book of the prophet Jeremiah. This is also true for the word “to deceive”, which is used in 18:29: “Do not let Hezekiah deceive you, for he will not be able to deliver you out of my hand” This refers to such texts as in Jeremiah 37:9: “Thus says YHWH: Do not deceive yourselves, saying, ‘The Chaldeans will surely go away from us’, for they will not go away.” Rabshakeh suggests that he is a true (doom) prophet and Hezekiah is a false (peace) prophet. In an earlier article, De Jong pointed at an interesting parallel between our story and the one in Jeremiah 37:1–10, where king Zedekiah and the prophet Jeremiah find themselves in a similar situation as Hezekiah and Isaiah: 259 E. Ben-Zvi, “Who wrote the speech of Rabshakeh and when?”, 88: “So, Rabshakeh is trying to persuade the Judaeans that the King of Assyria is so powerful that Jerusalem, even with YHWH, is powerless against him, by recalling Assyrian victories on petty and remote tribes.”

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besiegement of Jerusalem, the possibility of help from Egypt, a group of messengers from Babylon, asking the prophet to pray.260 He elaborates on this idea in his dissertation, isolates layer III, and sees it as a “Jeremian layer”. He suspects that editing took place at the time of the exile, presumably by a redactor who was in close touch with Jeremian circles. The aim of the texts was to show the Judeans YHWH’s power as opposed to Babylon’s powerlessness. At the same time, the contrast that is drawn between Hezekiah’s trust in YHWH and Zedekiah’s trust in Egypt implies that the story forms an explanation of the exile.”261 References to Neo-Assyrian texts o. The images that we find in Isaiah’s second prophecy (19:23 felling of the trees of Lebanon; 19:24 the drying up of streams;262 19:28 putting a hook in a nose) can also be found in the texts Ezekiel 29:3–4 and Ezekiel 31, as well as in texts and reliefs by the Assyrian Kings. A number of authors went into this, some of them rather elaborately.263 Firstly, some authors discuss the question whether psychological warfare was part of the strategy in Antiquity already. The conclusion is a unanimous yes.

260 S. de Jong, “Hizkia en Zedekia: on the relationship between 2 Kon. 18:17–19:37/ Is. 36–37 to Jer. 37:1–10”, in ACEBT 5 (1984), 135–146. On pp. 136–137 he gives a nice synopsis of all the similarities. 261 De Jong, Het verhaal van Hizkia en Sennacherib, 244. 262 Yurco, “The Shabaka-Shebitku coregency”, 41, makes a few interesting observations. He notes that Sennacherib’s motif of “drying up the streams of the Nile/ Mu ri river” (19:24) has an ironic effect when juxtaposed with Hezekiah, who, with his Siloam Tunnel, may have played a part in making Sennacherib give up the besiegement: “Sennacherib, who boasted of his own might waterworks, had been humbled by Israel’s God, who had stood behind Hezekiah, builder of his own waterworks—the Siloam Tunnel, which ensured a fresh water supply to Jerusalem during the Assyrian siege, fresh water denied the Assyrian besiegers, for Hezekiah had blocked up all the wells as part of his defensive strategy.” 263 C. Cohen, “Neo-Assyrian Elements in the First Speech of the Biblical Rab-šaqe”, IOS 9 (1979), 32–48. E. Ben-Zvi, “Who wrote the speech of Rabshakeh”. Also see Gallagher, Sennacherib’s Campaign to Judah, 189–201. Gallagher compares Rabshakeh’s speech to Second World War propaganda and concludes on pp. 197–198: “Our study has shown that the first speech has several attributes typical of this type of propaganda: the claim to have overwhelmingly superior forces, the recklessness of the enemy strategy, frequent use of rhetorical questions, using the enemy’s own language and expressions, flaunting one’s knowledge about the enemy, responding to the enemy view. This does not prove that an Assyrian originally made the speech, but if one or more Judaeans composed it, they clearly understood the features of this type of propaganda and were brilliant story tellers.”

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p. On the titles: “The titles of the Assyrian King are comparable to those attested in Neo-Assyrian inscriptions. The expression ‫המלך הגדול‬ occurs in the Bible only in Rabshakeh’s speech. However, YHWH is identified as ‫ מלך גדול‬in Pss 47:3; 95:3; and Mal 1:14; cf. ‫ מלך רב‬in Ps 48:3.”264 q. The theme that the enemies of Assyria have a misplaced ‘trust’ (takālu) in their own strength or allies, while the Neo-Assyrian king will always win because he marches ‘trusting in Ashur’ (ina tukulti dAššur) is almost a cliché in the Neo-Assyrian annals.265 r. The motif of the Assyrian king who knows he has been called upon by the enemy’s deity, is not only found with Isaiah, but also in Neo-Assyrian texts: both Sargon II and Esarhaddon bring up the argument with respect to Babylon that they were called upon by Marduk himself.266 s. Even the metaphor of the broken reed for Egypt has a NeoAssyrian origin: “Thus, a typical expression for defeating Assyria’s enemies in the Neo-Assyrian annals is kīma qanê u u u ‘to break (the enemy) like a reed’ ”.267 We can conclude that Rabshakeh and Isaiah’s work methods form each other’s mirror image. While Rabshakeh uses Old Testament prophecies to strengthen his case, Isaiah is playing with the metaphors handed down to him from the Assyrian propaganda machine.268

264

Ben-Zvi, “Who wrote the speech of Rabshakeh and when?”, 82. Cohen, “Neo-Assyrian Elements”, 41: “Thus, Assyria’s enemies trust in their own strength, their mighty walls, their numerous armies, their allies and their inaccessible mountains. Very little else is said about most of them in the Neo-Assyrian annals. For the Biblical ‫ רבשׁקה‬to utilize Hebrew ‫ בטח‬to indicate in what Judah trusted instead of Assyria is precisely what is expected, and certainly may represent a reflex of NeoAssyrian annalistic style.” 266 Cohen, “Neo-Assyrian Elements”, 46. 267 Cohen, “Neo-Assyrian Elements”, 42. There is a small difference in the meaning of the Neo-Assyrian and the biblical expression. In both cases, the similarity is the weakness of the enemy. The enemy breaks of like reed. The difference is that the Neo-Assyrian version is about purposefully breaking the enemy, while in the Bible texts, it is about offering too little support, once the enemy has been broken. What is more, the broken reed wounds the one who wants to lean on it—an ironic or sarcastic extension of a metaphor. 268 As has also been shown by Machinist, “Assyria and its Image in the First Isaiah”. See chapter 1. 265

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Metaphors Again, this story is different from the ones we discussed earlier; while earlier stories were short on metaphors, in 2 Kings 18–19, many metaphors are used.269 An enumeration: 18:21 “broken reed of a staff ” as an image of the treacherous weakness of Egypt. 18:27 “to eat their own dung and to drink their own urine” as an image of the the people’s need. 18:31 “your own wine and your own fig tree” as an image of life in the promised land. This is also true for “a land of grain and wine” in 18:32. 19:3 “children have come to birth and there is no strength to bring them forth” as an image of the anxiety of the city. 19:21 “virgin daughter Zion” as an image of Jerusalem. 19:23–24 “With many chariots . . . all the streams of Egypt”—images that symbolize Assyria’s might. 19:26 “like plants of the field . . . blighted before it is grown” as images of the frailty and impermanence of Assyria’s enemies. 19:28 “hook in your nose, bit in your mouth” as image of the brute methods of deportation employed by Assyria itself, methods they themselves will now be exposed to. 19:29 “This year you shall eat what grows of itself . . . plant vineyards” as image of the patience and endurance that is demanded of the people, while this patience shall also be rewarded. 19:30 “the surviving remnant of the house of Judah, shall again take root downwards and bear fruit upwards” as an image of the uprooted people, who are given back their own place. Assyria may be capable of uprooting the people “like tender grass” (see 19:26), but God is equally capable of replanting the grass and make it take root.

269 In the hopes of offering some clarification: in structuralism, the syntagmatic and paradigmatic axis in a story is as the warp and woof of a texture. Meaning comes about when words like threads with a certain colour (for example intertextual background = the paradigmatic axis) is woven into a pattern through the woof of structure, which in itself is colourless (the structure = the syntagmatic axis). Prose tends to rely more on syntaxis, poetry on the paradigm. Biblical stories rely more on syntaxis, the more bombastic Neo-Assyrian texts more on the paradigm. 2 Kgs 18–19 is different to such an extent that it relies much less on the story, the plot and the structure of the story and much more on the intertextual winks that are made and on double meanings.

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Structure The structure of the story is so beautiful that it is difficult even for that reason to split this text. The story shows both a parallel and a concentric structure. The characters appear twice in a parallel order: the external focalizator (A), Rabshakeh (B), Hezekiah (C) and Isaiah (D). The concentricity comes about because in the mean time, the character’s interests ‘tip’ as if we are speaking of a see-saw, with Rabshakeh on the left, Isaiah on the right and Hezekiah in the middle. The parallel structure: A scene 1: 13–16: capitulation Hezekiah: B scene 2: 17–37: Rabshakeh’s speeches: C scene 3: 1–4: Hezekiah’s complaint: D scene 4: 5–7: Isaiah’s prophecy: A’ scene 5: 8–9a: bad news for Sennacherib: Tirhaka: B’ scene 6: 9b–13: Sennacherib’s letter to Hezekiah: C’ scene 7: 14–19: Hezekiah’s prayer: D’ scene 8: 20–34: Isaiah’s prophecy: A’’ scene 9: 35–37: defeat and Sennacherib’s death:

4 verses 21 4 3 1.5 4.5 6 15 3

A fine balance can be found in the length of the various scenes. The real acts of war (A) are accorded little space: 4—1.5—3 verses. Hezekiah “complaints” (C), which form the bridge between Rabshakeh’s speeches and Isaiah’s prophecies in both narrative rounds, are respectively expressed in 4 (2 in the speech itself ) and 6 (5) verses. Rabshakeh/Sennacherib’s (B) and Isaiah’s (D) speeches are not only each other’s mirror image in an intertextual sense (Rabshakeh refers to Old Testament prophecies and Isaiah to Neo-Assyrian propaganda) but also form a nice equilibrium together in terms of the length: (the length of the speeches themselves is between brackets). The concentric structure: Narrative round I B Rabshakeh 21 (13) C Hezekiah 4 (2) D Isaiah 4½ (4)

Narrative round II D’ Isaiah 15 (15) C’ Hezekiah 6 (4½) B’ Rabshakeh 3 (2)

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The repetitions of words confirm the structure we have found magnificently, if we pay attention to the distribution of the motif words:270 This mirror image structure draws our attention to large number of reflections in the text. We will sum up a few, without the pretence of trying to be complete: 1. twice a speech by Rabshakeh/Sennacherib versus two speeches by Hezekiah and two prophecies by Isaiah. 2. YHWH’s house versus Nisroch’s house. 3. what was heard about the kings of Assyria versus what was heard about YHWH. 4. the use of Old Testament prophecies by Rabshakeh versus the use of Assyrian propaganda by Isaiah. 5. eating the own dung versus drinking your own wine and eating from your own fig tree in Rabshakeh’s promise, compared to eating of fruits in a delivered Judah in Isaiah’s prophecy. 6. YHWH as Creator of heaven and earth versus the gods as invented by people. A (13–16)

B (17–37)

C (1–4)

D (5–7)

A’ (8–9a)

B’ (9b–13)

C’ (14–19)

D’ (20–34)

A’’ (35–37)

Hez. sent:

Rab. returned

Sennach. returned

return! house of YHWH

he had heard

house of Nisroch

he had heard Sen. returned (or: did again) Sennach. sent

and sent trust

trust (8x)

You have heard (fame of Sen.) deliver (2x)

Eliakim: we hear deliver (9x)

270 Also see De Jong, Het verhaal van Hezekiah en Sennacherib, 34–89, for a more elaborate analysis of structure and motif words.

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Table (cont.) A (13–16)

B (17–37)

C (1–4)

D (5–7)

A’ (8–9a)

B’ (9b–13)

C’ (14–19)

house of YHWH

house of YHWH

Has YHWH heard? (2x) mocking

Hear YHWH! (2x)

D’ (20–34)

A’’ (35–37)

mocking You have heard

I have heard

reviled

mocked (2x) and reviled

he will hear something heard (a rumour) and return

have you not heard? (fame of YHWH) he will return (2x)

Al in all, this is a tightly composed structure that also contains remarkable cross-references between the various scenes (in that sense it is a text that can really be described in terms of a texture with a warp and a woof ). A cross-reference between scenes A and C is the location: the ‘house of YHWH’ respectively ‘of Nisroch’. A cross-reference between scenes A and D is the motif word ‘to return’. Another cross-reference is the motif word ‘to hear’: in the scenes B it refers to Hezekiah’s servants of Hezekiah himself, in scene C, it refers to YHWH, in scenes D it is Rabshakeh. The fame of the kings of Assyria (“what the kings of Assyria have done” 19:11) and YHWH’s fame (“I planned from days of old” 19:25) compete with each other in B’ and D’, another sign of the elegance of the text. The meaning of that fame is made clear in the story through the mirror scenes B and D’: in B, Rabshakeh uses biblical prophecies to add force to his own propaganda—in D’ Isaiah uses Assyrian propaganda (vss. 23–24) to support his prophecy. Rabshakeh uses the prophecy to prove that Sennacherib did not march up to Jerusalem against God’s will; Isaiah uses the Assyrian propaganda to show that Sennacherib

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is “mocking” God. This is truly a war of propaganda. It is YHWH’s fame, as “God of all kingdoms of the earth” (19:15) versus the propaganda of the king of Assyria, who feels he possesses the power to destroy all lands utterly (19:11), with not one god being capable of saving his people. In this structure, it also very easy to see how verse 9:9b forms the transition between the two narrative rounds. The verse can hardly fit into this structure. The suggestion is made that the story is brought to an end here (Sennacherib hears something and returns), but then the story continues anyway. It is not that which was heard (the rumour) about some king Tirhaka that brings about the deliverance, but that which was heard about YHWH (his fame as the God of all kingdoms and creator of heaven and earth). The story seems to have reached a final chord, but the final chord turns out to be the overture of the next narrative round. Leene has shown how these motif words ‘to hear’ and ‘to return’ are nicely brought “in a talionic” balance in Isaiah’s first prophecy:271

‫אל תירא‬ ‫מפני הדברים אשׁר שׁמעת‬ ‫אשׁר נדפו נערי מלך אשׁור‬ ‫אותי‬ ִ ‫הנני‬ ‫נותן בו רוח‬ ‫ושׁמע שׁמועה‬ ‫ושׁב אל ארצו‬ ‫והפלתיו בחרב בארצו‬

a b c d d’ c’ b’ a’

Fear not the words you have heard with which the servants of the king of Assyria have reviled Me. I will put a spirit in him so that he shall hear a rumour and return to his own land will cause him to fall by the sword in his land

2.7.5. The theology/ideology of the text Focalization of the King It is interesting to consider how the characters focalize themselves and each other. It is striking how Rabshakeh tones down in the course of the story. First he simply calls Hezekiah “Hezekiah” (without title), while

271

H. Leene, “‫ רוח‬en ‫”שׁמעוה‬, 56.

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he prefers to address his own King with “the great King” (‫= מלך גדול‬ šarru rabû). In his second speech, they have become equals: the king of Judah versus the king of Assyria. Hezekiah seems to be moving in the opposite direction: Sennacherib is initially indicated by him as king of Assyria and in his prayer as “Sennacherib” (without titles). It is strange that the narrator does not follow suit. In the first narrative round, he tends to call Hezekiah “King Hezekiah”, while he uses “Hezekiah” increasingly more often in the second narrative round. He consistently speaks of Sennacherib as “the king of Assyria”. Valuation of the war In Sennacherib’s/Rabshakeh’s vision, the war has a positive connotation: 1. because it is YHWH’s will (18:25) 2. because it will be a blessing for Judah, seeing as that the people will be transported to a land of grain and wine (18:31–32) 3. because the war shows the superiority of the king of Assyria and his gods over the kings and gods of the nations (18:34–35 and 19:10–13). For Hezekiah, the war is 1. “a day of distress, rebuke, and of disgrace” (19:3), but finally 2. an opportunity to let “all the kingdoms of the earth” know that YHWH is “God alone” (19:19). For YHWH, the war is an execution of his will “to make fortified cities crash into heaps of ruins” (19:25), according to Isaiah. Sennacherib is right in this respect. But Sennacherib is arrogant (19:28) and therefore YHWH will redeem Judah. We are under the impression that the narrator closely follows the thoughts in Isaiah 10, in which YHWH uses Assyria as a “rod” and the war as a way to teach Judah a lesson. Effect of the valuation of the war on the valuation of the king The positive valuation of the war as a lesson has an effect on the valuation of the king. The contrast with Ahaz is clear, especially against the background of the intertextual reference to Isaiah 10: Ahaz did not take up on the lesson, but Hezekiah does. Hezekiah reacts as a pious king should: by trusting YHWH. A positive light thus shines on Hezekiah, freeing the way for YHWH to intervene and save. Focalization of the gods What is mainly striking in the focalization of the gods, is the shift we again observe in how YHWH is addressed by Hezekiah on the one hand and Rabshakeh and Sennacherib on the other. Hezekiah carefully starts by calling God “YHWH, your (Isaiah’s) God”, then he speaks of

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“YHWH, the God of Israel” and only at the end does he say “YHWH, our God”. In his prayer, he makes use of a great number of titles to address YHWH and other gods, which each have approximately the same function: to place YHWH in contrast to the gods of other peoples. The contrasts are obvious: “God of Israel” as opposed to “their gods”, “who created heaven and earth” in contrast with “the work of human hands”, “the living God” in contrast to “they were no gods”. We see the exact opposite movement with Rabshakeh. Rabshakeh starts his first speech (18:19–25 and 27–35) with a degree of respect to YHWH, but his second speech (19:10–13) he sounds very distant: “your God, in whom you trust”. In his first speech, he tries to pretend as if YHWH is on the side of Assyria. YHWH almost seems his God, while at the end, it is clearly “your God”. Sennacherib is moreover clear in his position that YHWH is equal to the gods of the other people to him. This is where the mocking starts, as Hezekiah points out: YHWH is of a completely different order than the gods of the other peoples. We find a nice contrast between the kings of Assyria who were too strong for the gods of the peoples (19:11–12) on the one hand, and the God of all kingdoms who sets the king of Assyria straight, on the other hand. The piece of information that Assyria was stronger than the other peoples, was unrelated to the superiority of the god Assyria, while it was related to the fact that the gods of the subjected peoples were not real gods, but of human fabrication. We here have one of the main points of the story: YHWH, the God of Israel, is also the Creator of heaven and earth and therefore the god of all kingdoms (including Assyria). In the phrase “You, O YHWH, are God alone” (19:19), the Shema Israel almost sounds as the creed of the YHWH-alone-movement.272 This thought breaks through the Ancient Near Eastern scheme of national deities (every people their own god). YHWH holds all of human history in his hand since the creation (“I planned it from days of old” 19:25) and it lends meaning and perspective to the doom that befalls Judah. The doom of the exile was a lesson to Judah as well as a clear signal to all kingdoms that YHWH alone is God. Relationship between divine and human activity A clear plan by YHWH is hidden behind the volatilities of human history—is the message conveyed by the text. History may seem chaotic

272

For this term, see Smith, Palestinian Parties and Politics.

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and anti-divine and it may appear as if God allows his people to be defeated, as if he does not prevent that he is mocked and spoken ill of. But: behind the scenes of all of this, God is going about his unknown business. It turns out that there was a plan to the conquests by the Assyrian king. Although the word is not used in this text, the Isaian thought of Assyria as YHWH’s “rod” apparently forms the background to this tale. Assyria is given a certain freedom by God so he will carry out God’s plan: “that you should make fortified cities crash into ruins.” (19:25). When Assyria exceeds this level of freedom, God interferes: “Because you have raged against me and your arrogance has come to my ears, I will put your hook in my nose and my bit in your mouth.” (19:28) Although God can predominantly be found in the background of the volatilities of history, God also interferes directly, according to this text: finally, it is “messenger of YHWH” who determines the end of the battle. Theology/ideology of the text We shall shortly summarize the theological lines of thinking in the story: 1. YHWH, the God of Israel is the Creator of heaven and earth and therefore the Lord of history. 2. This God is of a different order than the gods of the surrounding peoples. This is why he is called the “Holy One”. Anything that takes away from this unique position held by YHWH, is blasphemy, “mocking”. 3. Even though history may mislead people, this God steers history. He even uses Judah’s enemies. 4. YHWH makes his will known via the prophets. 5. Not everything that sounds prophetic is prophetic. False prophecies exist. 6. On the one hand, YHWH is unconditionally connected to the Davidic dynasty, but on the other hand there is an important boundary condition for the success of this convention (Ahaz versus Hezekiah).

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chapter two 2.8. Summary and conclusions 2.8.1. The level of the event

Classification of the events As it turns out, a limited number of the types of events that we previously identified actually occur in the war stories investigated in this chapter. We could speak of the “morphology”273 of the biblical war story. It should be noted that not every event appears in every story; and the order of the events varies, too.274

Type/story (annals) 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11.

1K.12 1K.20A 1K.20B 1K.22 2K.3 2K.6 1–3

occasion 1–5 negotiation counsel 6–11 decision by 12–14 the king prophetic 15 appearance I divine intervention declaration 16–17 of war mustering 21 battle flight 18–20 prophetic 22–24 appearance II

1 2–6 7–8 9

23–25 32–34 31

1–4

13–14

28

13–28 13–19 15–16 32–2

5–12

4–5

2K.7

2K.18 2K.19 13–16

8–10

24–30 17 18–37 9b–13 7–12 11–12 11–13 13–14 31 1–4 14–19 5–7

20–23 17–20 3–10 10–12 15 16–21 20 22

20–34 35

23 26–27 29 30 35–43

6 29–38 24–27 34 24

8–9a 14–16 21–23 17–20

35 36–37

273 The term “morphology” refers to V. Propp, one of the first structuralistic scientists in literature. He designed a “morphology of the fairy tale”. In the Russian folktales, he discovered 31 “functions”, such as “harm”, “mediation”, “the beginning of counter action”, “departure of the hero”, “marriage with the princes”. His work Morfologija Skazki, Leningrad 1928, was only translated forty years later, as Morphology of the Folktale, London 1968. 274 We shall use these abbreviations in the following. The abbreviations respectively indicate: 1 Kgs 12, 1 Kgs 20:1–22, 1 Kgs 20:23–43, 1 Kgs 22, 2 Kgs 3, 2 Kgs 6:8–23, 2 Kgs 6:24–7:20, 2 Kgs 18:13–19:9a, 2 Kgs 19:9a–37. We shall also drop our habit of consistently indicating the numbers of the verses, in order to enhance the readability of the text. We shall assume that the reader, if he or she so desires, will be able to find the indicated paragraphs easily enough in the above.

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The plot of a story can be regarded as the story’s base conflict. This conflict may be of an entirely internal nature (for example, in a psychological novel); it may occur between two individuals or groups; it may be out in the open or not. In short, an endless variation is possible in types of conflict. A war story could be described as a story in which the base conflict has a military dimension. This does not imply that the base conflict is military. It may well be an internal, religious or social conflict; however, in a war story the conflict also has a military dimension. We can notice that a story is of a military nature when we look at the occasion that sets the story in motion. In this phase of the story, many military terms are used (‫ )צור קבץ חיל מלחמה לחם‬as well as words that express motion. This phase is often, but not always, followed by a phase of negotiations. As may be expected, the terms used most frequently in this phase all have something to do with communication: ‫( שׁלח‬to send), ‫( אמר‬to say), ‫( ענה‬to answer) and ‫( שׁמע‬to hear). Seeing as that negotiations between kings generally take place via diplomatic routes, we also frequently observe the use of the word messenger (‫ )מלאך‬and the messenger formula (‫)כה אמר‬. After (or sometimes before) the negotiations, counsel takes place on a regular basis: the king seeks counsel with various people on the matter of how to approach the problem that has arisen. It speaks for itself that many communication words are used in these parts of the text as well (‫)ענה דבר אמר נגד‬. Then, there are the terms that explicitly pertain the giving or the seeking of counsel: (‫)עצה יעץ דרשׁ‬. Those that are sought out for counsel are most frequently the servants (‫ )עבדים‬of the king; although sometimes it is explicitly mentioned that they are the prophet (‫ )נביא‬or the elders (‫)זקנים‬. When negotiations have taken place or when counsel has been given, a decision normally has to be made by the king. It cannot be said that certain characteristic words tend to be used in this phase (apart from ‫מלך‬, king, and ‫אמר‬, to say). What is characteristic, however, is that the king himself is heard of and speaks in the first person singular: 1K.12:

“I will add to your yoke [. . .] I will discipline you with scorpions.” (12:11) 1K.20A: “All that you first demanded of your servant I will do, but this thing I cannot do.” (20:9) 2K.6: “I will send and seize him.” (6:13) 2K.7: “So may God do to me and more if the head of Elisha son of Shaphat shall stand on him today” (6:31)

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2K.18 en 2K.19 form the exception to this rule. Hezekiah appears while speaking, but the form used is the second person singular of prayer. He does not decide to undertake action, but he decides to go pray in the temple. Frequently, the decision by the king is the signal for the prophet in the story to come into action. We have therefore called this element the first prophetic appearance. Here, too, it seems logical that many communication words are used, such as speak, say and listen. The use of the messenger formula, both with YHWH and with a king as the sender, should not come as a surprise either. The typical prophetical turns of phrases are truly characteristic of this event, such the handing-over formula (“YHWH will give X into your hands”) and the recognition formula (“so that you shall know that I am YHWH” and variations). Most of the prophetic acts come as an answer to a question by the king of another character. The question is different in each story, as shown below: 1K.20A: “By whom?” (20:14) 1K.22: “shall we go to Ramoth-gilead to battle or shall we refrain?” (22:15) 2K.3: “it is YHWH who has summoned us, three kings, only to be handed over to Moab.” (3:13) 2K.6: “What shall we do?” (6:15) 2K.7: “Why should I hope in YHWH any longer?” (6:33) 2K.18: “It may be that YHWH your God heard all the words of Rabshakeh” (19:4) 2K.19: “Save us, I pray you, from his hand” (19:19) Once again, we can see that there is a large variation in the phrases that prompt the appearance of the prophet; the phrase may either be a question, an observation, or a prayer. The story in 2K.3 is a little odd, because the phrase used is an observation, in the form of a reversed handing-over formula. In 1K.12 is there is no question at all, seeing as that the central theme of the story is that the king does not listen to God or to the people. There are four stories in which YHWH intervenes directly. Two aspects are striking. Firstly, apparently YHWH mainly operates during the night, so that discovery tends to take place in the morning. And secondly, with these types of events, the verbs used frequently have

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something to do with observation: to hear and to see. The acts of divine intervention are, respectively: an optical illusion (2K.3), striking with blindness and opening eyes (2K.6), and having someone hear a sound (2K.7). By using the verb ‫“( נכה‬to hit”), the narrator maintains a military atmosphere: the water that looks like blood is regarded by the Moabites as the result of a fight (2K.3); YHWH strikes the Arameans with blindness (2K.6); and YHWH’s messenger strikes the Assyrians (2K.18 and19). In three stories, a war declaration or something of the sort takes place explicitly. We cannot find a similarity in the choice of words between these three stories, but we can find a similarity in their narration style. In these texts, the use of language is frequently a little more elevated, and more colourful descriptions are used. For example, in 1K.12, the text in the BHS has been transferred into poetry: “What share do we have in David? We have no inheritance in the son of Jesse. To your tents, O Israel! Look now to your own house, O David” In K.20A, we find something ajar to a proverb: “One who puts on armour should not brag like one who takes it off ” This proverb evokes the following reaction with the Arameans: “Take your positions!” In 2K.3, the signal to commence war consists of the simple outcry “Now then, Moab, to the spoil!” The technical term for mustering, which is the next typical event, is ‫פקד‬. It is only replaced by the nearly synonymous ‫ קהל‬in 1K.12. Twice, “for the war” (‫ )למלחמה‬is explicitly added. The number of men that have been assembled is also mentioned twice. In 1K.12, “all the house of Judah and the tribe of Benjamin” are gathered. In 1K.20A “the young men who served the district governors and all the people of Israel” are mustered. In 1K.20B, Ben-hadad gathers “all his army” together and subsequently, king Ahab musters “all sons of Israel”. 2K.3 simply refers to “all Israel”. Once mustering has happened, the battle tends to take place. This scene stereotypically starts with a verb expressing motion (‫בוא במלחמה‬ ‫)עלה יצא‬. Of course, the word ‫( מלחמה‬battle) and the verb ‫( לחם‬to fight) are used repeatedly. The most characteristic word, however is ‫נכה‬ (to hit/to kill), which occurs in each story except for 2K.18. In the last story, Judah itself does not partake in the acts of war mentioned in the story; instead, the most relevant aspect of the story is the message that Rabshakeh found the king of Ashur fighting Libnah. In this story, the author is hardly interested in the outcome of the battle. The fact that the verb ‫ נכה‬matters is furthermore apparent from the fact that

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it is a central word in a text in which no fighting occurs. In 2K.6, the king of Israel asks: “Father, shall I kill them? Shall I kill them?” Elisha answers the following: “You shall not kill. Do you kill those you have captured with your sword and your bow?” We also observe that no fighting takes place in those texts in which God is involved. These two types of texts are almost complementary. The exceptions are 2K.3 and 2K.18, in which we hear, remarkably, that YHWH’s messenger himself sets out and beats the army camp of Ashur. The next type of event is flight. The technical term for flight is obviously the verb ‫נוס‬. The only exception is 1K.22, in which king Jehoram asks: “carry me out (‫ )יצא‬of the army camp”. In 2K.18 and 19 there is no flight in the strictest sense of the word, nor is the verb ‫ נוס‬used, which is not surprising seeing as that the story is about giving up battle and retreating. Words that are used in the vicinity of the word “to flee” are ‫“ רדף‬to pursue” (1K.20A), ‫“ בזז‬to plunder” (2K.7) and ‫“ מלט‬to escape” (1K.20A). Finally, in a large number of the stories, the prophet appears for a second time, underlining the prophetic nature of the stories. The prophet appears again to pronounce his verdict over that which has happened. There is a large variation in the ways in which the prophet appears. For example, the finale of 2K.7 is not, strictly speaking, a second appearance of the prophet, but a repetition of his first appearance by the writer. It shall not come as a surprise that many verbs in these parts of the texts have something to do with communication; nor that they are distinctive from a grammatical perspective—imperatives and prohibitives are used frequently in these parts of the text—nor that they are always addressed to the king. The event: improvement or turn for the worse? When we first set out on our investigation, we wondered whether the narrated events entailed an improvement or a turn for the worse visà-vis the original situation. By now, we have seen that it is not possible to provide a yes-or-no answer based on most stories. However, this finding itself is relevant to our investigation, since we have seen that it frequently matters whether we answer the question from the perspective of the people or the perspective of the king, and whether we assess the situation from a military or a religious point of view. In 1K.12, the people gained something in the course of the story, since the king of Judah was prohibited to fight with his fellow people in Israel. On the other hand, to king Rehoboam, it meant that he had to accept the rupture of his empire.

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In 1K.20A, the outcome of the battle was advantageous to both the people and to king Ahab. Aram was “defeated with great slaughter”. The second battle may have ended in a military success in the second round of narration, but the king was convicted for his mildness vis-à-vis his colleague Ben-hadad. In 1K.22, the sequel to 1K.20, we observe the same pattern. In our interpretation, Israel obtained a victory over Aram, while the king died because of a misplaced arrow. 2K.3 once again yields an ambiguous image. A battle, which was initially successful, ended when, among other things, morally disputable behaviour displayed by Israel led to a child offering by the Moabites. The somewhat fairytale-like story in 2K.6 ends up in a big feast. From a military perspective, this war-which-is-not-a-war ends with success, but the portrayal of both kings in this story is highly ironic and critical. This trend continues in 2 K.7, in a somewhat more grim tone, as Elisha openly calls the king “this murderer”. 2K.18 and 19 once again formed the exception to the rule: a pious king is rewarded for his trust in YHWH. This war ends well for both the people and the king. Our conclusion can only be that to the writers of the book of Kings, the criterion by which they judge history is not whether or not the king was successful. Instead, the writer looked at the history of his people from a prophetic point of view and attributed importance to the effects of the kingly policies on his relationship with God. The actors Since we are dealing with stories in which a prophet and a king tend to confront each other, it is not surprising that we repeatedly come across more than one narratological program. Often, the king is on a quest, while YHWH is simultaneously striving for his own goal. The narratological programs are represented in the following scheme: text

actors

quest

1K.12

YHWH Rehoboam people YHWH Ben-hadad YHWH Ahab

split of the kingdom kingship over all of Israel reduction of duties

1K.20 1K.22

conquering Samaria Ahab’s downfall conquering Ramoth-gilead

274 2K.3 2K.6–7A 2K.6–7B 2K.18–19

chapter two YHWH Jehoram YHWH king Aram YHWH Ben Hadad YHWH Sennacherib

subjection of Moab taking Elisha captive conquering Samaria conquering Jerusalem

We can pose that YHWH takes up the actantial position of a destinateur in each story: the one who holds the power to determine destiny. The issue that frequently divides the prophet and the king is the recognition of this actantial position by YHWH. Sometimes, the king does not take YHWH into account at all (1K.12, 1K.20 and to a certain extent 1K.22). At other times, the king doubts whether YHWH is capable of fulfilling this role (2K.6 and 7 and 2K.18 and 19). In another version in 2K.3, the king attributes a different goal to YHWH than is the case in reality (at least according to the prophet and narrator). It is striking that it is more often a foreign king who sets the story in motion than the king of Judah and Israel. If we leave 1K.12 out of our consideration, seeing as that it is an internal battle, we see that the Israelite king commences the battle only twice (1K.22 and 2K.3), while the hostile king does so four times. The prophet tends to be on the side of the “opponents” of the king from an actantial point of view. He is part of the “helpers” only once, in 2K.3, and in 2K.6 and 7 he is the object of the quest. Apart from these actors that we find in each story (YHWH, the king and the prophet), there are a number of other actors that play a role in each story: advisors, (false) prophets, the king’s servants, colleaguekings and individuals from the people (women, lepers, men on the wall). These figures can be found in the actantial positions of “helper” or “opponent”, or perhaps they are best regarded as extras. In the latter case, they have no direct relationship to the subject’s quest. Indications of time Indications of time are rare in our texts. We mostly have to guess the length of the representational, which creates the impression of timelessness. Large ellipses sometimes occur in the stories.

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In 1K.12, for example, the only time indication given is that the people had to return after three days in order to receive an answer from Rehoboam. The impression the reader gets is that the near-war is plotted directly thereafter, but it seems reasonable to assume that some time passed between these two events. 1K.20 is the story with the most precise indications of time. The first narrative round takes place in one day: the negotiations take place in the morning and the battle takes place in the afternoon. After an ellipse of a certain period of time (“at the return of the year”), the armies are positioned opposite of each other for seven days, after which the battle breaks loose. 1K.22, on the other hand, offers us only an exceptionally vague notion of time. The only indication of time can be found in verse 36: “then about sunset”. The impression created, is that the consultation of the 400 prophets and Micaiah took place in one and the same day. It seems improbable to suppose that the battle against Ramoth-gilead was fought on the same day, which means there must be an ellipse of unknown length at this point in the text. In 2K.3, we saw precisely how little the narrator is interested in the exact date. In verse 6, it says that king Jehoram set out against Mesha on the same day that Mesha became disloyal to the king of Israel. However, it had already been mentioned that king Mesha had become disloyal in 2 Kings 1:1 and two years passed by during Ahaziah’s short reign. Neither do we get to know the length of the mission of the delegation sent by Jehoram to king Jehoshaphat after this. What we do know, however, is that the mission was followed by a campaign of seven days, and that the battle took place by sunrise of the eighth day. In 2K.6 and 7, the most important known fact on the matter of time seems to be that both narrative rounds take place on the boundary between day and night. After an investigation by the king of Aram into the leak of information at his court, he sends a mission to Elisha. We do not know how much time this takes. We do know that the mission arrives at night and is discovered the next morning. After the final announcement that the Arameans no longer came raiding in the land of Israel, the next verse immediately mentions that the Aramean army came marching into Israel again “some time later”. In other words, we have to do with an ellipse of unknown length. Next, Samaria is besieged, but no mention is made of how long this takes. It is long enough, in any case, to establish an enormous famine. Subsequently, the discovery of

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the incredible rescue once again takes place in the night (in the twilight by the leprous men and “in the night” by the king). Finally, a remarkable disinterest in time periods is once again displayed in 2K.18 and 19. The story falls back on the dating of an annalistic note in 18:13 (the fourteenth year of king Hezekiah). But we are not told how long the first besiegement takes; nor how long Rabshakeh is gone to see Sennacherib; nor how long the second besiegement takes; and whether Sennacherib is murdered directly upon his arrival or years later. The indication “in that night” in 19:35 bears more resemblance to a narratological motif than to an attempt to giving an impression of the time and the time period. In conclusion, we can state that the narrator has little interest in the exact date and the precise time period of the stories. Indications of time should be regarded as narratological elements. For example, we come across the time period “seven days” twice; and the night, especially the “edges of the night”, seem the ideal moment for a battle or for a divine intervention in these stories. Indications of place We can say similar things on the matter of indications of place as we did for indications of time. One striking aspect is that each story takes place in a city or in the surroundings of a city. In 1K.12, this is Shechem; in 1K.20, the two cities of Samaria and Aphek are central to the story; in 1K.22, it is Ramoth-gilead; in 2K.3, Kir-hareset; in 2K.6 and 7, Dothan and Samaria; and in 2K.18 an 19, Jerusalem. In a number of stories, we find no other indications of time than inside or outside the city: 1K.12 and 1K.20. In 1K.22, we find only one place mentioned apart from the city: the threshing-floor at the entrance of the gate of Samaria, where Ahab and Jehoshaphat meet each other. In 2K.3, we find two extra indications: “the way of the wilderness of Edom” and “at the frontier”. The two stories that take place within the city borders—2K.6 and 7 and 2K.18 and 19—are also the only two stories in which we find more indications of place: on the wall, in Elisha’s house, in front of the gate, in the house of the king, in Aram’s army camp, in the temple, in Ashur’s army camp.

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2.8.2. The level of the story Interventions in the order of time The biblical stories tend to be told in a rather linear fashion, i.e. without many interventions in the order of time. Perhaps what is most remarkable in this regard is that anticipation occurs in a relatively large number of places. These are rather rare in our modern literature (“Little did he suspect the events that were to occur that day.” Or: “This seemingly likeable colleague would cause him many troubles later on.”) We come across examples of anticipation multiple times in the investigated stories. Upon second thought, this is not so strange. After all, the prophets have foreknowledge. We find anticipations in: 1K.20:22–25 1K.20:42 1K.22:25 2K.3:17–19 2K.6:16 2K.6:32 2K.7:1 2K.7:2 2K.19:47 2K.19:28–34

the warning that the king of Aram will return the next year. the verdict of Ahab. the prediction of Ahab’s death. the prediction that Moab will fall into Israel’s hands again. “for there are more with us than there are with them.” anticipation pf the arrival of the king’s messenger prediction of Samaria’s release. prediction that the messenger will no longer be around to witness it. prophecy of Isaiah. second prophecy of Isaiah.

Within the ensemble of these texts, this theological aspect is of great importance to the narratology of the stories. The notion that the end of the story has already been determined by YHWH changes the central thought of the stories: it means that the main point is not the (good or bad) ending of the story, but that which happens in between, especially the question whether YHWH can count on faith and consent or instead will encounter disbelief and doubt.275

275 See Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative, 62 en Bal, De theorie van vertellen en verhalen, 72, on how tension is created in stories in which the outcome is already known.

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Another intervention in the order of time that we come across quite frequently, is a flashback: 1K.12:2 1K.12:15 1K.22:17–23 2K.3:45 2K.6:28–29 2K.7:6–7

Jeroboam’s flight for king Solomon. the conversation between Ahaziah and Jeroboam. Micaiah’s vision of Ahab, which he had earlier on. memory of Ahab’s death and Mesha’s disloyalty. the dialogue between two women on the matter of eating children. the rumour in the night in Aram’s army camp and the flight.

Flashbacks seem to have two functions. On the one hand, they serve to refresh the reader’s memory, whenever a story refers back to an earlier story that does not precede it directly. (1K.12 and 2K.3). On the other hand, flashbacks have something to do with the focalization technique, the way the camera is yielded. Seeing as that the narrator prefers to stay in one location, he sometimes has to fill us in on some events that took place earlier on. The examples in 1K.22 and 2K.6 and 7 fall in this category. As an example, the narrator could have chosen to tell how the nightly rumour was noticed with the Aramean army as focalizator, at the point in the story where this actually took place. He would thereby have created tension by raising the question when this would be discovered. However, while he did not choose this course of narration, the dramatic tension is actually higher in his interpretation because we, the readers, do not know what we will find in the Aramean army camp along with the leprous men in the story. In other words, we are sympathizing with the leprous men: will they survive this expedition? A fork construction only occurs once; i.e. a story in which two simultaneous events are told, the one after the other (a narrative element of the type “at the same moment, several streets away”). In 1K.22:9–14, we can observe how an officer of the king fetches the prophet Micaiah and speaks to him, while his opponent Zedekiah performs his prophetic tricks for the king at the same time. In conclusion: any interventions in time that are an important tool for creating tension in contemporary literature are hardly used in the biblical war stories. We do not find any severe interventions in the order of time. In as far as interventions are made, anticipation is the

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most striking form, which is also used most often. It is not so much the ending that creates the tension, as we have seen, but the path the main characters take and the choices they make en route to this ending. Tempo If we make a schedule for the tempi in the investigated war stories, this is what we get: text 1K.12 1K.20 1K.22 2K.3 2K.6 and 7 2K.18 and 19

ellipse 3 2 2 2 1 2

summary 10 16 12 15 23 17

scene 12 27 25 12 21 45

slow-motion 2

2

The numbers relate to the number of verses in which the tempo occurs. Of course, this is not true for the ellipse, because an omission is hard to measure in terms of number of verses. In this column, we have noted the number of times we suspected an ellipse took place. It is striking that the tempo ‘pause’ does not occur at all. We did not come across elaborate descriptions (of landscapes or individuals, for example). Likewise, the narrators use little slow-downs. The tempi “summary” and “scene” are the ones that are most frequently used. We tend to find the summary at the beginning and at the end of the story. The exposition phase tends to be told in summary form, as well as the climax and the ending. The tempo ‘scene’ lies at the centre of the story, both in literal and figurative sense. We might say: the form ‘scene’ is used in the complication phase of the story. In other words: emphasis lies on the complication phase in these stories. This phase is practically always about the prophet and the others. The tempi “summary” and “scene” tend to occur equally. The two exceptions to this statement are 1K.22 and 2K.18 and 19, in which almost twice as many verses are written in the tempo “scene” as are in the tempo “summary”. The reason for this is that both stories contain an extensive prophecy, by Micaiah and Isaiah, respectively.

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Distribution of representational time Type/story (annals) 1. occasion

1K.12 1K.20A 1K.20B 1K.22 2K.3 2K.6 3 (–)

2K.6–7 2K.18 2K.19 4 (–)

5 20%

7 23%

2. negotiation 3. counsel 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

6 25% decision 3 of the king 12% prophetic 1 appearance I 4% divine intervention declaration 2 8% of war mustering 1 4% battle

10. flight

3 12% 11. prophetic 3 a ppearance II 12%

1 4% 5 22% 2 9% 1 4% 2 9%

3 14% 3 14% 1 5%

4 10%

1 5%

16 41%

3 13% 1 5% 6 26% 1 4% 1 4%

2 9% 1 4% 1 5% 9 43%

10 26% 1 3%

8 21%

2 8%

3 19%

6 2 23% 13% 2 13% 2 7 27% 13% 4 4 15% 25% 1 4% 1 4% 4 15% 1 4% 3 19%

3 10% 1 3% 4 13% 8 26%

3 19% 4 13%

1 3% 20 66%

4 15%

4 13% 3 10%

5 19% 15 56% 1 4%

2 7%

1 4% 2 7%

Note that he number of verses can differ from the real number of verses, seeing as that some verses have been counted twice. An exact count did not seem useful to our goal, which is obtaining a global overview of the representational time. It is also possible that the sum total of percentages is higher than 100, as a result of rounding of the percentages. The two annalistic paragraphs in 2K.3 and 2K.18 and 19, respectively, have been left out of consideration. We can try to clarify this quantitative material a little bit. To this end, we have calculated the average percentage per event. We have also indicated the highest and the lowest percentage that we have come across per event in the brackets behind the percentages. Seeing as that 2K.18 and 19 deviated from other stories on several accounts, we have moreover added the numbers of these two stories in brackets behind all of this information for two types of events, so as to correct for a bias in our information.

war in the book of kings 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11.

mustering declaration of war flight decision by the king divine intervention battle occasion prophetic appearance 2 negotiation counsel prophetic appearance 1

2% 3% 5% 7% 8% 9% 11% 11% 12% 12% 20%

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(0–9) (0–13) (0–13) (0–19) (0–26) (0–26) (0–23) (0–43) (0–22) (2K.18: 66%) (0–23) (4–41) (2K.19: 56%)

There is another way in which we can give some more insight into this information: by clustering the events according to the phases of the tension curve. In this analysis, the averages for the stories are as follows: Exposition phase occasion 11% complication phase negotiation 12% counsel 12% decision by the king 7% prophetic act 1 20% climax divine intervention 8% declaration of war 3% mustering 2% battle 9% dénouement flight 5% sanction phase prophetic appearance

11% 51%

22%

5% 11% 11%

We can see that the complication phase is assigned the largest amount of representational time: more than twice the time that is assigned to the climax phase. We can abstract even further from this overview, thereby uncovering some sort of base structure in the war story within the book of Kings:

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A Exposition Occasion 11% B Complication Counsel etc. 31% X Complication Profetic appearance I 20% B’Climax/Dénouement Battle etc. 27% A’ Sanction Prophetic appearance II 11% The occasion for battle is mirrored by the prophetic sanction at the end of the story. The shortcomings of human negotiation and consultation are mirrored in the battle (or avoidance thereof ). The prophetic appearance is central in this sequence of events and the hinge around which other evens revolve. Focalizations Apart from the narrator (the external focalizator, Fext), the number of internal focalizator varies between four (2K.18 and 19) and ten (2K.6 and 7). If one were to regard 2K.6 and 7 as two separate stories, the maximum number of focalizators is eight (1K.22 and 2K.6–7B). Nonetheless, this number indicates a substantive complexity, especially given the limited length of the stories. The narrator (Fext) takes up one third of the text on average (between 27 and 58%). De prophet’s number of verses is quite stable, with an average of about 25% (the lowest number occurs in 1K.12 with 6%), making him the most important internal focalizator. The kings take up around 10 to 15% of the text (king Ahab in 1K.22 is an outlier with about 25%). A third category of internal focalizators consists of the counsellors (the elders, the king’s servants, the prophets of the court). Their share varies between 2 and 8%. There is one more category, which is best called the “extras” (the boy, the women, the captains of chariot, the leprous men). They frequently have only a very small role: between 1 and 7%. Rabshakeh forms a separate category by himself in 2K.18 and 19. He is not a counsellor, one had better regard him a representative of a king and someone who stands in one line with him in the context of the story. His role, however, is the role of a main character: he takes up more representational time than king Hezekiah and even more than the prophet Isaiah (respectively, 32 versus 14 and 27%). Once again, the story in 2K.18 and 19 turns out

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to be of a completely different nature in a narratological sense than the other stories from the books of Kings. Effects of focalizations The method of focalization has several effects on the reader. These effects can be classified as follows. Prophetic perspective We already noted during our quantitative analysis that the prophet is the most important internal focalizator in the investigated stories. This finding in itself indicates the extent to which the narrator regards the prophetic perspective as important. Moreover, the prophet was the last focalizator in five stories. One could say he had the last word. Lastly, it happens to be the case that the external focalizator sanctions the prophetic vision, implicitly or explicitly. For example, by mentioning that it was a “turn of events brought about by the YHWH” (1K.12) or that everything happened “according to the word of YHWH” (1K.22). Criticism of the king The critical view of the kings of Judah and Israel is distinctive for the war stories of the book of Kings. This criticism is expressed directly by the prophets, as well as through intertextual references (Rehoboam in 1K.12 and the king in 2K.7, who symbolize Solomon’s opposite) or by drawing comparisons between the king of Israel and the king of Aram (1K.20 and 2K.6 and 7). 2K.18 and 19 once again differ from the others in tone: in this story, we find little criticism of the own king, but very negative things are said about Sennacherib and his Rabshakeh. Firstly, by Hezekiah, who says that Sennacherib mocks the living God (2K.19:16). Then, by Isaiah, in a long prophecy to Sennacherib: “ ‘Whom have you mocked and reviled? [. . .]” (2K.19:22). Finally, the external focalizator tells us that Sennacherib was killed in the temple of his own god Nisroch (2K.19:37). Irony We came across examples of irony in almost all stories. Irony appears to be the form in which the criticism of the king is formulated.276

276

E.M. Good, Irony in the Old Testament, Philadelphia 1965, 78: “We have seen

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For example, we say the young counsellors advise Rehoboam to act forcefully in 1K.12, while they simultaneously treated him as their messenger boy. We can tell that this is the case from the fact that they address him with the “messenger formula”: “Thus you should say to this people”. Ahab’s attempts in 1K.22 to disguise himself in response to the masked ball at the divine court have an ironic effect, too. It makes the entire story rather confused: false prophets pretend to be true prophets; a true prophet tries the opposite; an Israelite king pretends to be a simple soldier, so that the king of Judah can pretend to be the king of Israel. The latter had offered to pretend to do so—oh irony!—although he meant something different when he did: “I am as you are” (verse 4). The “roles” of the king and the prophet in 2K.3 form each other’s mirror image, which may be called ironic. King Jehoram seems to be with the prophets when he expresses his supposition that YHWH has given him into Moab’s hands. While kings tend to throw themselves into a war recklessly, and prophets tend to warn them, the exact opposite is the case in 2K.3: now that the king is finally not plagued by overconfidence or presumptuousness, he obtains victory. Although he is victorious, Jehoram still comes across as a loser because of his limited assessment skills. In 2K.6, we encountered a king who wanted to start killing at a rather late point in time, a king who had been instructed by the prophet to present his enemies with a banquet. In 2K.18 and 19, we came across irony when Sennacherib—who was so proud of the fact that his god had beaten all other gods—could not find safety in the temple of his own god, as he was killed in it. Tension We can tell that focalizations are an important tool for creating tension in a story from the stories under our investigation. Seeing as that our stories revolve around conflicts, tension frequently arises from differences in judgment.

that irony is criticism, implicit or explicit, which perceives in things as they are an incongruity [. . .] The incongruity may be that of ironic satire, between what is and what ought to be. It may be an incongruity between what is actually so and what the object of ironic criticism thinks to be so, as in the irony of tragedy, or in the ironies we perceive in history.”

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1K.12 clearly features two different visions of kingship. The vision that the king should serve his people (represented by the people and by Rehoboam’s elderly counsellors) and the absolutist vision that the king has the right to lay a yoke on the shoulders of the people (represented by the younger advisors and Rehoboam). It would almost be impossible for these two visions not to collide and so they do. The narrator creates even higher tension by postponing the king’s decision as long as possible. In 1K.20, the mutual focalizations of the kings of Israel and Aram create tension. When Ben-hadad asks for “your silver and gold [. . .], your wives and [good] sons”, Ahab interprets it as the payment he owes Ben-hadad as his vassal. He is willing to pay: “As you say, my lord, O king, I am yours and all that I have” (20:4). But Ben-hadad increases his demands, indicating that he does not regard Ahab as his vassal but as his enemy. Ahab comes to this conclusion when he says: “Look now! See how this man is seeking trouble.” (20:7). The fact that there is an escalation can be told from sharp remarks by each (20:10–11), which increase the tension. This dialogue has its mirror dialogue in the second round of narration. When Ben-hadad suffers from another defeat, it is his turn to focalize himself as a vassal: “Your servant Ban-hadad says” (20:32). In the surprising ending of the story, Ahab focalizes Ben-hadad as “brother” rather than as vassal or enemy and God disapproves of this course of action. 1K.22 is a story in which the tension is brought to its absolute peak. The various bipolar roles played by Ahab/Jehoshaphat, Zedekiah/ Micaiah ben Imlah and YHWH/the lying spirit drives the tension up and up for 28 verses. These bipolar roles add much drama to the story: Jehoshaphat does not trust Ahab much, and Zedekiah competes with Micaiah. The reader wonders “What’s happening?” and eventually, it is the battle that has to bring clarity, as Micaiah ben Imlah ends his speech with: “If you return in peace, YHWH has not spoken by me.’ The external focalizator gives subtle hints about the ending throughout the text. The 400 prophets are only ever called “the prophets” (never “YHWH’s prophets”). They speak of “the Lord” and not of “YHWH” (“the Lord”). Ahab imbues Micaiah ben Imlah with the task to speak “the truth”, but he doesn’t tell the 400 prophets to do so. In 2K.3, it is the surprising switch of roles between prophet and king, which was already mentioned above, which creates tension (the king, who has a small chance of success, whereas the prophet promises him victory).

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In 2K.6 and 7, the large numbers of focalizators and the subtle game between seeing and not-seeing creates tension. The theme of despair is constantly made apparent in this story: first Elisha’s servant, then the women from the city, the king’s messenger, the lepers, and lastly, the king himself. Focalizations also serve to create tension in 2K.18 and 19. Especially in the first narrative round: Rabshakeh interweaves his speech with a large number of references to prophecies from the Old Testament, which could truly confuse a reader: perhaps Sennacherib and Rabshakeh are right and YHWH will give Jerusalem into their hands after all? All of these references are followed by a rather modest reaction by Hezekiah (“This day is a day of distress [. . .]” 19:3vv) and a rather vague prophecy by Isaiah (“he shall hear a rumour” 19:7). This course of events will hardly inspire faith in a good ending of the story with the reader. The march of Tirhaka of Kush—contrary to the expectations of the prophets as well as Rabshakeh—can hardly be YHWH’s answer. It is not until the second narrative round that trust grows and the tension slowly disappears. Now, it is Sennacheribs’s letter that sounds rather convulsive. Hezekiah’s prayer sounds much more convinced (“You are God, you alone, of all the kingdoms of the earth [. . .]” 19:15) and Isaiah’s prophecy is much more explicit now. It continues to be a matter of some uncertainty what Sennacherib will hear exactly and which adversity will befall him. Multiple perspectives In the strict (modern) sense of the word, we do not encounter multiple perspectives in the biblical stories. We cannot say that the same story is told from several angles. To put it more technically: there is always one external focalizator. Multiple perspectives would probably be hard to sustain in combination with the point we discussed about, the prophetic perspective. Nonetheless, we can say that the characters do not remain flat. The various characters, including the enemies, are portrayed in some depth. Even though criticism is expressed of kings and enemies, they are never made into caricatures. We learn that Ben-hadad is scared sometimes (1K.20:30–31). Ahab’s decision to spare Ben-hadad is apparently condemnable, but the decision is made out of “loyalty” (1K.20:31). The character Ahab who appears in 1K.22 is ultimately also looking for the truth (1K.22:16). One can imagine the dilemma of the king of Aram very well through the dialogue with his servants in 2K.6. Perhaps one

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does not feel sympathy, but one understands the problem the Aramean is faced with. We can also tell that Elisha himself does not hate the Arameans and wants them to be treated well once they have been taken hostage (2K.6:22). The Israelite king, who is called “this murderer” by Elisha (2K.6:32) can count on a certain extent of sympathy from the reader, because of the preceding scene, since he is affected by his subject’s despair (2K.6:30), even if he holds Elisha responsible. And the character Rabshakeh who we see in 2K.18 and 19 even knows about the prophets of the Old Testament. 2.8.3. The level of the text Repetition of sounds and play with sounds We came across repetitions of sound and play with sound a couple of times, especially in 2 K.6 en 7 and—less so—in 1K.12 and 2 K.3. The function of this process mostly seems to be to increase the level of irony in the story. Motif words, repetition of words and play upon words The use of motif words has been acknowledged since Buber and Rosenzweig’s work as one of the most important literary methods in the art of biblical storytelling.277 These authors speak of the so-called Leitwortstil of the Bible: i.e., the structure of the stories in the Bible is formed by the repetition of certain significant words and word stems. This theory was confirmed for the war stories that we have investigated. Several central themes could be distilled from the motif words. “Horse and chariot” were used several times over. The theme hidden in these words was that Judah and Israel’s true strength lies in the prophecy and in the faith in the prophecy. Verbs such as “to hear” and, significantly “to trust” in the text of 2K.18 and 19 also have to do with this theme. This is what is expected of Judah and Israel. The words “good” and “bad” in the non-moral sense, in the sense of “the beneficial” and “the disastrous”, occurred several times: prophets were said to prophesy nothing but “disaster” (1K.22) and Elisha was even scolded by the king as “ ‘This evil is from YHWH!” (2K.7). These two terms correspond to other words such as “water”, “food”, “deliverance”,

277 M. Buber en F. Rosenzweig, Die Schrift und Ihre Verdeutschung, Berlin 1936. They applied their principles in: Die Schrift, Köln 1954–1962 (four volumes).

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which seem to have been used in the text to clarify that listening to the prophets would yield the good for both king and people. Furthermore, we came across the complementary words “servant” and “king” regularly; generally in a context in which the servants were wiser than the king (1K.22, 2K.3, 2K.7); once, in the sense that a true king should serve his people (1K.12); and once, in a situation in which a king preferred to serve his colleague than his God (1K.20). Repetition of themes We have defined a theme as an idea that forms part of the “set of values” of the story. We can be most certain of our identification of a theme when such a theme is marked by certain motif words or even certain standard formulas. Incidentally, this is the reason that we have categorized “themes” in the paragraph “text” rather than in the paragraph “theology/ideology”. On the other hand, we shall discuss certain theological thoughts, which exist in the text in several highly different formulations. The recognition formula We frequently come across the recognition formula in the biblical texts. These are formulas of the following structure: “this has happened/is happening/will happen, so that you/they know that YHWH alone is God/that there is a God in Israel/a prophet in Israel.” In 1K.20, we find the recognition formula in verse 13 and verse 28. This formula seems customary in those wars in which the causa belli lies with the enemy. The narrator does not use this formula for wars that have been caused by Israel’s disobedience. We deduce that the underlying thought is: Judah or Israel is attacked, but YHWH can show the world what kind of God he is by liberating them. Although this formula did not occur in 2K.6, most exegetes look upon the banquet that is organized for the Arameans with the same thought: these soldiers will have a unique story to tell about Israel’s God upon their arrival back home, as did Naaman in the story just before. The things that are said about Ahab in 1K.20 are therefore all the more remarkable. This could have something to do with the polemic against the cult of Baal that existed under Ahab’s reign. The formula had been used just before on the Carmel, where the following words are spoken to all of Israel: “so that this people may know that you, YHWH, are God,” (1 Kgs 18:37). The use of the formula in 1K.20 should thus be interpreted as highly critical of the king: he is regarded as a godless king, almost at a par with the enemy.

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When we were studying the story in 2K.18 and 19, we found the recognition formula in 19:19: “So now, O YHWH our God, save us, I pray you, from his hand, so that all the kingdoms of the earth may know that you, O YHWH, are God alone”. The handing-over formula The handing-over formula has as its structure: “I, [name of deity], give X into the hands of Y” or “The deity gives X into Y’s hands.” The theme of the deity that either grants victory or does not grant victory is of great importance to our research. After all, this is a theme that also occurs in the extrabiblical literature. The theme is related to something we noted before: God always holds the actantial position of destinateur in the biblical war stories. Without always having to explicitly appear on stage, he is the one who turns out to hold all the strings. We come across this theme for the first time in 1K.20, in verse 13: “Thus says YHWH, ‘Have you seen all this great multitude? Look, I will give it into your hand today; and you shall know that I am YHWH.’ ” We also find this formula in verse 28. In 1K.22, we find this theme in three places: in verse 6 and 12, from the mouth of 400 prophets, and in verse 15 from the mouth of Micaiah ben Imlah. The formula also occurs three times in 2K.3: in verse 10, 13 and 18. We can observe a variation to the theme in this story, which is that we hear it from king Jehoram twice, who prophesies adversity: “Alas! YHWH has summoned us, three kings, only to be handed over to Moab.” We find another variation to this theme in 2K.18 and 19: firstly, Rabshakeh says “is it without YHWH that I have come up against this place” (18:25). He then tries to convince the people of Jerusalem that YHWH stands no chance against his god: “Who among all the gods of the countries have delivered their countries out of my hand, that YHWH should deliver Jerusalem out of my hand?” (18:35) Hezekiah takes up this theme in his second prayer. The gods that are “the work of human hands” are the opposite of YHWH, who will liberate Jerusalem “from his hand” (Sennacherib’s hand) (19:18–19). In short, we came across a wide variation of functions of this element. It is sometimes used by false prophets, and may therefore sound suspicious when used as “good news prophecy”. Kings also use the formula, and when they do, they use it ironically and negatively. The theme has the potential of becoming the central question on faith in the story.

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Trust in God versus trust in horse and chariot The theme that faith in God is not in any way compatible with faith in horse and chariot is a prophetic theme par excellence (see for instance Deut. 20:1, Is. 31:1). It seems to have been the starting point for the writers of three of the stories that we investigated. Here, too, we can see that the writers had great liberty in the way in which they interwove a theme into a story. In 1K.20, Ben-hadad marches against the enemy with horse and chariot, but he is also forced to flee on a horse (verse 20). The Arameans, on the other hand, continue to believe in the power of their own horses and chariots. In their analysis, their defeat is caused by the choice of the terrain on which the battle took place. They should have fought in the plain with horse and chariot, seeing as YHWH the “mountain god” would have been incapable of fighting these powerful instruments of war. We come across this theme again in 2K.6 and 7. The theme is elaborated upon in the sense that it is supposed to become clear from the story that prophets such as Elijah and Elisha are the “horses and chariots of Israel”, so to speak. Note that the theme is actually taken up by Rabshakeh in 2K.18 and 19: “And yet, you trust in Egypt for chariots and for horsemen” (18:24). The Rabshakeh in this story turns out to have good knowledge of this theme from the Old Testament, when he tells us that his king did not pull up against Israel without YHWH’s knowledge. Divine intervention The theme of divine intervention is another theme that is of interest to our comparison with extrabiblical literature, seeing as that the gods tend to get personally involved in battle in those texts, too. Again, it becomes clear that the Bible regards YHWH’s involvement in war as complex. YHWH does not only intervene in the war with the aim of ensuring a beneficial end to the war. He also prevents certain wars and misleads kings to make sure they do not get away without their punishment. In 1K.12, for example, we explicitly read that the entire story and Rehoboam’s tough position are “a turn of affairs brought about by the YHWH” (verse 15). Both the external focalizator and the prophet Shemaiah give a voice to this theme in the story: “Thus says YHWH [. . .] for this thing is from me” (verse 24). In 1K.22, Micaiah ben Imlah makes clear that king Ahab’s battle is a result of a heavenly plan, which was conceived at the heavenly

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court (verses 19–23). A highly curious form of divine intervention: YHWH reaches his goal by placing a lying spirit in the mouth of false prophets. In 2K.3, we come across a form of divine intervention that is known to us from texts in the Bible (for example, Jgs 4–5) as well as from other texts: YHWH, who fights along with the people through the elements of nature: water, sun, and stars. In this story, it is water that saves the day, as it surprisingly suddenly fills the desert in verse 20. In 2K.6 and 7, God intervenes in the story in a remarkable manner: by manipulating the senses. First, He struck the people with blindness (6:18), after which he caused them hear to the noise of an enormous army (7:6). In 2K.18–19, YHWH intervenes directly through his angel: “That very night the messenger of YHWH set out and struck down one hundred and eighty-five thousand in the camp of the Assyrians.” (19:35) Confusion The theme of confusion is another theme that we encounter regularly in the Bible as well as in the other texts our sample. The theme comes down to the following: the enemy is unsettled by divine intervention or by a trick to such an extent that he is disoriented, panics and flees. We come across a variation of this theme in 2K.3, in which the Moabites think that the armies of Judah, Israel and Edom became confused and started to fight each other. In 2K.6 and 7, we find an almost classical example of confusion. In 2K.7:6–7, we can read that God has the Aramean army hear the sound of horses, chariots and armies. As a result, the Aramean army panics and runs away as fast as their legs can carry them. Intertextuality One way in which meaning can arise in a text is through references to other texts, so-called intertextuality. We have seen that intertextual references have been made to other stories within and outside of the books of Kings; to such prophets as Micaiah, Isaiah and Jeremiah; to the book of Deuteronomy; and even to extrabiblical texts. The connections with Deuteronomy included: the theme of the true and the false prophecy (1K.22 and Deut. 13:1–5 and 18:21–22), hinting at Sukkoth (2K.3 and 2K.6 and Deut. 31:9–29), the laws of war with respect to the trees (2K.3 and Deut. 20:19–20), the laws on war with

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Moab (2K.3 and Deut. 2), cannibalism (2K.7 and Deut. 28:52–57), trusting on horses and chariots (1K.20, 2K.6 and 7, 2K.18 and 19 and Deut. 20:1) and the promise of a land of milk and honey (2K.18 and 19 and Deut. 8:8–10). There were also plenty of references to stories from the Deuteronomist history. We present a selection here: Solomon’s harsh rule in 1K.12 put him on one page with the Pharaoh (Ex.1:14); the seven-day wars in 1K.20 and 2K.3—both stories also included a wall—referred to the fall of Jericho in Joshua 6; Ahab’s disguise in 1K.22 put him in the company of Saul in 1 Samuel 28, among others; constant connections were made between Elisha and Elijah; Jehoram became a reversed Joshua in 2K.3, when he leads his people back into the desert (Num. 20), the king’s messenger in 2K.7 turned out to be the lesser version of the Aramean Naaman when it came to trusting YHWH (2 Kgs. 5); the king in the same story turned out to be less skilled in his in legal skills than Solomon (1 Kgs. 3); and lastly, Hezekiah was depicted as a second David facing Goliath in 2K.18–19 (1 Sam. 17) and as a second Solomon (1 Kgs. 8) during his prayer in the temple. The prophets Micaiah, Isaiah and Jeremiah turned out to be known to the writers of these stories. An attempt is made to connect Micaiah ben Imlah’s prophecy to the prophecy of Micah the Morasthite. The false prophecy in 1K.22 reminds us of the prophecy in Jeremiah 28. The fact that the prophet Isaiah continues to fall back upon the prophecies from Proto-Isaiah (mainly) in 2K.18–19 is logical: these chapters were supposedly written as a part of Isaiah (Is.36–37).278 Especially in the latter story, 2K.18 en 19, we also came across references to Assyrian metaphors.279 We can therefore conclude that these stories were written as some sort of illustration to the book of Deuteronomy. The intertextual references show how beneficial it is when the king and his people keep the laws from the Torah and how destructive it is when they don’t. A king, who is obedient to the Torah leads his people to a land of milk and honey or liberates his people, as if he is David beating a Goliath. Disloyal kings lead their people back into the desert and kill the “Exodus” project:

278

See: Smelik, “King Hezekiah advocates true prophecy”. Another indication that Machinist’s article “Assyria and its Image in the First Isaiah” had it right. 279

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the water colours red like blood again, firstborns die again, the “hard service” returns. Metaphors A typical literary procedure at the level of the text is the use of metaphors. The prose texts of the Bible are rather minimalist on the use of metaphors. It is even more remarkable that the metaphors that are used are almost all used by the king in his speeches: “the little one and the loins” in 1 K.12, “dust of Samaria will provide a handful” in 1K.20 (which is closer to a hyperbole than to a metaphor), the “windows in heaven” in 2K.7 and the “broken reed of a staff ” in 2K.18. A metaphor is heard from the mouths of the prophets occasionally. The most powerful metaphor—the horns of iron in 1K.22—is used by a false prophet. But Micaiah ben Imlah also speaks of “sheep that have no shepherd” and Isaiah uses many metaphors. Something remarkable happens to Isaiah’s metaphors: it turns out that they refer to images from the Assyrian propaganda for a large part. In other words, it appears as if the Bible avoids the use of metaphors. Is this because the kings like to use metaphors in their inscriptions? Is it because metaphors tend to give a heavy ideological tone to a text, while the biblical writers prefer a lighter, more ironic brush to paint their stories? 2.8.4. The theology/ideology of the war stories in the books of Kings The king The king’s position has been discussed on numerous occasions in the above. For example, we have come to the conclusion that the king is never the most important internal focalizator in the stories. We have also observed that the focalizations tend to have a critical effect when it comes to the king. We shall now try to go into some details as to the content of the statement we just made. The king as incompetent leader In 1K.12, Rehoboam is portrayed as an incompetent king. We can first of all tell from the irony that he allows himself to be used as a messenger boy by his young counsellors. Rehoboam’s failure is also apparent from the rest of the story: by not listening to the people, he allows the conflict with Israel to escalate unnecessarily. Displaying a complete lack of tact, he sends the taskmaster over the forced labour,

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of all people, to Israel as a negotiator, while Israel was rebelling against the obligation of working for the king. Finally, he resorts to violence, which YHWH disapproves of. In terms of competence, king Ahab does a rather good job in 1K.20. It seems that there was nothing to be held against him in the military and diplomatic field: he tries to settle the conflict with Ben-hadad and listens to the counsel of his elders. In 1K22, the image of Ahab is much more negative: it is not Ahab but his Judean colleague king Jehoshaphat, who has the idea to consult the prophet. Ahab’s son Jehoram commits the same mistake as his father in 2K.3: not wanting to consult a prophet. Once again, Jehoshaphat has the initiative. His statement that “it is YHWH who has summoned us, three kings, only to be handed over to Moab” does not appear to be indicative of much faith. It is remarkable that the king hardly appears separately in the story at all after verse 13 (only in the collective “the kings” and even then, in the focalization of the Moabites). His role has literally and figuratively been played out. Throughout 2K.6 and 7, the king of Israel is incapable of making any decisions and assesses the situations incorrectly. He does not make one positive contribution to the process of breaking through the besiegement. In both narrative rounds, he wants to strike the wrong person at the wrong moment (the Aramean army after the battle and Elisha before the end of the besiegement). The play on sounds by the king of Israel puts him on the same page as the king of Aram. Hezekiah is the exception to the rule in 2K.18 and 19. Hezekiah is depicted from an unusual positive perspective in the story. He is shown to be a successful king: “YHWH was with him; wherever he went, he prospered. He rebelled against the king of Assyria and would not serve him” (18:7). When he gets into trouble because of his rebellion, he is smart enough to settle the conflict. When he does not manage to settle, he does what other kings did not do before him: he goes to the temple and seeks counsel with YHWH’s prophet. As we have seen, he follows the procedure proposed by Solomon in 1 Kings 8. The king as the person against whom the prophets oppose Immediately in 1K.12, Rehoboam is faced with a prophet who messes with his plans. From the start, Shemaiah makes clear in his focalizations how he sees Rehoboam: as the king of Judah (up until then, Rehoboam had been referred to as “the king”). Without accepting any

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opposition, he tells Rehoboam that he is not allowed to march against his brothers in Israel. In 1K.20, the prophet initially seems to be moderately positive vis-à-vis king Ahab. The prophet promises victory, even twice, on the condition that the king abides by the following: “and you shall know that I am YHWH” (20:13 and 28). In the prophet’s view, the king does not make a mistake until the moment that he makes a covenant with Ben-hadad, thereby breaching the ban. He pronounces his own death sentence. In 1K.22, Ahab is constantly faced with Micaiah ben Imlah. He admits that Micaiah “never prophesies anything favourable about me, but only disaster” (22:8, 18). The prophet reveals that YHWH holds a personal grudge against Ahab (20:19–23). Elisha goes as far as to not want to have anything to do with Jehoram in 2K.3. “Go to your father’s prophets or to your mother’s”, he says verse 13. In verse 14, Elisha continues to make clear that he would not speak one word to Jehoram, if it had not been for Jehoshaphat’s presence. Implicitly, the mentioning of a scorched earth policy in verse 25 seems to entail a negative judgment, seeing as that as this guiding principle goes against the laws of war mentioned in Deut. 20:19–20. In 2K.6 and 7, the prophet does not seek out a confrontation with the king;—it’s the other way around. When the king is not allowed to kill Aram’s army, but is supposed to feed it, he aims his anger about this fact at Elisha when the aforementioned army besieges Samaria later on in the story. Once the king has expressed his grief with Elisha, Elisha calls him “this murderer”. Note that the external focalizator has the decency to continue to speak of “the king”. As mentioned before, 2K.18 and 19 form a category of their own. It features an exemplary cooperation between the king and the prophet: a king who trusts in YHWH, a prophet who encourages him on behalf of YHWH. The king as compared to David and Jeroboam Rehoboam is the one who is to be held responsible that “Israel has been in rebellion against the house of David to this day”. This is to be blamed on the fact that Rehoboam misses a quality possessed by Solomon: an understanding heart. The intertextual reference to 1 Kings 3:9 made this abundantly clear. The evaluation of Ahab cannot be found in 1K.20 and 1K.22, but it can be found in the stories surrounding Ahab and Jezebel. In 1 Kings

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16:30–33, it says that “Ahab son of Omri did evil in the sight of the Lord more than all who were before him. And as if it had been a light thing for him to walk in the sins of Jeroboam son of Nebat, he took as his wife Jezebel daughter of King Ethbaal of the Sidonians, and went and served Baal, and worshipped him.” We can find back an evaluation of Jehoram in the well-known style of Deuteronomy in 2K.3: “He did what was evil in the sight of YHWH, though not like his father and mother, for he removed the pillar of Baal that his father had made. Nevertheless he clung to the sin of Jeroboam son of Nebat, which he caused Israel to commit.” Hezekiah—once again—is the exception to the rule. According to the writers of the Bible he is the only one of whom it can be said “He did what was right in the sight of YHWH just as his ancestor David had done. [. . .]He trusted in YHWH the God of Israel; so that there was no one like him among all the kings of Judah after him, or among those who were before him” (18:3–7). Valuation of the war Not once have we come across a remark that war could be regarded as a beautiful or holy cause. At the most, war serves a purpose, but the texts never speak of war in a triumphant or idolizing way. One could say: in the book of Kings, there is always something of a crisis about war, in the current as well as in the original sense of the word ‘crisis’. There is a crisis, because a war is always a disaster. There is also crisis in the sense that there is “judgment”, because in times of need, one does not only get to know who one’s true friends are; one also discovers who one’s true God is. When we use the term “judgment”, we thus mean such a test. If the judgment of a king turns out to be negative, the war may take on the characteristic of punishment. After, all we did come across the statement that war goes against YHWH’s laws. In 1K.12, the valuation of battle is explicitly negative. The fight that Rehoboam wishes to start with Israel goes against YHWH’s design and moreover, one is not supposed to “go up or fight against your kindred the people of Israel”. In 1K.20, we can see to which extent the battle makes clear what Ahab’s identity is and what YHWH’s role is. Ben-hadad ridicules YHWH by making his power look as if it is limited to local power. The positive thing about war is that people “shall know that I am the Lord”. It also clarifies Ahab’s identity. While he initially seems a competent king, it becomes clear that he does not take YHWH’s power seriously

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when he later on poses as “Ben-hadad’s brother”. The theme in the books of Samuel that the introduction of kingship will make Israel “like all other nations” seems to come true here (1 Sam. 8:19–20). Although it does not explicitly say so in the text, it is interesting to consider to which extent the Ancient Near Eastern ideology plays a role in the covenant between Ahab and Ben-hadad. In the Ancient Near Eastern ideology of kings, the deities were expected to act as the guardian of covenants. Nor the covenant with Ben-hadad, nor the vassal agreement between Mesha and Ahab/Jehoram in 2K.3 has any impact within the story. YHWH is only interested in his own covenant. He is not the guardian of the covenants between kings. In 1K.22, YHWH takes the initiative for battle, at least according to Micaiah ben Imlah. The war takes on the interpretation of punishment for Ahab in this text. This punishment is explicitly intended for Ahab and not for the entire people (compare to the verses 20 and 17). Jehoram focalizes the war in 2K3 as a just war. In verse 7, he defines the situation as rebellion of a vassal. The intertextual references to Deut. 2 and 18, however, make clear that there was no real justification (ius ad bellum) for this war against Moab and that it was also condemnable when measured by the law of war (ius in bello). The stories in 2K.6 and 7 form part of a cycle of stories on Elijah and Elisha. We have seen that these stories are crammed with the thought that the prophets are the “horses and chariots”. He, who listens to the prophets and trusts in YHWH, has no need to fear war. This becomes abundantly clear in 2K6–7. By trusting in him who hides in the phrase “there are more with us than there are with them”, Samaria is liberated of the Arameans twice. The warfare of the kings (both by the kings of Israel and of Aram) is put in a negative light in this manner. Elisha even instructs the king of Israel to feed his enemies and send them away rather than kill them! In 2K.18 and 19, we see three different meanings of war (emergency, judgment, punishment) in the various visions of the characters. In the vision of Sennacherib/Rabshakeh, war is something positive: 1. because it is YHWH’s will (25) 2. because it will be a blessing to Judah, seeing that the people will be lead to a land of grain and wine (31–32) and 3. because it shows the superiority of the king of Assyria and his god over the kings and gods of other nations (34–35 and 10–13). To Hezekiah, war is 1. “a day of distress, of rebuke, and of disgrace” (3), but ultimately, it is 2. an occasion to have “so that all the kingdoms of the earth may know that you, O YHWH, are God alone.’ (19). To

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YHWH, war is indeed the execution of his will to “make fortified cities crash into heaps of ruins” (19:25), according to Isaiah. Sennacherib is right in this sense. But Sennacherib is presumptuous (28) and therefore, YHWH will deliver his people. We therefore get the impression that the narrator stays close to the thoughts in Isaiah 10, this being that YHWH uses Assyria as a “rod”, and so, uses the war as a way to teach Judah a lesson. Effect of the valuation of the war on the valuation of the king By now, it will be clear that the valuation of the war has an effect on the valuation of the king. It will also be clear this effect is told differently in each story. We can see this more clearly in the following schedule: Text 1K.12 1K.20

war as king valuation emergency strives for war Ahab’s verdict behaves like Ben-hadad 1K.22 punishment Ahab tries to dodge his punishment 2K.3 illegal Jehoram opposes the Torah 2K.6–7 emergency does not trust YHWH 2K.18–19 emergency/ trusts in YHWH verdict

of the king: – – – – – +

In 1K.12, Rehoboam receives a negative judgment, because he strives for a war that goes against God’s will, a brotherly fight with the sister nation of Israel. In 1K.20, the verdict aspect is the most obvious. The effect of the valuation of the king is that he lets himself be known as someone who would rather follow the Ancient Near Eastern logic of statesmanship than God’s command. 1K.22 relates the execution of the punishment that had been proclaimed over Ahab in 1K.20. In 2K.3, we get the impression that Deuteronomy’s laws form the background to this story, in which case Jehoram is made to look like one who despises the law. In 2K. 6 and 7, both the king of Aram and the king of Israel appear to have a personal feud with Elisha. Since they do not trust the words of the prophet, the country is constantly on the brink of unnecessary violence (with Samaria, with the Arameans, with Elisha). It is only in 2K.18 and19 that we beget a positive image of the king, because he focalizes the war as something that happens out of an emergency.

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He shows himself to be a good king, according to the biblical writers, because he trusts YHWH and listens to the prophet. Focalization of YHWH and of other gods We have come to realize that when we are looking at the way in which YHWH or other gods are brought on scene in the stories we investigated, it is useful to examine the “who” and the “what” of the focalization. Who is looking and what does he see? The prophets in the stories continuously depict YHWH as the destinateur. YHWH is the one who determines the course of history in the background of the stories. The Fext continuously has as his goal to follow this focalization, generally in a very subtle and reticent manner. The reader has to come to his own conclusion, in a manner of speaking, and the narrator does not step into the foreground with moralistic message. The red thread throughout the stories is that people frequently don’t understand the breadth of God’s power, or purposefully try to limit this power. For example, the characters regard YHWH as a national god (1K.22), who will fight for his people at any cost. In another case, when YHWH does not fight for his people at any cost, YHWH is regarded as an enemy, as a god who punishes (2K.3, 2K.6 and 7). Regarded as a national god, it is easy for YHWH to be placed in one line with other national gods (2K.18 and 19). It also happens that kings disregard YHWH completely and apparently do not see him as a national god, nor as an enemy (1K.12, 1K.20), but as a quantité négligable. The prophet’s message, however, is: YHWH is sovereign, as destinateur, as Creator of heaven and earth, who has his own plan and goes through with it. Like a chess Grandmaster.280 The relationship between divine and human activity According to Alter, the literary techniques in the Bible are a reflection of the views the Bible writers had of human nature within the paradigm of monotheism. Bible stories thrive on the tensions and paradoxes that arise as a result of the tension between God’s omniscience on the one hand and the absolute freedom of the individual on the other hand.281

280

After an image by Smelik in his discussion of 1 Kgs. 22, 1 Koningen, 149–155. Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative, 115: “Since art does not develop in a vacuum, these literary techniques must be associated with the conception of human nature implicit in biblical monotheism: every person is created by an all-seeing God but abandoned to his own unfathomable freedom, made in Gods likeness as a matter 281

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We can observe this tension, which was also mentioned by Alter, very well in the war stories. On the one hand, the Bible writers want to imbue the readers with trust in a God who is powerful and wants the best for people both at the same time; especially with the people he has a covenant with. On the other hand, they also want to remind the readers of their own responsibility and freedom of choice. In order to emphasize freedom of choice, there are relatively little divine interventions. In the cases where intervention takes place, we observe the following: 1. The form of the divine intervention that best fits an optimum of human freedom is speech. God speaks through his prophets, but it is up to the individual to either listen or not. This ‘speaking through prophets’ can be found in all our stories, which is no coincidence seeing as that we selected them for this reason. 2. Another form of divine intervention is manipulation of the senses. God opens eyes, ears, lets people hear sounds and sends lying spirits. This is a form that does not necessarily have to be interpreted as miraculous and thereby as a limitation of human freedom: we have seen that one can be blinded by one’s own “wishful thinking” (1K.22). 3. Other divine intervention is generally expressed in the form of a suggestion, i.e. “it can hardly be a coincidence”; the arrow that “accidentally” hits Ahab (1K.22), the water that “accidentally” fills the desert and that is coloured red by the rising sun (2K.3). In these cases, it is not mentioned directly that YHWH did this. 4. Twice, we hear of something like a divine plan: in 1K.12 (“a turn of affairs brought about by the YHWH”) and in 1K.22 (sending a lying spirit). We already saw that this latter story presents the narrator with paradoxes stat are a little too hard.

of cosmogonic principle but almost never as a matter of accomplished ethical fact; and each individual instance of this bundle of paradoxes, encompassing the zenith and the nadir of the created world, requires a special cunning attentiveness in literary representation. The purposeful selectivity of means, the repeatedly contrastive or comparative technical strategies used in the rendering of biblical characters, are in a sense dictated by the biblical view of man.”

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5. We only observe a direct intervention in the battle in 2K.18 and 19 (which once again seem to deviate): YHWH’s messenger kills one hundred-and-eighty-five thousand men. The image of a chess Grandmaster is highly applicable in this context: on the one hand, the individual, as YHWH’s opponent, has complete freedom to do whatever he pleases. On the other hand, YHWH plans ahead further and thereby guarantees an advantageous ending. The theology/ideology of the text Summarizing, we can say the following about the theology of the war stories in the books of Kings. First of all, it is absolutely clear in all stories that YHWH is the destinateur of the story. It is YHWH who changes the course of history, often acting in the background of the story. We have seen that it is frequently the theme of the stories that the king acts without consulting the destinateur (1K.12, 1K.22, 2K.3, 2K.6 and 7). Acting without involving YHWH can take on the form of a high-handed action (arrogance) or the form of a lack of trust (fear). The theme may also be that there is some obscurity as to who is the destinataire (2K.3, 2K.18 en 19). Secondly, an integral part of the views of the writers of the books of Kings is that although they regard the king as the most obvious person to lead the people following YHWH’s will, they observe that he neglects to do so in the majority of the cases. The ideology of the text is thus highly critical with respect to the kings. Thirdly: although YHWH occasionally interferes actively to save his people, his preferred manner of interfering is through speaking. It is the individual, specifically the king, who has to carry out God’s will. To this end, YHWH sends prophets to the kings in difficult and confusing times. The finding that YHWH seems to send the prophets mostly to the kings of the Northern Empire deserves further attention and investigation. The theme “war” is mainly connected to the temple in as far as it relates to Judah. The writers of the book of Kings seem even more interested in the temple, regarding the prophets mainly as an emergency line of communication. If the scroll that is found in 2K.22 indeed refers to the bible book Deuteronomy, it is also striking that this law scroll has to be given into the hands of a Levite priest (Deut. 17:18). Fourthly: true protection for the people of Judah and Israel lies in the word of YHWH, as personified by the prophets, for example. In

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this manner, prophecy forms the “horses and chariot” of Israel and Judah (2K.6 en 7). Fifthly: to further complicate matters, it turns out that false prophets exist alongside the true ones. (1K.22). The writers of the books of Kings come up with the same method as the writers of the book Deuteronomy to distinguish between true and false prophets (Deut. 18:21–22): if the word of a prophet comes true, he was a true prophet. This criterion is rather hard to operationalize in practice, as we can see in 1K.22. Sixthly: war is never something beautiful or glorious. At the most, it can sometimes acquire the characteristics of a “verdict”—a situation in which it becomes clear what people are worth—or of a “retribution”—a situation in which something is made right again. Seventhly: war between Judah and Israel is not at all appropriate. This is made clear explicitly in 1K.12, and we can also observe how, in the stories 1K.22 and 2K.3, the phrase “my people are your people” by the Judean king Jehoshaphat contributes to the positive image created of him. Eighthly: seeing as that war can sometimes be a verdict or retribution, a defeat may have a positive aspect and enemies might have goals that are in reality in YHWH’s hands. YHWH’s main concern will always be his own people, though. Ninthly: chapters 2K.18 and 19 once again seem to differ from the other texts in the books of Kings when it comes to ideology. These texts build upon the ideas in the other texts, but they also take the ideas a step further. The thought that YHWH is not only Israel’s God, but also Creator of heaven and earth, can only be found here. Moreover, the idea that the other gods are merely the work of humans can only be found here. In other places in the books of Kings, other gods are described as a “gruesome” rather than as a harmless creation of human origin. Now that we have charted how exactly the book of Kings speaks about war in relation to God and kingship, we shall apply ourselves to a similar analysis of a number of extrabiblical texts in the next chapter.

CHAPTER THREE

WAR IN A NUMBER OF EXTRABIBLICAL TEXTS In this part of our study, we shall analyze ten extrabiblical texts in a manner similar to our analysis of the six biblical war stories. We took the following criteria as our guidelines for the selection of these nine texts: – Texts in which the theme of ‘war’ occurs. – Texts that are (approximately) contemporary to the biblical texts that we have analyzed. – Texts, we had thought on beforehand that they would contain both a royal and a religious (prophetic or priestly) focus. This criteria resulted in the following selection of texts, which we will discuss in chronological order: the Stela of Mesha (± 835 B.C.), the Inscriptions of Kulamuwa (± 830 B.C.), Zakkur (± 785 B.C.), the Annals of Sennacherib (689 B.C.), some Prophecies to Esarhaddon (± 680 B.C.), the Annals of Ashurbanipal (± 645 B.C.), the Verse Account on Nabonidus (± 539 B.C.), the Cyrus Cylinder (± 535 B.C.) and at last the Esarhaddon Chronicle (± 520 B.C.). A note on the translations given below: seeing as that the state of the texts varies, we will mark the lines and words that we are not sure of in our translation. Brackets will indicate lacunas in the text. In some cases, words or parts of words will be between brackets. These words are additions to the text, based on the part of the word that is readable, or on other hints from the text itself. If a word in the translation has been printed in italics, it means that the text of the original is readable, but we are not sure of the translation. It may be that we have to do with unknown idiom. In this case, the translation is a guess, oftentimes made by looking at the context or the etymology. Of course, we will also use footnotes to justify the manner in which we have come to a certain translation or in order to elaborate on some uncertainties. Differently than with our treatment of the biblical texts, we have added an extra paragraph to each chapter on the state of the material.

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chapter three 3.1. The Stela of Mesha 3.1.1. The Stela of Mesha

Translation Text edition: – KAI, bd I, 33 (text nr. 181) – SSI, vol. I, 74–75 – K.P. Jackson en J.A. Dearman, “The Text of the Mesha Inscription”, in: A. Dearman (ed.), Studies in the Mesha Inscription and Moab, Atlanta 1989, 93–95 – K.A.D. Smelik, “King Mesha’s inscription: Between history and fiction” in: Converting the Past: Studies in Ancient Israelite and Moabite Historiography, Leiden 1992, 61–63 Translations: – KAI, bd II, 204–205 – SSI, vol. I, 75–77 – K.A.D. Smelik in: COS, vol. II, 137–138 – A. Dearman, “The Language of the Mesha Inscription”, in A. Dearman (ed.), Studies in the Mesha Inscription and Moab, Atlanta 1989 – K. Galling, Textbuch zur Geschichte Israels, Tübingen 19682, 51–53 – K.A.D. Smelik, “King Mesha’s inscription: Between history and fiction” in: Converting the Past: Studies in Ancient Israelite and Moabite Historiography, Leiden 1992, 63–66 (1) I am Mesha,1 son of Kemosh[-yatti],2 the king of Moab, the Dibonite. (2) My father was king over Moab for thirty years, and I, I was king 3 after my father. 1 Here, we are abiding by the generally accepted custom of calling this king ‘Mesha’, as in the Masoretic text of 2 Kgs 3, among others. The other assumption scholars sometimes make is that his name is in reality pronounced as ‘Moša ’ (LXX for example also has Μω α) or ‘Mošia ’. This name derives from the meaningful stem ‫ישׁע‬/‫‘ ו‬to deliver’. E. Lipińsky, “Etymological and Exegetical Notes on the Meša Inscription”, Or 40 (1971), 325–340, regards this as a nomen-omen, “expressing the wish of Meša ’s parents that the newborn heir to the throne will be the means in the hand of the national god to bring salvation from the Omride’s yoke.” (326). 2 The second part of the name of Mesha’s father is illegible but can be completed on the basis of another discovery in the text. See W.L. Reed en F.V. Winnett, “A Fragment of an Early Moabite Inscription from Kerak”, BASOR 172 (1963), 1–9.

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And I made this high place for Kemosh in Karchoh as h[eigth of deliverance],3 (3) because he delivered me from all kings 4 and because he has made me look down on all my enemies. Omri, (5) the king Israel,5 oppressed Moab for many days, for Kemosh was angry with his land. (6) And his son succeeded him. and he said—he too— I will oppress Moab. In my days he did [so].6 (7) But I looked down on him and on his house, and Israel has gone to ruin, yes has gone to ruin for ever! Omri had taken possession of the wh[ole la]nd (8) Medeba. And he lived there in his days and half the days of his son, forty year. (9) But Kemosh [resto]red it in my days.

3 I am interpreting this as ‫י[שׁע‬.‫ב]מת‬, thereby following Gibson, Textbook, 74, among others. Another suggestion is: ‫י[שׁע‬.‫“ בנס]בת‬Wendung zum Heil”. Zo: H.P. Müller, “König Mêša von Moab und der Gott der Geschichte”, UF 26 (1995), 373–395, especially 375. Or: ‫י[שׁע‬.‫בנ]תה‬, “As victor I built”. See: Lipińsky, “Etymological Notes”, 327– 328. In this part, one would expect an imperfectum consecutivum. Or ‫מ[שׁע‬.‫כב]מת‬, “as Mesha’s heighth”. Such as: P. Auffret, “Essai sur la structure littéraire de la stèle de Mésha”, UF 12 (1980), 109–124, especially 110. It does not seem likely to me that Mesha erects a heighth for Kemosh and proceeds to call it “Mesha’s heighth”. 4 Or: “rebels”. In this case, it is not ‫מלכן‬, but ‫ שׁלכן‬The verb ‫ שׁלך‬would then mean “to liberate”. H.P. Müller in TUAT, 647, mentions parallels in which rebels describe themselves as “liberators”. He repeats this point of view in “König Mêša ”, 375. These liberators are said to be rebels or usurpers in reality. Seeing as that the threat Mesha is dealing with seems to come from the outside rather than from the inside, it appears more appropriate to interpret the word as “kings” here. A. Niccacci, “The Stele of Mesha and the Bible: Verbal System and Narrativity”, Or ns 63 (1994), 226–248, also sees the word ‫ שׁלכן‬here, on p. 228, but comes up with another translation, namely “predator”. 5 See: F.I. Andersen, “Moabite Syntax”, Or 35 (1966), 81–120, especially 87. Following Andersen, we shall not interpret ‫ מלכ‬in the sentence ‫ מלכ ישׂראל‬as a finite verb but as a noun, followed by the waw consecutivum, which forms the main sentence. If we woud interpret it as a verb, one would also expect that the preposition ‫ על‬were used: ‘Omri was king over Israel’. Compare to line 2, for example. Andersen moreover shows us that the so-called ‘sentence boundaries’ almost always place two sentences together. The fact that line 4 (for ‘Omri’) and 5 are surrounded by two such sentence boundaries would then mean that we have to do with two sentences rather than three; thereby confirming our theory. 6 Here, it said ‫ כ‬followed by a lacuna. Most scholars add ‫( כן‬thus), but others think it said ‫( כמשׁ‬Kemosh), such as Lipiński, “Exegetical Notes”, 329–330.

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And I built Baal Meon and I made in it a water reservoir. And I bui[lt] (10) Kiriathaim. And the men of Gad lived in the land of Ataroth from ancient times and the king of (11) Israel built Ataroth for himself. And I fought against the city and I captured it, and I killed all the people [ from] (12) the city as a sacrifice7 for Kemosh and for Moab. And I brought back the fire-hearth of DWDH8 and I ha[ul]ed (13) it before the face of Kemosh in Kerioth. And I made the men of Sharon live there, as well as the men of (14) Maharith. And Kemosh said to me: Go, take Nebo from Israel!. And I (15) went in the night and I fought against it from the break of dawn until noon. And I (16) took it, and I killed [its] whole population:

7

Or: “play”, “spectacle”. These translations are used by Müller, who sees a connection between “look down on” in line 4 and 7: ‫ רית‬as ‫ראיתי‬. “König Mêša ”, 380. Lemaire argues on grounds of having studied the original copy of the Stela of Mesha that it does not say ‫רית‬, but ‫הית‬. See: A. Lemaire, “La stèle de Mesha, 143–144. Brekelmans, De erem, 31, who derives the word from ‫רוה‬, which means ‘to be satiated’. This leads to the translation “as satiation for Kemosh”. 8 This construction, especially, can be interpreted in multiple ways. It says ‫אראל‬ ‫ דודו‬in the text. A multitude of combinations arise, seeing as that ‫ אראל‬can be read in the following ways,—1. as Ar el’s own name (N.B. an interesting fact,—according to Gen. 46:16 Ar el was a son of Gad and according Num. 26:17 the tribe of Gad!) 2. altar fireplace, and seeing as that ‫ דודו‬can be read as 1. David 2. uncle 3. (metaphorically) commander 4. beloved 5. (metaphorically) YHWH (Is. 5:1). C.H.J. de Geus, “Koningsinscripties uit Moab uit de 9e eeuw v. Chr.” in: K.R. Veenhof (ed.), Schrijvend Verleden: Documenten uit het oude Nabije Oosten vertaald en toegelicht, Zutphen 1983, 25–31 on p. 26: “haar leider Ar el”; Müller, TUAT, 648: “den Altarherd ihres (Gottes) Dod”; Lipiński, “Etymological Notes”, 332–334: “Or’iel, his David”; Galling, Textbuch, 52: “den Altar ihres Dwd” (with the addition in a footnote that “dwd” means YHWH); Smelik, “King Mesha’s inscription”, 65: “the fire-hearth of his uncle”; Na aman recently put the argument forward in two articles that we have to do with a local dynasty of a certain “Daudoh”. He does this on grounds of his interpretation of the lines 31–33. See: N. Na aman, “The Campaign of Mesha against Horonaim”, BN 73 (1994), 27–30, and “King Mesha and the Foundation of the Moabite Monarchy”, IEJ 46 (1997), 83–92.

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seven thousand [ma]le citizens and aliens, females citizens and [aliens] (17) and servant girls. For I had put it to the ban for Ashtar Kemosh. And from there I took the [ves-] (18) sels9 of YHWH. And I hauled them before the face of Kemosh. The king of Israel had built Jahaz (19) and he stayed there during his campaigns against me. And Kemosh drove him away before [my] face. (20) [And] I took from two hundred men of Moab, all its division.10 and I led it up to Jahaz and I have taken it (21) in order to add it to Dibon. I was the one who built Karchoh, the wall of the wood and the wall of (22) the citadel. And I was the one who built its gates. And I was the one who built its towers. And (23) I was the one who built the house of the king. And I was the one who made the double11 reser[voir for the spri]ng in the innermost part (24) of the city. Now, there was no cistern in the innermost part of the city, in Karchoh, but I said to all the people: Make, (25) each one of you, a cistern in his house. And I was the one who cut out the moat for Karchoh by means of Israelite (26) prisoners.12

9 Lipiński adds ‫ א‬instead of ‫ כ‬and therefore translates the phrase as “the rams of YHWH”. For Moab was well-known for breeding sheep (compare to 2 Kgs 3:4). This would moreover imply that a sanctuary of YHWH stood in Nebo, according to Lipiński, which he does not regard as very likely: “Exegetical Notes”, 335. Lemaire, “La stèle de Mesha”, 161–162, sees ‫ ארלי‬here, the plural of the same “fireplace” we came across in line 12. The two lines are parallels in his opinion, since ‫ דודו‬refers to YHWH. He thinks that “beloved” must have meant something like “patron”. 10 ‫ רשׁ‬is generally read as “head”, but the meaning is not entirely clear. Galling, Textbuch, 53 sees it as “Elite” (the head as the top layer). Mostly, scholars refer to a number of biblical parallels in which ‫ רשׁ‬stands for a division (compare to our word ‘chapter’). 11 Some derive this word from the stem that could mean “sluice” or “dam”, such as Müller, TUAT, 648, “Staumauer”. 12 Andersen, “Moabite Syntax” 106–108, reads this part very differently, but this reading was not taken up by other authors: “I cut the covenant tokens for Qarho when I bound Israel”.

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And I was the one who built Aroer. And I was the one who made the military road in the Arnon. (27) I was the one who built Beth Bamoth, for it was destroyed. And I was the one who built Bezer, for [it lay in] ruins. (28) [And the me]n of Dibon stood in battle-order,13 for all Dibon, they are in subjection.14 And I was the one who became (29) ki[ng over] hundred in the cities which I added to the land. And I was the one who built (30) [Beth Mede]ba and Beth Diblathaim and Beth Baal Meon and I brought there (31) [. . .]15 flocks of the land.

Some do not read ‫ חמשׁנ‬as ‘in battle order’, but as ‘fifty’; they read “with” in the lacuna instead of “and”. The translation would then be: “I was the one who built Bezer, for it laid in ruins, with fifty people form Dibon, because all Dibon was in subjection.” An example of someone who finds this to be the best translation is KAI, Galling, and Müller. I do not think it is likely that Mesha—after having built Karcho with Israelite prisoners—proceeded to build Bezer with inhabitants of his own capital. Mesha, after all wants to show that his country is safe by pointing out that he now has a standing army (more or less). The men of Dibon stand directly under his authority and are therefore constantly available as some sort of special troops. This is how Lipiński, “Exegetical Notes”, 339–340 explains this sentence. His argument for doing so is that it is grammatically impossible that a sentence continues after the nominal sentence ‘for it laid in ruin’. Andersen moreover points out that the numeral stands before the noun, although he considers this sentence as an exception and continues to work with the translation “fifty”. See “Moabite Syntax”, 91. J.C. De Moor, “Narrative poetry in Canaan”, UF 20 (1988), 149–171, especially 155, comes with yet another interpretation. He refers to 2 Kgs 1 and mentions that in times of crisis, an army is divided into groups of fifty instead of groups of a hundred for lack of men. The meaning of this is that Mesha is telling us that the men of Dibon formed groups of fifty, because Dibon had been subjected, but Mesha has now become king over groups of one hundred. The attractive thing about this interpretation is the parallellism between 50 and 100 in the lines 28 and 29. 14 According to Andersen, “Moabite Syntax”, 113, this translation is grammatically incorrect, because a nominal sentence would require a different order of the sentences: ‫כי משׁמעת כל דבר‬. He does not give us an alternative translation. 15 Some think that these letters are ‫מע‬, others think they are ‫נק‬. The last two letters could possibly form the beginning of ‫( נקדי‬shepherds) because the next sentence features cattle. Gibson, Textbook, 75, even has a guess and reads: ‫[צאן‬.‫את‬.‫לרעת‬.‫נ]קדי‬ “my shepherds in order to tend the sheep”. Na aman, “King Mesha”, 86, interprets the phrase: ‫ ואשׂא שׁם דש מק]שׁהן ואת מטב[צאן הארץ‬as “and I carried there [their] sacred ob[ jects, and the best] flocks of the land”. 13

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And Horonaim, there lived the house of [ Da]vid16 (32) [. . . And ] Kemosh said to me: Go down, fight against Horonaim! And I went down. (33) [. . . And ] Kemosh [resto]red it in my days [. . .] from there [. . .] [. . .] (34) [. . .] And I [. . .] On the state of the material The Mesha Stela is a made out of basalt; it is 1.1 meters in length and 0.68 meters in bredth. After its discovery in 1868, the stone was purposefully destroyed. Two-thirds of the stone were recovered and luckily, a large part of the other one-third is known because a print had been made on paper before the stone’s destruction. Unfortunately, the format of the paper was just too small, so that it did not contain the last line of the text. Both the Stela and the print are now kept in the Louvre. The inscription is generally seen as the most important extrabiblical text for research of the Bible. Research of the use of language is highly relevant, because Moabite was apparently closely related to Hebrew, most especially to the Hebrew used in the Northern Empire. It is important to the understanding of the history of Israel, because Mesha also appears in 2 Kings 1 and 3. It is also important to understanding 16

Na aman, “Campaign”, 27, reconstructs these lines as follows:

‫   והורנן ישׁב בה בת דודה ואשׂא‬31 ‫ ידי אל כמשׁ ויאמר לי כמשׁ רד הלתחם בהורנן וארד ואל‬32 ‫ תחם בקר ואחזה וישׁבה כמשׁ בימי‬33

‘And Hawronen, there lived the House of [D]WD[H]. [So] I rai[sed my hands to Chemosh]. And Chemosh said to me: “Go down, fight against Hawronen”. So I went down [and fought against the city and took it and] Chemosh [res]tored it in my days.’ In his later article “King Mesha”, he adds the small modification that he does not translate ‫ וישׁבה‬in l. 33 with “restored” but with “dwelt”. See p. 86–87. However, also see P.D. Miller, “A Note on the Mesa Inscription”, Or ns 38/3 (1969), 461–464, who comes up with arguments for interpreting the phrase as “he restored it”. A. Lemaire, “‘House of David’ restored in Moabite Inscription”, BAR 20 (1994), 30–37 recently put together the turn of phrase in l. 31 ‫ בת ]ד[וד‬by looking at the paper print of the original stone. I assume that we can be certain to a very large degree that his observation of ‫ ת‬in ‫ בת‬is correct. The translation “house of David” gains in plausibility, especially in light of the mention of the same “house of David” in the Stela of Tell Dan that was found recently. According to 2 Kgs 8:22 Edom, of which Horonaim may have been part, was still a vassal of Judah at that time. The battle in 2 Kgs 3 could be a remote echo of this struggle. We cannot advance this argument beyond speculation, however.

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the history of religion, seeing as that the Stela of Mesha is the first extrabiblical text that speaks of YHWH and has an ideology and/or a theology of war that seems closely related to the theology of the Old Testament. The text poses us with a number of problems when it comes to its interpretation. For one thing, we have to do with a number of lacunas in the text as well as with several signs that are completely illegible. For another part, these problems relate to the idiom, which is rather particular to this text. The meaning of a number of words is unclear and frequently, these words form a crux interpretum. To be fair, we should mention that the text has been relatively well kept as compared to other texts; and that there is great regularity to the writing; also, that the writer had the useful habit of separating words and sentences with points and lines, respectively. Especially the last feature of the text is of great help to us. It is a great pity, however, for literary research such as our own that the ending has been damaged so much. The text is generally dated back to Jehu’s reign, around 835, but Lemaire dates it back to the reign of Jehu’s son Jehoahaz, finally coming to an estimation of around 810.17 Historical background Initially, the researchers were mostly interested in the historical information in the text. The question arose of how the Stela of Mesha compared to the information in 2 Kings 1 and 3. The problem is that both texts do not offer us a historiography in the modern sense of the word. The story in 2 Kings 3 was written as a critical prophetic perspective on king Jehoram. The Stela of Mesha was written in that Ancient Near Eastern tradition in which rulers only showed of their successes; touched up history; and omitted their defeats. Smelik attempted to reconstruct the history from the two stories, a reconstruction that we will use in the following.18 It is from the Stela of Mesha that we learn that Omri subjected Moab.19 The Bible leaves out

17 Lemaire, “La stèle de Mesha”, refers to the situation during the government of Joachaz, which was even more desolate than the situation at the time of Jehu: strikingly, in 2 Kgs 13:7 the same word ‫ אבד‬is used as in MI, r. 7: “the king of Aram had defeated them badly.” This would mean that Mesha ruled for about 45 years, from 855 to 810. Long, but not exceptionally long. 18 Smelik, “King Mesha’s inscription”. 19 Brichto, Towards a Grammar of Biblical Poetics, 201–202, however, thinks that Moab had been some sort of a vassal to Israel since David’s time and interprets the oppres-

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this success by this ‘bad’ king, who ruled from 882–871. It is unclear whether Omri obtained this victory before or after Samaria’s construction; but it seems most likely that it happened after the construction, around the year 875. Apparently, he enlisted the Northern area Medeba with Nebo, Ataroth and Jahaz as part of Israel. Dhibon and Aroer remained independent, although Moab was dutiable. Mesha writes that he rebelled at the time of “Omri’s son”, but this seems highly unlikely, given Ahab’s military power. Mesha will only have been capable of doing so after the battle at Qarqar (853) and the ensuing campaign by Shalmaneser III, which robbed Israel of its military power and after Ahab’s death (852). This theory is furthermore made plausible by the fact that Ahaziah (king between 852–851) would not have been capable of stopping Mesha due to his disease. When Mesha wrote “the son of Omri”, he must have meant his grandson Jehoram. Apparently, Jehoram successively lost pieces of the Northern area of Medeba. We get the impression, however, both from the Bible and from the Stela from Mesha that this did not happen all at once. The inscription speaks of the city Jahaz as some sort of bastion, “the king of Israel had built”, where “and he stayed there during his campaigns against me”. Smelik tries to connect the facts from 2 Kings 3 and the Stela of Mesha so that they fit in the same story by assuming that Jehoram undertook his campaign to Kir-Hareseth from Jahaz onwards. 2 Kings 3 speaks of a campaign by Jehoram and Jehoshaphat against Mesha that moved up from the South. It is hard to find an interpretation that allows for this fact to coincide with the facts in the inscription, given geography. The only way in which this could work is if Jehoram and Jehoshaphat’s campaign were to be an echo of a campaign between Moab and Judah in the South, at which Mesha seems to be hinting towards the end of his inscription. The Mesha Stela and 2 Kings 3 are similar in that they hint that Israels departure was too hasty, and overlapping with this factor, that Moab’s victory was easy and Medeba was taken effortlessly. According to the Stela of Mesha, only two places had to be taken by violence; the first being Ataroth, which had not been annexed by Israel, and where the Israelite tribe of Gad had lived from “from ancient times” (line 10); and the second being Nebo, which might be the place where

sion as imposing tribute: “Omri, then, had not so much conquered Moab as halted its expansion northward and reimposed a yearly tribute.”

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Jehoram had retreated to. Jehorams’s sudden recoil may very well be connected to the approach of Shalmaneser III and Jehu’s coup, both of which happened in 841. This turn of events occurred so suddenly that we can imagine that Mesha thanked his god Kemosh for it, whereas the bible writer called it “a great wrath”, to be precise YHWH’s great wrath.20 “Omri’s house” ruled Moab approximately from 875 to 841, which is indeed almost 40 years (line 8). Even these observations of the text do not suffice to make all facts in the two texts agree with each other, however, seeing as that Jehoshaphat appears to have died around 845,21 approximately four years before Jehu’s coup.22 On the one hand, the line “and Israel has gone to ruin, yes, it has gone to ruin for ever!” (line 7) is a typical example of war rhetorics. On the other hand, this description by Mesha may have been close to the truth, based on the accounts we find in 2 Kings 10:32–33, which say that Israel looses all areas on the other side of the river Jordan, and on the black obelisk by Shalmaneser III, which shows Jehu in a defeated position. In twelve years, Israel had plummeted from a limited superpower, capable of withstanding Assyria in the battle at Qarqar in 853, to a small, powerless, internally divided satellite state of Assyria. Genre Seeing as that the text takes notice of a rather large amount of military expeditions, the text was initially branded a “stela of victory”. Later, this view changed. Given the introduction, the text is clearly an inscription written at the occasion of the construction23 of the height (the ‫—במת‬compare to ‫ במה‬in Hebrew) for the Moabite god Kemosh

20

On the issue of this ‘anger’, see the excursion on pp. 147–148. Cogan en Tadmor, II Kings, 50. On the issues concerning the dating of the various kings in this period, see: G. Galil, The Chronology, 37–44. 22 Unless one assumes that we are actually dealing with two different wars, as is done by Lemaire, “La stèle de Mesha”. He bases his story on the assumption that the story of 2 Kgs 3 takes place around 850, in a period that Israel was still superior over Moab, while Mesha is describing the post-840 situation in retrospective. Even given this assumption, it cannot be explained why this campaign came up from the South according to 2 Kgs 3 while the Stela of Mesha mostly mentions places North of Moab. 23 J.F. Drinkard calls it a ‘memorial inscription’. See: “The literary genre of the Mesha Inscription”, in: A. Dearman, Studies in the Mesha Inscription and Moab, Atlanta 1989, 131–154, especially 152–154; De Geus “herdenkingsstèle” in “Koningsinscripties”, 26; Müller een “Votivtext” in TUAT, 646. Lipiński een “Bauinschrift”, in: W. Beyerlin, Religionsgeschichtliches Textbuch zum Alten Testaments (ATD Ergänzungsreihe 1), Göttingen 1975, 255; Smelik a “building inscription”, See: “The literary structure of king Mesha’s inscription”, JSOT 46 (1990), 21–30, especially 23. 21

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in Karchoh. If we look at the Stela of Mesha from the perspective of the delineation made by Drinkard, following Miller, between dedicatory and memorial inscriptions, the Stela falls in the second category.24 Karchoh (or Qericho) is supposedly some sort of a suburb of Dibon, Moab’s capital. The text was found there, in what is now called the city Dhiban. King Mesha tells us in his introduction that he has built the heighth out of gratitude to Kemosh, who delivered him of all his enemies. He continues to report the wars that he fought upon Kemosh’ instigation, finally concluding by mentioning his construction activities. It is a general habit among ancient eastern kings to document the military and construction activities of their reign. Excursion: J.C. de Moor’s theory on the existence of narrative poetry In an article, De Moor tried to prove that the inscriptions of Mesha, Kulamuwa and Zakkur are part of a special form of poetry, this being “narrative poetry”.25 He does so on the grounds of the theory he developed with others, relating to the characteristics of Hebrew and other North-Western-Semitic poetry.26 Supposedly, these characteristics are: a strophic structure, with strophes that generally consist of two or three (sometimes one or four) stanzas. These strophes are themselves part of larger units, which together form a poem. The length of the verse line within a strophe varies. A strophe forms a delineated unity, both from a formal and from a material perspective. Unity is frequently created through the repetition of words. These repetitions often cause a parallellismus membrorum. Parallels also arise between the verses, stanzas and

24 Drinkard, “The literary genre”. Elements of dedication inscriptions are: a. the inscription starts by mentioning an object that has been dedicated; b. the person who is dedicating the object; c. the title of this person; d. the patronym of the person; e. the name of the god to who the object is dedicated; f. the occasion of the dedication; g. request for a blessing (sometimes for a curse). The elements of the memorial inscription are: a. the name of the person; b. the position of the person; c. patronym; d. the occasion of the inscription; e. the name of the divinity; f. the object that is being dedicated; g. blessing and curse; h. summary of deeds. Although these genres were initially strictly separate, they overlap in later periods. The most essential difference between the two is that the dedicatory inscription is always written in the third person singular while the memorial inscription is written in the first person singular. Drinkard thus bases his view on: J.M. Miller, “The Moabite Stone as a Memorial Stela”, PEQ 106 (1974), 9–18. 25 De Moor, “Narrative poetry”. 26 See, for example, P. van der Lugt, Strofische structuren in Bijbels-Hebreeuwse poëzie: De geschiedenis van het onderzoek en een bijdrage tot de theorievorming omtrent de strofenbouw van de Psalmen (diss.), Kampen 1980.

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strophes. Finally, it is worth mentioning that the beginning and end of a poem often correspond with each other, this is called inclusion. De Moor applies this theory to all of the three aforementioned texts. This line of argumentation had been prompted by a remark by Anderson on the so-called ‘sentence boundaries’, the vertical lines that have been placed in Mesha’s inscription between certain sentences.27 Andersen already noted that these lines actually put two ‘sentences’—as ‘notifications’—together, between which a certain parallelism can frequently be noted. It should be mentioned that Andersen emphazises that the Stela of Mesha is not poetry in his opinion. De Moor disagrees. His conclusion is the following: the sentence boundaries divide the text into verses. Two three, or four of these verses form a strophe and two or three of these strophes themselves form a ‘canticle’. Mesha’s inscription is thus composed of eight such ‘canticles’. He continues to make similar analyses for the inscriptions of Zakkur and Kulamuwa. Although De Moor’s analysis of the repetitions of words and parallels is a very useful contribution, his argument is not convincing. Andersen’s conclusion is that while it is clear that the sentences show a great deal of parallellism, it remains more probable that the text is non-poetic. We can advance the following arguments in favour of this statement. 1. Although the length of the verses varies in all Semitic poetry, the variation is simply too large in the analysis of De Moor. For instance, Kulamuwa’s inscription has one ‘verse’ of four words (line 1) and one of eleven words (line 6/7). 2. Based on Van der Lugt’s purely formal description of the genre, Mesha’s poetry may be called poetic, but our sense of language tells us differently. Surely, we get the sense that this is prose from the lack of certain other aspects of poetry, aspects that have to do with language rather than with structure, such as the use of metaphors and personal pronouns. The inscriptions of Mesha and Zakkur do not have any metaphors! The texts come across as much too business-like to be poetry. They lack epic and lyric elements. Lines 3 and 4 of the Kulamuwa-inscription are a perfect example of parallelism according to Van der Lugt’s criteria, but are these lines truly poetic? There was Bmh, but he has done nothing. There was my father Bayya but he has done nothing.

27

Andersen, “Moabite Syntax”, 85–88.

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3. This brings us to our third point. What would the Sitz im Leben of such a text have been? Apparently, De Moor would situate the text in a setting similar to the epics.28 It is a well-known fact that victories were celebrated with singing. We have come across several stories in the Bible in which this happens (Ex. 15, 1 Sam. 18:6–7) and with respect to the extrabiblical texts, we have yet to come across the Verse Account on Nabonidus (Chapter 3.9). A song or a poem will have had a much greater reach than a Chronicle or a historical story—especially in a society that was still illiterate. Would a bard or the people in the street, however, sing this song in the first person singular? The only parallel that comes to my mind is the Wilhelmus, the Dutch national anthem. 3.1.2. The level of the event Classification of events We will continue to use the following scheme when we discuss the other texts of this chapter. It is an attempt to classify the various types of events that follow in a similar way to the way in which we classified the Old Testament stories, in order to be able to measure the type of event to which the most amount of representational time is devoted.

Exposition phase a. self presentation of b. occasion of the text c. previous kings d. summary of the story

1 3 2 4–7

complication phase

Medeba Ataroth Nebo

Jahaz

a. aggression from the outside b. request for an oracle c. oracle

7–8

18–19 14

Horonaïm

32

climax a. battle b. divine intervention c. support by third party

10–11 9

14–17 19

33

28 I derive this from remarks such as the following “We only have to take into account the laws according to which the ancient bards used to compose their epic accounts”. See “Narrative poetry”, 160, although it should be noted that this quote only refers to the phenomenon of inclusion.

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Table (cont.) dénouement a. increase in welfare b. construction activities c. religious measures d. annexation e. deportation f. punishment (ban)

21–30 9–10 11–13

17–18 21 20–21

13–14 16–17

conclusion/sanction a. curse b. blessing

?

Improvement/turn for the worse The period of Mesha’s reign, including the wars that were fought by him, are unambiguously regarded as an improvement in the text. If the estimation in line 3 is correct, the improvement is marked beautifully in the following manner: four verbs each occur twice in the text: ‫( ישׁע‬to deliver), ‫( ענה‬to oppress), ‫( ראה ב‬to look down on) en ‫( אבד‬to be destroyed). And I made this high place for Kemosh in Karchoh as height of deliverance, because he delivered me from alle kings and because he has made me look down on all my enemies. Omri . . . oppressed Moab for many days . . . And his son . . . said—he too—I will oppress Moab. In my days he did so. But I looked down on him and on his house, and Israel has gone to ruin, yes has gone to ruin for ever!

The structure is a beauty. The double liberation at the beginning is mirrored by the double downfall of Israel at the end. In between, the turn of events is marked by a chiastic word couple: to look down on—to repress—to repress—to look down on. All of this is strengthened by the indications of time “many days” . . . “my days” . . . “for ever”. Actors The text has two narrative programs. We could summarize these two programs with the well-known words “liberation and reconstruction”. Kemosh’ quest lies in liberation/reconstruction, according to the text, while Mesha’s quest is reconstruction.29 Kemosh is the subject of the text

29 See K.A.D. Smelik, “The literary structure of king Mesha’s inscription”, JSOT 46 (1990), 21–30.

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in the first part. In our interpretation of reality it should say ‘Mesha’, but we will follow the narrator, who has an ideological obligation to ascribe the honor of liberation to the god.

Kemosh

[. . .]

Mesha

Mesha, two hundred men

Kemosh

anger, Omri, Omri’s son

De text calls many questions to mind. Why was Kemosh angry with Moab (line 5)? And to what factor does Mesha own the turn in Moab’s composure? In other words, no motif is mentioned. Why is Mesha the subject of this goodwill (“for he has delivered me”—line 4) rather than Moab? The second quest is of stunning simplicity:

reconstruction

People of Karcho, Israelite prisoners

Mesha

Destructed and desolate places without cistern, ruins

Time The text has very little indications of time, and those indications we come across are imprecise: “thirty years”, “many days”, “my days”, “his days”, “the days of his son” and “forty years”. The last indication seems an exact one, but Smelik notes that “forty years” seems to be a standard expression for “a generation”30 (also compare to similar indications of time in the books of Exodus and Judges). The nature of the text resembles some sort of retrospective vision of the entire period of the king’s reign, similar to memoirs, and uses terms that are reminiscent of memoirs: “his days” . . . “my days” . . . “the days of his son”. It is therefore impossible to say anything about the dating of the

30

Smelik, “King Mesha’s Inscription”, 82.

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events themselves. They could have taken place in the same year; they could have also been spread out over 40 years. It is mentioned in line 15 that the campaign against Nebo was prepared in the night and ended in the morning “from the break of dawn until noon”. Place By contrast, we find many indications of places in the text.31 At the beginning of the text, we find ourselves in Karchoh (which is probably a part of Dibon). The military operation follows a strange zigzag pattern that evidently does not reflect the chronological order. If it did so, it would mean that Jahaz, which lies closest to Dibon, was conquered the last. This seems a risky strategy.32 In part III, the writer returns to Karchoh with its construction activities in order to inspect a number of other places from there. We have put the above information in an overview: I Introduction II Military expeditions II.a II.b II.c II.d III Construction activities IV Conclusion

V Appendix

Karchoh Medeba, Baal Meon, Kiriathaim Ataroth, Kerioth, Sharon, Maharith Nebo Jahaz, Dibon Karchoh (3x), Aroer, Arnon, Beth Bamot, Bezer Dibon, (Beth?) Medeba, Beth Diblathaim, Beth Baal Meon

Horonaim 3.1.3. The level of the story

Interventions in the order of time It is likely that there many more interventions in the order of time than the number that we can derive from the text, seeing as that there are so little indications of time. At the most, we can hypothesize that the

31 Lemaire, “La stèle de Mesha”, 145, points out that one of the differences memorial inscriptions (such as annals) and construction inscriptions is that the first are mainly organized chronologically, while the last category is characterized by a geographic organizating principle. 32 Smelik assumes that the following will probably have been the order of conquests: Medeba, Jahaz, Nebo en Ataroth. See Smelik, “King Mesha’s inscription”, 84–85.

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order of conquests was different than is suggested in the text based on information outside of the text. One can regard the introduction as anticipation: the happy ending is told before the rest of the story. The fact that a conquest was obtained has already been ascertained, all that remains to be told is how it happened. This reminds us of the art of narration we found in the Bible. However: while the biblical stories make the ‘how’ into an exciting quest by using different focalizations (the prophet predicts a happy ending, but will this actually come to pass?), the Stela of Mesha uses less literary techniques. The writer attempts to avoid the danger of a boring enumeration through variation in the construction of scenes, but the text does not really summon any real tension. The text apparently did not aim to increase the tension or to offer support and a source of recognition to the reader; rather it had as its goal to enumerate Mesha’s excellent deeds and to glorify Kemosh. Remarkably, the anticipation in l. 4 is followed directly by a flashback in l. 5: Mesha tells us how much Moab had been repressed during the kingship of his father. Mesha’s grandeur becomes even more apparent through this contrast with the misery from the past.33 Tempo It is not necessary to make a schedule of the tempo for this story, because only one tempo is used—that of the “summary”. In four cases, someone is brought to the stage in speaking capacity, but in none of those four cases does the story take on the tempo of the scene: l. 6:

And he said—he too—(i.e. the son Omri): “I will oppress Moab.” l. 14: And Kemosh said to me: “Go, take Nebo from Israel.” l. 24–25: And I said to all the people: “Make, each one of you, a cistern in his house” l. 32: And Kemosh said to me: “Go down and fight against Horonaim.”

33 Compare to Müller, “König Mêša ”, 382: “Düsteres Einst und lichteres Jetzt stellen auch die Zeilen 18/9 versus 19–21 einander gegenüber. Wenn vor allem gleich zu Anfang, in Z. 7, behauptet wird, es sei nicht nur eine wirkliche Vernichtung ( bd bd), sondern diese auch noch endgültig ( lm) geschehen, so liegt auch darin eine letztlich religiös motivierte Realitätskorrektur, mit der die Erzählung das Absinken des Spannungsbogens vorwegnimmt: das Gute hat definitiv gesiegt; denn Kamos und Mêša haben ein für allemal dafür gesorgt.”

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We could suppose that, like in Hebrew, it is hard to distinguish between the direct and indirect speech in the Moabite language compared to our modern Western languages. In other words, we could suppose that line 6 could equally be translated as follows: “And he too, said that he would oppress Moab” or even in the free indirect speech: “And he, too, planned on oppressing Moab.” Nonetheless, letting characters speak seems to have a function. We will come back to this in the paragraph ‘focalization’. The tempo of the summary has the effect of raising the impression with the reader that the text is “in a rush”. As if only the results matter. The road to the result, the problems the main character had to overcome, the individuals that helped him do so—we hear nothing of these matters. Distribution of representational time Putting the number of lines per even in a schedule gives us the following overview: exposition phase a. self presentation b. occasion for writing the text c. previous kings d. summary of the story

7 1 1 1 4

lines lines lines lines lines

complication phase a. aggression from the outside b. call for an oracle c. oracle

4,5 lines 2,5 lines – 2 lines

climax a. battle b. divine intervention c. support by third parties

6 lines 4 lines 2 lines –

dénouement a. increase in welfare b. construction activities c. religious measures d. annexation e. deportation

17,5 lines – 11 lines 4 lines 0,5 lines 2 lines

war in a number of extrabiblical texts conclusion/sanction a. curse b. blessing

321

? ?

The most striking aspect of this schedule is that the phase of dénouement is assigned the greatest amount of representational time relative to the other phases. This confirms what we had already said in the above about the “effectiveness” of this text. Mesha is eager to show what his kingship has yielded. Conversely, the complication phase is very short.34 Mesha seems to find his construction activities more important than his acts of war. Focalizations Since the text was written in the first person, it does not feature an external narrator or an external focalizator.35 Seeing as that Mesha especially tells us about his own deeds, it is even true that in the better part of the story, the same person is the narrator, the focalizator and the main character.36 Factually, we are only informed of his vision of his father, of Omri, and of the situation in his land. Only in four cases are we looking through the eyes of other characters, two in total. These are the following: l. l. l. l.

5: 6: 14: 32:

Kemosh son of Omri Kemosh Kemosh

Kemosh was angry “I will oppress Moab” “Go, take Nebo from Israel.” “Go down and fight against Horonaim.”

Once, the character of Mesha himself speaks, this being in l. 24/25: And I said to all the people: “Make, each one of you, a cistern in his house”

34 This is all the more striking because it is the other way around in the biblical stories. 35 As was noted above in the paragraph ‘genre’, Drinkard regards this as the difference par excellence between what he calls dedicatory inscriptions and what he calls memorial inscriptions. “The dedicatory inscription is in third person, while the memorial inscription is in first person.” See: Drinkard, “The literary genre”, 139. 36 Bal, De theorie van vertellen en verhalen, 126–132. A story such as the story in the Stela of Mesha can be formalized in the following manner: (I tell you: (I have seen:)) I have taken Nebo.

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Effects of focalizations It may be clear that the focalizations have a legitimizing effect. The “son of Omri” only speaks in the text in order to tell us that he will be oppressing Moab. And Kemosh has the floor a couple times in order to incite Mesha to undertake military expeditions. Mesha demonstrates that he has divine legitimation by ascribing the initiative to Kemosh and by placing the strategy of battle itself in a religious context (offer and ban). We do not hear any critical comments, especially not any comments coming from a prophet.37 The characters also remain rather flat—no motifs are mentioned, for instance—and the painting seems to have been painted in claireobscure. Why was Kemosh angry? Why did Omri’s son want to suppress Moab? Why did Mesha dedicate one city to Ashtar Kemosh, but not the other? These kinds of focalizations that lend tension and depth to a text are missing here. The entire text was written in the first person; this creates the image of ‘complete control’,—Mesha has everything under control. The omnipotence he has as narrator reflects the (omni-)potence he has as a king. We, modern readers, are irritated by this. A text that is so clearly written for the purpose of self-glorification seems to be a form of severe bragging to us. The question remains to which extent this was the experience of the reader of the text who lived in Mesha’s time, but we think we can derive from the writings of the biblical prophets that such a text would have been received critically in earlier times, too. A text that is written in the third person singular is probably more effective for propagandistic purposes. An external focalizator who con-

37 Smelik, “King Mesha’s inscription”, 67–68: “Mesha, Chemosh and Omri’s ‘son’ are all introduced into the text as speaking characters. Mesha is in fact speaking all the time, but in part III he gives a building order to his people in direct speech. Chemosh adresses Mesha twice [. . .] in both cases, Chemosh’s order relates to a military operation. The king of Israel, however, does not address anyone; he only speaks to himself. This variation agrees with the general characterization of the dramatis personae: Mesha is concerned with his people and his building activities, whilst Chemosh is responsible for the military operations. He addresses the king of his people, but Omri’s ‘son’ merely expresses an intention to himself, in which he will not succeed. This emphasizes his isolation: on the Israelite side there is no god like Chemosh, no succesfull king like Mesha, no obedient people like the Moabites.”

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323

firms what a character says or approves what a character does is more likely to win the trust of the reader.38 3.1.4. The level of the text Repetition of sounds/play upon sound It is hard to prove whether we can speak of repetition of sounds. After all, we do not know how Moabite was pronounced. The best we can do is to discuss our hypotheses based on a close examination of the consonants. We suppose that there is a relation between the name ‫( משׁע‬Mesha or Moši a) and ‫]י[שׁע‬, “deliverance”, which we come across in l. 3/4, all the more since it is followed directly by: ‫כי השׁעיני מכל המלכן‬. The two parts of line 4 have the same rhythm and internal rhyme, which is also visible in the text of consonants, as well as a parallellismus membrorum just as the line of a poem:39

‫כי השׁעיני מכל המלכן‬ ‫וכי הראני בכל שׁנאי‬

In line 7, we can read a turn of a phrase, which must have had a threatening ring to it, whichever way it was pronounced, because of three short words at the end. Whatever else is true, Mesha at least crushes Israel in a literary sense: ‫וישׂראל אבד אבד עלם‬. In line 8 and 9 (and also in line 31 and 33), there is a play with words with Omri “living” (‫ )ישׁב‬in Medeba “in his days” and returning (‫)שׁוב‬ to that region “in my days”:

‫וישׁב בה ימה‬ ‫וישׁבה כמשׁ בימי‬

38 Julius Caesar had it right when he saw this in his De Bello Gallico and wrote about himself in the third person. 39 Auffret, “Essai”, 111, sees this as “un jeu d’assonance (proche du palindrome) entre mkl et hmlkn.”

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Niccacci supposes a play with words in the name of the city Keriot (‫בקרית‬ ִ ) and the killing of the people from the city as a “show” or “offering” (‫ )מהקר רית‬in line 12 and 13.40 The phrase ‫“ אנכי בנתי‬I was the one who built” in the lines 21–28, repeated ten times, moreover with the variations ‫( עשׂתי‬I was the one who made), ‫( כרתי‬I was the one who cut), ‫( מלכתי‬I was the one who became king) must have sounded as a happy chorus, as an Ancient Near Eastern version of “veni, vidi, vici”. In line 26, the syllable “k/q-r” is used thrice in a sentence about digging the kanals of Karchoh (the sentence alliterates in our language, too). There must have been some imitation of sound in the following phrase: ‫כרתי המכרתת בקרחה‬. Repetition of words Seeing as that the words in the Stela of Mesha have been distributed throughout the text in a remarkable manner, we have put them in a schedule. We have also made a categorization of the scenes based on these motif words, which is also indicated in our scheme. The break-off point for the scenes tends to coincide with the end of a line; because of this, three words were both part of the last line and part of the next scene. We have indicated these words with a “*”. We will discuss the motif words in more detail when we discuss the structure.

line

‫אנך‬

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

1 1

‫בנה‬

‫ים מלך עשׂה‬

‫פנם הרג אחז לחם כמשׁ שׁוב ישׁב ארץ‬

1 2 1

1 1 1

8 9

2

40

1

1 1

1

2 1

1

1

1 1

Niccacci, “The Stele of Mesha and the Bible”, 243.

1

war in a number of extrabiblical texts

325

Table (cont.) line

‫אנך‬

10 11 12 13

‫בנה‬

‫ים מלך עשׂה‬

1

1

‫פנם הרג אחז לחם כמשׁ שׁוב ישׁב ארץ‬ 1

1 1 1 1

14 15 16 17 18

1 1

1 1

1 1 1

1 1

19 20 21

1*

22 23 24 25 26 27 28

3+1* 2+1* 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 1 1 2 2

29 30 31

1+1* 1

32 33 34

1

1 1

1*

1

1

1 1

1 1

1

1

1 1

1 1 1* 1

1

1 1

1

1

Repetitions of themes Thee themes in the Stela of Mesha are the following: a. the king’s legitimacy as compared to earlier kings: – legitimacy based on the dynasty: r. 1–3 – occasion of writing the inscription: Kemosh has delivered Mesha, r. 3 – aggression by foreign kings: r. 4–7

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b. war – Kemosh calls for war: r. 14, r. 31 – Kemosh fights himself: r. 9, 19, 33 – loot as offering/ban: r. 12, 17 – deporting cultic objects: r. 12, 18 – war as a result of war god(s): r. 5 – measures of governance, such as annexation: r. 21, 29 c. – – –

construction military works, including walls, gates, towes, military road civil works, including palace, cisterns, wells religious works, including temples and heights.

d. Intertextuality It is hard to find examples of intertextuality in the modern sense of the word, i.e.—to evoke meaning by referring to or hinting at concrete other texts. In order to do this, we would have to prove that the writer and the reader each knew that the other possessed knowledge of certain other texts. Nevertheless, if we widen our interpretation of the concept to include the evocation of well-known motifs, it becomes clear that Mesha’s inscription makes use of this method. Müller even notes: “Die Phraseologie scheint hier international und interreligiös.”41 Mesha uses all these characteristics of the genre of memorial inscription in this text, thereby creating the impression with his contemporary readers that they have to do with a legitimate, pious, successful king, who is moreover well-loved by the gods. Apart from the contemporary ancient eastern texts, we can find many similarities between this text and texts and thoughts from the Old Testament. This war story reminds us of psalms of gratitude and praise in the Old Testament in more than one way. For example, the reminder of the deliverance in l. 3/4, which is ascribed to the god: “Because he has delivered me from all kings and because he has made me look down on all my enemies.” The lines that follow have the same idioma: “Israel

41

Müller, “König Mêša ”, 379. The following is in part based on his article.

war in a number of extrabiblical texts

327

has gone to ruin, yes, it has gone to ruin for ever!”, which reminds us of the ending of the song of Deborah.42 Furthermore, some motifs remind us of the warfare of the Old Testament, such as the two oracles: “Go, take Nebo” and “Go down and fight against Horonaim”. We can even find an interpretation of history in the phrase “for Kemosh was angry with his land” (line 5). “Das Zentrum der Kriegsfrömmigkeit und damit von so etwas wie einer einfachen Geschichtstheologie ist die Überzeugung, daß sich das Gelingen im Kriege ebenso wie die vorangehende politisch-militärische Notlage dem Handeln eines Gottes verdankt.”43 We can find back complete turns of phrases from the Stela of Mesha almost verbatim in the Bible. For example, compare line 19: “and Kemosh drove him away before my face” to Deuteronomy 33:27: “God drove your enemy away before your face”:

‫ויגרשׁה כמשׁ מפני‬ ‫ויגרשׁ מפניך אויב‬

The same is true for elements such as the ban, divine intervention in the battle and the deportation of cultic objects to the temple of one’s own god (r. 17–18 and 1 Sam. 4–5). We have also seen the symbolism of the numbers 30 and 40 in the Bible, which indicate a generation, respectively a period of crisis. Metaphors We have not found any metaphors in this text. Structure The text can be broken down as follows: 1–7: I overview of the reign of the last king 8–21: II military activitities 8–9: II.a Medeba 10–13: II.b Ataroth 14–18: II.c Nebo 18–21: II.d Jahaz 22–28: III construction activities

42 43

Jgs 5:31: ‫כן יאבדו כל־אויביך יהוה‬. Müller, “König Mêša ”, 378.

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28–31: 32–end:

IV conclusion V appendix

This categorization is based, for a large part, on Smelik’s research,44 but it differs at the beginning. We regard lines 5–7 as part of the introduction and not as part of the military activities. The scenes seem to be positioned like the tiles of a roof, which makes classifying difficult and arbitrary. Still, we think our categorization brings some clarity to the structure. A comparison between these overviews of the structure of each scene and the overview of motif words that we gave before shows that each event has its own idiom. Scene I We shall firstly begin by representing the structure of scene I:

element

l.

A

1 I am Mesha

‫בן‬

‫שׁת מלך‬/‫ים‬

‫כמשׁ‬

‫ישׁע‬/‫ענה‬

son B 2 My father was D E F

of Kemoshyatti of Moab

the king king

C’

Other

over Moab for thirty years

And I was 3 I made for as height of

king

after my father this high place in Karchoh

Kemosh deliverance

44 Smelik, “King Mesha’s inscription”. Other categorizations have been made. Andersen, “Moabite Syntax”, for example, divides the text into eighteen paragraphs. He does so on grounds his belief that so-called sentence boundaries, the vertical lines in the text, are a structural element rather than some strange punctuation marks. He thinks that this text can be divided in unities that each contain two statements. Niccacci, “The Stele of Mesha”, finds yet another structure, basing himself stricly on grammar: a (l. 1–4), b1 (l. 5–10), b2 (l. 10–18), b3 (l. 18–21), a’ (l. 22–30), b’1 (l.31), b’2 (l. 31–34), a’’ (l. 34). Since II.c on Nebo starts with an imperfectum consecutivum, this part follows from the previous part in his opinion. And since a sentence boundary preceeds ‘Beth Baal Meon’ in l. 29, he thinks a new part starts there that has to be an act of war given the grammatical construction. And he regards the word in l. 34 as a hint that the very last pericope starts here; probably, he assumes right.

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329

Table (cont.) element

‫בן‬

l.

‫שׁת מלך‬/‫ים‬

4 For he from all and because he

G A’ B’

‫כמשׁ‬

‫ישׁע‬/‫ענה‬

Other

has delivered

me

has made me look down

on all my enemies

kings

5 Omri was the king

of Israel and he Moab oppressed

C’

for many days

E’ D’

For 6 and his son and he said—he too— I will

F’ C

Kemosh was angry with his land succeeded him oppress in my days

G

7 But I

looked on him and on down his house has gone to ruin, yes it has gone to ruin

And Israel

C

Moab he did so

forever!

This structure makes clear why we think that lines 5–7 are still part of the introduction.45 In this introduction, Mesha means to compare two periods. On the one hand the many days (C’) of Omri (A’), king of Israel (B’), in which he could suppress Moab (F’), seeing as that Kemosh was angry with Moab (E’). This period will have taken up about thirty

45

Auffret, “Essai”, 113, points at the many connections between lines 1–4 and 5–7 although he regards these lines as two separate paragraphs. Smelik, “King Mesha’s Inscription” 69–70, also sees l. 5–7 as part of II.a, as part of the military operations, but also notes: “The struggle against Israel having been described in a general way in section II.a, the topic is treated again in the sequel, this time in detail. Therefore, section II a can be regarded as a second introduction and, thus, as a literary bridge between part I and the description Mesha’s war with Israel in sections II b–d.”

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years of his father Kemosh-Yatti (C’). Omri’s son succeeded him (D’) and imagined he could continue in a similar manner. He neglected to take Mesha (A), king of Moab (B), into account who, in his days (C), now that he has succeeded his father (D), moved Kemosh to release his people (F) and for this reason made a height (E) for him. The unique result is that Mesa can look down on Israel and that Israel has been brought to its ruin (G). Of course these events have no parallel, because it has never before occurred in history. Similarly, it is logical that in the chronological representation of these events, A’–F’ were mentioned first, because Mesha is narrating hysteron proteron: from the ‘now’ of his kingship he is looking back at the unhappy past and this scene ends with a positive conclusion (G) so as to avoid a sad ending of the scene. Scene II The word ‫ ים‬is the tile that leads to the first military event, which also compares earlier times to current events. Other motif words for this second part are: ‫( ישׁב‬to live) and ‫שׁוב‬ (to return)—which can frequently be found in each other vicinity as a play upon words. Further motif words are, ‫( לחם‬to fight), ‫( אחז‬to take), ‫( הרג‬to kill) en ‫( פנם‬face). It is also remarkable that Kemosh is mentioned no less than seven times in this part. In the second part, the part with all the military activities, four different operations are described in total. These four are also connected through ‘tiles’. The tile between II.a and II.b is composed of the verbs ‫( ישׁב‬to live) and ‫( שׁוב‬to return) and ‫( בנה‬to build). The tile between II.b and II.c is made up out of the three verbs ‫לחם‬, ‫ אחז‬and ‫ הרג‬IId takes up all kinds of themes from previous scenes: ‫בנה‬, the construction by the king of Israel in II.b; ‫—ישׁב‬the king of Israel living in II.a, the ‫לחם‬ (fighting) and ‫( אחז‬taking)—this time without ‫( הרג‬to kill)!—from II.b and II.c. Notice that the subject of ‘fighting’ is not Mesha here but the king of Israel. This is what we see when we try to put these tiles into a schedule:46

46 Auffret also notes that II.b and II.c on the one hand and II.a and II.d on the other hand are very similar to each other in terms of the choice of words and the structure. See “Essai”, 117–118. We shall come back to this aspect of the structure in III.1.5, under the heading ‘ideology’. Na aman brings our attention to the fact that two types of war are hidden in this composition, each with their own legitimation.

war in a number of extrabiblical texts scene place II.a II.b II.c II.d

Medeba Ataroth Nebo Jahaz

‫בנה‬

‫ישׁב‬

‫שׁוב‬

2 1

1 2

1 1

2

1

‫לחם‬

‫אחז‬

2 1 1

1 2 1

331

‫ הרג‬offer/

cult

‫פנם‬

1 1

1 1 1

ban

1 1

1 1

Structure scene II.a This scene has the motif word ‫ ים‬as a tile to scene I and the pair of motif words ‫ ישׁב‬and ‫ שׁוב‬as a tile to scene IIb. A B C X B’ C’ A’

7/8 Omri had taken possession of the whole land Medeba And he lived (‫ )ישׁב‬there in his days (‫)ים‬ and half the days of his son, forty years 9 But Kemosh restored it (‫)שׁוב‬ in my days (‫)ים‬. And I built Baal Meon etc.

Again, this scene is well-construed, comparing the earlier days to the current days. Kemosh stands at the centre as the pivot of this scene. The construction of the two locations, which apparently belong to the country of Medeba, stands in contrast to the act of taking possession of the land with no occasion by Omri. The opposite also happens, as we can see in the next scene:

On the one hand, the original Moabite areas are reclaimed in II.a and II.d. In this situation Kemosh, especially, is fighting for Moab (he restored, he drove away). Seeing as that this area already belonged to Moab and therefore to Kemosh, it does not have to be ‘dedicated’. By contrast, Ataroth, Nebo and Horonaim do need to be dedicated, seeing as that these areas were originally Israelite, in other words non-Moabite. In the latter case, Mesha needs to justify his battle by referring to an explicit assignment by Kemosh. In this case, it is Mesha himself who is waging war (for his god). Also, he is the one to sacrifice the people in a ritual, dedicating them to Kemosh with the ban. See: Na aman, “King Mesha”. Another explanation is offered by Brekelmans, De erem, 32, who supposes that Mesha had to mobilize every support he could find for such a difficult war of conquest and that the function of the erem vow was to make Kemosh committed to this war. As an aside, Brekelmans finds, in opposition to Von Rad, that the erem belonged to the offensive rather than to the defensive war in the Bible as well. See pp. 153–163.

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Structure scene II.b The motif word ‫ בנה‬is the tile from the last part, the three words ‫לחם‬ ‫ אחז הרג‬form the tile to the next part.47 A B C D

10

X

12

11

D’ 13 C’ B’ A’

And the men of Gad lived in the land of Ataroth from ancient times. and the king of Israel built Ataroth for himself and I fought against the city and I captured it and I killed all the people [from] the city as a sacrifice for Kemosh And I brought back the fire-hearth of DWDH. and I hauled it before the face of Kemosh And I made live the men of Sharon and the men of Maharith.

Kemosh is not having something return to Mesha but rather the opposite is the case: Mesha is returning the altar fireplace. Kemosh, however, stands at the centre of the scene again. The city which was built by the king of Israel is “ethnically cleansed” in this manner and repopulated with Moabites. Structure scene II.c A 14 And Kemosh said to me: B Go C Take Nebo from Israel B’ C’ 16 X 17

15

And I went in the night and I fought against it from the break of dawn until noon and I took it and I killed its whole population etc For I had put it to the ban for Ashtar Kemosh.

47 Auffret also noted that the scenes are linked to each other by means of certain link-words: “Nous avons déjà relevé les mots qui assurent l’enchaînement d’une unité à l’autre sous mode de mots-crochets assez proches l’un de l’autre”. See “Essai”, 115.

war in a number of extrabiblical texts C’’ B’’ A’

18

333

and from there I took the vessels of YHWH And I hauled them before the face of Kemosh.

Scene II.c has a simple structure. De scene starts with an assignment by Kemosh, which is carried out word-for-word by Mesha, and the scene ends with Kemosh. Both the battle and the loot are sanctified. Astar Kemosh stands at the centre of this. “Fighting” and “taking” in C’ correspond to the “haul” of cultic instruments in C’’, parallel to the two groups of words in in II.b correspond to each other. Auffret clearly lists the similarities between the scenes II.b and II.c in his article:48 10/11

ysr l t ( trt) w lt m . . . w zh w hrg . . . kl (ryt) lkmš mšm t ( r l dwdh) w sbh lpny kmš

12 13

14 15/16 17 17/18

t (nbh) l ysr l w lt m . . . w zh w hrg . . . klh l ( srt) kmš msm t (kly yhwh) w sbh lpny kmš

Structure scene IId In scene II.d. Jahaz, like Ataroth in II.c, is an appetizing, well-built prey that falls into Mesha’s hands easily. A B X B’

18 19

A’

21

20

The king of Israel had built Jahaz and he stayed there during his campaigns against me And Kemosh drove him away before my face. I took from two hundred men of Moab, all its division, and I led it up to Jahaz and I have taken it in order to add it to Dibon.

Kemosh, then, stands at the centre again; he is once again actively involved in the battle. The Israelites apparently left on their own

48 Auffret, “Essai”, 117. Incidentally, Auffret maintains his own indexation of these lines. We have adapted the numbers of the lines as used by Auffret to the usual line numbers in our quote.

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initiative this time, so that Mesha is capable of populating the city or the bastion with its own division without killing enemies. Scene III The verb ‘to construct’ in II.d forms, among others, the tile to the third type of scene, the type of scene that has construction activities. The structure of this scene resembles an enumeration or a song with a chorus. It is absolutely clear what the motif words are: ‫( אנך‬I), ‫( בנה‬to construct) and the synonym ‫( עשׂה‬to make), which are used respectively 10x, 7x and 3x. “To make”, apparently, is the technical term for the department “transport and water management” (a water reservoir, a well and a military road are constructed), while the word “constructing” is reserved for certain architectural masterpieces such as gates, towers, houses and complete cities. The difference between scene III and the rest of the inscription is remarkable. There are differences at every level—at the level of spelling, of idiom, of the use of tempora, of the syntaxis, even at the level of the ideology. The word “house” is spelt ‫ בת‬in the military part, but it is spelt ‫ בית‬in the construction part; in the military part, the imperfectum consecutivum is used (even when construction episodes take place in the episode: ‫)ואבנ‬, while all verbs in the construction parts are in perfectum form (‫ ;)בנתי‬the nota accusativi almost only occurs in the military part, Kemosh strongly comes to the foreground in the battle, while he is completely absent in the construction episodes; and more differences can be mentioned.49 In the past, scholars thought the text possibly derived from two different sources, or they thought the writer had deliberately tried to use two different styles, one style written in the language of the people, and one mimicking the style of the court.50 However, it seems more likely to suppose that one important stylistic and ideological motif formed the distinction between the two parts for the writers. The military opera-

49 See Andersen, “Moabite Syntax”, 116–119, especially 118–119: “While the style of the war sections resembles classical Hebrew narrative prose, the style of the building sections resembles the inscriptions of Azitawadda and of Zakir. Perhaps the inscription is a mixture of conventional models.” And in footnote 8 on p. 119: “Since building operations are also described in the military report, it should be emphasised that towns are built with ’t in the war section, without ’t in the building section, even though the same verb is used in both parts.” 50 Gibson, Textbook, 88: “Those trained in the ways of biblical criticism may be tempted to detect two separate sources used by the writer [. . .]”

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tions are ascribed to Kemosh, so that all emphasis lies with him in these episodes, while the king remains in the background. By contrast, in the construction episodes, all attention befalls the king, because construction is the task of the king. In these activities, the king can explicitly show himself of, by using the emphatic ‘I’ (‫)אנך‬. Moreover, in liberation, the process matters, so that the writers chose a narrativum, while with construction it is mostly the end result that counts.51 All other grammatical differences can supposedly be traced back to this. For instance, the nota accusativi is necessary to a narrativum, because the subject and object are both placed after the verb and this can cause confusion. With the perfectum, which is placed between the subject and the object, no confusion is possible, especially if it is preceded by an explicit subject ‘I’. Scene IV In part IV, the words and themes from the introduction come back and it seems justified to call this part the “conclusion”. The part once again deals with Mesha’s kingship (‫)מלך‬. Construction activities take place here; and if the constructed buildings are indeed santuaries (it says ‫ בת‬twice, maybe even thrice),52 then this would seem the equivalent of the height at Karchoh, which is mentioned in line 3. At this height in Karchoh, Mesha refers to other sanctuaries that he has built with the goal of his military successes. Note that two out of the three places mentioned are from part II: lines 8 and 9. Once again, this is a tile construction. Scene V Scene V is difficult. On the one hand, the scene is fragmentary; on the other hand, the scene seems to break the structure. Theme-wise, this scene is similar to part II. We therefore feel for the suggestion to regard this scene as an appendix, the addition of a campaign that took place at a later date to a stone that apparently had some left-over space. Or perhaps, a campaign that had nothing to do with Israel, but something to do with Judah.53 In any case, Kemosh and the verb ‫( לחם‬to fight) reappear in this part. 51

Such as, “King Mesha’s Inscription”, 67–68. If one reads ‘Bet-’ in the lacuna before ‘Medeba’, as is generally done. 53 After a suggestion by Auffret. After all, l. 4 mentions “kings” and we only come across the king of Israel in the first part untill l. 31. “Essai”, 123. 52

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The latter two scenes are too short and too fragmentary for us to be able to detect a structure. 3.1.5. The theology/ideology of the text Focalization of the king We have seen that the king focalizes himself in Mesha’s inscription. And that he likes to see and present himself as a pious, successful and legitimate king. He knows that his success depends on Kemosh, of whom he is a loyal servant. There are only two other focalizators— Omri’s son and Kemosh. Kemosh was angry before, but apparently not angry with Mesha. We do not learn why he was angry. Omri’s son is brought to the stage as a speaking character, apparently to show that he underestimates Kemosh, and thereby Mesha. He thinks he will be able to continue his father’s politics. We have also noticed that little metaphors are used in this text. Just like in the Bible, the characteristics of the main character predominantly become clear through his deeds. Valuation of the war Na aman points out that an Ancient Near Eastern king also had to justify war.54 He disposed of two criteria in order for a war to be a justified war: it had to a defensive war and/or a war to recapture land that had previously been lost, or (especially in the case of offensive wars) the king had to fight because his god had decreed so.55 Both of these arguments are used by Mesha.

54 See: Na aman, “King Mesha”, 84–85: “The need to justify the waging of war and territorial expansion is too well known to be discussed in detail. A king must convince his god(s) and his subjects that the military acts have just causes in order to gain both divine and public support. Thus, the reasons for going to war constitute an important element in ancient Near Eastern royal inscriptions [. . .] Mesha justifies his military acts by claiming that they are a response to earlier Omride aggression. His expansion in the Medeba-Atarothh-Jahaz areas is therefore a restoration of the territory to its legitimate owner; hence the use of the verbal form ‫‘( וישׁבה‬restored, brought back’) in reference to the conquest of the land of Medeba (lines 8–9: ‘Chemosh restored it in my days’). The hiph il form of the verb ‫ שׁוב‬has this sense of restoration of territory, and its selection was intended to emphasize the legitimacy of the act of territorial expansion. Since this is a Moabite propagandistic claim, it remains uncertain whether the entire land of Medeba, or only a part of it, had been Moabite domain prior to Omri’s conquest. On the other hand, Mesha’s two other campaigns, against Nebo and Hauronen/Horonaim, were conducted outside the ‘conquered territories’. To justify their conquest, he emphasizes that these campaigns were conducted at the command of his god Chemosh.” 55 We have seen that other reasons are possible as a justification in paragraph 1.3.2. when we discussed Oded’s theory.

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The war is clearly valued as a positive event in this text. Kemosh was able to “deliver” his people through the various battles fought by Mesha. In this text, we can observe relatively many of the elements which were considered part of ‘the holy war’ by Von Rad: the ‘oracle’ (in other words, the divine assignment), the battle which is led by the god and the dedication of the prisoners of state by means of the ban.56 Effect of the valuation of the war on the valuation of the king The valuation of the war has a positive effect on the valuation of the king. His “days” are considerably better than his father’s “days”. For some reason or another, Mesha has won the favour of Kemosh and for this reason, he is highly successful in battle. Apparently, these two attributes are each other’s equivalent. It seems as if we can also turn the statement around: the king’s military success is proof of divine favour. This becomes clear from the tone of self-glorification employed by Mesha, and even more than that, from his gratitude. Mesha almost employs the protestant scheme of “misery, salvation, gratitude” as a way to indicate that above anything else, he wants to thank his own god Kemosh for the turn in faith that has befallen his people. Focalization of the gods If it is true that Asthar Kemosh is the same god as Kemosh, then we can say that only one god appears in an acting capacity in the text. YHWH is mentioned, but only the phrase “the vessels of YHWH”. The common Ancient Near Eastern ideology of national gods seems to be based on this: each country had its own god—Kemosh for Moab and YHWH for Israel. The natural task of these gods was to defend their country. It is furthermore striking that adjectives and adverbs are lacking, while epithets also apply to the god. Kemosh is simply “Kemosh” (as opposed to the “Enlil of the gods” or “the Enlightened” or “the god of Moab” or whatever). On the other hand, Kemosh and Moab are mentioned in the same phrase in line 12 as the ones to whom Ataroth’s inhabitants were offered.57 56

See I.1.3. Kemosh was equated with the war god Ares (= Mars) in the interpretatio graeca. This can be told from the fact that Dibon was called Areopolis in the Hellenistic period. Ashtar is related to the morning star, in any case. The following may be somewhat speculative, but it may be possible that a connection between two heavenly bodies is suggested that had also always existed in the mythology of other religions: De Moor, “Narrative poetry”, 154, points at texts from Ugarit which make clear that Anatu/ Ashtartu had a great preference for killing soldiers. In a legend from the fifth century C.E., the “Live of St. Nilus” someone is sacrificed to the morning star Attar 57

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The relationship between divine and human activity The following themes play a role in the relationship between divine and human activity: – division of work: the king is responsible for construction, the god is in charge of the war (potentially aided by the king) – guilt/punishment: Omri’s repression is the result of Kemosh’ wrath. We also come across this theme in the Bible and in the Cyrus Cylinder. In these texts, it is explicitly mentioned why the god had become angry. This is completely obscure for the stone of Mesha. Which mistake did Kemosh-Jatti and Moab make before that was not made by Mesha and Moab now? – order/obedience: Kemosh gives the order for war and Mesha carries out the order. – cooperation: Kemosh restores, and Mesha does the same thing. Mesha takes and kills, but Kemosh “drives away from the face of Mesha.” – gratitude: Mesha is building his height as a thank-you gift for Kemosh. Theology/ideology of the text The ideology is the same ideology we find elsewhere in the Ancient Near Eastern world, which is that the national god serves the best interests of his people. Strikingly, we observe the same thought that we found in the Bible, which is that a defeat for the people does not have to entail a defeat for the god. Moab’s defeat was the consequence of Kemosh’ anger. This thought, however, is always elaborated upon in the Bible from a prophetic perspective. The idea is to immerse the people with knowledge of what it has done wrong, and to point out that there is always a way back. We do not come across this line of reasoning here. Instead, the idea has fallen into the hands of a king who uses it to glorify himself. For example, one can note that Mesha does not mention defeat in battle, although Mesha also suffered defeat; while the Bible omits king Omri’s victories. Still, the text also contains the religious

by the Arabs early in the morning. Also note that in Mesha’s inscription, the inhabitants of Nebo are sacrificed to Asthar-Kemosh and that the battle for Nebo is the only one in which it is explicitly mentioned that it took place in the morning. De Moor is of the opinion that it is possible that Ashtar is a gohdess as well as Kemosh’ wife. The feminine final -t may be lacking but it is in Babylon with Ishtar. Also see Kang, Divine war, 77: “The compound Ashtar-Chemosh in line 17 may refer to the goddess Ishtar, the Akkadian divine warrior who is considered Chemosh’s mate.”

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experience of positive bemusement on the matter of repression. The god apparently merely uses the king as a vicarius deorum. The limited cast of actors does not include any prophets, priests or extras. As beautiful a reconstruction as it may be, Na aman’s theory that Mesha was the one who created the national entity of ‘Moab’ and was the first one to make Khemosh, de god of Dibon, into a national god for this purpose is too speculative.58 We also have to reject Stern’s (and Müller’s) position that the stone of Mesha and the Bible were written based on the exact same ideology because it is too unsubtle.59 In each case, the writers draw on imagery from the same register but the ideologies and theological images from this register are applied differently. 3.2. The Kulamuwa Inscription 3.2.1. Introduction to the Kulamuwa Inscription Translation Text editions: – KAI, bd I, 4–5 (text nr. 24) – SSI, vol. 3, 33–34 Translations: – ANET, 500–501 – KAI, bd II, 31

58 See Na aman, “King Mesha”, 86–87: “In the five military episodes, Chemosh is twice represented as a divine conqueror (lines 8–9, 19); twice he initiates the campaign (lines 14, 32); and three times he receives a chosen share of the booty (lines 12, 17–18, 33). The message of the inscription is clear: Chemosh is the divine leader at whose personal guidance and instructions the king leads his people to the victorious wars [. . .] The combination of these building measures, coupled with religious ideology and royal propaganda (as witnessed by the inscription), apparently brought about the promotion of Chemosh to the status of the Moabite national god.” 59 P.D. Stern, “Of Kings and Moabites: History and Theology in 2 Kings 3 and the Mesha Inscription”, in: H.H. Paper e.a., HUCA 64 (1994), 1–14, especially p. 14: “Yet in dealing with the Biblical material of 2 Kgs 3 and the MI, their disagreement on the historical/factual level makes their agreement on the theological/religious side all the more striking. The common elements in Moabite-Israelite sacred war ideology and practice extend both to divinely directed sacral struggle in which human beings fight the enemy with all-conquering divine aid (following consultation of an oracle), and to the erem. It seems clear that the religion of Moab influenced Israel’s religion in an important, perhaps decisive way.”

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– SSI, vol. 3, 34–35 – TUAT, bd I, 638–640 (1) I am Kulamuwa, the son of

ay[ya].

(2) Gabbar was king over Y dy60 but he has do[ne] nothing. (3) There was Bmh but he has done nothing. There was my father ayya but he has done nothing. There was my brother (4) Sha il but he has done nothing. But I Kulamuwa, the tr[ue] son,61 what I did, (5) my predecessors did not do.62 The house of my father was in the midst of mighty kings. (6) And each one stretched forth his hand to f[igh]t.63

60 The little state generally known as Sam al, in what is now Southeast Turkey, is also called Y dy in a number of inscriptions. Doubts have arisen on the pronounciation of the latter city according to TUAT, 638, note 2, since it became clear that the name yau-di is supposed to apply to Judah and not to Sam al in a number of Assyrian texts. 61 We can see the letters [.] ‫תמ‬.‫ בר‬here. Both Donner and Röllig, KAI II,32, and Müller, TUAT, 638, mention the possibilities of either the name of the mother having been written here, or of a; having been added, so that it says ‘completeness’. The name of the mother could be necessary for showing that Sha il was not a brother, but a half brother, for instance. This seems highly unlikely to me, however. The name of the mother is not mentioned anywhere else. Moreover, one would expect that the matronym would also be mentioned along with Sha il, to mark the difference. K. Euler, “Königtum und Götterwelt in den altaramäischen Inschriften Nordsyriens”, ZAW 56 (1938), 272–313, thinks this is the correct interpretation. I would opt for the other suggestion. Donner and Röllig also refer to the expression ‫ בן צדק‬in KAI nr. 16, l. 1, which is translated with ‘Erbsohn’. ‫ צדק‬has the connotation ‘legitimate’ instead of ‘just’ in certain inscriptions (for example in KAI nr. 10, l. 9). ‫תמת‬.‫ בר‬could be an Aramean translation of this concept. Even then, we suppose there is a rivalry between Kulamuwa and his brother Sha il. The negative notes about his predecessors lead us to believe that Kulamuwa was a self made man. D.S. Sperling, “KAI 24 re-examined”, UF 20 (1988), 323–337, makes the suggestion ‫תם‬.‫‘ גבר‬perfect hero’ on the pages 326–327, an analogy with ‫תמים‬.‫( גבר‬2 Sam. 22:26) and ‘etlum gitmalu’ in Assyrian texts. The problem would then be where he finds ‫ ג‬on the hand and where he leaves the lacuna on the other hand. 62 Gibson, SSI 3, 34, translates this with: “not even their predecessors accomplished”, apparently reading the ending ‫ הם‬in ‫ לפניהם‬as a suffix, ‘their’. 63 Here, we can read the letters ‫[ם‬.]‫לל‬. Generally, (‫ ח‬is added in the lacuna. ANET, 500, and Gibson, SSI 3, 34, translates it with “to eat it”. Müller, TUAT I, 638, inter-

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But I was in the hand of the kings like a fire64 consuming the beard (7) and [like] a fire consuming the hand. The king of the Danunians was more powerful than I. But I engaged (8) against him the king of Assyria.65

prets “es zu verzehren”. This seems to have been inspired by the repetitive use of the verb ‫ אכל‬in what follows. ‫ לחם‬is not used in the sense ‘to digest’ in Phoenician, but it is sporadically used in that meaning in Hebrew and frequently in Ugaritic. M. O’Connor calls this suggestion “absurd” in “The Rhetoric of the Kilamuwa Inscription”, BASOR 226 (1977), 15–29, especially in 21. ‫לחם‬, however, also does not occur as ‘to fight’ in Phoenician and in addition one would expect a nif al. This problem is solved by presuming that the writer was mistaken in the line. The ‫ה‬, which is a sign too much in ‫הלפניהם‬, should in this case be placed one line below in ‫ל* הל]ח[ם‬. This trick solves two cruxes at once. We can imagine that a correction in the writer’s draft (a ‫ ה‬written above the text) was misunderstood by the stone worker. Either way, the translation ‘to fight’ seems the most logical. 64 The word ‫ כמאשׁ‬can interpreted in many ways. It is well-known as a proposition and as a conjunction. In these forms it means “similar to”, respectively “as if ”. The meaning of the phrase in this case would be “as if I ate his/my beard”, which is not very different from our translation. My interpretation, however, that concurs with the interpretation of most interpreters, is that there are two words: ‫כם אשׁ‬. This combination can itself be translated in two ways “as a man” ánd “as a fire”. The latter translation seems to fit best. The metaphor is also know from the Bible: YHWH’s glory as a “consuming fire” (‫ )אשׁ אכלת‬is found in Ex. 24:17 and Deut. 4:24 and 9:3. The kings thought that they controlled Kulamuwa, but he turned out to be an easily inflammable torch, one of those that will burn your fingers and scorch your beard. Fales offers a variation of this interpretation, reading the first sentence as “as if I were eating (my beard)”, i.e. as a description of the famine, and the second sentence as “but, like fire, I devoured the hand (itself )” as a description of the liberation. This necessarily has to be a play with words, because the words are morphologically and perhaps even phonetically identical. See: F.M. Fales, “Kilamuwa and the Foreign Kings: Propaganda vs. Power”, WdO 10 (1979), 6–22, especially 12. KAI II, 31, and TUAT, 638, try to interpret this sentence as a description of Kulamuwa’s crisis, before he had liberated himself. TUAT therefore takes the opposite interpretation of the personal pronouns: “Und ich war (derart) in der Gewalt der Könige, als ob ich meinen Bart aufgezehrt und als ob ich meine Hand aufgezehrt hätte.”. M. Oeming holds yet another vision in “‘Ich habe einen Greis gegessen’: Kannibalismus und Autophagie als Topos der Kriegsnotschilderung in der Kilamuwa-Inschrift, Zeile 5–8, im Alten Orient und im Alten Testament”, BN (47) 1989, 90–106. He believes that ‫ זקן‬should not be seen as ‘beard’ but as ‘greybeard’. Kulamuwa, in this view, would be depicting the enormous economic crisis at the time of the war here. He refers to various other texts, that also feature cannibalism (2 Kgs 6:28–29) and even eating one’s own body parts. This interpretation is far-fetched. It moreover kills the parallelism between ‘hand’ and ‘beard’. Finally, it would be unheard of that an ancient eastern king would depict his own ordeal and helplessness in such a dramatic manner. 65 M. Liverani, “Kulamuwa 7–8 e 2 Re 7”, in: D. Garrone en F. Israel, Storia e Tradizioni di Israele: Scritti in onore di J. Alberto Soggin, Brescia 1991, 177–183. The writer goes into the parallel texts, in which a smaller king hires a more powerful king, such as in 2 Kgs 7:6, where the king of Israel hires the king of the Hittites and the king of Egypt. It is striking that this story also has an enormous deflation following on the liberation: suddenly, there is an abundance of food supplies for little money. Liverani

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A young woman was given for a sheep and a young man for a garment.66, 67 -----------------------------------------(9) I, Kulamuwa, the son of Bayya,68 I ascended the throne of my father.

explains this as follows: what would be the gain for a smaller king in calling for the help of a more powerful king? After all, this implicitly meant the beginning of a sovereignvassal-relationship. The gain must have been of an economic nature, such as sharing the loot. ‫ שׁכר על‬can better be translated with “hiring, the costs being for . . .” (“assoldai a spese di”) than with “hiring for the price of ” (“assoldai contro”) in his opinion. 66 The big question is: who is giving what to whom? There are about four possibilities A. Kulamuwa is telling us what he had to pay to the king of the Danunians before his liberation. As is said in KAI II, 33: “die wirtschaftliche Notlage soll besonders anschaulich geschildert werden. Menschen hatten den gleichen Wert wie Vieh.”. Compare to 2 Kgs 6:24–29. O’Connor comes up with an interesting biblical parallel: Jl 3:2–3 (MT 4:2–3). In this story, a great crisis is depicted with such images as “they have given a boy for a prostitute, and sold a girl for wine, that they may drink” B. Kulamuwa is telling us for how much he has hired the king of Ashur. C. Kulamuwa is telling us for how little he has hired the king of Ashur. This is the view of Rosenthal in ANET, 500: “Kilamuwa apparently used a proverb in which a buyer boasts of a good bargain. He not only hired the mighty king of Assyria, but was able to do so cheaply.” D. This phrase is about what the Danunians had to pay after the liberation. See 2 Kgs 5 to read more about the habit of providing slaves after a lost war. Kulamuwa is bragging about the low prices after his victory. We also come across this theme in KAI nr. 215, lines 9–10. I go with the latter interpretation. Also see the last footnote about the deflation after a victory. Fales also goes with this line of thinking and points at a prism of Ashurbanipal, in which he tells us that he was handing out camels as sheep and that slaves were sold for a bundle of herbs after a victory over the Arabs. See: Fales, “Kilamuwa and the Foreign Kings”, 20. As an aside, he translates the phrase as “he (i.e. the king of Assyria) gives me a maid for a sheep, a young man for a garment.” 67 Sperling, “KAI 24”, 333, makes an interesting attempt at finding a different translation for this sentence. He truthfully points out that a ‘garment’ was in reality a rather expensive object and that it does not strengthen the proverb as such. We moreover find grain products as the ultimate example of something cheap in similar texts. ‫ שׁ‬can be interpreted as ‘sheep’ as well as as ‘še u’ “barley”. His explanation of ‘swt’ is more complicated, though. According to two different laws of sound, this should be traced back to an Akkadic loan word ‘samidu’, which means ‘groats’. In this way, he finds the following translation: “He gave a maid for barley and a man for groats.” 68 O’Connor translates these as two separate sentences: “I am Kilamuwa bir Haya’. I reign on my father’s throne.” In his commentary, he says “The king begins the second portion of the text by introducing himself again.” I do not think that this is a new introduction; rather, it is an announcement that he is taking over the throne from his father. This is information that he had not mentioned in part I. In this case, we should translate the phrases as one sentence.

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Under (10) the former kings,69 the Mushkabim70 were living as dogs. But I was a father to some, and to some I was a mother (11) and to some I was a brother. Whoever had never possessed a sheep,71 I made owner of a flock. And whoever had never possessed an ox, I made owner of (12) of a herd and owner of silver and owner of gold. And whoever had never seen linen from his childhood, in my days I clothed him with byssos.72 (13) I, I took the Mushkabim by the hand and they, they made their soul as the soul of an orphan towards its mother. (14) And whoever of my sons who will sit in my place, and who damages this inscription: may the Mushkabim not honor the Ba ririm and may the Ba ririm (15) not honor Mushkabim.

69

See: J. Tropper, “‘Sie knurrten wie Hunde’: Psalm 59,16, Kilamuwa: 10 und die Semantik der Wurzel lun”, ZAW 106/1 (1994), 87–95. He interprets ‫ יתלכן‬instead of ‫יתלנן‬, based on a number of arguments, the most important ones of which include the collation of the text (a picture is included) and the fact that the verb ‫ לון‬does not occur in Phoenician anywhere. The form would then be a Gt-stem with an archaic final-nun, which leads to the same interpretation as the hitpa el in Hebrew: “they walked”, “they lived”. What is meant by this is that the Mushkabim were leading a miserable life, but after Kulamuwa rise to the throne, they became ‘part of the family’. 70 One normally thinks of a layer of the population (compare to “Hebrews”). It is derived from the verb ‫ שׁכב‬and thus means something to the extent of “those who were humiliated” or “those who are submissive”. Donner and Röllig, KAI II, 33, think this refers to the native rural population, who are repressed by the newly arrived Aramean upper layer of the population. Only De Moor, “Narrative poetry”, 168, translates this as ‘subjects’, while he translates ‫ בעררם‬as ‘leaders’. He does not make clear how he arrives at this latter translation. Donner and Röllig, KAI II, 34, derive Ba ririm from a stem that means ‫ בער‬II, “to be brutal” in Hebrew. They translate it with “Wilden”. Müller, TUAT I, 639 also thinks it likely that there is a connection with a stem that is related to the Hebrew ‫בעיר‬, “cattle”. In this case, it would mean “cattle-breeders”. 71 This may be an akkadism. Literally, it says: “who had not seen the face of the sheep”. In Akkadic, “dagālu pani” means “to possess”. 72 Byssos is a fine, and because of this, an expensive type of linen. The idea behind the entire paragraph is that everyone who had to satisfy themselves with the simple version, could afford the more luxureous product during the time Kulamuwa.

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And whoever destroys this inscription: May Ba al Zemed,73 who belongs to Gabbar, strike his head (16) and may Ba al Hammon, who belongs to Bmh, and Rakib-El, the lord (Ba al) of the house, strike his head. On the state of the material The text of this inscription, which is currently in the Vorderasiatisches Museum in Berlin, has been preserved in rather flawless state. The stone did, however, break as a result of a fire in the palace, so that a number of letters are lacking on the line where it broke. The text is written in Old-Canaanite writing, with the words being divided by means of dots. Horizontal stripes divide the lines of the text. It is striking that the text consists of two parts, which has been clearly marked on the stone with no less than three horizontal stripes. Above and below this caesura, there are exactly eight lines. As that Kulamuwa’s inthronization is the first thing told after this caesura, it is as if Kulamuwa wants to suggest that this event literally and figuratively occurred in the middle of time. As if history can be divided in ‘before Kulamuwa’ and ‘after Kulamuwa’. In the top left corner, we find an image of Kulamuwa, or so we suppose. In his left hand, he is holding a flower and with his right hand he is pointing at relgious symbols. For a large part, these symbols are the same as the symbols on the inscription of Barrakib (KAI 217).74 Donner and Röllig offer some explanation of these symbols.75 From left to write, moving away from the image of Kulamuwa, we see the following: a horned hat as a symbol for Hadad, a yoke for hitching

73 Donner and Röllig, KAI II, 34 go into the names of the gods in some detail. From the facts that Ba al Zemed belongs to Gabbar; Ba al Hammon to Bmh and Rakib-El is called “the lord of the house (= dynasty)”, they deduce that apparently Gabbar and Bmh were part of other dynasties than ayya, Sha il and Kulamuwa. Ba al Zemed is a rather unknown god. “Zemed” could be translated as “two team” or “yoke” and may be connected to the symbol of the yoke above the inscription. The word ‫ חמן‬may be translated as “smoke offering altar”, but it could also be connected to the Amanus mountain range. It has also been seen as an identification of Ba al with the Hurritic weather god dha-ma-ni. See Müller, TUAT I, 640, note 16 a. The divine name Rakab el is mostly known in Sam al. The name of king Barrakib was derived from it. Müller thnks that we have to do with an epithet of Ba al. Literally, it means “rider of El”. 74 It is strange that no commentator goes into these symbols. If the image is more important than the word in our society, would this not be all the more true for an illiterate society? 75 See KAI II, 234.

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a horse to a chariot as a symbol of Rakib-El, a winged sun disk as a symbol of Shamash and a reaping-hook in the form of the moon as a symbol of Sin. What is striking, perhaps, is that West-Semitic gods (Hadad and Rakib-El) stand next to Babylonian-Assyrian gods (Shamash and Sin). Is Kulamuwa trying to emphasize his convent with Assyria? It is as if he is trying to make an impression as a vicarius deorum,—his head standing close to the gods, his feet firmly planted in the part that describes his golden age. His right hand lifted up to the gods, who— through him—are making things flourish. Historical background Kulamuwa’s inscription was found in Zinçirli (Northwest Syria). In this place, a little state existed for several centuries, named “y dy”. It was also frequently called Sam al. All things considered, not a lot is known about Kulamuwa and Sam al.76 Donner and Röllig state that we should place Kulamuwa in the time around 825, but they do not explain the grounds for this supposition.77 We know from other inscriptions that Sam al was an ally of Assyria at the battle at Qarqar (853), while it was under the rule of Kulamuwa’s father ayya(ni), so it was fighting against Aram and the alliance. In the inscription of Zakkur (see 3.3), however, Sam al is mentioned as an ally of Aram against Zakkur of Hamath (around 785). Kulamuwa says that he has hired the king of Assyria against the kings that threaten him (see lines 7–8). It happens to be true that Shalmanassar III did not undertake any campaigns after 827, because Assyria was dealing with an internal power struggle. Adad-nirari III (811–783) is the first who gets around to the task of waging war in the West, but by that time Sam al is apparently already on the Aramean side. We therefore have to conclude that the events took place before 827. In 833, Shalmanassar III carried out a campaign in the nearby area of Bit Agusi.78 It is conceivable that Shalmanassar III en passant came to the aid of his loyal ally Kulamuwa during skirmishes with kings in the surrounding areas. But perhaps we should date the events themselves to a period

76 See H. Klengel, Syria 3000–300 B.C.: A Handbook of Politicial History, Berlin 1992, 214–215. A. Kuhrt, The Ancient Near East: c. 3000–330 B.C., London/New York, 1995, 454–455. K.R. Veenhof, Geschichte des Alten Orients bis zur Zeit Alexanders des Großen (ATD Ergänzungsreihe 11), Göttingen 2001, 245–246. 77 KAI II, 30. 78 Klengel, Syria, 200.

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even before that, because if it is true that Shalmanassar III has the West under such control around 833, it is not likely that a number of his vassals get into a fight amongst themselves. Perhaps we should consider the period between the battle at Qarqar and the final success of Assyria in 841—these were years in which the battle between Assyria and the coalition was still undecided. This insecurity will not have been without risk for Sam al, as it lies right at the front line. Ir uleni of Hamath lived only fifty kilometers further down! Kulamuwa would have been a contemporary of Mesha, if our theory is correct. Another question is who the mškbm (Mušshabim) and the b rrm were. Ishida thinks that in these two terms, we can see a conflict between a native Anatolian (mškbm) and an allochtonous Aramean (b rrm) group of the population. Kulamuwa’s brother Sha il may have chosen for the b rrm, while Kulamuwa may have risen to power with help from the mškbm.79 In any case, the ending of the text gives us the impression that Kulamuwa is proud of having reached a—albeit fragile—equilibrium between both groups. Genre The genre of the text is the so-called “memorial inscription”,80 supposedly made for the occasion of the dedication of Kulamuwa’s palace. This is what has been deduced from the place, in which the inscription was found: in the hall of the palace. The text was recovered during the excavation in 1902. The text has been the subject of literary research on multiple occasions. Collins tried to prove that we have to do with a poetic text, but he was not successful.81 In an interesting article, O’Connor confuted this hypothesis, reporting on his literary analysis.82 He calls the text a “record of royal braggadocio”, “a major textbook for political propa-

79 T. Ishida, “‘Solomon who is greater than David’: Solomon’s succession in 1 Kings 1–2 in the light of the inscription of Kilamuwa, king of y dy-Sam al”, in: J.A. Emerton (ed.), Congress volume: Salamanca, 1983 (VTS 36), Leiden 1985, 145–153. 80 See Miller, “The Moabite Stone” and Drinkard, “The literary genre”. Some elements of the characteristics of genre summed up by the latter researcher are missing, however (see paragraph 3.1.1.), namely the elements ‘occasion of the inscription’ (element d) and the identification of the ‘object that is being dedicated’ (element f ). 81 T. Collins, “The Kilamuwa Inscription—a Phoenician Poem”, WdO 6 (1971), 183–188. De Moor followed this view, see his excursion with 3.1.1. 82 O’Connor, “Rhetoric”. Especially see p. 18: “The Kilamuwa inscription cannot be called poetry in any usable sense of the term. We must call it what we call all the best political propaganda in any language: brilliant rhetorical prose.”

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ganda of the period” and a “verbal sophistication unequaled in the Phoenician corpus”, but despite seventy years of studies the text is still not “entirely understood and appreciated”.83 3.2.2. The level of the event Classification of the events In a strictly narratological sense, very little events are mentioned in Kulamuwa’s inscription. He describes the status quo rather than events. This also becomes clear from the grammar of the text (see 3.2.4). Kulamuwa is interested in the results of his deeds rather than in his deeds themselves. His main objective is to compare the situation before his rise to the throne to the one after it; he wants to do so in two fields: the military and the economic situation. There is a reason why he placed three firm horizontal lines in between these two periods. “The times they are changing.” Seeing as that an event is defined as “the transition of one situation to another situation, caused by or underwent by actors”,84 this text can be called a narrative text after all. The events mentioned are:

exposition phase a. self presentation b. occasion of text c. previous kings d. summary of the story

1 2–4 4–5

complication phase a. aggression from the outside b. call for an oracle c. oracle

5–6

climax a. battle b. divine intervention c. support third parties

83 84

O’Connor, “Rhetoric”, 15. Bal, De Theorie van vertellen en verhalen, 22.

6–7 7–8

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9–13

conclusion/sanction a. curse b. blessing

14–16

Improvement/turn for the worse The events in the text entail an enormous improvement, especially for the group of the Mushkabim, which “were living as dogs”. Both politically and economically, we have to do with a spectacular improvement. While the people used to be “in de hand” of kings that wanted to fight, Kulamuwa is now feeding his subjects with “motherly” “hand”. A hand, that is readily accepted and trusted, as a (half )orphan would accept the hand of his mother. Economically speaking, poverty had reached great depths before (line 11–12), but now, everyone can call themselves owner of sheep herds and walks around in byssos. Actors The field of actors is once again highly limited:

gods (?)

peace/prosperity

Mushkabim

king of Assyria

Kulamuwa

earlier kings, potential heirs, king of the Danunians

Time There are no indications of time in the text, apart from two very global “before the former kings” (line 9–10) and “in my days” (line 12). We do not learn from the text when the Danunians attacked Kulamuwa; when Kulamuwa hired the king of Assyria and how long the battle lasted.

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Place We have not found indications of time in the text, and neither have we found indications of place. Apparently the king of Assyria arrived, but there is no mention of movements. Actually, the lack indication of place is the most surprising. After all, it is normal for memorial inscriptions that indications of place are missing, but generally speaking, places are mentioned (compare to the inscriptions of Mesha and Zakkur). 3.2.3. The level of the story Interventions in the order of time One could typify line 4 as anticipation: “what I did, my predecessors did not do”—what Kulamuwa had done exactly remains to be told. Line 9–10 on the ‘dogs life’ of the Mushkabim is a small flashback. Kulamuwa looks back upon the economic situation of this group at the time of his predecessors as a contrast with his own government, which enables him to represent his government as the golden age. Whether there are other interventions in the order of time depends on our interpretation of the lines 8 and 9. If we interpret line 8 as a description of the enormous economic improvement after the victory on the Danunians, this could also be regarded as anticipation on the description of the increased prosperity in lines 9–13. This interpretation is tied into our views on line 9. Is this a new introduction? We advocate not reading this line as a new introduction but as a “report” of Kulamuwa’s inthronization. The anticipation in line 8 and the flashback in line 9–10 then nicely form each other’s reflection, with this inthronization as a mirror in the middle. ‘a young woman for a sheep (anticipation) a young man for a garment inthronization Kulamuwa before the former kings (flashback) the Mushkabim lived as dogs Tempo We only find two tempi in this text, the summary and the ellips. In some places, the summaries are so short that they resemble ellipses. Lines 2–4 are reserved for a summary of the reign of no less than

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four predecessors of Kulamuwa. The summary is easily made: “he did nothing”. Subsequently, the battle is mentioned (5b–7), but no mention is made of how the battle took place and what happened,—only the result matters. The same is true for the economic improvement in 9–13. It is not told how Kulamuwa made the Mushkabim rich. All that is told is that it happened. Like Mesha, Kulamuwa is mostly interested in the result and regards the process towards the result as an ellips. Distribution of representational time exposition phase a. self presentation b. ocassion of text c. previous kings d. summary of story

4½ lines 1 line – 2½ lines 1 line

complication phase a. agression from the outside b. call for an oracle c. oracle

1 line 1 line – –

climax a. battle b. divine intervention c. support third party

2½ line 1½ lines – 1 line

denouement a. increase prosperity b. construction activities c. religious measures d. annexation e. deportation

5 line 5 line – – – –

conclusion/sanction a. curse b. blessing

3 lines 3 lines –

With two exactly equal halves with an identical beginning, the classification of the text is in complete equilibrium. The predecessors and

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the successors (curses) are granted almost the same amount of attention (2½ and 3 lines, respectively). The same is true for the themes of war and economic improvement. The numbers on these themes are: 3½ and 5 lines. Focalizations There are only three focalizators, all three are internal. Kulamuwa is the most important one. The second group of focalizators is the Mushkabim. We hear their perspective on the situation in lines 10 and 13. In line 10, we learn that “they lived as dogs”, and in line 13 that they “they made their soul as the soul of an orphan towards its mother”. An interesting group of focalizators is made up of the potential sons of Kulamuwa at the end. This final formula informs us of the possibility that later generations may have a different outlook on history. Effects of focalizations The effects of the focalizations are legitimizing-propagandistic. Both the vision of Kulamuwa and the one of the Mushkabim have the result of immersing the reader with the huge change that was Kulamuwa’s kingship. A critical view is not allowed for, not even a view of doubt. If we place this fact besides the critical remarks Kulamuwa allows himself to make about his predecessors, the total image is strange. Sperling calls it a faux pas to state that ones predecessors did nothing.85 A king might brag that he did more than his predecessors, but what Kulamuwa is doing, i.e. discarding his predecessors as a bunch of fainéant rulers, must also have been not done in his circles and in his times. But perhaps Kulamuwa is ‘preaching for his own parish’ with the Mushkabim. The text mostly seems to aim at creating internal unity (faced with previous kings, faced with the Danunians) than at convincing critics. It resembles a soccer club’s anthem, in which jokes are used to ridicule the opponents. In other words: who will dare burn his fingers by attacking Kulamuwa?

85

See Sperling, “KAI 24”, 325: “Long ago, Torrey observed that the king ‘would hardly have committed the faux pas of boasting that he “did more” than those who had “done nothing”’. The accuracy of that observation is bolstered by Akkadian royal inscriptions, which influenced Northwest Semitic inscriptional style [. . .]. Instead, they boast that their specific achievements outweigh those of the previous.” Incidentally, Sperling takes this observation as a ground to interpret the given sentences as elliptic: “Gabbar . . . did not (what I have done).”

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Repetitions of sounds/play with sounds We hear the phrase ‫( בל פעל‬he did nothing) as a refrain in the lines 2, 3 (twice), 4 and 5. Whichever way this is pronounced, both the repetition and the alliteration (assonance?) must have been remarkable. The phrase moreover ‘rhymes’ with the turn of phrase ‫ שׁתי בעל‬. . . ‫בל חז‬ (whoever never possessed . . . I made owner), which occurs twice in the lines 11, and of which the two first words are repeated yet again in line 12. The activity of ‘doing nothing’ of Kulamuwa’s predecessors is even reflected in the sound of the ‘having nothing’ of the Mushkabim, who become ‘haves’ in the end. Another play with sounds can be heard in the words ‫( אשׁ‬fire, line 6 and 7) and ‫( ראשׁ‬head, line 15 and 16) and in the words ‫( מלכם‬kings, line 5–6) and the ‫( משׁכבם‬Mushkabim, line 10, 13, 14 and 15). We will come back to this when we discuss the structure. Repetition of words

r.

‫משׁכבם מי שׁ בעל שית יד לפנם אם אח אב כת כן פעל מלך מלך אנך‬ verb noun

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

1

1

1 1 1 1

9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

1 1

1

1 1

1

1 2 2 1

3

1

1

1

1

1

1

2 1

2 1 1 1

1 1

1

1

2 1

1

2 2

1 2 2

1

2 3 1 1

1 1 1 1

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This overview makes visible the similarities in the structure as well as the differences in the structure between the two parts. Similarities include: repeating the personal pronoun ‫( אנך‬I) thrice, while only repeating ‫( לפנם‬previous kings) once. Another similarity is the word ‫( יד‬hand), which has the military-agressive connotation of “extending a hand” above the line and the domestic meaning of “taking by the hand” below the line. The same thing is true for the words ‫אב‬, ‫ אח‬and ‫( אם‬father, brother and mother), which have a political meaning of the royal family above the line, while below the line they create the image of protection (the way a half-orphan looks to his mother). Another connection between the two words stems from the word ‫( שׁ‬sheep). Above the line, it is an image of the lifting of famine, below the line it is symbol of the increased prosperity. We can find differences in terms such as ‫( פעל‬to do) (although that word seems to rhyme with ‫( בעל‬owner) and ‫( מלך‬king) as terms that mostly pertain the political-military area. Within that part, we find a remarkable repetition of the verb ‫( כן‬to be). It is used four times in the third person singular, with the neutral meaning “there was” and once in the first person singular as some sort of an antithesis: “but I was”. A king, apparently, can “be” in different ways. A similar reflection takes place in the second part with the verb ‫( שׂית‬to make). Here, it occurs twice in the first person singular, meaning “I made [. . .] owner” and once in the third person plural as an expression of gratitude: “they made their soul as the soul of an orphan”. The second part is furthermore characterized by an economic field of words, the most important word being ‫( בעל‬owner), as mentioned before. Strikingly, the word is used thrice more as the name of a god (Ba al). The Mushkabim, which are mentioned four times, make clear what church Kulamuwa is preaching for, i.e. what his main perspective is. They seem to reflect the ‫מלכם‬ (kings) from the first part, who are also mentioned four times. Note, by the way, how the word ‫( מלך‬king) refers to different groups in the first and last part of the text. In the first part, it refers to the hostile kings, in line with the military theme of the part; in the second part, the word refers to Kulamuwa’s predecessors.

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Repetition of themes The expression “in the hand of ” is an expression that we frequently came across in biblical stories.86 It seems as there is a parody on this topos here. After all: it is not the god who gives the enemies into Kulamuwa’s hands, but it is Kulamuwa himself who, having fallen into the hands of his enemies, destroys the hand of the enemy as if he is a fire. Intertextuality It is striking about the totality of the inscription that on the one hand, the text fits in neatly with the other texts we discussed (speaking in the first person singular, summing up great deeds, the curse formula at the end), but on the other hand the text possesses unique characteristics. For example, we do not find construction activities, we do find playfulness with language, humor and even a great deal of metaphors, which are lacking entirely with Mesha and Zakkur. Concerning construction activities, one could think that Kulamuwa did not book any large projects on his name. This is not true, however. In the inscription of Barrakib we can find that people still remember the palace built by Kulamuwa a century after his reign.87 A theme that is typical for these royal inscriptions is the legitimacy of the king. In the following text by Zakkur, this will be the most important theme, but Kulamuwa is trying to present himself as the child of a long dynasty on the one hand, and as someone who rises above the level of his predecessors on the other hand. Both on grounds of his birth and on grounds of his achievements, he regards himself as the right man at the right place. Metaphors In line 6, we come acros the metaphor of “consuming hand and beard like a fire”. Kulamuwa suggests that he should not be ridiculed, seeing as that this will mean playing with fire.

86 For example in 1 Kgs. 20:13, 28; 22:6, 12, 15; 2 Kgs. 3:10, 13, 18; 2 Kgs. 18:30, 33; 2 Kgs. 19:10. 87 KAI nr. 216, lines 15–18. Barrakib, apparently, was not enthusiastic about this palace, as he remarks: “It was not a beautiful house my fathers, the kings of Sam al, had; it was the house of Kulamuwa that belonged to them.”

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Line 8, “a young woman was given for a sheep and a young man for a garment”, gives us the impression that it was likely to be a proverb, but concrete indications are lacking. As a metaphor it would something like being sold very cheaply. We furthermore find metaphors in line 10 (“living like dogs”), line ten 10 (“I was tot hem like a father/mother/brother”—the best of the propagandistic traditions!) and in line 13 (“their soul was as the soul of an orphan towards it mother”). It is striking, by the way, that Kulamuwa draws on the register of father/mother/brother/child/ orphan so often. If we would deconstruct the text, we would start with this element: what is someone really saying, who is calling his father and brother “good-for-nothings” and who distrusts his sons to such an extent that he is threatening them on beforehand with curses, when he himself feigns to be “as a father” and “as a brother” to his subjects? O’Connor says it beautifully: “For those beyond the pale, paterfamilias Kilamuwa is a source of terror; to those within it, he is a fount of gentleness”,88 but given the Kulamuwa’s image of fatherhood, we can express valid doubt on the matter of Kulamuwa’s “gentleness” with respect to his subjects. Structure The structure of the text is fascinating and of an unheard-of beauty. The text is composed of four blocks, which have a concentric as well as a parallel structure. What is more: each block is connected to the three others through similarities on the level of sound, word or theme.

88

O’Connor, “The Rhetoric”, 24.

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X 1 I am Kulamuwa son of ayya

A

X’ 9

2 Gabbar was king over Y’dy B’a 10 but has done nothing 3 Bmh has done nothing my father ayya has done nothing 4 my brother Sha il has done B’b nothing and I Kulamuwa, the true 11 son, what I have done 5 my predecessors did not do B’ B’x 12 B’b’ 13 B’a’

Ba 5 Bb 6 B

Bc Bx Bc’ 7 Bb’ Ba’ 8

the house of my father in the midst of mighty kings each one stretched forth is hand to fight I was in the hand of the kings like a fire consuming the beard like a fire consuming the hand the king of the D. A’ was powerful but I engaged the king of Assyria A young woman for a sheep a young man for a garment

14

I, Kulamuwa, son of

ayya,

I ascended the throne of my father Before the former kings the Mushkabim were living as dogs But I, I was to some a father and to some I was a mother and to some I was a brother Whoever had never possessed a sheep, I made owner of a flock Whoever had never possessed an ox I made owner of a herd Whoever had never seen linen I clothed him with byssos I, I took the Mushkabim by the hand and the made their soul as the soul of an orphan toward its mother And whoever of my sons, who wil sit in my place, and damages this insription: may the Mushkabim not honour the Ba irim and may the Ba irim not honour the Mushkabim.

15

And whoever destroys this inscription: May Ba al Zemed, who belongs to Gabbar, strike his head

16

and may Ba al Hamon, who belongs to Bmh, and Rakib-El, the lord of the house, strike his head

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Making a schedule on the structure, we can see the following: A

sound: bl p l word: ----------king father, brother, predecessors

word: king father word: Gabbar, Bmh father/brother

| | | | | | | | | | | | |

word: hand sheep clothed I was sound: štj

>< word: hand sheep kleed I was sound: kt

word: king father

B

word: Gabbar Bmh sons

sound: B’ bl b l word: kings father, brother, predecessors word: ba al/owner Mushkabim | | | | | | | | | | | | | word: ba al/owner Mushkabim

sound: š(fire) mlkm (kings)---------theme: devastating hand

sound: r š (head) mškm (Mushkabim) theme: destroying head A’

The classification of the text is complicated by the fact that the writer attempted to use a thematic and a temporal structure, both at once. In the style of this genre of memorial inscriptions, the thematic structure has a greater importance than the temporal structure. We have seen, for example, that line 8 forms an anticipation on the improvement in the economic climate, while the remark on the Mushkabim in line 9–10 is a flash-back is. O’Connor divides the text into “foreign affairs” and “domestic politicy”.89

89 O’Connor, “The Rhetoric”, 24: “The overall structure of the text is elegant: the introduction (S1–11) balances the curse formula (S31–S35) and the description of

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O’Connor, however, does not have an answer to the riddle of line 9, because he thinks that Kulamuwa is introducing himself again here. We, on the other hand, chose to interpret this as an introduction of Kulamuwa’s inthronization. The thematic organization also creates a tight chronological-dynastic connection. Kulamuwa starts with his predecessors and with everything that happened before his kingship (this being “nothing”), after which he comes to the throne, and finally he ends his story with a reference to the future, when his sons will have taken up his position. It could even be imagined that Kulamuwa first fought in the name of his father when he was still the crown prince, then became king himself and watched as the economy improved. Or that he dethroned his brother.90 Or that his brother had to clear the field after a failed adventure against the Assyrians. All these latter considerations—co-regency and coup d’états—are purely speculative. What we are trying to argue is that we cannot rule out the option that Kulamuwa is narrating the events in a chronological order entirely, but that it is just as possile that two organizing principles are used simultaneously. The chronology of “predecessors-me-sons” and the themes “foreign/military policy—domestic/economic policy”. In this manner, the following structure arises:

A

A’

X introduction past: predecessors B foreign affairs/military activities X’ current situation: Kulamuwa on the throne B’ domestic affairs/economics future: successors

external affairs (S12–S19) counterposes the story of domestic policy (S20–S30). The first and last sections of the text are linked together by their references to the rulers of Ya diya: Gabbar is mentioned in S2 and S34, bmh in S4 and S35, and the members of Kilamuwa’s own dynasty, Haya’, S’l and Kilamuwa himself, (mentioned singly in S6, S8, S1, and S10) are alluded to jointly under the rubric of the dynasty in S35. The pointed contrast of the two sections is more obvious: the introduction refers to Kilamuwa’s predecessors and the curse formula to his successors.” The numbering of the lines is by O’Connor, but our arrangement of the text is similar. 90 Coup d’états apparently were part of the political culture in Sam’al. In KAI nr. 214, l. 20–34, Panammuwa I exhausts himself in summing up the most terrible diseases and disasters he wishes upon his sons if any of them would get in their heads to dethrone him. From KAI nr. 215 we get the impression that all of this did not help very much. The coup that is described there, strongly reminds us of Jehu’s coup, even including the detail of killing 70 family members.

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This structure places Kulamuwa’s rise to the throne (X’) exactly in the middle (after the three stripes). This event is the spindle, the turning point in the history of Sam al. This is accentuated by narrating Kulamuwa’s deeds exactly in the middle of the elements B–B’ as well (Bx and B’x). The elements A–A’ portray the incapacity of Kulamuwa’s predecessors, respectively the potential misdeeds of his successors. The complete name of the predecessors is mentioned again in A’, by naming their personal patron gods. The “lord of the house” (= the dynasty) Rakib-El literally has the last word and is charged with the task of keeping the dynasty on the right track. The elements B–B’ thematically portray the foreign political-military, respectively the domestic political-economic situation. These scenes have an elegant concentric structure. Kulamuwa stands in the middle. In B, powerful kings are trying to get him into their hands, but he destroys this hand. In scene B’, the motif word ‘hand’ is also used, but here it is used as a loving word: Kulamuwa takes the Mushkabim by the hand. As a father/mother/brother of the nation, he is once again central. Not as a threat for the enemy this time, but as a benefactor to his people. In this manner, two elegant movements arise within an exemplary version of a semiotic square: DANUNIANS prosperity for the crisis for the Danunians Danunians (r. 5–6) B (r. 8) PROSPERITY Kulamuwa CRISIS (r. 7/r. 11–12) prosperity for the B’ crisis for the Mushkabim Mushkabim (r. 13) (r. 10) MUSHKABIM The reflection is even taken up at the level of the motif words. The motif word ‘hand’ is used in B in the middle, and in B’ at the edge. The motif words ‘sheep’ and ‘garment’ are used at the edge in B, in the middle in B’ (as an aside, ‘garment’, ‫סות‬, and ‘clothed’, ‫ כסה‬are based on two different stems in the text. The connection is thematic rather than strictly verbal). B starts with ‘father’, B’ ends with ‘mother’.

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Grammatical characteristics We already saw that Kulamuwa mainly discusses the status quo rather than deeds in 3.2.2. This is reflected in the grammar. We only find perfecta, almost no imperfecta. The only imperfecta in line 14 have a futurum-meaning. Compare this use of grammar to Mesha’s text, in which the perfecta describe the (results of ) construction activities, while the imperfectum consecutivum was used for acts of war. The turn of phrase ‫( שׁכר אנך‬line 7) is a construction that we also find in a number of Northwest Semitic texts, and even frequently in Ugaritic. In Ugaritic, it is generally understood as a perfectum third person singular with the personal pronoun ‘I’, the combination of which should be regarded as a normal perfectum. Sometimes it is also interpreted as an infinitivus absolutus. According to Gibson, this construction points at an oral background, and/or the influence of epic use of languages on official court literature thanks to bards and minstrels.91 It is also striking that both the Phoenician word for son (‫ )בן‬is used as the Aramaic word (‫)בר‬. A potential arameism is furthermore the use of the ‘question word’ ‫ מי‬as relative pronoun.92 In combination with what is possible an akkadism ‘‫’חזה פן‬, the text creates the impression that it was conceived at the crossroads of cultures: de Phoenician, the Aramaic and the Assyrian culture.93 The inscriptions that were the legacy of the successors Panammuwa I and II and Barrakib a couple of decennia later were already written in Aramaic. 3.2.5. The theology/ideology of the text Focalization of the king Kulamuwa gave himself a rather difficult assignment (as did Mesha). On the one hand, he wants to present himself as rightful heir within this long dynasty (a dynasty that goes back as much as three generations), on the other hand he wants to present his own period of reign as widely different to his predecessors in the form of a claire-obscure-picture. This contradiction is visible throughout this text. 91

Gibson, Textbook III, 37. Sperling, “KAI 24”, 335: “A learned scribe whose native language was Aramaic expanded the semantic range of Phoenician my to conform to the general relative pronominal use of Aramaic mn.” 93 Sperling, “KAI 24”, 323: “The method employed in the present paper is based on the well-known facts that two dialects of Aramaic were spoken at ancient Zenjirli and that political alliance with Assyria had linguistic impact.” 92

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– – – – – –

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Respectively, Kulamuwa focalizes himself as: rightful heir within the dynasty (l. 1) a king of strength after a series of royal fainéant rulers (r. 2–5) a king who was too powerful for powerful kings (l. 5–7) a king who ‘hires’ the king of Assyria (l. 7/8) a father/mother/brother of nation (l. 10/11) a king who brings prosperity to his people (l. 11/12).

Valuation of the war The war does not play a very large role in this text, but neither does it play a very positive role. The battle is defensive: Sam al is being attacked (l. 6). Kulamuwa moreover seems to be proud that he apparently made the king of Ashur work for him. All in all, Kulamuwa is interested not in the battle as a heroic deed but in the result of battle: prosperity for the Mushkabim. Effect of the valuation of the war on the valuation of the king Seeing as that war does not play a very large role in the story, the effect on the image of Kulamuwa is not so large either. Kulamuwa boasts that he ended the repression by ‘powerful kings’, especially by the ‘Danunians’. This can be regarded as particularly deviant from other Ancient Near Eastern war texts. We can suppose that Kulamuwa probably did not carry out any heroic deeds at all and that the intention of this text was to hide this fact behind the veil of increased prosperity. Focalization of the gods The gods hardly play a role at all in the text, especially not in the battle. Ba al Zemed, Ba al Hammon and Rakib-El are only mentioned in the curse formulas. Can the gods solve that which Kulamuwa cannot do himself: looking out for his fame, when he is no longer there? One gets the impression that these gods are the keepers of the dynasty, because they are so explicitly mentioned in relation to Kulamuwa’s forefathers. A national divinity is lacking.94 Outside of the context of the text, we find the symbols of four gods, by contrast. We said that these symbols create the suggestion that Kulamuwa would like to see himself as vicarius deorum, a king acting on

94

See K. Euler, “Königtum und Götterwelt”.

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behalf of the gods. Perhaps, as a king who wished to unite the Westand East-Semitic gods.95 Relationship between divine and human activities This text does not give us the impression that Kulamuwa assigned much power to the gods in a battle. Could this have something to do with the fact that Kulamuwa had to make himself a vassal of Ashur? After all, we saw two types of wars in Mesha’s inscription, each with a different type of divine involvement. On the one hand we found a defensive war, in which the god’s support is presupposed and in which the god fights for the king (for example by means of a miracle), on the other hand we have an offensive war, in which the god gives the assignment to the king and in which the king conquers a city or an area for his god. The fact that no mention is made of divine involvement in this text, may have something to do with the fact that Kulamuwa did not fight, nor was he liberated from the Danunians in a very impressive or miraculous way. Calling upon Assyria, thereby implicitly confirming his status of vassal, was not an action that was regarded as particularly honorable. We know from the bible book Jeremiah that such a choice was regarded as not-defending the nation. It is not without reason that Kulamuwa refers to Assyrian gods,96 such as Hadad, and the god of the dynasty rather than to the national god, if such a god even existed.97 Theology/ideology of the text O’Connor calls the inscription an “antique flyer [. . .] designed to persuade some 1st millennium B.C.E. southern Anatolians of a small

95 Peckham makes a similar observation. The king seems more important than the divinity: “Similar exalted notions of kingship are evident in the inscriptions of Kilamuwa of Zinjirli and Azitawadda of Adana. The king is a father and a mother to his people as Yahweh is to Israel. The king satisfies his people’s need for food and clothing, assures their boundaries and gives them peace, and is the source of the benefits that the Old Testament ascribes to Yahweh.” See his contribution in: J.C. Greenfield in P.D. Miller e.a. (eds), Ancient Israelite Religion (Essays in Honour of F.M. Cross), Philadelphia 1985, 82. 96 Perhaps we should recall the role assigned to honouring the ‘host of heaven’ in the book 2 Kings as a cult that conveys a pro-Assyrian attitude. See for example 2 Kgs 21:3. 97 This is at least the impression we get from KAI nr. 215, l. 23. In this inscription by Barrakib, he speaks about “Hadad, El, Rakib-El, the lord of the house, Shamash en all the gods of Y dy.”

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number of statements which are probably simply false.”98 It is true that one gets the impression that Kulamuwa has more things he wants to hide than things he wants to tell. He has obtained a victory that is not is own. He cannot boast about it, nor be grateful to his gods. He was simply kneeling for the Assyrians. There is great tension between himself and his own dynasty. Did he cease power with help from the minority group Mushkabim? The Kulamuwa inscription seems to serve but one goal: glorification of the “braggadocio”/braggart Kulamuwa. We have not been able to discern a rich spectrum of ideological context. It is obvious that Kulamuwa thinks that a good king should be powerful in his foreign policies and should be someone who ensures prosperity in his internal policies. As a pater familias, a godfather: tough on the outside world, soft on insiders. It is remarkable with respect to other texts that construction plays no role and fighting plays a rather small role. Prosperity matters most. A pragmatic ideology suits an opportunistic regent. Apparently, Kulamuwa’s greatest talent was to assemble the right individuals in his environment, among which—luckily for us—an excellent writer. 3.3. The Zakkur inscription 3.3.1. Introduction to the Zakkur Inscription Translation Text edition: – KAI, bd I, 37 (nr. 202) – SSI, vol. 2, 6–1 Translations: – KAI, bd II, 204–205 – SSI, vol. 2, 6–17 – W. Beyerlin, Religionsgeschichtliches Textbuch zum Alten Testaments (ATD Ergänzungs-reihe 1), Göttingen 1975, 247–250 – ANET, 501–502 – TUAT, bd I, 626–628

98

O’Conner, “The Rhetoric”, 18.

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A = obverse (1) The [st]ela which Zakkur,99 king of Hamath and Lu ash,100 set up for Ilu-Wer [. . .]101 (2) I am Zakkur, king of Hamath and Lu ash. I was a humble man,102 but (3) Ba lshamayin [called ]103 [m]e and stood beside me and Ba lshama[yin] made me king [over] (4) Hazrach. Bar-Hadad, son of Hazael, king of Aram, united against me s[even-]104 (5) teen kings: 99 For the interpretation of the name, see: A.R. Millard, “Epigraphic notes, Aramaic and Hebrew”, PEQ 110 (1978), 23–26, especially p. 23. 100 Mostly identified as the city/state Nu ašše, which is also mentioned in the Amarna letters. Hamath should probably be read as the area around Hamath (what is now Hama) in this inscription and Lu ash as the area around this city, which was situated North of Hamath and South of Aleppo. Apparently, Hazrach/ azrak (which is called atarikka elsewhere) was the main city in this area. The location of this city is unknown, but it is thought that it was near Afis (which is mentioned in line B 11), about 40 kilometres South-West of Aleppo. It is supposed that it is the same city as the biblical city of Hazrach, which is mentioned once in Zech. 9:1. 101 KAI adds ‫‘( מראה‬his lord’). Beyerling states that ‘his lord’ was always placed before names in ancient Aramaic inscriptions and he would therefore rather translate it with something like ‘his god’. See Religionsgeschichtliches Textbuch, 248 note 6. 102 This is the crux interpretum that has been discussed most: ‫אשׁ ענה אנה‬. One has previously regarded ‫ אשׁ‬as a relative pronoun and ‫ ענה‬as a form of the verb ‘to answer’. This translation is now generally rejected because the relative pronoun that would be used in ancient Aramaic is ‫זי‬. J.F. Ross, “Prophecy in Hamath, Israel and Mari”, HTR 63 (1970), 1–28 comes up with a theory entirely of his own. He states that one would expect ‫ עני‬or ‫ ענו‬for the word ‘modest’. He believes that Zakkur is a Hanean and translates this with ‘a man from Hana’. Hana was an area around Mari. Kings such as Zimri-Lim and Ja dun-Lim call themselves “king of Mari and of the land of Hana”. In his opinion, this would explain why Ilu-Wer is mentioned, who can be identified as Wer or Mer, a god who is mostly worshipped in Mari. The origin of the name of the god would also explain the remarkable position of the prophecy in this text. Ross thinks that Zakkur came from Mesopotamia and became king with Assyrian support. He admits that it takes many steps to arrive at this interpretation. It does not seem probable to me that someone who wishes to emphasize his election as king starts by admitting that he is in reality a foreigner. I will go with the interpretation ‘I was a humble man’, with which Zakkur is probably referring to his piety. It is also conceivable that Zakkur is referring to his descent, but in that case, this text would be exceptional in the Ancient Near Eastern context for having a king who is proud of being of humble descent. 103 In his lacuna often ‫חצל‬, ‘to save’, or ‫קרא‬, ‘to call’ is added. 104 Very different things have been added in the lacuna in line 4. This is related to the fact that line 8 also has a lacuna. The ‫שׁ‬, which can be found in line 4, can form the beginning of either the words three, six, seven, or eight. On grounds of the length of the lacuna, most scholars opt for ‫( שׁבע‬seven). Gibson, however, states that there must have been enough space for the names of two kings in line 8 and adds ‫אחרן‬

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Bar-Hadad and his army, Bar-Gush and his army the [ki-] (6)ng of Que and his army the king of Amuq and his army the king of Gurg[um] (7) and his ar[my] the king of Sam’al and his army the king of Meliz [and his] ar[my] (8) [. . .] seven[teen] (9) [t]hey and their armies. All these kings laid siege to Hazrach. (10) They built a wall higher than the wall of Hazrach and they dug a ditch deeper than [its] ditch. (11) Then I raise105 my hands to Ba lsha[may]in and he answers me, Ba lshamay[in, and he,] (12) Ba lshamayin, [speaks] to me through106 seers and messengers107 [and (13) Ba lshamayin (12)[says] (13) [to me]: Fear not, For I have made [you king and I] (14) [stand] beside you and I will save you from all [these kings who] (15) have besieged you. [Ba lshamayin] says to me: [I will destroy] (16) all these kings who [have besieged you] (17) [. . .] and this wall [. . .] B = reverse (1) [. . .]Hazrach [. . .] (2) [. . .] with chariot [and] horse

(‘others’) to line 8 instead of ‫‘( מלכן‬kings’) or ‫‘( עשׂר‬ten’) and in this manner finds a total of sixteen kings: nine whose names are mentioned and seven ‘others’. KAI reads the following into line 8–9 “siebe [n Könige, s]ie und ihre Heere”, while Beyerlin, like TUAT, chooses “sie[bzehn waren s]ie und ihre Heere”. 105 For an explanation of the choice for the present tense, see paragraph 3.3.4. 106 Literally: “from the hand of ”. 107 ‫ עדדן‬was frequently seen as related to the Arabic adda, ‘to count’. Because of the parallelism with ‫( חזין‬seers), one arrives at the translation ‘astrologers’, ‘fortune-tellers’. Nowadays, scholars tend to refer to the Ugaritic dd ‘to proclame’ and to the Hebrew ‫עוד‬, which means ‘to warn’ in the hif ’il. Ross, “Prophecy”, 4–5, pointed at this and pleads for translating it with ‘messengers, diplomats’.

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(3) [. . .] its king within it. I (4) [ buil]t Hazrach and ad- (5) [ded] all the surroundings (6) [. . .] and I made her qu[een]108 (7) of all her [. . . I have built] (8) these fortresses in the vicinity. (9) [ I ] have built shrines for the gods in my whole [country] (10) I have built [. . .] (11) [. . .] Afis and [. . .] (12) [. . .] the house [. . .] (13) [. . .] I set up for [ Ilu-] (14) [Wer] this stela and I have wr[it](15)[ten] on it the deeds of my hands [. . .] (16) [. . . Who]ever removes from this stele the deeds (17) [of the hands] of Zakkur, king of Hama[th and Lu-](18) ash, or who[ever] (19) [des]troys this stela from 20 [ befo]re Ilu-Wer or takes it away [from] (20) its [pl]ace or whoever raises (21) [his hand . . .] (22) against [it] (23) [. . . Ba l]shamayn and Ilu- (24)Wer . . .] and Shamash en Shahar (25) [. . .] and the gods of heav[en] (26) [and the god ]s of earth and Ba l[. . .] (27) [. . .] (28) [. . .] his roo[ts. . .] C (right side) (1) [. . .] (2) [May endure for ever] the name of Zakkur and the name of [. . .] On the state of the material The text is written on a stela, which was found in Afis in 1903, about 45 kilometers Southwest of Aleppo. The city Afis is also mentioned in the text. The stela is broken in four pieces. In total, its height is about two meters high and its bredth is 30 centimeter. On front A there must have been a picture of a human-like figure, probably Ilu-Wer, to whom the stela is dedicated. The language of the text is ancient Aramaic. Seventeen lines are written on the bottom part on the front of the stela (A), 28 lines on the 108 I am following Beyerlin here, who also adds the following in line 8: “König[in] ihrer [ Tochterstädte]”. KAI and TUAT choose to leave it open. Gibson, SSI II, 10–11, thinks it is a parallelism: ‫שׂמתה מלכתי שׂמתה ארקי‬, “I established it (once more) as my kingdom, and established it as [my land ]”.

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left side (B) and two on the right side (C). The text is dated to about 785 B.C., although Gibson finds this to be 775.109 Historical background Generally, it is assumed that Zakkur was an usurper. Some deduce this from the fact that he calls himself ‘humble’ (A2). Even if one interprets this word differently (‘pious’ or ‘Hanean’), this piece of information can still be derived with reasonable certainty from the fact that Zakkur does not report that he is of royal descent. It is not without reason that a usurper is called a mār lā mammana in Akkadian, a ‘son of nobody’. Even on these grounds alone, it is to be expected that the legitimacy of Zakkur’s kingship will be an important theme in this text.110 It is not clear how Zakkur rose to power and stayed in power. Nor do we learn what role is played by Assyria, especially Adad-Nirari III (810–783). It is a fact that Hamath formed a part of the anti-Assyrian coalition at Qarqar in 853 B.C. during the reign of Zakkurs predecessor Ir uleni. According to Ross,111 Zakkur was put on the throne by Assyria so that Assyria would have an ally in the heart of the antiAssyrian coalition. Beyerlin112 also thinks that the miraculous rescue by Ba lshamayin was in fact Adad-Nirari III’s doing. This king held a campaign to Northern Syria in the year 796.113 Proof in support of this interpretation consists of the fact that a border stela was found in Syria, on which AdadNirari III determines the border between the area of king Atar-Shumki of Arpad and Zakkur of Hamath.114 On the other hand, we got the impression during our study of the Kulamuwa Inscription that such a scenario was surrounded with some shame and in any case, it would be difficult to connect it to divine intervention. Veenhof believes that the coalition that is mentioned in the inscriptions also had as its goal to force Zakkur to participate in the battle

109 Klengel, Syria, 211: “The pertinent proposals oscillate between the last decade of the 9th century and about 773 B.C.” 110 Euler, “Königtum und Götterwelt”, elaborately discusses the issues surrounding the legitimacy, usurpation and succession to the throne in the Aramic inscriptions from the ninth and eighth century. 111 Ross, “Prophecy”. Also see the note that goes with the translation of A2. 112 Beyerlin, Religionsgeschichtliches Textbuch, 247. 113 See Klengel, Syria, 210–211. W.T. Pitard, Ancient Damascus, 160–167. Veenhof, Geschichte, 241–242. 114 Millard, “Epigraphic notes”, 23.

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against Assyria.115 It remains strange that a number of Northern states are part of the coalition, such as Gurgum, Melid and Sam al—these are all countries that were not represented during the battle at Qaraar, but which immediately subjected themselves to Assyria. The coalition at the time of Qarqar consisted of a number of small Southern states. Gibson116 has yet another interpretation. According to him the inscription (l. A3–4) tells us that Zakkurs conquest of Lu ash was the circumstance that prompted the formation of the alliance against Zakkur and the besiegement of Hazrach, the capital of Lu ash. Zakkur’s ambitions were a threat to the balance of powers. There are no indications, in his view, to suppose that Zakkur owes his position to the intervention by the Assyrians. It is however, probably true that Zakkur took his chance to fight after the Assyrian armies had already destroyed Damascus during a campaign in 802, after which they were needed on a mission closer to home and retreated. Something similar seemed to have happened in Israel: in 2 Kings 13:25 and 14:25 (where Hamath is mentioned), we read that Joash and Jeroboam II also made use of the weakened position of Damascus. Arguments in favour of this interpretation are that Zakkur tells that Ba lshamayin made him king over Hazrach in lines A3–4. This indeed suggests that the battle was over Hazrach/Lu ash and that Zakkur had the intitiative. The coalition in this scenario is reacting to an usurper who had previously taken power in his own country, and who is moreover enlarging his territory (compare to line B5 on the matter of adding territory to Hazrach). In short, I see many strong points in Gibson’s interpretation. Either way, it is clear that the undecided battle at Qarqar was the beginning of a period of political instability at the end of the ninth and the beginning of the eighth century: royal houses swayed (Ir uleni, Omri/Ahab) and the map was constantly changing (Mesha, Joash en Jeroboam II, Zakkur). Genre The Zakkur Inscription is a mix of two of the genres that are found most frequently among the royal inscriptions: the dedicatory and the memorial inscriptions.117 The first genre starts with identification of 115

Veenhof, Geschichte, 241. Gibson, SSI II, 6. 117 See paragraph 3.1.1. on distinguishing the two genres. Also see: Miller, “The Moabite Stone”, 12: “In short, Zakir ‘killed two birds with one stone’. He dedicated the stela to the gods because of the support which they had given him in the past and used it to convey his request for further blessings. But he also intended the statue 116

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the object that is to be dedicated (“The stela that . . .”) and only after this is the king mentioned, frequently in the third person singular. It is characteristic of the second genre that the first person singular is used straight from the start (“I am . . .”) and determines the tone of the text. In the Zakkur inscription we see the two first lines in line A1 and A2, respectively: “The [st]ele which Zakkur,118 king of Hamath and Lu ash, set up for Ilu-Wer [ I ] am Zakkur, king of Hamath and Lu ash.”119 3.3.2. The level of the event Classification of the events We can see the well-known Ancient Near Eastern themes of ‘fighting’ and ‘building’ return in the inscription of Zakkur. We also came across these themes with Mesha and we will come across them more often. It is a pity that the ending of part B is so incomplete. Of all passages, this passage, which was most likely the climax of the story, is lacking. On the basis of l. 15 ([‫)ויאמר ל]י בעלשׁמין‬, one would get the impression that what follows is still part of the salvation oracle. On the other hand, it is hard to imagine that it would not have been mentioned if the oracle had come true. We think that what was told in this lacuna is that Hazrach was rescued.

exposition phase

A

a. self presentation b. divine election c. occasion of the text d. previous kings e. summary of the story

2–4 2 1

to serve as a memorial to himself, inscribed on it a record of his mighty deeds, and attempted to insure that this record would not be removed in years to come. These two motifs—dedication to the gods, memorial to the king—are often combined in the Assyrian inscriptions.” 118 For the interpretation of the name, see: A.R. Millard, “Epigraphic notes, Aramaic and Hebrew”, PEQ 110 (1978), 23–26, especially p. 23. 119 See Drinkard, “The literary genre”, who discusses the Zakkur inscription on the pages 149–152. Compare Müller, “König Mêša ”, 374–375, who perceives a development here: “Wie viele assyrische Weihinschriften seit Adadnerari I weitet sich dabei auch die Mêša -Inschrift zu einer ausführlichen Berichterstattung über politisch-militärische Taten des Herrschers aus, was auch der Grund für die Verdrängung der Votivformel ist, mit der etwa noch die Zakkur-Inschrift anfängt.”

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4–10 11 12–17

climax

B

a. battle b. divine intervention c. support by third parties

1–3? 1–3?

denouement a. increase in prosperity b. construction activities c. religious measures d. annexation e. deportation

7–15 4–6

Conclusion/sanction a. curse b. blessing

16–28 C1–2

Improvement/turn for the worse The events without doubt entail an improvement in Zakkur’s situation. This improvement can even be regarded as the theme of the text: the wondrous rescue from the hand of seventeen kings proves that it is Ba lshamayin who called Zakkur to be the king. Actors The actantial scheme is as follows. We shall call Ba lshamayin the subject; because this is what the narrator wants us to believe. Even if we would call Zakkur the subject, the narrator or Zakkur himself want to have us believe that Ba lshamayin holds history in his hand. It is Ba lshamayin who calls the king, gives the signal to fight and who liberates. Barhadad sets the story in motion by assembling seventeen kings against Hazrach. This will have had something to do with the pattern that we already saw with Mesha: a war is only justified if it is a defensive war, or if it is carried out at the command of a god.120

120

See 3.1.5.

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According to Zakkur, in the face of these kings, this wall and this ditch—which are superior in military respect to his own defence lines— all he can do is offer his prayer (“then I raise my hands”). But this is sufficient, which shows that Ba lshamayin is without doubt the destinateur. Zakkur proves two things, in his own opinion: he is indeed a pious/ humble man who leaves everything to his god, and he definitely has Ba lshamayin to thank for his kingship.

Ba lshamayin

kingship over Hazrach

Zakkur

Zakkur’s prayer to Ba lshamayin, seers and messengers

Ba lshamayin

seventeen kings, wall and ditch

In the second part, which only speaks of the construction activities of Zakkur, the actantial scheme is very simple:

Ba lshamayin and other gods

continuation of the name of Zakkur

Zakkur

Zakkur

Time There are no indications of time in the story. Place The only place that plays any role at all is Hazrach. This is the city of which Zakkur becomes king (l. A4), this city is besieged (l. A9–10), and this city is constructed (l. B4) and made capital of the area (l. B6). The only other city that is mentioned is Afis. 3.3.3. The level of the story Interventions in the order of time Seeing as that there are no indications of time in the story, we cannot find out whether there are interventions in the order of time. What is

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more, the text is rather damaged. One would get the impression that the entire story is neatly placed in a chronological order: first comes the election of the king (“and Ba lshamayin made me king over Hazrach”), then comes the attack on Barhadad c.s., the liberation, and the conclusion of all that had been said in the summary, i.e. that Zakkur became king in Hazrach, and what he did for the city in the construction field. Based on comparable texts, however, we know that this chronological impression does not have to be correct (for example see 3.1.3. on Mesha). The construction activities may very well pertain a period of the kingship that proceeds the battle. There seems to be a literary code or a theological principle that underlies this literary structure, rather than a chronological principle. The literary code would then be as follows: first the military, and then the construction activities. The theological starting point would be: first the divine, and then the human activities—for the battle was reserved for the god and building was reserved for the king. On the other hand, we cannot rule out the idea that this text does have a chronological order, seeing as that the entire text is situated in and around the city Hazrach. The ‘building’ of Hazrach could then be translated with ‘rebuilding’.121 Tempo The tempo of the story is as follows: A1 A 2–A10 A11–A15 A16–B 3 B 4–B15 B16–C 2

not applicable: title summary scene summary or scene (?) summary not applicable: curse formulas

The overview of the tempo confirms our impression that the salvation oracle of Ba lshamayin is the centre of this text. From a narratological point of view, the curse formulas are difficult to qualify. The narrator actually steps out of the story (the past) in order to warn the reader at

121 Says Gibson, SSI II, 11: ‘I rebuilt Hazrach . . . Then I rebuilt Afis’. Zobel even assumes that the construction activities are carried out as an expression of thanks to Ba lshamayn. I cannot see why this should be the case. See H.-J. Zobel, “Das Gebet um Abwendung der Not und seine Erhörung in den Klageliedern des Alten Testaments und in der Inschrift des König Zakir von Hamath”, VT 21 (1971), 91–99, especially p. 96.

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this moment (the present) for a potential disaster (the future) that he will cause if he will destroy the inscription. Like with the inscription, these formulas apply to the context outside of the story, although they continue to form a part of the text. For this reason, they are somewhat, but not entirely, comparable to respectively the title and the prohibition to copy in present-day books. The conditions of the prohibition in present-day books in reality are also outside of the story. Here, in the colophon, a reference is made to one of the characters in the story, i.e. to Ba lshamayin, in order to add power to the prohibition. Distribution of representational time Once again counting the representational time in lines will give us the following information: exposition phase a. self representation b. divine election c. occasion of text d. previous kings e. summary of the story

3 lines

complication phase a. agression from the outside b. call for an oracle c. oracle

14 lines

climax a. battle b. divine intervention c. support by third parties

3 lines (?)

dénouement a. increase in prosperity b. construction activities c. religious measures d. annexation e. deportation

12 lines

conclusion/sanction a. curse b. blessing

15 lines

1½ lines ½ line 1 line – –

7 lines 1 line 6 lines (?)

3 lines (?) 3 lines (?) –

– 9 lines – 3 lines –

13 lines 2 lines

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We should note about this scheme that the lines on side B were much shorter than the lines on side A. In fact, the military part is quite a bit longer than the construction part. What is striking is the relatively large amount of attention for the complication phase. This, combined with the prevalence of seers and messengers, evokes an atmosphere that reminds us of the war stories of the Old Testament. On the basis of the inscriptions of Mesha and Kulamuwa, we can suppose that the climax will consist of an intervention by Ba lshamayin. We suspect this on grounds of the fact that this intervention would be proof for the divine election of Zakkur ánd on grounds of the fact that Ba lshamayin gave the command to go to battle. Focalizations There are no more than two focalizators and both are internal. From A11 to B3, the salvation oracle, Ba lshamayin is the focalizator. In the rest of the story, Zakkur is the focalizator. There are no external focalizators. In other words: it is an first-person narrative. Although the special thing about this story is that seers and messengers of the deity (prophets?) appear in it, we notice that these prophetic figures are not focalizators. In other words: although the appearance of seers in the story reminds us of the atmosphere of the war stories of the Old Testament to some extent, the role they play in the story is rather different. In this story, they literally and figuratively form a medium, and not more than that: the revelation takes place through them, “by the hand of ” them, but they do not become a real character. Effects of focalizations The effects of the focalizations are legitimizing. Zakkur wants to convince the reader that he is a legitimate king ‘by the grace of Ba lshamayin’, even though he is not royally descended. The text was constructed in such a way that there is no doubt about the unambiguous support by the gods, especially not about Ba lshamayin’s support to Zakkur. First of all, Zakkur informs us that he is pious and/or humble and that Ba lshamayin (because of this and/or despite this) has called him to the high function of king. He goes on to tell us how a large coalition of seventeen kings assembled against him. Seeing the common Ancient Near Eastern ideology, in which the god fought for the king, there could not have been a clearer signal of divine election than a military-sounding victory.

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A striking element in this story, which supports the suggestion that Zakkur is pious, is the fact that Zakkur raises his hands to, and/or prays to Ba lshamayin instead of undertaking military action. This prayer does not remain unanswered, because we hear from the mouth of seers that Ba lshamayin promises to liberate Zakkur. It is not witout reason that Ba lshamayin literally uses the same words as Zakkur in the lines A2–3: ‘to stand beside’ (‫)קם עם‬, ‘to make king’ (‫)המלך‬. Zakkur’s own focalization corresponds to Ba lshamayin’s focalization. Lastly, Zakkur constructs Hazrach: fortresses and temples for the gods, thinking he can also count on their support in the future. All of this has the final goal that the name of this usurper “may endure forever”. An aspiration he has managed to carry out well and an aspiration that scholars are—intentionally or not—still helping to realize three millennia later. 3.3.4. The level of the text Repetition of sounds/play with sounds We have not found repetition of sounds in the text. Repetition of words ‫נצב‬

‫מלך‬

A1–4 A4–B3

A1

A1,2,4 A3 A5,6,6,6 A13 7,7,(8),9 14,16, 17

B3–15

B14

B16–C2

B18,19

stela

king

‫מלך‬

‫מחנה‬

to make army king

‫שׂם‬

to place

A1 A5,5,6, A9 7,7,7,9 B13

‫קם‬

‫מצר‬

A14

A9,15, 16

to stand wall beside

‫בנה‬

‫בית‬

to build house/ temple

B(4), B9,12 (7),9,10

The theme of the various scenes in the text is underlined by the distribution of motif words. In the part about the battle, we find the words ‘king’, ‘to make king’, ‘army’, ‘wall’ and ‘to stand beside’. In the part about construction, we find ‘to build’ and ‘house’. The totality of the

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text is framed by the motif word ‘stela’, which returns in the inscription and the curse formula. We can find play with words in the lines A2 and A11: ‘I was a humble man’ ‘Ba lshamayin answered me’

– –

‫אשׁ ענה אנה‬ ‫ויענני בעלשׁמין‬

This play with words forms a concise summary of the entire ideology of this text: Zakkur was a pious man, whose prayer was therefore heard by Ba lshamayin. Another play with words is the game with ‘king’ and ‘to make king’. Zakkur is ‘made king’ twice; this stands in contrast to the seventeen ‘kings’, seven of which are summed up with their armies as some sort of refrain. This game is most pointedly expressed in the lines A13–14: ‘Fear not, For I have made you king and I stand beside you and I will save you from all these kings

‫אל תזחל‬ ‫כי אנה המלכתך‬ ‫ואנה אקם עמך‬ ‫ואנה אחצלך מן כל מלכים‬

We can also perceive a game with words in the words ‫( זחל‬to fear) and ‫( חצל‬to liberate). The repetition of the word ‘king’ evokes the most important tension in the story: will this usurper Zakkur, who has all odds against him in principle, be able to sustain his legitimacy vis-à-vis seventeen kings who undoubtedly have a much longer dynasty and tradition and more experience? The theme of legitimacy and divine support are also expressed in the lines A3 en 13: A3

but Ba lshamayin stood beside me and Ba lshamayin made me king

A13

For I have made you king and I stand beside you

‫בעלשׁמין קם עמי‬ ‫המלכני בעלשׁמין‬ ‫אנה המלכתך‬ ‫ואנה אקם עמך‬

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Especially the chiastic order and the grammar are meaningful here. In line 3, we have to do with perfecta. These are singular events. Ba lshamayin has stood by Zakkur and that was proof for the legitimacy of his kingship. But once his kingship has been established, he will forever be able to count on Ba lshamayin’s support. In l. 13, ‘to stand beside’ therefore occurs in an imperfectum form and is placed after ‘to make king’.122 Not a play with words, but we can find a figura etymologica in B9: ‫בניתי‬

‫‘—בתי‬I built houses’.

Repetition of themes As was mentioned before, the legitimacy of Zakkur’s kingship is an important motif in this text. We can find support for this in the only ‘theme’ (if this word is not too a big to use here) that is really repeated at all, namely the theme of ‘making king’. Both in the Zakkur’s as in Ba lshamayin’s focalization, we hear that Ba lshamayin made Zakkur king (A3 and A13). Perhaps this theme was also what induced the decision of the part on battle in B3, but we cannot say this with certainty. Intertextuality In the case that we, once again, do not regard intertextuality only as touching upon concrete other texts, but also as evoking associations with other texts or genres, then the articles of Tawil123 and Ross124 are rich sources to find forms of intertextuality in the Zakkur inscription. Tawil sums up parallels for the two ‘literary elements’ in the text, i.e. the piety of the king and the election of the king. He states: “Thus, in the opening section of many royal inscriptions from the ancient Babylonian period onwards we observe that the king ascribes to himself the following attributes: na du ‘obedient’, kanšu/( anšu- aššu) ‘submissive’, ša u ‘pious’, muštēmiqu ‘suppliant’, pāli u ‘reverent’, pāli ili ‘reverer of god’, šēmû ‘obedient’, šēmî ili ‘obedient to the god(s)’, ardu/(rēšu) ‘worshipper (lit: slave)’, mutnennû ‘continuously prayerful’ ”.125 Closer to the

122

I derive this observation on: Euler, “Königtum und Götterwelt, 293. H. Tawil, “Some literary elements in the opening sections of the Hadad, Zakir and the Nerab II inscriptions” Or ns 43 (1974), 40–65, i.h.b. 51–57. 124 J.F. Ross, “Prophecy in Hamath, Israel and Mari”, HTR 63 (1970), 1–28. 125 Tawil, “Some literary elements”, 53. 123

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world of Zakkur, we find Panammuwa II, who praises the justness of his father and of Azitawadda, who calls himself “servant of Ba al”.126 In other words: by posing as ‘pious’, Zakkur evokes the atmosphere of the royal inscriptions and the word increasingly sounds less and less humble.127 This divine election is also a theme that is glorified in many royal inscriptions. For example, Esarhaddon says of himself: “rē ûm kēnu [. . .] ša ultu e erišu Aššur Šamaš [. . .] ana šarrūti māt Aššur ibbû zikiršu”128—“the reliable shepherd, whom Ashur and Shamash since his childhood have called to exert kingship over Assyria”. Note, says Tawil, the common elements: a. piety/trustworthiness of the king, b. the verb ‘to call’ and c. kingship. Excurs: summary of parts of J.F. Ross, “Prophecy in Hamath, Israel and Mari. Ross, like Tawil, concludes that in multiple ways the beginning of the inscription is typical for the Northwestern Semitic inscriptions of the beginning of the ninth and eighth century. He sums up: – Zakkur starts by introducing himself (compare to Kulamuwa, Azitawadda, Mesha, Melqart, Hadad and Barrakib).129 – He goes on to claim that Ba lshamayin stood by him (compare to Azitawadda, Melqart, Hadad, Barrakib).130 – He then names the direct occasion of writing the text: the coalition of North-Syrian and Anatolian kings that have been assembled against him at Barhadad (compare to Kulamuwa, Azitawadda, Mesha, Panammuwa).131 Zakkur proceeds to call on Ba lshamayin. This prayer by Zakkur and the answer by the god have almost no parallel in other material. It may

126

Resp. KAI 215, l. 1–2 and KAI 26, l. A1. In the Wilhelmus, the Dutch national hymn, there is a line in which William of Orange says: ‘May I stay pious, always Your servant’. Psychologically it may be very logical that someone whose legitimacy is questioned, makes an appeal to a higher—i.e. divine—authority. 128 Tawil, “Some literary elements”, 57. 129 Resp. KAI 24, l. 1 en 9; KAI 26, l. A1; KAI 181, l. 1–3; KAI 201, l. 1–3; KAI 214, l. 1; KAI 216, l. 1–3. 130 Resp. KAI 26, l. 1–3; KAI 201, l. 4; KAI 214, l 8; KAI 216, l.4–7. 131 Resp. KAI 24, l. 5–8; KAI 26, l. 13–18; KAI 181, l. 4–21; KAI 215, 2–5. 127

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be true that Barhadad claims that Melqart “hears his voice”,132 and Je awmilk “calls his goddess, Lady Gebal, and she hears his voice”,133 but nor the exact content of the prayer nor the circumstances nor the exact answer are known here. This makes the Zakkur inscription all the more interesting. The most direct parallels with the relevant passage (A11–17) can be found in the Old Testament: 1. the lifting of hands during a prayer can also be found in Akkadic sources (nīš qāti is even a genre indication for a certain type of prayer) but it is also a typical biblical form of prayer. 2. “Ba lshamayin answered me”—we also come across this phrase in Ancient Near Eastern texts, but it is also very Biblical (it occurs no less than 36 times in the Psalms). The texts in which YHWH answers via a medium are of particular relevance. In 1 Samuel 28, we see the negative form of this when Saul complains that God does not answer him in dreams, nor through the Urim, nor through the prophets. Eventually, he turns to the necromancer at En-Dor. 3. “by the hand of ”—YHWH almost always speaks and warns “by the hand of ” prophets, messengers, etc. 4. “seers” (‫ )חזין‬are known from the word in the Old Testament ‫חזה‬. The word ‘seers’ is almost synonomous to the latter word, although it is used less often than ‘prophet’.134 5. “messengers” (‫—)עדדן‬in biblical Hebrew, we also find the word ‫“ תעודה‬messenger”, for example in Isaiah 8:16 and the hif il of ‫ עוד‬as ‘to warn’. This does of course not imply necessarily that the function ‫ עדד‬existed in Israel, but there are other indications. Such as the names ‘Iddo’ and ‘Oded’. There are also parallels when it comes to the content of the oracle: 6. “Fear not” is a phrase that has its Sitz in Leben in the terminology of war and is found in the good news oracles of Deutero-Isaiah later on. 7. “I have made you king”. The most direct parallel of this can be found in the dream of king Solomon (1 Kgs 3:7).

132

KAI 201, l. 4–5. KAI 10, l. 2. 134 See for example 2 Sam. 24:11, which speaks of “the prophet Gad, David’s seer”, and 2 Kgs 17:13. 133

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8. “I stand beside you”—this expression does not have a direct biblical parallel. The turn of phrase ‫ קם עם‬is not known in Hebrew. The verb ‫ קם‬generally has the meaning of ‘to rise up against’ in the Bible. In other ancient Aramaic texts, we do come across the expression. 9. “I will save you”—the verb ‫ חלץ‬that was used only occurs in the Bible in the Lamentations. We do come across such synonyms as ‫פדה‬, ‫ ישׁע‬and ‫ גאל‬a lot. Conclusion: the entire scene calls into mind many biblical parallels: 1 Kings 20:13, 2 Kings 19:4–6 to give two examples. Metaphors Metaphors are missing completely in this entire text. Structure Title A The [st]ele which Zakkur, king of Hamath and Lu ash, set up for Ilu-Wer. The divine election of Zakkur to king B a I am Zakkur, king of Hamath and Lu ash. b I was a humble man b’ but Ba lshamayin called me and stood beside me a’ and Ba lshamayin made me king over Hazrach. ------Military activities------C a Bar-Hadad, son of Hazael, king of Aram, united against me seventeen kings x Bar-Hadad and his army, Bar-Gush and his army the king of Que and his army the king of Amuq and his army the king of Gurgum and his army the king of Sam al and his army the king of Meliz and his army Seventeen, they and their armies.

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a’ All these kings laid siege to Hazrach. They built a wall higher than the wall of Hazrach and they dug a ditch deeper than its ditch. X Then I raise my hands to Ba lshamayin and he answers me, Ba lshamayin, and he, Ba lshamayin, speaks to me through seers and messengers and Ba lshamayin says to me: C’ a Fear not, For I have made you king and I stand beside you and I will save you from all these kings who have besieged you x Ba lshamayin says to me: I will destroy all these kings who have besieged you and this wall Hazrach with chariot and horse a’ . . . its king within it --------Construction activities------------‘Election’ by Zakkur of Hazrach to be ‘queen’ B’ a I built Hazrach and added all the surroundings and I made her queen of all her b I have built these fortresses in the vicinity. b’ I have built shrines for the gods in my whole country a’ I have built . . . Apish and . . . the house . . . Curse formulas A’ a I set up for Ilu-Wer this stele b and I have writ]ten on it the deeds of my hands b’ Whoever removes from this stele the deeds of the hands of Zakkur, king of Hamath and Lu-ash, or whoever destroys this stele from before Ilu-Wer or takes it away from its place or whoever raises his hand against it

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a’ Ba lshamayin and IluWer and Shamash en Shahar and the gods of heaven and the gods of earth and Ba l his roots May endure for ever the name of Zakkur and the name of . . . The form in which the text is presented above shows us the concentric structure of the text. Immediately, we notice that Zakkur’s prayer to Ba lshamayin is central. This prayer is accompanied on both sides by kings who made a wall. These passages are surrounded by the kings themselves on both sides. In Cx, they march towards the enemy, in C’x, they are destroyed. Around this, we have Barhadad in Ca, who unites seventeen kings, and a king (Zakkur?) in the middle of his city in C’a’. Before these military events, it is described in B what Ba lshamayin did for pious Zakkur, namely calling him to be king. This passage itself has a beautiful chiastic structure: (a) I am king (b) I am pious (b’) Ba lshamayin called me (a’) he made me king. In B’, we once again see the reflection of what Zakkur in all his piety does in his turn for the gods: he builds temples and palaces and fortresses and he rebuilds cities, which are once again represented chiastically. The difference between B and B’ is beautifully expressed in the grammar of the sentences. In B, Zakkur is mostly the object (he called me, he made me king). In B’, he is very active, and we come across the phrase “I have built” four times. Lastly, the inscription (A) and the curse formula (A’) frame the stela. Grammar characteristics What is striking about the grammar in this text is the consistent use of the perfectum in the ‘summary’ parts and of the imperfect in the ‘scenic’ part of the text. Gibson also noticed this and he notes: “The most interesting isogloss, however, is what seems to be a number of instances of Waw consecutive with the imperf. In A 11f., a construction known elsewhere only from Hebr. and Moabite. I confess to some scepticism about this, however; there are several examples of imperfs. with past meaning in biblical Aram., which offer a way of explaining the feature within Aramaic”.135

135 Gibson, SSI II, 7–8. Müller, “König Mêša ”, 386, thinks that the imperfecta reflect an archaic, sacral use of language: “weil diese [i.e. imperfecta consecutiva]

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Apart from the question in which tense these verbs should be translated, it seems a good idea to us to note that the writer is making use of a change in the tempus in order to bring the story to life. One could chose to translate the perfecta in pluperfect tense and the imperfects in the perfect tense. It would be even livelier—as is our choice—to translate the perfecta with the perfect tense and the imperfects with the present tense. 3.3.5. The theology/ideology of the text Focalization of the king Seeing as that there are only two focalizators, the message is clear: Zakkur is a legitimate king. Both from Zakkur’s and from Ba lshamayin’s mouth, the official story is that Ba lshamayin made Zakkur king. Zakkur exhausts himself in trying to represent himself as a pious man. In times of a military crisis, he lifts his hands up to Ba lshamayin (A11), he builds temples for gods in his entire country (B9) and he erects a stela for Ilu-Wer. Valuation of the war The war in the story of Zakkur seems to be the determining test of the king’s legitimacy. A king can say that he has been elected by the gods a hundred times, but it will show whether this is true when a crisis arises.136

nach den vorangehenden, im Aramäischen normalen erzählenden ‘Perfecta’ völlig überraschend auftauchen, vermuten wir hier nach dem Vorgang anderer einen Atavismus der Sakralsprache.” 136 Our inscription gives us an interesting perspective on the stories of Saul in 1 Sam. 11 and 15. The books of Samuel once again seem to have the common Ancient Near Eastern world as a background, in order to make their own ‘sound’ more audible against this background. For Saul is chosen by YHWH and does not have to prove his legitimacy by waging a war. What is more: 1 Sam. 15 shows us that even a victorious war can eventually lead to the loss of YHWH’s support. It turns out that there is a group of people in Israel who is of the same opinion as Zakkur. This group was convinced of Sauls legitimacy, after he obtained his first military victory at Jabesh (1 Sam. 10:27; 11:12–13). Saul apparently sympathizes with this group. Rather than wanting to kill them for being disloyal, he wants to let them share in the “the deliverance that YHWH had brought to Israel”. What happens directly after, though, is that Saul’s kingship is renewed. The double ceremony at the occasion of Saul’s rise to the throne was always met with estrangement, but it becomes more understandable in this line of thought: there was a group that still thought in the ancient Eastern ‘extrabiblical’ manner and these individuals were not convinced till after the battle at Jabesh. Also

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The common Ancient Near Eastern ideology that the gods determine the outcome of a battle is linked to the ideology of the election of the king. This is different than the Mesha Stela, in which we saw that a defeat was not necessarily considered as a rejection of the king, but could also be interpreted as a punishment. This text furthermore seems to contain an element that we also came across in the Old Testament: the thought that piety and trust in the god are more empowering in the end than whatever military strategy. The wall and the canal that are built, respectively dug, by Barhadad c.s. are higher, respectively deeper, than the wall and canal of Hazrach (A10). It moreover seems that the proportion of seventeen kings against one is beyond any normal ratio. The intention of the text is not to criticize the use of violence, however, but to emphasize the piety of Zakkur. As we have seen, Zakkur had every interest in ascribing the victory to Ba lshamayin rather than to himself: he did not want to be self made man, but the prince-elect of the gods. Effect of the valuation of the war on the valuation of the king If the interpretation that was given above is correct, the evaluation of the war most certainly has an effect on the valuation of the king. Zakkur then comes across as a very pious king. Instead of trusting his military strength, he calls upon his god Ba lshamayin. He does not usurp the competence of Ba lshamayin, but he knows his place and concentrates on the construction of temples and steles.137 Focalization of the gods It is striking that the stela is dedicated to Ilu-Wer (A1 and B13–14), but that only Ba lshamayin plays a role in the rest of the story. Several theories exist on the relationship between the two.

see Kang, Divine War, 188: “What, after victory, the victor used to become a king is similar to the case of the beginning of the ancient Near East states.” 137 I think Euler reads to much into this ancient near eastern theme when he states: “Während nun Zkr im ersten Teil seiner Inschrift (Za) den Ausgang der Ereignisse auf Einwirken des Gottes zurückführt, schildert er im zweiten Teil der Inschrift (Zb) die Ereignisse als sein eigenes Werk. Mit der Machtverleihung durch den Gott war die Rechtsfrage gelöst; der Gott hatte gleichzeitig einen Rechtsanspruch dem König gegeben und ihn legitimiert. Dieser Akt ist hier Usurpation und Inthronisation.” See “Königtum und Götterwelt”, 290.

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Ba lshamayin is the more well-known of these two gods.138 This ‘Lord of Heaven’ (literally translation of Ba lshamayin) is a god who shows up somewhere in the second millennium in the Egyptian texts and in the texts from El Amarna. He is a warrior god and a fertility god—a combination that is more logical than it seems, because in those areas where he becomes more and more popular, fertility depends on rain that is frequently preceded by thunder and lightning. A roaring bull is his symbol—a symbol that encompasses both the element of fertility and the element of strength.139 The big question is: who was this Ilu-Wer? Some, such as Donner and Röllig, regard Ilu-Wer as a local god from Afis. They suppose that Zakkur probably erected several of such steles, each one for a local god. These gods would in this view be the equals of Ba lshamayin.140 An indication in support of this theory seems to me that a mix of two genres is represented in the Zakkur inscription, as we saw before. IluWer appears in the dedicatory part, (the first line and the curse passage at the end); Ba lshamayin is the star of the memorial part. Zakkur, in other words, has taken the opportunity of devoting a temple or something of this nature to Ilu-Wer to erect a memorial stela for the victories that he ascribed to Ba lshamayin as his personal god.141 Euler is of this opinion: Ba lshamayin was Zakkur’s personal god. Also referring to Kulamuwa, he argues that every dynasty has their own god, a b l bit, in the ancient Aramaic inscriptions. Seeing as that Zakkur did not stem from a dynasty, he could not give his personal god the title b l bit yet.142 This argumentum e silentio is not very strong, in our view, because the ending of the text is highly fragmentary.

138

See: O. Eißfeldt, “Baalsamem und Jahwe”, ZAW NF 16 (1939), 1–31. See RGG s.v. ‘Baal’. 140 KAI II, 206: “‫ בעלשׁמין‬N.pr. des im ganzen syrisch-palästinensischen Raum weit verbreiteten Himmels-gottes. Im Zusammenhang der vorliegenden Inschrift gilt er als Reichsgott des Staates von Hamath und als persönliche Schutzgottheit des Königs. Demgegenüber erscheint ‫ אלור‬als Lokalgott des Ortes Afis, an dem die Stele aufgestellt war [. . .] Die Verehrung die diesen dadurch erwiesen wurde, mag in dem Bestreben begründet sein, Lokalgötter dem grossen Himmelsgott theologisch anzugleichen.” 141 Be elsamayin should probably not be regarded as a national god who was the guarantor of political contracts. See Eißfeldt, “Baalsamem und Jahwe”, 14: “Es ist auch deutlich geworden, daß dieser Gott, Herr des Universums einerseits und Erbarmer des Individuums anderseits, weniger als andere an politischen Größen—Stamm, Stadt, Volk—gebunden war und so leicht von einem Volk zum anderen wandern konnte.” 142 Euler, “Königtum und Götterwelt,308–309: “Zkr weiht seine Stele, wie aus A 1 hervorgeht, dem Gott lur. Warum er dies tut, ist aus der Inschrift nicht zu ersehen. Während nach dem Inhalt der Stele Zkr zu lur keine engeren Beziehungen hat, sind 139

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On the opposing side, there are some who point out that Ilu-Wer is not otherwise known in these areas and is probably the same as IturMer, Wer or Mer from Mari. According to Ross, this would mean that Zakkur is of foreign descent and brought this god from Mari, Hana or Terqa. In this case, Zakkur would not have wanted to ascribe his victory to his personal god for propagandistic reasons, but rather to the highest god of the area over which he wished to remain king.143 Yet another theory states that both gods can be identified with each other. Alternatively, that Zakkur had the intention of identifying these two gods with each other: “In the Zakkur inscription (KAI, 213) it is Elwer before whom a statue (of the god or of the king?) is erected. Elwer has been equated in the Assyrian lexical lists with Hadad. Elwer may indeed be a form of Hadad, or we may have at play here the tendency, typical of the later periods, to make equations of this sort. on the other hand, the god thanked by Zakkur for saving him from his enemies is Ba lshamayin. Are Elwer and Ba lshamayin also equivalent? And what is the relationship of Ba lshamayin with Hadad?”144 It does not appear likely to us that this riddle will be solved. Was Zakkur an Aramaic person who had come to power in this little Canaanite state? Why did he then worship a Canaanite god and not his Aramaic opponent Hadad? Or was he autochthon after al? Why does he speak Aramaic and worship the god Ilu-Wer, who is otherwise unknown? In the curse passage, an entire series of gods is evoked as protectors of the stela, as was done by Kulamuwa. Zakkur appears to have a preference for merisms: “Shamash and Shahar” (sun and moon, so day and night), “the gods of heaven and the god of earth”. In other words: all gods.

diese zu B lšmin bedeutend: er verdankt diesem Gott seinen Thron, sucht bei ihm Rat und Hilfe und wird von ihm beschützt. Allerdings alles Momente rein persönlicher Art, soweit sie sein Königtum betreffen. Der Gedanke, daß damit B lšmin auch das Land beschützt und dessen Gott ist, wird mit keinem Wort erwähnt. Warum nennt aber Zkr seinen Gott B lšmin nun nicht auch b l bit? Dazu gibt es eine Parallele aus K [ Kulamuwa]; dort wird nämlich auch nur gesagt: b lsmd š lgbr, b lhmn š lbmh. Ein solcher Usurpator wie sie war auch Zkr, vond dessen Gott auch nicht der Titel b l bit gebraucht wird.” 143 Ross, “Prophecy”, 20–21. 144 J.C. Greenfield “Aspects of Aramean Religion”, in Miller, Ancient Israelite Religion, 65–78, especially p. 69. Greenfield vocalizes “Elwer” because he finds tat “Iluwer” sounds very Akkadian. In order to enlarge the riddle even more, it should be added to Greenfield’s observation that Hadad was the Aramaic opposite of the Canaanite Baal.

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Relationship between divine and human activity In this text, we find the Ancient Near Eastern ideology that the battle is the field of the gods, while construction forms part of the tasks of the king. The extent to which the king should be active or passive while waging war is not at all clear, seeing as that exactly the phase of the denouement of the besiegement is damaged. Theology/ideology of the text The theology of the text may be summarized as folows. (i) Waging war is the area of expertise of the gods, construction that of the kings. (ii) Ba lshamayin, as a personal god, elects Zakkur to be king. (iii) Piety weighs more heavily for Ba lshamayin than military skills. (iv) Seeing as that waging war is the field of the gods, i.c. Ba lshamayin, a victory can only be interpreted as a signal of divine election. 3.4. A selection from Sennacherib’s annals 3.4.1. Introduction to Sennacherib’s annals a. Translation Edition of the text: – BAL, Heft 1, 68–85 (third campaign: 73–76) – D.D. Luckenbill, The Annals of Sennacherib (OIP II), Chicago 1924, 23–47 (third campaign: 29–34) (transcript) 163–187 (third campaign: 169–173) (cuneiform) – E. Frahm, Einleitung in die Sanherib-Inschriften (AfO Beiheft 26), Vienna 1997 Translations: – ANET, 287–288 (only the third campaignt) – K. Galling, Textbuch zur Geschichte Israels, Tübingen 19682, 67–69 (only the third campaign) – ARAB, vol. 2, 115–128 (third campaign 118–121) – M. Cogan in: W.W. Hallo en K. Lawson Younger jr. (eds), The Context of Scripture, Volume II, 302–303 (only the third campaign) (Column I) (1) Sennacherib, the great king, (2) the mighty king,

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king of the world, king of Assyria, (3) king of the four quarters,145 the wise146 shepherd, (4) favorite147 of the great gods, guardian of right, (5) lover of justice, who lends support, (6) who comes to the aid of the destitute, who performs pious acts, (7) perfect hero, mighty man, (8) first among all kings, the harness that brings in line (9) the insubmissive, who strikes the enemy with the thunderbolt. (10) The god Ashur, the great mountain, an unrivalled kingship (11) has entrusted to me, and above all those (12) who dwell in palaces, has made my weapons powerful. (13) From the upper sea of the setting sun (14) to the lower sea of the rising sun, (15) he has brought the black-headed people in submission at my feet. (16) That is the reason recalcitrant kings feared my warfare, (17) leaving their homes and (18) fleeing alone, like the bat, the bird of the cave, (19) to some inaccessible place. (Column II) (37) In my third campaign, I marched against Hatti. (38) Lulli, king of Sidon, the awesome splendor (39) of my lordship overwhelmed him, and far off (40) into the midst of the sea he fled. There he disappeared.

145 146 147

In the Rassam-cylinder: “the unrivalled king”. In the Rassam-cylinder: mutnennû, ‘pious’, in stead of itpešu, ‘wise’. In the Rassam-cylinder: “the godfearing”.

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(41) Great Sidon, Little Sidon, (42) Bit-Zitti, Sariptu, Mahalliba, (43) Ushu, Akzib, Akko, (44) his strong, walled cities, where there were food and water, (45) for his garrisons, the terror of the weapon of Ashur, (46) my lord, overwhelmed them and they bowed in submission at my feet. (47) I installed Tuba lu on the royal throne (48) over them, and tribute as a tax, (49) to pay to me as lord yearly and without ceasing I imposed upon him. (50) Minu immu of Samsimuruna, (51) Tuba lu of Sidon, (52) Abdili ti of Arvad, (53) Urumilki of Byblos, (54) Mitinti of Ashdod, (55) Puduilu of Beth-Ammon, (56) Kammusunadbi of Moab, (57) Ayarammu of Edom, (58)—the kings of Amurru, all of them, brought numerous presents (59) as their abundant audience-gift, (60) before me fourfold,148 and kissed my feet. But idqa, (61) king of Ashkelon, who had not submitted (62) to my yoke, his family gods, himself, his wife, (63) his sons, his daughters, his brothers and his descendants (64) I deported and brought to Assyria. (65) Sharru-lu-dari, son of Rukibti, their former king, (66) I set over the people of Ashkelon. (67) I imposed upon him the payment of tribute: presents to me as lord. (68) He bears my yoke. In the course of my campaign, (72) I besieged and conquered (69) Beth-Dagon, Joppa, (70) Bene-Berak, Azuru, —cities (71) of idqa, who had not speedily bowed in (72) submission at my feet and I carried off their spoil.

148

Gallagher, Sennacherib’s Campaign, 106–110, rejects the translation “four times”. According to him, it was “four times” the normal payment because these kings were four years behind on their payments (705–701).

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(73) The officials, nobles, and people of Ekron (74) who had thrown Padi their king—bound by oath and obligation to Assyria—(75) into iron fetters (76) and had handed him over to Hezekiah, the Judaean, (77) in a hostile manner (78) their heart became afraid because of the offense they had committed, (79) and they called upon the Egyptian kings, the bowmen, chariots and horses (80) of the king of Ethiopia, a countless host, and (81) these came to their aid. (82) In the plain of Eltekeh, (83) they drew up their ranks against me, (Column III) (1) They sharpened their weapons. Trusting in the god Ashur, (2) my lord, I fought with them and (3) brought about their defeat. The Egyptian charioteers and princes, (4) together with charioteers of the Ethiopian king, (5) I captured alive in the midst of the battle (6) with my own hands. Eltekeh and Timnah (7) I besieged and captured, and carried off their spoil. (8) I approached Ekron and slew its officials and nobles (9) who had rebelled, and (10) hung their bodies on stakes around the city. The citizens (11) who committed sinful acts I counted as spoil. (12) The rest of them, who had not sinned (13), for whom there was no punishment, (14) I declared their pardon. Padi, their king, (15) I brought out to Jerusalem, (16) and set him on throne as king over them, and (17) imposed upon him tribute to me as lord. (18) As for Hezekiah the Judean, (19) who did not submit to my yoke:149 forty-six of his strong, walled cities,

149

This phrase is missing in the Rassam cylinder.

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as well as (20) the small towns in their area, (21) which were without number— by bringing up siege-engines (22) and by applying battering-rams, infantry attacks, (23) by mines, breeches and ladders,150 I besieged and conquered them. (24) 200,150 people, great and small, male and female, (25) horses, mules, donkeys, camels, (26) cattle and sheep without number, I took out (27) and counted as spoil. He himself, like a caged bird (28) I shut up in Jerusalem, his royal city. (29) I surrounded him with earthworks— (30) coming out of the city-gate was taboo for him. (31) His cities, which I had despoiled, I cut off from his land, and (32) to Mitinti, king of Ashdod, (33) Padi, king of Ekron, and illi-bel, (34) king of Gaza, I gave (them). And thus I diminished his land. (35) To their former tribute, to pay yearly, (36) I added a gift for me as lord (37) and imposed it upon them.151 This Hezekiah, (38) the terrifying splendour of my lordship overwhelmed him, and (39) the urbi152 and his elite troops 150 I. Eph al sums up about thirthy techniques of warfare, varying from negotiations and psychological warfare to all kinds of ingenious storming machines in: “Ways and Means to Conquer a City, Based on Assyrian Queries to the Sungod”, in: S. Parpola en R.M. Whiting (eds.), Assyria 1995: Proceedings of the 10th Anniversary Symposium on the Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project Helsinki, September 7–11, 1995, Helsinki 1997, 49–53. 151 The Taylor and the Heidel prism say ēruššun (“their”) here instead of ēruššu (“his”). This interpretation, according to Borger, BAL I, 75, is preferable over the Chicago prism. 152 See D. Neiman, “Urbi: ‘irregulars’ or ‘Arabs’ ”, JQR 60 (1970), 237–258. On grounds of the fact that urbu in Arabic is a variant of arab “Arab”, Neiman decides that this word has to mean “Arabs”. He does not make clear, however, why he uses a loanword from Arabic, because in Akkadic, an Arab is called aribi. Another theory is Tadmor’s theory, which he also elaborates on in M. Cogan en H. Tadmor, II Kings, 247, that this is a West-Semitic loanword, i.e. ‫ארב‬, which means “to lie in an ambush”. This would concern some sort of marksman. Although Gallagher goes with Tadmor in Sennacherib’s Campaign, 136, his theory offers food for the thought that this indeed refers to Arabs. He also thinks that after the ominous death of Sargon, several peoples gathered the courage to start a rebellion. Some sort of axis Babylon-Arabia-Judah

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which he had brought in to strengthen (40) Jerusalem, his royal city, (41) deserted him. In addition to the 30 talents of gold and (42) 800 talents of silver, choice antimony, (43) large blocks of carnelian, ivory-inlaid couches, (44) ivory-inlaid chairs, elephant hides, ivory, (45) ebony-wood, boxwood, all kinds of valuable treasures, (46) as well as his daughters, his palace women, his male and female (47) singers, he had brought after me (48) to Nineveh, my royal city. To pay tribute (49) and to accept servitude, he sent his messenger. On the state of the material Sennacherib’s annals have been found in many different text editions: on cylinders, on prisms (pillars with six sides to it), on images of bulls, on inscriptions in caves, on clay tablets and on separate slabs.153 Some inscriptions only report on one or a limited number of campaigns. The Rassam cylinder, for example, mentions the first three and is dated in the month Ajjaru of the year 700: not even a year after the besiegement of Jerusalem. There are two texts that mention all of Sennacherib’s eight campaigns: the so-called Taylor and Chicago prisms. The latter prism derives its name from its current location at the Oriental Institute in Chicago. I base myself on this text because it is in an excellent state and good publications of the text exist. Borger published the text with a critical apparatus, in which the most important alternatives are mentioned. The alternatives do not seem very important to our reserach. Differences with the Taylor-prism consist wholly of a different arose, as can be told from the messengers of Merodach-baladan in 2 Kgs 20. The fear that arose when Babylon fell in 704 and it became clear that a punitive expedition to Judah could not be avoided is also reflected in Isaiah’s oracles in chapter 21 and 22. Is. 21:13–17 is interesting in this respect that we get the impression that Judah indeed feels left in the lurch by the Arabs, who were afraid for the violence of war; while a couple of verses down, in 22:3, it is also mentioned that “rulers were captured without the use of a bow.” We moreoever get the impression from texts of a later date that anyone who lived South of Judah was called “Arab”. Compare to Neh. 4:7, 2 Chron. 17:11, 21:16, in which Arabs and Philistines are mentioned in one breath. We can imagine that ‘Urbi’ was an indication of ‘Arab auxiliary troops’, such as ‘Cheretites and Peletites’, which was symbolic of ‘Cretan and Philistine auxiliary troops’ at the time of David. So as to not suggest certainty when there is no real certainty, I will leave the word ‘Urbi’ in the text. 153 See L. Levine, “Preliminary remarks on the historical inscriptions of Sennacherib”, in: H. Tadmor en M. Weinfeld (ed.), History, Historiography and Interpretation: Studies in Biblical and Cuneiform Literatures, Jerusalem 1983, 58–75. He notes that there are no less than 250 known texts of Sennacherib. Of these texts, 157 have military actions as their subject!

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spelling of certain words. The differences with the Rassam Cylinder are also minimal. There are variations between this text and inscriptions on statues of bulls, for example, but it seems to go too far to map all these differences. We shall limit ourselves to the text of the Chicago prism. Seeing as that the text is in an excellent state, there are hardly any critical issues when it comes to the translation of the text. The Chicago prism is dated to the year 689 B.C.154 Historical background As we direct our attention to Sennacherib’s government (705–681), we find ourselves in a period that can both be regarded the zenith and the turning point155 in the history of the Neo-Assyrian Empire. Who studies the history of the last kings of Assyria, from Sargon II (722–705) to Ashurbanipal (668–627), sees an Empire that seems successful on the outside, but is insecure on the inside. Perhaps the outside image of a harsh and ruthless war machine is no more than a mask of this inner insecurity.156 Van der Spek points out how almost every king rises to power in this period either by means of a coup d’état or under circumstances of enormous political problems. His conclusion therefore is that Assyrian kings needed legitimation. They could get this by means of an appeal on the gods or by having military success.157 Not only were there tensions at the court between aspiring crown princes, but

154 Luckenbill, ARAB, 115. The Taylor prism is two years older and stems from the year 691. 155 Says for example W. Mayer, “Sanherib und Babylonien: Der Staatsmann und Feldherr im Spiegel seiner Babylonienpolitik”, in M. Dietrich and others, Vom Alten Orient zum Alten Testament: Festschrift für Wolfram Freiherrn von Soden zum 85. Geburtstag 19. Juni 1993, Neukirchen-Vluyn 1995, 305–322. 156 Especially see: W. von Soden, “Religiöse Unsicherheit, Säkularisierungstendenzen und Aberglaube zur Zeit der Sargoniden”, AnBib 12 (1959), 356–367. As an aside, this vision is called “obsolete” by B. Pongratz-Leisten, Herrschaftswissen in Mesopotamien: Formen der Kommunikation zwischen Gott und König im 2. und 1. Jahrtausend v.Chr. (SAAS vol. X), Helsinki 1999, 7. She believes that the Sargonids attempted to extend their control over society further and further, in the fields of religion and science, among others. Besides, in the conclusions on p. 317, she continues to state that this “Kontrollbedürfnis” mainly increased because of the “zunehmender innerer Destabilisierung aufgrund der Thronfolgebestimmungen Sanheribs und Asarhaddons”. Apparently, postulating a psychological and/or historical dialectic between fear and a compulsion to seek control at the Sargonidic court is not thát ‘obsolete’, either. 157 Van der Spek, “Het Assyrische Imperialisme”, 17. He later transformed this article into “Assyriology and History”.

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also between Assyria and Babylonia,158 between an increasingly strong Aramaic undercurrent in the Assyrian society and the Assyrians,159 and among the Assyrians themselves. This could explain why propaganda started to play such an important role in the Neo-Assyrian Empire. We shall discuss the manner in which the annals were written and the changes carried through in this genre by Sennacherib in this chapter, but perhaps we shall see these changes even better in the next chapters: the fact that Sennacheribs son Esarhaddon apparently started to use prophecies for propagandistic ends (chapter 3.5) and the fact that he thought it was necessary to account for his deeds to his god Ashur by means of a letter (chapter 3.6). These are signals that, according to some, indicate the support of the people and/or the elite was no longer self-evident.160 Sennacherib comes to power under ominous circumstances. His father Sargon II dies in battle and what is worse: his body is never found. This was regarded as a punishment of the gods. There is a text in which Sennacherib has soothsayers investigate what Sargon’s sin was.161 This text is probably of a much later date and tells us more about Esarhaddon than about Sennacherib or Sargon, but the fact of the matter is that Sennacherib averts himself from his father: his father’s name is

158 This is the reason why Mayer, “Sanherib und Babylonien”, regards Sennacherib’s reign as the turning point. The careful politics that was always the trademark of the Assyrian kings with respect to their fellow people of Babylonia, is effectively abandoned in the horrific eighth campaign by Sennacherib. The negative forces that are thereby released are impossible to turn around, says Mayer. The history of Sennacherib with Babylonia is described well in: J.A. Brinkman, “Sennacherib’s Babylonian Problem: An Interpretation”, JCS 25 (1973), 89–95. 159 Van der Spek, “Het Assyrische Imperialisme”, 9. 160 Oppenheim even states that external communication (the enemy) must have been significantly more effective than internal communication with the Assyrian subjects. See A.L. Oppenheim, “Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian Empires”, in: Lasswell e.a. (eds.), Propaganda and Communication, Vol. I, 111–144. Tadmor also arrives at the—tentative—conclusion that we should be careful to use the word ‘propaganda’, but that the kings were also addressing the elite by means of their texts for the gods: “The unseen audience of the ARI [Assyrian Royal Inscriptions] was the ever-present gods and the future princely reader. Their content also presumably had a natural and interested audience in the state elite, non-literate as well as literate.” See: H. Tadmor, “Propaganda, Literature, Historiography: Cracking the Code of the Assyrian Royal Inscriptions”, in: Parpola en Whiting (eds.), Assyria 1995, 325–338, especially 334. 161 See Tadmor e.a., “The Sin of Sargon and Sennacherib’s Last Will”. Parpola comes to the conclusion in this piece of writing that this strange text is probably based on a dream that Esarhaddon himself had and in which Sennacherib’s spirit warns him not to make the same mistakes as were made by Sargon and himself, i.c. to make a statue for Marduk and to have a friendly policy with respect to Babel.

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never mentioned in his inscriptions, he leaves his father’s capital DurSharrukin (Sargonburg) and makes Nineveh the capital.162 He moreover changes the political course entirely: the ‘dove’ becomes a ‘hawk’, to remain in Sennacherib’s beloved world of bird metaphors.163 Sennacherib’s first campaign only takes place after two years. Because of the ideological convention that a king should start his reign with a couple of military victories, he starts the historiography in his annals with this first campaign.164 Of his eight campaigns, only three are aimed at the West or the North and the others are all aimed at the problems in the South of Mesopotamia: Babylon and Elam. Sennacherib claims to have booked as many victories as there were campaigns, but the much more objective Babylonian chronicle also reports on a great deal of adversities and defeats for Sennacherib. Between the lines, Sennacherib confirms this himself. When Sennacherib places his son Ashur-nadin-shumi on the throne of Babylon during one of his campaigns, his son is captured not long after this event and handed over to the king of Elam and killed. This would explain Sennacherib’s anger that he cools of during his last, eighth campaign.165 In the mean time,

162

Also see chapter 2.6. See Van der Spek, “Het Assyrische Imperialisme”, 16. 164 See: H. Tadmor, “History and Ideology in the Assyrian Royal Inscriptions”, in: Fales (ed.), Assyrian Royal Inscriptions, 13–33. Tadmor states that the code, derived from an older epic work, is that a hero books military success first and receives power later. This created problems with the chronistic tradition in Assyria later on. We see the beginning of this development with Tukulti-Ninurta I (1246–1209), who suggests that all his victories were booked in his first year. “Obviously, this is not a chronological arrangement of events. We tend to classify it as an epic-heroic convention, set to comply with and rooted in ideological and literary pattern, rather than a convention stemming from a necessity to relate historical events as they actually happened. The central, ideologically conditioned motif is that of the warrior-king who performs mighty deeds in a single year, which has to be his first ‘term of office’. Alas, such a convention, typical to the heroic epic, was in fact diametrically opposed to the dry chronistic form of narration, one that is confined to presenting the events in their proper, historical sequence” (ibidem). Sargon II solves this problem by claiming the last victory of his predecessor Shalmanassar V as his first. Sennacherib finds something else: he no longer speaks of palû, ‘year of reign’, but of girru, ‘campaign’, an innovation which has since been taken up by other scholars. He begins his annals with his first campaign, suggesting that this campaign took place at the beginning of his reign. Sadly for us, two years are covered up. 165 Compare to Brinkman, “Sennacherib’s Babylonian Problem”, 94: “In 689, Babylon fell to Sennacherib, whose forbearance had been taxed by his unsuccessful attempts at governing the land, by the recurring revolts, by the loss of his son, and now by a protracted two-year offensive. Gone was the reverential young king who had inquired solicitously of diviners whether his father had offended the deities of Babylonia. In his place was an exasperated monarch and vengeful father, whose wrath 163

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another person, mušezib-marduk, ‘Marduk saves’ manages to take place on the throne of Babylon. The end of Sennacherib’s reign is even more desolate than the beginning, if possible. He manages to create division at his own court by appointing Esarhaddon as his successor. His name (aššur-a u-idinna, ‘Ashur has given a brother’) does not exactly create the impression that he was the eldest son. Sennacherib attempts to give him another ‘throne’ name, namely aššur-etel-ilāni-mukin-apli, ‘it is Ashur, the lord of the gods, who appoints the heir’, but this name never caught on. Why not? We will never know. What we do know is that the strife among the aspiring kings led to the murder of Sennacherib by one or several of his sons.166 This event even resounds in the Bible.167 At his death, Sennacherib bequeathed a severely divided empire that could only be controlled through brute power. Genre The Chicago prism is an annal. An annal is defined as follows: “Annalistic texts contain narration of military campaigns arranged in chronological order and they are primarily in first person (in contrast to chronicles which are in third person).”168 There are annals that mention only one campaign, and there are also annals that contain more

was not to be turned aside by considerations of an ancient culture or by veneration of gods whose treasuries had mustered troops against him. Against this background, it is easier to understand why Sennacherib authorized the ruthless destruction of Babylon, described in one of his texts.” 166 After more than 26 centuries of insecurity and speculation, we now finally definitively know the name of the murderer: Arda-Mulissu. The detective who solved this cold case is S. Parpola, “The murderer of Sennacherib”, in: B. Alster ed., Death in Mesopotamia: Papers read at the XXXVI Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale (Mesopotamia 8), Kopenhagen 1980, 171–182. Before the publication of this article, many explanations had been given for the name (Adramelek, Ardumuzan etc.) and even Esarhaddon had been regarded as the murderer due to a judicial digression by B. Landsberger and Th. Bauer. Also see their “Zu neuveröffentlichten Geschichtsquellen der Zeit von Asarhaddon bis Nabonid”, ZA 37 (1926–1927), 61–78, especially 69. 167 2 Kgs 19:37. The Masoretic interpretation, the name ‫אדרמלך‬, turns not to have hit so far from the mark. Parpola, “The murderer”, 174, states that admittedly, two mistakes showed up in the name, i.e. the metathesis of ‫ ר‬and ‫( ד‬Adra- instead of Arda-) and the stem mlš, incomprehensible in Hebrew, was changed into the contemporary mlk, but the biblical tradition was reliable. 168 See A.K. Grayson, “Histories and Historians of the Ancient Near East: Assyria and Babylonia”, Or 49 (1980), 140–194, for an especially useful overview of all historiographic and chronographic genres in Mesopotamia. The quote is from p. 150. We find this overview again in his later article “Assyrian Royal Inscriptions: Literary Characteristics”, in: F.M. Fales (ed.), Assyrian Royal Inscriptions, 35–47.

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than one campaign. Because of their large number and their mutual interdependency, they are the ideal study object for researchers who want to discover the methods of the Assyrian writers. Initially, it was thought that when campaigns of a later date were added, the earlier ones necessarily had to be shortened. In the mean time, the general opinion among scholars is that this procedure was somewhat more diffuse. One could expand, shorten and combine texts.169 This depended on where the inscription was placed, on the number of other sources that the writer had at his disposal,170 and perhaps on the personal style of the writer. The last investigations show that the writers disposed of a relatively large amount of freedom.171 It may go too far to state that the goal of the annals was propagandistic After all, the Assyrian population was largely analphabetic and moreover, a large part of the texts had been engraved in clay in the foundation of a palace or a temple. While nowadays the accessibility of the Akkadian texts can be a problem at times, it was not always that much better in the days of old! Yet it is easier to defend the statement that these texts form, as it were, the ‘articulation’ of a way of thinking by the Assyrian kings that was aimed at propaganda. Oppenheim points out that the Assyrian kings had various forms of communication with enemies and subjects: monuments, palaces, fortresses, steles, and rituals. The war was even a form of “sign-producing, that is symbolic communication”.172 The horrors of war had no other goal than taking away any desire that any possible enemy might have to express their opposition. The message of the remarkably explicit reliefs in the

169 See H. Tadmor, “Propaganda, Literature, Historiography: Cracking the Code of the Assyrian Royal Inscriptions”, in: Parpola en Whiting (eds.), Assyria 1995, 325– 338 and J. Renger, “Aspekte von Kontinuität und Diskontinuität in den assyrischen Königsinschriften”, in: H. Hauptmann and H. Waetzoldt, Assyrien im Wandel der Zeiten: XXXIX e Recontre Assyriologique Internationale Heidelberg 6.–10. Juli 1992, Heidelberg 1997, 169–175. 170 According to Tadmor, “Propaganda, Literature, Historiography”, 329, even embedded journalists already existed: “After all, royal scribes accompanied the king on every military engagement.” 171 See Grayson, “Histories”, 164–170 for the procedures of writing. Also see: Levine, “Preliminary remarks”. J. Renger builds on his suggestions in “Neuassyrische Königsinschriften als Genre der Keilschriftliteratuur—Zum Stil und zur Kompositionstechnik der Inschriften Sargons II von Assyrien”, in: K. Hecker und W. Sommerfeld, Keilschriftliche Literaturen (BBVO 6), Berlin 1986, 109–128, en “Aspekte von Kontinuität und Diskontinuität in den assyrischen Königsinschriften”. 172 Oppenheim, “Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian Empires”, 111. Also see Oded, War, Peace and Empire, 157–161.

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entrance hall of the palace was carried to other peoples via ambassadors and other travellers.173 The stela, even though it had been written in Assyrian and although it stood in the midst of an Aramaic-speaking and mostly analphabetic population—could only be interpreted in one manner, like a flag planted on strange soil. The prisms and the other texts, which were kept in the foundation of a building, could only be read by the gods and by successors. Nonetheless, they fit within the manner of thinking that propaganda is important.174 3.4.2. The level of the event Classification of events In our analysis, we mostly limit ourselves to the third campaign, but we will include the beginning and the ending of the prism nonetheless. We do this out of practical reasons, because the text would otherwise be too long. It moreover seems as if most campaigns have been modelled in a similar way. This statement does not pertain the eighth and the ninth campaign, which remind us of the genre of ‘letter to the gods’

173 See Shanks, “Destruction of Judean fortress”. In this article, he describes drawings of the entrance of the hall in Sennacherib’s ‘unrivalled palace’, where reliefs could be seen of the besiegement of Lachish. Everything was aimed at making an impression on the visitor. Three statues of bulls with human heads were placed the one after the other. As if that was not sufficiently frightening, each bull statues was slightly smaller than the previous one so that the false perspective created the suggestion of a very long hallway. The hallway led to the hall where every visitor could see the conquest of Lachish and the horrors surrounding this conquest. According to Shanks, Sennacherib must have experienced the conquest of this Judean city as his “finest hour”. Also see: Winter, “Royal Rhetoric”. She also gives a very interesting analysis of the ideological message that was sent out by the throne hall of Ashurnasirpal II and she shows that these reliefs form the exact parallel of his annals. Just like the statues in a catholic church, the reliefs expressed to the non-alphabetic and largely non-Akkadianspeaking population what the annals told expressis verbis. Of the same author, also see: “Art in Empire: The Royal Image and the Visual Dimensions of Assyrian Ideology”, in: Parpola and Whiting (eds.), Assyria 1995, 359–381. 174 Oppenheim, “Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian Empires” 119: “However, the publicity function of the stela was considered achieved ex opere operato rather than through actual communication from written text to reader.” This stands in contrast to Garelli, who feels that the reliefs in palaces mostly served the pleasure of the king. He draws a comparison to Louis XIV’s Versailles: “Versailles est la manifestation de l’orgueil d’un souverain absolu, qui édifie pour son seul plaisir un monument grandiose. Toute la cour y participe, mais elle est convaincue à l’avance et elle bénéficie des retombées de cette gloire. Cela ferait plutôt penser à une grand-messe solennelle, dont l’éclat est destiné beaucoup plus à satisfaire la foi des participants qu’à impressionner des spectateurs incroyants.” See: “La Conception de la Royauté en Assyrie”, in: Fales (ed.), Assyrian Royal Inscriptions, 1–11, especially p. 10.

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(see 3.6). Just like Sargon II after his sacrilege in the temple of the god aldia in Urartu and just like Esarhaddon when he takes harsh action with respect to the king of Shubria, it seems as if Sennacherib has to justify his brutal war against Babylon. The choice of the third campaign is arbitrary. Of course, this campaign has always attracted the most attention in research, because this is the Assyrian side of the story of 2 Kings 18–19.

Intro1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 endduc- Baby- Kassi- Hatti Bit- Tumur- Bit- Elam Baby- ing tion lon tes Jakin ru Jakin lon exposition phase a. self presentation b. occasion of text c. previous kings d. summary of the story

1

1

complication phase e. aggression from the outside f. insubordination g. call for an oracle h. oracle

1 2

1

1

4

1

1 1

1

1

1

1

climax i. battle j. divine intervention k. divine support m. new territory n. flight enemy o. caption of cities p. plundering q. change of direction

2

4

1

2

3 1

1

2

2 1

1 1 4

2 1

1 2

1

2 4

2 1

1 2 2

1

1 1

1 1

1 1 1

2 1

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Table (cont.) Intro1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 endduc- Baby- Kassi- Hatti Bit- Tumur- Bit- Elam Baby- ing tion lon tes Jakin ru Jakin lon dénouement r. taxes s. construction activities t. religious measures u. government change v. deportation w. making land smaller x. punishment y. erecting the inscription z. blessing and curse

1

5 1

1 2

3

2 1

3 1

1

1

1

1

The numbers in this overview show the number of times that an actual event or a theme occurs in the text. The numbered columns indicate eight different campaigns held by Sennacherib. We did not only look at the third campaign for this overview, but also at the larger whole of the prism. He who reads this text in its entirety notices that while it maybe a loosely composed text, it has a given number of episodes or themes. In a separate appendix to this paragraph, we can see which themes/episodes occur regularly in the text and to what motif words these themes are connected.175 The story in the third campaign should be viewed against this background. The presentation In comparison to the previous three texts, it is striking that an entirely different style of self-presentation is used. Two aspect s are particularly striking: the large number of epithets and the lack of a patronymic. To start with the last feature: the use of a patronymic was customary in

175

Also see Liverani, “Ideology”. In this article, to which we shall also refer below, he connects the ideology to certain stereotypical turns of phrases. His observations fit with ours to a large extent. We already discussed his theory in paragraph 1.3.2.

1 1

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the Assyrian royal inscriptions. There was even an obsessive attention for the dynastic line.176 The reason that Sennacherib does not mention the name of his father should have something to do with the ominous death of Sargon II that we already referred to above. Garelli’s research into the epithets177 leads him to classify them into seven categories: legitimate descent, war capabilities, physical aspects, moral capacities, civil presentations, relation with the gods and fame. The summary The summary (I, 10–19) actually already conveys the ideology. The god Ashur gives Sennacherib “an unrivalled kingship”. Ashur is the god of the empire, who made Sennacheribs weapons more powerful than the weapons of any other king. Ashur makes all “people bow” under Sennacherib’s feet. “To bow” (kanāšu) is an important word in the text. “To not bow” is the terminus technicus for insubordination in such turns of phrases as: “who did not bow for my yoke” (ša lā iknušū ana nīria) or “who had not speedily bowed in submission at my feet” (ša ana šēpū’a ar iš lā iknušū). This goes against Ashur’s will and is therefore sufficient justification to commence a war. Whenever no bowing takes place, Sennacherib has to come into action to “subject” (sa āpu). He does so with much enthusiasm, which has as its consequence that all “recalcitrant kings feared my warfare, leaving their homes and flying alone, like the bat, the bird of the cave, to some inaccessible place”. We come across the imagery of fleeing birds repetitively in the entire text. The complication phase The complication phase is particularly short as a result of what we noted above. Just one remark, the remark that a king was not bowing, frequently even mentioned in a auxiliary phrase, is sufficient to unleash battle. There are no extensive negotiations, no surrendering enemies or fearful and doubtful armies. If this scene is extended, such as in

176 Grayson, “Histories”, 179 on the Assyrian list of kings: “The impetus to compile the list in later periods could have at least two causes: the document was a useful chronological aid and it supported the belief that kingship in Assyria descended in a continuous line with virtually no disruptions. Thus as late as the seventh century B.C. Esarhaddon speaks of himself as ‘offspring of Bel-bani, son of Adasi’, two rulers who lived sometime early in the second millennium.” 177 Garelli, “La Conception de la Royauté” and “La Conception de la Beauté en Assyrie”. Zie ook Oded, War, Peace and Empire, 153. We discussed the theories of Garelli in paragraph 1.3.2d.

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II, 73–81 and during the eighth campaign, the extra information we receive is about the “crimes” committed by the enemy and about the alliance he is forging against Ashur. Whenever insubordination is not the reason for war, because the area to be conquered is new (for example in campaign 2 and 5), justification is found in an explicit assignment by Ashur. At least, this is the case if we interpret the phrase dAššur utakkilanni, (“Ashur encouraged me”) as an allusion to an encouragment oracle.178 We think we can also discern this pattern in the stone of Mesha: recapturing lost area’s does not require an explicit verdict by the god, but new territory requires a divine mandate. Campaign 8 is different in every way. We observe in this campaign that Sennacherib indeed has to use every possible argument to justify his war: even aggression from the outside is discussed when Sennacherib extensively sums up which vassals the king of Elam is rounding up against him (compare to the Zakkur Inscription). The insubordination of Shuzubu is not discarded in the usual auxiliary phrase, but is described in many different ways in V,17–24: he is a “wicked devil”, “planning resistance” and “gathering around him the runaway, the murderer, the bandit”. Lastly, this is the only time that Sennacherib himself asks for an oracle (V,65) and receives one from no less than eight gods (V,63–64). Climax and dénouement What is striking is that little events take place during each campaign. These differences among the campaigns can be partially explained. Campaign 2 differs from the others, because this is the only campaign during which new territory was conquered. Hence Sennacherib’s remark, repeated twice, that Sennacherib’s forefathers had never been here before. Hence probably our finding that it is only here that we hear about the erection of a stela and of a change of a name of the capital in Kar-Sennacherib (‘Sennacherib City’) during this campaign. Furthermore, the campaigns 1, 4, 6, 7 and 8 are all directed towards the South of Mesopotamia: Babylon and/or the Chaldaean, which

178 I choose this interpretation on the grounds of the verb takālu (D-stem), ‘to make trust, to encourage’, being a similar terminus technicus to the šīr takilti, ‘encouragement oracle’ or ‘salvation oracle’, which was derived from it. See Weippert, “Heiliger Krieg”, 467, especially note 28.

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regularly rebelled against the Assyrian supremacy together with Elam.179 The extent to which the Southeast especially took up Sennacherib’s time and energy, can be illustrated by means of the representational time that he devotes to each of these campaigns, this being 234 lines (I: 45, IV: 26, VI: 22, VII: 34 and VIII: 107) while he devotes 176 lines to the campaigns in the west (II: 41, III: 97 and V: 38). In comparison to the previous three texts, we can see that Sennacherib has other interests than the three vassals. Not liberation and royal legitimacy are the central themes, but imperialism and economic gain. This shows the great difference in perspective between the vassal prince of small (city)state and the great king of an immense empire. Mesha, Zakkur and Kulamuwa are relieved after an attack. The improvement is very visible to their population, but to the great kings, the point is to generate as much political-ideological gain as possible from this improvement. For the inhabitants of Ashur and Nineveh, the war in Syria or Elam is a far-away show. They do not experience the same relief of a besiegement that has been lifted. Still, they would like to know what they have gained from the efforts of their sons. Hence such themes as ‘plundering’, ‘taxes’ and ‘deportation’. The above is an introduction to the events of campaign 3: Sidon: battle with Lulli of Sidon flight conquest of the cities of Sidon divine support change in policy: Tuba’lu on the throne charging taxes payment of taxes by 9 loyal kings

(event of the type) II, 37–39 i II, 40 n II, 41–45 o II, 45–46 k II, 47 u II, 48–49 r II, 50–60 r

Askalon: insubordination idqa of Askalon deportation idqa and his family change in policy: Sharru-lu-dari

II, 60–61 II, 61–64 II, 65–66

f v u

179 For a historical overview of Sennacherib’s campaigns, especially of his troubles with the South, see: Veenhof, Geschichte, 263–267, and the article that was mentioned before by Mayer, “Sanherib und Babylonien”.

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charging taxes insubordination conquest cities of Askalon

II, 67–68 II, 71 II, 68–72

r f o

Ekron: insubordination van Ekron support of Egypt battle divine support conquest of Elteke and Timna punishment: hanging of corpses change of policy: Padi charging taxes

II, 73–78 II, 78–81 II, 82–III, 5 III, 1 III, 6–7 III, 8–11 III, 12–16 III, 17

f e i k o x u r

Jerusalem: insubordination Hezekiah conquest cities plundering/deportation180 ‘flight’181 making the land smaller charging taxes battle with Hezekiah payment of taxes/deportation

III, III, III, III, III, III, III, III,

f o p/v n w r i r/v

18–19 19–23 24–27 27–30 31–34 35–36 37–38 39–49

We saw this happening on a large scale in the entire prism, and now we can see it happening on a small scale during campaign 3: without having been bound to a scheme very tightly, certain themes keep coming up.182 There are several scenario’s, depending on such factors as: will

180 We wonder to which extent the people, who are “counted as spoil” along with the cattle and the goods, are an example of plundering or deportation. When the royal family of Ekron in II, 61–64 is deported, it seems more like a punishment, while the motivation in the first case of deportation mostly seems to be economic gain from cheap labourers. This is also true for the lines III, 39–49. 181 ‘Flight’ is placed between quotation marks here because Hezekiah does not in fact flee, but is locked into his own city. The bird metaphors, which are frequently related to the theme ‘flight’ in other texts by Sennacherib, seem to indicate that this passage has a comparable function here. Whether the bird has been captured or whether it flew away, in any case it is no longer active. 182 Compare to. Renger, “Neuassyrische Königsinschriften”, 213: “Die folgenden Hypothese über den Kompositions-prozeß, der den Inschriften Sargons zugründe liegt, läßt sich aufstellen. Ein assyrischer Schreiber war aufgrund seiner Ausbildung in der

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the king flee or will the cities surrender? With Sidon, the king flees and the cities “bow” “under the feet” of Sennacherib. In this case, charging taxes is sufficient. idqa of Askalon does not surrender but neither does he flee. As a result, he is deported. His cities do not surrender and because of that they get destroyed. Ekron increases the tension of battle even more by calling upon the help of Egypt. As a result of this, a bitter struggle is fought with this city “trusting in the god Ashur, my lord”. Elteke and Timna, who belong to Ekron, are destroyed, those who are responsible for the battle are killed and their corpses are publicly hanged. With Jerusalem, the order is different, probably to cover up for the fact that the success is very partial. Seeing as that Hezekiah does not bow on his own initiative, it is first mentioned that 46 of his cities are destroyed and plundered. To cover up for the fact that Hezekiah is not fleeing, his imprisonment in Jerusalem is packed in metaphors of flight, i.e. “as a bird”. To cover up for the fact that Sennacherib did not manage to dethrone Hezekiah, it is stated that his country has been made much smaller. To cover up for the fact that Sennacherib was not in a position to impose taxes on Hezekiah, the terminology of voluntary tax payment is used.183 Improvement/turn for the worse The events all entail an improvement from the perspective of the narrator. Whether this is historically correct is a different question, to which the answer lies outside the literary analysis of the text.184

Lage, ad hoc einen Feldzugsbericht nach einem bestimmten Schema niederzuschreiben, sofern ihm einige wichtige Tatsachen über die beteiligten Personen, den Ort, den Zeitpunkt, besondere Umstände und schließlich den Ausgang der Handlung—d.h. des Krieges—bekannt waren. Es besteht kein Zweifel, daß die Schreiber am assyrischen Königshof Zugang zu dieser Art von Informationen besaßen. Dabei bedienten sie sich stereotyper und klischeehafter Formulierungen. Für einzelne Aussagen standen ihnen mitunter mehrere synonyme Ausdrücke, Sätze oder Halbsätze zur Verfügung, die sie nach Belieben verwendeten.” 183 F.M. Fales, “A Literary Code in Assyrian Royal Inscriptions: The Case of Ashurbanipal’s Egyptian Campaigns”, in Fales (ed.), Assyrian Royal Inscriptions, 169–202 comes across similar events in these annals. He mentions seven: (1) the lack of respect of the enemy for treaties and pacts, (2) the enemy hears, the enemy fears (hears-fears), (3) the enemy hears, leaves, flees, (4) the enemy hears and gets ready for the battle, (5) the messenger brings news, (6) the king musters the troops and gets going, (7) the king wins the battle. 184 A. Laato, “Assyrian propaganda and the falsification of history in the royal inscriptions of Sennacherib”, elaborately goes into the differences between the inscriptions of Sennacherib and, for example, the Babylonian Chronicle He makes some interesting remarks, also for our literary analysis. And he connects the Sennacherib inscriptions

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Actors The actantial scheme is obvious, because it is explicitly present in the story (see I,10–19):

Ashur

“an unrivalled kingship” = “bowing in submission”

Sennacherib

“awesome splendor of my lordship” “the terror of the weapon of Ashur”

Sennacherib

unsubmissive and rebellious kings and officials, Ethiopia and their army

Time There are no indications of time in the text of the third campaign. In the entire prism, we find just one indication of time.185 The only temporal structure is offered by de echelons in the campaigns. The information of when these campaigns took place and how long they lasted is not shared for us. Only in the case of the seventh campaign do we hear about “the month of rain”—but this can be seen more easily as a narrative element than as an indication of time. Sennacherib is trying to explain why he is retreating without having obtained a victory: the cold of winter set in. This is also the only time that Ashur himself intervenes, because he finishes what Sennacherib himself was unable to finish: the king against which the campaign was aimed dies a natural death. Place As opposed to the indications of time, we find an abundance of indications of place. The indications of place form the structure of the text.

to the ideology of Sennacherib: divine support ensured military success and therefore, military failure could be interpreted by the population as the retrieval by the gods of their special election. This explains Sennacherib’s interest in brushing away, concealing or reinterpreting his defeats. A number of literary methods stood at his disposal to do so. Also see Levine, “Preliminary remarks”. 185 At the end of the prism, we find an indication of time on the last campaign: in the month Du’uzu of the year of the eponymy of Gahilu, that is: 689 B.C.

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Every campaign starts with the turn of phrase ina x girria ana . . . (“on my x-th campaign to . . .”) and the name of a country or region follows or the name of a king of a country or a region. The third campaign, for instance, starts with “In my third campaign, I marched against Hatti”. Hatti originally meant ‘Syria’, but in the NeoAssyrian time, it meant the entire West. This campaign carries Sennacherib to Sidon (and surroundings), Askalon (and surroundings), Elteke and Timna, Ekron and finally to Jerusalem (and surroundings). 3.4.3. The level of the story Interventions in the order of time There is only one flashback: in II,73–77 we hear that the regents and magistrates of Ekron had dethroned their king and handed him over to Hezekiah. Apart from this exception, the story is strictly chronologial.186 Outside of the context of campaign 3, we find another flashback in III,59–60, when Sennacherib brings Merodak-Baladan to the stage again, and has him tell that he beat him in the first campaign. Another one occurs in IV,32–36, where it is told that the population of Bit-Jakin had fled. Tempo The only tempo used in this text is the summary. Never are people brought to the stage speaking, so that we could speak of a scene (also see III.4.3. ‘focalizations’). Nor do we see slow-downs or pauses. At the most we could speak of ellipses, every time when we hear “The officials of Ekron had thrown Padi, their king, into fetters”, or “Hezekiah did not submit to my yoke.” How, why and when this happened is not told. In other words: Sennacherib could have also chosen to give us 186 In a narratological sense, at least. The question whether it is also true in a historical sense does not fall within the scope of this investigation, but is greatly doubted by Laato. Laato, “Assyrian propaganda”, 210–213, mentions four procedures used by Sennacherib to inflate a campaign that was not so successful. One of these is an intervention in the time perspective. Something is mentioned during a campaign as if it is a direct result of the campaign, while this is not in reality the case. For example, when it is told about Hezekiah that he sent his payment to Nineveh, while this probably did not happen till much later during the regular tax payments. Or during another campaign, when it is told that king Elam did not return. This suggests that he has been defeated once and for all. In reality, he won, but died a natural death shortly after. So indeed, he never returned.

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the occasion of the campaigns at the beginning of each campaign. He does not do this. During the campaign, it slowly becomes clear to us in bits and pieces what his motives are. This once again confirms the strictly geographic underlying principle of this text. Distribution representational time If we quantify the overview of campaign 3, the following image arises: e. aggression from the outside f. insubordination g. call for an oracle h. oracle i. battle j. divine intervention k. divine support m. new territory n. flight o. conquest cities p. plundering q. change of direction r. taxes s. construction activities t. religious measures u. government change v. deportation w. making the land smaller x. punishment y. erecting a stela

– 13 lines – – 12 lines – 3 lines – 5 lines 16 lines 4 lines – 29 lines – – 8 lines 4 lines 4 lines 4 lines –

Here, what we stated before is confirmed: Sennacherib wants to come home with profitable news: charging and paying the yearly taxes and tributes is the most important theme. Sennacherib peacefully passes by kings who pay. All others “do not bow” and are besieged. They flee and are replaced (change of policy) or they stay and are punished. Focalizations There is no external narrator in the story—all focalizations are internal. It is also a text that focalizes the same person—Sennacherib—for 99% of the text. Only sporadically do we get a peek through the eyes of

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the other characters. It is striking that these characters are expected to show just one emotion: fear.187 – II, 38–39 Lulli, the king of Sidon, the awesome splendor of my lordship overwhelmed him ( pul i melammê bēlūtia is upušuma). – II, 45–46: the terror of the weapon of Ashur, my lord, overwhelmed them (the cities) and they bowed in submission at my feet (rašubbat kakki dAššur bēlia is upušunutima). – II, 78: their heart became afraid (of the officials of Ekron). (ipla libbašun) – III, 37–38: This Hezekiah—the terrifying splendor of my lordship overwhelmed him ( pul i melammê bēlūtia is upušuma). Whenever Sennacherib himself is speaking, he is not very reticent in showing his own opinion. He frequently expresses a normative view: – II,74–77: The officials of Ekron who had thrown Padi their king— bound by oath and obligation to Assyria—into iron fetters and had handed him over to Hezekiah, the Judaean, in an hostile manner. – III,8: I slew its officials and nobles who had rebelled. Elsewhere in the text, Sennacherib is even more explicit. Especially in the seventh and eighth campaign, his terminology is especially fierce, when Umman-menanu is called a man “who possessed neither sense nor judgment” and Shuzubu “a weakling hero, who had no knees, a slave, subject to the governor of the city of Lahiri; the fugitive Arameans gathered around him, the runaway, the murderer, the bandit”188 Laato deconstructs this phenomenon by supposing that the power Sennacherib uses to emphasize that he booked a victory perhaps betrays the cost at which he obtained this victory and/or the difficulty he is having covering up a defeat. In this context, it is perhaps significant that Sennacherib simply calls Hezekiah “Hezekiah of Judah” and not “Hezekiah, king of

187 Compare to N.K. Weeks, “Causality in the Assyrian Royal Inscriptions”, OLP 14 (1983), 115–127, especially 118: “The Assyrian historians were limited in the motives they ascribed to the enemy. Fear, treachery and vain self-confidence just about covers the range of enemy motivation.” 188 Laato, “Assyrian propaganda”, 213.

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Judah”. He tends to be able to have such respect for his enemies, but apparently, Hezekiah had antagonized him too much already.189 Effects of focalizations The small amount of times that the first person in our story, Sennacherib, allowed us a peek through his colleague actors, the goal clearly is not to create a multiple perspective.190 The effect is legitimizing and literally dread-ful. Legitimizing, because the text is supposed to prove that Sennacherib can be assured of the continuous support of Ashur. Dreadful, because it is apparently the intention of the text to take away any desire of rebellion with the readers and fill them with dread. While other kings tended to alternatively use the carrot and the stick in their propaganda, Sennacherib limits himself exclusively to the stick.191 3.4.4. The level of the text Repetition of sound/play with sound The writer must have had a great love of sound and word-repetitions and metaphors. The level of the story did not offer many possibilities to express one’s literary powers: it does not fit within the ideology of the text to work with interventions in the order of time or with different focalizations. Apparently, the writer therefore applied himself to literary procedures at the level of the text.192

189 Laato, “Assyrian propaganda”, 219. He also defends this assertion in “Hezekiah and the Assyrian crisis in 701 B.C.”. 190 Cohen, “Neo-Assyrian Elements”, 39: “In the Neo-Assyrian annals, where the king himself is usually the focal point, very little attention is paid to the personalities and deeds of each of his enemies, except for such arch-ennemies as Šamaš-šumukîn and Tirhakah. The concise stereotypic phraseology describing the behaviour of Assyria’s enemies and rebellious vassals almost invariably involves the usage of the verb takālu ‘to trust’.” 191 This image derives from Van der Spek, “Cyrus de Pers in Assyrisch perspectief ”, 15. If ‘fear’ was indeed an important element in the Assyrian propaganda, then this finding adds extra depth to the text of 2 Kgs 18–19, in which ‘trust’ (‫ )בטח‬is the motif word. See the same article by Van der Spek, p. 8: “‘Trust” is not only an important concept in the prophetic literature of Israel, but also in the Assyrian. 192 Fales, “A Literary Code”, agrees with the typification of these texts as Kunstprosa. In this rather abstract article, he analyzes the procedures that were followed in various reviews of the same campaign. He finds a total of six procedures, two of which he describes as ‘literary’. This is the parallelism, a highly interesting phenomenn that he calls EEN after the combination of words ebbu-ellu-namru, een triad of two words who are similar and a third that sounds very different. Alme, akšud ašlula šallasun, “I

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Grayson tends to not view most royal inscriptions as literary texts, give or take a few exceptions.193 He mentions as literary characteristics: metaphors and comparisons, hyperboles, repetitions of words and anacoluthons (especially through the use of casus pendens). Mowinckel also did not have a high opinion of the literary content of the Assyrian royal inscriptions.194 Renger, however, does call the texts literary. Without wanting to go into the matter of the definition of what is literary and what is not, we have to conclude that the researchers seem to agree that the literary qualities of the text lie in the field of the use of words and language, at the level at the text rather than at the level of the story. Mowinckel already said: “Die Inschriften enthalten keine strenge Erzählung oder Schilderung. Sie sind Aufzählungen der gewaltigen und verdienstvollen Taten des Königs.”195 One could regard this as rhetoric, “Wortornamentik”, in Mowinckel’s words. Renger mentions the following literary style tools: use of rare words, archaic use of language, and self-invented words with Sumeric declensions, a preference for the adverbial declension “-iš” instead of the perposition “kima”, alliteration and assonance, many comparisons and metaphors and many D- and Š-stems instead of G-stems.196 Repetition of sound within the context of the third campaign: l. II, 44–45: alānišu dannūti bīt-dūrani ašar rîti ù mašqīti bīt tuklātešu ‘his strong, walled cities, where there were food and water’ l. II, 48–49: biltu mandattu bēlūtia šattišam lā ba lu (the vowel -b and -t) ‘tribute as a tax, to pay to me as lord yearly and without ceasing’ l. II, 60: iššunimma iššiqu šēpīa (the vowel -sh) ‘they brought and kissed my feet’ (moreover an onomatopoeia)

surrounded, I took, I pillaged their loot”, may also have been an example here. I have not come across this phrase elsewhere in Sennacherib’s texts. 193 A.K. Grayson, “Assyrian Royal Inscriptions”, 44: “The average commemorative text is a straightforward prose narrative of events without any distinctive literary style. But here and there one finds some special features in the royal inscriptions of a particular king.” 194 S. Mowinckel, “Die vorderasiatischen Königs- und Fürsteninschriften: Eine stilistische Studie”, in: H. Schmidt (ed.), Eucharisterion Gunkel, Göttingen 1923, 278–322. 195 Mowinckel, “Die vorderasiatischen Königs- und Fürsteninschriften”, 287. 196 Renger, “Neuassyrische Königsinschriften”, 121–127.

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l. II, 72 en III, 7: alme akšud ašlula šallasun197 ‘I besieged and captured, and carried off their spoil.’ l. III, 10–11: māri āli ēpiš anni ù gillati ana šallati amnu ‘The citizens who committed sinful acts I counted as spoil’ l. III, 15–16: ultu qereb Ursalimmu ušē amma ina kussi bēlūti elišun ušēšibma (Padi) I brought out to Jerusalem, and set him on throne as king over them III, 21–22: ina šukbus aramme ù qitrub šupi mit u zuk šēpē by bringing up siege-engines and by applying batteringrams, infantry attacks. We can no longer find out why such a style was applied. We can, however, state that this style of writing creates an image of certain beauty to the reader. While style at the level of the story frequently has the effect of increasing the tension (with interventions in the order of time) or a certain emotion (by using perspectives), this Wortornamentik seems to have the sole purpose of emphasizing the beauty of such warfare. As soldiers who speak of “the art of war”. It is a form of rhetoric which seems to have as its goal to glorify war. Repetition of words In this paragraph, we will limit ourselves to a discussion of the third campaign. An overview has been made of the themes/scenes of the entire text in the appendix ‘Structure of the Chicago prism’. Seeing as that these themes are strongly linked to certain motif words, this table gives an overview of the most important motif words. Below, there is an enumeration of words that occur more than once in the text of the third campaign.

197 This expression, which is used repetitively, is Sennacerib’s version of ‘veni, vidi, vici’. We also find variations and extensions of this formula, for example in the second campaign, in II,18–19: ‘alme, akšud, appul, aqqur, ina girri aqmu’ ‘I besieged, I took in, I broke, I destroyed, with fire I burnt down.’

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pul i melammê bēlūtia II,38; III,38 ‘the awesome splendor of my lordship’ kanāšu ‘bow down’ II,46; II,61; II,72; III,19 šēpu ‘feet’ II,46; II,60, II,71 sa āpu ‘overwhelm’ II,39; II,46, III,38 bēlūtu ‘lordship’ II,39; II,48;, II,67; III,16; III,17, III,36; III,38 šarrūtu ‘kingship’ II,47; III,40 šarru ‘king’ II,38; II,58; II,61; II,65; II,74; II,78; II,80; III,4; III,33; III,34 kussû ‘throne’ II,47; III,16 biltu ‘tribute’ II,48; II,67; III,35 mandattu ‘tax’ II,48; III,17; III,36;, III,48 kânu ēruššu ‘impose’ II,49, III,17; III,37 lamû, kašādu, šalālu II,72; III,7; III,23 ‘besiege, capture, carry off as spoil’ šalālu III,31 šallatu ‘spoil’ II,72; III,11; III,27 kašādu III,5 This overview confirms what we already found with the chapter ‘distribution of representational time’: the most important themes are ‘battle’, ‘conquest/destruction of cities’ and ‘charging taxes. Repetition of themes For this topic, we also refer to the appendix ‘Structure of the Chicago prism’. It turns out that the narrated events are linked to certain themes through the use of motif words. One gets the impression that the narrator constructed the text based on certain themes. The ideology seems to have had a very large influence on the literary structure in this manner. Intertextuality There must be many cases of intertextuality in the annals. Sadly, not all cases can be found out within the scope of this investigation. First of all, it is known that the writers of the annals used letters and lists with spoil and tribute.198 This was probably done with the 198

Grayson, “Assyrian Royal Inscriptions”, 42.

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goal of creating the suggestion of trustworthiness. The suggestion of objectivity blinds the listener to manipulation. It is also known that writers could use the numbers on the amounts of loot and subjected individuals in later reviews. We have seen above that the kings tended to take over epithets from each other. Garelli believes that this happened out of rivalry: one could not have less than the predecessors.199 We have also seen that it was a literary convention, stemming from epic literature, that a hero had to prove himself first by mentioning a number of war results.200 Then, there are many topoi that we come across throughout all annals. Grayson mentions a couple: one of them is the motif that a king conquered new territory “where no one of my ancestors had ever set a step”. Another is the way in which an enemy is “overwhelmed by the terrifying splendor of my lordship” and in which the enemy subsequently “kissing the feet of the king”.201 These forms of intertextuality served the purpose of recognition: this is how it goes; this is what is expected of a king. A king who acted in this way gained trust, or so must have been the goal of such a turn of phrase. Gallagher goes into a couple of examples of intertextuality in his research. He points at the word anzillu, for instance, “deed of dishonor”, in line II, 77. The inhabitants of Ekron committed a deed of dishonour by handing over their king Padi to Hezekiah. This is a concept that is only used by Sennacherib in the royal inscriptions and has a background in the ritual texts and in the the Legend of Etana. In this legend, the eagle and the snake forge a convent, but the eagle breaks the convent by eating the cubs of the snake. By using this word in the same context, i.e. breaking a convent, the writers add a heavy, almost religious layer to the behaviour of the inhabitants of Ekron.202

199 Garelli, “La Conception de la Royauté, 1: “C’est par rivalité qu’ils sont devenus des ‘puissant rois’ (šarru dannu), des ‘grands rois’ (šarru rabû), des ‘rois de Sumer et d’Akkad’ (šar matSumeri u Akkadiki ) et ‘des quatres régions’ (šar kibrāt erbettiti )”. 200 Tadmor, “History and Ideology”. Note that we also seemed to be able to detect this pattern with Zakkur: proving himself at the battle field first in order to be worthy of kingship. 201 Grayson, “Assyrian Royal Inscriptions”, 44–45. Also see Oded, War, Peace and Empire, 154–155. 202 Gallagher, Sennacherib’s Campaign to Judah, 120.

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In the part where the inhabitants of Ekron call on Egypt, they “are sharpening their weapons” (uša’’alu giškakkišun) at the battle at Elteke in line III, 1. According to Gallagher this expression occurs in the Enuma Eliš, where the gods that were allied with Tiamat in the battle against Marduk. “The undertones of the king fighting against the forces of chaos were thus clear to those who knew Mesopotamian literature.”203 The metaphor of Hezekiah who is locked into his city “as a bird in his cage” is also used once by king Tiglatpileser III, according to Gallagher, when he surrounds king Rezin of Damascus in 733 B.C. but does not manage to beat him.204 Excurs: the battle at Halule and references to Enūma Eliš according to Weissert Weissert analyzed the story of the eighth campaign in an article, looking for intertextual references to the Enūma Eliš-epos.205 These connections had been seen before, as he indicates himself in his article, but the question why Sennacherib especially opens a completely different, mythological register was not normally asked. One of these references is not acknowledged by Weissert, as we saw, but he still finds five other literary allusions, as he calls them l. V,18–19: describing the Babylonian enemies as gallê lemnūti, “wicked devils”, with which also Tiamat’s friends are indicated. Never had Assyrian’s enemies been demonized in such a fashion before, says Weissert. l. V,28–29: it says that the Babylonians have put Mušezib-Marduk on a throne, which is “not suited for him”: Bābilāya ana lā simātišu ina kussî ušēšibūšu. The turn of phrase ana lā simātišu is very unusual. “We are forcibly reminded of Tiamat’s appointing the lesser and unworthy Kingu as puppet ruler over the gods: in Marduk’s accusing words: ana lā simātišu taškunīš para enūti, ‘Inappropriately for him, you have installed

203 Gallagher, Sennacherib’s Campaign to Judah, 121. This reference to Enūma Eliš by Weissert in an article on intertextuality with this epos has later been said to be impossible to prove. See: E. Weissert, “Creating a Political Climate: Literary Allusions to Enūma Eliš in Sennacherib’s Account of the Battle of Halule”, in: Hauptmann en Waetzoldt, Assyrien im Wandel der Zeiten, 194 n. 18. His main argument is that Sennacherib uses this phrase in the third campaign as well and that the Assyrian audience may experience the phrase as a standard formula. It depends on how strictly one defines the concept of “literary allusion”. 204 Gallagher, Sennacherib’s Campaign to Judah, 133. 205 Weissert, “Creating a Political Climate”.

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him in the highest divine office.’ Through the adverbial phrase, common to both Sennacherib’s and Marduk’s accusations, the reader is expected to deduce the existence of a striking parallel between the Babylonians and Tiamat, between Mushezib-Marduk and Kingu, and finally, between the earthly royal throne of Babylon and the mythic office of divine sovereignty.”206 l. V,66–67: the word urru iš, “quickly” is a third reference. In this form, the word does not occur in the royal inscriptions (the word ar iš does occur, for instance, in II,71), but it does occur in Enūma Eliš: kišād Tiamat urru iš takabbas attā, “you will quickly trample the neck of Tiamat”. In the prism it says: suppê a urru iš išmû illikū rēšūtī, “They—the gods—quickly gave ear to my prayers and came to my aid”. The common adverb links the alarmed state of Sennacherib and his divine supporters with the impatience of Anshar to send Marduk into battle.”207 l. V,71–72: The fourth reference is made up of the weapon that Sennacherib receives from Ashur. Sennacherib calls this weapon pāri’ napšāti, “the piercer of throats”. In the Enuma Elish, it is said unto Marduk: alikma ša Tiamat napšatuš puru’ma “go and pierce the throat of Tiamat”. Except for the remarkable combination of words napištam pārā u, the fact that both receive the weapon from the god is an important “reference marker”, according to Weissert, a sign of an intentional reference. l. V, 68–69: The last reference can be found in the sentence that contains the description of the helmet on Sennacherib’s head. The archaic word rāšu for ‘head’ is used instead of the usual rēšu. “By now it should not surprise us anymore that the same form appears in the verse of Enūma Eliš, in which the fighting god Marduk is described as crowned with a terrifying awe-inspiring radiance: melammi rašubbati apir rāšuššu.”208 Weissert asks himself the question why Sennacherib (or his writer) chooses this exceptional mythological register. The battle at Halule was, according to the Babylonion Chronicle, a victory for the Babylonians. We can suppose that the truth lies somewhere in the middle:

206 207 208

Weissert, “Creating a Political Climate”, 193–194. Weissert, “Creating a Political Climate”, 194. Weissert, “Creating a Political Climate”, 195.

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that Sennacherib was not able to achieve his goal, but was capable of conquering Babylon (689) in the two following years as a result of this battle (691). It is also striking that the tone becomes less and less mythological in later inscriptions. According to Weissert, it seems as if, at the time of the erection of this inscription, Sennacherib found it necessary to prepare the minds in Assyria for the destruction of Babylon by means of such demonization: “Hence one might suggest that the demonic portrait of the Babylonians, although sketched in the account of the campaign’s first stage (Halule), actually expresses the intense and zealous atmosphere prevailing close to, and during, its last (the siege of Babylon); the mythic presentation of the past events of Halule served in effect to create the right political climate in Assyria for the impending materialization of Sennacherib’s horrendous plans; and that the passionate rhetoric became superfluous once Babylon had been sacked, and the frustration nd hatred felt towards her stubborn inhabitants had found their outlet in the final victory.”209 Metaphors The Neo-Assyrian writers especially applied themselves to the use of metaphors.210 In the annals of Sennacherib we find metaphor relating to himself as wise shepherd, the harness that brings in line and ‘he who strikes with the thunderbolt’. Metaphors relating to the deity Ashur are rare, such as the great mountain. We find many metaphors from the animal world to describe the actions of the enemies when fleeing: the flee like the bat, the bird of the cave, they fly far oof into the midst of the sea and are being shut up like caged birds. We frequently see meteorological images the war scenes (storm, hurricane, mist, clouds) and images from the animal world and from agriculture. I also count the manifold use of the word ‘yoke’ for lordship of Ashur among the latter category.

209

Weissert, “Creating a Political Climate”, 202. Grayson, “Assyrian Royal Inscriptions”, 45: “The Assyrian scribes love similes and metaphors.” Zie ook: D. Marcus, “Animal Similes in Assyrian Royal Inscriptions”, Or 46 (1977), 86–106. 210

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Structure For the structure of the Chicago prism, please see the appendix of that name. 3.4.5. The theology/ideology of the text Focalization of the king The ideology in our text is explicitly present, as we have seen before. Especially with respect to the king, even the introduction leaves no doubt. Sennacherib is “the great king, the mighty king, de king of the four quarters, de favourite of the gods etc.”. On the one hand, he guards the truth, he loves justice, he offers help, to the weak (domestic policy), on the other hand he is the perfect hero, the mighty man, the first of all kings, the harness, striking with thunderbolts (foreign policy). These same sides that we also saw with Kulamuwa: strong on the outside, caring towards the inside. His reign is anchored in the decision of the god Ashur. Ashur has made anyone who does not acknowledge his reign bow, or has made them flee. Says the introduction (l. I, 1–19). Valuation of the war Little is said about the war explicitly. Implicitly, one gets the impression that Sennacherib regards the war as a political-legal instrument.211 All Sennacherib has to show is the effectiveness of his war craft. In other words: there is no moral valuation of the war, only an instrumental one.212

211 Von Soden, “Die Assyrer und der Krieg”, points out that since Tukulti-Ninurta I (1246–1209) the god Ashur increasingly becomes the national/empire god. It is striking that we do not come across Ashur in names of persons except in names of kings. In daily life, the names of Nabu, Shamash and Adad were much more important. See p. 136: “Damit gewinnt die assyrische Kriegsideologie ihre eigentümliche juridische Ausprägung, die sich in dieser Weise m.W. bei den anderen Völkern dieser Zeit nicht findet.” 212 Compare to Van der Spek, “Assyriology and History”, 266: “The Assyrian king needed justification for individual wars. We know from the royal inscriptions as well as from direct evidence that the Assyrian kings asked permission from the gods for individual campaigns. In principle an Assyrian king could not fight against another state if that state had a treaty and abided by it. Thus if the Assyrian king wanted to attack, he had at least to prove that the treaty was first broken by the opponent. But the option of war as such was never questioned in principle. This is borne out by the ancient religion as well.”

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The legal framework of Sennacherib’s actions demands that his acts of war contain a certain preventive component, as we have seen. In other words, examples have to be set now and again. Effect of the valuation of the war on the valuation of the king Van der Spek has argued that the three factors underlying of Roman imperialism are also true for the Assyrian version: the factor of ‘forward defence’ (the need for buffer states out of fear of Aramean invasions), the factor of economic motives (Assyria did not dispose of wood and metal minerals) and lastly, the factor of internal social relations. The latter is of most importance to us: just like Caesar had to confirm his power with respect to an oligarchy of influential families, the Assyrian king always had to watch his opposition. The power of the king may have been absolute, but it was not self-evident and the king had to prove his legitimacy.213 And seeing as that divine election was tied into military success so tightly, the successful war was the most unambiguous confirmation of the king’s legitimacy. The shadow side of this story was that the defeat, especially, was very threatening to the position of the king.214 This is why he spent such a great deal of energy into turning around failures into seeming success stories.215 According to Laato, he disposed of four methods to do so: leaving out facts, combining two facts while suggesting they correspond to each other (a—lost—battle with the—natural—death of the opponent after a short period of time),216 the blowing up of results without mentioning them concretely and depicting an opponent extra negatively.217

213

Van der Spek, “Het Assyrische Imperialisme”, 15. Laato, “Assyrian propaganda”, 200: “Unsuccessful military campaigns were regarded as strong indications that the king was no longer favoured by gods. The king thus fell under the threat of losing the divine right to his kingship in the eyes of his people.” 215 Vogt, Der Aufstand, 28: “ein Meisterstück der Tatsachenverschleierung”. 216 Notice that 2 Kgs 19:37 in fact applies the same method: the murder of Sennacherib is regarded as the immediate result of the besiegement of Jerusalem, suggesting a causal relationship between both events. 217 Laato, “Assyrian propaganda”, 211–213. In an article on propaganda in the Kosovo war in De Volkskrant of April 29, 1999, seven methods are listed that are used these days, showing remarkable similarities: slandering the opponent (‘dictator’), using euphemism for own deeds (‘collateral damage’), ascribing prestige (‘precision bombing’), ascribing authority, smart selection of facts, reaching out to the citizens (showing farm life on Serbian television) and feigning solidarity (‘all members of NATO’). 214

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Focalization of the gods The gods, in casu mostly Ashur, play a relatively marginal role in the story.218 Ashur takes up the classical position of destinateur, the person who enables Sennacherib to realize his goals. This goal is, as we have seen, “an unrivalled kingship”. He does this, as becomes clear from the introduction, by “making the weapons of Sennacherib more powerful”. Ashur hardly appears, let alone interferes. In this sense, we could speak of a civil religion, a religion which only serves a worldly goal but does not have any further influence on the acts of people.219 Sennacherib ascribes to Ashur the function of a trust-giving strength in the background. There is one case during which Ashur seems to intervene, when Sennacherib has to interrupt his seventh campaign because the cold of winter is setting in. The king of Elam dies a natural death shortly thereafter. Sennacherib ascribes these events to Ashur’s doing. This also resembles a civil religion, with inexplicable events being identified as an act of God.220

218 See B. Nevling Porter, “What the Assyrians Thought the Babylonians Thought about the Relative Status of Nabû and Marduk in the Late Assyrian Period”, in: Parpola en Whiting (eds.), Assyria 1995, 253–261, especially 257: “The inscriptions of Sennacherib, Sargon’s successor, are more secular and thus less informative. In distinction to Sargon, whose inscriptions routinely report of almost every campaign that he was called to war by the gods Aššur, Nabû and Marduk, Sennacherib’s inscriptions stress the role of human actors in determining the outcome of military encounters and make relatively few references to any intervention of gods in human affairs.” 219 Compare to Liverani’s remark, “The Ideology”, 301: “The inclusion of the imperialistic ideology within the general framework of values of the Assyrian society, brings about what is generally termed its religious character. This character has been emphasized by many, but not always adequately. Conceptual habits prevailing in the scholars’ world have tended to lead scholars to treat the religious sphere as if it were autonomous, only to realize quickly that this sphere is in fact an integral part of the political sphere (‘sacred’ kingship, ‘holy’ war, etc.). I believe on the contrary that if we consider the divinities and the acts of cult as hypostatic expressions of social values, the problems vanishes. The ‘holiness’ of a war cannot result from an analysis, since indeed there cannot be a ‘lay’ war. The war is always a holy one if fought by us, always a wicked one if fought by the enemy; therefore ‘holy’ means only that it answers our social values, it means Assyrian. A king is not legitimate because of the approval of the god Assur; a king, while he rules in Assyria, is always legitimate, and his legitimacy is expressed in religious terms (in fact the less obvious it is, the more it is emphasized).” Although we largely agree with this remark by Liverani, it is to generalizing on the whole. 220 Compare to Weeks, “Causality”, 116: “The most surprising and interesting exception is that there is no reference to immediate divine intervention once battle has actually been joined between the Assyrians and the enemy. In the great battle descriptions, where the plain is strewn with corpses and the gullies run red with the

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The only exception to what was stated above is the story of the last campaign. This story shows us the other end of the spectrum. No less than eight gods come out of hiding: Ashur, Sin, Shamash, Bel, Nabu, Nergal, Ishtar of Nineveh and Ishtar of Arbela. We hear that Sennacherib prays to them and that they “hastened to hear my prayers”. We hear that Ashur gives the bow and arrow into Sennacherib’s hands (V,62–78). Liverani’s deconstruction here is probably correct: “in fact the less obvious it [the king’s legitimacy] is, the more it is emphasized.”221 Sennacherib had something to explain, his out-of-proportionally harsh acts against Babylon. It is perhaps not without reason that he mentions a number of gods from the shared pantheon (Sin, Shamash, Bel, Nabu, Nergal), including Bel = Marduk, the god of Babylon! Van der Spek notes that the Assyrian kings thought they were supported by the gods of other peoples when they were conquering those other peoples.222 Compare, for example to 2 Kings 18:25: “Is it without the Lord that I have come up against this place to destroy it?” In the article mentioned before, Weeks poses the statement that fighting was originally a task for the gods and that the king had building as his assignment. This is confirmed by what we have seen with the stone of Mesha. The Assyrian kings, however, increasingly took over the task of fighting from the gods and were left with the problem of what role they should ascribe to the gods.223 Relationship between divine and human activity From what has been stated above, it will by now be clear that gods interfere with war from a distance. Ashur is the strength in the background. Admittedly, it is said about him that he makes Sennacherib’s

gore of the enemy, we are told of the king’s might rather than that of the gods. Where the enemy surrenders or flees before the battle then the historian may give the credits to the gods.” 221 Liverani, “The Ideology”, 301. 222 Van der Spek, “Cyrus de Pers”, 6. Also compare to the Stela of Esarhaddon, which was found in Zinçirli, on which he is depicted in a manner comparable to Kulamuwa, with symbols of various gods, including Marduk. 223 Weeks, “Causality”, 124: “The gods appoint a king to rule the people and to build their temples. That role is expanded to include that of subduing the gods’ enemies. What is there left for the gods to do if their appointee effectively does their work for them?” The development may have been set in motion, says Weeks, because the loot of war was brought in at the temple.

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weapons powerful, and that Sennacherib trusts on him, but he does not play a very active role. We have seen that Sennacherib mostly has to prove himself that he is a artful strategist and that it will only be possible to determine whether Ashur supported him based on his success later, after the end of the war. Theology/ideology of the text In conclusion, we can state that the ideology of the annals of Sennacherib is an imperialist ideology. The function of this ideology is to confirm the empire and the emperor. The god Ashur, has brought “black-headed people” (empire) in submission to the feet of this “great king” (emperor). The propaganda is aimed at two sides: at the outsiders of the subjected peoples and at the insiders of the people of Assyria.224 The subjected peoples had to be robbed of any desires to rebel, the own people had to stay motivated to lend their support to their king and his war plans. Liverani has composed an interesting “grammar of imperialist ideologies” in the article mentioned before.225 His basic thought is that every imperialist ideology (whether it is the Assyrian, Roman or colonial one) is a “systematization of unbalance” is. There is always a centre that benefits from the transfer of goods from the periphery to this centre. As an aside, the internal dynamics of an empire is always such that the centre becomes bigger and bigger and that the empire gets blown up from the inside: in the Roman empire, increasingly more inhabitants received the right of a civilian, in the Assyrian empire, deported individuals were proudly “counted as part of the empire” with the unintended effect that Arameans and other “allochtones” formed part

224 Compare to Saggs, The Encounter, 84: “The various instances of evil mentioned in these phrases refer to particular offences against the god Ashur in the form of opposition to the military might of Assyria, which clearly supports the view that Ashur had a plan in history for Assyrian imperialism, and that any opposition to Assyria was an impiety against him.” 225 See Liverani, “The Ideology”. He illustrates the reconstruction of the ideology by using motif words (for example kanāšu, ‘to bow’, and sa āpu, to subject), all the while finding observations comparable to the ones we find in our appendix ‘Structure of the Chicago prism’, in which we also point at such important motifs as ‘flight’, ‘taxes’ (transfer of goods), ‘change in policy’, ‘tredding new territory’, and ‘erecting a stela’. Also see the discussion of Liverani in chapter 1.

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of the establishment after one or two generations, and something similar happened in the colonial period. In principle, this transfer of goods is not voluntary. This is the “unbalance” mentioned by Liverani. The task of the ideology is to motivate people to make the transfer anyway, by designing a view of the world in which such a transfer is regarded as natural. For example, it is part of the divine order that all peoples are subjected to the king of Ashur. Anyone who opposes this situation opposes the divine order, as we have seen. But the arguments go further than that. The periphery is represented as chaos (it is intangible, it does not have a name: lā nībi) and the centre is represented as the cosmos. The stela erected by the king really marks the end of the world. In the annals, we can see that the further a campaign leads the army away from home, the wilder the descriptions of the landscape. One should not think that the centre is coming to ‘get’ something, but rather the centre comes to bring something, this something being ‘order’. See all the organizational measures in the annal we researched. The periphery receives a number (manû) and a name (nabû); in short, it is integrated as a part of the cosmos. Likewise, there is a ‘natural’ difference between people. The people in the periphery are uncivilized. They are hostile (nakru), they speak unintelligible languages (atme lā mit urti ), they commit rebellion and they sin ( i u, arnu, gillatu). Metaphors of hunting add to the suggestion that we do not really have to do with real people at all. These ‘people’ should disappear by death or by flight. But eventually, the centre brings ‘civilization’; it rebuilds ruined cities and integrates these half-people into the centre. They are counted as Assyrians now: itti nīše Aššur manû. It is also striking about an imperialist ideology that ‘raw materials’ always come from the periphery, while the refinement and processing is done by the centre.

phrases

column: campaign:

šakānu dabdê (bringing about a defeat) sa āpu vs kanāšu (overwhelm vs bow) pul i melammê (the awesome splendor) 2. flight ezēbu, abātu II N (leave, flee) ašru, dadmū (place, dwelling) i ūru, parāšu (bird, fly) 3. plundering narkabtu, sīsû, parû (chariot, horse, donkey) šallatiš manû (count as spoil) urā u, kaspu, abnu (gold, silver, stone) 4. conquest ālānī dannūti bīt durāni cities (fortified, walled, cities) ālānī e ruti ša limētišunu (small cities in the neighbourhood) alme akšud ašlula šallasun (I surrounded, captured, plundered) abbul akkur ina girri akmume (I destroyed, ruined, burnt with fire) 5. taxes tāmartu kabittu (a heavy gift) ma āru (receive) And the same motif words as in scene 3

1. battle

scene

72–74 77–78

36–38

54–57

19–22

75–76

25–35 39–53

33–35

16–19

12–14

23–24 59

II 15 16

2

20–22 58

I 1

50–60

41–45 68–72

61–64

40

36–39 45–46 73–83, 1–5

3

41–49

6–7 18–23

24–27

27–30

37–41

III

69–71

66–69

56–57 59–65

50–56

4

11–12

75–79

80–81

5

3.4.6. The structure of the Chicagoprism

26, 29–31

26–28

23–25

1–11 18–22

IV

44–46

32–36

37–43 46–53

6

55–80

7

4–5 1–16

1–3

V

25–26

17–80

8

27–31

16–27 31–35

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6. punishpagrišun ālul 59–60 ment (I hung their corpses) 7. change of abātu ana eššūti 61–64 regime (reorganize) abātu ana āl birtūti (making a fort) Changing city-name, dethroning king. 8. new terultu ullâ (of old) ritory abia (my father) 9. deportnišī mātāti ušēšib ation (the peoples of the countries I settled) nasā u (deport) 10. erecting narâ ušēpišma a stela (making a stela) 11. change of pān nīria utirma direction (the direction of my yoke I turned) a abat arrānu ana (I took the road to) 12. making the u a ir māssu land smaller (I made his land small) abtuqma . . . uraddi (I cut off . . . I added to) 13. imposing biltu mandattu bēlūtia ukin taxes ērrussu (a tribute as gift to me als lord, I imposed on him) 14. religious ina emūq/tukulti dAššur 35–36 phrases (by the power of Ashur) d Aššur utakkilanni (Ashur encouraged me) ina qibīt dAššur (at the order of Ashur) 65

34

65–71

31–34

17, 35–36

23–26

48–49, 67 1

12–16

61

47, 65–66

10–11

7–10

1–7, 32

27–31

81–82

8–11

50

57–58

71–74

13–14

15–17

54 11

81–88

62–78

1–15

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chapter three 3.5. Prophecies for Esarhaddon 3.5.1. Introduction to the prophecies

Translation Text edition and translation: – S. Parpola, Assyrian Prophecies, (SAA vol. IX), Helsinki 1997 Translation: A. (K 4310 I 5’–30’): M.H.E. Weippert, “Nieuwassyrische profetieën”, in: Veenhof (ed.), Schrijvend Verleden, 284–289, especially p. 285 ANET, 449–450 Weippert, “Heiliger Krieg”, 473–474 B. (K 4310 III 7’–IV 35’): M. Weippert, “Die Bildsprache der neuassyrischen Prophetie”, in: H. Weippert, K. Seybold, M. Weippert, Beiträge zur prophetischen Bildsprache in Israel und Assyrien, Freiburg 1985, 55–93, especially pp. 58–59 Weippert “Nieuwassyrische profetieën”, 285–286 ANET, 450 A. K 4310 I 4’–27’ (1) [ Esarhadd]on, king of the lands! (2) [ F]ear [not]! (3) [ W ]hat wind has risen against you, whose wings I have not broken? (4) Your enemies, like ripe apples they roll before your feet. (5) I am the great Lady. (6) I am Ishtar of Arbela, who cast your enemies before your feet. (7) What words have I spoken to you, that you could not rely upon? (8) I am Ishtar of Arbela. (9) Your enemies I flay and I give them to you. (10) I am Ishtar of Arbela. (11) I shall go before you and behind you. (12) Fear not! (13) You are in a state of paralysis, (14) but I will rise in the midst of distress and sit down.226

226 After a single line without breaks, it says, as some sort of a colophon: “From Issar-la-tashiya of Arbela.”

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B. K 4310 III 7’–IV 35’ (1) I am Ishtar of [Arbela]! (2) Esarhaddon, king of A[ssyria], (3) in the cities Libb ali,227 Nineveh, Calah and Arbela I will give Esarhaddon, my king, long days and everlasting years. (4) Yo[ur] great midwife I am, (5) Your good nurse I am. (6) For long days and everlasting years I have established your throne under the great heavens. (7) In a chamber of gold, in the middle heaven,228 I watch. (8) The lamp of amber229 I will light for Esarhaddon, king of Assyria. (9) Like the crown on my head I will watch him. (10) Fear not, king! (11) I have spoken230 to you, (12) I have not deceived you. (13) I have encouraged you,231 (14) I will not let you come to shame. (15) I will help you to cross the river safely. (16) Esarhaddon, legitimate heir, son of Mullissu: (17) With an angry dagger in my hand I will annihilate your enemies. (18) Esarhaddon, king of Assyria: cup of lye, axe of two shekels.232 (19) Esarhaddon, (20) in Libb ali I will give you long days and everlasting years. (21) Esarhaddon,

227

Literally ‘Inner city’, a synonym for the city of Ashur. Parpola, Assyrian Prophecies, CV note 248, shows parallels from which we can tell that people frequently thought in terms of three (sometimes seven) heavens. The divine throne was the middle one out of the three. We therefore translate “in the middle of heaven” with “in the middle heaven”. 229 Parpola, Assyrian Prophecies, CV note 249, translates the word elmešu as ‘amber’. This word is etymologically related to ‫ חשׁמל‬and is said to derive from a word in the Baltic language: helmes. The LXX also translated ‫ חשׁמל‬with ‘ηλε ρον. See for example Ez. 1:4 and 27. 230 Or: ‘I entrusted it to you’. See Parpola, Assyrian Prophecies, 7. The form aq ībak can go back either on the verb qabû, ‘to speak’, or on the verb qiāpu, ‘to entrust’. 231 Or: ‘I gave you an encouragement oracle’. Says: M. Dijkstra, Gods Voorstelling: Predikatieve expressie van zelfopenbaring in Oudoosterse teksten en Deutero-Jesaja (diss.), Kampen 1980, 154. 232 Weippert, “Die Bildsprache”, 59 states that pāšē (side) is a better interpretation than šiqil (sheqel), seeing as that two sheqel is obviously a very low weight, it would not exactly strengthen the image. Parpola, Assyrian Prophecies, 8, however, states that this interpretation is not possible and thinks that sheqel does not refer to the weight but to the price, so that it says “an expensive axe”. 228

428 (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29)

chapter three In Arbela I am your good shield. Esarhaddon, le[gitimate] heir, son of Mul[lissu]. I am mindful of you. I have loved you very much. By your lock of hair I hold you in the great heavens. On your right side I make smoke rise, on your left side I kindle fire. The kingship ove[r . . . is] str[ong].

C. K 2401 III 16’–IV 30’ (1) The word of Ishtar of Arbela (2) to Esarhaddon, king of Assyria. (3) As if I did not do or give you anything! (4) Did I not bend the four doorposts of Assyria and did I not give them to you?233 (5) Did I not defeat your enemy? (6) Did I not collect your haters and foes [like but]terflies? (7) [As for yo]u, what have you given to me? (8) [There is no fo]od for my banquet, as if there were 234 no temple. (9) I [am deprived] of my food, (10) I am d[ep]rived of my cup. (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16)

233

I am waiting for it. I have cast my eye upon it. Veritably, establish a one-seah bowl of food, and a one-seah flagon of sweet beer. Let me get and put in my mouth vegetables and soup, Let me fill the cup and drink from it,

Parpola, Assyrian Prophecies, 26, explains this expression as the four centres of the cult of Ishtar—Ashur, Nineveh, Kalah and Arbela (see text B, l. 3)—that played a determining role in the battle because of their support of Esarhaddon. 234 Parpola, Assyrian Prophecies, 26, states that the construction ša ak lā here is a hapax and therefore it is not certain that this is the correct expression. One would expect akī ša. The suppression of the -i in akī could be explained as the apocopate form. The construction could be explained based on the play with sounds. See below for the discussion of the game with sounds.

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(17) and let me restore my charms. (two lines are missing)235 (18) Let me [. . . . . .] get, (19) [ let me] go [. . . . . .] (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25)

I went up [. . . . . .] and arranged [a fea]st. [ When] I [was there, they said:] [We know] that you are Ishtar [of Ar]bela. I set out [for As]syria to see yo[ur success], to tread the mountains [with my feet] [and to spe]ak about Esarhaddon.

(26) [ No]w rejoice, Esarhaddon! (27) [ The four doorpos]ts of Assyria [ I have be]nt and given to you. (28) yo[ur enemy] I have defeated. (29) [The mood of the people] who stand with you, has been turned upside down. (30) [ From] this you will see [that] I am [ Ishtar of ] Arbela. (31) [As soon as the traitors] have been dragged hereto, they will be on the right] and on the left side to bear [ punishment]. (32) [As for the cour]tiers and palace [personnel who] rebelled [against] you, [ I have sur]rounded them and impaled them by their teeth236, 237 On the state of the material The text corpus of Neo-Assyrian prophecies contains 28 texts from the time of Esarhaddon (681–669 B.C.) and Ashurbanipal (668– approximately 630 B.C.) and is therefore from Nineveh. Actually: the 235 A new column starts here, column IV. Parpola, Assyrian Prophecies, 26, thinks that the text continues, given the precatives at the end of the one colomn and at the beginning of the other. It seems to me that an additional argument, not mentioned by him, can be found in the seqence of nine words in l. 4–6 and 27–28, which correspond exactly to each other. It is true, though, that Parpola did partially reconstruct l. 27–28 based on l. 4–6. 236 Parpola, Assyrian Prophecies, 27, states that the meaning of this turn of phrase is unclear to him. The fate of these lads does not sound very festive, even if the turn of phrase šinnišunu assakanšunu “I impaled by their teeth” seems to correspond to l. 20, isinnu assakan, “I arranged a feast”. 237 After a lacuna of two lines, we find fragments of the colophon in the five lines below: “[Lā-dāgil-i ]li, a prophet of [Arbela prophesied this when . . .] Ishtar [. . .]”

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people addressed lived there, and so the texts were found there, but they were written in such cities as Arbela and Kalah. Of 28 prophetic texts, eight are part of a single tablet, while the other twenty were passed on through four compiled tablets.238 One of the prophecies on compiled tablet 3 (that also contains our text C) may hold the answer to the question why such texts were kept at all. In the post scriptum to the third oracle, it says that it is a ‘covenant tablet’ ( uppi adê) that should be read in the presence of the king. Parpola thinks that these prophecies played a role in Esarhaddon’s crowning ceremony, potentially also at the New Year’s reception “to impress on the audience the divine support for Esarhaddon’s kingship.”239 The state of the material varies. Most prophecies have been passed on in good state. In total, there are eleven clay tablets that are currently kept at the British Museum. The reason that we selected three prophecies is purely practical: at the beginning of this research project, these three prophecies were the most accessible and most well-documented because of Weippert’s publications. Now that good quality editions of the other 25 texts are available because of Parpola’s publication, it might be interesting to subject those texts, which are in an excellent state, to a similar analysis. Incidentally, we do not have the impression that the overall image would change radically: the texts all have a rather comparable rhetoric structure. Historical background It is frequently regarded strange that in a culture in which ‘technical’ forms of divination were dominant, such as astrology and inspection of livers,240 we suddenly come across ‘spontaneous’ forms of divination, in casu prophecy, at the time of Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal. In the past, prophecy was frequently regarded as a predominantly West-Semitic phenomenon. The causes of the sudden rise of this phenomenon in the Neo-Assyrian Empire were sought in the Aramaization

238

See Parpola, Assyrian Prophecies, LIII. The single prophecies are written on horizontal tablets that were used for short messages or memoranda. The compiled tablets or uppu’s have a vertical form with two or three colomns and were destined to be archived. 239 Parpola, Assyrian Prophecies, LXIV. 240 See S. Parpola, Letters from Assyrian and Babylonian Scholars (SAA vol. X), Helsinki 1993, speaks of the disciplines: astrology, magic, divination and mystic philosophy.

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of the Assyrian society.241 Another fact that makes one wonder is that Esarhaddon’s mother Naqia (Zakūtu, translated in Akkadian) was an Aramaic princess.242 We know that she was the one who was of great support to Esarhaddon in the eventful period between the moment Esarhaddon was appointed heir by Sennacherib and the moment that he actually rose to the throne in Nineveh. The first prophecies stem from this period. On top of that, a number of the prophecies are addressed to Naqia. In the text K 4310 V 12–25, for example, we read that she apparently accused Ishtar of Arbela of not doing anything for her son: “But you made my own off-spring roam the steppe”. Ishtar encourages the king (crown prince at that time) in a prophecy addressed to the queen-mother: “Now fear not, my king! The kingdom is yours, yours is the power!”243 Many scholars have pointed out that there was a remarkable increase in the influence of religion at the court during the time of last three kings.244 Van der Toorn connects this religious tendency to the instability and inner insecurity of the regime in this period.245

241 Says Weippert, “Assyrische Prophetien”, 104. Parpola, Assyrian Prophecies, XIV, considers the prophecy an indiginous element of the Neo-Assyrian religion and therefore finds the theory of “import from the West” “untenable” and “to be emphatically rejected.” 242 Veenhof, Geschichte, 224. Zakūtu may have been from Babylon, but she nevertheless had an Aramaic background. It is also striking that Esarhaddon, when he fled, went to the West, to Aramaic grounds, rather than to Babylon. See Garelli, “Les sujets”, 196 note 26, who sees this as an argument against the hypothesis that Esarhaddon belonged to a pro-Babylonian party. The position and influence of Naqia was recently de-mythologized by S.C. Melville, The Role of Naqia/Zakutu in Sargonid Politics (SAAS IX), Helsinki 1999. She concludes that there is no reason to suspect that Naqia was the driving force behind Esarhaddon’s appointment as crown prince. Nor does she think that the image of Esarhaddon as a weak king ‘ruled’ by his mother was correct. Quite to the contrary, Naqia was the only one whose loyalty Esarhaddon could absolutely count on. Melville speculates that he gave her an important position so that she could keep an eye on things in his absence. A role that she fulfilled with a passion after the death of Sennacherib and again after the death of Esarhaddon, when there were issues surrounding the succession to the throne. These are the two periods that she prominently stepped into the foreground. 243 Weippert, “Nieuwassyrische profetieën”, 286 and “Assyrische Prophetien”, 96. 244 On the other hand, B. Nevling Porter, “What the Assyrians Thought”, 257 says: “The inscriptions of Sennacherib, Sargon’s successor, are more secular”. A phenomenon we also observed in 3.4. 245 K. van der Toorn, “L’oracle de victoire comme expression prophétique au procheorient ancient”, RB 44 (1987), 63–97. On p. 91, he writes: “Si la mantique ‘inspirée’ était normalement tenue à l’écart de la religion officielle, comment expliquer la floraison, aussi momentanée qu’elle fût, sous le règne de Zimri-Lim à Mari et d’Assarhaddon et d’Assurbanipal en Assyrie? Il y a de bonnes raisons pour supposer que cela tient

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The most important cause for the great impact of the prophets at the time of Esarhaddon, however, should be sought in the aforementioned precarious situation at the time of his rise to the throne. The fact that Esarhaddon, the youngest son, was suddenly appointed heir by Sennacherib was held against him by his brothers, so that he had to flee. Sennacherib was murdered by the ‘dethroned’ crown prince Arda-Mulissu, after which Esarhaddon returned to Nineveh with an army and took over power. As it turns out, there was a fortune-teller who made the twofold prediction that Esarhaddon would become king ánd that he would rebuild Babylon.246 Indeed, it is striking that Esarhaddon radically abandoned his father’s policy with respect to Babylon in favour of a more reconciliatory policy.247 One of the oldest prophecies of the corpus stems exactly from this time. This text (K 2401 II 10–32) starts with: “Now then, these traitors provoked you, had you banished, and surrounded you; but you opened your mouth: ‘Hear me, o Ashur!’ I heard your cry.”248 There are more indications for the premise that Esarhaddon was led by his religious convictions in his political decision-making.249 As an aside, Van der Toorn notes that his attitude with respect to the prophecies and oracles remained

à la précarité, l’instabilité de leur règne.” And Garelli, “Les sujets”, 210 even calls Esarhaddon: “Cet esprit angoissé et scrupuleux, entouré de devins et d’experts, qui lui imposaient de lourdes obligations religieuses.” We also refer to the articles by Von Soden that were touched upon to in the previous paragraph: “Religiöse Unsicherheit” and the nuanced version of his statement by Pongratz-Leisten, Herrschaftswissen. 246 Parpola, “The murderer of Sennacherib”. 247 Van der Spek, “Cyrus de Pers”, 17. Also see B. Landsberger, Brief des Bischofs von Esagila an König Asarhaddon, Amsterdam 1965. As an aside, both Parpola, “The murderer of Sennacherib” and Landsberger think that Esarhaddon’s love for Babylon was not very deep. Both refer to the fact that Esarhaddon starts of being very friendly vis-à-vis Babylon, continues to show very little initiative throughout a couple of years and by the end of his reign once again works on Esagila and the return of statues of the gods. Landsberger thinks that Esarhaddon mostly wanted to gain support at the beginning of his reign, Parpola supposes that the oracle played a role. A striking conjunction of Mercury (symbolic of crown prince Arda-Mulissu) and Saturn (symbolic of the king), with Mercury drowning out Saturn’s light, made the astrologers predict the murder as well as the disappearance of Mercury/the crown prince. Esarhaddon was to become king ánd rebuild Babylon. See p. 179: “There is no evidence that Esarhaddon ever intended to rebuild Babylon before he received the omen in question; but after it had become publicly known, how could he have adopted any other policy?” 248 Weippert, “Nieuwassyrische profetieën” 284–285 en “Assyrische Prophetien”, 93–94. 249 See, for the horrible rituals surrounding the substitute king and the absurd religious reign of fear by the royal authorized representative Mar-Ištar in Babylon: Landsberger, Brief des Bischofs, 38–57.

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rather ambivalent. In treaties, Esarhaddon has his vassals promise that they will not listen to the opinion of the raggimu, (prophet), the ma û, (extaticus) or the mār šā ili amat ili (a type of medium, literally: he who asks for the divine word).250 Once again, this is a paradox that we may be able to deconstruct based on its internal psychological dynamic: did Esarhaddon want to prevent his vassals from ascribing authority to someone other than himself exactly because he himself ascribed such a great deal of authority to religious advisors? Genre The prophecies are not narrative texts. This raises some methodological problems in our analysis. Nonetheless, the genre, theme and Sitz im Leben of this text justify our decision to include this special text in our research. The main reason is that the prophecies are of the same type as the prophecies in the Old Testament: spontaneous divine indications; originating from outside the circles of the court and therefore not royal inscriptions; addressed at the king and spoken by men and women that were approximately contemporaries of Isaiah.251 The good news oracles show a striking similarity to Isaiah’s prophecy for Hezekiah in Isaiah 37:21–35. The prophecies were revealed to a total of thirteen persons, nine women (among which two ‘without sex’, perhaps ‘eunuchs’) and four men. They were given by various gods, but Ishtar of Arbela takes up a prominent position among these gods. Apart from her, we also find Mulissu (the Assyrian name for Ninlil), Nabu and Bel (Marduk).

250

Van der Toorn, “L’oracle de victoire”, 89. Holladay, “Assyrian Statecraft and the Prophets of Israel”, offers an interesting theory. He supposes that the rise of the written prophecies around 750 B.C. has something to do with a changing role for the prophets. Prophets regarded themselves as ‘ambassadors’ of the ‘great king’ (God), who communicated his will to the vassal (the earthly king). The message by the prophet is addressed strictly to the king at this time, as are the messages of many ambassadors. In Assyrian politics, a tendency exists to hold not the king but the entire people responsible for the policies of the country. Increasingly, not the king but the entire people is deported. Not the king, but the entire people are addressed by diplomats (compare 2 Kgs 18–19!) Simultaneously, the prophets increasingly regarded themselves as being sent not just to the king but to the people as a whole. If we disregard the reconstruction, which we could criticize on several accounts, the image of the prophet as an ‘ambassador’, part of a higher, divine court, is interesting enough to keep in mind during the analysis of our prophecies. A number of the Neo-Assyrian prophecies are moreover addressed at the people as a whole, such as 2.4 and 3.5. See Parpola, Assyrian Prophecies, XLV. 251

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The prophecies are mostly addressed to the king, and sometimes to the queen-mother, the crown prince or to the people as a whole. Weippert wrote the following about the content: “Sie kreisen in der Regel um das Wohlergehen und den Erfolg des Königs, dem sie Sieg, eine lange Lebens- und Regierungszeit und den Fortbestand seiner Dynastie in Aussicht stellen. Kritik am König findet sich selten.”252 Weippert classifies the prophecies into four types, based on their opening formula—purely a formal criterium, in his own opinion. Type 1 starts with abat GN (word of + name of god), type 2 starts with anāku GN (I am + name of god). Type 3 is the most popular with lā tapalla (fear not). Type 4 starts with šulmu (salvation oracle). Lastly, there are a number of prophecies that cannot be classified and a number of which the beginning is missing.253 Weippert analyses a number of texts of the first three types and arrives at the following conclusions:254 – The texts generally consist of a number of returning elements: the opening (‘Anrede’), the encouragement formula (‘Beschwichtigungsformel’), references to previous good actions, the presentation of self or the preaching of self by the god, promises of protection and support. – The elements can be used for a large variation of purposes (such as making an accusation). – There is a lot of space for interpretation in the final formula. – The number of elements that occurs more than four times within the corpus is very small. – Typically, there are no rules or schedules in the genre, such as the order in which the elements occur. Most expressions can be identified as good news oracles, according to Weippert. This concurs with the use of the language in Assyrian itself, if we assume that šulmu is a terminus technicus.255 252

Weippert, “Die Bildsprache”, 58. Weippert, “Assyrische Prophetien”, 76–79. 254 Weippert, “Assyrische Prophetien”, 89. 255 Parpola, Assyrian Prophecies, XLIV: “the term šulmu has to be understood here as referring to the universal harmony restored through Esarhaddon’s accession.” Parpola thinks that Esarhaddons kingship took on messianistic characteristics within the prophetic circles. 253

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3.5.2. The level of the event Analysis of persuasive texts As said before, the prophecies are not texts with a narrative function but rather, they are of a persuasive nature. While a narrative text is a text in which an event is told,256 a persuasive text is a text that has as its main function the purpose to influence the views, feelings or acts of the reader.257 The one thing does not exclude the other: for the stories that we analysed so far, have a propagandistic, in other words: a persuasive content.258 Similarly, our prophecies may have narrative elements, but this does not make them stories. One could look at it this way: the prophets who uttered these prophecies were not narrators but rather actors in a story. The text could be seen as the ‘direct speech’ form of a story, but the problem is that the context of story is lacking. ‘Direct speech’ is similar to a dialogue between two people in the elevator, to which one is unwillingly a witness, or perhaps even better: as a conversation that is purposefully held so loudly that one cannot help but be a witness to it. The history that forms the context to the scene can partially be reconstructed, as we did above under the heading ‘historical background’, because the prophecies refer to events that took place or will take place. It is therefore nice to see which types of events are touched upon. Seeing as that the prophecies are still a text, whichever way, we can maintain the third and fourth part of our analysis (text and ideology). However, because the precisely narratological level of the ‘story’ is lacking, we will leave this part of the analysis alone. We inspect these texts as we would a commercial, a political speech or a sermon: of what are the prophets trying to convince the king and how do they do this: which images are used and what kinds of events

256

See chapter 1. Van Luxemburg e.o., Inleiding in de literatuurwetenschap, 107. Just like there are many narrative genres (ranging from the joke to the epos), the field of texts with a persuasive function is very diverse: political propaganda, commercial messages, pedagogical advice, opiniated articles, as well as so-called ‘evaluating’ texts and reviews; to mention a just view randomly chosen examples. 258 Stories are very well suited as persuasive texts, because a listener is more relaxed during a story in the first or the third person than during a text in the second person, i.e. a text addressed directly to him or her. A story has the effect that the reader takes on a position of willing suspension of disbelief—a story is believed in principle unless the opposite is proven. The prophet Nathan already made use of this mechanism, as we can tell from 2 Sam. 12. Commercials also prefer to tell a story than to advertise the product directly. 257

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are referred to? The unique thing about these texts is that we have to do with citizens that try to influence the king, instead of the other way around. This is a great exception. Although we should note that the king could well use the text for his own purposes, and also did use the texts for this reason, given the fact he collected these texts: it seems as if he wants to have us listen in to the texts. As mentioned by Van der Toorn: “Car derrière le roi se cache un auditoire bien plus important, d’abord les forces militaires et ensuite la population entière.”259 Classificaton of events In order to have an indiation of what kinds of events the prophecy refers to, we have assessed about ten prophecies. We have chosen six prophecies from tablet K 4310 (nr. 3, 5, 7 and 9 are too small or too damaged) as well as four from tablet K 2401.

K4310

K2401

5=C 4 3 2 10 6=B 8 4 1=A 2 I 4–27 I 30– II 16– III 7– V 12– VI 1– I 27– II 10– II 33– III 16– III 12 IV 30 II 9 32 30 IV 33 21 II 8 39 complaint (as occasion) birth of king election support succession to the throne rebellion previous victories dynastic promise previous oracle Handing-over formula Recognition formula divine protection cultic indications

259

x x x x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x x

x

x

x x

x x

x

x

x

x x

x x

x

x

x x x

x x

x

Van der Toorn, “L’oracle de victoire”, 89.

x x

x

x

x

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It is a mere sample, so the power of the test is small. Nonetheless, this overview gives us a clear view: the theme of these texts is completely different from the royal inscription, even if these texts are soaked with royal ideology. The focus of the prophecies is royal legitimacy, but while the royal inscriptions tell us what the kings did (in the military and construction field), the prophecies tell what the god did for the king. The base structure of almost any prophecy is: “Look what the god did for you, O king. Therefore king . . . have faith, restore the cult.” The past is supposed to serve as a base for the future. We explicitly read this in oracle K 4310 II 37: “The future shall be like the past”, an expression so poetic that we cite it in Akkadian: urkīute lū kî pānīute. For this reason, continuous references are made to the events from the past: the birth of the king, his election, his rise to the throne, the difficulties that were overcome and the oracles that came true. Military victories can be a part of this sequence. Not as proof of divine elections (as in the royal inscriptions) but as proof of divine trustworthiness. The rhetoric structure is essentially different. The most pointed expression of this pattern is a parallel of the recognition formula from the Bible: “Let them see it and praise me, knowing that I am Ashur, lord of the gods.” (K 2401 II 24–25) 3.5.3. The level of the text Weippert made a classification of the various formulations that are used in one of his articles260 and he studied the metaphors in another article.261 We will gratefully use both articles. Repetition of sounds/play with sounds A. K 4310 I 5’–30’ The structure of this text is made up with play with sounds entirely. The use of language is very beautiful. 3 a aiu šāru what wind 7 a’ aiūte dibbīa what words

260

ša idibakkāni has risen against you ša aqabbakkanni have I spoken to you

aqappušu whose wings ina mu i upon which262

lā aksupūni? I have not broken? lā tazzizūni? you could not rely?

Weippert, “Assyrische Prophetien”. Weippert, “Die Bildsprache”. 262 Literally, this expression means: ‘on the skull of ’, even strengthening the parallel with ‘wings’. It remains the question, however, whether etymology was still recognizable in this common preposition to the Assyrian reader. 261

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4b

nakarūtīka kī ša šūrī ša simāni your enemies like ripe apples 6 b’ ša nakarūtīka your enemies 5

bēltu rabītu The great Lady

6

anāku I am

ina pān šēpēka before your feet ina pān šēpēka before your feet

ittangararrū they roll akkarrūni I cast

anāku I am >< (chiasm) Ištar ša Arba il Ishtar of Arbela

8 a anāku Ištar ša Arba il 10a’ anāku Ištar ša Arba il 9b

nakarūtīka your enemies 11b’ ina pānātūka before you

ukā a I flay ina kutallīka behind you

adannaka I give them to you allaka I shall go

13

ina libbi in a state ina libbi in the midst

muggi of paralysis ūa of distress

14

attā You anāku I

Also note the rhime at the end of the lines 3, 6 and 7 (aksupūniakkarrūni-tazzizūni) and in the middle of lines 3 and 7 (idibakkāni, aqabbakkanni). B. K 4310 III 7’–IV 35 2 Aššur-a u-idinna Esarhaddon 3 Aššur-a u-idinna Esarhaddon, 3+6 ūmē arkūte +20 long days, 4 5

sabsubtaka your midwife, mušēniqtaka your nurse,

šar māt Aššur king of Assyria šarrīja adanna my king, I give šanāte dārâte everlasting years rabītu the great one, dēqtu the good one,

anāku I am anāku I am

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ina šapal šamê under the heaven ina qabal šamê in the middle heaven nūr . . . a light

Aššur-a u-idinna Esarhaddon >< ladlula qurdika (the glory of Ashur I will proclaim, and praise your heroism) B,I,34 šabsu kišādi ul utirraššumma >< ul ipša šu ezzetu kabattī (My turned neck I did not turn to him, not was appeased my enraged soul) N.B. the elegant alliterations: šabsu kišādi . . . ša šu kabatti. B,II,4 nap u islu uma >< iddū išātu (with naphta they sprinkled and set fire to it) While we stated in our discussion on ‘repetition of sounds’ that this text is closer to ‘narrative prose’ than to ‘poetry’, the examples of figura etymologica and parallelism make us reconsider this bold statement. The rather lofty style that is characteristic of these two style forms elevates

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the story to the level of an epos. The rather bombastic style could be inspired by the wish to glorify the king. It is also possibly that this style served another communicative aim and was related to the fact that the text had to be recited publicly. The repetitions may have served the goal of redundance: thereby emphasizing the most important points. Repetitions of themes Actually, there are two themes in this text: the theme of the constancy of the word of the gods and thereby, of the king. The other theme is the lack of respect for this word that is sometimes displayed by individuals to their own detriment. The constancy of the word of Ashur, especially, is most visible in B,II,31 vv: “Is the word of the god spoken for a second time?” This is also true, therefore, for the great king, “whose word is unalterable, whose lordly command can not be nullified.” (B,I,25 vv) One does not get the impression that a prophet or a priest is necessary in order to reveal the will of the god. The will of the god is “truth and justice” (kittu u mīšaru B,III,32) and Esarhaddon regards it as his task to carry out this will: “the great gods had granted me with truth and justice, to ensure the treaties.” (B,III,32) The verb that is used in the pre-last sentence (na āru, to guard/to keep) is also the verb that is used in the first sentence, when the king of Shubria is discussed. The latter “did not keep the word of Ashur, king of the gods, and did not fear my dominion.” This theme returns further on in B,I,18–23 and B,II,27. The following thought is remarkable: ‘the robber may be quick as light, Ashur’s word will catch up with him anyway’ in B,I,23: “The oath to the great gods I have broken, your royal word that I despised, have overtaken me.” A well-known theme that is touched upon in this text is the theme of intervention by a god in battle. In this case, Marduk, who takes a determining action in the besiegement when he makes the turn (B,II,5). The overall theme of the text is therefore of an entirely different nature than the theme of the annals. We have established that we find the same events in both genres: insubordination, conquest of a city and plundering. Even turns of phrases, such as “the terrifying splendor of my lordship” are found in this text, albeit in a slightly different wording: “my royal message, which consumes my foe like a flame.” None of

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these events is elevated to the theme of the text. The theme remains: the legitimacy of Esarhaddon’s attack. Intertextuality We did not find forms of intertextuality in the strict sense of references to tangible other texts. We get the impression that the writers of a ‘report to Ashur’ had a great deal of artistic freedom. Seeing as that the goal was to entertain the audience, the writer had to transform into a narrator. The writer of the letter of Sargon II and also of the letter of Sennacherib especially applied themselves to the description of landscapes, while Esarhaddon’s writer apparently loved dialogues and building tension, perhaps also proverbs. In previous discussions, however, we broadened the concept ‘intertextuality’ to include references to typs of text and/or use of certain genres. In this broad sense, we can state that the Report to Ashur falls back on the genre of er.ša. un.ga.324 This is a Sumeric loan word, that does not really have a suitable Akkadic equivalent, just like English does not have a better word either for the German Herzberuhingungsklage.325 The er.ša. un.ga’s are prayers of penance. According to Maul, typical characterists of the genre are: “Klage, Bitte, Sündenbekenntnis und die Erša unga-schlußformel”.326 These are prayers that each have their individual tone, yet according to Maul, the following is true: “Nichts weist darauf hin, daß Erša ungas von Privatpersonen gebetet werden.”327 They were mostly used by kings in public rituals, such as situations in which a disaster was looming. We imagine that this Sitz im Leben makes this genre very suitable for a writer to use as a text spoken by the king of Shubria. The structure of an er.ša. un.ga is as follows: a. an introduction, including an invocation to the god; b. a complaint, in which the person who is praying frequently focalizes himself as aradka, ‘your servant’, and in which the sorrow is depicted as punishment by an angry god who has turned away from his people; c. an image of what the person 324 With gratitude to professor Veenhof, who pointed out to me the potential intertextuality between this genre and the Report to Ashur. 325 S.M. Maul, ‘Herzberuhigungsklagen’: Die sumerisch-akkadischen Erša unga-Gebete, Wiesbaden 1998. 326 Maul, ‘Herzberuhigungsklagen’, 10. 327 Maul, ‘Herzberuhigungsklagen’, 26. See chapter 3.7 for an example of a situation in which the king, i.c. Ashurbanipal, uses a er.ša. un.ga ritual to cleanse Babylon.

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is carrying out for the god (praying, begging, getting down on one’s knees); d. a question, frequently expressed when the god pronounces the a ulap, “enough!”; e. a form of praise f. a litany, in which the gods close to the god are called upon; g. lastly, a more specific er.ša. un.ga final formula, which boils down to a question by the individual who is praying, asking the god whether he will bring calmth to his heart, like “the heart of a physical mother is calming”. When one puts this piece of information side by side to the parts B,I,1–24 in the Report, one notices many similarities. We have summarized these similarities in an overview, and shown one er.ša. un.ga in the same schedule for comparison:328 Report

er.ša. un.ga

a. invocation r. 8–11 šarru ša an-zil-li . . . u-ša-te-ru

r. 2–3 [qarrādu] dMarduk be-lu ilī at-ta [ina ba-l]u ka-a-tam man-nu pur-sa-a i-par-ra-as O king for whom insincerity, Hero Marduk, you are lord of the injustice gods. and murder are gruesome . . . Who can take a decision without you? arms Ashur made more powerful than those of the kings, his fathers

b. complaint r. 24 re-e-mu ri-ša-an-ni-ma pu- ur en-nit-ti Have mercy upon me and

r. 4–5 [ki-šad-ka su i-ir-]šu ki-niš napli-is-su [. . .] re-e-mu ri-ši-šu Turn you neck towards him,329 look

328 Maul, ‘Herzberuhigungsklagen’, 166–169, a er.ša. un.ga to Marduk, consisting of five fragments. We will use the numbering of the lines by Maul. 329 Notice that the metaphor “a turned neck” occurs in the Report in the story in l. B,I,34. Something similar is true for the phenomenon that in many er.ša. un.ga’s, the person praying speaks of himself as aradka, “your servant”. This does not happen in the Report, but it says in l. B,I,4 that the king of Shubria made himself “a servant”. Incidentally, the fact that the person who is praying speaks about himself is frequently a reason to speak about oneself in th third person, as is done in this er.ša. un.ga.

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always at him and have pity with him.

c. depicting acts of prayer r. 3–6 Does not occur in this erša unga. His royal garment he pulled off But Maul notices that in most of and clothed his body with a sac, them similar acts are depicted.330 the garment of a sinner etc. d. prayer/request r. 7 iq- a-nab-ba-a a- u-lap and he cried ‘Mercy!’ again and again (or: enough!) e. song of praise r. 17 a-na nap-ša-a-ti muš-šir-an-ni-ma ta-nit-ti Aš-šur lu-ša-pa lad-lu-la qur-di-ka Spare my life, then I will proclaim the gloryof Ashur and praise your heroism f. litany –

a- u-lap-ia qi-bi331 May he speak: ‘It is enough!’

r. 12 [be-lu]-ut-ti-ka [ina ma-t]a-a-ti [lut-t]a-’i-id Your dominion over the countries I always will praise.

r. 13–24 Not relevant here.

330 Maul, ‘Herzberuhigungsklagen’, 21: “Als Überleitung zwischen Klage und Bitte ist in vielen Erša unga-Gebeten das ‘Tun des Beters’ beschrieben. Der Beter schildert sein Handeln, das in weitesten Sinne als Hinwendung zu der Gottheit zu sehen is (rufen, beten, flehen; Gesten der Hinwendung und Buße, die ‘Stätten der Gottheit’ aufsuchen, sich demütig niederwerfen, kriechen, sich herwenden, die Füße der Gottheit küssen etc.).” 331 This turn of phrase does not occur in our er.ša. un.ga, but it occurs in several other er.ša. un.ga, among which this one, in l. 9 with Maul, ‘Herzberuhigungsklagen’. As an aside, note that it is the god who says ‘it is enough’ in these er.ša. un.ga’s, while, ironically, it is the king who says it constantly in the Report.

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g. final formula r. 24 ag-gu lib-ba-ka li-nu- a-am-ma May your angry heart become quiet

r. 27 ša-zu [. .] un-ga332 your heart may become calm

The use of this genre seems to have as its purpose to emphasize the sin of the king of Shubria even more. It places emphasis on the religious character of his offence. Esarhaddon seems to want to indicate that his harsh stance with respect to Shubria was not motivated by revenge. He is ‘merciful’ after all. There are limits to his patience, though. “Pardonner, c’est son métier” is not true for Esarhaddon, if it could even be true for anyone. After this er.ša. un.ga, Esarhaddon explicitly points out that his angry heart could not find peace and that he did not have compassion. Lastly, we find the well-known phrases used for a king, which we also saw in the annals: “trustworthy shepherd, protecting his field troops, the strength of his army, whose attack can not be repulsed”. In short: similar events, similar writers, but a very different genre. Metaphors The overview of metaphors confirms that the writer did not try to write a text that is supposed to firstly and foremostly entertain the audience because of its use of language. We find less metaphors than were used in the annals. The plot and tension are more important instruments than the use of language. The images that are used stem from the same register as the annals: to burn as a flame, a king as a shepherd, to pull a yoke, a city as a cloud on a mountain—images that we previously saw in a similar form in Sennacherib’s annals. B,I,1 B,I,2 B,I,9

“my royal message, which consumes my foe like a flame” as an image of the flaming strength of Ashur’s king. “his legs trembled” as image of the unbalance of the enemy’s hesitation. “trustworthy shepherd”—a well-known image for the king.

332 Apparently, this line was only kept in Sumeric. L. 1 seems to show us the Akkadian translation: libba-ka u-na-a .

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B,I,13

“pull a yoke”—a standard expression for the recognition of Ashur’s souvereignty. B,I,34 “My turned neck” as an image of refusal. B,I,36 “Uppumu, situated on a mighty mountain like a cloud”—a beautiful image that does not need explaning. B,II,2 “devil’s brood”—does not need an explanation either. B,II,22 “As a skin he tore off the fleece”—image to show that the battle attire is appropriate. B,II,29–30 As a fool you bath after your sacrifices As a [. . .] you make a drain after the rain of heaven” These sentences more closely resemble a proverb than a metaphor. B,III,20 “I filled the whole country of Assyria like a quiver”—a nice image that shows fullness (packed), but also stems from the military jargon. The point of this part of the text is that Esarhaddon provides Ashur with sufficient weapons. Structure For the sake of ease, we will continue to number the tables in order to show their structure. The text has a nice structure, of which the most striking aspect is that Marduk stands at the centre of the structure, showing a miraculous intervention in battle. The combination of A and A’ shows that Esarhaddon wants to make the war appear as a surgical operation: all that is criminal is removed from Shubria, after which it is filled up again. An imperialistic ideology in optima forma: the emperor is not only emptying, but he is also bringing something pretty in return—new inhabitants, a pax romana or a democracy. 3.6.5. The theology/ideology of the text Focalization of the king Esarhaddon firstly and foremostly regards himself as the viceroy of the gods. He is the guarantor of “truth and justice” (B,III,32). This is why “insincerity, injustice and murder are gruesome” to him (B,I,8). Marduk intervenes for his benefit (B,II,5). Ashur’s will is his order, but Esarhaddon does not have the power to change this will (B,II,35–38). All well-known gods in the pantheon stand on the side of Esarhaddon: Ashur, Ninlil, Serua, Ninurta, Gula, Nergal, Ishtar of Nineveh, Ishtar of Arbela, Nusku (B,III,10–11). They “always go at his side and kill his enemies”. The cities are burnt by Ashur’s power for this reason, but they are equally rebuilt at his orders (B,IV,2).

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chapter three A Opening: insubordination Aa Shubria is ‘full’ of criminals B

II–III

III

Reaction by the king of Shubria Ba remorse + request for mercy Bb refusal of mercy C

B’

Battle Ca besiegement Uppumu Cb counter-attack Uppumu (fire) Cx intervention Marduk: turning wind Cb’ fire hits exactly the wall of Uppumu Ca’ conquest of Uppumu

Reaction king of Shubria B’a remorse + request for mercy B’b refusal of mercy

IV–V A’ Ending: sanctions A’a ‘emptying Shubria’ – the things (loot) – the people (exiles) – among which: the criminals on the run – among which the criminals on the run from Urartu – ‘refilling Shubria’ – reinstatement of cities with new names – new inhabitants (exiles from other places) The part that shows mostly clearly the extent to which Esarhaddon acts on behalf of the gods is the colophon of the text. The colophon makes clear that Esarhaddon regards himself as king at the mercy of Ashur, who also has to report back to his god. Esarhaddon also regards himself as strict as well as just. He starts of by giving the criminals on the run a chance to return with a permit to save their lifes (A,7). He is thereby also serving the king of Shubria by giving him “good advice” (A,9). The moment that this king does not listen to this, it’s over. Esarhaddon’s orders, once they have been pronounced, cannot be changed (B,I,25).

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Esarhaddon calls himself šarru dannu (‘powerful’) or even dandannu (‘omnipotent’), “king of the universe”, “heroic” (B,I,17). A “trustworthy shepherd, protecting his field troops, the strength of his army, whose attack can not be repulsed” (B,I,9–11) No king could stand up to him (B,I,28). The king of Shubria is focalized as an opposite (according to the text itself ), as a thief, sinner, who did not keep the word of Ashur, who is unsubmissive, who responds in a hostile manner etc.’ Valuation of the war War is valued as something positive in this text. It is a means to achieve kittu u mīšaru, “truth and justice”. It is a legal and a policy instrument. It appears that there is no doubt about the justness of this means, seeing as that the goal justifies the means. As we have stated above, Esarhaddon regards himself as “no more” than a small cogwheel in this legal apparatus: Ashur is the judge, who also pronounces the verdict (B,II,35) and the king of Shubria is the accused. Esarhaddon is no more than the chief of the police who hunts down the criminals, who cannot change the law (B,II,36). Effect of the valuation of the war on the valuation of the king Seeing as that war serves a just goal, the story of war is told in order to make the king look good. Justice has to overcome and the king is acting towards this goal. The war may seem to be “grim”, but this is due to another cause than the alleged harshness of the king or the god; it is done purely to safe-guard the reliability of the system. Focalization of the gods Ashur is the most important god in the text by far. He orders (B,IV,4), judges (B,II,35) and is also regarded as the strength behind the king. When “the fierce weapons of Assur have been aroused from their places” (B,I,32) by the king of Shubria, battle is a fact. Esarhaddon conquers Shubria with the “weapons of Ashur” (B,III,31) and destroys his cities “by the power of Ashur” (B,IV,2). It is moreover said of Ashur that he “made his (Esarhaddon’s) arms more powerful than those of the kings, his fathers” (B,I,11—from the mouth of the king of Shubria). It is striking that Ashur never acts himself, while Marduk acts once. In the (literally) greatest heat of the battle, this god is the one at whose

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“command the north wind blew” (B,II,5). Does this have something to do with the fact that Marduk took up the place of Enlil, god of the wind, in the pantheon? He also mentions in passing that he was called “king of the gods”. In the third place, the other gods are also mentioned twice. Once in B,III,11–12, when (at least) nine gods are mentioned “who always go at my side and kill my enemies”. There is also the collective of the “great gods”, which gives kittu u mišaru to Esarhaddon “to ensure the treaties” (B,III,32). Lastly, the fire god Girra is mentioned twice. The first time, she is mentioned with the determinative “dingir” for gods, the second time it is without determinative and the name of this god can be translated with “fire” (B,IV,3). We cannot find out to which extent people really thought of a god here, and to which extent this is a standard expression.333 A smart version of a focalization of Ashur can be found in the “appendix” to the text, in which all city names that Esarhaddon gave to the conquered cities of Shubria seem to have been summed up. A short extract from this enumeration: ‘Ashur returned his land’, ‘Who is the rival of Ashur?’ ‘Do not temper with the word of Ashur’, ‘Have fear and save your land’, ‘Ashur kills my enemies’. Relationship between divine and human activity When we ask ourselves the question what the relationship between the divine and human activity is in this report, we find the same image as Sennacherib’s annals. In principle, the king yields Ashur’s weapons: “Battle and warfare you started against me, the fierce weapons of Ashur you have aroused from their places” (B,I,32). On a separate note, those events that are awe-inspiring and beneficial are ascribed to divine intervention. With Sennacherib, the death of king Elam was interpreted as an act of god; in our text, such an interpretation is made for the turning of the wind, which caused the fire to hit the city Uppumu itself instead of the Assyrian army (B,II,5). Theology/ideology of the text From the analysis of the central themes, we can deduce the ideology of the text: there is but one viceroy of Ashur on earth, this is the Assyrian king. He deserves absolute obedience for this reason. It has

333 Just like my otherwise strictly monotheistic grandfather used to say “Pluvius accompanies us” on rainy days.

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nothing to do with being forgiving or unforgiving, but with workable relations within the empire. The confident and assertive inhabitants of the city of Ashur, bestowed with all kinds of priviliges, have to realize that the exertion of their priviliges is bound to certain limitations, i.e. whenever it forms a danger to the authoritiy of the king and thereby to the continued existence of the empire. We support Oppenheim’s vision: “Its elaborate political rhetoric, the intransigent and ever-repeated formulation of Assyrian imperial policies, the stress placed on the sanctity of the oath of a vassal, the demand for absolute obedience to the king’s commands, and the eloquent phraseology of humiliation and submission [. . .] all point in the same direction. The letter must have been meant to counteract a spirit of dissent and criticism against such procedures, and the letter’s explicitness was to bring home the message that the king did not intend to soften his attitude in these respects.”334 3.7. From the annals of Ashurbanipal 3.7.1. Introduction to the annals of Ashurbanipal Translation Text edition and translation: – BIWA, 14–17 (text I,1–51), 39–45 (text III,70–IV,109), 208–209 (translation I,1–51), 232–235 (translation III,70–IV,109) Column I (1) I am Ashurbanipal, procreation335 of Ashur and Mulissu, (2) the eldest son of the king from the Palace of Succession,336 334

Oppenheim, “Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian Empires”, 131. It is difficult to satisfactorily translate the word binûtu into English, seeing as that it derives from the word banû, which can mean ‘to build’ (compare to bītu, ‘house’) as well as ‘to create’, and ‘to procreate’ (compare to abu bānû ‘procreator, natural father’). In any case, Ashurbanipal is trying to indicate that he has an act of willpower by Ashur and Mulissu themselves to thank for his existence. Compare to l. 5, in which the verb ša ib-nu-šu is used, ‘those who built/procreated/created’ to l. 8, in which Ashurbanipal calls Esarhaddon his abu bānû, natural father. Ashurbanipal’s preference for this word could be connected to a play with words in his own name: Aššur-bānû-apli = “Ashur is the procreator of the heir”. See paragraph 3.7.4. below. 336 The so-called bīt ridūti, the palace in which the heir to the throne lived. Given this message about building at the end of this prism, it would seem the text was erected at the occasion of the renovation of this palace. The text was only to be found 2520 years later, in this very same place. Although in this message, Ashurbanipal calls upon his 335

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(3) whom Ashur and Sin, the lord of the crown, long ago already337 (4) called by his name to become king (5) and whom they in have created the womb of his mother, to become shepherd over Assyria. (6) Shamash, Adad and Ishtar were determined in their decision (7) to order me to exert kingship. (8) Esarhaddon, king of Assyria, my natural father, (9) has paid attention to the word of Ashur and Mulissu, his anchor, (10) who ordered the exercition of kingship by me. (11) In the month Ajjaru, the month of Ea, the lord of mankind, (12) on the twelfth day,338 a favourable day, [. . .] of Gula, (18) he gathered the people of Ashur, small and great, (19) from the Upper up to the Lower sea (13) to execute the noble word (14) that Ashur, Mulissu, Sin, Shamash, Adad, (15) Bel, Nabu, Ishtar of Nineveh, (16) Sharrat-Kidmuri, Ishtar of Arbela, (17) Ninurta, Nergal and Nuska had ordered. (20) To protect my status as heir, (21) so that I would exert kingship over Assyria, (22) he let them take (21) an oath in the lives of the great gods, and he made it a binding obligation. (23) With joy and happiness I entered the Palace of Succession, (24) the elaborate place, the bond of the kingship, (25) where Sennacherib, the father of my natural father, (26) had reigned as heir and as king, (27) the place where Esarhaddon, my natural father, (28) grew up and exerted the rule over Assyria, (29) has led all princes, has expanded the clan, progeny to continue to renovate the palace, the undamaged state of the text is probably and ironically due to the fact that this never happened because of the destruction of Nineveh in 612 B.C. 337 Literally: “since far-away days”. 338 See Borger, BIWA, 15: in older prisms, it says the ‘18th’ here. In one ore two, editors attempted to change ‘18’ into ‘12’. It is not clear why they did so. Based on other texts, the 18th can be identified as the historically correct date.

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(30) has gathered family and kin. (31) And I, Ashurbanipal, have acquired the wisdom of Nabu, (32) have studied the art of writing and insights that all scholars, (33) as many as there are. (34) I learnt the art of archery, to ride horse and chariot, and to rein the horse. (35) At the command of the great gods, whose names I mentioned, (36) whose praise I proclaim, who have ordered that I should exert kingship, (37) they entrusted me with the care of their holy places. (38) They acted as stand-in for me against my adversary and killed my enemy. (39) The heroic man, the favorite of Ashur and Ishtar, (40) the royal heir I am. (41) Since Ashur, Sin, Shamash, Adad, Bel, Nabu, (42) Ishtar of Nineveh, Sharrat-Kidmuri, (43) Ishtar of Arbela, Ninurta, Nergal and Nuska (44) have installed me on the throne of my natural father to their great contentment, (45) Adad the rains fall freely and Ea opened his sources (46) The wheat becomes as long as five ell in the furrow, (47) the stalks become as long as 5/6 of an ell. (48) The flourishing of the harvest and the abundance of the grain339 (49) constantly let the fields sprout. (50) The orchards bear plentiful fruit. The cattle give birth to many offspring. (51) During my government there is affluence and abundance. Column III (70) In those days Shamash-shuma-ukin, the unreliable brother, (71) whom I had treated well— (72) I had him appointed him as king of Babylon,

339 Literally, it says ‘Nisaba’ here, the goddess of grain and as such, a synonym of ‘grain’.

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(73) all ritual paraphernalia340 belonging to the kingship, I made and assigned to him, (74) soldiers, horses and chariots (75) I collected and I filled his hands with them, (76) cities, fields, orchards, the inhabitants of them, (77) I increased, even more than my natural father had ordered me, I gave him— (78) but he himself forgot the favour I had done to him, (79) and he started to plot evil. (80) Superficially he paid lip service to kindness, (81) but deep in his heart his intentions were aimed at murder. (82) Under the inhabitants of Babylon, who were devoted to Assyria, (83) the subjects, who were subordinate to me, he brought dissension, (84) telling them falsehoods. (85) In a sly way (86) he sent them on a misson to me in Nineveh, (85) to ask about my well-being. (87) (88) (89) (90) (92) (92)

I, Ashurbanipal, king of Assyria, for whom the great gods have established a favourable fate, whom they created in truth and justice, let these inhabitants of Babylon go to table and I gave them (91) multicoloured clothes and golden rings (93) on their hands.

While these inhabitants of Babylon (94) were staying in Ashur, (95) and obeyed to whatever decision I took, (96) this Shamash-shuma-ukin, the unreliable brother, (97) who did not abide by the oath he had sworn to me, incited the inhabitants of Akkad, Chaldea, (98) Aramu and Sealand, from Aqaba (99) to Bābsalimeti, subjects, who were subordinate to me, (100) to rebellion against me. Ummanigash also, (101) the fugitive, who had clenched my royal feet, (102) whom I had appointed as king of Elam, (103) as well as the kings of Gutium, Amurru and Meluhha,

340 Some prisms have pa-az-ru here instead of pa-ar-su. Both words do not present us with a very useful meaning, according to Borger. Veenhof suggested that I interpret this as par u, which indeed gives us a logical sentence.

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(104) whom I had appointed myself at the order of Ashur and Mulissu (105) all of them he made enemies of me, and (106) they made an agreement with him. (107) The gates of Sippar, Babylon and Borsippa (108) he closed, and he broke the fraternal bond. (109) On the walls of those cities (110) he let warriors climb (111) who waged battle with me constantly. (112) The offering of sacrifices to Bel and to the son of Bel, (113) and to the light of the gods, Shamash, and to the hero Erra341 (114) he halted and he ended his offering donations. (115) To rob the cultic centers, the abodes of the great gods, (116) whose holy places I had renewed and adorned with gold and silver, (117) and which I had provided with whatever was necessary, (118) he plotted evil. In those days there was a man (119) who had in his sleep at night (120) a dream. (121) Thus there was written on the pedestal of Sin:342 (122) Whomever (123) plots evil343 or wages battle (122) against Ashurbanipal, king of Ashur, (124) I will give a nasty death. (125) With the quick sword, fire, famine (126) or pestilence344 I will put an end to their life.

341 Shamash was worshipped in Sippar and Erra (Nergal) was worshipped in Kutha, one of the other rebellious cities. See Frame, Babylonia, 142. According to Ashurbanipal, there are religious dimensions to this rebellion, in the sense that Shamash-shuma-ukin is using the rebellion to prevent his brother from keeping up his cultic duties with respect to the gods. This itself has economic consequences: the king had a right to the remainders of the offering. 342 A number of text-witnesses interpret this as: “This was read by Nabu, writer of all, working on his divine task, which was written on the pillar of Sin:” 343 The same text-witnesses that were mentioned in the previous footnote, interpret this differently, too. Instead of “who plans evil”, they see this as a auxiliary phrase by Ashurbanipal: “who possesses wisdom”. 344 ‘Fire’ is a translation of what literary says ‘an attack by Girra’ and ‘the pestilence’ of ‘an attack by Erra’.

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(127) These things I heard and I trusted the word of Sin.345 (128) During my sixth campaign I mobilized my troops, (129) I was bound for Shamash-shuma-ukin. (130) In Sippar, Babylon, Borsippa and Kutha (31) I enclosed him with his warriors, and (132) I barred their exit. (133) In the city and in the fields I inflicted on them innumerable defeats. (134) The rest (135) lost their life (134) by pestilence, (135) poverty or hunger. (136) Ummanigash, king of Elam, appointed by myself, (137) who accepted bribes from him, and (138) had come to his aid, (Column IV ) (1) Tammaritu rebelled against him and (2) eliminated him together with his family with the arms. (3) After that Tammaritu, after Ummanigash (4) took place on the throne of Elam (5) and did not ask about my well-being as king, (7) came to the aid of (6) Shamash-shuma-ukin, the hostile brother, (8) and hastily brought his arms (7) to wage battle with my troops. (9) At my supplications, which I addressed at Ashur and Ishtar, (10) They accepted my complaint and heard the word of my lips. (11) Indabibi, his subject, rebelled against him, and (12) inflicted a defeat on him in a battle. Tammaritu, (13) king of Elam, who about the beheading of Teumman, (14) had spoken derisively: (15)—a soldier with a lower rank had cut off his head– (16) Does one cut off the head of the king of Elam (17) in his own land and amidst his own troops? (18) and on another occasion he had said: Ummanigash, (19) how could he have kissed the ground (20) in front of the messengers of Ashurbanipal, the king of Assyria? (21) because of this mockery (22) Ashur and Ishtar attacked him and (23) Tammaritu, his brothers, his kin, the descendants of his dynasty, 345

Again, the same text-witnesses interpret this as: “Nabu’s word”.

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(24) together with 85 princes at his side, (25) fled for Indabibi, his subject, and (27) they crept (26) naked on their bellies, (27) and they came to Nineveh. (28) Tammaritu kissed my royal feet and (29) and wiped the floor with his beard.346 (30) He clenched to the foot-board of my chariot and (31) he offered himself for doing slavery for me (33) At the command of Ashur and Ishtar he begged me as lord, (32) to do him justice and come to his aid. (34) They stood up in front of me and (35) praised the heroic acts of my great gods (36) who had come to my aid. (37) I, Ashurbanipal, who has a magnanimous heart, (38) who does not keep resenting, who can forgive sins, (39) I showed mercy to Tammaritu and (40) I appointed hem, together with the descendants of his dynasty as my palace personnel. (41) In those days (43) famine got hold on (41) the people of Akkad, (42) who had token the side of Shamash-shuma-ukin (43) and had plotted evil. (44) To alleviate their hunger (45) they ate (44) the flesh of their sons and daughters, (45) and chewed on belts. (46) Ashur, Sin, Shamash, Adad, Bel, Nabu, (47) Ishtar of Nineveh, Sharrat-Kidmuri, (48) Ishtar of Arbela, Ninurta, Nergal and Nuska, (49) who went before me and killed my enemies, (51) threw (50) Shamash-shuma-ukin, my hostile brother, who had turned against me, (51) in a burning fire, (52) and ruined his life. (53) The people, who had incited Shamash-shuma-ukin, (54) my hostile brother, (55) to execute these evil acts, (56) who feared death

346 See C.R. Chapman, The Gendered Language of Warfare in the Israelite/Assyrian Encounter (diss.), Cambridge Massachusetts 2002, 52 for the topos of wiping the floor with the beard, both in literature and in iconography.

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and whose life (57) was valuable (56) in their own eyes, (57) so that they had not thrown themselves with Shamash-shuma-ukin, (58) their lord into the fire, (59) who had escaped the sharpness of the sword, the poverty, the famine (60) and the blazing fire, and had sought refuge— (61) the ineluctable net of the great gods, my lords, (62) caught them. No one escaped. (63) No runaway slipped out of my hands. (64) War chariot, carriags, parasol, the women of his harem— (65) the properties of his palace they brought before me (66) These soldiers— the impudence which had come out of their mouth, (67) which they had uttered against Ashur, my god (68) and who had plotted evil against me, the lord who fears him— (69) I cut off their tongue and inflicted a defeat on them. (70) The rest of the people, I have (73) smashed (70) alive with the stone images (71) with which they had smashed Sennacherib, the father of my natural father, (72)—now as funerary offering for him. (74) Their flesh, cut in pieces, (75) I have fed to dogs, swines and jackals, (76) to the eagles, the birds of heaven and the fish in the depth. (77) After I had accomplished these acts, (78) and I had appeased the hearts of the great gods, my lords, (84) I have removed out of Babylon Kutha and Sippar, (79) the bodies of the people who the god Erra had slain, (80) and of those who had lost their lives by poverty and by hunger, (81) the remains, left by the dogs and the swines, (82) which were jamming the streets and filling the squares, (83) the bones, (85) and thrown them outside. (86) With exorcisms I purged the sanctuaries, (87) I cleaned the polluted streets. (88) The angry gods and incensed goddesses (89) I calmed with offerings and er.ša.hun.ga-prayers.347

347 We discussed this genre in chapter 3.6. Also see Maul, ‘Herzberuhigungsklagen’, 30, in which he refers to this text as one of the examples of how this type of prayer functioned in practice.

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(90) The regular sacrifices, the number of which had become very low, (91) I reinstated fully (90) as it was of old. (92) To the rest of the inhabitants of Babylon, Kutha en Sippar, (93) who had escaped the punishment, the massacre and the hunger, (94) I showed mercy. (95) I ordered that they should be kept alive. (96) I settled them in Babylon. (97) The inhabitants of Akkad, together with those of Chaldea, Aramu and Sealand, (98) who had allied themselves to Shamash-shuma-ukin, (99) had joined his cause (100) and by free will had become my enemy, (101) at the order of Ashur and Mulissu, the great gods, my anchor, (102) I subjected them fully. (103) The yoke of Ashur they had thrown off, I imposed on them. (104) Stadholders and officials, designated by myself, (105) I appointed over them. (106) The regular and constant sacrifices, as well as the offering of firstripes to Ashur, Mulissu (107) and the gods of Assyria, I imposed upon them. (108) A tribute, to be paid to me as lord, (109) annually and without cessation I imposed upon them. On the state of the material Ashurbanipal left us many texts. The annals by themselves can be divided into varous editions (Klassen), each of which is often known to us from multiple manuscripts.348 In Ashurbanipal’s palace in Nineveh, a scriptorium was found in which ‘rejected’ texts were dumped. The annals were almost all written between 649 and 639 B.C. according to Borger (edition E may be older). The text we chose is from the socalled edition A from 645 B.C.349 The reasons we chose this edition includes the fact that it is the most elaborate one (about 1300 lines), but more importantly the fact that we possess an almost perfect example: the famous Rassam-prism. This prism hid itself in its original location

348 See R. Borger, Beiträge zum Inschriftenwerk Ashurbanipals: Die Prismenklassen A, B, C = K, D, E, F, G, H, J und T sowie die andere Inschriften, Wiesbaden 1996. 349 The letters, which were given to those editions as sigla, reflect the order in which they were found. Sadly it does not reflect the order in which they were written, this order being: E, B/D, C, G, T, F, A, H, J.

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between 645 B.C. and 1875 A.C.: in Ashurbanipal’s palace. Hormuzd Rassam found it there and brought it to London, where it has been one of the showpieces of the British Museum ever since.350 Apart from one or two translation issues, this text does not pose us with any big problems. Historical background While we called Sennacherib’s goverment “the zenith and the turning point of the Neo-Assyrian empire”, the government of his grandson Ashurbanipal (669–627? B.C.) tends to be regarded as the “the zenith as well as the end” of this empire.351 Ashurbanipal’s long reign is characterized by great accomplishments, both in the political-military and cultural field, as in the ultimate quick demise of the empire. His father Esarhaddon tried to prevent problems to do with the succession, such as experienced by himself, by making everyone at the court (probably including Shamash-shuma-ukin), all the civil servants and all the vassals swear an oath of loyalty to Ashurbanipal ánd by splitting the empire between the two aforementioned sons. It seems he was succesful in this endeavour, because there were no severe rebellions when Ashurbanipal rose to the throne of Assyria in 669 B.C., nor when his brother Shamash-shuma-ukin rose to the throne of Babylon a year later. The reason that Esarhaddon chose this construction is unkown, but it seems it worked for about twenty years. For this reason, Ashurbanipal has his hands free in the first years of his reign to finish what his father started: subjecting arch-rival Egypt. During two campaigns in 667 and 664 B.C., he is capable of expanding the empire to include Thebe: the Assyrian empire had never been any larger. It does not last long, however, because around 660 B.C., Assyria’s influence in Egypt starts to wane when Ashurbanipal has his hands full with the Lydians in the West, and even more with the Elamites in the East. Elam and Babylon had been allies on a regular basis since the time of Merodak-Baladan II (at the time of Sargon II and Sennacherib) against their common Assyrian enemy. However, the moment that Ashurba350

A beautiful picture of this prism was printed on p. 350 of: R. Borger, “De oorlogen van Ashurbanipal tegen Egypte”, in: R.J. Demarée en K.R. Veenhof (eds.), Zij schreven geschiedenis: Historische documenten uit het Oude Nabije Oosten (2500 –100 v.Chr.), Leiden/Leuven 2003, 341–350. 351 For various overviews of history at the time of Ashurbanipal, see: G. Frame, Babylonia 689 –627 B.C.: A Political History, Istanbul 1992; P.D. Gerardi, Ashurbanipal’s Elamite Campaigns: A Literary and Political Study (diss.), Pennsylvania 1987; Veenhof, Geschichte.

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nipal’s own brother Shamash-shuma-ukin cannot resist the chance to try and break the Assyrian hegemony together with the Elamites, it turns out that Assyria’s powers are not inexhaustible. It may be true that Babylon is forced to its knees, but the battle takes no less than four years (652–648 B.C.) and is regarded as the beginning of the end of the Neo-Assyrian Empire. The last campaigns by Ashurbanipal known to us took place around the year 639 B.C. Considering the amount of texts left to us by this king, it does not seem likely that annals of a later date are ‘accidentally’ missing. We actually do not know anything about the last years of Ashurbanipal. As a result, the end of his reign is dated somewhere between 629 and 627 B.C. In 627 B.C., Nabopolassar even manages to definitively conquer back Babylon’s independence, after which the Neo-Assyrian empire breaks down, with the destruction of Nineveh in 612 B.C. as an absolute nadir. According to Olmstead, cited by Frame with permission, Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal used the stick too little and the carrot too much when it came to Babylon.352 This can be called a surprising reproach to make to an empire that became notorious for its harsh and violent policies and warfare. Praising Sennacherib for his ‘moral courage’ is also indicative, in our view, of a rather cynical, machiavellistic perspective on history. We cannot go about this discussion without mentioning that Ashurbanipal, as if anticipating the end of an era, assembled the Mesopotamic literature in his palace, a unique canonization project. This is of great service to his descendents, including Ph.D. students in the year 2008. It is not clear why he did this. He was a scholar and a lover of the arts, but we cannot be sure whether this was the reason. Genre We already discussed the genre of the annals in 3.4. According to Gerardi, Ashurbanipal introduced several changes in the genre: he used geography as a principle to organize his writing more frequently than he did the principle of chronology. He moreover gave a different meaning to the concept girru (campaign) than his predecessors did: campaigns

352 Frame, Babylonia, 260: “Olmstead describes Esarhaddon’s restoration of Babylon and his later division of the empire between Ashurbanipal and Shamash-šuma-ukin as colossal blunders leading to the collapse of the empire. He concludes that the Assyrians ‘had not, save in Sennacherib alone, rulers who had the moral courage to force Babylon to come within the system. Babylon remained an open sore and from this infection of the body politic came destruction.’ ”

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could be classified to be part of a different girru in a different edition, each campaign connected through turns of phrases, such as “on my way back” or “during the continuation of my campaign”.353 3.7.2. The level of the event Classification of events In the scheme below, we have made an inventory of the frequency with which certain events occur. Like we did in Sennacherib’s annals, we will focus mostly on the introduction, seeing as that it expresses the ideology of the text. We also put most attention on one campaign, while taking the other campaigns into account in the background. The presentation and summary While, surprisingly, all references to his father or his dynasty were missing with Sennacherib; with Ashurbanipal, his father, grandfather and his mother are mentioned (though his mother is only mentioned in her capacity as a birth mother). While Sennacherib’s text was centred on his assignment to bring the world under Assyria’s dominion, Ashurbanipal’s text is about his legitimacy. He tries to lay a foundation for this legitimacy in several ways: a. his status as eldest son (l. 2).354 b. his divine vocation to become king (l. 3–6), since he was a child. c. The gods have ‘guaranteed’ this vocation with the oath of loyalty that Esarhaddon made his people take (8–22). d. his personal suitability also becomes clear from all the skills that were transferred, father to son, in the House of Succession (23–34). Ashurbanipal continues to announce his vision of kingship in relation to the gods in the summary (l. 35–39): according to him, kingship means that the upkeep of holy places is entrusted to him. As a service in return, the gods will wage war for him. The quid pro quo aspect is beautifully expressed in the chiasmus of this sentence:

353

Gerardi, Ashurbanipal’s Elamite Campaigns, 26. It is generally assumed that this claim is untrue. See, amongst others Tadmor, “Autobiographical Apology”, 44–45. 354

war in a number of extrabiblical texts za-nin eš-re-ti-šu-un u-šad-gi-lu pa-nu-u-a e-mu-u-a i-tap-pa-lu bēl al-ti-ia i-na-ru ga-re-ia

505

the maintenance of their holy places they made this my responsibility on my behalf they stood up against my opponent and they killed my enemy

The complication phase The complication phase of this sixth campaign by Ashurbanipal is remarkably long. Considering the type of event, the style of the text seems closely related to that of the eighth campaign by Sennacherib as well as to the stories in the books of Kings. We learn about a ‘diplomatic’ legation, which is treated to a meal by Ashurbanipal, the forging of an alliance by Shamash-shuma-ukin, a dream oracle, there is even a complete excursion about the various coup d’états that took place in Elam, and lastly we hear of the famine that erupted among the population of Akkad.355 Almost an entire column (III,70–IV,45) is devoted to the complication phase before the battle itself is fought. The climax The climax is over before the reader even realizes it. As with the eighth campaign by Sennacherib, all the gods suddenly come to the king’s aid. They give Shamash-shuma-ukin over to the fire (IV,50–51). It seems this is all we hear about the battle. We do not learn whether Shamash-shuma-ukin was killed by his own people or committed suicide after the situation had become untenable because of two years of besiegement, or whether an actual fight took place. The first option seems the most likely.356

355

Including the topos, well-known from 2 Kg. 7, of parents eating their children. Also see Chapman, The Gendered Language of Warfare. She draws attention to the fact that the Assyrian kings saw it as their task to provide their people with food, just like a man was obligated by law to provide his wife with food. A king who was not capable of doing so was thereby automatically also a failure as a king. See especially 38–43 and 56–60. 356 See Frame, Babylonia, 153–155.

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The dénouement and sanction phase The phase of dénouement and sanctioning is rather long compared to the climax. The terrible punishments Ashurbanipal places on those that cooperated with his brother are narrated elaborately. In as far as these people had not died during the besiegement; he mutilates them and feeds them to wild animals. He continues to execute a ritual cleansing of the city and the sanctuary, finally taking a velvet glove (Frame) with respect to the remainder of the inhabitants in the cities. Privileges and freedom of taxes have been retrieved, but Ashurbanipal finds it important to mention explicitly that he wants to “show mercy” to these people (IV,94).

Prism A Ashurbanipal

intro- Egypt Egypt Lydia Man- Elam Elam Elam Elam Arabia end ducI II III naya V Bab. VII VIII IX tion IV VI

exposition phase a. self presentation

1

c. previous kings

1

d. summary

1

g. election of the king

1

h. succession

1

complication phase a. agression from the outside b. insubordination

2

1

2

1

3

1

1

1

1

1

c. call for an oracle d. oracle e. (internal) rebellion

1

f. remorse enemy

1

g. negotiation

1

1

1

6

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Table (cont.) Prism A Ashurbanipal

intro- Egypt Egypt Lydia Man- Elam Elam Elam Elam Arabia end ducI II III naya V Bab. VII VIII IX tion IV VI

h. cultic (mis)deeds

1

climax a. battle

1

b. divine intervention

1

c. divine support

2

d. support third parties

1

2 2

1

1

e. new territory f. flight enemy

2

3 1

1

g. conquest/ surrender cities

1 6

h. plundering

1

i. change of direction

1

j. victory

1

1

1 1

2

1

1

1

1

1

1

2

2

3

2 1

1

3 1

1 1

5

1 1

1

4

1

1

1

1

3

6

k. negotiation l. siege n. famine and disaster for population

1

1

1 1

3

dénouement a. increase in prosperity b. construction activities c. religious measures

1 2

3

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Table (cont.) d. annexation/ government change

2

1

e. deportation f. taxes

1

1 1

5

1

2

2

2

1

2 1

g. making the land smaller h. punishment

1

2

1

1

1

5

1

2

i. erecting a stela j. dividing the loot

1

1

k. restoration of law and order l. taking prisoners

2

1

1

1

3

m. execution nobility conclusion/sanction a. curse b. blessing

Improvement/turn for the worse There is a sharp kink or U-turn in the text. In line with expectations, the text ends with a significant improvement of the situation—or should we say ‘restoration’—but not until Ashurbanipal elaborately painted the ugly picture of the crisis: rebellion, hunger and misery. Actors The quest in the story is the struggle for kingship, in this episode more precisely the struggle for kingship over Babylon. Ashurbanipal already clearly states in the introduction that it is the wish of the gods that he exerts kingship. The gods clearly hold the position of destinateur and Ashurbanipal the position of destinataire. It is also the wish of the gods that he upkeeps these cult locations. Accordingly, Ashurbanipal thinks that Shamash-shuma-ukin’s decision to cut him of from having access to Sippar, Babylon and Borsippa has the goal of making this impossible for him (III,112–113).

1

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509

Exactly this strategy becomes fatal to Shamash-shuma-ukin: Sin (some text-witnesses say: Nabu) makes it clear in a dream oracle that this barring of Ashurbanipal will turn against Shamash-shuma-ukin: the sword, the fire, hunger and the plague (an attack by Erra) will befall the rebels.

gods

Kingship

Ashurbanipal

Ummanigash, kings of Gutium, Tammaritu, “the people of Shamash-shuma-ukin”

Shamashshuma-ukin

Ashurbanipal, dream oracle, sword, hunger, fire, pestilence, anwering of the prayer by Ashur and Ishtar

Time Seemingly, there is an important role for time in the story. Repeatedly, phrases such as “in those days” (III,70; III,118; IV,41) and “during my sixth campaign” are used. But this impression is false. The indications of time are outstandingly vague. There are no indications in this text that can tell us the entire story actually stretches over a period of four years. Nor can we figure out were the sixth campaign started or ended. Chronology is of less importance with Ashurbanipal than with any other Assyrian king.357 Gerardi points out that phrases such as “in those days” are “a structural as well as temporal element in the narrative”.358 Place Compared to what we wrote about ‘time’ above, the indications of place are of much greater importance. The story begins in Nineveh; Shamash-shuma-ukin sends a legation of messengers to this place. This is a screen of smoke, behind which he is in the mean time seeking support for his rebellion in all of Mesopotamia (Akkad, Chaldea,

357 Gerardi, Ashurbanipal’s Elamite Campaigns, 233: “It was noted earlier that Ashurbanipal’s annals, in all its editions, preferred an arrangement of the military narration section based primarily on geography and only secondary on chronology. That is, the broad arrangement is geographical: all Egyptian campaigns are grouped together followed by all Syro-Palestinian campaigns and so on, ordered, in general from west to north to east to south.” 358 Gerardi, Ashurbanipal’s Elamite Campaigns 168.

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Aramu, Sealand), as well as in neighbouring country of Elam, and among Assyrian vassals (Gutium, Amurru, Melu a). Subsequently, Ashurbanipal moves towards the rebellious cities Sippar, Babylon, Borsippa and Kutha. What follows is an elaborate excursion to Elam, with the campaign finally returning to the cities mentioned before, especially Babylon. 3.7.3. The level of the story Interventions in the order of time In the story of the sixth campaign, a remarkably large number of interventions are made in the order of time. It starts with the preparations for the campaign. For example, a fork construction begins in III,92. While the Shamash-shuma-ukin’s messengers are occupying Ashurbanipal, he himself is busy forging an alliance. Later on, there is an anticipation, namely the prediction of the ending in the dream-oracle in III,118–127. Subsequently, a fork construction is used in the course of the campaign. Once again, we hear about what happens elsewhere, this being in Elam, while a number of cities are under besiegement. During the second coup d’etat in Elam, there is a flash-back (IV,12–20) about the sneering remarks made by Tammaritu about his predecessors Teumman and Ummanigash. The ending of the story, which starts in IV,41, seems to be told in chronological order.359 One could at the most regard l. IV,71 as a short flashback, as it features a rather difficult announcement about what Sennacherib did. Tempo The writer of these annals not only intervenes in the order of events, he also makes us of variations in the tempo. First of all the rather elaborate introduction to the story (III,70–93a) seems to have been intended as a slow-down. Ashurbanipal is telling us the good things he has done for his brother, how he even treated his

359 Gerardi, Ashurbanipal’s Elamite Campaigns, 164–175, especially p. 172, uses a scheme that makes the structure of this story visible, based on the sentences “in those days”, “during my sixth campaign”, “in those days”, including two fork constructions. We think that this scheme can be improved, but we will return to this topic under the heading ‘structure’.

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legation with great reverence. In the mean time, he calls his brother “unreliable”, “plotting evil”. These opposite descriptions create tension: what will happen next? The next lines (III,93b–118a), about the conspiracy against Ashurbanipal, have been written in the tempo ‘summary’. They are followed by the dream oracle (III,118b–127). One can identify this part as a ‘summary’, but it could also be argued this is a ‘scene’: communication takes place between the god and the king. This element moreover slows the story down. We have now learnt what the core of the conflict is, which helpers were mobilized by the opponent and what the message of the oracle is: the story can now develop itself further. The campaign takes of. Initially, everything is revealed in the form of a summary: besiegement, coup d’etat in Elam, another coup in Elam. A short scene takes place during the second coup (IV,12–18), in the middle of the flashback. This scene once again slows the story down, while also creating tension: Ashurbanipal shows mercy to Tammaritu. Will he do the same for Shamash-shuma-ukin and the inhabitants of Babylon? The ending (IV,41–109) is written in the form of a summary entirely. Distribution of representational time An attempt to quantify the amount of representational time for each event yields the following overview: a. insubordination

19½ lines (III,93b–111; IV,1; IV,11) b. oracle 9½ lines (III,118b–127) c. (internal) rebellion 22½ lines (III,70–93a) d. remorse enemy 13 lines (IV,28–40) e. cultic (mis)deeds 7½ lines (III,112–118a) f. battle 3 lines (III,133; IV,2; IV,12) g. divine intervention 9 lines (IV,21–22; IV,46–52) h. support third parties 9 lines (III,136–138; IV,3–8) i. flight enemy 14 lines (IV,13–20; IV,22–27) j. besiegement 5 lines (III,128–132) k. famine/disaster population 7 lines (III,134–135; IV,41–45) l. religious measures 17 lines (IV,77–91; IV,106– 107) m. annexation/change of government 14 lines (IV,92–105)

512 n. taxes o. punishment p. dividing the loot

chapter three 2 lines (IV,108–109) 20 lines (IV,53–61; IV,66–76) 2 lines (IV,64–65)

Compared to Sennacherib’s third campaign (III.4), it is striking that Ashurbanipal seems less interested in taxes and plundering, and more interested in cultic matters, divine intervention and oracles. It seems this is related to the special nature of this campaign. It seems the description of Sennacherib’s eighth campaign—a campaign which also led him to Babylon!—is more similar to our text. For this reason, it is not coincidental that Sennacherib’s name is mentioned in our story. Apparently, the conflict with Babylon hits a nerve in the collective or royal Assyrian psyche. Focalizations Although many characters appear in the story, almost nobody acts as a focalizator. The text consists of internal focalizations by Ashurbanipal himself for about 99%. He focalizes his brother as “unreliable” and: “Superficially he paid lip service to kindness, but deep in his heart his intentions were aimed at murder.” The only person, who is allowed to speak, is an unknown man, talking about his dream. The man remains a stranger, because he was probably experienced only as the medium through which the gods, in this case Sin or Nabu, made their will known. In a certain way, we could also notify Tammaritu as internal focalizator: we first hear from his about his presumptuous mockery; only later do we learn about his servile fear. Effects of focalizations One effect of highly one-sided focalizations is the suggestion of total control: just like the main character Ashurbanipal does not give the floor to any other character in his story, as an actor, he is constantly taking initiative and not letting anyone else do so. The other effect is that a moral claire-obscure arises. The tone of the entire text is aggrieved. All Ashurbanipal ever wanted is to do good, irrespective of whether it concerned his brother, his legation or the inhabitants of Babylon. In the end, Ashurbanipal does not hesitate to show mercy when a hostile king begs him for forgiveness, and to do the same for the inhabitants of Babylon who conspired against him. Unfortunately, he is only met with ungratefulness. His brother indeed

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enquires after his wellbeing, but his tone is insincere. Tammaritu does not even ask after his wellbeing. Ummanigash forgets that he is indebted to Ashurbanipal for his kingship. It is not the only time that political leaders, feeling they are living in a world filled with terrorists, employ a moralistic black-and-white view of the world. 3.7.4. The level of the text Repetition of sounds/play with sounds The first play with words can probably be found in Ashurbanipal’s name in l. I,1: anāku Aššur-

Aššur bānû

binûtu

-apli “I am ‘Ashur-is-the-procreator-of-the-heir’, the procreation of Ashur”. A similar play with words is made by Ashurbanipal about the name of his brother in l. III,71 Shamash-šuma-ūkin a u lā kēnu, ‘Shamash-who-determines-the-name’, the indeterminate/unreliable brother” In l. I,51, we have what is probably a standard combination of words: ūbu u u du, “affluence and abundance”.360 In r. III,84–92 we suddenly have four examples of a figura etymologica: III,84 dabāb lā kit-ti idbuba ittišun “telling them falsehoods”. “he sent them on a mission”. III,85–86 ina šipir . . . išpuraššunūti III,88 šīmat damqatim išimūšu “they established a good fate” III,91–92 lubulti birme ulabbissunūti “I gave them multicoloured clothes” In l. IV,5 an elegant repetition of š- and l-sounds: la išâlu šulum šarrūtīa “he did not ask about my well-being as king”

360

Borger in BIWA, 205 beautifully writes “Hülle und Fülle”.

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In l. IV,9 a figura etymologica: ana suppē ša [. . .] usappū “At my supplications, which I addressed” Followed by a beautiful, chiastically structured sentence in IV,10 unīnnī

×

išmû

ilqū

“my complaint they accepted,

zikir šaptīa

they heard the word on my lips”

Tammaritu’s sneering inspires him to use a play upon words when he continues to mock Teumman and Ummanigash: IV,16 inakkisū qaqqad šar kurelamma

“Does one cut off the head of the king of Elam”

IV,19 unaššiq qaqqaru

“how could he have kissed the ground”

A chiastic sentence, which reflects the idea ‘what comes around goes around’ in IV,43 ikpudū nebrētu

×

lemuttu

“they plotted evil,

i batsunūti

the famine got hold on them”

There is a repetition of sounds in IV,45: iksusū kurussu, “they chewed on belts”. Perhaps this was an onomatopeia for the though chewing? It seems we find a play with words in IV,50–51, when the gods ša igiranni ina miqit dgira ariri iddûššu—threw Shamash-shuma-ukin, “who had turned against me (igiranni)” into “burning fire ( gira)”. Again, this is saying: what goes around comes around. We find a repetition of sonds in IV,87: ullila sullēšunu lu’’ūti, “I cleansed the polluted streets”. All in all, we can conclude that the writer of these annals liked to play with sounds and words.

war in a number of extrabiblical texts Repetitions of words The following words can be denoted as motif words: banû I,5; III,89 * binutu I,1 * abu bānû I,7; I,27; I,44; III,73; IV,71 (to build, to create/procreate, natural father) bubūtu III,135; IV,59; IV,80 syn. nebrētu IV,43; IV,93 syn. uša u III,125 (famine) dagālu * dāgil pān III,83; III,93 * dagālu pān III,95 (to see, subject, to obey) inaru gareia (they kill my enemies)

I,38; IV,49

kapādu lemuttu III,117; III,123; IV,43; IV,68 Š-stem IV,54–55 (plotting evil, Š inciting to do evil) kēnu I,6 * lā kēnu III,70; III,96 * lā kittu III,84 * kittu u mišaru III,89 (true, unreliable, untruth, truth and justice) nabalkutu IV,1; IV,11 * Š-stam III,100 (to rebel, Š incite to rebellion) parāsu (to bring to a close)

III,83; III,108

rašû rēmu (to have pity)

IV,39; IV,94

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ana ša al šulmia III,85; IV,5 (in order to ask about my wellbeing) šakānu IV,42 * šakin mātāti šikin qātū a aštakkanu elišun IV,104–105 * šakānu ana šarrūtu III,72; III,102; III,104; III,136 * šakānu pišu III,106 * šakānu simate III,117 * šakānu dabdû III,133; IV,12; IV,69 * šakānu napištu III,135; IV,80 (to lay down, to appoint—in all the idiomatic expressions, the word gets a different meaning each time: see below) šarrūtu

I,4; I,7; I,20; I,21; I,24; I,26; I,26; I,36; I,39; III,73; III,101

(kingship) takālu * tiklu (trust)

III,127 I,9; IV,101

The motif words demonstrate the most important interests the writers have. The most important one is the king’s legitimacy. The word ‘kingship’ is used most often. The theme of being a physical son of the king is also repeated frequently. The king appoints all kinds of officials (šakānu). These are his subordinates (dagālu pān). When they cease to be his subordinates, it is called a rebellion (nabalkutu), and ‘plotting evil’ (kapādu lemuttu). The word ‘evil’ is the opposite of the word dumqu (goodness, for example in III,71 and 78), for instance showing the goodness of Ashurbanipal versus the evilness of Shamash-shuma-ukin and the rebels in claire-obscure. Especially the chiastic structure in l. III,78–79 is meaningful: “he himself forgot the favour I had done to and he started to plot evil”. The word kittu (truth, trustworthiness, sincerity) is used in all its glory and all its various meaning: the king who has been appointed by the solid (kēnu: I,6) order of the gods, is also seeking truth and justice (kittu u mīšaru: III,89), while the untrustworthy brother (lā kēnu: III,70; III,96) is telling untruths (lā kittu: III,84). As an aside, it is striking that Ashurbanipal boasts about his willingness to forgive, going so far as to forgive the injustice that was done to him.

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The writer seems to have a preference for the verb šakānu (to lay, to lay down, to determine, to appoint). This verb is used in all kinds of combinations. The king appoints (šakānu ana šarrūtu) vassals and viceroys (šakin mātāti). The rebels, however, come to a treacherous concord with each other (šakānu pi ). This leads to their defeat (šakānu dabdû), even to their demise (šakānu napištu). Repetition of themes ‘Food’ seems to form a theme in the story. Legitimate kingship leads to abundance and prosperity, but usurpation leads to injustice and famine. It is already depicted in the introduction how Adad opens the sluices of the heaves after Ashurbanipals’ inthronization and makes the fields shine with growing wheat. This theme returns throughout the story of the sixth campaign. The legation is received at the plentiful table, but as soon as the rebellion starts, so does the famine (see the discussion of motif words above). A dramatic lowest point in all of this is that parents eat their children (IV,45: akālū). As a punishment, Ashurbanipal causes them to be eaten (IV,75: ušakil), as forage to wild animals (IV,81: ukulti ). Intertextuality In the year 666 B.C. the court exorcist Adad-shumu-u ur writes a letter to Ashurbanipal.361 In this letter, Ashurbanipal’s government is described in similar terms as the description in lines I,45–51: palû damqu umū kenūti, šanātu ša mēšari, zummī a dūti, milī gapšūti: “a good government, days of truth and years of justice, abundant rains, huge amounts of water”. Although the atmosphere of both texts is comparable, the verbal similarities are limited. Just the words zummu, ‘rain’, and a ādu, ‘to be abundant’, are used in both texts. Zummu is not abundant in the annals, but it is let to flow by itself (wuššurum). The word a ādu is used in the annals in the form of the substantivum u du, ‘abundance’, which was derived from it. A great number of requests for oracles by Shamash is know from the period of Esarhaddon’s and Ashurbanipal’s reign.362 It is interesting to

361 Letter nr. 226 from: S. Parpola, Letters from Assyrian and Babylonian Scholars, 177–178. 362 Starr, Queries to the Sungod. Also see footnote 7.

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see whether we can point out connections between the annals and the oracle requests. A first point of similarity is the manner in which Shamash-shumaukin is assigned the epithet a u lā kēnu (the unreliable brother) both in the annals and in the requests.363 We also find the epithet for Ashurbanipal (binût dAššur/qātēka, creation of Ashur/from your hands) in both text bodies.364 A second similarity lies in the word kapādu (to plan/to plot). This term is frequently a standard part of the research question, but normally always in combination with the verb arāmu (to try, to strive after). In request 287, l. 13, for example, we read the question li-i -rim-mu lik-pi-du lil-li-ka: “Will they (sc. the Assyrian troops) make an attempt, plot and march?” The same verb kapādu appears in Sin’s dream, in combination with the word lemuttu, “to plot evil”. Above, we stated that this verb is one of the motif words. Plotting in the annals is not so much something Ashurbanipal does, but something that is said of Shamash-shuma-ukin and other enemies. Something similar can be said about the punishments announced by Sin for those who mean to do evil things. We find these punishments in the form of a question, when people ask in which way the Assyrian king should beat an enemy or conquer a city.365 In Sin’s dream, the following punishments are mentioned: ina patri a-an- i mi-qit gira uša u li-pit der-ra (“with the quick sword, fire, famine, or an invasion of the plague”). Eph al already made up a list of the various besiegement tactics that are mentioned in the requests for oracles and in his enumeration uša u (famine) is also mentioned. In the older tamītu’s (oracle requests to Shamash and Adad) he discovers nine other battle techniques, among which the patru (the sword) and fire, although the latter is called išātu instead of gira.366 The li-pit der-ra, the invasion of the plague (literally: attack by Erra) is missing in the oracle requests. Eph al also noticed this and he stated on this topic: “One form of hardship due to the blockade of a city is plague—but one member of the triad of calamities—plague, bloodshed and famine—typical of sieges in ancient Near Eastern sources that touch on this kind of warfare. There are many references to bloodshed and famine in the Assyrian

363

In the annal l. III,70 and in th Queries, nr. 282, obv. 18. In the annal l. I,1 and in the Queries, nr. 280, l. rev. 13 and nr. 282, l. rev. 4. 365 See I. Eph al, “Ways and Means to Conquer a City, Based on Assyrian Queries to the Sungod”, in: Parpola en Whiting (eds.), Assyria 1995, 49–53. 366 Eph al, “Ways and Means to Conquer a City”, 51–52. 364

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royal inscriptions and in the Bible. Plague, however, is rarely mentioned as a means of capturing a city, and it is not mentioned at all in the queries to the gods. This absence may be due to the realization that, while bloodshed and famine may be initiated and maintained by human agency, it is not within man’s power to inflict (or remove) plague, which is reserved exclusively for the god(s).”367 All things considered, we can conclude that, if there is indeed a reference to the genre of the oracle requests, this reference seems to be meant to belittle the human role in attaining victory, and at the same time to enlarge the role of the gods. The dream is not an answer to a question by Ashurbanipal, but it is a spontaneous encouragement of this king by Sin. He does not ask Ashurbanipal whether he should ‘plan’, but the enemy is planning in advance. Ashurbanipal does not take council on whether he should go out and fight, using tactics such as starvation and attacks with weapons, but instead Sin announces that he will strike the enemy with famine, the sword and the plague. We also checked whether we can speak of intertextuality with the Erra epos.368 After all: Erra’s name is mentioned four times in this part of the annals (III, 114, 126, 134; IV, 79). For this reason, we wonder whether it is correct to systematically translate this name with the word ‘pestilence’ here.369 We moreover learn from the ending of this epos that the Erra epos was revealed to Kabti-ilāni-Marduk in a dream. In colomn V,43 of the epos, it says that: ina šat mu-ši u-šab-ri-šu-ma, ‘at night, he (a god) showed it to him’, which reminds us an awful lot of the dream received by the unknown man in the annals: ina šat mu-ši i-na-a - a-al šuttu, ‘he saw a dream at night’ (III,119–120).

367

Eph al, “Ways and Means to Conquer a City”, 51. Cagni thinks we should not call this work an epos, nor should we call it a myth. He prefers the bleak label ‘poem’. See L. Cagni, The Poem of Erra (SANE 1/3), Malibu 1977, 8–13. CoS calls it “Erra and Ishum”, which is elegant, but not very practical. For the sake of ease, we will stick with the indication Erra epos, especially because we doubt whether the ancient Mesopotamians made such a clear distinction between myths about gods and epics about human heroes. The epithet that was most used for Erra was moreover ‘hero’ and the text is a true heroic poem in this sense, too. 369 Cagni, The Poem of Erra, 14–16 initially opposes the labelling of Erra as the god of the plague. He would prefer to regard Erra as a warrior, who uses fire and hunger to destroy. He is, as it were, the embodiment of the phenomenon of war and all the ‘plagues’ that come with a war. 368

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The Erra-epos supposedly stems from the end of the seond millennium, but it was very popular during the first centuries of the first millennium. Many copies of the epos are known to us, among others from Ashurbanipal’s library, collected by Ashurbanipal himself according to the colophon. People carried parts of the work with them as amulets. The popularity of the work can hardly be explained from the fact that the story is exciting, because it can hardly be called so. The text more closely resembles a didactic dialogue. Its fame has to be explained on the basis of its theology, which must have been experienced as soothing by the people. Erra is the embodiment of war, and as such, Erra has a Janus head, says the epos. He is ‘malevolent en benevolent’, as Cagni puts it.370 One of the positive sides of war is that it brings out virtues in human beings, such as courage. Erra is the qarrad ilāni, ‘the hero of the gods’ (I,5), just like Ashurbanipal is zikaru qardu, ‘the heroic man’ (I,39), but these are clichés. Still, the theme of heroism is a theme that the annals and the epos have in common. Erra awakens the decadent and sleeping god Marduk in the epos, after which the god himself gives him permission to strike. Heroes are necessary at times. Even to just express praise of these heroes has a beneficial result: Ashurbanipal IV, 35 i-dal-la-lu qur-di ilāni-ia dan-nu-ti they praised te heroic acts of my great gods

Erra V, 52 rubû ša ta-nit-ti qar-ra-du-ti-ia i-dabbu-bu ma- i-ra a-a irši the king who gives praise to my heroism will have no equal

War moreover offers the opportunity to start over, building on the ruins of what was destroyed. This is explicitly mentioned in the dialogue in which Erra tells Marduk that he will cleanse (I,181: ub-ba-bu-ma), the latters ‘robes’ with fire ( girru), after which he will be able to return (I,181: ta-tu-ra). Ashurbanipal also says in his annals that he is cleansing the sanctuaries of Babylon with his war (IV,86: ub-bib), restoring the offerings in all their previous glory (IV,91: u-tir-ma). Fire plays an important role in both texts, which is perhaps not so remarkable for a war text. Something more remarkable, given the 370

Cagni, The Poem of Erra, 15.

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fact that it happens so seldomly, is the theme that someone is carried through the streets naked. Ashurb. IV, 26–27 mi-ra-nu-uš-šu-un ina muJJi libbīšu-nu ip-ši-lu-nim-ma il-liku they crept naked on their and they came

Erra III, 20 e -la me-ra-nu-uš-šu ri-bit āli u-šal-lak I will lead the young man through the streets of the city naked

The comfort offered by the mention of this type of disasters must have been that, according to this poem, these events did not happen without Marduk knowing about them; rather they had a purpose. For example, the purpose of punishment: Ashurb. IV, 68, 56–62 ik-pu-du lemuttu ša [. . .] la im-qu-tu ina gira, ša la-pa-an ni-kis patri su-un-qi bu-bu-ti gira a-ri-ri i-še-tu-u e- u-zu mar-qitu sa-par ilāni rabūtim bēlī-ia ša lā na-par-šu-di is- u-up-šu-nu-ti who had plotted evil those who had not thrown themselves into the fire who had escaped the sharpness of the sword, poverty, famine, and the blazing fire and had sought refuge, the ineluctable net of the great god, my lords, caught them

Erra IV, 74–75, 80–82 mi-ša-ra i-zi-ba-ma lemutta kap-da ša ina qab-lu la im-tu-tu i-mat ina šip- i ša giškakki šarri la ik-tal-du ru-bu-u u-šam-qat-su ša rubû la uš-ta-am-qi-tu-šu dAdad i-raa - i-is-su ša dAdad la ir-taJ-Su-šu dŠamaš i-tabbal-šu they neglected justice and plotted evil who did not die in the battle, died because of the plague who did not win from the weapons of the king he was killed by a prince, and who was not killed by a prince, he was washed away by Adad and who was not washed away by Adad, he was taken away by Shamash.

The other side of the Janus head is not forgotten. War is also terrible:

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Ashurb. IV, 79–81 Erra II, 57, 65 pagrū niši ša der-ra u-šam-qi-tu nišī u-šam-qat-ma na-piš-tu [. . .] u ša ina su-un-qi bu-bu-ti iš-ku-nu na-piš-tu ri- e-et u-kul-ti kalbī u-ma-am nam-si-ka [. . .] u-še-er-rab the bodies of the people whom the people I will kill and their lives Erra had slain or who had lost [. . .] their lives to poverty and hunger the remains, left by the dogs wild animals of ? [. . .] I will let them go inside. For this reason, Erra is reprimanded when he steps out of line. It is Ishum (‘fire’, actually), who has a Janus head, just like Erra. He is both a destructive and a warming fire. Ishum is therefore the first to pity Erra and address him. Ashurb. IV, 94 re-e-mu ar-ši-šu-nu-ti I showed mercy with them

Erra III, 101 re-e-ma ir-ta-ši He showed mercy

Ashurb. III, 122

Erra III, 107–110 a-na qu-ra-du der-ra amāta izakkar min-su a-na ili u amēli lemutta tak-pu-ud u a-na nišī al-mat qaqqadi lemuttu tak-pu-ud-ma la ta-tur ana arki-ka until the hero Erra he (Ishum) spoke the words: why do you plot evil against gods and people? And will you not return when you have plotted evil against black-headed people?

ma ša it-ti aš-šur-bānû-apli [. . .] ik-pu-du lemuttu

who plots evil against Ashurbanipal

Lastly, there is a third source of comfort in the Erra epos, this being the prophetic promise of a saviour. In a period, in which brothers will be trying to kill each other, someone will stand up:

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III, 108, 81 ip-ru-sa a ū-tu libba-šu ka ir ni-ir-tu

IV, 135–136 bītu bīta a-me-lum a-me-lum a u a u lā i-gam-mi-lu-ma li-na-ru a- a-miš u ar-ka ak-ka-du lit-be-e-ma nap- ar-šu-nu li-šam-qit-ma li-ir-’a-a na-gab-šu-un House will not spare house, nor person person, he broke the fraternal bond nor brother brother, his heart intended murder but they will kill each other, afterwards, a man from Akkad will arise and he will bring all of them down and he will protect all of them. On the whole, we have to admit that the intertextual references here are not very strong. At the same time, the ideology of the Erra epos seems to lie uncanningly close to the ideology of Ashurbanipal. The Erra epos deals with the war against Babylon; its message is that a war can have positive sides at times; it laid responsibility for the terrible events with the god Erra and eventually promised a saviour would come. Ashurbanipal wanted to present himself as the man who both ‘killed’ and ‘protected’ Babylon. The war, including the death of his brother and the destruction in Babylon was an unfortunate as well as a necessary, almost surgical intervention, which did not have any impact on his good intentions. Metaphors A salient aspect of this text is that it contains very little metaphors. The “ineluctable net of the great gods” (IV,61) is one.371 Furthermore, there are expressions about which one can wonder whether they are metaphors, archaic expressions or hyperboles. Examples of such turns of phrases are Ashurbanipal’s “shepherdship” (I,5), “who had clenched my royal feet” (III,101), “kissing the ground” (IV,19), “kissing the feet and wiping the floor with his beard” (IV,28–29). But compared to all the ornithological and meteorological imagery of Sennacherib, this text may be called extremely sober. 371 Streck, Die Bildersprache, 105–106: Gilgamesh is also called saparru, ‘net’. The synonym, šētu, is used more frequently in the epics. See p. 137, Erra r. IV,18vv: “The inhabitants of Babylon—they are a bird and you are a stool pigeon—you have caught in your net”.

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Structure Gerardi regarded the text as built on two ‘fork constructions’ and one additional single storyline. She made the following scheme to illustrate her thought:372 Part 1 at that time

Part II

Part III

at that time Prophecy

Shamash-shum-ukin plots Ummanigash and foreign kings revolt

Ummanigash In my 6th campaign At that time Tammaritu Indabibi Babylonia conquered Famine Death of Shamas-shumukin Prophecy fulfilled Prophecy fulfilled Aftermath

She shows how, in comparison to older versions of the annals, the writers tried to intertwine the story lines of Babylon and Elam. The campaign to Elam ended before the besiegement of Babylon. Seeing as that no verifiable victory was reported from the Babylonian front, the annals written before 648 B.C. do not mention it. Seeing as that the stories of Elam and Babylon were related, however, the writer of annal A attempted to intertwine both story lines. Both story lines are connected because of the figure of Ummanigash and through the prophecy, which forms the ending of each of the three parts of the story. Although Gerardi makes very valuable observations, the structure above does not offer many insights. Seeing as that the text has chiasms at every level, it seemed worthwhile to us to search for them in the entire text. We suspect that the kink is somewhere near the turn of phrase “during my sixth campaign”. We think we detected the following structure:

372

Gerardi, Ashurbanipal’s Elamite Campaigns, 172.

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A “In those days”: I did good deeds (dumqu), I appointed as king (šakānu) division among the inhabitants of Babylon (III,70–86) B “I, Ashurbanipal for whom the great gods have established a favourable fate” (III,87–89) C “I let these inhabitants of Babylon go to table” (III,90–93) D Shamashumukin does not respect his oath and incites rebellion (III,93–100) E Ummanigash, who I had appointed (šakānu), too (III, 101–106) F The gates of Sippar, Babylon and Borsippa he closed (III,107–111) G He ended the offering and plotted evil (III,112– 118) X “in those days” a dream (III,118–126) “Whomever plots evil against Ashurbanipal, I will give a nasty death. With the quick sword, fire, famine or pestilence” G’ I trusted the word of Sin (III,127) (During my sixth campaign) F’ In Sippar, Borsippa and Kutha, I surrounded him: pestilence, starvation, famine (III,128–135) E’ Ummanigash, appointed by myself (šikin), beheaded Teumman (‘sword’?) (III,136–IV,40) D’ the gods hand Shamash-shuma-ukin ‘who had turned himself against me’ over to the fire (IV,41–69) C’ “Their flesh I have fed to dogs, swines and jackals etc” (IV,70–86) B’ “I calmed the heart of the great gods” (IV,87–91) A’ I showed mercy (rēmu), I appointed stadholders (šakānu), I took measures with respect to loyal and disloyal citizens of Babylon (IV,92–109) This structure shows the extent to which Ashurbanipal’s ideology is an ideology of tit for tat. He strives for the good, but evil punishes itself. Put differently: the gods take care that the twists of fate they settled on are actually carried out. Whoever does not respect their will, is given over to death by them (D–D’). Declining dinner at laid out tables even leads to being eaten (C–C’). Usurpation leads to an endless series of new usurpations, so that whoever takes up the sword will be killed by the sword (E–E’). Closing the gates to the enemy irrevocably implies closing the gates to food (F–F’). In the centre (X) of the text, the tit

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for tat-principle is explicitly mentioned: “Whomever plots evil against Ashurbanipal, I will give a nasty death”. The clothes in which death will be dressed (sword, fire, famine or the pest) form the agenda of the second part of the text. Trusting (pointedly expressed with the word takālu here) the words of the god, Ashurbanipal begins his sixth campaign at that very moment; this gives the campaign the appearance of being the fulfillment of the prophecy.373 It is not true what Gerardi wrote about the prophecy being fulfilled twice. Twice, we hear the (almost!) complete list of disasters, but the key characteristic of the entire course of the sixth campaign is the occurrence of ‘prophetic’ disasters. The plague, famine and poverty are the fate of the inhabitants of Sippar, of Borsippa and Kutha. The sword befalls the Elamite kings. Famine is the fate of the inhabitants of Akkad and Shamash-shuma-ukin dies in the fire. The structure above does not show us immediately that the second narrative round is much longer than the first. In the following scheme, we get a better picture:

Element

First round (A until G)

A B C D E F G X Total

16 3 4 9 6 5 7 9 50 (excluding X)

second round (A’ until G’) 18 5 16 29 43 8 1 122

373 For this reason, we disagree completely with A.L. Oppenheim, The Interpretation of Dreams in the Ancient Near East: With a Translation of an Assyrian Dream Book, Philadelphia 1956, when he writes on p. 201: “In terms of literary criticism, this incident is not used as a device to explain or motivate a course of action taken by the king; its purpose is merely to add color to the description of a specific situation, in this case, the outbreak of the civil war [. . .]” The dream is more than a simple literary embellishment; rather, it forms the back-bone of the sixth campaign. It makes it clear to us that the gods came to Ashurbanipal’s aid, while attempts by Shamash-shuma-ukin to isolate Ashurbanipal from his gods have the opposite effect. As an aside, Oppenheim states that Ashurbanipal had this dream in Babylon. It is not clear what he bases his statement on, but if it is true, Ashurbanipals dream mostly seems a medium through which the enemy is warned. In II,95–110, king Gyges of Lydia has a dream that tells him that he should submit himself to Ashurbanipal.

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The second narrative round is 2,5 times as long as the first. The reason for this will probably have been that the theme of the first round is mostly rebellion, while punishment is the theme of the second round. Punishment is much more important than rebellion from an ideological point of view. It is also interesting to inspect the two longest scenes, scenes D’ and E’. These two scenes show great similarities in their structure. The theme of D and D’ is Shamash-shuma-ukin’s rebellion, the theme of E and E’ is the rebellion of the kings of Elam, Ummanigash and Tammaritu. E’ III,136–IV,8 Ummanigash killed with weapons IV,9–22 Ashur and Ishtar come into action IV,23–40 Tammaritu shows remorse, praises the gods and receives mercy

D’ IV,41–52 Famine in Babylon IV,46–52

gods come into action IV,53–69 soldiers who slander Ashur, have their tongue cut of

In both cases, punishment is administered by the gods. Exactly like Ashurbanipal said in his introduction: the gods would fight for him. Ashurbanipal also makes it clear to us that he is doing this for the honour of the gods. He does not continue to be revengeful against Tammaritu, after the latter shows remorse. Instead, he forgives him. But he has no piety for Shamash-shuma-ukin’s helpers, not even for Shamash-shuma-ukin himself. The net of the great gods falls on them irrevocably (IV,61). A pointed verbalization of the tit for tat-principle takes place in scene E’ in the word mēri tu (IV,14), the attack of ‘mockery’ by Tammaritu on Teumman, which is answered by Ashur and Ishtar with an ‘attack’ iri ušu (IV,22) We also come across chiasms on a regular basis at the level of the individual scene. For example in the introduction, when the relationship between Ashurbanipal, as king, and the gods is concerned:

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I,8–22 Esarhaddon has all of Assyria swear loyalty to Ashurbanipal in an oath (gods) I,23–34 Ashurbanipal moves into the house of succession (royal succession) I,35–38 the gods entrust Ashurbanipal with the care for their santuaries. In their turn they wage war for him (relationship gods-kings) I,39–40 self-predication, ‘a royal descendent am I’ (royal succession) I,41–51 prosperity after the rise to the throne of Ashurbanipal (gods) In III,70–85, when Ashurbanipal grandly receives Shamash-shumaukin’s legation, the latter is in reality plotting evil plans. 70–77 Ashurbanipal appoints Shamash-shuma-ukin as king 82–86 Shamash-shuma-ukin forgets the good deeds and plots evil 82–85 Shamash-shuma-ukin brings division under the inhabitants of Babylon We can also point out parallell structures, for example in III,93b–118a, when Shamash-shuma-ukin tries to isolate Ashurbanipal from the subjects and the gods. 93b–100a inhabitants of Akkad etc., “subjects, who were subordinate to me” (centre) 100b–102 the king of Elam, “appointed by myself ” (East) 103–106 the kings of Gutium etc. “appointed by myself ” (West and South) 107 –111 gates of Sippar, Babylon and Borsippa were closed (access to the cities) 112–114 offers for Bel, and he ended the son of Bel (access to the gods) 115–118a he raided the cult locations (access to the cult locations) 3.7.5. The theology/ideology of the text Focalization of the king The most important information about the way in which the king focalizes himself can once again be found in the introduction. First and foremost, Ashurbanipal emphasizes his legitimacy, mentioning three grounds for it. The first reason is his royal descent. His divine election

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is the next, as guaranteed by the oath of loyalty taken by the entire empire, enforced by his father as extraordinarily binding (I,22). This aspect plays an important role in the campaigns: vassals and brothers that did not keep this oath, automatically disqualified themselves, being untrustworthy (III,96–97). Lastly, Ashurbanipal outlines his suitability for his position: he has both wisdom and knowledge, as well as military and equestrian skills. In line I,39, he summarizes three categories in opposite (chiastic!) order: courage (personal skill), election by the gods (divine legitimation because of the oath) and his descent (inherited right to succession). As we have seen, Ashurbanipal continues to announce that he regards it as is his assignment to maintain the cults, while the gods are in charge of beating the enemies in return. This is precisely Ashurbanipal’s message. Kings and vassals that start a rebellion break the divine oath and moreover make it impossible for him to maintain the cults. The gods will have to interfere for both these reasons, and so they do. An aspect that seems to have been added to campaigns, as compared to the introduction, is the aspect that Ashurbanipal likes to depict himself as a king who strives for the good and can at times be harsh, but is also forgiving when he can. We also came across this theme in the Report to Ashur by Esarhaddon, although the emphasis was the opposite: Esarhaddon hinted that he could forgive once, but there are limits to his patience. With Sennacherib, such texts are inconceivable. Sennachib wishes to purely use deterrance to achieve his goal, while Ashurbanipal at least tries to gain the support of the peoples that he has conquered. Valuation of the war Sennacherib saw war as a political-legal instrument. The same is true with Ashurbanipal. Ashurbanipal sets out to fight in order to bring back justice and punish the villains. Yet, there are differences in emphasis. Sennacherib purely used the instrumental criterion of success and economic gain (loot). Ashurbanipal seems to evaluate the war on moral grounds: to what extent does the war establish greater dominance of good over evil? This is the reason that Ashurbanipal likes to announce that he is restoring order in daily life in Babylon. On the other hand, Ashurbanipal seems to recognize the Janus-headlike nature of war. War comes with a lot of misery for citizens: pest, hunger, fire, sword. Still, Ashurbanipal seems to want to suggest that no innocent victims are made, for example by explicitly mentioning that “famine got hold on the people of Akkad, who had token the side

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of Shamash-shuma-ukin” (IV,41–43) Each gets what he deserves. The repetitive mention of Erra in the story suggests that war means the same here as it does in the epos in which Erra has the leading part: war is cutting back dead wood, so that a city can face a new, clean slate for the future afterwards. Effect of the valuation of the war on the valuation of the king The effect of the valuation of the war on the king is positive. Ashurbanipal did everything he could to prevent the war (he had been good to Shamash-shuma-ukin, even more than his father had obliged him to be). But now that the other person instigates aggression, he is piously awaiting the will of the gods and quickly and effectively restores the order of things with their help (at least, this is the suggestion made by Ashurbanipal). Focalization of the gods With Ashurbanipal, the gods are the destinateurs of human history, the source of the legitimacy of the king therefore, the ones who wage war. In comparison to the annals of Sennacherib, Ashurbanipal uses a much more religious tone. The gods are mentioned constantly. Note, by the way, the changing composition in which they appear: – Ashur and Mulissu (I,1; IV,101) or Ashur and Ishtar (I,39) as the divine ‘father and mother’ of Ashurbanipal. – Ashur and Sin (I,3), apparently the ones that have called Ashurbanipal to kingship. – Shamash, Adad and Ishtar also order Ashurbanipal to become king (I,6) – Ashur, Mulissu, Sin, Shamash, Adad, Bel, Nabu, Ishtar of Nineveh, Sharrat-Kidmuri, Ishtar of Arbela, Ninurta, Nergal and Nuska (I,14–17; I,41–43; IV,46–48) apparently count as some sort of a collective name for the entire pantheon, in other words the ‘great gods’ (III,88; III,115; IV,61; IV,78) or ‘angry gods and incensed goddesses’ (IV,88). – Sin is the one who apperently provides the beneficial omen to go to war in this story (III,118–127). Is it a coincidence of historical events or is there a special reason that Sin is the one to give the assigment here? It is remarkable, however, that a number of text-witnesses assign a role to Nabu in the dream. – Ashur and Ishtar once again have a decisive role in the scene with Tammaritu (IV,9; IV,22 en IV,33).

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– Erra plays the role of war god. – Adad takes care of rain and Ea of the groundwater (I,45). All in all, it seems that Ashurbanipal’s ‘contract’ (I,37–38) with the gods applies to the entire pantheon. He will take care of their cults, and they will act in war when Ashurbanipal is hindered by this war. Especially Ashur and Mulissu seem to be connected more to the dynasty and less to the state, because Ashurbanipal is imposing offers to “Ashur and Mulissu and the gods of Assyria” (IV,101) on the Babylonians, and he moreover mentions himself as a “creation/ procreation” of these two gods. Ashur and Ishtar are either his personal helpers, or caretakers of justice. Sin, who was mentioned first after Ashur and Mulissu in the list of the pantheon, acts as the spokesperson of this pantheon (in I,3 and in the dream oracle). If we continue to read the prism, we come across another interesting part in a theological sense in lines IX,75–89. Five of the gods that are mentioned regularly are brought forward in their miltary sense: Mulissu, the wild cow, brings down Ashurbanipal’s enemies with her horns, Ishtar of Arbela is dressed with fire, Erra hits down his opponents, Ninurta is the arrow how pierces through the throats of enemies and Nuska positions him/herself at the forefront of Ashurbanipal’s army. Relationship between divine and human activity Tit for tat and do ut des seem to describe the relationship between humans and the gods. The gods are at the top of the pyramid, the king is below, the vassals and viceroys are one step below that and the rest of the people are at the bottom of the pyramid. The gods appoint a king to keep up their cults, and in this manner guarantee prosperity for the people. Do ut des. Whenever good is answered with bad, however, this changes into tit for tat, direct transaction. The gods are fighting for the king in this last scenario. Theology/ideology of the text The ideology of the text is imperialistic. This imperialism is dressed up in rather idealistic attire: the victory on the enemy is supportive of law and order. More than his predecessors, Ashurbanipal regards himself police of the world. One can wonder to which extent this was a gain from a moral perspective. Ashurbanipal, more than his predecessors, wants to create the impression that he is basing his actions on noble motives. One could deconstruct this aim as an attempt to legitimate

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his own hunger for power even more. Whatever way, legitimacy seems to be a more important theme with Ashurbanipal than with his predecessors—it seems almost comparable to the interest Zakkur takes in this theme, for example. The language, as wel as the ideology therefore have a much more religious tone than with Esarhaddon and with Sennacherib. But once again, the key message is: The ideology of the Assyrian empire, as remarked by many scholars, is basically dualistic. Assyria and Assyrian life and beliefs are good and are to be contrasted with the life and beliefs of the outside, non-Assyrian world; Assyria is dominant because its god is dominant.374

3.8. The Verse Account of Nabonidus 3.8.1. Introduction to the Verse Account of Nabonidus Translation Text edition and translation: – S. Smith, Babylonian Historical Texts Relating to the Capture and Downfall of Babylon (BHT), London 1924, 83–91 – H. Schaudig, Die Inschriften Nabonids von Babylon und Kyros’ des Großen, samt den in ihrem Umfeld entstandenen Tendenzschriften: Textausgabe und Grammatik (AOAT bd. 256), Münster 2001, 565–578 Translation: – B. Landsberger and T. Bauer, “Zu neuveröffentlichten Geschichtsquellen der Zeit von Asarhaddon bis Nabonid”, ZA 37 (1926–1927), 89–98 – A.L. Oppenheim in ANET, 312–315 Column I strophe a1 lack of law enforcement [. . .]375 1 [. . .] 374

Gerardi, Ashurbanipal’s Elamite Campaigns, 41. This is Schaudig’s method of marking the lines that are illegible but must have been visible. It is unclear whether he does so based on collation or because he assumes the system of strophes with four lines was so strict that these lines must have been there. We will include these lines in some cases and call them line 0, even when this line should actually get number a number 1, which is the case in column III for example. 375

war in a number of extrabiblical texts [True] and just [ judgments] were not promulgated by him. [. . . fam]ine, the nobles he killed with the sword.

2 3

strophe a2 economic malaise 4 [. . .] the merchant he blocked the road. 5 [. . .] he deprived of the basket. 6 [. . .] was not in the land. 7 [The farmer on the field] did not sing a song. strophe a3 destruction of capital 8 [. . .] he did not divide the field. 9 [. . .] he dug, the unhitched. 10 [. . .] their possessions, he scattered their property. 11 [. . .] he ruined completely. strophe a4 population withers away 12 [. . .] their bodies on a dark [ place].376 13 [. . .] their [broad] shoulders became narrow. 14 [. . .] their countenances were changed. 15 [. . .] they did not pass the squares. strophe a5 loss of the gods’support 16 [. . .] you do not see happiness any more. 17 [. . .] is not happy, they decided. 18 [. . .] his tutelary god changed towards him. 19 [. . . the g]ods stepped aside. strophe a6 Nabonidus makes a statue of the god 20 [. . .go]ds he did unholy things. 21 [. . .] he built something worthless. 22 [A god ] no one in the country had seen [before] 23 [. . .] he placed it upon a pedestal. strophe a7 description of the statue (1) 24 [. . .] he called it by the name Nanna. 25 [Of gold and ] lapis lazuli he wears his crown.

376

Poetic for ‘dungeon’.

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26 [. . .] his appearance is that of an eclipsed Sin. 27 [He stretche]s his hand out like LUGAL.ŠU.DU. strophe a8 description of the statue (2) 28 [. . .] his hair stood on the pedestal 29 [Leaning on] his [socle] are the Flood(dragon) and the Wild Bull. 30 [. . .] his crown, became his appearance. 31 [. . .] he changed his countenance. strophe a9 (?) 32 [. . . he made] grow its stature. 33 [. . .] gal was his name. 34 [. . . un]der him. 35 [. . .] Column II strophe b1 Nabonidus’ heresy [. . .] 1 [. . .] 2 wich Ea-Mummu not had formed, 3 Not even the learned Adapa knew his name. strophe b2 Nabonidus’ plan to build the E.hul.hul 4 “I will build his house, I will design his dwelling, 5 I will mould his bricks, I will lay his foundation. 6 A replica, comparable in dignity to the E.kur377 I will make. 7 By the name E.hul.hul I will call it for ever. strophe b3 Nabonidus neglects other gods and rites 8 When I have finished what I am building, 9 I will take him by the hand and will settle him in his dwelling 10 Until I have achieved it and obtained my desire, 11 I will omit festivals, I will even cause the New Year feast to cease.

377 Or: the Esagila. The E.kur (lit. ‘mountain house’) was originally Enlil’s temple, but the term later became synonymous to ‘temple’ and also to the Esagila. Also see line 5 of the Cyrus Cylinder, in which the Esagila is explicitly mentioned.

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strophe b4 Nabonidus builds his temple 12 He made the bricks, he designed the outlines. 13 He placed the foundation, he raised the summit. 14 He made the front brillant with gypsum and bitumen 15 A mighty wild bull like the one of Esagila he posted in front of it. strophe b5 Nabonidus hands his responsibilities over to his son 16 After he had obtained his desire and the de[ceit]ful work 17 had accomplished, the abomination, the unholy work, at the beginning of the third year, 18 he entrusted the army to his firstborn, his oldest son. 19 The troops of the countries he ordered under his command. strophe b6 Nabonidus goes on a journey 20 He let everything go and entrusted the kingship to him, 21 while he himself set out on a far journey. 22 The military forces of Akkad marched with him. 23 To the city of Tema in Amurru he turned his face. strophe b7 Nabonidus’ crimes in Tema 24 He started a far journey. When he arrived, 25 he kille the king of Tema with a [weapon]. 26 He slaughtered the flocks of those who dwell in the city and in the countryside. 27 And he, himself, took residence in Tema, the forces of Akkad [were with him]. strophe b8 Nabonidus builds a palace in Tema 28 He made the town beautiful, built [there a palace]. 29 He built it like the palace in Babylon [. . .] 30 The treasures of the city and the l[and he stored in it] 31 A guard surrounded it [. . .] strophe b9 repression of the population 32 [The people] wailed [. . .] 33 The brick mould [and brick basket he imposed upon them] 34 Through the hard work [. . .]

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Column III [. . .] [. . .] 1 [. . .] 2 Two months [. . .] strophe c1 other misdeeds 3 He killed the people [. . . man and ] 4 woman, young and [ grown up. . . .] 5 Their possessions he wasted [. . .] 6 The grain therein [. . .] strophe c2 unrest in the army 7 His troops, tired but sle[epless] 8 “When will this end [. . .]” 9 Until the com[mander . . .] 10 The city prefect of Cyrus [. . .] Column IV (too fragmentary to divide into strophes) 1 [. . .] 2 Of [. . .] 3 After [. . .] 4 The reed stylus [. . .] 5 The king was angry [. . .] 6 The lord of the reed stylus [. . .] 7 [. . .] 8 With a guard [. . .] 9 At his base a crown [. . .] 10 Forces [. . .] 11 Just like [. . .] 12 [. . .] Column V strophe e1 Nabonidus’ deceptive propaganda (1) [. . .] 1 [. . .] 2 The praise of the Lord of Lords [. . .] 3 what he did not conquer, he wrote on it [. . .]

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strophe e2 Nabonidus’ deceptive propaganda (2) 4 While Cyrus, king of the world, was ruling [. . .] 5 [his yoke] the kings of all lands pull. 6 On his stelas he wrote: “Before my feet [I made him bow], 7 his countries my hands have conquered, his possessions I took [to my palace].” strophe e3 Nabonidus pretends to be wise (1) 8 He stood in the assembly and to praise him[self ]: 9 “I am wise, learned, I have seen what is [hidden] 10 Even if I do not know how to write with the stylus, I have seen [the mysteries] 11 Ilteri has made me see a vision, he has shown me everything. strophe e4 Nabonidus pretends to be wise (2) 12 As for the series Enuma Anu Enlil, which Adapa has composed, 13 I surpass them all in wisdom.” 14 He kept mixing up the rites and confusing the oracles. 15 About the most exalted rituals he just said something arbitrary.378 strophe e5 Nabonidus slanders against the Esagila 16 The outlines ot the Esagila—drawings which Ea-Mummu had made— 17 he looks at the outlines and utters blasphemies. 18 When he saw the crescent the Esagila, he robbed it with his own hands. 19 He assembled the scholars and said to them: strophe e6 Nabonidus tries to prove that the Esagila is a temple of Sin 20 “For whom this house is built? Whose symbol is this? 21 If it belonged to Bel, would it not have been marked with the spade? 22 Therefore Sin himself has marked his temple with the crescent.” 378 We are following Schaudig here, Die Inschriften Nabonids von Babylon und Kyros’ des Großen, 570, n. 929, who proposes to interpret this phrase as iqabbi ma itu (‘he spoke something aribitrary’) instead of as iqabbima itu (‘he ordered the end’), while noting that there are issues with both interpretations.

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strophe e7 High officials agree 23 Zeriya, the shatammu-official, is kneeling for him, 24 Rimut, the zazakku-official379 is standing beside him. 25 They confirm the statement of the king and support his word, 26 they even bare their heads to pronounce under oath: 27 “Had we known before what the king has said!” strophe e8 Nabonidus does not care much about the New Year’s feast (?) 28 In the month Nisannu, on the eleventh day, when Ea [still was present]380 on his seat, [. . .] [. . .] [. . .] Column VI strophe f1 Cyrus moves into Babylon [. . .] 1 [. . .] 2 [ for the inhabitants of ] Babylon he declared peace. 3 [. . .] he kept away from the Ekur. strophe f 2 Cyrus brings an offering in the Esagila 4 [Cows he killed ], he slaughtered sheep. 5 [incense he put on] the censer, the regular offerings for the Lord of Lords he increased. 6 [. . .] for the gods, he prostrated on his face. 7 [The fear of the Lord of Lo]rds was dear to his heart.

379 According to Bauer and Landsberger, this is, respectively, the “Tempelverwalter” and the “Steuerdirektor”. Oppenheim translates it as “secretary” and “bookkeeper”. Both of these were officials that also had cultic functions. 380 Schaudig, Die Inschriften Nabonids von Babylon und Kyros’ des Großen, 571, nr. 930, assumes that the writer must have meant to refer to Marduk when he wrote Ea: dé-a could also be interpreted as dé-a(k), which is shorthand for dé-a-ki-it, ‘the god of the Akitu house’. It would seem logical to see a connection with the Akitu festival here because the date Nisannu 11th is mentioned. Schaudig assumes this strophe criticizes Nabonidus for leaving the New Year’s party even before the final ritual had taken place, during which Marduk returned from the Akitu House to the Esagila.

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strophe f 3 Cyrus rebuilds Babylon’s wall 8 [. . .] his heart was filled. 9 [. . .] the basket, he completed the wall of Babylon. 10 [. . . as] Nebuchadrezzar he did it willingly. 11 [The constructions he re]paired, he built the fortifications on the ImgurEnlil-wall. strophe f4 Cyrus leads the gods back 12 [The gods of Akk]ad, male and female, he returned to their cellas,. 13 [The gods] who had abandoned their [dwellings], he returned to their chapels. 14 [Their heart] he appeased, their mind he put at rest. 15 [. . .] whose power was at a low he brought back to life. strophe f 5 Cyrus destroys the memory of Nabonidus 16 [. . .] their time was set. 17 [. . .]the deeds he effaced. 18 [What Nabo]nidus had constructed in the sanctuaries, 19 [the mentioning] of his [kings]ship he removed from common parlance. strophe f 6 Cyrus destroys Nabonidus’ works 20 His [works] he destroyed as a sigh. 21 [. . .] his design he made undone. 22 [in all the sanct]uaries his name was erased. 23 [whatever he had ] built, he fed to the flames. 24 [whatever he had bui]lt, he let the fire devour it. strophe f 7 Cyrus’ restores order381 25 [. . .] Babylon was his prison. 26 [For those who were in pri]son the imprisonment was lifted. 27 [. . . stro]ng [. . .] surrounded them. 28 [. . .] see him as king.

381 It is difficult to interpret this strophe. Is it about punishment or forced labour for Cyrus’ opponents or is it about the release of prisoners? Based on the parallellism with column I, in which the economy came to a stand-still under Nabonidus’ reign and the population was withering away in the dungeons, I suppose that the opposite is described here. We shall therefore interpret this strophe as ‘restoration of order’: malaise and arbitrariness have ended.

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On the state of the material The text is kept in the British Museum (BM 38299). The edges are damaged. Only about a quarter of the original eight columns have been kept. The writing is clear and correct. This would seem to be an original rather than a copy. The text is from Babylon, probably from the time of Cyrus. Historical background In the cylinder, Nabonidus seems to be mentioned in the last edition by Schaudig in line VI,18. We come across Cyrus’s name twice in line III,10 and in line V,4. It is not difficult to date the events in the text. In column VI, the conquest of Babylon is described by Cyrus, which took place in the year 539 B.C. In column V, New Year’s festivities are mentioned, which are also dated to 539 B.C. Furthermore, (the beginning of ) the construction of the temple Ehulhul in Harran is mentioned, as well as a campaign to Tema. These events are dated to 552 B.C. In column I, events are described that also occurred in the Babylonian Chronicle, and can be dated to the year 554 B.C. on grounds of this text. The text is a retrospective on the entire period of Nabonidus’ reign, 556–539 B.C. Throughout the centuries, King Nabonidus has sparked the imagination of many.382 There are a plentitude of sources about him, including texts from Qumran.383 Herodotus, Xenophon, Josephus and Berossus all wrote about Nabonidus.384 It is also likely that the story about king Nebuchadrezzar in the book Daniel in the Bible is in reality about Nabonidus. There are too many similarities for it to be a coincidence.385

382 See P.A. Beaulieu, “King Nabonidus and the Neo-Babylonian Empire”, in: J. Baines e.a. (ed), Civilizations of the ancient Near East (vol. 2), New York 1995, 969–979, especially 977–978: “Around the fallen monarch there quickly arose an aggregate of legends and historiographic traditions whose study is in some respects as fascinating as that of his reign. The Cyrus Cylinder and the Verse Account, two pieces of propaganda composed under the auspices of Cyrus after his conquest of Babylon, portray Nabonidus as an impious ruler, obsessed with the worship of lunar deities and oppressing his subjects with capricious orders.” 383 The so-called “Prayer of Nabonidus” (4Q242). See F. García Martinez, The Dead Sea Scrolls Translated: The Qumran Texts in English, Leiden 1996, 289. 384 Smith, BHT, 32–36. 385 In the first place, the information in the bible book Daniel is historically incorrect. Nebukadnessar was not the last king of Babylon; Nabonidus was. Moreover, Belsassar (Dan. 5) was Nabonidus’ son. There are more interesting similarities when it comes to the content. Nebukadnessar’s insanity (when he eats grass like a cow in Dan. 4) could be a remniscence of Nabonidus’s insanity in this text. Nebukadnessar’s

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It is not very strange that people were extremely interested in this king: his life story would make for an exciting novel or an excellent movie in the style of The Last Emperor. He was part of three world empires during his life, and saw two of them crumble. An aristocrat in the Neo-Assyrian Empire, he became the last king of the Neo-Babylonion Empire, and according to Beaulieu it is possible that he outlived his conqueror.386 However, the large number of sources that we have at our disposal does not imply that we know much about Nabonidus for sure. Most sources are of a later date than Nabonidus’ defeat and only prove— once again—that people were inspired by this king. Moreover, many of the later stories and legends, such as the biblical book of Daniel, were probably strongly influenced by the Verse Account that we are discussing and the Cyrus Cylinder (see chapter 3.9). Nabonidus himself also left us inscriptions. It will come as no surprise that he sketches a different portrait of himself. Shortly after the Verse Account was found, Genouillac noted: “Une grande question se pose pour l’histoire. Jusqu’ici, Nabonide nous était apparu comme le plus pieux des rois, un monarque bâtisseur de temples, un archéologue en rites anciens. Le voici dénoncé comme un contempleur des dieux nationaux, un impie en un blasphémateur. Que faut-il penser de cette accusation?”387 Cyrus’ propaganda was apparently succesful in giving a determining twist to the image of Nabonidus that remained, even reaching as far as the Bible. Fortunately, Beaulieu undertook a historical research project about all sources by Nabonidus himself in 1985 and wrote his story banishment could be a reference to Nabonidus’s ten-year stay in Tema. It is known about Nabonidus that he appointed Syrian counsellors; and it is said that the story of Daniel and his friends contains an echo of that episode (Dan. 1). Nabonidus is proud of his dreams and of the revelations he receives in them, and it is remarkable that the dream is also a well-known motif in the book Daniel (Dan. 2). According to our Verse Account, Nabonidus makes people kneel in front of blasphemous statue of Sin, while in Dan. 3 Nebukadnessar has a grotesque statue made of himself and makes people kneel in front of it, as if they are kneeling for a god. See, amongs others. P.R. Berger, “Der Kyros-Zylinder mit dem Zusatzfragment BIN II Nr. 32 und die akkadischen Personennamen im Danielbuch”, ZA 64 (1975), 192–234. 386 See P.A. Beaulieu, The Reign of Nabonidus, King of Babylon (556–539 B.C.) (diss.), New Haven 1985, 363. According to Berossus and the Dynastic Prophecy, Cyrus acted “merciful” with his old ally Nabonidus; apparently, he even outlived Cyrus and Cambyses. In this case, he would have reached the age of about 100 years, just like his mother; he would have witnessed the last Neo-Assyrian king Ashur-uballit II, followed by Nabopolassar, Nebukadnessar, Ewil-Merodak, Neriglissar, Labashi-Marduk, who he succeeded himself, and lastly the Persian kings Cyrus and Cambyses. 387 H. de Genouillac, “Nabonide”, RA 22 (1925), 71–83, especially 73.

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based on of this research.388 Although this work does not drown out all debate, we will base ourselves on it for further reference, all the while indicating those points about which no consensus was reached. It will not be essential for our research to dive into the history of Nabonidus very deeply. Nabonidus’ roots probably lie in Harran, the last Assyrian city that fell to the Neo-Babylonian king Nabopolassar. Nabonidus claims to be the child of a prince and of a high priestess of Sin. No proof was found for these claims. It does seem likely, however, that Nabonidus’ mother staid at the court of Nabopolassar and of Nebuchadrezzar afterwards, and was able to make use of her “network” for her son. It is not entirely clear what the role of Nabonidus was at the time of Nebuchadrezzar and Neriglissar. Herodotus speaks about a certain ambassador called Labynetus and continues to call Nabonidus Labynetus, so that it is conceivable that these two are in fact the same person. Nabonidus rises to power after a coup and despite the fact that he is not descendent of Nebuchadrezzar. Somewhere, Nabonidus writes about himself: “I am Nabonidus, the only [s]on, who has nobody. In my mind there was no thought of kingship.” Beaulieu adds to this: “One learns from this short statement that Nabonidus was the only child of his parents, could claim the support of nobody, and did not covet kingship, although he seems to have been a leading figure in the conspiracy which led to the murder of Labashi-Marduk in 556 B.C.”389 Nabonidus is pretending to be a king against his own inclinations, and he may be speaking the truth. Beaulieu put together the following reconstruction: when Labashi-Marduk succeeded his father Neriglissar and it became clear that he was not the right person to fulfil the role of king, Belsassar did the same thing Neriglissar had done a couple of years earlier. Neriglissar had killed Ewil-Merodak, son of Nebuchadrezzar, also advancing incompetence as his reason for doing so, and subsequently rising to power. Either because it is not possible to become king while one’s father is still alive, or because Nabonidus was allowed to act as an unthreatening interim pope, or for whatever other reason, Belsassar appointed his father king, yes indeed, against his own

388

Beaulieu, The Reign of Nabonidus. Beaulieu, The Reign of Nabonidus, 112. This text was included in ANET on pp. 562–563. 389

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inclinations. This could explain why Belsassar, once it turned out that his father had greater ambitions than being an interim pope, sent him to Tema and factually held power in Babylon as a co-regent. For it quickly becomes clear that Nabonidus is principally interested in cultic matters, most especially the reconstruction of the Ehulhul, the Sin temple in Harran. Even his first inscription, unfolds an interesting theological vision, which seems highly relevant to our study of the Old Testament.390 In this vision, it was Sennacherib’s destruction of Babylon that sparked Marduk’s anger. Revenge had to happen, and took place in the form of the downfall of the Neo-Assyrian Empire/, including the Ehulhul in Harran. Nabonidus writes that Nabopolassar reluctantly witnessed the destruction of this temple by the Medes but did not dare go against Marduk’s will. At the time of Nebuchadrezzar and Neriglissar, Marduk returned, however and the centres of the cult were successively renovated. All were renovated, except for the Ehulhul. The reconstruction of this temple was supposed to be the pinnacle of the renovation process. In a dream, Nabonidus sees that it will be his task to restore the Ehulhul. In an inscription of a later date, the so-called “Sippar Cilinder”, he says it as follows: In the beginning of my everlasting reign they (Marduk and Sin) sent me a dream.391 Marduk, the great lord, and Sin, the luminary of heaven and the netherworld stood together. Marduk spoke with me: ‘Nabonidus, king of Babylon, carry bricks on your riding horse, rebuild Ehulhul and cause Sin, the great lord, to establish his residence in its midst.’ Reverently I spoke to the Enlil of the gods, Marduk: ‘That temple which you ordered (me) to build, the Mede surrounds it, and his might is excessive.’ But Marduk spoke with me: ‘The Mede whom you mentioned, he, his country and the kings who march at his side will be no more.’ At the beginning of the third year, they aroused Cyrus, king of Anshan, his second in rank. He scattered the vast Median hordes with his small army. He captured Astyages, king of the Medes, and took him to his country as captive.392

It was probably not possible for Nabonidus to renovate the Ehulhul until the end of his kingship. In the mean time, Nabonidus announced a period of fasting and mourning. This fasting period cannot have

390

Beaulieu, The Reign of Nabonidus, 169–172. See column V, line 11 of the verse account: it seems this refers to a vision Nabonidus had. 392 Translated by P.A. Beaulieu in: COS vol. II, 311. 391

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been very popular in Babylon. The New Year’s festival was also put off until an unknown date.393 We wonder how we should interpret this decision. Smith follows the ‘Verse Account’ and thinks that Nabonidus was hereby designating that his Syrian god stood above the Babylonian pantheon.394 Kuhrt, on the other hand, shows us parallels, from which we can supposedly derive that it was regarded as completely normal that the Akitu festival would be interrupted if a king was on a campaign.395 After all, the king was needed in the festival. Also, it was generally not held against him if a king left on a campaign. Either way, Nabonidus leaves for Tema in his third year, a city in the Arabic desert, and stayed there for ten years. The reason for his stay is subject to much speculation. There may have been economic reasons (it was a junction of several caravan routes); there may have been political and military reasons (establishing a second centre for the empire);396 and it may also have been the case that Belsassar literally and figuratively urged his father to take more distance from the daily goverment of the empire, seeing as that his religious policy met with much resistance. An argument in favour of the military interpretation is that Nabonidus returned to Babylon when the Persians, led by Cyrus, approached. This could mean that he made a mistake in his estimations, expecting danger from the West, not from his former ally Cyrus in the East. An argument that supports the religious interpretation is, among others, that stories of a later date, such as Daniel, also mention insanity and banishment (Dan. 4). Nabonidus returns to Babylon after ten years. It is generally assumed that it had something to do with the increased threat of the Persian army. In this period, Nabonidus starts to collect all statues of gods in 393

See column II, line 10–11 of the verse account. It shows that he was accused of this later, in any case. 394 See Smith, BHT, 36–68, the chapter “Nabonidus’ Religion”. 395 A. Kuhrt, “Nabonidus and the Babylonian priesthood”, in M. Beard and J. North (ed), Pagan Priests, Ithaca 1990, 119–155, especially 140. 396 Landsberger en Bauer, “Zu neuveröffentlichen Geschichtsquellen”, 97: ‘Erweisen wir N. vielleicht zu viel Ehre, wenn wir in ihm einen Reformator des Kultus im angedeuteten Sinne sehen, so erscheint er uns in der politische Durchführung des nationalen Gedankens zielbewußt und großzügig. Er sieht ständig die Bedrohung durch das Siegesvolk der Perser, weiß, daß Babylonien ohne die Ass. Grenzmark trotz aller Befestigungen ungeschützt dem Feinde offen steht, verlegt daher sein Machtszentrum nach dem Westen (Harrān) und versucht wahrscheinlich die Bewohner Arabiens zu dem Zwecke zu einen, um mit diesen kampflustigen Völkern gegen den indogermanische Ansturm ein Gegengewicht zu schaffen, ähnlich wie Šamaš-šum-ukin die Araber zur Brechung der assyrischen Macht aufgeboten hatte.”

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the country, bringing them to Babylon. Beaulieu was even able to trace this operation in rent contracts of boats that were found. Scholars, once again, interpreted this undertaking in various ways. Weinfeld saw a parallel with the cult centralizations carried out by Hezekiah and Josiah.397 He thought that the motivation behind such a centralization of the cult was: binding the provinces to the centre of the country, which was under threat, by appealing to religion and emotions. This reconstruction seems highly unlikely to us and is based on a number of improbable assumptions. Beaulieu shows us in the article he mentions that it was a rather common procedure, which stemmed from the symbolic character of the statue of the god. The statue of the god really represented the god. It was therefore the custom to take the statue of the god away when a victory occurred in order to emphasize the breach between the god and the subjected people and in order to break their morale. It was just as common to bring the statue of the god in safety when a defeat was looming in order to prevent morale from plummeting. Based on the letters and contracts Beaulieu explored, it turns out that sometimes, the population protested when the statue of their god was carried away. Not all ambassadors were as loyal as Rimut was. This is the resistance Cyrus is capitalizing on in the Verse Account; and the resistance Rabshakeh capitalizes on in his speech (Is. 36:7). Such a large operation came with risks. Even if the manoeuvre did not meet with resistance, it would always damage the reputation of the subjected king in case his action led to a defeat. In this case, it had become clear that the gods wanted this defeat and that the king had disregarded their will by dragging their statues around. It would be easy for the conqueror to win over the sympathy of the population, by returning the gods to their own temples. This is precisely what Cyrus did. Cyrus conquers Babylon in the year 539 B.C. The Babylonian Empire definitively disappears from the world theatre. In his own writing, Cyrus makes it look as if it happened without any noteworthy opposition. As if the population of Babylon indeed received him with open arms. We wonder whether this is what really happened.398 All things 397

M. Weinfeld, “Cult centralization in Israel in the light of a Neo-Babylonian analogy”, JNES 23 (1964), 202–212. 398 Kuhrt, “Nabonidus and the Babylonian priesthood”, 133: Kuhrt thinks that a paragraph in Chronicles 7 from Grayson’s ABC was later translated incorrectly by Oppenheim. It did not say that the population of Akkad started a rebellion (against Nabonidus), but it said that Cyrus burnt the population of Akkad (Grayson’s original translation said the same). This indicates that it is historically incorrect to believe Cyrus’

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considered, there are two lines of interpretation against which one can measure the person Nabonidus. The line that follows Cyrus’ interpretation considers Nabonidus to be a religious maniac who accidentally becomes king, alienates himself from the population of Babylon, gets banished to Tema and is finally overpowered, to the great relief of his own population. The other line of interpretation follows Nabonidus’ perspective and considers him a king who wanted to work within the legacy of Nebuchadrezzar, restore temples, protect the empire against invasion; and who was finally stabbed in the back by a more powerful opponent. This did not happen until after he had bravely resisted his opponent during the battle at Opis. The tension between the two visions of Nabonidus, which was first put into expression by Genouillac in 1925, still exists today. Genre The text, generally called ‘Verse Account’ or ‘Persian Verse Account’, actually is a kind of satire. The writer’s intention seems to be to depict Nabonidus as negatively as possible.399 The same thing happened in the Cyrus Cylinder (see chapter 3.9). In fact, the document is a polemic, a piece of political writing that has as its goal to inspire a sense of aversion against the last king of Babylon among the people of Babylon, or to feed an existent aversion.400 Seeing as that Cyrus himself did not speak Babylonian, the text was probably written down by a Babylonian writer or perhaps even by a priest of the Esagila. It remains the question why he wrote it down. Once again, there are two possibilities, depending on the view one has on Nabonidus and on the size and influence of his opposition. In general, it is assumed that the text was written at Cyrus’ instigation, who wanted to enlarge the loyalty of the Babylonian population towards him.401 Van der Spek, however, makes an interesting suggestion. He own words without second-guessing. Also see R.J. van der Spek, “Cyrus de Pers in Assyrisch perspectief; Een vergelijking tussen de Assyrische en Perzische politiek ten opzichte van onderworpen volken”, Tijdschrift voor Geschiedenis 96 (1983), 1–27. 399 Van der Spek, “Cyrus de Pers”, also calls our text a ‘smaadgedicht’, a libel, in note 91. 400 Beaulieu, “An Episode”, 244, calls the verse account: “a piece of propaganda probably composed at the instigation of Cyrus and castigating the religious reforms of the fallen monarch.” 401 Says Kuhrt, “Nabonidus”, 143. Since she tends to follow the image that Nabonidus has of himself, she does not believe that there was any opposition to him worth mentioning. Her conclusion about our verse account: “What I would suggest is that

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draws a parallel to the oracle that apparently predicted that Esarhaddon was to be the king of Assyrian Empire as well as that he would rebuild Babylon. There is another parallel: Isaiah 44:28–45:4, which says that YHWH instructs Cyrus as his anointed one to rebuild the temple of Jerusalem. The internal dynamics of these texts is: by telling the new ruler that the god wanted his power in order to reconstruct a city or a temple, the priests can manipulate the new king to take the direction they want him to take.402 In this case, it is more likely that the text is addressed to the people, or rather: to Cyrus via the people. The fact that the writer regarded the people as his first audience can be told from the fact that he chose poetry.403 Seeing as that the population could not read, the text had to be read out loud. In order to ensure that his story was not just heard, but remembered, the writer chose verse as his medium. The key characteristic of Akkadian poetry is the parallellism: two lines, with the second being a contrast to, an addition to or a continuation of the first. Generally, a line is composed of two parts, constructed in such a way that part one is the opposite of three and two is opposite to four. This scheme is also known from myths and legends. This text

the main point of the text was to provide an explanation of why Nabonidus was defeated by Cyrus. This did not happen because any one of his individual acts was in itself sacrilegious or caused offence to a definable group of Babylonian population such as the priesthood; rather the fact of defeat indicated the support of the Babylonian gods for Cyrus and their condemnation of Nabonidus; they ‘abandoned’ Nabonidus, so that whatever he had done was, by hindsight, doomed.” This vision has not been widely adopted. See for example Machinist and Tadmor, “Heavenly Wisdom”, who conclude that the criticism on Nabonidus cannot have been fictionary because it is too specific. 402 Van der Spek, “Cyrus de Pers”, 18. Many people will recognize the dynamics of this situation: after an appointment, there are always people who try to manipulate the newcomer by telling him or her what they did not like about their predecessor. There are several indications that groups of priests resorted to all kinds of methods to influence the king in this period. See M.A. Powell, “Naram-Sîn, Son of Sargon: Ancient History, Famous Names, and a Famous Babylonian Forgery”, in ZA 81 (1991), 20–30. 403 Schaudig, Die Inschriften Nabonids von Babylon und Kyros’ des Großen, 564, finds that the use of language is closer to the spoken language of those days (called ‘spätbabylonisch’ by him) than to the archaic language of scholars (‘jungbabylonisch’). Nevertheless, he states: “Daß es aber dennoch nicht für das ‘Volk’ sondern als Traktat für die Gelehrten bestimmt war, zeigt sich durch seine strenge Gliederung im Parallelismus membrorum, durch Zitate aus anderen Werke und durch Wortspiele, die die Kenntnis der Schrift und der Literatur voraussetzen.” Also see the next footnote.

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is unique in the sense that it is the only verse account written in this form known to us.404 3.8.2. The level of the event Classification of events In comparison to previous texts, the verse account narrates events of a completely different nature: I,0–15 I,16–35 II,0–15 II,16–27

description of the chaos and injustice in Babylon Nabonidus makes a blasphemous statue Nabonidus builds a temple and neglects other rites Nabonidus hands his official tasks over to his son and conquers Tema II,28–31 Nabonidus builds a palace in Tema II,32–III,6 Nabonidus’ crimes in Tema III,7–III,10 dissatisfaction in Nabonidus’ own army III,11–IV (too fragmentary) V,0–7 Nabonidus claims victories he never made V,8–15 Nabonidus claims supra-human wisdom V,16–27 Nabonidus claims Esagila for Sin V,28–? (too fragmentary) VI,0–3 Cyrus conquers Babylon VI,4–15 Cyrus restores Babylon and the cult VI,16–24 Cyrus destroys the memory of Nabonidus VI,25–28 description of law and order in Babylon At a slightly more abstract level, we can put this into the following scheme: I,0–15 I,16–35 II,0–15 II,16–27 II,28–31 II,32–III,6

population cult cult/construction acts of war construction population

404 Kuhrt, “Nabonidus”, 141, states: “The text is an unusual one in that it is a propaganda text with a definite poetic structure, suggesting possible public recitation.”

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III,7–10 acts of war III,11–IV (too fragmentary) V,0–7 acts of war (claim) V,8–15 cult (claim) V, 16–27 cult VI,0–3 acts of war VI,4–15 cult/construction VI,16–20 cult (made undone) VI,21–24 construction (made undone) VI,25–28 population We can see that there are four themes that are used in three different forms:

theme

form crime Nabonidus

claim Nabonidus

benevolence Cyrus

Population

I,0–15 (Babylon) II,32–III,6 (Tema)

VI,25–28 (Babylon)

Cult

I,16–35 (statue Sin) II,0–15 (New Year) V,8–15 (Esagila)

Construction

II,0–15 (E.hul.hul) II,28–31 (palace)

War

II,16–27 (Tema) V,0–7 (unattained VI,0–3 (peace for III,7–10 (dissatisfaction victories) Babylon) army)

V,8–15 (supra-human wisdom)

VI,4–15 (offerings, statues) VI,16–20 (restoration) VI,4–15 (wall) VI,20–24 (works N.)

Apparently, the writer is interested in four themes: the cult, construction activities, attitude with respect to the population and war activities. Regarding these four themes, he shows that Nabonidus on the one hand commits crimes (cruelties with respect to the population, making blasphemous statues) and on the other hand, he has pretensions that he cannot really fulfil (victories that were not booked, supra-human wisdom he does not really possess). Cyrus shows up as the complete opposite: he creates order and peace for the population, restores the cult and finishes the construction of projects that were completely neglected by Nabonidus.

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Improvement/turn for the worse There is a sharp U-turn in the story when it comes to tension in the story. Initially, the Babylonian fate steeply decreases. It seems there is no end to all the misery under Nabonidus’ reign. The great U-turn happens in column VI, when Cyrus releases Babylon. Cyrus restores everything Nabonidus neglected and his blasphemous deeds and crimes. Actors We have to be careful in our conclusions about this text, because the central columns III and IV are missing. Given the concentric structure of the text, these must have been the central columns of the text in a figurative sense as well. In any case, based on the parts of the text that we possess, we get the impression that there is no destinateur in this story, at least not a divine one. Then again, there is divine indignation and hostility at the time of Nabonidus on the on hand, and a divine satisfaction over Cyrus’ kingship on the other hand, but it seems that the gods do not have influence on the course of events. The person who seems to qualify the best for the position of destinateur is Cyrus, seeing as that he is called “king of the world”. It is also rather difficult to identify a subject seeing as that the main character is an anti-hero. His goal and his motives are hardly mentioned and when they are, they are represented in such a way that the question remains whether he would have recognized himself in the description. The actantial scheme looks rather simple for the reasons mentioned just before.

A heterodox religion, ‘mixing up the rites’

officials Zeriya and Rimut, son, army of Akkad

Nabonidus

tutelary god, population, Cyrus

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Time We hardly find indications of time in the text. In column II,17 we read “at the beginning of the third year” and in V,28 “in the month Nisannu, on the eleventh day”. Based on information outside this text, we can state that this text includes the entire reign of Nabonidus, about seventeen years. Place The places of action are relatively well-known. The first column happens in Babylon. The story moves onwards to Harran. We derive this from the mention of the Ehulhul. Nabonidus then goes to Tema, after II,20. We get the impression that this journey took until III,6, because this verse talks about tired troops and about (one of ) Cyrus’ (officials), we suppose that those parts of the text that were lost narrate Cyrus’ march to Babylon, and—related to this march—Nabonidus’ return. Seeing as that the gods are allowed to return to their temples in column VI, these columns will have probably contained a horrified account of the transportation of these gods to Babylon. From V,1 until the end, the place where all the action takes place is, once again, Babylon. 3.8.3. The level of the story Interventions in the order of time It seems there are no interventions in the order of time: the story is told in a chronological order. Tempo Before looking at the tempo, it is interesting to superpose the chronology of the events on the course of the story.405 556 – + 553 B.C.

period in Babylon, including the New Year’s festival and a number of campaigns + 553 – + 543 B.C. period in Tema + 543 – 539 B.C. return to Babylon, fall of Babylon

405 See Beaulieu, The Reign of Nabonidus, 234. The date of the period in Tema is not entirely certain. We do know that this period took ten years. Some date this to the period between 550–540, but Beaulieu considers the period 553–543 the most likely candidate.

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The narrated events can be dated as follows: Column I: Nabonidus’ unjust deeds are also recorded in the Babylonian chronicle, so that we know that they took place in 554. Column II: Nabonidus marches to Tema in 553. Column III: too fragmentary to date, but we could imagine it is the end of the period in Tema, when Cyrus is marching towards Babylon, because one of Cyrus’ officials is mentioned. For what comes next, we should keep in mind that two complete columns are missing. Column IV is in reality column VI. Column IV: too fragmentary as well. Column V: Nabonidus’ inscription is mentioned here, in which he claims victories that he never booked. Towards the end, the eleventh Nisannu is mentioned, referring to the New Year’s festival, which was always celebrated between 1–10 Nisannu. This must have been the year 539. Column VI: conquest of Babylon in 539. In short: although this thesis remains rather hypothetical, one gets the impression that of the total of eight columns, about six took place in the last couple of years and/or the last year. Column I and II tell us about the first period of Nabonidus’ reign. The entire period in Tema seems to be skipped, safe for the mention of the horrors committed by Nabonidus and the construction of his palace. This is yet another clue that leads us to believe that the perspective of the text is a Babylonian one. Except for four scenes (II,4–11; III,7–8; V,9–13; V,20–27) only the tempo of summary is being used. We have to limit ourselves to counting the legible lines, seeing as that we cannot tell the tempo of a text that was lost. Of the total of about 125 lines that are more or less legible, ‘summary’ is the tempo of 102 lines (82%) and ‘scene’ is the tempo of 23 lines (18%). Distribution of representational time When we count the amount of representational time, we assume that a strophe was devoted to one type of event in its entirety. So we shall count the illegible lines here as well. This gives us the following image: I,0–15 I,16–35 II,0–15

population cult cult/construction

16 20 16

war in a number of extrabiblical texts II,16–27 II,28–31 II,32–III,6 III,7–10 III,11–IV V,0–7 V,8–15 V, 16–27 VI,0–3 VI,4–15 VI,16–20 VI,21–24 VI,25–28

war construction population war (too fragmentary) war cult (claim) cult war cult/construction cult construction population

553

12 4 12 4 8 8 12 4 12 4 5 4

In the two places where it says ‘cult/construction’, we shall count half for the theme ‘cult’ and half for the theme ‘construction’. This gives the sum total of: population: cult: construction: war:

32 56 23 20

lines lines lines lines

Notably, most representational time (and thereby most interest) is devoted to the cult. The population comes second. The two other, typically royal, themes of ‘construction’ and ‘war’ receive the least amount of attention compared to the first two. Focalizations When we look at the focalization in each strophe, we must conclude that the focalizations are mostly external. The internal focalizators are: the population of Babylon, the gods, the population of Tema, the troops, Nabonidus, his officials and Cyrus. This is a remarkably high number of focalizators. In the royal inscriptions, there are generally no more than two or three. Effects of the focalizations The effects of the focalizations may be called highly critical. We can identify a number of clear criteria against which the writer wants to measure Nabonidus: his care for the population, his treatment of cultic

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traditions, his military success and his construction activities. The external focalizator is very explicit in his final judgment of Nabonidus: “True and just judgments were not promulgated by him”, “he scattered”, “he ruined completely”, “unholy things”, “blasphemies”, “what he did not conquer, he wrote” and “he kept mixing up the rites”. These external judgments are confirmed by internal focalizators. Even when Nabonidus himself is speaking, this is not done so that he has a chance to explain his deeds in his own words. The writer resorts to the grotesque in order to make sure that his words can only be explained in one way: “I am wise, learned, I have seen what is hidden, Even if I do not know how to write with the stylus, I have seen the mysteries, Ilteri has made me see a vision, he has shown me everything.” In other words: although I can hardly hold a pen, I still have suprahuman wisdom. It is clear that this internal focalization only serves to show Nabonidus in a critical, almost sarcastic light. The same is true for the other internal focalization, the one by Nabonidus’ two officials, Zeriya and Rimut. Here, the write resorts to the register of irony rather than to the register of the grotesque, when he writes that “they even bare their heads to pronounce under oath: Had we known before what the king has said!” The other internal focalizations are all the more critical with respect to Nabonidus. With the gods, “you do not see happiness any more”, with the population “their countenances were changed”, the population of Tema “wailed”, Nabonidus’ own troops are exhausted and wonder: “When will this end?” In short: literally and figuratively, friend and foe agree on Nabonidus’ incompetence. 3.8.4. The level of the text Repetition of sounds/play with sounds I,3 ināri ina kakki he killed with a weapon I,22

[ša pāna]ma ina māti lā īmuruš manman

no one in the country had seen [before]

II,4

lûbni lûbšimma lûptiq lûšaršidu

I I I I

II,5

bīssu šubāssu libnassu temēnšu

will will will will

build design mould lay

his his his his

house, dwelling, bricks foundation.

war in a number of extrabiblical texts II,10 adi agammaru annāma akaššadu tazzimtu

until I have achieved it and obtained my desire

II,12 ibtani libnassu ibtašim u urtu

He made the bricks he designed the outlines

II,19 ummāne uta ir II,20 ipta ar iptaqidsu

the troops of the countries he ordered under his command he let everything go and entrusted the kingship to him

mātitān ittišu qātāšu šarrūtu

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II,28 āla uštāpi itēpuš [ēkalla] he made the town beautiful, he built a palace (almost a palindrome: āla uštāpi/itēpuš alla) V,4–7 kuraš šar kiššat šali Cyrus, king of the world, who rules . . . šarrāni gimir matāti the kings of all lands išaddadū pull nīršu his yoke— ina naruāšu on his steles išta ar he wrote: before my feet I made him bow ana šēpē’a uktannissu mātātīšu qātā a taktašad my hands conquered his lands bušašu altequ ana his possessions I took to my palace ēkallīa The reversal of reality by Nabonidus is symbolized at the level of sounds. Nabonidus is turning the world upside down. V,7

mātātīšu qātā’a taktašad (almost an onomatopeia)

my hands conquered his lands

V,14

iballal par i idalla têriēti

he kept mixing up the rites, confusing the oracles

V,25

ukannū ušzazzī ipa arū izakkarū

they they they they

V,26

pû šarri amāssu qaqqadsunu māmīt

confirm the king’s statement support his word bare their heads pronounce under oath.

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VI,12–15 uttir, uttir, u ib, ubtalli

VI,17

ipšēti uptassis

he returned, he returned he appeased, he brought to life he effaced his deeds

Conclusion: repetition of sounds and play with sounds, such as alliteration and assonance, form an important stylistic characteristic of this text. We also came across rhyme and internal rhyme. We presume that these figures of speech were supposed help make the text easy to memorize. The two columns that are almost completely undamaged, have such a large number of repetitions of sounds that we can safely assume that there were more repetitions in the damaged columns than can be reconstructed in hindsight. Repetition of words The words that occur frequently in this text are the following: banû bītu epēšu epištu igdamar bušašun ina kakki lā mēsē mātu nabû nakāru patāqu parāsu qātu abātu šarru šarrūtu šubtu u urtu zikru zīmu

to construct house to make deed he destroyed their goods completely with a weapon un-santuary land/country to mention to change to form to cut of hand to grab king kingship residence outline name appearance

I,21; II,4; II,8; II,12; II,17; VI,11 II,4; V,20; V,22 I,20; II,28; II,29; V,20; VI,10 VI,17; VI,20 I,10–11; III,5 I,2; II,25 I,19; II,17 I,22; II,19; II,26; V,5; V,7 I,24; II,7 I,14; I,18; I,31 (D) II,2; II,5 I,4; VI,3 I,27; II,9; II,20; V,7; V,18 I,19; II,9; II,15 (Š); II,21; II,24; V,4; V,5; V,25; V,27 VI,19; VI,28 II,4; II,9; II,27 II,12; V,16; V,17; VI,21 I,24; I,33; II,3; II,7; VI,19 I,14; I,31; II,14

We do not have the impression that the motif words formed the foundation for a clear structure. The words that are frequently repeated only

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show that there is little attention for the theme “war”. We should also be careful to conclude this given the fact that the middle columns are missing. The motif words convey an interest for the cult, more specifically for the strange images and temples that Nabonidus has made (epēšu) or constructed (banû). It is not without reason that the text ends with “effacing the deeds” (epšētu—VI,17) of Nabonidus. In column I, the verb nakāru (to change) is striking. It is repeated thrice, like a chorus. Repetition of themes There are no repetitions of themes in the same way that we found in the other texts. More precisely, there are no turns of phrases that are used on several occasions, as a red thread to the story. By contrast, the beginning and the ending of the text are quite clearly a reflection of each other. This enforces the claire-obscure painting of Cyrus versus Nabonidus. The injustice and chaos that arose during Nabonidus’ reign form a contrast with the justice and peace of Cyrus’ reign. Destruction forms a contrast to construction activities, the gods’ hatred forms a contrast with their satisfaction. The fact that Nabonidus builds the Ehulhul himself is the opposite to the fact that the Esagila was formed by the Ea Mummu, the fact that Adapa does not even know Nabonidus forms a stark contrast to Nabonidus’ claim that he exceeds Adapa in wisdom and it is probably not a coincidence that the abolisment and/or postponement of the Akitu festival corresponds to the fact that Cyrus’ attack seems to have something to do with the date of the Akitu festival.406 Column I 4 parāsu ‘to cut of ’ (sc. the road) 11 igdamar būšašun ‘he finished their possessions (= to ruin) 18 ittekiršu šēdu ‘his tutelary god changed towards him’

Column VI 3 parāsu ‘to cut of ’ (sc. of troops?) 9 dūr uštaklil ‘he finished the wall (= to complete) 14 kabattašunu u ib ‘their (sc. the gods) minds he appeased’

406 This is a very careful formulation. According to Schaudig, Die Inschriften Nabonids von Babylon und Kyros’ des Großen, 23, nr. 102, it appears as if Cyrus entered Babylon at the night before the Akitu feast of Sin, the 16e tašritu. This finding also seems to have an echo in Dan. 5 (the feast of Belsassar). It is therefore all the more regrettable that the lines V,28–31 are missing, because this is where Nisannu 11th, the final part of the Akitu festival of Marduk, is mentioned, just before Cyrus’ attack.

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20 ippuš lā mēsū ‘he did unholy things’ 21 ibtani zaqiqi ‘he built something worthless’

17 epšēti uptassis ‘his deeds he effaced’ 20 ubbat zaqiqi ‘he destroyed as a sigh.’

Column II Column V 2 lā iptiqu Ea Mummu ‘which 16 ša ibšimu Ea Mummu ‘which Ea had not formed Ea Mummu’ Mummu had designed’ 3 ul ide zikiršu ummānu Adapa 12 iškaru . . . ša ik uru Adapa . . . nēmequ ‘the learned Adapa did not ‘the series . . . which Adapa know his name’ composed, I surpass them in wisdom’ 11 ZAG.MUK lušab il ‘I will 28 ina Nisanni XI ‘on Nisannu cause the Akitu festival to 11th’ (= beginning of the cease’ Akitu festival) 12 ibtašim u urtu ‘he designed 16 u urāt É.SAG.ÍL . . . ša ibšimu the outlines’ Ea Mummu ‘the outlines of the Esagila—drawings which Ea-Mummu had made’ Intertextuality Beaulieu mentions “archaization” as one of the characteristics of the Neo-Babylonian culture.407 It was a popular custom to look back at the glorious past of kings such as Sargon I, Nebuchadrezzar I or Ashurbanipal. Concerning the reconstruction of the temple, it was hardly unusual that archeological research was done on beforehand to locate the exact position of the foundation. It was done based on the supposition that the gods had determined a very specific place for their temple. Whenever an ancient text was found containing clues, everyone was

407 Beaulieu, “King Nabonidus and the Neo-Babylonian Empire”, 970: “Two leading characteristics of Neo-Babylonian culture are an intense concern for the past and a stubborn attachment to the Akkadian language and the cuneiform writing system despite the increasing aramaicization of the country. The concern for the past seems to have been a phenomenon of the age, for it is observed in contemporaneous Egypt, in Judah, and in the works of early Greek historians of a slightly later age. In Babylonia, it was exhibited in various ways: emulation of old literary models; revival of ancient rituals and of obscure, long-forgotten deities; and use of archaizing script, even occasional fabrication of an artificial Sumerian for royal inscriptions.”

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very impressed. Powell showed that people did not shrink back from making an ancient text, as some sort of pia fraus.408 It appears logical that forms of intertextuality exist in this culture. And so we do find intertextuality in the Verse Account, at two levels. In the first place within the story, as narrative element, whenever Nabonidus tries to appeal to ancient texts himself. Furthermore at the level of the text, when the writer shows that Nabonidus is wrong about something. In other words, it seems the writers wanted to ridicule the way in which Nabonidus recurs to the past. This confirms what we saw above, which is that the text on the one hand shows that Nabonidus makes all kinds of claims and on the other hand that these claims have no foundation. This was especially obvious in column V. The following is told in this column. 8 9 10 11 12 13

He stood in the assembly and to praise him[self ]: “I am wise, learned, I have seen what is [hidden] Even if I do not know how to write with the stylus, I have seen [the mysteries] Ilteri has made me see a vision, he has shown me everything. As for the series Enuma Anu Enlil, which Adapa has composed, I surpass them all in wisdom.”

Machinist and Tadmor demonstrated that sarcasm is dripping of these lines. In a very ingenious way, these lines convey the message: Nabonidus is trying but he does not have a clue. He is guilty of some sort of folk etymology and thereby creates the impression that his wisdom is greater than Adapa’s wisdom, the first of the apkallu’s, the pre-historic great sages.409 It is true that Nabonidus regularly mentions dreams in his own inscriptions. Here, it is sarcastically implied that Nabonidus

408 Powell, “Naram-Sîn, Son of Sargon”. We do not have to argue that these texts and and events shine an interesting light on the discovery of the law book during the renovation of the temple in Jerusalem, recorded in 2 Kgs 22. If the book found is indeed the book of Deuteronomy, this is also about “the place that YHWH your God will choose as a dwelling for his name” (Deut. 12:11) 409 Machinist and Tadmor, “Heavenly Wisdom”, 149, quote a letter to Ashurbanipal with a similar claim: “The king, the lord of kings, is the offspring of a sage and Adapa. You surpassed the wisdom of Apsu and of the whole tradition of learning.” They noted that this phrase potential polemically touches upon a Neo-Assyrian topos. Also see B. Pongratz-Leisten, Herrschaftswissen in Mesopotamien, which is devoted to the complete set of knowledge, skills and self confidence that the Mesopotamic kings tried to possess, and excude.

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describes himself as illiterate (“I do not know how to write with the stylus”), who nevertheless surpasses ancient texts such as the Enuma Anu Enlil in wisdom. The play with words is the following: the sign u4 that is used can mean “enuma”, but it can also mean “crescent” in combination with the word uskāru. And “crescent of Anum” was an epithet of Sin. U4.sakar can moreover also be interpreted as is.karu, which means “literary series”. It is true, however, that Nabonidus never portrays himself as illiterate in his inscriptions. To the contrary, he was probably a scholar. It becomes clear, however, in an inscription that the above part seems to refer to the claims to be the only one capable of giving the correct interpretation. It says: “[. . .] the tablets of series (iskaru) ‘Enuma Anu Enlil’. The writers brought the basket with tablets from Babylon to look at them, but they were not read out loud. Nobody understood them before (= Nabonidus) had told them.”410 So Nabonidus is ridiculed in an intertextual way in the verse account and portrayed as someone who thinks he understands old texts, but in the meantime is obsessed with his god to such an extent that he even pronounces the phrase “Enuma Anu” as “crescent of Anu”. A second example of intertextuality was identified by Beaulieu. According to Beaulieu, the writer must have envisioned the “Sippar Cylinder”. “The main argument for assuming this is that the expression šalulti šatti ina kašādi is not found in any other known Assyrian or Babylonian text but in the Verse Account and inscription 15,411 in the first case in connection with Nabonidus’ departure for Teima, in the other with the beginning of Cyrus’ revolt against Astyages. Taking this as a starting point, one may suggest that the use of šalulti šatti ina kašādi was meant as a sarcasm directed against Nabonidus’ own account of the rebuilding of the Ehulhul in inscription 15. As stated before, this inscription does not really state that the Ehulhul was rebuilt in the first years of the reign, and yet one feels that it aims at creating the impression that it was the case.”412 Beaulieu’s argument is as follows: the (Neo-Assyrian!) literary convention required the most important

410 Machinist and Tadmor, “Heavenly Wisdom”, 149. The verbs idû ‘to know’ and qabû ‘to speak’ in this inscription are the exact same words that are used in column V, line 27. 411 In Beaulieu’s dissertation, inscription 15 refers to the Sippar Cylinder. 412 Beaulieu, The Reign of Nabonidus, 324.

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deeds of the king to take place at the beginning of his reign. In the “Sippar Cilinder”, Nabonidus says that he had his dream about the Ehulhul ina rēš šarrūtīya (“in the beginning of my kingship”, in other words in the first year) and also that Cyrus marched against him at the beginning of the third year (šalulti šatti ina kašādi). He proceeds to talk about the reconstruction of the Ehulhul, suggesting that he built this temple in his third year. This is untrue, seeing as that he only finished the temple by the end of his kingship. Apparently, he wanted to cover this fact up. The writer of the Verse Account once again presents this false claim with a great deal of sarcasm. He explicitly has Nabonidus say that he should rebuild the temple in his third year, all the while adding that he will postpone the Akitu festival till after the temple has been finished. Seeing as that it is already clear that this festival had been postponed till the end of his kingship, Nabonidus is contradicting himself. Once again, a form of intertextuality is used in order to test Nabonidus’ false claims in a sarcastic manner. We find yet another form of intertextuality in colum V,18–22. It is told how Nabonidus tries to prove that the Esagila, which was the number one temple of Marduk, who was the number one god of Babylon, actually belongs to Sin. The half moon on top of the temple is used as ultimate proof. We can find out that it is true that Nabonidus thought that the Esagila was in reality a temple of Sin in an inscription from Ur.413 In this inscription, Nabonidus tells Sin in a prayer: “O Sin, my lord ‘gods’, king of the gods of heaven and the netherworld, ‘gods’ of the gods, who dwells in the great heavens, when you joyfully enter that temple, may good recommendations for Esagil, Ezida, Egisnugal, the temples of your great godhead, be set on your lips”. The next example was once again discovered by Beaulieu. He points out that the number of Nabonidus’ titles continues to grow in his last inscription, meaning the Sippar Cylinder. Babylonian kings generally had less imperialistic ambitions than the Assyrian ones. They generally regarded themselves as no more than “king of Babylon”, even if the Babylonian empire at times included very extensive grounds. Assyrian kings, by contrast, liked to call themselves “king of the world” and “king of the four quarters”. It is striking that Nabonidus begins to use Assyrian

413

COS vol. II, 313–314, especially 314.

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titles towards the end of his reign: šarru rabû, šarru dannu, šar kiššati, šar kibrāt erbetti. Beaulieu supposes that this happens based on Ashurbanipal’s inscription, which was dug up during the reconstruction of Ehulhul: “The adoption of the Assyrian titulary and the anāku RN formula was presumably influenced by the discovery of the building inscriptions of Ashurbanipal in Harran during the excavations of the Ehulhul [. . .] It also proves that, in the last years of his reign, he still claimed the Assyrian heritage, which had been a consistent policy of his since his accession.”414 Again, we see double intertextuality: Nabonidus refers back to Ashurbanipal and the writer of the Verse Account refers back to this choice of words by Nabonidus. In line V, 2 and 3, it says that Nabonidus took possession of “The praise of the Lord of Lords” and claimed victory over the areas “he did not conquer”. One line down, Cyrus is explicitly called šar kiššat by the writer. The writer is supposedly referring to Nabonidus’ use of old titles. According to Beaulieu, this is a form of sarcasm, seeing as that there is something painful about the fact that Nabonidus only starts to use this title by the end of his kingship, once everyone know that Babylon should at the least regard Egypt and Persia as equals, and is even loosing to Persia. In summary, we can state that the writer of the verse account consciously referred back to acts and writing by Nabonidus. We agree with Machinist and Tadmor, who say that since the number of accusations made to Nabonidus is large and the accusations are very specific, it is inconceivable that this was purely a verdict written at a later date, as suggested by Kuhrt.415 A certain group of individuals existed in Babylon—we are not sure how large it was—that understood little of Nabonidus’ West Semitic religion and his Neo-Assyrian way of ruling his court, a group that regarded his military and religious claims as clownish against the background of a collapsing empire. Furthermore, it seems there are references to important epics and myths such as the Atrahasis Epos and the Enūma Elish. This may not be as strange as it seems, if we suppose that the text stems from the circles 414

Beaulieu, The Reign of Nabonidus, 336. Machinist and Tadmor, “Heavenly Wisdom”, 150: “The force and subtlety of the argument here suggest a real-life tension between the Verse Account author and his group, and Nabonidus and his circle. The extent of the tension becomes clearer when we recall that this argument constitutes just one of a variety of links between the Verse Account and texts from Nabonidus which bear on the king’s military and especially religious activities, and his claims to wisdom.” 415

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of the Marduk priests. What is more logical than to describe the anger over the neglect of the Esagila by referring to epics that express the great importance of this sanctuary? A reference to the Atrahasis epos was already noted by Landsberger and Bauer:416 Verse account I,13–14 [. . .] ri-šu bu-di-šu-nu is-si-qa [. . .] zi-mu-šu-nu it-tak-ru [. . .] their [broad ] shoulders became narrow [. . .] their outward appearance changed

Atrahasis II,iv,17 en II,iv,12417 ra-ap-šu-tum bu-da-ši-na [is-si-qa] i-na bu-bu-tim zi-mu-ši-na [it-ta-ak-ru] their broad shoulders became narrow because of famine their outward appearance changed

Unfortunately, this column of the epos was rather damaged. It is the part in which the gods try to reduce the number of people by means of a number of different plagues. In the plague discussed here, the level of the ground water (mi-lu ‘flood’) apparently fell so that the earth had become dry and scorched and did not bear fruit. Either way, the message of this intertextual reference seems to be that Nabonidus is portrayed as a plague to his people. Whenever Atrahasis is instructed by Enki not to fear the gods in the Atrahasis Epos in this phase (e ta-apl[a- a] e-li-ku-un, ‘do not respect your gods’ II,ii,9 for example), but instead to praise the god who is responsible for this disaster, Nabonidus reacts by displaying a lack of respect, departing from this instruction by honouring Sin instead of the correct god (Marduk). There also seem to be connections to the Enūma Elish. This is—again— not very strange. The plot of Enūma Elish is largely the same as the plot in the Verse Account. There is a threat (Tiamat, respectively Nabonidus); it seems there is nobody who can change this injustice until the hero of the story (Marduk, respectively Cyrus) beats the villain to everyone’s great satisfaction. The establishing and/or restoring of the rites is the

416 Bauer and Landsberger, “Zu neuveröffentichte Geschichtsquellen”, 89, note 7. I owe professor Veenhof for pointing this footnote out to me, which I had previously overlooked. 417 W.G. Lambert and A.R. Millard, Atra- asīs: The Babylonian Story of the Flood, Oxford 1969, 79.

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ending of the story. The Enūma Elish ends with the construction of the Esagila, while Nabonidus blasphemically claims the Esagila for Sin in het Verse Account. The close connection between Marduk and Cyrus and the lack of observing the Akitu festival by Nabonidus are two more signals that connect the Enūma Elish and the Verse Account. Also note that Marduk beats Tamat with storms, among others, in the Enūma Elish (IV,45–47): ša-ru lem-nu. The za-qi-qu (I,21 and VI,20) could be an allusion to this: the breeze of wind that Nabonidus causes is as slight as Marduk’s storm is strong. There seems to be another allusion in the way in which the moon (Nanna) gets its position in the Enūma Elish. The crown (agu V,14) is mentioned, which shines every month, while the crown (agu I,25) that Nabonidus gives to Sin (which he also calls Nanna in I,24) is a crown that reflects Sin in a dark condition. Other words of which it is striking that they appear in both texts are: u urtu, bašamu, ki u + atmanu. Verse account II,12 ib-ta-šim u- ur-tu he designed the outline

Enūma Elish I,61 ib-šim-ma u -rat he designed the outline

II,6

a-na é.kur eš tam-ši-lu siIV,44 mat lu-me-šil I want to make a replica, which is comparable to E.kur in dignity.

eš-gal-la tam-ši-la-šu u-ki-in E-šar-ra he erected the great sanctuary, a replica of the Esharra

V,14

i-bal-lal par- i i-dal-la te-re-e-ti he mixed up the rites, he confused the oracles

123 gim-ri te-ri-ti-ia šu-u lit-tab-bal he will execute all my oracles

VII,

VI,14 [lib-ba-šu-un up]-taš-ši VI,112 mu- ib lib-bi dA-nun-na-ki ka-bat-ta-šu-nu u - ib mu-šap-[si . . .] 15 [. . .t]a-bi-ik-ti ub-tal-li-i 131 u-bal-li- u ilāni mituti [Their heart] he appeased, who had brightened he brightenend their Anunnaki’s, heart, brought disposition calmth [. . .]whose power was at a low, brought back to life. who had brought the dead gods to life

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In short: Nabonidus becomes a second Tiamat because of this reference, who plunges his land into chaos and threatens to destroy what was created before. Cyrus is comparable to (a viceroy of ) Marduk, the one who restores order and brings joy back. Metaphors Remarkably, there are very little metaphors in this text, while metaphors occur frequently in the royal inscriptions that we analyzed. This is yet another clue that this is not a text that has its Sitz in der Literatur at the court. There is one metaphor, but this metaphor is so archaic that we wonder whether the audience would have experienced it as a metaphor at that time. It is the expression “his yoke the kings of all lands pull” in V,5. Another metaphor—this one is less clear—is “his [works] he destroyed as a sigh”418 (VI,20). In the above analysis, we mentioned the idea that this line may be linked to line I,20: “he built air”. If it is true, this is a case of irony: Nabonidus’ air castles can be broken down easily by Cyrus. Structure The text, of which we already saw that it was probably written in order to be recited or sung, has a very clear strophic structure, in line with this goal. Bauer and Landsberger were the first to make a classification, which was taken up by Oppenheim in ANET. Schaudig refined and adapted this classification. We followed this version. We get the impression that this text had a chiastic structure. This statement necessarily has to remain rather hypothetical because of the absence of the middle columns. The statement seems logical to us since we can see that chiasmas occur at all levels (within sentences,419 within strophes)420 and because the first columns of the text reflect the last sentences in terms of the content.

418 The meaning of this word zaqiqu is comparable to the Hebrew word ‫‘ הבל‬vanity, sigh’ in e.g. Eccl. 419 For example. II,11; II,13; II,28; V,10–11; V,20; VI,4. 420 For example strophe e2—see above under repetition of sounds.

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A a1 lawlessness B a2 economic malaise a3 destruction of capital a4 withering of the population C

a5 loss of the support of the gods D a6 Nabonidus makes a statue of the god a7 description of the statue (1) a8 description of the statue (2) b1 Nabonidus’ heresy b2 Nabonidus’ plan to build the Ehulhul b3 Nabonidus neglects other gods and rites b4 Nabonidus builds his temple E b5 Nabonidus transfers his official tasks to his son b6 Nabonidus makes a journey F b7 Nabonidus’ crimes in Tema b8 Nabonidus builds a palace in Tema G b9 repression of the population c1 other crimes c2 unrest in the army

(break) G’ e1 Nabonidus’ deceptive propaganda (1) e2 Nabonidus’ deceptive propaganda (2) F’ e3 Nabonidus pretends to be wise (1) e4 Nabonidus pretends to be wise (2) e5 Nabonidus slanders against the Esagila e6 Nabonidus tries to prove that the Esagila is a temple of Sin e7 high officials agree e8 Nabonidus does not care much about the New Year’s Festival (?) E’ f1 Cyrus conquers Babylon

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D’ f 2 Cyrus offers in the Esagila f 3 Cyrus reconstructs Babylon’s wall C’ f4 Cyrus brings the gods back B’ f 5 Cyrus destroys the memory of Nabonidus f 6 Cyrus destroys the works of Nabonidus A’

f 7 Cyrus’ restores order 3.8.5. De theology/ideology of the text

Focalization of the king Two kings have a role in this story. We notice that the narrator never refers to Nabonidus with the title ‘king’ (šarru). Nabonidus is only appointed this royal dignity from the mouth of the two officials, who are portrayed as meek followers (V,25 and V,27). The narrator uses all his narrating tricks to show Nabonidus from an unfavourable perspective. Both internal focalizators and the population (who are no longer singing and whose faces change, I,7 and I,14) the gods (who are not happy either and turn away from him I,16–19), and the narrator himself, with his explicit normative judgments (unholy, blasphemy, injustice) are giving us variations of the same theme. The focalization of the other king, Cyrus, is the opposite. As soon as his name is mentioned, he is called šar kiššat (‘king of the world’), “his yoke the kings of all lands pull”. His deeds are the exact opposite of Nabonidus’s deeds. He declares peace to the inhabitants of Babylon, he respects religious sentiments by not bringing his minister into the Ekur, he even actively participates in the cult by butchering sheep, returning the gods to their original chapels, he executes the construction plans of popular king Nebuchadrezzar instead of focussing on all kinds of strange statues and temples. The internal focalizators confirm this: the god’s faces are happy again and the population is revived. Recalling that an Ancient Near Eastern king traditionally had two tasks, i.e. ‘building’ and ‘fighting’, it is striking that both Nabonidus and Cyrus discharge themselves of this task. It is, however, true that Nabonidus builds blasphemous statues and temples, while Cyrus restores temples and walls. The writer also wants to make clear that Nabonidus,

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when he goes out to fight, is guilty of war crimes (killing women and children), while Cyrus is received as a liberator. It is as if the writer is letting us know: it does not matter whether a king builds and fights, but how he does it. Valuation of the war The unique aspect of this text is that war seems to be viewed from the perspective of the population. We found that the theme ‘population’ received more attention than the theme ‘war’.421 One could almost call the theology some sort of ‘liberation theology’. A battle can be a liberation battle, for example when Cyrus conquers Babylon in VI,2. Note that hardly any acts of war take place. This may be historically correct, because we know from other sources that Babylon was taken with hardly any resistance. But the contrast with the conquest of Tema in column II,23vv is too large, as it involves an elaborate description of the slaughtering of the king and the inhabitants of Tema by Nabonidus. In column III,3–4, it is even mentioned explicitly that defenceless women and children were killed. Put differently, it seems as if the writers think that war is a disaster for the population in principle, but it can also serve a just cause, such as making a tyrant disappear. Even then, it is very important to the writers, apparently, that the king who liberates them from the tyrant does so with as little use of violence against the civilian population as possible. Effect of the valuation of the war on the valuation of the king The effect of the negative valuation of the war on the valuation of the king is that the controversy surrounding Nabonidus becomes even more obvious. Nabonidus throws himself into a pointless and excessively cruel war far away from his capital Babylon, while he is neglecting his capital Babylon at the same time. He builds a palace for himself in Tema, but he does not finish building the wall that Nebuchadrezzar started. This almost seems to be an unintended lucky development for the city, because it means that Cyrus can conquer Babylon with great ease. In the mean time, Nabonidus has all kinds of victories engraved in his memorial stone, which he did not gain in reality (V,2–7).

421 This fact is more proof for the option that this text really came forth from the Babylonian priesthood, and was not ordered by Cyrus. See chapter 3.8.1 above on this genre.

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It is therefore striking that the theme of ‘war’ does not have the function of glorifying the king. The hero of the story is the king who means well for the gods and the population, and uses the least amount of violence possible. Focalization of the gods The gods do not appear as actors in the story. Perhaps we should not expect them to in a text which describes a part of history that must have been recent at the time it was written. The reaction of the god is mentioned in a couple of places: in I,18–19, a tutelary deity changes his attitude with respect to Nabonidus, while in VI,14 the mood of the gods changes for the better. The story is not a ‘myth’, however, in the sense that it is a story about the gods. It is a verse account, which debates Nabonidus’ heterodoxy. The writer apparently assumes that the audience knows about about the orthodox vision that he is sharing with them. Based on this point of view, Nabonidus’ acts must have spoken for themselves. According to the writer. making a statue of Sin that no one had ever seen before, and which probably depicted the Moon god in its darkened situation, is an act that is sure to be condemned by the audience. The same is true for building a replica of the temple Ekur, neglecting to carry out the Akitu festival, claiming to possess wisdom that supercedes the wisdom of Ea-Mummu and Adapa, suggesting that Ilteri had a direct revelation which made knowledge of the cult redundant, assigning the Marduk temple Esagila to Sin—according the the writer it is absolutely clear that these types of behaviour are unheard of and inappropriate. The author’s strategy is to make some sort of a convent with his readers against Nabonidus: ‘we cannot approve of this!’ Relationship between divine and human activity Seeing as that there are no divine actions in the story, it is not possible to answer the question how divine and human activity relate to each other. One could suppose that there is a scheme of guilt-and-punishment hidden in this text, but this is not made explicit anywhere in the text. Theology/ideology of the text It seems as if the text is supposed to offer an explanation as to why Babylon has to be conquered by Cyrus. There are similarities between this text and the texts of the Old Testament that reflect on the conquest of Jerusalem. The perspective is a priestly perspective: the cult and the correct execution of the cult is considered more important than

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political independence. We can no longer reconstruct to which extent this was also the case before the fall of Babylon (as was also the case with the prophets of Israel) and to which extent this ideology was truly supported by the Babylonian priests and the population. But the fact that this text takes this perspective in the first place, combined with the plentiful indications of tension at the court of Nabonidus, show that the legends surrounding Nabonidus and the traditional image of him were not based on mere fiction. 3.9. The Cyrus cylinder 3.9.1. Introduction to the Cyrus Cylinder Translation Text edition and translation: – P.R. Berger, “Der Kyros-Zylinder met dem Zusatzfragment BIN II Nr. 32 und die akkadischen Personennamen im Danielbuch”, ZA 64 (1975), 192–234 – H. Schaudig, Die Inschriften Nabonids von Babylon und Kyros’ des Großen, samt den in ihrem Umfeld entstandenen Tendenzschriften: Textausgabe und Grammatik (AOAT bd. 256), Münster 2001, 565–578 Translation: – A.L. Oppenheim in ANET, 315–316 – R. Borger in TUAT I, 407–410 (1) [ When . . .] (2) [. . . of the four quar]ters (3) [. . .] A worthless person was installed to exercise lordship over his country. (4) [. . .] he imposed upon them.422 (5) An imitation of the Esagila he ma[de, and . . .] . . . for Ur and the rest of the cultic centers,

422 Oppenheim, ANET, guesses that what it says here is: “[the correct images of the gods he removed from their thrones, imi]tations he ordered to place upon them.” Berger, “Der Kyros-Zylinder”, 205, thinks that line 4 is about the taxes that Nabonidus charged the population of Tema, while line 5 is about the replica of the Esagila in Harran. Schaudig thinks that ši is discernible before l, which would make Berger’s guess [mandattu bu] -li impossible.

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(6) a ritual which was impropriate to them,423 an [unholy] di[splay offering without] fear he daily recited. Hatefully, (7) he put an end to the regular offerings and he in[terfered in the rites . . .] [Mischief he] made in the cultic centers. The fear of Marduk, the king of the gods, he banished out of his heart. (8) he continually did evil against his city Daily, [. . .] he imposed a yoke upon his [peop]le unrelentingly, ruining them all. (9) Upon hearing their cries, the lord of the gods became furiously angry and [. . .] their region, the gods who lived among them left their cellas. (10) To his anger he had brought them to Babylon. Marduk, the ex[alted, the lord of the gods], turned towards all the habitations that were abandoned, (11) and all the people of Sumer and Akkad, who had become corpses. He changed his mind and had mercy upon them. He inspected and looked through all the lands in their entirety and (12) he searched for a righteous king, his heartfelt desire. He took Cyrus, king of Anshan, by the hand, declared him and called him to be king of the world. (13) He made the land of Gutium and all the Umman-manda bow in submission at his feet. The black-headed people, whom he had made him to conquer, (14) he shepherded with truth and justice. Marduk, the great lord, guardian of his people, looked with gladness upon his good deeds and honest heart. (15) He ordered him to go to his city Babylon. He let him take the road to Babylon and like a companion and a friend, he went at his side.

423 Berger, “Der Kyros-Zylinder”, 206, thinks that this may have referred to the appointment of the daughter of Nabonidus as priestess of Sin.

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(16) His vast army, whose number, like water of the river, cannot be known, marched at his side fully armed. (17) Without fighting or battle he made him enter his city Babylon; he saved Babylon from hardship. He delivered Nabonidus, the king who did not fear him, into his hands. (18) All the people of Babylon, all the land of Sumer and Akkad, princes and governors, bowed to him and kissed his feet. They rejoiced at his kingship and their faces shone. (19) As lord by whose aid the dead were revived and who had redeemed all from hardship and difficulty, they kept blessing him with gladness and praised his name. (20) I, Cyrus, king of the world, great king, mighty king, king of Babylon, king of Sumer and Akkad, king of the four quarters, (21) the son of Cambyses, great king, king of Anshan, grandson of Cyrus, great king, king of Anshan, descendant of Teispes, great king, king of Anshan, (22) eternal seed of kingship, whose rule Bel and Nabu love, whose kingship they desire for their hearts’ pleasure. When I entered Babylon in a peaceful manner, (23) I took up the seat of my government in the royal palace amidst rejoicing and happiness. Marduk, the great lord, established as his fate for me a magnanimous heart of one who loves Babylon, and I daily sought to fear him. (24) My vast army marched into Babylon in peace; I did not permit anyone to frighten the entire land of Sumer and Akkad. (25) I sought the peace of the city of Babylon and all its cultic centers. As for the citizens of Babylon, [. . . upon wh]om he imposed a yoke which was not the gods’ wish and not befitting them,

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(26) I relieved their wariness and freed them from their service. Marduk, the great lord, rejoiced over [my good] deeds. (27) Upon me, Cyrus, the king who fears him, and upon Cambyses, the son who is [my] offspring, [and up]on all my troops, (28) he bestowed gracious blessings, and in peace, before him, we mov[ed] around in friendship. [By his] exalted [word], all the kings who sit upon thrones (29) throughout the whole world, from the Upper Sea to the Lower Sea, who live in the dis[tricts far-off ], the kings of the West, who dwell in tents, all of them, (30) brought their heavy tribute before me and in Babylon they kissed my feet. From [Babylon] to Ashur and Susa, (31) Agade, Eshnunna, Zamban, Me-Turnu, Der, as far as the region of Gutium, the cultic [centers on the other] side of the Tigris, whose sanctuaries had been abandoned for a long time, (32) I returned the gods, who had dwelled there, to their places and I let them dwell in eternal abodes. I gathered all their inhabitants and returned to them their dwellings. (33) At the command of Marduk, the great lord, I resettled in peace (34) in their cella’s, in pleasing abodes, the gods of Sumer and Akkad, whom Nabonidus, to the anger of the lord of the gods, had brought into Babylon. May all the gods whom I settled in their cultic centers ask daily (35) of Bel and Nebu that my days be long and may they intercede for my welfare. May they say to Marduk, my lord: As for Cyrus, the king who fears you, and Cambyses, his son [. . .] (36) [. . .] The people of Babylon blessed my kingship, and I settled all the lands in peaceful abodes. (37) [. . . a goo]se, two ducks, and ten turtledoves above the former offerings of geese, ducks, and turtledoves. (38) [. . .] I provided daily.

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[. . .] Dur-Imgur-Enlil, the great wall of Babylon, its de[ fen]ce,424 I sought to strengthen (39) [. . .] The quay wall of brick on the bank of the moat, which a former king had bu[ilt, but had not com]pleted its construction (40) [. . . who had not surrounded the city] on the outside, which no former king had made, (who) his troops and a levy [of his land had led] in[to] Babylon. (41) [. . . with bitumen] and bricks, I built anew [and completed th]eir [ job]. (42) [. . .] with a bronze overlay, thresholds and door-sockets [. . .] (43) [. . .] An inscription with the name of Ashurbanipal, a king who had preceded me, [I s]aw [in its midst]. (44) [. . .] [. . .] (45) [. . .] [. . . for eter]nity. On the state of the material The text is written on a clay cylinder of about 30 centimetres in length and 10 centimetres in height. It was found in Babylon. The cylinder, which is in relatively good state, is kept in the British Museum (BM 90920). The text is fairly complete, especially since Berger discovered in 1975 that a fragment of a text kept in New Haven (BIN II, nr. 32) was the missing last part of the cylinder. The ending is still rather fragmentary and the opening lines are missing but that is the only damage to the cylinder.425 A picture of the cylinder is printed in A. Kuhrt, The Ancient Near East: c. 3000–330 B.C., Londen/New York, 1995, 603. Historical background It can be said of Cyrus (559–530 B.C.), as it could of Nabonidus, that he was a ruler who sparked people’s imagination. He managed to make Persia into a world empire between 558 and 539 B.C. Starting from a rebellion against the Medes under Astyages, he managed

424 Schaudig interprets this as [ma-aS-S]ar-ta-šu, ‘his guard’. Berger saw it as ši?-pir?-šu, ‘his structure’. 425 Berger, “Der Kyros-Zylinder”.

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to extend his empire to include Anatolia in the West and India in the East. The conquest of Babylon, in a certain sense, was the crown to his life’s work. As we saw in paragraph 3.8, the histories of Nabonidus and Cyrus are always painted in claire-obscure. Writers began using this technique during Cyrus’ time, and this piece of propaganda certainly achieved its goal. If modern historiography decides to adjust the image of Nabonidus, however, the image of Cyrus should logically be nuanced as well. A number of authors pleaded for such a revision: Kuhrt,426 Van der Spek427 and Veenhof.428 These writers think that our image of Cyrus is one-sided, because of the historical coincidence that we found two witnesses who have a rather positive judgment of Cyrus: the Judean exiles and the priests of Marduk. Many references are made to Cyrus’ religious tolerance, his friendly stance with respect to the population of Babylon and the large degree of autonomy that he allowed the subjected peoples. Van der Spek, however, believes that these policies did not make Cyrus unique. He thinks there has been a large amount of continuity in the way the oriental empires were ruled.429 The inhabitants of Babylon and the Judean exiles undoubtedly profited of Cyrus’ religious policy, but he was nevertheless acting according to an ancient tradition, and he moreover did not have the same policies in each area. Veenhof also does not believe that we have to do with something specific for the Acheamenids, but rather with a pragmatic policy to avoid unnecessary conflicts.430 Van der Spek shows that the Assyrian kings also had a policy of religious tolerance and made statues of the gods return to their temples when they thought this was necessary. There are no indications that Assyria forced Ashur’s cult on the subjected peoples, as was assumed before. Concerning his attitude with respect to Babylon, Cyrus did not act any differently than other victors. Within Mesopotamia, Babylon was always treated with great égards by the Assyrians. The city was generally

426 A. Kuhrt, “The Cyrus Cylinder and Achaemenid imperial policy”, JSOT 25 (1983), 83–97. And also: The Ancient Near East, 602–603. 427 Van der Spek, “Cyrus de Pers”. 428 Veenhof, Geschichte, 288–291. 429 Van der Spek, “Cyrus de Pers”, 2. 430 Veenhof, Geschichte, 290.

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granted tax dispensation as well as other privileges. If a king, such as Sennacherib, departed from this policy, he was kept accountable for it, and it was something that he could be reproached for. In other words, the only thing that is exceptional about this text is that Cyrus follows this ancient Mesopotamian tradition as a Persian king. Cyrus’ imperialist politics was no different from that of the NeoAssyrian kings. Imperialism was generally of an economic nature at this time: as long as taxes were handed over and vassal kings did not have a foreign policy of their own, the vassal countries were allowed a certain degree of autonomy. The image that emerged of the NeoAssyrian kings being very aggressive is, once again, mostly Sennacherib’s fault, as his policies strayed both from the policies of his father Sargon and of his son Esarhaddon. In addition, deportations and destruction by Cyrus have also been reported. Van der Spek therefore concludes that policies with respect to the subjected peoples in the Ancient Near East were always a mixture of “stick and carrot”, the stick being the dominant instrument with the one ruler and the carrot with the other. Either way, Cyrus’ propaganda— machine was apparently very effective, given the fact that it is still capable of influencing the historiography after 2500 years, says Van der Spek.431 Genre Berger described the genres of the Neo-Babylonisan inscriptions.432 He shows us that many of the Neo-Babylonian royal inscriptions could be divided into three parts: the first part narrates the divine vocation, the second part the pious reaction of the king (construction of the temple, conquest of land) and the third part begins by telling us the real occasion of the inscription (for example the construction of an object). The inscriptions frequently end with a prayer containing a wish, or 431 A remarkable example of this influence is the article by I. Quiles, “La philosophie sous-jacente au message de Cyrus” in Acta Iranica I, Leiden 1974, 19–23. At the time of the grand celebration of “2500 years of Iranian civilization”, this writer praises Cyrus as the illustrious predecessor of the Pahlevi’s during a grand feast by the Sjah in Teheran. On p. 19, he calls the Cyrus Cylinder “une véritable déclaration des droits de l’homme faite il y a 2500 ans. Le message a confirmé le jugement des historiens, comme Hérodote, sur la magnanimité de Cyrus, et celui des philosophes, comme Platon, qui fait explicitement remarquer que Cyrus ‘concéda les droits des hommes libres à tous.’ ” 432 P.R. Berger, Die neubabylonischen Königsinschriften: Königsinschriften des ausgehenden babylonischen Reiches (626–539) (AOAT 4/1), Neukirchen-Vluyn 1973.

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with the repeated intention to pray. Content-wise, the inscriptions are about the personal well-being of the king or the security of the position of the king within the dynasty. We find these three parts in the Cyrus Cylinder. On the other hand, the texts almost always start by mentioning the protocol (anāku ‘I’ + title), which is not the case here. We only find the protocol in the second part, from l. 20 onwards. Harmatta did research on this phenomenon.433 He arrives at the conclusion that the cylinder must refer back to examples from the time of the Neo-Assyrian king Ashurbanipal. This conclusion is very remarkable, given the fact that his publication roughly coincided with Berger’s article, in which the latter made independently the connection to the fragment from New Haven, which even featured Ashurbanipal’s name.434 Harmatta starts by noting that the cylinder contains two parts. The first part, l. 1–19, narrates the conquest of Babylon from the perspective of Marduk. The second part follows, firstly introducing the royal protocol of Cyrus, after which Cyrus narrates the events once more from his own perspective. Incidentally, the two parties completely agree with each other, even word-for-word in some places. These similar words show that the work is one entity, not the result of two independent rounds of editing (for example by the clerical and the bureaucrat circles). The polemic character of the text likens it to the Verse Account (see 3.8): Nabonidus’ predecessor is dismissed as ma û (worthless). This fact gives away the Sitz in der Literatur: the text probably originates from the circles of the priests of Marduk. In short, the Cyrus Cylinder does not contain one original word of the great Cyrus himself.435 We also find texts with this structure in Persian literature of a later date, but these latter texts were modelled after the Cyrus Cylinder. For this reason, Harmatta does not search within the Persian literature in order to find the origin of this genre, but within the Babylonian literature. The striking thing, however, is that we cannot find a parallel among the Neo-Babylonian royal inscriptions. These texts almost all begin with the royal protocol. Exceptions to this rule stem from Nabonidus’ time, who was the last king, and from Nabopolassar’s time, who was the first king of the Neo-Babylonian Empire. There is 433 J. Harmatta, “Les modèles littéraires de l’édit babylonien de Cyrus”, Acta Iranica I, Leiden 1974, 29–44. 434 Berger, “Der Kyros-Zylinder”. 435 Berger, “Der Kyros-Zylinder”, 216–217.

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an inscription by Nabopolassar, related to the reconstruction of the Etemenanki, which begins with a dedication formula and a song of praise of Marduk. Seeing as that Nabopolassar stands at the beginning of the Neo-Babylonian Empire, Harmatta concludes that the roots of this genre go even further back and that this genre won over other genres in the Neo-Babylonian period. Indeed: before this period, he finds this literary form with Ashurbanipal. The question remains why Cyrus restores this ancient literary form, which has not been used for some time. The key to answering this question can be found in the titles that are used. For Cyrus uses titles that are not known in the Persian Empire, but which can be found in Ashurbanipal’s inscriptions: great king (šarru rabû), powerful king (šarru dannu), king of the entire world (šar kiššati), and king of the four quarters (šar kibrati irbitti). Ashurbanipal rightfully used these titles, seeing as that there was no equal to Assyria’s power at that time. The NeoBabylonian power, on the other hand, had never been so great. The powerful Median and Egyptian Empires were always by its side. The use of these titles could have been taken as an insult. In other words, the Neo-Babylonian kings had a reason to drop Ashurbanipal’s genre. Only once, does a Neo-Babylonian king use the genre: Nabonidus! Once Cyrus has conquered the Median Empire, Nabonidus takes advantage of the confusion to take Harran and considers himself šarru rabû alongside (he thinks) an internally divided Persian-Median Empire. It can hardly be surprising that Cyrus, when he ends this dream, uses the same titles, also going back upon Ashurbanipal. This information begs the question: why did the priests of Marduk associate Cyrus with Ashurbanipal? It probably happened because Ashurbanipal was the king who returned the statue of Marduk to Babylon at the beginning of his reign. Ashurbanipal moreover took care of the cult, financially and otherwise. In an inscription, Ashurbanipal writes: “ina palê-e-a bēlu rabû dmarduk ina ri-ša-a-ti ana bābili ki i-ru-um-ma ina e-sagila ša da-ra-a-ti šu-bat-su ir-me sat-tuk-ki e-sagila u ilāni meš babili ki u-ki-in”: “During my reign, the great lord Marduk went to Babylon, while the people cheered, and he moved into the Esagila as his residence for ever. I determined the offering for the Esagila and the gods of Babylon.” These inscriptions undoubtedly could be found in the temple or in the archives of the clergy of Marduk.436

436 Or on a construction inscription at the wall of Imgur-Enlil. Since Berger’s join, it is generally assumed that the cylinder may have been a construction inscription for

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Therefore, the priests of Marduk regarded Cyrus as an Ashurbanipal redivivus: a foreign king who conquered Babylon in order to do the city good. This remains a remarkable fact, seeing as that Ashurbanipal was later defeated by the Neo-Babylonian king Nabopolassar. Harmatta thinks that Ashurbanipal continued to be some sort of hero to the Babylonians. Probably, it was quickly discovered that a mistake had been in judgment after Nabopolassar’s victory over Ashurbanipal. It was felt by the Babylonians that the Medes had not been used against the Assyrians, but that the Medes had used them. The balance of power had been lost and the Neo-Babylonian Empire could only continue to exist because of the benevolence of the Medes. We suppose that in Babylonia a form of nostalgia for the days of the great Assyrian Empire developed, which was in hindsight presented as an Assyrian-Babylonian empire by the personal union. This nostalgia was further fostered by the large amount of criticism developed by the Neo-Babylonians on their own kings such as Nabonidus, and it did not take much to idealize the legendary Ashurbanipal. With respect to the genre of this text and it’s meaning, Kuhrt also concludes: A fact that should be especially noted is that Ashurbanipal is called ‘a king who preceded me’ and it is fair to assume that the concluding line of the Cyrus Cylinder referred to the replacing of Ashurbanipal’s text where it had been found and the placing of Cyrus’ inscription next to it. This actually provides a clue to the ultimate purpose of the Cyrus Cylinder: it was composed to commemorate his restoration of Babylon like that of his predecessor Ashurbanipal, recount his accession and pious acts and demonstrate to subsequent generations his legitimacy as ruler of Babylon. The main elements used to demonstrate all these facets are the facts that (a) Cyrus was chosen by Babylon’s god, (b) that he carried out all the cultically correct activities of a Babylonian ruler, and (c) that he was part of a long tradition of rulers of Babylonia including such kings as Ashurbanipal of Assyria.437

this wall. See l. 38 for the mention of this wall and l. 43 for the mention of Ashurbanipal. It is also mentioned that Cyrus renovated the Imgur-Enlil wall in the Verse Account, l. VI, 11. 437 Kuhrt, “The Cyrus Cylinder”, 88–89.

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Classification of events If we compare this text to our other texts, it is remarkable that although partially, the same types of events are narrated, new types of events events are also told. exposition phase occasion: Nabonidus’ reign a. (illegible) b. creating the equal of the Esagila c. instating a wrong cult d. abolishing regular offering e. destroying respect for Marduk f. laying a heavy yoke on the inhabitants of Babylon

l. l. l. l. l. l. l.

1?–8 4 5 6 7 7 8

complication phase intervention by the god a. Marduk gets angry with Nabonidus b. Marduk takes pity with the people c. Marduk searches and finds a just king

l. l. l. l.

9–14 9–10 11 12–14

climax Cyrus conquers Babylon a. Marduk orders Cyrus to take Babylon b. Cyrus takes Babylon without opposition

l. 15–17 l. 15 l. 16–17

dénouement and sanction phase Babylon’s inhabitants rejoice

l. 18–19

self-presentation Cyrus introduces himself

l. 20–22a

climax Cyrus peacefully takes Babylon

l. 22b–25a

denouement and sanction phase Cyrus restores all of Nabonidus’ crimes a. Cyrus grants Babylon exemption of taxes again b. Marduk rejoices about Cyrus

l. 25b–34a l. 25b–26a l. 26b–28a

war in a number of extrabiblical texts c. kings pay their taxes to Cyrus d. Cyrus restores the cults

l. 28b–30a l. 30b–34a

ending prayer for Cyrus and Cambyses

l. 34b–36a

construction inscription

l. 38–45

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What is striking is the large amount of space reserved for the cult. This is what conveys the priestly interest to us. While in royal inscriptions, such as Sennacherib’s annals or Zakkur’s inscription, the casus belli is a case of insubordinance or a deed of aggression against the king, here it is Nabonidus’ cultic and tax measures that instigate war. What is furthermore striking is that the complication in this story consists of Marduk’s inner struggle. On the one hand, he is angry with Nabonidus, but on the other hand he pities the people of “Sumer and Akkad”. The solution to this dilemma is searching a just king who can do justice to both the god ánd the population. We do not find back such scenes as “negotiation”, “council”, “prophetic appearance”, and “decision by the king”. On the other hand, we find “mustering” and “(preventing) battle”. Instead of a second prophetic appearance, we find the joy of the people and the gods in the sanction phase. Improvement/turn for the worse The events entail a turn for the better on all accounts; the text does not stop mentioning this. “amidst rejoicing and happiness” (see lines 14, 18, 23 and 26). The cult is restored, the duties are made lighter, and all of this happens by means of a “velvet revolution” (“without fighting or battle” l. 17). A king could not do any better than this. The anger of the gods changes into joy, reverence for Marduk is restored, the offerings that were abolished are reinstated, those that were dead become alive, peoples and gods are returned to their places of residence. Actors It is striking in this text that Marduk takes up both the position of subject and of destinateur. One could say that Marduk is actually the subject in the first part, in which he actively sets out to find a just king who can save Babylon. Regarding the second part, one could defend the position that Cyrus is the subject and Marduk the destinateur. In the

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first part, Cyrus is chosen by Marduk because he is just. In the second part, Cyrus moreover honors Marduk for giving him “a magnanimous heart of one who loves Babylon”. The writer elegantly symbolizes this in a play with words with the words lib-bi ri-it-pa-šu (big heart, l. 23) and um-ma-ni-ia rap-ša-a-tim (big army, l. 24). Cyrus is a great man, not only with a great army but with a great heart—this much may be clear.

Marduk

saving Babylon out of oppression by Nabonidus

gods and people

Cyrus, big army/big heart, complaint by the people

Marduk

Nabonidus

Time There is not one indication of time in the text! This should perhaps not be expected in a construction inscription. The entire text reminds us of the inscription of Kilamuwa (see 3.2), in which we also did not find any indications of time, about which we also concluded that it was a construction inscription, and which also began by informing us what the predecessors had done wrong or right. Place The story begins in Babylon. After that, Marduk sets out to look for a rightful king he finally finds in Anshan (l. 11). He orders this king to go to Babylon (l. 15). In l. 18, all people from Sumer and Akkad come to Babylon. We see the same movement in the first person narrative: Cyrus marches towards Babylon (l. 22–24). In this part, all the cult places are also visited (l. 25). 3.9.3. The level of the story Interventions in the order of time The lack of indications of time makes it difficult to judge whether there are interventions in the order of events in the context of the text. Nevertheless, we can safely assume that the writer made quite some interventions in the chronology of events, based on information from

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outside the text. As an example, Nabonidus’ government (l. 2–8) was not, in reality, preceded by Cyrus’ subjection of the country of Gutium and the Ummanmanda (Medes). At the time of Cyrus’ rebellion against the Medes in 558 B.C., Nabonidus is yet to rise to power. We see the same thing happening in l. 9vv. In this part, it is told that Nabonidus made the gods leave their temples; upon which the gods became angry; while Marduk finally went searching for a new king. In chapter 3.8, however, we saw that Nabonidus probably only had the statues transported to Babylon when Cyrus was already approaching. We can see that the chronological order, including the relation between cause and consequence, is manipulated for an ideological purpose.438 Historically speaking, the order is as follows: 1. Cyrus conquers the empire of the Medes (Gutium en Ummanmanda) in 558 B.C. 2. Nabonidus rises to power (556 B.C.), 3. Cyrus attacks Nabonidus (540/539 B.C.), 4. Nabonidus transports the statues of the gods to Babylon (539 B.C.), 5. Marduk’s priests are angry about this and welcome Cyrus as victor (539 B.C.). But in the story, it is suggested that the order of time is: 2. Nabonidus rises to power, 4. Nabonidus transports the statues of the gods to Babylon, 5. Marduk gets angry, 1. Cyrus conquers the empire of the Medes, 3. Cyrus attacks Nabonidus. A remarkable intervention in the order of time is the repetition of what was told in l. 9–19 in the first person in l. 20–34. Tempo Regarding the tempo, the text is a mono-culture. We only came across the tempo “summary”. Strictly speaking, the prayer in 35b–36a is not a narrative element and could be described as “slow-down”. Distribution of representational time The distribution of representational time once again demonstrates the extent to which the writers were interested in the cult. Additionally, more than in any other text, the perspective of the people is represented in the text. This shows from the great deal of attention paid to the tax

438 On the matter of this type of inscriptions, Berger also notes that one cannot assume their historicity without reservations: enumerations are not always in a chronological order: tropes are sometimes prescribed so strictly that they preclude accuracy and the aim of the text (i.e. propaganda) stands in the way of historicity. See: Berger, Die Neubabylonischen Königsinschriften, 99vv.

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pressure, as wel as from the fact that it is stated with joy that the war took place “without fighting or battle”. cult taxes intervention by god divine command battle happiness * population * Marduk construction activities self presentation prayer illegible or hard to classify

7 lines 4 lines 6 lines 1 line 6 lines 4 lines 2 lines 2 lines 8 lines 1,5 lines 2 lines 5,5 lines

Focalizations We only find a small number of focalizators in this text. It is striking that there are direct focalizations by Marduk (he is angry, he rejoices). In the biblical war stories, YHWH is seldom a direct focalizator. We hear his opinion indirectly out of the mouth of people, such as prophets. Furthermore, compared to the biblical stories, we can note that the opponents do not have the floor at all. Apparently, it is not important why Nabonidus did what he did. This makes the characters much more one-dimensional. The distribution of focalizations is also remarkable. In l. 1–8 the external focalizator is the only one. From l. 9–19 he represents the perspective of Marduk as an internal focalizator. From l. 20 onwards, the first person narrative, Cyrus is the sole internal focalizator, except for line 23 and 36 where Cyrus tells about the feelings of the population and line 26, where he himself introduces Marduk as internal focalizator. Effects of focalizations One can say without reservation that the focalizations have a legitimizing effect. Marduk is openly “angry” with Nabonidus, “has mercy” with the population, and “rejoices” about Cyrus on multiple occasions. There are also so many similarities between Cyrus’ story (l. 20–43) and Marduk’s vision according to the external focalizator (l. 9–19) that it should be clear that Cyrus (who is depicted as “Mardukfearing” on

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more than one occasion) enjoys full support by Marduk. While in the biblical stories, we frequently see the external focalizators adopting the prophet’s vision, here he adopts the vision of king Cyrus. Here, like in the Verse Account, the exciting question remains who exploited whom? Did Cyrus use the priests of Marduk to legitimize his power or did the priests flatter Cyrus in this manner so that he would take measures that were advantageous to them? 3.9.4. The level of the text In his study of the Neo-Babylonian royal inscriptions, Berger makes a number of observations with respect to the literary characteristics of these texts.439 We recognize these observations to a large extent in the cylinder. He begins by ascertaining that the number of literary devices is not very large. Adjectives are often singulary. An extension is frequently adverbial (for example with rabiš ‘large’ or mādiš ‘many’). Comparisons are rare. The figura etymologica also does not occur a lot according to him, although we find this style figure in our text. According to Berger, the ensemble of these findings creates the impression of sobriety: “bleierne Stereotypie, ermüdende Wiederholungen; so der Eindruck für den modernen Leser.”440 A principle that can certainly be identified as a literary procedure is the principle of consistently organizing the epitheta so that they range from short to long. Repetitions, even enumerations, are not shunned, (eššiš epuš . . . eššiš epuš—I made again . . . I made again). We even come across almost identical images (rējû . . . rējû muštāl—shepherd . . . wise shepherd). Certain topoi are repeated, such as “which no former king had made”. Parallellism, climax and chiasm occur sporadically. Variation in synonyms, on the other hand, is used more often (“word” . . . “order”). There is little use of the method of direct speech, when it is used it is for example in a prayer or a dialogue. Repetitions of sounds/play with sounds To our way of hearing, a plentitude of sh-, a- and u- sounds is characteristic of Akkadian. It is impossible to enumerate all of these sounds, 439 440

Berger, Die Neubabylonischen Königsinschriften, 88 vv. Berger, Die Neubabylonischen Königsinschriften, 88.

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all the more so because one wonders whether such an enumeration would yield any new insights as to the meaning of the text. Given the rather elevated use of language, as visible in the many repetitions of words for instance, it seems likely that the writers used sound: when synonyms exist, it appears that there is a preference for alliteration and assonance. We find potential repetitions of sound in: l. 8: ina abšāni lā tapšu tim u alliq kullatsin (“with a yoke unrelentingly he ruined them all”). One can discern something sighing in the a-, uand i- (and -)sounds, especially if emphasis were to lie on the second syllable with each of the last three words. In l. 27, the sound -ia (“my”) is emphasized rather strongly: ana iâti Kuraš šarru pali šu u Kambuzia māri it libbia u ana nap ar ummānia (“upon me, Cyrus, the king who fears him, and upon Cambyses, the son who is my offspring, and upon all my troops”). In l. 35, in which Cyrus wishes all good things for himself, his contentment seems to resound in the plentiful use of m-sounds: ūmišam ma ar d Bēli u dNabû ša arāku ūmīja litamu littazkaru amāta dunqia (“May they ask daily of Bel and Nebu that my days be long and may they intercede for my welfare.”) This line almost is humming. Repetitions of words The writer seems to have a predeliction for an elevated use of language, as can be told from the abundance of adverbs and adjectives: Marduk does not get angry, but “furiously angry”, the people of Babylon does not only bless Cyrus, but blesses him in a good manner, Cyrus is not just a king, but a “great, mighty king”. We also see this elevated use of language in the use of parallelisms—at times in standard word combinations such as “truth and justice”—and repetitions of sounds seem to play a large role in this. Synonymes and standard combinations l.13, 17/18: šēpu . . . qātu f feet . . . hands l.14 kīttu u mīšaru truth and justice l.15 ibru u tappû friend and companion l.17 qablû u tā āzu fighting and battle l.19 pušqu u ūdu hardship and difficulty

war in a number of extrabiblical texts l.23 l.29

ul u ù rīštu ištu tâmtim elītim adi tâmtim šaplītim

Motif words libbu

heart/centre

wašābu + šubtu mā āzu palā u epēšu + epištu še û šulmu qablu qātu šēpu adû + adîš agāgu + uggatu

to live place of residence cult place to respect/honor to do/to make deed to seek/to keep peace battle hand feet to rejoice with joy to be angry anger

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rejoicing and happiness from the Upper sea to the Lower sea

9x (9, 12, 14, 22, 23, 25, 27, 32, 34) 7x (9, 28, 29, 29, 32, 34, 36) 6x (10, 23, 31, 32, 34, 36) 6x (5, 7, 9, 25, 31, 34) 6x (6, 7, 17, 23, 27, 35) 5x (5, 8, 39, 40, 41) 2x (14, 26) 5x (12, 14, 23, 25, 28) 5x (22, 24, 25, 28, 33) 2x (10, 17) 4x (8, 12, 13, 17) 3x (13, 18, 30) 2x (18, 26) 1x (14) 1x (9) 2x (10, 23)

Although libbu is used both in the sense of “heart” (a king after his heart, Bel and Nabu’s heart’s desire) and in the sense “centre” (of a city), it is still an important motif word. Cyrus as a king is close to Bel and Nabu’s heart. This is because he fears ( palā u) Marduk. This reverence of Marduk is visible in his act of returning all strange gods to their places of residence (wašābu), as he makes return “their people” and the cult places (mā āzu). He is also a notorious rubble clearer in his “works” (epēšu). Apparently, he has a friendly disposition with respect to his subjects, seeing as that he “is shepherding them”—a characteristic that he shares with Marduk (še’û). Because of all of this he can take Babylon without a battle (qablu), in complete peace (šulmu). Marduk gives everything into his hands (qātu) and lays everything under his feet (šēpu). In doing so, his initial anger (uggatu) is exchanged for joy ( adû). Repetition of themes The themes we encounter are entangled closely with the motif words. We can identify the following central themes:

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fear of Marduk (see above under palā u) Marduk’s anger (see above agāgu and uggatu) Marduk gives an enemy into the hands of (17) the gods have a permanent (“eternal” l. 32) residence which cannot be foresaken.

Intertextuality According to Harmatta, there was intertextuality in Ashurbanipal’s texts.441 He thinks that he found intertextuality in three places. Two references relate to the joy with which Cyrus is welcomed in Babylon, respectively to the word mā āzu “cult place”, of which both Cyrus and Ashurbanipal claim to take special care. These two examples of intertextuality are not very convincing, however, seeing as that these are clichés that are also used constantly by the Babylonian kings in the period between Cyrus and Ashurbanipal.442 The other intertextual reference is remarkable, on the other hand: the use of titles. Cyrus uses Neo-Assyrian titles that the Neo-Babylonian kings did not use: Ashurbanipal: a-na-ku I.daššur-bān-apli šarru rabû šarru dannu šar kiššati šar kuraššur šar kibrat irbitti.443 I am Ashurbanipal, the great king, the mighty king, king of the world, the king of Ashur, the king of the four quarters. Cyrus (l. 20): a-na-ku Iku-ra-aš šar kiš-šat šarru rabû šarru dan-nu šar Bābilim šar māt Šu-me-ri ù Ak-ka-di šar kib-ra-a-ti er-bé-et-tim. I am Cyrus, king of the world, the great king, the mighty king, the king of Babylon, the king of Sumer and Akkad, the king of the four quarters.

441

Harmatta, “Les modèles littéraires de l’édit babylonien de Cyrus”. We come across the combination i-na ul- i-im u ri-si-a-tim, “amidst rejoicing and happiness” with Nabopolassar, for instance. See S. Langdon, Die neubabylonischen Königsinschriften (VAB 4), Leipzig 1912, nr. 1, column III, l. 20–21. We repeatedly come across the turn of phrase from the dedication inscription of Ashurbanipal to Marduk, a-na ud-du-uš ma- a-zi za-na-an eš-ri-[e-ti] d[marduk ú-ma-’i-ra-ni-ma], “Marduk ordered me to reconstruct the cult places and improve the sanctuaries” with Nabopolassar and Nebuchadrezzar. See Langdon, Die neubabylonischen Königsinschriften, Nabopolassar nr. 2, column I, l. 6–7; Nebuchadrezzar nr. 1, column I, l. 13; nr. 3, column I, l. 7–8. 443 Harmatta, “Les modèles littéraires de l’édit babylonien de Cyrus”, 37. 442

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In the introduction, we already commemorated the fact that according to Harmatta, the writer of the cylinder wants to depict Cyrus as the new Ashurbanipal: a foreign king, who rightfully carries the old titles of the Akkadian kings, because he gave the Esagila and other cult places their original status back. The similarity between both kings was intensified because both were received in Babylon with cheering. We can also find references to the Enūma Elish in the cylinder: Cylinder l. 6 pa-ra-a la si-ma-a-ti-šu-nu an inappropriate cult

Enūma Elish IV,82 ana la si-ma-ti-šu taškunīš pa-ra-a e-nu-ti you appointed him in the highest position, which is inappropiate for him

l. 17 āl-šu Babiliki i- i-ir i-na šap-ša-qi he saved Babylon from hardship

VI,126 ilāni abe-šu i- i-ru ina šapša-qi the gods of his father he saved from hardship444

l. 18 i -du-u a-na šarru-ti-šu im-mi-ru pa-nu-uš-šu-un They rejoiced at his kingship and their faces shone

IV,133

l. 19 be-lu ša i-na tu-kul-ti-ša u-bal-li- u mi-tu-ta-an the lord, by whose aid the dead were revived

VI,155 be-lum ša ina šip-ti-šu ellitim u-bal-li- u ilāni mituti the lord who with his holy spell revives the dead gods

l. 23 lib-bi ri-it-pa-šu [. . .] iš-ku-na-an-ni-ma a magnanimous heart he established for me

VI,138 ra-pa-aš lib-ba-šu

i-mu-ru-ma ab-bu-šu i -duu i-ri-šu his fathers saw it, rejoiced and cheered

his heart is magnanimous

444 Schaudig, Die Inschriften Nabonids von Babylon und Kyros’ des Großen, 555, note 906, talks about this references.

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This intertextuality suggests the same connotation as it does in the Verse Account: Cyrus is tightly connected to Marduk: both of them are characters who save from hardship, both revive deads to life, and both are greeted with joy. Nabonidus, by contrast, is associated with something ‘inappropriate’ (l. 6 and 25) twice, which is also said of Kingu in the Enūma Elish. Surprisingly, the theme of the god Marduk, who gets angry with one king and goes in search of another, is also found in two other interesting texts, dated to the end of the eighth century. We are talking about the cylinder of Merodach-Baladan II and the annals of Sargon II.445 At the time of Sargon’s rise to the throne of Assyria in 722/1 B.C., Merodach-Baladan grabs his chance to escape Sargon’s yoke. In a cylinder, he describes how Marduk chose him to expel the evil Subartean (= Assyrian=Sargon).446 This cylinder was introduced in the temple of Eanna in Uruk. It was found in Nimrud, however, because Sargon breaks the rebellion of Merodach-Baladan after twelve years, apparently taking the inscription with him as a trophy. This is not all. According to Tadmor, it seems that in his own annals, he paraphrases the inscription of his enemy by stating that Marduk (!) could no longer bear the evil deeds of the Chaldean (Merodach-Baladan) and instructed him to conquer Babylon for this reason.447 We cannot tell to which extent these texts were the example after which the Cyrus Cylinder was modelled. By contrast, it is striking on the one hand that Sargon apparently did not regard his ‘borrowing’ from the cylinder of Merodach-Baladan as very literal—he is paraphrasing—and on the other hand, that this theme is always found in the circles of the priests of Marduk. Intertextual comparison Cyrus Cylinder

Merodach-Baladan Cylinder

Sargon’s annals

3 ma- u-u iš-šak-na a-na e-nu-tu ma-ti-šu 8 le-mu-ut-ti ali-šu

9 nakru lemnu Subaru ina mat Akkadi ep-pu-uš be-lu-tu

12 šanāti ki-i la lib-bi ilāni Babilu ki, āl dEnlil ilāni i-bel

445 See H. Tadmor, “Propaganda, Literature, Historiography: Cracking the Code of the Assyrian Royal Inscriptions”, in: Parpola and Whiting (eds.), Assyria 1995, 325–337, i.h.b. 333–334. 446 C.J. Gadd, “Inscribed Barrel Cylinder of Marduk-apla-iddina II”, Iraq 15 (1953), 123–132. 447 A. Fuchs, Die Inschriften Sargons II. aus Khorsabad, Göttingen, 1994, 135–137.

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Table (cont.) Cyrus Cylinder

Merodach-Baladan Cylinder

Sargon’s annals d

i-te-ne-ep-pu-uš

Marduk bēlu rabu ep-šet Kal-di lem-ne-ti ša i-zer-ru i- ul-ma

lu

a worthless person was installed to exert lordship over his country. he continually Akkad. did evil against his city

the evil enemy, the Assyrian, exerted lordship over the country

12 years, he ruled, against the intention of the gods, Babylon, the city of the lord of the gods. Marduk, the great lord, saw the evil deeds of the Chaldean, whom he hated

11 dMarduk ir-ta-ši ta-a-a-ra 12 iš-te-’e-e-ma ma-al-ki i-ša-ri it-ta-ma-a qa-tu-uš-šu Ku-ra-aš šar uruAn-ša-an it-ta-bi ni-bi-it-su a-na ma-li-ku-ti kul-la-ta nap- ar iz-zak-ra šum-šu

11 dMarduk ir-šu-u sa-li-ma 12 ip-pa-lis-ma Mardukapla-iddinna šar Babili ki rubu pa-li -šu 14 i-na re-’u-ut matŠu-merim u Akkadimki šum-šu ki-niš it-ta-bi

i-na nap- ar ma-li-ki ki-niš ut-ta-an-ni-ma

Marduk had mercy upon them, he searched for a righteous king. He took Cyrus, king of Anshan, by the hand, declared him and called him to be king of the world

Marduk found satisfaction. He saw MerodachBaladan, king of Babylon, a noble fearing him. He called him veritably as shepherd over Sumer and Akkad.

. . . and he decided to take from him the royal scepter and the throne. Me, Sargon, the humble king, he chose veritably out of all the princes.

e- e-er giš a i u giškussi šarru-ti-šu iš-ša-kin šaptu-šu ia-a-ti Šarru-ukin šarru ša -tu

16 um-ma-nišu rap-ša-a-ti 17 ummani rapša-tim kakki-šu-nu a-an-du-ma Subarti ki im- a -ma i-ša-ad-ddi- a i-da-a-šu u-šab-ber kak-ki-šu-un His vast army, marched at his side, fully armed.

The vast army of Subartu he defeated and he destroyed their arms.

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Table (cont.) Cyrus Cylinder

Merodach-Baladan Cylinder

Sargon’s annals

23 u-mi-šam a-še- a-a pa-la-a -šu

12 rubu pa-li -šu

and I daily sough to fear him.

a noble, fearing him.

25 kul-lat ma- a-zi-šu i-na ša-lim-ti aš-te-’e-e

21 a-na ud-du-uš ma- a-zi u-zu-un-šu ib-ši-ma

for all its cultic centers I sought the peace.

he planned to renew all the cultic centers.

30 bi-lat-su-nu ka-bi-it-ti u-bi-lu-nim-ma qe-er-ba šu.an.naki

34 bilat-su-nu kabit-ta liš-du-du a-na ki-rib šu.an.naki

their heavy tribute they brought into Babylon.

their heavy tribute they may drag into Babylon.

39 ša šarru ma -ri i-pu-šu-ma la u-šak-li-lu ši-pi-ir-šu 40 ša šarru ma-a -ra la i-pušu

3 ša Šul-gi šarru ma -ri u-še-pi-šu-ma il-li-ku la-ba-riš 7 man-ma ša šarrani meš a-lik ma -ri la ib-bal-ki-it e-piš šip-ri-šu

which a former king had built, but had not completed its construction. which no former king had built.

wich Shulgi, a former king had built, had become old. No one of the former kings had begun to build his construction.

43 šu-mu ša lan.šar-duibila šarru a-lik ma -ri-ia ša qer-ba-šu ap-pa-al-sa

37 mu-sar-e šarri a-lik ma -ri-ia e-piš biti šu-a-ti a-mur-ma

An inscription with the name of Ashurbanipal, a king who had preceded me, I saw in its midst.

An inscription of a king who preceded me, who built this house, I saw.

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Then there may be some intertextuality with the Codex Hammurabi. This codex, which had been taken as spoil to Susa, where it has been found, originally was displayed in the Esagila. In this codex we read about the Babylonian ideal of kingship. Intertextual comparison Codex Hammurabi Column I (Prologue) 28–31 a-am-mu-ra-pi ru-ba-am na-a -dam pa-li-i i-li

32–34 mi-ša-ra-am i-na ma-tim a-na šu-pi-i-im 35–36 ra-ga-am u Se-nam a-na u-ul-lu-qi-im 40–44 ki-ma dŠamaš a-na almāt qaqqadim wa- e-e-em-ma ma-tim nu-wu-ri-im 45–49 Anum u dEllil a-na ši-ir ni-ši u-ub-bi-im šu-mi ib-bu-u Hammurabi, the pious noble, fearing the gods— to make justice visible in the land to destroy evil and malevolence to rise as the sun over the blackheaded people and lighting the land, Anu en Enlil called my name to bring the people prosperity.

448

Cyrus Cylinder

6 la pa-li (N)448 7 pa-la- a dMarduk šar ilāni ig-mur (N) 23 u-mi-šam a-še- a-a pa-la-a -šu (C) 35 šarru pa-li- i-ka (C) 14 i-na ki-it-ti u mi-ša-ru iš-te-ne-’e-e-ši-na-a-ti (C) 8 i-na ab-ša-a-ni la ta-ap-šu-uJ-ti u- al-liq (N) 13 almāt qaqqadim 18 im-mi-ru pa-nu-uš-šu-un (C)

12 it-ta-bi ni-bi-it-su (. . .) iz-zak-ra šumšu (C) not fearing the fear of Marduk, he banished daily I sought to fear you (C) the king who fears you in truth and justice he shepherded them with a yoke unrelentingly he ruined them (he shepherded) the black-headed people their faces shone (Marduk) declared and called his name

A (N) refers to a statement about Nabonidus, a (C) to statement about Cyrus.

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Table (cont.) Codex Hammurabi Column XLVII (Epilogue) 9–10 a-am-mu-ra-pi šar-ru-um gi-it-ma-lum a-na-ku 11–14 a-na almāt qaqqadim ša dEnlil iš-ru-kam re-u-si-na dMarduk i-din-nam 17–18 aš-ri šu-ul-mi-im eš-te-i-ši-na-šim 19–20 pu-uš-qi wa-aš- u-tim u-pe-et-ti 32 qa-ab-la-tim u-be-el-li 35–37 ni-ši da-ad-mi a-bu-ur-ri u-šarbi-i 38–39 mu-gal-li-tam u-ul u-šar-ši-na-ti 67–69 i-na E-sag-ila bītim ša ki-ma ša-me-e u er- e-tim išdā-šu ki-na Hammurabi, the perfect king I am to the black-headed people, over whom Enlil appointed me as shepherd, and who Marduk gave to me . . . I sought places of peace for them, difficult and tricky places I laid open wars I ended the people of the inhabited world I led in green pastures I did not permit anyone to frighten them In the Esagila, the house of which the foundation was as solid as that of heaven and earth.

Cyrus Cylinder 20 Ku-ra-aš sarru kiš-sat enz. a-na-ku 13 almāt qaqqadim 14 i-na ki-it-ti u mi-ša-ru iš-te-ne-’e-e-ši-na-a-ti 25 ku-lat ma- a-zi-šu i-na ša-li-im-ti aš-te- e-e 19 i-na pu-uš-qu u u-de-e ig-mi-lu kul-la-ta-an (C) 17 ba-lu qab-li u ta- a-zi (C) 32 nišī-šu-nu u-pa-a - i-ra-am-ma u-te-er da-ad-mi-šu-un 24 mugal-li-ti ul u-šar-ši (C) 5 ta-am-ši-li E-sag-ila i-te-pu-uš-ma Cyrus, the king of the world, etc. I am the black-headed, he shepherded in truth and justice I sought the peace for all the cultic places, who had redeemed all from hardship and difficulty without fighting or battle All their people I returned th their dwelling places I did not permit anyone to frighten them An imitation of the Esagila he made

The ideal of the Babylonian kingship as described by the Codex Hammurabi is a king who fears Marduk, brings prosperity to his people, leads his people to green pastures like a shepherd, brings law and order, most especially protects the poor against the law of the fittest, ends

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wars, destroys evil and drives out terrorists (mugallitu, literally ‘intimidator’). It is clear that Nabonidus does not live up to this ideal: he does not fear Marduk; to the contrary, he banishes respect for Marduk. He creates a copy of the Esagila, which cannot be copied because it is the foundation of heaven and earth. Not evil, but he himself destroys his people. Cyrus, on the other hand, meets the criteria: he shows respect for Marduk, he makes the people’s faces glow with joy, he keeps them as a shepherd, he drives terrorists out of the country, and he lets the people live safely without any trouble. Finally, it seems logical to compare this text to the Verse Account on Nabonidus as well. We suspect that there are many similarities between these texts, given that they had the same time and place of origin, possibly even the same authors. Indeed, we find that they are very similar, although we should note that the references mostly concern the content, and/or refer to certain words. We hardly ever find two complete sentences that are the same. This could perhaps be explained on the basis of another genre. The Verse Account is a poetic text, written to be sung or recited, and we suppose that this genre has to fit different requirements than a construction inscription. We can probably no longer reconstruct which of these two texts is the oldest. We think that the order in which the texts are discussed here is the most likely chronological order. It is also known from the Bible that victory songs were written by the people as well. On the other hand, we can safely assume that the renovation of Imgur-Enlil took some time, so that the construction inscription was probably made some months or even years after the conquest. The rather secular nature of the Verse Account (the gods hardly appear in this poem, let alone do they act in it), stands in contrast to the rather religious text on the cylinder, which suggests that the author of the cylinder had more distance from the events themselves.449

449

Compare to Jgs 4 and 5.

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We have summarized the similarities in a scheme below:

I,17

II,4

The Verse Account The Cylinder ul a-di im-tal-ku l. 18 i -du-ú a-na šarru-ú-ti-šu is not happy, they decided they rejoiced at his kingship lu-ub-ni bit-su lu-ub-šimma šu-bat-su I will build his house, design his dwelling

l. 32 ú-šar-ma-a šu-bat darâti and I let them dwell in eternal I will abodes

II,11

ZAG.MUK lu-ša-ab- il l. 7 I will cause the New Year feast to cease.

II,32

ut-ta-as-si-is [The people] wailed

VI,2

l. 25 Babilam ina ša-li-im-tim ášBabiliki šu-lum-su-nu iqta-bi te- e-e [ for the inhabitants of ] I sought the peace of the Babylon he declared peace city of Babylon

VI,11

sat-tuk-ku ú-šab- i-li he put an end to the regular offerings

l. 23 i-na ul- i ù ri-ša-tim amidst rejoicing and happiness

al- i ib-ta-ni ina Im-gurl. 38 Im-gur-dEN.LIL . . . du-un-nuEn-lil nim áš -te- e-e-ma he built the fortifications Dur-Imgur-Enlil . . . I sought on the Imgur-Enlil-wall to strengthen

d

VI,13 ut-tir ana at-ma-nu-šu-un he returned to their chapels

l. 32 a-na áš-ri-šu-nu ú-ter-ma I returned them to their places

We see the same themes come up that we saw when we looked at references with Ashurbanipal, although in a negative sense, obviously. While Nabonidus made joy disappear, the Babylonians rejoiced about Cyrus’ kingship. While Nabonidus built all kinds of new temples and instated cults, Cyrus did what was right: he let the gods move into their eternal places of residence. Nabonidus takes Tema, kills the population and lamentations rise from the streets, while Cyrus takes Babylon

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with rejoicing and cries of happiness, because he only means to bring peace to this city. Metaphors As stated by Berger, there are little comparisons and metaphors in this text. We have only been able to find one of each: – the “yoke” as a standard metaphor for taxes: l. 8, 25. – “whose number, like water of the river, cannot be known” as a comparison for the greatness of Cyrus’ army: l. 16. Structure We can classify the events as follows, also based on what we said before about the genre of the text: PART I: CYRUS’ CALLING 3–8 overview Nabonidus’ rule 9–14 calling Cyrus by Marduk 15–19 conquest Babylon by Cyrus (he-message) PART II: CYRUS’ REACTION 20–30a conquest Babylon by Cyrus (I-message) 30b–34a restoring the cult 34b–36 prayer for Cyrus and Cambyses in Babylon PART III: OCCASION/CONSTRUCTION OF IMGUR-ENLIL 38–43? construction activities A more specific image/structure is given below: A antecedents Nabonidus or praise of Marduk (?) (1–3) B Nabonidus acts harmful with Babylon (3–8) C Marduk and gods are angry with Nabonidus (9–11a) X Marduk searches a king and appoints Cyrus (11b–13) C Marduk rejoices about Cyrus’ righteousness (14) B Marduk orders Cyrus to take Babylon (15–19) A antecedents Cyrus (20–22a) B Cyrus conquers Babylon (22b–26a) C Marduk rejoices about Cyrus (26b) X Marduk honours Cyrus and Cambyses (27–30a) C the gods are no longer angry (30b–34a) B prayer for Cyrus and Kambyses in Babylon (34b–36) A calling Cambyses ‘my son’ (35) Construction inscription/real occasion of the text (38–45). Ashurbanipals name is mentioned.

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We suspect that the first lines must have contained information that revealed that Nabonidus was a usurpator who did not stand in any tradition. This is an educated guess, of course, but the word ma û “worthless” (l. 3) leads us to believe something of this kind is the matter. The antecedentes moreover play a large role: they frame the text, as it were. The writer made it clear to us that not only had Cyrus been chosen by Marduk to be king over Babylon, but he also stands in a long dynastic tradition. This is the reason that the text in lines 34b-36 amounts to a prayer, which already includes the successor Cambyses. It is also the reason that Ashurbanipal is mentioned so explicitly at the end: Cyrus stands in an honourable tradition of Mesopamian kings. What enabled the kings to distinguish themselves in this tradition? Honourability is emphasized through the use of the motif word “fear” of Marduk (l. 6, 7, 17, 23, 27, 35) and the gods. Furthermore, these kings meant well for Babylon’s inhabitants and grant them privileges. Nabonidus, by contrast, loads an “inappropiate yoke” (l. 8 and 25) on Babylon. By contrast, Cyrus, the just king, even ensures that Babylon receives tribute (l. 29b-30b). This makes it even clearer that this text was written from a Babylonian perspective. We first hear the story from the perspective of an external focalizator, who speaks about Cyrus in the first person, and subsequently from the perspective of Cyrus himself. 3.9.5. The theology/ideology of the text Focalization of the king First of all, let it be said that the king has ample opportunity to focalize himself. More than half of the text is by the king. We moreover concluded that the external focalizator shares the king’s vision completely. Moreover, both kings (Nabonidus and Cyrus) are each other’s claire-obscure opposites.

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The following overview shows this clearly: Fext about Nabonidus

Fext about Cyrus

a worthless one

the righteous one

was appointed (n.b. passivum: by whom?—not by Marduk!)

Marduk him by the hand and declared him, calling his name . . .

Cyrus about himself

Cyrus about Nabonidus

whose rule Bel and Nabu loved

to Ur and the other cult places . . .?

I sought the peace of Babylon and all cult places

an inappropriate ritual

I returned the gods to their places

Who had brought the gods into Babylon, to the anger etc.

without respect

the king without daily I sought fear was delivered to the fear of him by Marduk Marduk

he did evil

his good deeds

about my good deeds

he ruined all his people

he shepherded people in truth and justice

I gathered all their inhabitants and returned to them their dwellings

a yoke unrelentingly

he saved Babylon from hardship

I relieved their wariness and freed them from their service

The gods became furiously angry

Marduk rejoiced

Marduk rejoiced The anger of the about my good lord of the gods deeds great, mighty king, ancient seed of kingship

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The only difference in focalization is that Fext argues that Cyrus’ kingship depends on Marduk, while Cyrus himself states that he has both Bel (= Marduk) and Nabu to thank for his kingship. It seems to me, however, that this is a detail that makes the text all the more real against the background of the henolatric, Ancient Near Eastern ideology. Valuation of the war The war is valuated positively in the sense that it is deemed the goal was justified. On the other hand, the text makes it clear to us that it is amazing that Cyrus was able to take Babylon “without fighting or battle” and entered the city “in a peaceful manner” and “amidst rejoicing and happiness”. In this respect, too, we can see that the perspective is not so much the perspective of the king as it is the perspective of the priests or even of the people. It is the peaceful nature of the entire operation rather than the acts of war that serve to increase the honor and glory of the king. The war is justified because Nabonidus did harm to both the gods and the people (l. 3–8). The war is moreover justified by the gods, because initiative was taken by Marduk. Furthermore, according to the external focalizators, Marduk was the one who “made the land of Gutium and all the Umman-manda bow in submission at the feet” of Cyrus (l. 13). The conquest of Babylon subsequently happened on his “command” (l. 15) and that is not all: Marduk even accompanies him “like a companion and a friend”. There is a slight difference in the accent Cyrus lays in his story. Here, it is not so much Marduk who takes initiative, but Cyrus himself. All Marduk does is give Cyrus a “magnanimous heart” (l. 23), so that Cyrus “is seeking daily the fear of Marduk”. Cyrus also says that “Mardruk rejoiced over my good deeds” (l. 26). The one thing Cyrus ascribes to Marduk, is that all gods bring a tribute “at his exalted word” (r. 28). Note that (like in many biblical texts) no acts of war take place in this “war story”! Effect of the valuation of th war on the valuation of the king By now, it will be clear that the positive valuation of the battle has a highly advantageous effect on the valuation of the king. Focalization of the gods One could call the ideology henolatric: there are various gods, each of which deserves to be worshipped, but within the pantheon, there

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is a preference for one god, depending on the location or the person who is worshipping. In this manner, it is acknowledged that Cyrus ascribes his royal power to both Bel and Nabu, while other cult places and their gods are also acknowledged. The gods, however, also have a clear common interest: living in their own “eternal” places of residence in peace and quiet. This is in the interest of the gods and of “their inhabitants” (l. 32–33). According to the text, Marduk has a double role in all of this. As lord of the gods (l. 9), or “great lord” (l. 14 and 33) ánd as “guardian of his people” (l. 14), he is primus inter pares and has to defend the common interest of all gods and people. Yet, as the god of Babylon, his most important concern is this city: he gives Cyrus a special predilection for Babylon and has all people bring tribute to Babylon (l. 29–31). Relationship between divine and human activity The gods do not interfere disproportionately with what happens on earth. Their interference finds a vessel in the form of the king, who acts on their behalf. Apparently, it so happens (the responsibility for this event is left undecided, with the use of the passivum “was installed”) that a “worthless person” shows up. The people begin to complain (l. 9—compare to Ex. 3) and the gods listen to them: they get angry. A king should have “fear” for the gods, and this attitude entails upkeeping “rest and peace” for the cult places and into striving after “truth and justice” for the people. The gods do not interfere directly, according to this text, but apparently act through the king. There is a difference with the Bible in the fact that the gods do not act via prophets, priests and common people in the first place; instead, the king is a vicarius deorum. Theology/ideology of the text As shown by Amesz, there are both interesting similarities and interesting differences between the ideology of the Cyrus Cylinder and that of several biblical texts.450 A remarkable similarity to the Bible is the thought that the national god is using the foreign king. In the cylinder,

450 J.G. Amesz, “Plotseling is Babel gevallen: Een onderzoek naar de rol van JHWH en Mardoek in teksten over de val van Babel ( Jer. 50/51 en Cyrus-cilinder)”, ACEBT 8 (1987), 80–86.

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Cyrus is used, and in Jeremiah 51, which was analyzed by Amesz, it is Nebuchadrezzar. A difference, however, is that YHWH also uses the foreign king as punishment, while Marduk seems to care purely for the good and the well-being of the people, says Amesz. YHWH sends Nebukadrezzar as punishment for the unfaithfulness of the entire people but he drives him out again later, using an enemy from the North, because Nebukadrezzar becomes overly confident. Marduk, on the other hand, stands up for his people—his anger pertains only Nabonidus, as the king. We can confirm this: we have seen that the writer uses a passivum to indicate Nabonidus’ appointment, which leaves us guessing who appointed Nabonidus. So Marduk and the gods care about peacefulness, truth and justice. The century-old cults should not be interrupted and the city rights that Babylon has obtained should not be infringed upon. The text seems to suggest that a king who stands in a long tradition, such as Cyrus, offers a better assurance that he will maintain this tradition, even if he is a foreign king, than a “worthless who is installed”. Marduk, as “lord of the gods” and “guardian of people”, is the guard of this order and, in this role, intervenes in favour of his people and the gods. He does this through the king as vicarius deorum. Like in the Bible, this function is conditional and can therefore also be taken away from the king. The fact that the Sitz im Leben of the text must have been close to the Esagila becomes clear when we envision the Akitu festival. During this festival, a king of Babylon was stripped of all his dignity, dragged to Marduk by the priests, and made to kneel and address Marduk with the following words: [ Je n’ai pas com]mis de faute, oh roi de tous les pays, je n’ai pas été négligent à l’égard de ta divinité. [ Je n’ai pas dé]truit Babylone, je n’ai pas ordonné sa dispersion. Je n’ai pas [profané] l’Esagil, je n’ai pas oublié ses rites (. . .) [ Je veille] sur Babylone, je n’ai pas abattu ses murailles.451

The wording of this ritual exactly conveys the criteria by which the writer of the cylinder judges the king: attitude towards Marduk, dedication to Babylon’s well-being, respect for the Esagila, observance of the rites in the Esagila and care for the walls of Babylon. After this yearly “Walk to Canossa”, the yearly investiture with the regalia took

451

F. Thureau-Dangin, Rituels accadiens, Paris 1921, 144.

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place once more and the king received his mandate of a year. Using the historical comparison once more, Nabonidus, with his ten years in Tema and the resulting postponement of the Akitu festival, was waging some sort of an investiture struggle with Marduk’s priests. The way in which this text works, compared to any text we analyzed before, comes closest to the way the biblical prophecies worked. We find a “critical conservatism” with respect to kings similar to prophets such as Elijah, who stand up for old institutions such as the inheritance (1 Kgn. 21) or the Deuteronomist, who, by contrast, stood up for a correct cultic practice. Berger speaks of “einheimische Traditionen” and “nationalistischen Blickwinkel der Babylonier”452 in this context. This ideology is explicit in the text: by using Marduk and the gods as an internal focalizator, it is completely clear what a king should do according to the writer. 3.10. The chronicle of Esarhaddon 3.10.1. Introduction to the chronicle of Esarhaddon Translation Text edition and translation: – R. Borger, Die Inschriften Asarhaddons, Königs von Assyrien (AfO Beiheft 9), Graz 1956, 121–125 – A.K. Grayson, Assyrian and Babylonian Chronicles (= ABC), Locust Valley 1975, 125–128 – B.H. Smith, Babylonian Historical Texts Relating to the Capture and Downfall of Babylon (= BHT), London 1924, 1–21 Translation: – ANET, 303 – J.-J. Glassner, Chroniques mésopotamiennes, Paris 1993, 187–189

452 Berger, “Der Kyros-Zylinder, 217: “Hierin [i.e. in the use of the word ma û for Nabonidus] wie auch im Rückgriff auf alte einheimische Traditionen wird die geistige Herkunft des Inschriftproduzenten deutlich. Sie ist gekennzeichnet durch die späte Rachegesinnung der Mardukpriesterschaft, die durch die Bevorzugung des Sînkultes und Neueinrichtung anderer Kulte sowie durch das Ausbleiben der Neujahrsfeierlichkeiten während der Abwesenheit Nabonids in ihren Einkünften geschmälert wurde.”

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Obverse (1) [. . .] the king of El[am . . .]453 (2) [. .E]sarhaddon [. . .] (3) In the month Ulūlu: Anu-rabu and the gods of De[r . . .] (4) um umia and Shimal[ia . . .] (5) In the month Tashritu [. . .] the forecourt kušurru454 in the mont[h . . .] (6) The second year: the majordomo [made a selection]455 in Akkad. (7) In the same year: Arza captured and its possessions [sacked].456 (8) The [people] plundered, the king and [his] son taken prisoner. (9) A slaughter in Bu[shua] and a slaughter of the Cimmerians in Shubu nu. (10) The third year: [. . .]a eshullim, governor of Nippur, and Shamashibni, the Dakkurean, (11) were transported to Assyria and executed in Assyria.

453

The Babylonian Chronicle III,39–42, is constructed in such a way that Esarhaddon’s reign begins with the campaign by Nabu-zer-kitti-lishir, governor of ‘Sealand’ (māt tâmtim), against Ur, who flees from the Assyrian troops to Elam, where the king of Elam puts him on trial. In the Chronicle of Esarhaddon, we only recognize the words “the king of Elam”. We can no longer determine whether this is the same event or whether the later text merely commemorates umban- altash’ rise to the throne. With respect to the Babylonian Chronicle, see Grayson, ABC, 69–87. 454 Smith initially interpreted this as šamšu iskip urru and translated it as a solar elipse. This hypothesis is not supported either by astronomic or linguistic evidence. It is not clear what the original text may have said. 455 This emendation is based on line 12, where it says bi irtu ibte ir with subject rab bīti. We are also not sure about the translation. Von Soden explains the verb in AHw as an Aramaic loan word, related to the Akkadic bêru, ‘to choose’, ‘to select’, thereby adopting the suggestion by Bauer and Landsberger, who interpreted the word based on the Hebrew ‫בחר‬. See Bauer and Landsberger, “Zu neuveröffentlichten Geschichtsquellen”, 74: “Für die Bedeutung könnte man auf Veranstaltung einer Aushebung raten.” Smith, BHT, 14: “raised a levy”. Also see G. Frame, Babylonia 689 –627 B.C.: A Political History, Istanbul 1992, 243–244, who points out that ‫ בחר‬does not have a military connotation. We add the consideration that the rab bīti was not part of the military command structure. He does not play a role, at least, in R. Mattila, The King’s Magnates: A Study of the Highest Officials of the Neo-Assyrian Empire (SAAS vol. XI), Helsinki 2000. Ook J.A. Brinkman, Prelude to Empire: Babylonian Society and Politics 747–626 B.C. (BFOP), Philadelphia 1984, 77, n. 375, thinks that research into the function of the rab bīti will form the key to determining the meaning of bi irtu ibte ir. Incidentally, Frame ultimately interprets this phrase as speaking of an occasional military selection. We think the phrase may be referring to a cultic custom. See below. I leave the translation undecided here. 456 Seeing as that the stativus is used frequently in this text, I chose to mark this clearly by translating these verbs as nominal sentences with a past participle. I find that this is a better expression of the staccato of the text. It is a great achievement of the writer, anyway: twelve years of history on a tablet of 5 × 7,6 cm!

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(12) The fou[rth ye]ar: Sidon captured and its possessions sacked. In that same year: the majordomo made a selection in Akkad. (13) The fifth year in the month Tashritu on the second day: the troops of Assyria captured Bazza. (14) In the month Tashritu: the head of the king of Sidon was cut off and brought to Assyria. (15) The sixth year: the troops of Assyria marched to Milidu and encamped against Mugallu.457 (16) In the month Ulūlu on the fifth day: umban- altash, k[ing of El]am, not ill but healthy, died in his palace. (17) For six years umban- altash was king of Elam. (18) Urtaki, his brother, ascended the throne in Elam. (19) MU.MU, the governor of Nippur, and Kudurru, de Dakkurean, [were executed].458 (20) The seventh year, in the month Addaru on the eighth day: the troops of Assyria [marched to] Sha-amile.459 (21) In that same year: Ishtar of Akkad and the gods of Akkad left Elam (22) and [entered] Akkad on the tenth day of the month Addaru.

457 The Babylonian chronicle IV,9 departs from this translation by mentioning a campaign by the king of Elam to Sippar before the campaign to Milidu. The former campaign supposedly ended with slaughter (dīktu dîkat). The chronicle goes on to mention that “Shamash did not leave the Ebabbarra”. 458 Also compare to lines 10–11, which also speak of the governor of Nippur and a Dakkurian. Their fate is unclear. The Babylonian chronicle IV,15 says abku “were deported”, but according to Grayson, it is certain that this cannot be what is written in our text. The name MU.MU would certainly have been interpreted as Nadin-shumi or Shum-idinna, but we do cannot infer more than this. Sign 61 MU could (among other things) be an ideogram for šumu ‘name’ and for nadānu ‘to give’ (furthermore, it is frequently used as ideogram for ‘year’ in this text). 459 Once again, like in line 15, the text leaves out an event that was disadvantageous to Esarhaddon. The Babylonian Chronicle IV,16 says: ummāni kurAssur ina kurMi ir dîkū meš “the armies of Ashur were killed/beaten in Egypt.” We regard Smith’s attempt to turn the name Sha amile (literally: ‘(city) of the people’) into the fortress Pelusium, via the Egyptian city Andropolis, as both ingenious and incredible. We think the same of the hypothesis in: G. Fecht, “Zu den Namen ägyptischer Fürsten und Städte in den Annalen des Assurbanipal und der Chronik des Asarhaddon”, Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Abt. Kairo 16 (1958), 112–119. Based on four laws of sounds, Fecht relates Sha-amile to the Egyptian border town Sile. With this assumption, he has explained the remarkable difference between the Babylonian and the Esarhaddon Chronicle. Esarhaddon supposedly unsuccessfully tried to take Sile directly in his eighth year. In his tenth year, he must have attacked the city in the back with a surprise attack, as some sort of Hannibal, and must have been successful this second time.

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(23) The eighth year, in the month Addaru on the sixth day: the king’s wife died. Reverse (24) In the month Addaru on the eighteenth day: the troops of Assyria [captured] Shubr[ia].460 (25) Its possessions sacked. The tenth year in the month Nisannu: the troops of Assyria [marched to Egypt].461 (26) In the month Tashritu on the third day: a mas[sacre] in Egypt.462 (27) The eleventh year: the king of Assyria463 put a lot of his officers [to the sword]. (28) The twelfth year: the king of Assyria marched to Egypt, (29) but became ill on the way and died in the month Ara samna on the [ten]th day. (30) For twelve years Esarhaddon was king of Assyria. (31) For eight years under Sennacherib and for twelve years under Esarhaddon— (32) twenty years, Bel stayed [in B]altil and the Akitu festival did not take place.

460

According to the Babylonian Chronicle IV,19, the conquest of Shubria took place in the month Tebētu, which is two months earlier. This chronicle dates this fact to before the death of the queen. Grayson, on the other hand, points out that in his commentary on the Babylonian chronicle, the writer himself already indicates that the original from which he is copying is broken at this point by using the word epi (‘broken’). See ABC, 84. According to the Babylonian Chronicle, the loot is brought to Uruk in the month Kislimu, which is the month before Tebētu and even three months before Addaru! The references to the months are not very reliable in this case. Also see J.A. Brinkman, “The Babylonian Chronicle Revisited”, in: T. Abusch e.a. (ed.) Lingering Over Words: Studies in Ancient Near Eastern Literature in Honor of William L. Moran (HSS 37), Atlanta 1990, 73–104, especially 94. Brinkman thinks that the missing of the ninth year could be explained the lacuna in the original. 461 We made this addition based on the Babylonian Chronicle IV, 23. 462 In the Babylonian Chronicle IV,23–27, it even says that slaughtering took place three times, that the gods were swept away, that Memphis was taken, that the king fled and his brother and son were taken hostage. There is some confusion about the month in which the slaughtering took place amongst Assyriologists. Smith reads du’ūzu, Grayson tašrītu. He does so based on a collation. The Babylonian chronicle, however, dates the slaughtering to du’uzu, which is, incidentally, translated as nisannu by Borger, but this translation is clearly a mistake. 463 Brinkman, “The Babylonian Chronicle Revisited”, 104, based on his own collation, states that Smith, not Grayson, was right with this interpretation “In Assyria the king killed . . .”

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(33) Nabu did not come from Borsippa for the procession of Bel.464 (34) In the month Kislimu Ashurbanipal, [his] son, ascended the throne in Assyria. (35) The accession year465 of Shamash-shuma-ukin in the month Ajaru: Bel and the gods of [Akkad] (36) left Baltil and on the twenty-fifth of the month Ajaru [they entered] Babylon. (37) Nabu and the gods of Borsippa [went] to Babylon. (38) In that same year: Kirbitum taken and its king cap[tured]. (39) On the twentieth day of the month Tebetu: the judge of Babylon taken prisoner and executed. (40) (41) (42) (43) (44) (46)

The first year of Shamash-shuma-ukin [. . .] to [. . .] Taharqa, the king E[gypt . . .] Eg[ypt . . .] Neco, [king of ] Eg[ypt] [. . .]466

Left side Battles467 On the state of the material The text is written on a tablet (BM 25091, in other words it is presently kept in the British Museum), which is no larger than 7,6 × 5 centimeters. It is unknown where the tablet was found. One part is missing in the top part, and the tablet has been broken in the middle and been joint

464

Lines 31–33 are the only lines unique to the Chronicle of Esarhaddon compared to Babylonian Chronicle. Lines 34–39 are almost verbatim, after which the Babylonian Chronicle ends with a colophon, while the Chronicle of Esarhaddon seems to talk about the beginning of Shamash-shuma-ukin’s reign, as some sort of coda. 465 The accession year is different from the first full year of reign, which was called the “first year”—see MU I KAM in l. 40. 466 Grayson emendates to [MU II KA]M here, given that a small piece of ‘KAM’ is visible, apparently. One can wonder whether it is logical that a chronicle, which so obviously covers Esarhaddon’s reign, simply continues with the second year of Ashurbanipal and/or Shamash-shuma-ukin. Brinkman, “The Babylonian Chronicle Revisited”, 104, after having studied the original, also says: “To judge from the traces, this line definitely could not begin MU.2.KAM (collation).” 467 According to Grayson, ABC, 128, to most logical explanation for this rare inscription on the side of the tablet is that it is a library code. Also see Brinkman, “The Babylonian Chronicle Revisited”, 77.

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back together. The writing is clear and from the Neo-Babylonian or Persian period. There is only one chronicle that is dated, which is the Babylonian Chronicle (BChr). We can tell from the colophon that the chronicle stems from the 22nd year of Darius (500 B.C.) According to Glassner, the chronicle of Esarhaddon (EChr) is a “copie d’époque néo-babylonienne”.468 Historical background Regarding the historical background, we should make a distinction between the time that the text is speaking about, and the time in which the text was written down. The time that is described in the text is the reigning period of the Neo-Assyrian (as well as Babylonian) king Esarhaddon, who we discussed extensively in earlier chapters. The text covers the period from the first year of his reign (681 B.C.) until the first year of the reign of his successor Shamash-shuma-ukin (668 B.C.). The importance of this text and of the BChr is very large because these texts tell us something that was not yet known from other sources, this being the elaborate literary legacy by Esarhaddon himself. Examples of new information include the date of the campaign to Arza (679 B.C.); the fact that Esarhaddon possibly led a campaign to Egypt in the year 674, as well as the fact that this campaign was probably not very successful, given the fact that Esarhaddon himself does not mention it;469 the month in which Ashurbanipal rose to the throne as well as some other details. Incidentally, there are also differences between the BChr and the EChr. 468

Glassner, Chroniques, 187. This is how it is generally interpreted: the objective BChr calls it a defeat, Esarhaddon keeps silent on the matter, so the BChr is probably right. Brinkman, “The Babylonian Chronicle Revisited”, points out that this conclusion is drawn too quickly. Even if the BChr is unprejudiced, the writer can still be wrong. See p. 92: “It would be difficult in these cases to establish that we are dealing with omissions by one chronicler rather than additions by the other.” It is not without reason that the first campaign to Egypt stands close to a epi ‘lacuna’, identified in the original by the writer. The fact that the ninth year is missing may have something to do with the same lacuna. Another aspect in which the writer of the BChr may be mistaken is Elam’s attack on Sippar, which he reports for the sixth year of Esarhaddon. It is possible that he confuses the attack with an attack that was executed in the sixth year of the reign of Ashur-nadinshumi. This name and Esarhaddon’s name are almost identical in cuneiform script: AN.ŠAR.MU.MU respectively AN.ŠAR.ŠEŠ.MU, while the signs ŠEŠ and MU also closely resemble each other. Brinkman states that the information that these two facts are missing in the EChr should not lead us to conclude that the writer wanted to make Esarhaddon look good. It is also possible that the writer of the BChr filled in the lacuna differently than the writer of the Echr, based on the information each possessed. 469

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The BChr mentions an attack by Elam and a bloodbath as a result of 675 B.C., as well as the defeat of Esarhaddon in Egypt in 674 B.C. The EChr does not mention these setbacks, but instead mentions another campaign to Sha-amile, a Chaldean city, in 674 B.C. The time from which the text originates makes the text interesting to our research. While so far we have mostly dealt with kings who recorded their own, recent actions, we are now presented with a text, which was still considered worthwhile of copying by people who lived about one-and-a-half century after Esarhaddon.470 The EChr stems from the same milieu as larger pieces, the so-called ‘Babylonian Chronicle series’.471 This series describes the kings of Babylon from 747 onwards and was to be continued later on, in the Late Babylonian period, until the third century B.C. Genre The chronicle is frequently called the Babylonian counterpart of the Assyrian annals.472 This comparison however, hardly tells us anything new; rather it clouds our vision on the function of the chronicles.473 The reason that scholars draw this parallel is understandable, for it is exactly this reasoning that led us to include the chronicle in our research: chronicles, for a large part deal with wars. It seems that the Babylonian kings were as disinterested in the theme ‘war’ as the Assyrian kings were preoccupied with the theme. The chronicles, however, seems to be a Babylonian genre that reports on military events. There is another similarity between both genres: the strict chronological order. Apart from these two similarities there are numerous differences. According to Grayson, a chronicle is “a prose narration, normally in

470 We note that the copyists may have been operating at the same time, perhaps even at the same place as the authors of the Deuteronomistic history! 471 According to Landsberger and Bauer, “Zu neuveröffentlichten Geschichtsquellen”, 61–62, it is even part of it. Grayson, “Assyria and Babylonia”, 172–177, classifies this chronicle as being part of the same group (‘Category A’), but still regards the two as separate stories. 472 Landsberger en Bauer, “Zu neuveröffentlichten Geschichtsquellen”, 61, even regarded these two genres as equal, but we cannot be sure about this from the context of their time. They called the chronicles “die in Annalenform niedergelegte historische Überlieferung der Babylonier.” 473 See Van Seters, In Search of History, 292–302. In reference to the book of Kings, he points out that one should be careful to keep in mind the difference between these genres.

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the third person, of events arranged in chronological order.”474 Annals are written in the first person singular! A second difference: annals may have been ordered chronologically, but this aspect is of secondary importance, so to speak. First and foremost, the king wants to record his campaigns. For this reason, he sometimes does not count the years of his reign (līmu), but his campaigns ( girru). Years in which no campaign was held are skipped seeing as that other events were not worth mentioning. By contrast, the writers of the chronicles care about the precise dates: every year forms a new paragraph and each event in one year is mentioned including the month and the day. These events are frequently military events, but they could also be events of an entirely different nature: astronomical peculiarities, cultic events, the death of a member of the Royal House or internal affairs. The most important difference between both genres is their function. Annals served a purely propagandistic tool, as we saw before (chapter 3.4 and 3.7): spreading the royal ideology. This is not true for the chronicles. They were not written at the court; rather, they were probably composed from the archives of private writers.475 Grayson notes: “There is no clear propagandistic flavour to the chronicles. Unlike the Assyrian scribes the Babylonian neither fail to mention Babylonian defeats nor do they attempt to change them into victories [. . .] Can we then conclude that these documents are the product of a sincere desire to keep a brief and accurate record of Babylonian history for its own sake? It is at least possible.”476 It remains to be seen whether this is also true for the EChr. We have seen that the Echr leaves out two defeats by Esarhaddon that

474

Grayson, “Assyria and Babylonia”, 172. This is not true for all chronicles. 476 Grayson, “Assyria and Babylonia”, 175. Also note that Grayson bases his reasoning on a rather narrow view on propaganda: defeats are mentioned and therefore it is not propaganda. Can criticism not form part of propaganda? The Old Testament and the Verse Account on Nabonidus (chapter 3.8) express criticism on their own kings, but can be regarded as a form of propaganda in a broader sense. Perhaps we should rephrase Grayson’s statement as follows: it does not seem that the classical Mesopotamian ideology is propagated in the chronicles. This finding is sufficiently interesting in itself. While we observed defensive action by the king against an opposition without voice in the ‘Report to Ashur’, and came across people who had a medium of communication outside of the circles of the court without actively raising opposition in the prophecies, the chronicles may have been written by writers who held an independent judgment over a king. 475

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are mentioned in the BChr. Does this mean that the writer wants to portray Esarhaddon positively, as is argued by Grayson?477 On the other hand: what about all the cultic remarks about processions and feasts that were celebrated during Shamash-shuma-ukin’s reign, but not during Esarhaddon’s reign? And what interest did the writers have in portraying a king who lived a century-and-a-half earlier either positively or negatively? What, moreover, was the Sitz im Leben or in der Literatur of these texts? We can hardly call this tablet 5 × 7,6 centimetre monumental. Nor does the rhetoric of this text (or rather: the lack of rhetoric) indicate that the text was intended to be read out loud. It seems that these texts served a ‘scientific’ (historical or religious) rather than a propagandistic goal.478 A last reason to not call the chronicles the Babylonian counterpart of the Assyrian annals, is the fact that Assyrian chronicles are also known to us, although only a small number. In short: in all of Mesopotamia, chronicles were kept throughout the ages.479 The Assyrian kings developed the genre of the annals parallel to these existing chronicles, and with an entirely different goal. The BChr and the EChr are similar word-for-word in many places. Seeing as that each text also mentions some facts that the other does not, it is not logical to suppose that the one was the example for the other. Brinkman offers the hypothesis that the BChr was based on a source that was damaged. The writer indicates this twice by using the word epi (‘broken’) in the text. This could perhaps explain differences

477

Grayson, “Assyria and Babylonia”, 176. Also see note 15, however. Glassner, Chroniques mésopotamiennes, goes into the supposed ‘objective’ nature of the chronicles fairly elaborately. Based on a typical French philosophical tradition, he does not believe in objectivity and, on p. 65, writes that “L’interprétation historique dépend, en Mésopotamie comme ailleurs, d’une philosophie implicite qui renvoie à la subjectivité de l’auteur, lui-même imbu de l’idée qu’il écrit le ‘réel’.” He also dwells on the possible relationship between the astrological interest and the chronicles. He comes to the conclusion that there must be connections, without anyone being able to determine whether the one was the consequence of the other. He also points to an example of the oracles having a positive evaluation of the kings, while the chronicles are negative. But, on p. 64 he argues: “Il faut se souvenir, en réalité, que devins et chroniqueurs sont membres des mêmes cercles intellectuels, qu’il existe entre eux des rapports d’affinité et des liens de parenté [. . .] et qu’ils partagent un goût identique pour la même culture et la même érudition.” 479 See Glassner, Chroniques mésopotamiennes, 53: the discovery of the so-called ‘eponymchronicles’ in Mari from the eighteenth century tell us that the genre is old. 478

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between the two chronicles.480 One gets the impression that the writers used texts that are part of the same family of texts, while he also disposed of other sources. According to Brinkman it is remarkable that the chronicles have more similarities when they concern older periods (the second millennium) than when they speak of the seventh century. He presumes that this relates to the smaller historical distance and the availability of more and more diverse sources. Brinkman regards Grayson’s theory, which states that the chronicles used astrological diaries as a source, as unverified. According to him, more research should be done into this matter, seeing as that he found resemblances in style, as well as differences in the facts and idiom upon closer examination. 3.10.2. The level of the event Classification of the events The text contains an enumeration of events. An overview is given of the twelve years of Esarhaddon’s reign. It is striking that the writer is only interested in a limited number of themes. We think we can classify these themes as follows, using the appropriate motif words:481 a. cult

b. selection c. war: c1 marching of the army c2 conquest of a city c3 loot c4 taking hostage c5 slaughtering d. execution high officials (abāku +)

480

names of gods + ultu + name of location 1 or name of temple 1 +alāku/wa û + ana + name of location 2 + erēbu/alāku bi irtu ibte ir ummānu or šar + alāku abātu šallatsu šallatu, abātu abātu dīktu dîkat dâku, also: qaqqadu nakāsu

Brinkman, “The Babylonian Chronicle Revisited”, 90–95. Grayson, ABC, 8, also points out that the chronicles 1 through 7 (which forms the series BChr) have obvious formulaic turns of phrases for such events as battle, defeat, retreat and death. These are other formulas than the ones used in our chronicle, though. Glassner, Chroniques mésopotamiennes, 96, reduces the number of subjects to four: “la guerre, l’avènement et la mort des rois, les troubles civils, l’interruption des cultes.” 481

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mît, mîtat number of years + name of king 1 + šarrūtsu ipuš + name of king 2 + ina kusse wašābu

The text has the following structure: 680/79

679/8

year 1

year 2

678/7

year 3

677/6

year 4

676/5

year 5

675/4

year 6

674/3

year 7

673/2

year 8

umban- altash (?)rises to the throne Esarhaddon (?) rises to the throne Anu-Rabu and the gods of Der . . .? selection conquest of Arza

Bushua and Shubu nu [. . .]a ešullim and Shamashibni Sidon selection Bazza king of Sidon Milidu and Mugallu umban- altas, king of Elam Urtaki MU.MU and Kudurru Sha-amile Ishtar of Akkad and the gods of Elam wife of the king Shubria

f 482 f a b ccd

conquest loot taking hostage slaughtering

c - conquest - loot b c - conquest d c - marching e f d c - to set out a e c - conquest - loot

482 Seeing as that it is told that umban- altash has reigned for six years in the sixth year of Esarhaddon, they apparently became king in the same year.

614 672/1 671/0 670/69

rest of 669

668/67

chapter three year 10

Egypt

c - marching - slaughtering year 11 the greats of Assyria d year 12 Egypt c - marching Esarhaddon e Bel and the Akitu festival a Ashurbanipal f accession Bel and the gods of Assyria a year Kirbitu c - conquest - taking hostage the judge of Babylon d year 1 ? c Tirhaka and Neco c of f (?)

If we classify these events, we get the following scheme:

event\year

1

a. cult

x

b. selection

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10 11 12

0

xx

x

x x

1

x

c. war c1 marching

x

c2 conquest

x

x

c3 loot

x

x

c4 hostages

x

c5 slaughtering

x

d. execution

f. succession to the throne

x

x

x? x

x

x

x x

x?? /

x

x x?

e. death

x

x

x

x x

x x x

x?

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Improvement/turn for the worse It is difficult to answer the question whether the narrated events entail an improvement or a turn for the worse. This is caused, on the one hand, by the large amount of events contained in the text, and on the other hand, by he brevity of the text: the events never grow into a ‘story’ (see below). The sobriety of the text generates the impression of ‘objectivity’, in any case of distance. a. Cult:

What does the writer want to tell us with these remarks? In any case, it seems justified to conclude that an improvement takes place at this point. Lines 31–33, the material exclusive for the EChr compared to the BK, could be betraying the most important interest of the writer. In this summary, he states that Bel (Marduk) stayed in Baltil (the old centre of the city of Ashur) during the last eight years of Sennacherib (in other words: since the destruction of Babylon) and during Esarhaddon’s twelve years and that in this period, the Akitu festival did not take place. As soon as Shamash-shuma-ukin rises to the throne, “Bel and the gods of Akkad” return from Ashur, as do “Nabu and the gods of Borsippa”. b. Selection: The meaning of the remark bi irtu ibte ir remains obscure. The fact that this ‘selection’ in the fourth year only took place after the war is an indication that these events have little to do with the theme ‘war’. As an aside, we only know one instance that this remark occurs for certain. In line 6, it is an emendation. The expression bi irtu ibte ir and even the verb have never been found outside of the chronicles. c. War: The wars that were waged generally entail an improvement, although not all. The fact that Esarhaddon falls ill during the campaign to Egypt and dies is not omitted in line 29. And the campaigns in lines 15 and 20 to Milidu and Sha-amile seem to have an undecided ending. d. Execution: It is mentioned five times that the high officials are executed. Once, it is a hostile king. Perhaps this element should be classified under ‘c’. One does not get the impression that this is related to approval or disapproval by the author—it is simply mentioned. A reason for the executions is not given. The names are generally given,

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except in l. 27, when all that is mentioned is that “the king put a lot of his officers to the sword. This sentence could be another bit of information indicative of the instability of Esarhaddon’s government.483 It might indicate that even in the eleventh year, there was still an opposition that he had to dispose of. e. Death: It is also worth mentioning the death of members of the royal house. It seems logical to mention the death of kings in a chronicle, as succession should be told (l. 18 Elam and l. 34 Assyria). But it is remarkable that the death of the queen is also mentioned (l. 23). f. Succession: Apparently, succession in the neighbour country Elam is interesting to our chroniqueur. Or would it be the case that any royal succession in any neighbour country was deemed to be important information? It is a pity that the remarks on Tirhaka and Neko at the end of the text are not legible.484 It is also striking that Ashurbanipal is the only person of whom it is explicitly mentioned that he succeeds Esarhaddon (l. 34). Shamash-shumaukin is mentioned in l. 40, but without mentioning that he succeeds Esarhaddon as king of Babylon (although the ending of the text is rather incomplete so that we should not try to draw strong conclusions from these findings). Actors The matter of the actors should be treated differently than elsewhere in this study. We cannot speak of a quest in narratological sense, of a plot with a subject, destinateur, allies and opponents. It speaks volumes

483 Or of Esarhaddon’s bad health. See Pongratz-Leisten, Herrschaftwissen, 238–240, who, as we saw in 3.7, thinks that Esarhaddon wanted to secure Ashurbanipal’s succession because of his deteriorating health, among other things by disposing of potential enemies. 484 At first sight, one gets the impression that this part of the text is about Neco’s succession of Tirhaka. On the other hand, this does not confer with the historical reality of Neco reigning as a vassal of Assyria in the North at the same time as Tirhaka reigning in the South. Tirhaka only dies in 664, as does Neco, by the way. See Veenhof, Geschichte, 260–261. On grounds of our knowledge of the history, we can suppose that the chronicle said that Ashurbanipal marched to Tirhaka, while Neco was appointed king over Egypt by Ashurbanipal on this occasion. This supposedly takes place in elements c and f, respectively.

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that there is no grammatical or narratological subject in many lines because of the manifold use of the stativus and the passive N-stem (“the city is taken”, “the governor of Nippur is killed”). The writer is purely interested in the events sec, not in the causes, consequences or responsibilities. The actors that appear can be classified based on the events, like we did before: a. cult:

Anu-rabu and the gods of Der, um umia and Shimalia Ishtar of Akkad and the gods of Akkad Nabu, Bel, the gods of Assyria, the gods of Borsippa b. selection: the majordomo (rab-bīti) c. war: people of Arza, his king and his son (inhabitants of ) Bushua and the Cimmerians of Shubu nu Sidon the troops of Assyria Bazza, Milidu and Mugallu, Sha-amile, Shubria, Egypt the king of Assyria Kirbitu and his king Tirhaka and Neco d. execution: [. . .]a eshullim, de governor of Nippur and Shamashibni, the Dakkurian the king of Sidon MU.MU., the governor of Nippur, and Kudurru, the Dakkurian the greats of the king the judge of Babylon e. death: umban- altash, the king of Elam the wife of the king the king of Assyria f. succession: Esarhaddon (?) to the throne: Urtaki Ashurbanipal Shamash-shuma-ukin One cannot say that the king of Assyria is the ‘subject’ of the text, although the text has his reign as its subject. The first time that the king appears on stage in an acting capacity, is only in the eleventh year in l. 27, when he “put a lot of his officers to the sword”. Then, he appears

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in year twelve, when he marches against his enemy, falls ill and dies. In the field of war, the hard work is mostly done by “Assyria’s troops”, although it frequently not even mentioned who does the work and it is simply reported: “Sidon captured”. Time Time is clearly delimitated in this text. Delimitating time even seems to be the raison d’être of this text. In total, the text covers Esarhaddon’s kingship. It is remarkable that the chronicle does not cover the years 681–669 B.C., which is mentioned in our history books as part of Esarhaddon’s reign. Instead, the story begins in the first full year of Esarhaddon’s reign (680/679 B.C.) and probably ends485 in the first full year of the reign of his son Ashurbanipal (668/667 B.C.). The dates are indicated exactly by year, month and day. It is striking that one year, the ninth year, is missing. Place Just like the dates, the places are also reported carefully. It is not very useful to enumerate all the places that are mentioned here. There is no way of knowing whether the information is not only detailed but also correct, seeing as that there are remarkable differences between the Babylonian Chronicle and the Esarhaddon Chronicle concerning both the dates and the names of the locations. 3.10.3. The level of the event 486 Interventions in the order of time Because of the strict chronological nature of the text, hardly any interventions in the order of time are made. Even in l. 14, where it

485 If we indeed assume that l. 45 did not say MU.II.KAM, as if the writer simply continued with the second year of Ashurbanipal. See note 465. 486 One can wonder whether we have to do with a “story” at all. We have defined a story as a text that tells a history, defining history as a “series of logical and chronologically connected events”. See Bal, Theorie, 13. The fact that events are told in this text is evident. We can also see that these events are connected in a chronological sense. However, we cannot tell for certain whether they are connected in a logical way. Our first impression is that we are dealing with an isolated enumeration of facts. Nevertheless, it is our aim to find out whether there is a hidden logic to this enumeration. Perhaps the writer attaches a certain importance to the selection of the events he made and the order of these events. We cannot exclude on beforehand the possibility that the text involves certain logic of cause and effect, in other words: a “story”. In order

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would have been logical to make such an intervention, this does not happen. The king of Sidon is only is only put to the death sentence a year after Sidon is captured. A more theme-based narrator would have used ‘anticipation’ here: “a year later, the king of Sidon was to be sentenced to death.” The only place where we could speak of an intervention in the order of time is the ending, when a remark is made about the cult (l. 31–37). All of a sudden, a number of events are narrated that related to the entire period (even to the period before, Sennacherib’s reign). This begs the question why this is told at this point in the text. The writer could have chosen to tell these events based on the year, or he could have chosen to tell the other events based on their theme at the end (“Esarhaddon sent on a campaign three times during his reign” for example). The cultic events have extra weight because of this, both because of the number of lines devoted to them and because of their place in the text. Tempo The entire text is written in the tempo of ‘summary’, more precisely in the shortest form of summary possible. A better name for the verses is ‘labels’ or ‘titles’, instead of an actual summary of events. Note the use of stativi instead of the imperfecta that are generally used to narrate events! One could denote l. 31–33 as an ellipse: we had not heard anything of the discussion whether or not to let the Akitu festival take place during the reign of Sennacherib and Esarhaddon. In hindsight, it summons the question what this means for this period. This does also not become clear from the text. It remains a plain statement. Distribution of representational time Counting the number of verses and deducing the theme to which the most amount of representational time is devoted, shows us the following:

to detect this story, it is useful to subject the text to narratological questioning. We could perhaps compare the difficulty of our exercise to the difficulty someone without knowledge of the English language might have to interpret the telegram: “cloud silver line”. Three completely unrelated words tell a clear and important story to him who holds the right key.

620 a. cult: b. selection: c. war: d. execution: e. death: f. succession: unknown:

chapter three 10 lines 1,5 lines (1 of which is not for sure) 13,5 lines (2 of which are not for sure) 6 lines 3 lines 6 lines (2 of which are not for sure) 5 lines (line 5 and the last 4 lines)

It turns out that the war and the cult are important fields of interest to the writer. It does not seem that these two fields are related to each other in the text, but we will investigate whether a connection is suggested in some other way. Focalizations There is only one focalizator in the text, which is the external focalizator, the narrator. Not once does the narrator give the floor to a character; not even to a king, or a god.487 The king hardly appears in the text, and when he does, he never speaks in the first person singular. The lack of the king as an internal focalizators is an indication that we may not have a text on our hands that had as its goal to express the royal ideology. Effects of focalizations The effect of van de persistent use of external focalization is the impression of ‘objectivity’ or ‘a scientific approach’. This impression is further strengthened by the complete absence of words with a moral or emotional significance. Under the reservation of any mistakes that may have been made, it seems that the reader has no reason to doubt the accuracy of the information in the text. The modern reader does not doubt the information, nor did the ancient reader.488

487

We only know of one chronicle with one example of direct speech: Chronicle P. See Grayson, ABC, 59. The writer probably used an epos as source here, says Grayson. 488 The fact that the writer of the BChr uses as a kind of footnote the word epi, “breach” to tell that his original is broken, leaving this as an uncertainty rather than emendating it, inspires trust with the reader with respect to the writer’s intention to give the right information.

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3.10.4. The level of the text Repetitions of sounds/play with sounds The writer tried to spice up his text at the micro level by using alliterations and synonyms that rhyme. This impression is strengthened if we include the use of the figura etymologica (see below) l. 7

šatti šuāti489 Arzaia abit šallatsu šallat

l. l. l. l. l. l. l.

abtu [. . .] abtu šarru u māršu ana Aššur abku, ina Aššur dīku nakisma [. . .] naši ittalkū [. . .] ittadû ištallu [. . .] ittalkū šar Aššur—rabûtišu mādutu— ina kakki idduk

8 8 11 14 15 25 27

l. 38 Kirbiti abit šarrašu kašid

in the same year conquered Arza, took her possessions plundering . . . taking hostage the king and his son taken to Ashur, killed in Ashur cut off . . . brought marched . . . camped sacked . . . marched the king of Ashur put a lot of his officers to the sword (three alliterating word pairs in a row!) took Kirbittu, apprehended her king

Repetitions of words In this overview, we will disregard the indications ‘year’ (MU/šattu) and ‘month’ (‘iti’), as we will the determinatives (‘kur’, ‘ki’, ‘lu’). As we saw in the overview of the events, the motif words are closely tied into certain types of events. They also connect certain types of events to each other. In the overview of motif words, we note that the same word alāku ‘to go’ is used both for the ‘displacements’ of the gods and for those of the army. In a similar way the element of ‘slaughtering’ (diktu) is placed in the same framework as the internal executions (diku). All of this begs the question how we can retrieve something of the ideology of the writer by studying these motives:

489 We base ourselves on the pronunciation here. The Sumeric MU.BI must have been read as šatti šuāti in Akkadic.

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Themes and motif words in the Esarhaddon Chronicle alāku to go

bi irtu selection

abātu/šalālu dâku to take hostage/ to kill to sack

mâtu/šarrūtu epēšu/ina kusse wašābu to die/to exercise kingship/to take seat on the throne

3 Anurabû u ilāni ša Dēr . . . 6 [bi irtu ibte ir] 7 abit šallatsu šallat 8 abtū 9 dīktu dîkat 10/11 dîkū 12 abit šallatsu šallat 12 bi irtu ibte ir 13 i abtū 14 qaqqadu nakis 15 ummāni ittalkū 16 mît 17 šarrūtu epuš 18 ina kussê ittašab 19 [dîkū] 20 ummāni [ittalku] 21 Ištar u ilāni Elamti illukū 22 ana Agada iterbū 23 mîtat 24 i abtū 25 šallatsu ištallū 25 ummāni ittalkū

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Table (cont.) 26 dīktu dîkat 27 rabûti iddūk 28 šar Aššur ittalak 29 mît 30 šarrūtu epuš 32 Bel ina Baltil ašibma isinnu akitu ba il 33 Nabû ultu Barsip ul illikū 34 ina kussê ittašab 35 Bel u ilāni ša Akkadî ultu Baltil u unimma 36 ana Bābili īterbūnu 37 Nabî u ilāni ša Barsip ana Bābili ittalkūni 38 abit 39 daiiān abitma dîk

One who studies this scheme for some time will not easily discover a pattern. We would perhaps not expect to find a pattern in text of this kind. After all, a text that is limited to registering reality will be as irrational and random as reality itself. Our quest for parallel and concentric structures would be futile. And if we are to come upon a structure, such as in lines 6–12 we have to regard this the result of coincidence rather than of the intent of the writer. Certain regularities are striking, though. For example, the fact that a number of events is told two, even five times. These repeated events seem to be the themes of the text. Certain regularities, are striking, however. Such as the fact that a number of events is narrated two, or even five times. These events seem to form the themes of the text. Twice: – a selection (l. 6 and l. 12) – a slaughtering (l. 9 and l. 26) – the succession of a king (l. 18 and l. 34, but perhaps we are missing some issues concerning succession at the beginning and at the end).

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Three times: – the death of a king or a queen ( umba aldashu l. 16, queen l. 23, Esarhaddon l. 29) Four times: – the execution of high officials (governor of Nippur and a Dakkurian l. 10 and l. 19, the ‘officers’ l. 27, the judge l. 39) – the marching of an Assyrian army and/or of the king (l. 13, l. 20, l. 25, l. 28) – the displacement of gods (l. 3, l. 21, l. 35, l. 37), with l. 33 being hard to fit in, because it is also announced that Nabû did not leave Borsippa ging. Five times: – the conquest and robbery of a city (Arza l. 6–7, Sidon, l. 12, Bazza l. 13 and Shubria l. 24–25, Kirbittu l. 38). The most significant repetition of a word seems to be the word alāku. We became aware of this motif word because of the exclusive material of this text vis-à-vis the BChr: lines 31–33. These lines are the same as lines 1–4 of the Akitu chronicle word-for-word. Line 34, which speaks of Ashurbanipals rise to the throne, is exclusive material with respect to the Akitu Chronicle (AChr), however. Note that these lines break with the usual pattern of succession. We can tell from lines 16–18 that the logical order of events is as follows: the death of the king, the sum of the number of years of his reign, succession. Lines 31–33 cross this scheme at the death of Esarhaddon. In these lines, the writer reports that Bel was still in Baltil, that the Akitu festival was not held and that Nabu did not leave Borsippa, and continues, after Ashurbanipal’s rise to the throne, to report that the gods entered Babylon during Shamashshuma-ukin’s kingship (!). It is in these lines, that the writer betrays to us his most important interest. When we read back from the final paragraph in the text, especially paying attention to the verb alāku, we notice a pattern: line 15 is the first time that we hear about the army of Assyria setting out (alāku) on a campaign, the success of which is not mentioned. The king of Elam dies, though. In line 20, we hear that the army of Assyria sets out (alāku) again, and that Ishtar and the gods of Elam go (alāku), to Akkad. Apparently, the combination of these two facts is not sufficient, because success is once again not mentioned. The queen dies, though.

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In line 25, the troops set out (alāku) once again. In this case, a slaughtering takes place; we are not informed whether it takes place among the Assyrians or among the Egyptians. In any case the life of the king of Assyria is a apparently threatened because of internal tension during the next year, because he is forced to kill “a lot of his officers”. Finally, the king of Assyria sets out (alāku) himself for the first time, but with fatal consequences: he dies along the way. Conclusion: the setting out of the Assyrian army was not very successful. To the contrary: each campaign has the death of a prominent Assyrian as its consequence.490 It is not until Bel (Marduk) sets out from Assyria instead of the Assyrian army, that success occurs: Kirbittu is taken and arch-rival Egypt is beaten (?). How about the success stories of the first six years of Esarhaddons’ government? It is striking that the role of the Assyrian army is presented as a minimalist role. The army is only mentioned in line 13, without the verb alāku. It seems there is a connection to bi irtu ibte ir. Notice that this bi irtu does not take place in Assyria, but in Akkad. We doubt whether bi irtu ibte ir refers to mobilization at all, based on this interpretation. Although we should guard against circle reasoning, we wonder whether the phrase does not refer to a cultic event: selecting offerings or something to that extent. These preparatory activities must have had a positive effect on the military actions, which were not to be ascribed to Assyria, or as little as possible. It could be that the intention of the text lies in the only real piece of exclusive material, namely in line 34, which commemorates Ashurbanipal’s rise to the throne. The author’s intention may have been that he wanted to portray Ashurbanipal as positively as possible as compared to his father Esarhaddon. During his kingship over Assyria, Bel (Marduk) finally came to Babylon from Baltil (Ashur). We can suppose that this is the reason that the text ended with his victory over Tirhaka and Neco, which is also mentioned in his own inscriptions. Since Tirhaka and Neco are mentioned and since only the succession of Esarhaddon by Ashurbanipal is recounted (l. 34) we may assume the focus of this text is more on Ashurbanipal than on his brother and

490 I also do not believe that Grayson is right when he says: “The chronicle, in the large section which deals with Esarhaddon, displays a definite bias in favour of this kind. Not one single defeat or disgrace of Esarhaddon is mentioned.” Zie ABC, 30.

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Babylonian co-regent Shamash-shuma-ukin. Consequently, perhaps the message of the text is: a foreign king would also do well in supporting Marduk and the Akitu festival.491 Repetitions of themes The themes were connected to the events and the motif words in such a way that we would find no new information by treating the repetition of themes separately once more. See the previous paragraph. Intertextuality The most important intertextuality is the dependence of the same source as the Babylonian Chronicle and the Akitu chronicle. We already saw that the only exclusive material of this text with respect to the BChr betrays the interest of the EChr for Bel and the Akitu festival and the exclusive material with respect to the AChr mostly consists of the mention of Ashurbanipal. In all other cases, the EChr either offers less information or other information than the BChr. This is most obvious in the remarks about Egypt. Apart from the left out invasion by the king of Elam in the sixth year, the defeat against Egypt in the seventh year is left out, as is the campaign to Egypt in the tenth year, which was very successful according to the BChr. Overall, the EChr does not portray Esarhaddon more positively or more negatively. Rather, the intention of the text seems to have been: to show that Esarhaddon, having caused a slaughtering in Egypt, died on the way to that country. It happens to be the case that this situation closely resembles the death of Cambyses and his succession by Darius in 522 B.C. Cambyses acted harshly with respect to the Egyptians and died on his way back to Persia. After a short period of instability, Darius manages to obtain power. Like Ashurbanipal, he also holds a successful campaign to Egypt after three years.492 The relation to the astrological diaries and the intertextual references to Ashurbanipal lead us to come up with the following hypothesis: Marduk’s priests associated Darius’ succession of Cambyses with

491 See chapter 3.9.4 on the matter of intertextuality in the Cyrus Cylinder. In the cylinder, we saw that Ashurbanipal was idealized among the priests of Marduk. Ashurbanipal himself created this situation by showing of his positive attitude with respect to the Marduk cult. 492 See Veenhof, Geschichte, 291–293.

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Ashurbanipal’s succession of Esarhaddon. Just like the astrological diaries tried to find a connection between astronomic and societal phenomena, these priests tried to interpret history based on the attitude towards the Marduk cult and the Akitu festival. Although the literary form is completely different, we seem to find ourselves in the historical and religious proximity of such priests as Ezekiel, who interpreted the history of Israel before the exile based on the temple and the Pesach festival, who felt YHWH would return to Jerusalem like Bel would return to Babylon.493 Metaphors No metaphors were used in the text. This adds to the ‘sober’ impression we get from this text. Structure The structure of the text is very simple. The image of the tet as texture comes to mind with this chronicle. The ‘woof ’ is formed by the rather equally divided ‘threads’ of the various years of the reign of the king. The ‘warp’ is formed by six spools: the themes cult, selection, war, execution, death and succession. The writers (priests?) seem to have ‘woven’ these texts in order to investigate whether they could discern a pattern in the texture that would also be of relevance for their time. Grammatical characteristics First of all, the numerous Sumeric ideograms and loan words are striking. They were probably chosen for economic reasons: an ideogram takes up considerably less space than an Akkadic word that is spelled out in its entirety (MU instead of ša-nu-u ‘year’, or GIG in l. 16 instead of ma-ra- u ‘ill’) Furthermore, the large number of stativi is striking, as we noted before. Apparently, the text does not have a ‘narrative’ goal.

493 Note in the bible book Ezra, Cyrus’ successor (who is mistakenly called Ahasveros in this book) also has a harsh and tactless attitude with respect to the reconstruction of the temple, while Darius is happy to cooperate, orders for archival research and eventually returns the temple treasures. See Ezra 4–6. The Esagila and the Akitu festival seem to have been replaced by the temple of Jerusalem and Pesach in this story!

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Focalization of the king Although the text portrays Esarhaddon’s kingship, he himself hardly appears in the piece. It is not until lines 11 and 12 that he appears in action in order to “put his officers to the sword”, respectively to die himself. He is not glorified nor is he openly criticized. As is the case with the stories of the Old Testament, it appears as if the characters are portrayed in a rather objective manner, as if the writers thought that the reader should judge their deeds himself. At the end of the text, something similar to a criterion is given, however: the question whether the king allowed Bel to go to Babylon and let the Akitu festival take place. Valuation of the war What was said above about the king is, mutatis mutandis, also true for the war. There is not much we can find out other than there were wars at the time of Esarhaddon’s reign, and that robbing, plundering, killing and executing took place during these wars.494 No moral judgment is pronounced about the war in the text.

494 After the appearance of BHT, a short but intense polemic arose between the author and S. Langdon in the Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain. In his discussion of the book, Langdon called Esarhaddon “an arch-enemy of Babylonians, and a character which would naturally attract a compiler of the calamities that befel the Babylonian people in various epochs.” See his “Notices of books: Babylonian Historical Texts. By Sidney Smith”, JRAS 1925, 166. Smith reacts in the same magazine in the same year, by pointing out that Babylon was at peace at the time of Esarhaddon; that renovations were undertaken; that no revolutions took place; and that the gods returned to Babylon at this time. “To describe Esarhaddon as ‘an arch-enemy of Babylonians’ is therefore incorrect, and contrary to the statements to be found in any modern history. Nor would the Babylonian chroniclers consider the foreign wars noted in the Babylonian and Esarhaddon Chronicles ‘disasters’.” S. Smith, “Assyriological notes: Esarhaddon Chronicle, Obv. 5”, JRAS 1925, 295–297, especially p. 297. The interesting part is that both gentlemen are probably right in their own way. Smith is right when it comes to Esarhaddon’s time itself. Esarhaddon did make a bigger effort to implement new, peace-building policies (at least to generate the imago of someone who made a bigger effort) than his father Sennacherib. On the other hand, Langdon is right when we are talking about the time in which Esarhaddon’s Chronicle was written or copied. Since Ashurbanipal had grown into the archetypical “good ruler” from the Babylonian perspective, Esarhaddon automatically looked bad, as compared to his successor.

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Effect of the valuation of the war on the valuation of the king We have found that there is no moral valuation of the war. What seems to matter to the writer is the success of a war. It seems that the king is evaluated based on the criterion whether the Akitu festival takes place or not. Military success and defeat seem related to this criterion in the mind of this writer: a pious king is successful, godlessness leads to defeat. Focalization of the gods Two things are striking about what is told about the gods. There is a great deal of diversity regarding the gods that appear in this short text and not more is told about them than that they move themselves from one city to another: l. 3: l. 21: l. 32: l. 33: l. 35: l. 37:

Anu-rabu and the gods of Der, um umia en Shimalia . . .? (year 1) Ishtar of Akkad and the gods of Akkad leave Elam and go to Akkad (year 7) Bel was in Baltil for twenty years and the Akitu festival was not held. Nabu did not come from Borsippa for Bel’s procession (but here it says: in the year 12 . . .) Bel and the gods of Assyria leave Baltil and go to Babylon. Nabu and the gods of Borsippa go to Babylon.

In any case, the gods do not interfere in the text. They are purely the object of displacement and honouring. It does seem to be clear that the writers are mostly interested in Bel and (less so) in Nabu. Nabu is only interesting insofar as he comes to Babylon for Bel. Relationship between divine and human activity The relationship between divine and human activity is different than in previous texts. The gods do not interfere directly, as we have seen. Nevertheless, it appears that the text was written to show that correct observance of the Marduk cult is a blessing to humanity, in any case to the king. When Bel marches to Babylon (ilāni ittalkū), it has a larger effect on the campaigns than the marching of the Assyrian armies (ummāni ittalkū).

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Theology/ideology of the text The text has a priestly theology.495 It does not betray a positive or negative attitude with respect to the king on beforehand. It is considered most important to respect the cult and let the Akitu festival take place, and a connection is sought between these two events and processes that take place in society. The method followed by the priests, was copied from the astrological diaries that they consulted: two phenomena that take place at the same time, are regarded as causally related.496 This is the method of correspondence. History can repeat itself in their eyes, if the same political-religious ‘constellation’ occurs.497 The vision on the truth behind this is different than in astrology. After all: the events are not regarded as inevitable omens. Instead, they are used to inform kings of their responsibilities.498 We seem to be close to 495 Glassner, Chroniques mésopotamiennes, 54–56, shows that the writers of the chronicles, insofar as their profession is known, almost all have a priestly background. Brinkman, “The Babylonian Chronicle Revisited”, 75 footnote 13, on the other hand, states: “There is also no apparent connection between these scribes and temple institutions.” It is not clear to us what his statement is based on. He seems to regard the writers as comparable to modern intellectuals, independent of politics and religion. On the same page, he notes: “It should not be surprising if historians under royal patronage produced chronicles which could healthily be recited at court and if private scribes were able to indulge in the luxury of frankness. These would not be the only instances in which objectivity was conditioned by an author’s Sitz im Leben as well as by national traditions of historiography.” This image of a writer seems highly modern to us—if only for the reason that the way to master the complicated cuneiform script was through a long period of education at the court or in the temple—but we agree with his view that the chronicles seemed to serve a scientific rather than a propagandistic cause. 496 Compare to. Glassner, Chroniques mésopotamiennes, 26, on the goal of historiography in Mesopotamia: “Dans un monde qui n’admet que difficilement la nouveauté, en quête d’exemples ou de précédents, on interpelle le passé pour expliquer le présent.” 497 Grayson points out that the period between Sennacherib’s destruction of Babylon and the rise of the Neo-Babylonian empire was a dark period for the Babylonians. Therefore, he thinks, the authors of AChr and EChr, who both take this period as the subject of their texts, try to place their country in a positive daylight: “It appears that the author has chosen to re-write a disgraceful period of Babylonian history in a light more favourable to his native land and thus the information found in this text must be regarded with scepticism by the historian.” See ABC, 31. We are not of the opinion that a writer, writing 150 years later, would benefit much from rewriting history in such a manner. We are more inclined tot think that the writers, as are the biblical writers in exile, were looking for an explanation both for the dark period and the sudden prosperity hereafter. 498 Compare to Glassner, Chroniques mésopotamiennes, 27: “Le rapport entre le passé, le présent ou l’avenir est fondé non point sur la stricte répétition mais sur la similitude. Bref, l’étude du passé se situe sous le signe de l’analogie.” He gives a number of examples of such analogies on pages 105–108. For example, in one of the chronicles, a connection is drawn between the besiegement of Babylon by a king and the succes-

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the biblical vision of human responsibility. The text presents the king with the Deuteronomic choice, as it were, between curse and blessing, death and life, and implicitly with the message ‘choose life’. Given the existence of the Akitu chronicle, it must have been a common use of history in these circles at this time. 3.11. Summary and conclusions 3.11.1. The level of the event Classification of the events We have tried to represent all the events mentioned before in the schedule below. By marking the similarities between the texts, it is possible to uncover a sort of DNA structure for each genre. We think we can perceive five different DNA structures. The vassal (Mesha, Kulamuwa and Zakkur) In the vassal texts, the vassal presents himself, preferably by showing the contrast between himself and his predecessors. While the country was doing badly under the reign of their predecessors, everything took a turn for the better under these three kings. The kings identified foreign oppression as the cause of the earlier disaster. According to these kings, we have the god to thank for the fact that everything is going well now. This makes the tone of the text rather religious: the god intervenes or speaks through oracles or through prophets. The great king (Sennacherib, Ashurbanipal, Esarhaddon) De great king is not suffering from aggression from outsiders; instead, he is bothered by insubordination by his vassals. His power is not threatened; at the very most, he is provoked. For this reason, the tone of the text is not so much religious, not even in the parts where the great king acknowledges moments of divine intervention. These moments are mostly turns for the good that he had little or no influence on (the direction of the wind changes, the hostile king dies a natural death). The great king likes telling us how he takes and plunders cities, and which

sive murder of his son. This happened both to Tukulti-Ninurta I and Sennacherib. It is, as if the chroniqueur wants to warn king Xerxes that he is taking a great risk with his besiegement of Babylon.

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other punitive measures he takes. In his ‘Report to Ashur’, Esarhaddon furthermore reports a number of elements (the enemy’s remorse, negotiations) that relate to the genre and the situation of justifying of a war against a sister nation. The prophet (prophecies to Esarhaddon) The prophet does not speak on account of the king, but he speaks to the king on behalf of the god. He or she therefore recalls well-known public events that relate to the king: his birth, his ascendance, and his victories. The main theme in these accounts is the divine election of the king: a victory, a suppressed internal rebellion, an eventual rise to the throne in the eyes of the prophet—these are all signs that the god favours the king. The prophet confirms this election on behalf of the deity by promising support for the king personally or for the dynasty. The prophet and the deity do like to receive something in return: contributions to the cult, for example. The priest (Nabonidus, Cyrus) The priest is close to the prophet in terms of social background and ideology. He wrote the Verse Account and the Cyrus Cylinder. The priest measures the king against the norms of cultic orthodox religion and attitude with respect to the population. We find a spectrum of events in the category ‘cultic crimes’, such as making a blasphemic image or neglecting the Akitu festival. ‘Crimes against the population’ encompass such offences as neglecting public safety and meaningless murder of an entire city. The chroniqueur (Esarhaddon chronicle) The chroniqueur is interested in a highly limited number of events, which he places in an overview similar to the overview we have created of the various texts. We suppose that he was also looking for some sort of a ‘DNA structure’, namely the structure of history: in what political and religious ‘constellation’ can we expect another war or the death of a king? The interest behind this distant approach of history may be typified as ‘scientific’.

2

?

Report

1

1

1

1

1

Ashurbanipal

Nabonidus

6

2

Cyrus

3

4

Chronicle

501

The number in this column refers to the number of lines that is devoted to this event. The number in this column refers to the number of times that this type of event is mentioned. 502 Seeing as that no stories are told in the genres of the prophecies and in the chronicle, we cannot speak of the phases of the story. We have decided to include these genres in this overview for the purpose of comparing various text genres.

500

i. death of the king/ queen

h. ascendance to the throne

5

1

1

g. election of the king

2

2

4

d. summary of the story

3

1

f. birth of the king

1

c. deeds of previous kings

1

3

Prophecies502

2

1

b. occasion of the text

1

Sennacherib501

e. complaint as occasion for writing

1

a. self presentation

Exposition phase

Mesha500 Kulamuwa Zakkur

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6 24 7

j. false claims to wisdom

k. misdeeds against the population

l. unfair war claims

37

Nabonidus

19

1

1

2

4

17

Ashurbanipal

i. criminal construction activities

h. cultic (mis)deeds

11

g. negotiation

14

Report

25

1

4

Prophecies

f. remorse of the enemy

e. (internal) rebellion

4

6

d. oracle

2

1

1

1

7

Sennacherib

c. call for an oracle

2

Kulamuwa Zakkur

8

4

Mesha

b. insubordination

a. aggression from the outside

Complication phase

Table (cont.)

1

4

Cyrus

5

Chronicle

634 chapter three

7 6

h. plundering

i. another direction

9

14

g. conquest/surrender cities

b. construction activities

a. increase wealth

Dénouement

l. selection

k. negotiation

j. conquest

12

4

1

14

f. flight of the enemy

5

3?

3?

2

2

2

e. new territory

d. support by third parties

12

3

b. divine intervention

c. divine support

6

a. battle

Climax

4 14

6

16

3

14

1

16

4

5

12

11

4

3

17

2

1

15

8

5

7

2

5

5

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3 1

h. punishment

i. erecting a stela

m. execution of high officials

l. taking prisoners

k. return of law and order

j. dividing the loot

2

3

5

g. reduction of the land

4

e. deportation

3

1

Sennacherib

6

1

d. annexation/ change of government

Kulamuwa Zakkur

f. taxes

5

Mesha

c. religious measures

Table (cont.) Prophecies

19

5

1

17

1

Report

8

5

11

9

7

6

5

Ashurbanipal

4

13

Nabonidus 8

Cyrus

5

1

3

2

Chronicle

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17

h. other remarks

j. prayer for son/ successor

i. destruction of the name of the predecessor

2

3

f. divine protection

g. colophon

1

e. Recognition formula

1

1

4

2

13

d. Handing-over formula

3

1

?

c. promise of dynasty

b. blessing

a. curse

Conclusion/sanction

1

8 4

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The event: improvement or turn for the worse? While the question whether the events entailed an improvement or rather a turn for the worse as compared to the original situation was always a complex one with the texts of the Old Testament, we can conclude that the extrabiblical texts almost uniformly denote an improvement. Only the Esarhaddon Chronicle did not necessarily contain an improvement or a turn for the worse. With the prophecies, the question can also not be answered as such, since they relate to the future and call upon the king to trust the god or to respect the cult. In the other eight cases, the situation takes a turn for the better. With the three vassals, this improvement is the most spectacular. A situation of ‘oppression’ changes to one of ‘deliverance’ (Mesha), a ‘dog’s life’ transforms to being dressed in ‘byssus’ (Kulamuwa). The great king will only acknowledge success and therefore his defeats are of a passing nature. With the two priestly texts, we saw a massive u-turn similar to the one with the three vassals. In that respect, we can see connections with these texts (the great u-turn in history) and with the prophecies (the u-turn is not meant to glorify the king but to create trust in the divinity). The actors In the stories from the books of Kings we generally came across two narrative programs: one by the king and one by YHWH. In the Ancient Near Eastern texts, we generally have only one narrative program:

text

destinateur

subject

quest

Mesha

Kemosh

Kilamuwa Zakkur

gods (?) Ba lshamayin

Kemosh Mesha Kilamuwa Ba lshamayin Zakkur

Sennacherib Prophecies Report Nabonidus Ashurbanipal Cyrus Chronicle

Ashur – Ashur ? gods Marduk –

deliverance reconstruction peace/welfare kingship Hazrach continuation of name unrivalled kingship – truth and justice ‘mixed up rites’ kingship saving Babylon –

Sennacherib – Esarhaddon Nabonidus Shamash-shuma-ukin Marduk –

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The logic behind all of this seems to be: waging war is the task of the god (Mesha, Zakkur, Cyrus), construction is the task of the king (Mesha and Zakkur), as is the maintenance of the temples and the rites (Nabonidus, Cyrus, also see the prophecies). Whenever history takes an unexpected turn (Mesha, Zakkur, Cyrus), the writer tends to place the deity in the position of the subject. The deity wages battle for the king. Whenever no such turn takes place, the king is the one who wages war, with support and legitimation from the divinity, for example in the case of the great king, (Sennacherib, Ashurbanipal, Esarhaddon’s Report to Ashur). One could also interpret the narrative program differently: in any case where the legitimacy of a (new) king is disputed, the role of the deity seems to be emphasized more (Mesha, Zakkur, Cyrus); in the cases where the legitimacy of the war is at stake, the king will assume more of his responsibilities. A similarity between these stories and the stories of the Old Testament is that the divinity takes up the position of a destinateur in each of these stories; a difference is that a hostile king never takes up the actantial position of subject. Indications of time The only text that has many exact indications of time is the Esarhaddon Chronicle. It is not so strange that a historiographic or a chronographic interest has been attributed to the author of this text. In all other texts, we find very little or very general indications of time such as: “in my days”, “before the former kings”, “thirty years”. Even in Sennacherib’s annals we find only one exact date, in the colophon, even though the genre indication ‘annal’ would suggest differently. A temporal separation has been applied to the text in the form of campaigns, but we do not find out when these took place and how long they lasted. With Ashurbanipal even the numbering of the campaigns turned out to be ‘fluid’. The explanation for this phenomenon will be different for each genre. The construction inscriptions probably offered some sort of a retrospective on the entire reign period. In a negative sense, this is also true for the Verse Account. An epic convention was probably the origin of the disinterest in indications of time in the annals. Either way, it may be called remarkable that we did not encounter a true historic interest in any of the texts (apart from the Chronicle).

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Indications of place The number of indications of places varies a lot. In the Kulamuwa Inscription, we did not come across any indication of place; the inscriptions of Zakkur and Nabonidus revolve around one city (respectively Hazrach and Babylon), but in the Mesha Inscription and Sennacherib’s annals, place names abound. We have not been able to attach much meaning to this variation across the texts, apart from noting that it is logical that the report of a besiegement would revolve around just one city, while there are many displacements in a campaign. 3.11.2. The level of the event Interventions in the order of time In the stories of the books of Kings, we saw anticipations and flashbacks. These served the literary goal of building tension; and in this way, these techniques served the theological goal of strengthening the trust that YHWY will determine the ending. In this respect, too, the Ancient Near Eastern texts we studied differ from the biblical ones. With the three vassals, we saw that they tend to summarize the entire period of their government as some sort of title. One can call this an anticipation from a literary perspective. The extra-literary explanation is that we probably have to do with a construction or a dedicatory inscription: one is dedicating a construction to one’s god out of gratitude and the first lines summarize the things one is grateful for. The intraliterary effect is, on the other hand, the special relationship between the god and the king that is postulated (by Mesha and Zakkur), or the spotlight that is shone on the special deeds of the king (Kulamuwa). With Mesha and Kulamuwa this anticipation is followed by a flashback in which the deeds of predecessors are depicted negatively. In this way, a claire-obscure in Rembrandt-style is created and the light that falls on these kings is even brighter. Another intervention that we observed with Mesha and Zakkur: in their inscriptions, acts of war were mentioned first and construction activities were mentioned later. From an extra-literary perspective, one can detect the existence of a convention here. From an intra-literary perspective, the theological message is that waging war is something the deity does for the benefit of the king that he has chosen, after which it is the task of the king to rebuild the land for him out of gratitude to him.

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The great king (Sennacherib, Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal) generally employ little interventions in the chronology. We only came across flashbacks in their texts occasionally, which seemed to have the function of filling in the information gaps. This has the effect that the texts have a very one-dimensional perspective. Ashurbanipal was most advanced on the matter of the chronology: we even came across fork constructions in his text. No interventions take place in the prophecies to Esarhaddon. At the most, one could regard the prophecy itself as a flashback and an anticipation in the missing story that might have formed the context to this prophecy (“A prophet came to the king, and said . . .”). In that case the function of this way of dealing with time is somewhat comparable to the biblical war stories: based on the deity’s support for the king in the past, the king is called upon to maintain his faith in the future. On the matter of the two priestly texts: our first impression from the Verse Account is that it was told in a chronological order, but if compared to historical data from other sources, one has to conclude that the use of time is very strange. In this retrospective text, the order and the tempo of the events have changed radically. This ‘telescopevision’ offers the possibility to the writer to manipulate reality, in the sense that two phenomena can be presented as if they are cause and effect, which in reality do not have any temporal or causal relationship to each other. The rise of Cyrus in this case would take place directly after the atrocities committed by Nabonidus in Tema, while in reality ten years passed between these two events. A stronger dose of the same procedure was used in the Cyrus Cylinder. A likely order of events is as follows: 1. Cyrus’ rise, 2. cultic reforms by Nabonidus as a reaction to this 3. anger by the priests of Marduk on this matter. But this order was manipulated with this method to be 2. cultic reforms by Nabonidus, 3. anger of Marduk himself (!), 1. rise of Cyrus as a punishment by Marduk. The chroniqueur maintains a strictly chronological order. There is only one exception: by the end of Esarhaddon’s reign, he discusses a number of cultic constant factors of the governments of Sennacherib and Esarhaddon in the form of some sort of summary. The summary seems to be a conclusion, a pattern that the chroniqueur has discovered in the inconsistencies of destiny.

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Tempo The question that we asked about the tempo of the texts has yielded little results. Most stories were told in a rather one-dimensional manner: little scenes, little variation of tempo, and little use of perspective. The summary was the tempo that was used most in almost all texts. The prophecies form the exception to this rule, because there is no story involved. Mesha and Zakkur hardly ever have a speaking character in their texts, but in both texts, whenever a character speaks it happens that their god has a message for them exactly at those moments. Kulamuwa does not make use of the tempo ‘scene’ at all. Sennacherib also does not make use of scenes in his annals—another indication that the text indeed has a strong one-dimensional perspective. This stands in stark contrast to Ashur’s report to Esarhaddon. All of a sudden, a third of the text has been devoted to dialogues. This is one of the reasons that the text is praised for its literary qualities. The explanation for this can be found in the apologetic nature of the text. Esarhaddon has to make the king of Shubria into a speaking character so that he can reply to him afterwards. In a very simplified version, the text has a rhetoric structure: “This one may say that he will surrender, but he says it too late, because he had already been given two chances.” The text of Ashurbanipal is in between these texts in terms of the changes in tempo. Here, too, we have little scenes, but we have some slow-downs for the purpose of giving extra information. In the two priestly texts we saw something similar happening. In the Verse Account only the tempo ‘summary’ occurs; in the Cyrus Cylinder, Nabonidus is quoted three times to prove which absurd pretences this king had. The Chronicle uses the shortest form of summary possible, i.e. it has many stativi: “the city captured”. Representational time per event In the stories from the books of Kings, we discovered that the most amount of representational time was devoted to the complication phase. In this phase, counsel took place, as well as negotiations and prophetic appearances. This phase took up approximately half the story. The climax and the dénouement were relatively short by contrast. The extrabiblical texts give us a different impression. With the three vassals, we see a comparable picture, although Zakkur’s inscription is slightly deviatory. This latter text resembles the stories from the books of Kings to some extent because of the acts of the prophets.

war in a number of extrabiblical texts

exposition phase a. self presentation b. divine election c. occasion of text d. previous kings e. summary of the story

Mesha 7 1 – 1 1 4

643

Kulamuwa 4.5 1 – – 2.5 1

Zakkur 3 1.5 0.5 1 – –

complication phase a. aggression from the outside b. call for an oracle c. oracle

4.5 2.5 – 2

1 1 – –

14 7 1 6 (?)

climax a. battle b. divine intervention c. support by third parties

6 4 2 –

2.5 1.5 – 1

3 (?) 0–3 (?) 0–3 (?) –

17.5 – 11 4 0.5 2

5 5 – – – –

12 – 9 – 3 –

? ? ?

3 3 –

15 13 2

denouement a. increase welfare b. construction activities c. religious measures d. annexation e. deportation conclusion/sanction a. curse b. blessing

The complication phase never takes up the largest amount of representational time. Zakkur’s inscription allots the most amount of space to this phase but even in this case, the dénouement—and notably the conclusion—is approximately of the same length. The dénouement is an important phase in all three texts. It is the result that matters. In the annals of Sennacherib and Ashurbanipal and in the Report of Esarhaddon to Ashur this is also the case, even more so. We have compared the representational time in the following schedule, comparing the third campaign of Sennacherib, the report by Esarhaddon and the sixth campaign of Ashurbanipal.

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complication insubordination remorse negotiation oracle internal rebellion cultic crimes

Sennacherib 13 13 – – – – –

Esarhaddon 49 14 24 11 – – –

Ashurbanipal 72 19.5 13 – 9.5 22.5 7.5

climax battle divine support divine intervention support by third parties besiegement famine capitulation enemy negotiation flight conquest of cities

36 12 3 – – – – – – 5 16

44 7 – 3 – – – 16 14 – 4

47 3 – 9 9 5 7 – – 14 –

dénouement plundering taxes change of government religious measures deportation reducing land punishment dividing the loot construction activities

53 4 29 8 – 4 4 4 – –

48 5 – 1 – 17 1 5 9 10

55 – 2 14 17 – 20 2

The complication phase is very short with Sennacherib; it was much longer with Esarhaddon and longest with Ashurbanipal. The only complication with Sennacherib is the insubordination of his vassals. With Esarhaddon, the remorse of the hostile king is another factor that complicates things. In this unique element we can probably find the occasion for writing this text. With Ashurbanipal, too, the subject of the fight between brothers seems to have a lot of weight, so that

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many words are devoted to this matter. The climax receives a relatively great deal of attention with the great kings, but not as much as the dénouement. Within the phase of dénouement, the amount of attention that Sennacherib gives to taxes is striking. With Esarhaddon, the most important element is deportation. Ashurbanipal, on the contrary, avoids the impression that he was fighting with the goal of economic gain: rather, he meant to bring administrative and religious order. The two priestly texts are of an entirely different nature.

exposition phase a. self presentation b. election of the king

Nabonidus – – –

complication phase a. cultic (mis)deeds b. criminal construction activities c. false claim to wisdom d. crimes against the population e. unfair war claims

99 37 19 6 24 7

5 4 – – 1 –

climax a. battle

15 15

7 7

dénouement a. increase in welfare b. increase in welfare c. religious measures d. return of law and order

17 – – 13 4

21 5 8 8 –

8 8 –

4 – 4

conclusion/sanction a. destruction of name predecessor b. prayer for son/successor

Cyrus 8 2 6

We can see here that the writers are not very interested in the battle itself. In the Verse Account most time is devoted to the complication phase; in the Cyrus Cylinder, it is the dénouement that has this position. The explanation for all of this is that the aim of the first text is

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mainly to reflect on Nabonidus’ crimes, whereas the motivation behind the Cyrus Cylinder is to praise Cyrus. In both texts, it is striking that especially the cultic and religious topics receive a lot of attention. It is interesting to relate this finding to the last text of the Esarhaddon’s Chronicle. The writer of this text, the chroniqueur, probably comes from the same environment as the priests that wrote the previous two texts. We believe we can explain this from the interest these two types of writers have in the cult. The chroniqueur does not tell a story so we cannot divide his text into phases, but his themes are the following: Chronicle Nabonidus Cyrus a. cult: 10 55 7 b. selection: 1.5 – – c. war: 13.5 22 13 d. execution: 6 – – e. death: 3 – – f. succession: 6 – – g. population – 27 6 h. construction – 22 8 Focalizations Me- Kila- Zak- Senna- Prophe- Rep- Assur- Nabo- Cyrus Chronsha503 muwa kur cherib cies ort banipal nidus504 icle external focalizator internal focalizators king deity enemy subordinates/ population sons of the king

503

30 3 1

11

37 9

88 7

2

107 6 27 1

167 5 5

21

15

5 1

25 4

4

1.5

3

The number in this table refers to the number of lines in which the perspective of a certain focalizator is dominant. 504 The number in this column refers to the number of strophes and not to the number of lines. Seeing as that this is about the relationship between the characters, the counting method is not very important in our view. The largest number of strophes, by far, consists of four lines, although there are also half-strophes with two lines and strophes with five lines.

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The differences with and similarities to the stories from the books of Kings are immediately apparent in the above overview: a. The number of focalizators there varies between four and ten, in the Ancient Near Eastern stories the maximum number is four. b. In the stories from the books of Kings the focalization by the king took up about 10 to 15% of the text, in the Ancient Near Eastern texts, the king “has the floor” between 65% (Kulamuwa) and 92% (Sennacherib) of the time in the royal inscriptions. The last three texts make up their own category, with percentages varying between 0 (Chronicle) and 55% (Cyrus Cylinder). c. We can see also find a similarity with the biblical stories in the fact that an external focalizator is speaking most of the time in these last three texts. In the inscriptions of the kings, the kings speak about themselves in the first person singular and therefore, there is no external focalizator—this is an obvious difference, but an important one. d. There was no figure comparable to a prophet in all of these stories. Effects of the focalizations The effects of the focalizations in the texts of the books of Kings were: prophetic perspective, criticism of the king, irony, increase in tension and multiple perspectives. The effects of the focalizations in the Ancient Near Eastern texts turn out to be very different. Here, too, we can observe the differences between the various genres. The texts of the three vassals and the two great kings turned out to largely have the same effect: legitimation and propaganda. The effect of the first person narrative seems to have been ‘omnipotence’ and ‘control’. The person behind the first person, the king, has everything under control. The gods, when they speak, give an order to go to war or they legitimize it. Opponents remain flat characters. They only have a limited number of emotions, such as awe for the king. Divine messengers only speak up in Zakkur’s inscription, but all they do is give voice to the support of the god to the king. The only exception to the above rule is Esarhaddon’s Report to Ashur. In this story, the king of Shubria speaks elaborately. The way in which he does, however, is rather stereotypical. He calls himself a “thief ” and Esarhaddon “a trustworthy shepherd”. This seems comparable to the biblical stories. One can have sympathy for this king in a similar way

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to they way in which one has sympathy for Ben-Hadad in 1 Kings 20. Still, even here, the goal of the text is apologetic and thereby legitimizing: Esarhaddon wants to justify why he had to beat this king and kill him: this king was too late and the period of appeal had passed. The text has a completely different function than the text of Ben-Hadad in 1 Kings 20, in which the role of King Ahab is criticized. The focalizations in the two priestly texts were very critical. This is the aspect in which these two texts are most similar to the stories from the books of Kings. It these texts, we also came across the use of the technique of the external focalizator. As in the biblical stories, these texts make use of irony and sarcasm. The types of criteria that these texts convey are also similar to the norms employed by the writers of the Bible, i.e. the attitude of the king with respect to the cult and the population. A difference between this text and the biblical texts is that the writers of the Verse Account and the Cyrus Cylinder let the external focalizator speak much more explicitly. This external focalizator notes that Marduk is angry with Nabonidus. The Bible writers generally have a prophet express a judgement like that. Despite their critical content, we still call these texts ‘legitimizing’, because they were written at the time of King Cyrus. Criticism of Nabonidus serves as glorification of Cyrus, in other words: pleasing Cyrus with the goal of manipulating him in the direction the priests want to direct him in. The Chronicle of Esarhaddon was of an entirely different nature. This text had only one focalizator, the external one. The effect is that the text comes across as objective. 3.11.3. The level of the text Repetition of sounds and play with sounds While the literary qualities of the Ancient Near Eastern texts were rather limited at the level of the story (little use of focalizations, little building of tension, little interventions in the order and tempo), the writers seem to have paid more attention to the level of the text. In almost all texts, we came across many repetitions of sounds and play with sounds such as rhyme, alliterations and assonance.

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This practice was even so abundantly present in some texts that the texts acquired poetic qualities. Esarhaddon’s prophecies form the clearest example of this. Even a very formulaic and boring text such as the Chronicle of Esarhaddon has repetitions of sounds and words. These texts are called ‘Kunstprosa’ or “Wortornamentik”; like the art of the rhetorician, which evokes associations with propagandistic literature in dictatorial countries with modern readers. The exalted language seems to have the goal of elevating even the war into something beautiful. An example is Sennacherib’s phrase “alme akšud ašlula” (“I besieged, I captured and I plundered”) as some sort of a veni, vidi, vici. Or the openly poetic sentences in the prophecies: “What wind has risen against you, whose wings I have not broken? What words have I spoken to you, you could not rely upon?” The only exception to this rule is the Report to Ashur. In this text many focalizations were used. A text like that is more easily valued for its literary qualities by modern readers, as we have seen. Motif words, repetition of words and play with words It is perhaps not surprising that the Ancient Near Eastern texts derive their structure from motif words to a large extent, as do the texts from the books of Kings. We have this principle to thank for the phenomenon that we find the ideology of a text reflected in the choice of words. For instance, in the texts of the three vassals, we frequently came across the motif word ‘king’, ‘to become king’ and ‘to make king’. This conveys the interest these kings had in emphasizing their legitimacy and their election by their god. The word ‘day’ (time) occurred on several occasions, because the contrast between ‘before’ and ‘in my days’ was recalled throughout these three texts. The great kings Sennacherib, Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal also speak of their ‘kingship’ and ‘lordship’. The problem to them is not the legitimacy of their rule, but the non-recognition they receive from vassals and enemies. In these texts, we find such words as ‘(not) bowing’ ‘submitting’, ‘fear’, ‘sin’. In the prophecies for Esarhaddon, the word ‘I’ comes to the foreground prominently. In these texts, ‘I’ does not mean the king but the god Ishtar of Arbela. She wishes to receive recognition for what she has ‘given’: ‘long days and everlasting years’, protection against ‘enemies, foes and haters’.

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The two priestly texts elaborate on the theme the ‘deeds’ or rather ‘misdeeds’ of Nabonidus. His construction activities, which related to ‘unholy things’ or the displacement of gods and abandonment of cultic centres. This has the enmity and anger of Marduk as a consequence. With the chroniqueur we found a very particular use of motif words. It seemed as if the motif words were meant to uncover the laws of history. It is not the ‘going’ of the Assyrian armies, but the ‘going’ of the gods from their sanctuaries for the Akitu festival that turned out to have an effect on the success of the Assyrian armies. Repetition of themes One is much less likely to find repetition of themes in short texts. Nonetheless, one could definitely identify a theme in the texts of Mesha and Zakkur, namely the thought that it is the god who wages war for the king and grants victory, after which it is the task of the king to build. In Sennacherib’s annals, a remarkably longer text, we came across several themes. Here, too, we come across the thought that it is Ashur who encourages the king to fight; the theme that this fight is necessary when vassals no longer bow for the yoke of Ashur; and the thought that it is “terrifying splendour of my lordship” that creates such great fear with the enemy that it takes away his desire for war. In the prophecy, we found back well-known formulas from the books of Kings such as the handing-over formula, the encouragement formula “Fear not”, as a reference to earlier beneficial deeds by the goddess. Esarhaddon’s report to Ashur was about the permanency of the word of Ashur. “Truth and justice” also mean pedagogic consistency according to Esarhaddon: a judge cannot keep giving last chances; neither can Ashur; and therefore neither can the king of Assyria. In the two priestly texts, the focus was on the ‘fear of Marduk’ of king Nabonidus, to the extent that it was expressed in crimes against the population and cultic heterodoxy. The handing-over formula appeared in this text in the context of Marduk handing over his own king Nabonidus to Cyrus, because he had rejected Nabonidus. In the Chronicle, the writing style was concise to such an extent that the themes coincided with the motif words. Intertextuality In the stories from the books of Kings, we referred to other texts within the Deuteronomistic history, to other Bible books such as the prophecies of Micaiah and Isaiah, as well as to Assyrian texts.

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The extrabiblical texts we analyzed are not a part of a larger oeuvre such as the Deuteronomistic history (although the series of Chronicles of which the Esarhaddon-Chronicle was a part could be a partial reference). Nonetheless, we did come across the intertextual procedure in the sense that certain interpretations are evoked by referring to other texts.505 Mesha already made use of a “Phraseologie” that seems “international und interreligiös”.506 Kulamuwa and Zakkur also gave their texts characteristics of the genre and concepts that we found elsewhere (such as calling oneself “humble or “pious”). The content of the oracle to Zakkur consisted almost entirely of turns of phrases that we also know from the Bible. Evoking the meaning of these references is mostly a manner to emphasize that which the god had done for this king and thereby for the king’s legitimacy. With Sennacherib, however, we found a feature that stems mostly from the epic literature: the king has to prove himself in his first year. It is therefore clear that there is an important difference in emphasis with the texts of the three vassals, in which the kings have the god to thank for their election and the legitimacy of their reign, while Sennacherib wants to prove himself as a hero. There were also traces of references to mythological literature from Mesopotamia such as the Enuma Eliš. The king’s battle was lifted to a more mythical and timeless level. The god and the king are at closer levels to each other than with the three vassals. The prophecies to Esarhaddon also turned out to form their own category in this field. Although the text addressed the king and is very friendly towards the king we cannot speak of an royal ideology. No references to royal inscriptions or mythical literature are made; the text has a very own language of imagery and a very own theme. These references did exist in Esarhaddon’s report to Ashur. Although the genre seems to stand on its own, we found that the metaphors and terminology that was used contained similarities to the annals. Furthermore, king Shubria’s plea had many of the genre characteristics of a er.ša. un.ga, a prayer that boils down to a confession of guilt.

505 We have to note once again that we are frequently not capable of proving who is referring to whom. 506 Müller, “König Mêša ”, 379.

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With Ashurbanipal, we could not find clear intertextual references. The fact that he repetitively mentions Erra in his inscription, as well as a number of superficial similarities made us think that he may have used the ideology of this epos as background to his campaign against his fellow people of Babylon. Just like Erra operated in a destructive, as well as a cleansing way, the wars against Babylon should also be seen as a chance to start over. The Verse Account and the Cyrus Cylinder stem from a time and an environment in which one loved to refer to other texts. The Verse Account probably contained references to writings by Nabonidus himself, in which he claims certain deeds and certain wisdom. These references are reinterpreted in a sarcastic manner by the writers of the poem by means of play with words. We have seen that Nabonidus supposedly took possession of the imperial title of Ashurbanipal by the end of his reign. Ashurbanipal is also Cyrus’ model in the Cylinder text. The similarity here is not so much the imperial aspirations of both kings as the fact that Ashurbanipal continued to exist in the collective memory of the Babylonians as the foreign king who had taken the city to do great things for the city afterwards. This was also the image that Cyrus wanted to depict of himself, or—more likely—that the priests of Marduk would like to hold up as an example for Cyrus. It is not surprising that the Marduk priests fill the texts with references to myths such as Atrahasis and Enuma Elish. Nabonidus is some sort of a Tiamat in their view, a chaos-monster. Cyrus brings back order, like Marduk had done once before. In the Chronicle, characters were dependent on astronomic diaries and on other chronicles such as the Akitu-chronicle. This kind of dependence can be compared more easily to a scientific reference then to a literary intertextual reference: the writer found the facts he needed in these sources so he could design a certain hypothesis. Metaphors The use of metaphors in the texts we researched follows a rather unpredictable pattern. Metaphors are lacking completely in three texts: in the inscriptions of Mesha and Zakkur and in the chronicle of Esarhaddon. In four texts, we found a relatively limited use of metaphors. The metaphors used, “to pull a yoke” and “trustworthe shepherd”, were stereotypical or petrified to such an extent that little meaning should

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be given to the fact that they were used. These three texts were: the report to Ashur, the Verse Account and the Cyrus Cylinder. We found that many metaphors were used in three other texts. In Sennacherib’s annals, the metaphors may have been the most important stylistic device that was used. The metaphors that are used mostly stem from the world of images of hunting and of meteorology. Sennacherib himself is a “a wise shepherd”, “who strikes with the thunderbolt”, “a wild ox” etc. His enemies are mostly birds that are “shut up as in a cage” or that “flee to inaccessible places”. The metaphors have the function of emphasizing Sennacherib’s supremacy, the “shock and awe” generated by his arrival. In Kulamuwa’s inscription and in the prophecies to Esaraddon we find completely different metaphors. These two texts show many similarities in that respect that the metaphors are based on the family circle. Kulamuwa wants to be “as a father”, “as a mother” or “as a brother” to his subjects. To his enemies, however, he is “as a fire”. Kulamuwa apparently wanted to appear as a Sicilian godfather: protective for those close to him but stone-hard for his enemies. Similar metaphors could be found in the prophecies. In these texts, Ishtar of Arbela presents herself as “midwife” and “nurse” of the king on the one hand and as queen of the heavens on the other hand, as “Lady” who “watches from a chamber of gold in the middle of heaven” over the king. Again, the metaphors indicate a combination of care and power. 3.11.4. The theology/ideology of the Ancient Near Eastern war stories The king The way in which the king is focalized or in which he focalizes himself is perhaps the most pointed reflection of the ideology of the text. We can see, for instance, that the three vassals are mainly occupied with their legitimacy. Mesha bases his legitimacy on his royal descent and on his military success, for which he thanks Kemosh. Kemosh was angry during the reign of Mesha’s father, but he is not angry anymore. We saw the same line of reasoning in the inscription of Kulamuwa. Kulamuwa also stems from an old and very respectable family, but he is doing much better in comparison to his passive ancestors. He brings prosperity to his land. Zakkur, a usurpator, cannot claim to be a heir

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to a dynasty but he explicitly lets messengers of his god Ba lshamayin express his legitimacy. In the three texts of the great kings, there is no discussion about the legitimacy of the king, which is beyond doubt. Sennacherib and Esarhaddon are “the great king, the mighty king, the king of the world, favourite of the gods”. They guard the divine order and act when it is endangered. For this reason, emphasis lies mostly on the military side of things with Sennacherib and more on “international law” with Esarhaddon. In the prophecies, the king is presented as a child of the god. This sounds flattering, but at the deepest level, the goal of all of this is to appoint the god as guardian (a wet nurse) of the king. This enables the prophet to take up a parental role vis-à-vis the king. In the two priestly texts, two kings appeared as extra’s: Nabonidus and Cyrus. Thanks to these two figures, a claire-obscure painting of the two kings can be made in each text. In this painting, it becomes abundantly clear that it is not that important that a king wages war and builds, but it is important how he wages war and what he builds. These texts emphasize that the king should protect his population and should behave in an orthodox manner when he builds temples. Nabonidus fails the test, supposedly because the priests intend to incite Cyrus to pass the test. The chronicle does not have an openly articulated vision of the king. Implicitly, the text seems to want to imply that it is wise for a king to let the Akitu festival take place, but the role of the king in this text is really marginal. In short, we can point out a common Ancient Near Eastern constant in all texts. This is the thought that the king is the vicarius deorum. The king is king by the grace of his god. His task has a foreign and an internal politics component. The foreign politics component can entail the protection of his people or guarding international law. The home politics component can encompass construction activities as well as the advancement of prosperity. The thought “A is king because of god B and it is therefore his task to bring peace and prosperity” can therefore mean different things. The one king may boast that he brought peace and prosperity and that this is proof that he is king thanks to his god. The other king knows that he is legitimately king and uses his legiti-

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macy to justify certain acts of war that he carried out. In a third type of text, divine mercy becomes an argument in hands of the prophets to direct their king in a certain direction. In a fourth type of text this ideology is used by others, priests, to condemn Nabonidus for sending his people into war and disaster. Lastly, in the chronicle, the king does not play a very large role anymore at all. Valuation of the war In the books of Kings, war mostly had the connotation of ‘crisis’ in the sense of ‘judgment’: in a war, a king showed what he was worth, the population showed whether or not they dared entrust themselves to YHWH, and especially, YHWH could show who he was: the God of all kingdoms. The texts of the three vassals come closest to this type of valuation of war. Especially in the inscription of Mesha, war can be a result of Kemosh’ anger, but it can also be a deed of salvation. The theme ‘trust’ does not play a large role in this valuation, but ‘obedience’ does: Mesha’s wars are justified, because he is conquering terrain that had been previously lost, or because Kemosh has given him the assignment to wage war. ‘Trust’ seemed to play a role in Zakkur’s inscription, by contrast. Thanks to his trust in Ba lshamayin, Zakkur is capable of defending himself against seventeen kings. In this test, too, the underlying thought is the thought of a ‘test’ or a ‘judgment’: a victory is a sign of divine support. Implicitly, a defeat by Zakkur would have been be interpreted as a rejection by his god, although one can also imagine that Zakkur, in case of such a defeat, would have chosen the explanation of ‘punishment’, just like Mesha did. We came across a way of thinking similar to Zakkur’s reasoning in the prophecies to Esarhaddon: the victories he obtained are a sign of divine support. It could be interesting if we could find out what messages these prophets would have had for their king in case the king encountered a defeat. The texts of Sennacherib en Esarhaddon stand furthest from the way of valuating of the war in the Old Testament. The war is a police/ legal instrument to these emperors. In their experience, they have a monopoly, because of Ashur, on violence so as to establish ‘kittu u mīšaru’, ‘truth and justice’. With Ashurbanipal we essentially find the same opinion, but in his report of his battle against Babylon he seems

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to want to nuance this view by acknowledging that the war also comes with a lot of human misery. He regards the war as cleansing: painful, but rewarding. Surprisingly, in the two priestly texts, the valuation of war is mostly based on the consequences for the population. In this perspective, war can be a disaster, when crimes against the population are committed, but it can also mean liberation if a tyrant is driven away in a short, nonviolent war. In the chronicle, no evaluation of the war takes place. Wars are mentioned tout court as a given. Effect of the valuation of the war on the valuation of the king In our analysis, the difference between the biblical and Ancient Near Eastern texts is perhaps best visible in the effect of the valuation of the war on the valuation of the king. In the books of Kings this effect was always negative apart from one exception. In the Ancient Near Eastern texts the effect is positive apart from one exception (the chronicle). In the chronicle, the subject is not really the war itself, but the military success of the king, and his success in relationship to the decision whether or not the Akitu festival takes place in a given year. In all other texts, the valuation of the war—especially the success of a war—has a positive effect on the valuation of the king. A side remark should be made on the two priestly texts. In these texts, we have two kings, one of which is depicted very negatively and one of which is depicted very positively. Generally speaking, one can state that military success in the Ancient Near Eastern texts is a sign of divine favour. This fact stands in strong contrast to the stories from the books of Kings. Focalization of the gods The war stories from the books of Kings had as their goal to convince the reader that YHWH is the destinateur of history. Within the theology of this book of the Bible, the idea that YHWH is “just” a national god harms his status as Creator of heaven and earth and Lord of all kingdoms. The background of this theology lies in the monotheistic, or at least monolatric character of the Tenach. Once again, this stands in stark contrast to the Ancient Near Eastern texts. In these latter texts, a polytheistic theology is the background against which wars are waged. The god that is a people’s own god

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is often a national god. This is most clearly the case with Kemosh in Mesha’s inscription. This is also the inscription in which YHWH is mentioned as the God of Israel. Apart from the national deities, war gods also appear on stage. AshtarKemosh is perhaps such a god, or perhaps an aspect of Kemosh. Ishtar of Arbela is not a national goddess, but she claims to have granted Esarhaddon victories and Esarhaddon apparently accepts this claim. Ba lshamayin may have been such a war god to Zakkur, who receives honour for his victories in a stela that has been devoted to the divinity Iluwer. A third category of gods made up of the dynastic gods. In the Kulamuwa inscription we already came across Ba al Zemed, Ba al Hammon and Rakab’el. Ashur is a special case in the Assyrian text. He is a national god on the one hand, but at the same time seems to rise above this level as some sort of a protector of the law system. He is some sort of exponent of a civil religion. “In God we trust”, “ina tukulti dAššur” (“Trusting in the god Ashur”) says the great king when he sets out for battle, but in practice, Ashur acts very little. Note that we are informed that Marduk lets the Northern wind blow and that the firegod Girra destroys the besieged city with her tongs. Marduk plays a special role in the Cyrus Cylinder. On the one hand, he can be regarded as a national god: while Cyrus, being Persian, is not likely to have been a worshipper of Marduk, Marduk chooses him to liberate his city Babylon according to this text. But on the other hands Marduk is called “the lord of the gods” and “great lord” and other gods such as Nabu are also mentioned in the text. This seems to be a form of henolatry that comes closest to the biblical monotheism out of all the texts: Marduk is almost the above-national lord of history. The relationship between divine and human activity In order to typify the relationship between YHWH and his people, we used the image of a chess Grandmaster. The war stories from the book of Kings emphasize God’s power on the one hand, and the human responsibility on the other hand. YHWH therefore reveals his will via prophets and people are required to listen to this will and act on it. If they do not do this, punishment may follow. But YHWH intervenes only sporadically.

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The Ancient Near Eastern texts have many similarities to the texts from the books of Kings in this respect. In the Ancient Near Eastern texts, too, it is the task of the individual to obey the god. A god may punish his people, as we saw in the Mesha Inscription. Actual interventions are not often made by the gods in these texts, either. Sudden changes in the battle will more easily be ascribed to the god than a course of events that was predictable based on mutual power relations. Zakkur attributed his rescue to his god and unexpected events are also attributed to the acts of the gods in the Sennacherib’s annals and in the Report to Ashur. An important difference lies in the role played by the king in most texts. In the books of Kings, YHWH’s will is communicated by prophets and priests, who have the role of mediator. In most extrabiblical texts, the king seems to have a mediating function between the gods and the people. He is the vicarius deorum. Esarhaddon’s prophecies form an exception to this rule. The prophets address the king with a biblical-sounding message saying that the king should trust in Ishtar of Arbela. So prophets are mediators but they are hardly critical. The Verse Account Cyrus Cylinder were critical, but there was no prophet in these texts. In these texts, the king is clearly the vicarius deorum. At the most, we think that the Akitu festival may have entailed a yearly critical evaluation of the king. We know from other sources that the priests dragged the king along to the Esagila. Even then, it remains true that it was the king himself who answered to the god, exactly like Esarhaddon did in his report. We do not know to which extent the priests had the authority to be critical with respect to the king. Seeing as that Nabonidus withdrew himself from the ritual of the Akitu festival throughout the better part of the years of his reign, he will have automatically disqualified himself in the eyes of the priests of Marduk. In a great number of texts we came across the Ancient Near Eastern thought that waging war is mostly the god’s task, and building is mostly the task of the king. The theology/ideology of the text All things considered, we believe we can distinguish between four ideologies in these ten texts, two kingly and two religious ideologies.

war in a number of extrabiblical texts royal

659 religious

type of ideology

great king

vassal

priest/prophet

chroniqueur

texts

4, 6 and 7

1, 2 and 3

5, 8 and 9

10

key word

law and order

election

do ut des

natural law

most important interest

legitimization of war

legitimization of cult royal position

meaning of war

legal instrument signal of divine favour

promotion of respect for god

most important event

role of the deity

protector of justice

guardian of ‘great-king’

force behind history

national god

theory of history

CHAPTER FOUR

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS 4.1. Introduction: the theatre of war 4.1.1. The décor In this last chapter, we shall make up the balance. After having analyzed six biblical texts and ten extrabiblical texts, we shall examine what information this comparison has yielded that we can use to answer our question. We shall thereby move from the general to the specific. After all, it has been our intention to test Weippert’s statement that a common Ancient Near Eastern war practice and ideology existed.1 And had Smith, when writing about a “Common Theology of the Ancient Near East”, not already said: “The knowledge of this general pattern should serve as a guide and a caution in the OT studies. It should serve as a guide by making clear the peculiarities of the OT, the points which need special explanation—for instance, Yahweh’s abnormal jealousy and the almost complete neglect of the underworld.”2 According to him, we were to be careful in using the “general ancient eastern background”, for this background was often further removed from the Bible than assumed by researchers. 4.1.2. The plot A background is a static entity. It is true that a décor may change, but it tends to be in position for longer periods at a time. The décor of history is therefore seldom made explicit. It was not until the twentieth century that historians became interested in the décor, in mentality, in the ‘long run’ of things. Until that period, however, historiography was a matter of recounting events and incidents, a matter of dynamics. Just as drama is not in the first place about the décor, but about the plot, the story, the tension between the characters.

1 Weippert, “Heiliger Krieg”, 485: “gemein altorientalischer, ja gemeinantiker Kriegspraxis und -ideologie”. 2 Smith, “Common Theology”, 146.

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Perhaps this is why ‘war’ has always been an important theme in the historiography of nations. Does a war not pen-ultimately entail ‘plot’, ‘intrigue’, ‘conflict’, ‘breaking with the ordinary’? In other words: one only starts to write during those moments that a breach has taken place with the everyday course of things. This was already true in the time of Herodotus, the father of historiography, who wanted to start an investigation (ἱ ορια) into the causes of war between the Greeks and the Persians. And it is still true, considering for example the amount of modern literature that has the Second World War as its subject. In the second paragraph, we shall recap the occasions for writing held by the writers of the texts investigated by us. Every text that we researched had war as its main theme, seeing that we selected the texts for this reason. But our question was: what is the function of making war the theme of a text? As it turns out, great differences exist in this area depending on the context in which a war is mentioned. The plot in which war had a place varied from coup d’états, breaches in a line of dynasty, and cruel wars against former allies to heterodox kings and defeats. 4.1.3. The characters In the third paragraph, we shall examine several characters in our ‘play’. For we have found that the function of the theme ‘war’ does not depend only on the general Ancient Near Eastern décor in front of which acting takes place; nor does it depend only on the plot within which the characters play their role; it equally depends on the character himself. We have paid specific attention within the texts to the focalization of the king and the deity. We believe that, in this manner, separate ideologies can be traced. The great king3 of an empire has a different perspective on reality, has different worries than his vassal. The great king’s main concern is the effectiveness of his warfare. The vassal, on the other hand, even if he is also a vicarius deorum and sees

3 To be entirely clear, let it be mentioned once more that we are speaking of the great king as a literary character. When we are speaking of ‘Sennacherib’, we are not alluding to the historic figure. We can no longer retrieve what Sennacherib the historic character thought or felt. The ideology of ‘Sennacherib’ the literary character, may have been influenced by the personality or mood of the historic Sennacherib, but is also influenced by literary conventions, ideological frameworks and religious institutions. It is the task of historians to retrieve the extent to which the literary and historic figure coincide, but the fact that they can differ widely, can be told from the example of the satire on Nabonidus in the Verse Account and of The Cyrus cylinder. Here, the characters ‘Nabonidus’ and ‘Cyrus’ are most likely invented by the priests of Marduk.

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it as his task to construct and defend his country, is preoccupied with the legitimacy of his position, especially if he has come to power by means of a coup. The priest shares the ideology of the great king. He also sees the king as the head of the empire and as the viceroy of the gods. But he has a special interest in the cult and tends to point out to the king that noblesse oblige; that he has to keep his cultic obligations. The king has an interest in maintaining the priest’s (or prophet’s) support and accepts praise from him, but the priest also has his own agenda and manipulates through this praise—perhaps unnoticed. In addition, we have the ‘chroniqueur’. This person could also be a priest, or a literate citizen. He ponders and wonders whether the things the priest says are true. He broods over such question as ‘can certain patterns be discerned in history: is the New Year’s festival break always followed by calamities?’ Typical of his discussion is the distance from which he writes, sometimes a distance of centuries. This distance almost comes across as ‘objective’ or ‘scientific’. The exile, finally, who himself may have been a priest or a student from a prophetic school, thinks about his exile from the perspective of the priest’s ideology. His king has not made it. What does that say about his God? In short, we think that we can identify five types of ideologies based on our literary analysis: the great king, the vassal, the priest, the chroniqueur and the exile. 4.2. The décor: the common ancient eastern background Smith and Weippert are the main advocates of the theory of the general Ancient Near Eastern theology. In this paragraph we shall sketch this ideology’s perspective on war. 4.2.1. The gods The figure of a national god existed in all of the Ancient Near East. In this respect, YHWH was to Israel what Kemosh was to Moab, what Ashur was to Assyria and Marduk to Babylonia. Theirs was the task of protecting their people. The national god was considered the actual king of his country. A war between peoples was therefore essentially a war between the accompanying national gods. In principle, victory and defeat equaled the god’s victory respectively defeat. The king consulted his god on the matter of his will.

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In modern terms, we are thus speaking of the justification of war when we are speaking of the gods and the war. The question of the casus belli in the Ancient Near East was articulated as: ‘What is the will of the god and on which side is he or she?’ In theory, the will of the god can be described as clearly as the criteria for a just war could be defined in later periods. It boils down to this: if the people were attacked or when the gods’ interests were harmed in any other way, if a treaty was violated, if individuals were committing crimes, if a rebellion or usurpation took place, or if an ally was attacked, we can speak of war that was desired by the deity. According to the same theory, the outcome of the battle—victory or defeat—incorporated a verdict of the legitimacy of the battle. In practice, the matter will probably have been as disorderly as it is in our time. When is a battle truly just? Today’s opponents of the theory of the just war also advance the argument that everyone tends to consider their own war a just war. The interesting aspect of our texts is that they show us that differences of opinion existed in Antiquity, too; that there was even some sort of an opposition. We shall discuss this some more below in the section on the ‘plot’. Reality is always more complex than theory: the king himself may have been an usurpator, for example, or the prophet may have seen him as someone who did not bow for the will of the deity. There may have been a difference of opinion concerning the question whether it was necessary to devastatingly crush a fellow people because they accommodated a few political opponents. And so, it was not only possible that a victory was interpreted differently by some, a defeat did also not necessarily mean that the national deity had lost. It was possible that he intended to punish his own people. The victor sometimes felt that the god of the opponent was on his side, because gods were expected to commit themselves to treaties when they were signed and defend them. If a king rebelled against a vassal treaty, it was possible that he was being reproached for acting against the will of his own god. A god did not only play a role in the run-up to a war and/or in the legitimation of a war. He or she could also intervene directly in the battle. We have come under the impression that wars victories were more easily ascribed to a divine intervention if they were surprising or when they were brought about by a natural phenomenon then when

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they were obtained by human military preponderance.4 This could be an explanation of the fact that texts from the Assyrian empire are less religious in tone than the texts of the vassals. 4.2.2. The king as a vicarius deorum: construction, warfare, upkeep of the cult The king was seen as a viceroy of the gods in all of the Ancient Near East.5 He looks after the god’s affairs on earth. The metaphor of the king as a shepherd is widespread and makes clear how the role of the king is seen: it is his task to graze the sheep and protect them from outside dangers on behalf of the owner who is distant. Another metaphor or line of thinking envisions the king as a cocreator with the deity and the war as an extension of the eternal battle against the powers of chaos. The gods commenced this battle at the creation of the world and it is now the king’s task to continue this battle on behalf of the gods. The moral and legal order on the one hand and the cosmic order on the other follow naturally from each other in the perception of the ancient man. The punishment of criminals, the guarding of treaties, the waging of war, the discovery of dark areas on earth ‘where no one had gone before me’ (a topos in Neo-Assyrian royal inscriptions) and the construction of palaces, temples and cities are all part of the same creative effort towards order undertaken by the king. The most succinct expression of this ideology is the temple. The temple of the national god is the centre of creation, the image of heaven, the residence of the divine king and the centre of distribution of all blessings for humanity. Naturally, the king is expected to watch over the up-keep of the temple, to rebuild it when necessary, and he is expected to provide the cult with anything it needs. Possible criticism on the king will not only have pertained the legitimacy of his warfare, but also the way in which he carried out his domestic tasks. For example, criticism may have been uttered if chaos

4 Compare this to how the storm that destroyed the Spanish Armada was interpreted as God’s breath in Dutch old history books. 5 With the exception of Egypt, but we have not considered this country in our research.

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and lawlessness were increasing, if he were neglecting the cult, ignoring the will of the gods, or if he was led by a different deity. 4.2.3. The war: creative battle against chaos, legal suit, punishment In the Ancient Near East, all of life was embedded in religion. This is most certainly true for warfare. A general Ancient Near Eastern scheme, expressed in narratological terms, therefore looks as follows:

national deity

order = victory

people

helpers

king

enemy

The divine king is the destinateur, he who factually holds power. But just like the king in fairy tales, he governs from a distance. The earthly king, in his role of viceroy, is the executive of his divine plans. The deity wants ‘order’ above other things. As long as the king devotes himself to this cause, he can count on divine support. In this case, war is not seen as the disturbance of order, but as the political-legal means by which the king can “set things in order”. War is a punishment for disobedience by the enemy, for their support to criminals, for their breach of treaties. Especially the Neo-Assyrian great kings viewed war in this manner. Divine support was self-evident to them, giving their texts an edge that appears rather arrogant than pious to us. At moments when victory was not a matter of course, the deity could also take the position of helper and the king the role of destinaire. This occurs, as we saw, especially with the vassals Mesha and Zakkur. These texts are much more religious in character. The narrow victory of these kings is not ascribed the meaning of the triumph of order over chaos; rather, they are interpreted as a sign of divine election. The scheme becomes:

deity

order = victory

king

deity

king

enemy

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This scheme changed to a king’s disadvantage if a king did not strive after the divine order in someone’s opinion, for instance a priest or a prophet, or when no victory is obtained after a defeat. We observed this change in the texts by the prophets (Old Testament) and the priests (Cyrus cylinder). The overriding tone of these texts is religious, even to the extent where it seems that the deity has taken the position of actantial subject. For example, Marduk rejects Nabonidus and even looks for his successor. YHWH then sends a deceiving spirit to lure the king of Israel into the battle so that he will go towards his own downfall. The scheme then becomes:

deity

punishment = defeat

king

helpers

deity

enemy

4.3. The plot: the crisis as crystallization point Events that take place as they are supposed to take place, tend to not be very interesting. Only when a crisis occurs, ‘history is written’, literally and figuratively. Only then do suspense and an intrigue arise between the characters. The above actantial scheme can also be rewritten in the grammatical sense: “The deity ensures that the king founds an order of peace and justice for his people.” This sentence can be crossed out, can be considered ‘in crisis’, at three different places. In the first place, when it is no longer clear what the deity wants or is able to do, for example because he is defeated or led into exile. In the second place, when doubts exist whether the king is carrying out the will of the gods, for example because he is a usurpator or because he is heterodox. In the third place, when a defeat is taken, or when doubts exist concerning the legitimacy of a war. 4.3.1. When it is no longer clear what the deity wants We have seen that in theory, everything was clear. A national deity defended his own people. A battle between peoples was a battle between their gods. In practice, this scheme was soon thwarted. The scheme

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may have been complicated because the victors often made the gods of the defeated people into a witness, a guarantor of a vassal treaty. In this manner, the defeated people’s god was expected to be committed to the treaty. We saw this custom in 2 Kings 18:25, in which the Rabshakeh states that Sennacherib waged war against Jerusalem in accordance with YHWH’s will. Although the argument used is not the vassal treaty, but Hezekiah’s heterodoxy as postulated by Rabshakeh, the argument was similarly capable of confusing and demoralizing the enemy. The tension that arises, is a tension between a god and his people. Rabshakeh tries to create this tension between Judah and YHWH, to no avail. Mesha supposes this tension existed in the past, to be precise when “Kemosh was angry with his land”. Nevertheless, we are under the impression that this model of thought was hardly ever followed in practice. The cause of divine wrath will often have been sought with the king, rather than with his people; a phenomenon that will sound familiar to soccer coaches. At times, victors would carry the statues of gods into exile. In this way, the visible connection between a god and his people was cut of and the defeated people was ‘beheaded’ in political-religious respect. From the satire on Nabonidus and from Cyrus’ cylinder we learn that Nabonidus brings the statues of the gods to safety in Babylon for fear of this divine exile. This was another maneuver that came with risks, for the writers of the aforementioned texts doubted the legitimacy of this action. It will be apparent that it is also not a priori clear what the god wants in the case of defeat or in the case that the king holds an entirely different opinion than the priests. We shall discuss these situations below. 4.3.2. When the king is dethroned, defeated or when he becomes heterodox If the king is a viceroy of the god, we can suppose that the god chooses his own representative. Election, however, also implies the possibility of dismissal. The legitimacy of a king was therefore a tricky question in all of the Ancient Near East. One can think of the events at David’s court, as described in 2 Samuel, and of the vicissitudes at the NeoAssyrian court at the time of the Sargonids. Military success was seen as a confirmation of divine election. A defeat, on the other hand, was a big problem: in his inscriptions, Sennacherib painstakingly keeps silent about his father Sargon II, who fell in battle.

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We have seen that at the time of Sennacherib’s son Esarhaddon, doubts about his legitimacy were very large. He already had his name as a disadvantage, because it showed that he was not the eldest prince at the court (Aššur-a u-idinna, “Ashur has given a brother”). That this was seen as a big problem can be told from the fact that Sennacherib tried to change Esarhaddons name into Aššur-e el-ilāni-mukin-apli, “Ashur, the hero of gods, has determined the heir”. The tension surrounding the legitimacy was almost tangible in the prophecies about Esarhaddon. Ishtar encourages Esarhaddon with the message that she has nevertheless given him military victories. Esarhaddon gratefully preserved these prophecies. We saw a great relief with the three vassals—Mesha, Kulamuwa and Zakkur—about their military success. Mesha may have been the legitimate successor of his father, but his father had been unfortunate in the military field. After such an event it is encouraging for a king to notice that the wrath of a national god has diminished. Kulamuwa tried to cover up the fact that his success was probably mainly the result of his loyal position as a vassal vis-à-vis Assyria. And Zakkur, as usurpator, may have had appearances against him, but he definitively and unambiguously knew he was elected by Belshamayin because of his military success. The tension between god and king do not only come to the fore in matters of legitimacy, but they also arise when the king does not seem to comply with the will of the god. We have seen that the will of the god, defined by us as ‘order’, contained on the one hand an ethical, and on the other hand a cultic component. In one respect, the king had to maintain law and order, safety in the streets and economic stability. In another respect, he had to ensure the continuation of the cult. Criticism of the king could therefore pertain both of these aspects. In one of the prophecies to Esarhaddon, we can find, apart from support, a critical remark on the neglect in bringing offerings to Ishtar. In the stories from the book of Kings, we repeatedly see criticism on the king. This criticism at its deepest level relates to the relationship between the king and YHWH, for example to the lack of trust on the part of the king. This criticism is expressed both on his ethical attitude, for example with respect to ‘orphans, widows and strangers’, and for his cultic policies, for example honoring other gods and bringing offerings. The strongest expression of the aforementioned tension between the king and the deity can be found in the Verse Account and the Cyrus

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cylinder. Here, it was clear for the writers that both the political-societal and cultic order had been seriously disturbed. The weak ones were killed, the merchant was hampered in his entrepreneurial interest, foreign cults were introduced, military victories were claimed that were never, in reality, achieved. With such an unorthodox king, the national god also needs to resort to unorthodox measures, such as calling upon the help of a foreign king. 4.3.3. When defeat is taken, or when the legitimacy of war is at stake A third type of crisis occurs, when a defeat is taken or when doubts exist with respect to legitimacy of the war itself. We have seen most clearly that legitimacy was at stake in Esarhaddon’s report to Ashur. In this text, a campaign to the sister nation of the Subarteans, which was apparently experienced as overly grand, forced Esarhaddon to convince his god and his people that the war had a just cause. We had already seen that a battle against a fellow people was seen in a different light than a battle against just any other people in 1 Kings 12:24, as well as in the sixth campaign of Ashurbanipal. From this account as from other sources, we know that Assyria tended to treat Babylon differently than the other peoples, and that great commotion was stirred if a king deviated from this rule, as was the case with Sennacherib. A defeat also raised questions. We saw that a military defeat within the Neo-Assyrian ideology was in principle impossible. Defeat was therefore covered up or kept silent. In other places, we found the possibility to regard a defeat as a punishment of the own god. We came across this option in the stone of Mesha, but also in 1 Kings 20 and 22. A defeat could in any case even be seen as a liberation, namely of a hated king, as we concluded above. We encounter this phenomenon In 2 Kings 3:10, remarkably from the king itself, as we do in the Verse Account and the Cyrus’ cylinder. 4.4. The actors: different characters and their ideologies Finally, we shall discuss the various main characters. For against the background of the common Ancient Near Eastern décor, several ‘plots’, several types of conflicts can develop, as we have seen above. The final version of the script, however, also depends on the role one plays in

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the piece. A king has a different perspective, a different focalization, than a prophet or a chroniqueur. 4.4.1. The great king: the divine order We came across the figure of the great king (šarru rabû) with the individuals Sennacherib (chapter 3.4) and Esarhaddon (chapter 3.6 and to some extent in chapter 3.5) and Ashurbanipal (chapter 3.7). The ideology of the great king is an imperialist one. Akkadic does not have a term for ‘emperor’, but the titles ‘king of the world’ (šar kiššati) and ‘king of the four quarters’ (šar kibrāt irbittim), which kings assign to themselves, can be seen as descriptions of what the Romans would call an imperator. The great king stands at the top of the earthly pyramid and it is lonely at the top: his kingship knows no equal (šarrūtu la šanān). The king has the gods to thank for his position; he holds their special preference as the ‘favorite of the great gods’ (migir ilāni rabûti). Especially the state god Ashur guarantees law and order (kittu u mīšaru) in the world. It is the king’s task to guard that order, to be a lover of justice (ra im mīšari). Concretely, this means: helping people in need and protecting the cult. Especially, it means: waging war. After all, in any place where people were revolting against the divine order, it was the king’s task to guide these people towards the right path, and/or to punish them. “May the insubmissive bow” (lā kanšuti liknušū). Persons that do not adhere to the divine order, are therefore per definition “thieves, robbers, sinners and bloodshedders”. The god Ashur supports the king in all of this. Ashur “makes my weapons more powerful than those who dwell in palaces” (eli gimri ašib parakki ušarba kakkia). It is the fear for the awesome splendor ( pul u melammī ) of Ashur, or for that of the king’s, that paralyzes enemies and scares them out of their residences before anything has even happened. In other words, the great king pays tribute to war with an opinion is almost police-like. Assyria holds some sort of a monopoly on violence, as the police agent of the world. A war waged by Assyria is actually a priori a just war. The function of the ‘war’ theme in these texts is the confirmation of this view of the world. A crisis with respect to this world view would occur when a defeat is taken, but in theory this is impossible. In the

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case that the facts nevertheless stand in contrast to the theory (such as with Sennacherib standing before Jerusalem), this is seen as all the more regrettable for the facts. A broad range of literary options stand at the great king’s disposal to display the facts in such a manner that they correspond to the Assyrian world view. A crisis may also occur when a sister nation, such as the Subarteans, who are not seen as barbarians from an unknown region, suddenly become an enemy. In this scenario, the king has to explain why he was compelled to act harshly; the a priori obvious justification of war goes missing here. The propaganda of this world view addresses two groups. In the first place, the subjected peoples. These peoples need to remain permeated with the “awesome splendor” of Ashur, because else, they may develop wrong ideas. Imperialist ideologies, said Liverani, are always a “systematization of unbalance”.6 A second group that the propaganda addresses, is the population in the centre of the empire itself. In an empire, wars tend to be a far-away show for the people in the centre.7 They do not personally experience the war nor the threat. Their question is not whether the king is the right man in the right place, but whether it is necessary to wage a war. Why do their boys have to be away from home so long? Naturally, the argument that is most concrete to the population is of an economic nature.8 If a population notices that it is benefiting from a war, existing critical noises will die down. This can be told very clearly from the literary structure of the text. An ideology of this type is accompanied by a very specific type of literature, as we saw.

6

Liverani, “Ideology”, 298. This passage was writen in July 2001, two months before the attacks on the WTC and the Pentagon. The attackers seem to have been keenly aware of this mechanism. As Osama bin Laden said in his television message: “Now, the United States are experiencing what we have been experiencing for so long.” 8 A contemporary parallel: Clinton did not have defend the position that the thousands of bombs dropped during the Kosovo war were effective (they were not) to the home front. All he had to explain was why the United States were spending money and material on a small country far away in the first place. Bush sr. had a less difficult time with Kuwait eight years earlier, because the U.S. interest in the oil state was obvious. In this war, the first question played a larger role, because the fear of defeat was deeply ingrained since Vietnam, and the Pax Americana would not survive a second shock of that magnitude. 7

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In the field of events, we concluded that there the exposition phase is short. There is no need for the kings to elaborately dwell on their election nor on the merits of their predecessors. Sennacherib states very clearly in his introduction that Ashur has given him an unrivalled kingship, and that Ashur has made his weapons stronger than “who dwell in palaces”. As a rule, the complication phase is therefore short. Actually, there is only one complication in this world view: rebellion against the divine order. This rebellion is therefore per definition “sin” ( i u), be it insubordination by a vassal or resistance by highly placed persons. The battle itself is sketched in just a few broad lines, because “the awesome splendour” of Ashur or the terror of the weapons of the king tend to generate sufficient shock and awe to change the mind of the rebellious vassal. Ashur himself hardly ever has to appear in an active capacity. Most of the time is devoted to the denouément. We have seen a scala of events that that formed the denouément: cities are taken, new terrain is trodden, enemies flee, plundering takes place and taxes are paid. All of these are predominantly economic activities, probably intended to convince the home front of the profit that they, too, derived from the war. Of course, the events always entail a turn for the better. The actanctial scheme of both royal inscriptions is also similar: the king is in the position of subject, the quest is aimed at the maintaining the divine order, the god Ashur is the destinateur in all of this and the king is per definition the destinataire. In the position of opponent we find the—also per definition—rebellious vassals. Something else that was remarkable and that fits in nicely with this analysis: although the texts showed an interest in time, they showed a greater interest in place. The maintenance of the divine order is timeless. The annals can almost be seen as ‘historicized epics’, with the king as a ‘perfect hero’ (e lum gitmalum). It is not time, but place that is in need of organization. It is not the here and now that has to be explained from past events, but the world has to be laid open: mountains are to be climbed, new areas are to be trodden, far-away peoples are to be civilized and rebellious cities are to be subjected. Just like an explorer travelled to dark Africa in the nineteenth century, the Assyrian kings set foot on terrains “where no man had gone before me.” Since stories have been called time-art—in order to make a story out of an event, a writer especially has to play around with time, representational and represented time—it will not come across as surprising

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that the royal inscriptions do not reach such a high level at the level of the story. Little games are played with time (flashbacks, anticipations and tempo), and little use is made of the possibilities made possible by focalizations. The king reports in the first person and is the only one to give his view on reality. It should be mentioned that the report to Ashur by Esarhaddon differed from the annals in this respect. The literary and lively character of this genre, praised by all, oftentimes called letter to the god, lies in the fact that we encountered an actual plot with a dramatic tension between two characters. In this text, we learnt how the king of Shubria thought and felt. Here, we suddenly came across direct speech in the story. We also saw that this probably has to do with the issue that the opposition to this campaign in Ashur was stronger than usual. The king of the sister nation of the Subarteans was not just a barbarian who did not want to bend to another power. For him, the Assyrians were willing to foster more consideration and that consideration translated itself into quite a large role in the story. Esarhaddon was able to convey that it had nonetheless been necessary to act harshly with respect to Shubria by elaborately going into the opponent’s arguments. If there were internal focalizators other than the narrator writing in the first person, it was striking that their characters remained flat in the annals. No other emotions and attitudes were ascribed to them in the story other than fear, hostility and disloyalty to their oath. Seeing that the writers of these texts where unable to live it up at the level of the story, they attempted to let their literary skills loose at the level of the text. The texts excel in Wortornamentik (Mowinckel): repetitions of sounds, and words, figura etymologica and above, all, the metaphors. Taming wings, fleeing bats, climbing bulls, crying storms, resounding thunder storms, cities as clouds and countries as arrow shafts—we encountered all of these. A very bombastic style. 4.4.2. The vassal: the divine election We have witnessed vassals in action: Mesha (chapter 3.1), Kulamuwa (chapter 3.2) and Zakkur (chapter 3.3). The vassal holds a position that is essentially different than that of the great king. His legitimacy is not beyond discussion, as with the great king. He will have to continuously prove it, and he will have to do this in two directions. Two directions, which tend to hold opposite expectations of him. On the one hand, the

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great king or the powerful king of the neighboring country demands loyalty of the vassal. On the other hand, his people will expect him to plot a more independent course. We observed a similar tension in the Bible, with the story of 2 Kings 18–19/Isaiah 36–37. From the perspective of the vassal’s preoccupation with the legitimization of his position, it is understandable that the deity and the meaning of a victory play a different role with him than they do with the great king. While divine support and victory were a done deed with the great king even before the battle had taken place, with the vassal this never was unquestionable at forehand. All three texts bear witness to a major turn in history. The vassal wants to emphasize the fact that history could have gone differently and that the gods must have had a reason for granting them this victory. The theme of his plea is not the necessity of the eternal order, but the contingency of the free election by the gods. In all three texts, we therefore encountered a great change, a turn. History is divided in a period before and a period after the accession to the throne of this king. Another aspect that struck us is that the texts were much more religious in tone than the texts by the great king. Kemosh used to be angry, and Moab used to be oppressed because of this, but “in my days”, says Mesha, he has granted victory. The predecessors of Kulamuwa “did nothing” and the Mushkabim lived “like dogs” in those days, but Kulamuwa put a threefold stripe on his inscription dividing the dark times before his kingship from the golden century of peace and prosperity during his rule. And Zakkur had the toughest time as usurpator, besieged by no less than seventeen hostile kings. On the other hand, his is the privilege to explicitly hear, from “seers and messengers” that he need not fear, for Belshamayin has elected him as king and shall therefore stand with him in battle. The function of the war theme in these texts is thus not reassuring confirmation of a world view, but proof of the surprising divine election of this king. We can also tell this from the genre of the three texts. All three texts are dedicatory inscriptions, the two most religious of which are moreover pious in tone and explicitly devoted to the gods. Mesha puts his stela at a height for Kemosh in Karcho “as heigth of deliverance”. Zakkur devotes his stela to Ilu-Wer. The least religious text, the one by Kulamuwa, was found in his palace. The vassal mentions two reasons for the composition of his text: expression of gratitude to his god and the continuation of his own

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name, zakir šumi, (at least with Kulamuwa and Zakkur—with Mesha the end of the inscription is lacking). We can safely assume that the king is also addressing his own people via the gods, and that the message to his subjects here is that he is the right man in the right place. A king by the grace of the national god and a king who has brought his people nothing but good tidings. A specific literary form goes with this ideology. In the area of events, it is striking that all three of the texts start by immediately postulating the legitimacy of the king. With Mesha and Kulamuwa, the dynastic descent is mentioned. With Zakkur, a usurpator, divine election is explicitly stated. With Mesha and Kulamuwa, remarkably, a comment is directly added that the country was not thriving during their predecessor’s period. Zakkur wisely leaves the theme of his predecessors alone and directly moves on to the topic of aggression from the outside. While aggression from the outside hardly plays a role with the great king, the three vassals each report oppression or an attack by an enemy. The battle has the function of marking the transition from a dark to a light period. The acts of war are recounted in a relatively sober manner. With Mesha and Zakkur, a large role in the war has been reserved for the deity. Their gods explicitly support them and actually intervene. This is not the case with Kulamuwa. Here, the position of the gods seems to be taken by the Assyrians, who Kulamuwa says to have hired. Much representational time is devoted to the construction activities of the king. This feature is inherent to the genre of the dedicatory inscription. It is striking, by the way, that Mesha reports many events during the dénouement that we also came across in Sennacherib’s annals: religious measures, annexation of a conquered area and punitive measures. It appears as if Mesha wants to make himself known as some sort of a great king. The actantial field is rather small. There is the main character, the king, who stands opposed to hostile kings and to predecessors. With Mesha and Zakkur, the national god is the destinateur. Time and place do not play a large role in the various stories either. The only global message we can extract is that life is better ‘now’ than it was ‘before’.

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What is furthermore striking in these texts, is the aspect that we can find two narrative programs, at least with Mesha and Zakkur. One military program, in which the deity is the subject, and one construction program, in which the king is the subject. An underlying literary and religious opinion can be conjectured that the waging of war is a divine task while construction is the king’s task. The literary and religious convention we spoke of in the last paragraph, has its repercussions on the use of time at the level of the story. The tradition prescribes that divine deeds are told first and the royal ones thereafter. In other words: acts of war first and construction activities second. Because of this tradition, chronology is missing in the text. Approximately the same amount of representational time is devoted to each of the themes. The tempo employed is mainly the that of summary. Scenes hardly ever occur. Related to this observation is the fact that there are few focalizators. With Mesha and with Zakkur, the most religious texts of the three as mentioned before, the deity is mentioned very explicitly as an internal focalizator. With Mesha, we moreover come across the enemy, Omri’s son, as a focalizator. His character acquires little depth, however. His only ‘spoken text’ is that he, too, wants to suppress Moab. In all three texts, the effect of the focalizations is purely legitimizing. Apparently, the vassal cannot deal with criticism or humor. His position is too precarious. The impression he wants to create with his audience—he has everything under control—comes across as somewhat forced. The vassal’s texts are sober as the great king’s texts were bombastic. We hardly ever come across metaphors (just a few with Kulamuwa), nor figura etymologica. Instead, we found a very well thought through structure in all three texts. A structure that emphasizes the split between the past and now on the one hand, and between military and construction activities on the other. Motif words mark this structure, specifically the fact that the king appears in the third person in the first part, and in the first person in the second part (emphatic ‫ אנך‬or ‫)אנה‬. The tight structure of these three texts has been held for poetry before. We did not follow this view, but acknowledge the correctness of the observation underlying this theory, namely that the writers of these texts focused more on the structure (syntagmatic) than on the choice of

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words ( paradigmatic), as the investigated great kings had their writers do. The great king wants to emphasize the continuity of his empire with the endless stream of superlatives, while the vassal wants to paint the picture of a break in sharp claire-obscure. 4.4.3. The priest/prophet: the divine do ut des We encountered the prophet in the men and women from Arbela who sent a message on behalf of Ishtar of Arbela to king Esarhaddon (chapter 3.5). And behind the writers of the Verse Account (chapter 3.8) and the Cyrus cylinder (chapter 3.9) we suspect the priests of Marduk. Although the prophets from Arbela (eighth century) and the priests from Babylon (sixth century) differed widely in time, in function and probably in culture, we will discuss them together anyway. For their texts reflects the more or less independent perspective, because these are texts that originate from outside of the court. Texts that are aimed at the court in a certain sense. We hereby enter the field of tension between church and state. The priest and the prophet have a different interest than the king. They represent a higher power in their own eyes. The king is a king by the grace of the deity and the priest and prophet are the spokespersons of that deity. It seems a subtle difference and it often was. It is the difference between a king who likes to put forward that he has been elected by the deity and has therefore set up a height for him, and the priest who likes to subtly remind the king that he has been elected by the deity with a certain goal and therefore cannot give up that goal. It is the same theologoumenon, but the king uses it to glorify himself, while the priest and the prophet subtly use it to manipulate the king in the direction of gratitude. Putting it in protestant terms: the king tends to dwell on the salvation aspect and the prophet on the gratitude part. These texts attempt to emphasize the sovereignty of the deity. “May they see it and praise me that I am Ashur, lord of the gods” (K 2401 II 24–25). This sovereignty entailed the god’s freedom to replace a king who did not fulfill his mandate with a king after his heart (Cyrus cylinder). The texts based themselves on a turned around do ut des: the deity granted support to the king and now desires loyalty in return. The most explicitly, this mechanism was found in the prophecy K 2401 III 15–36: “Did I not collect your haters and foes like butterflies. As for you, what have you given to me?”

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The function of the war theme in these texts therefore differs in a subtle but essential manner from the theme of the royal inscriptions. The successful war is memorized to bestow upon the king an attitude of dependency of the deity and gratitude. The message is: Fear not, trust me and do what I tell you. This is clear from the motif word pala u (fear) in these texts. A king who does not cast off his god fearing attitude ( pali Marduk) from his inside (Cyrus cylinder) has nothing else to fear: lā tapalla (prophecies). The three texts that we considered jointly here differ from each other in multiple aspects, including genre and literary character. Yet we can also point out several similarities. With the events, we observe the striking importance of divine election. In the ten prophecies to Esarhaddon that we consulted, this event occurs no less than five times. In the Cyrus cylinder, Marduk’s search for a good king is elaborately related. The difference with the vassal’s ideology, which we also called one of divine election is—once more—the following. The vassal says: “I am elected” followed by a full stop. The prophet says: “The king has been elected as . . .” and fills in a task. In the prophecies, we also saw a special interest in events surrounding succession, birth of kings and the like. Furthermore, we can observe a larger interest in the cultic matters than in the Royal inscriptions in these texts. In oracles, in the taking place of the Akitu festival or not, and in the erection of blasphemous statues. At the level of the story, it is remarkable that this is the first time we can speak of texts in which the king does not speak of himself in the first person. It may be true that the Cyrus cylinder offers an interesting hybrid, in which the king is initially spoken of in the third person, after which he continues speaking about himself in the first person. But other than that, the king is either spoken to in the second person (prophecies), with the deity as the ‘focalizator’, or spoken of in the third person (Verse Account and cylinder), with the deity amply appearing as an internal focalizator. For the first time, too, the gods are irate with the king. It is not just the internal focalizators who are critical with respect to the king, the narrator himself does not hesitate to pass on his judgment (“worthless”) of the king. We also observe that both in the Verse Account and in the cylinder, the war is examined from the perspective of the population. Nabonidus

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is denounced for his cruel war against Tema (in the Verse Account) and Cyrus is praised for his effortless capture of Babylon. Not just the war, but all forms of politics are looked at from the populations’ perspective: Tema’s population complains as loudly in the Verse Account over the forced labour Nabonidus burdens them with for the benefit of his own palace, as the population does in the cylinder. At the level of the text, a preference for play with sounds and for repetition of words attracts attention in all three of the texts. With the prophecies and in the Verse Account, this could have to do with the memorization of the text. Metaphors appear surprisingly little in the cylinder and in the Verse Account. We do find many metaphors in the prophecies, but they arise from a very different register than the metaphors in the Royal inscriptions. Here, we have to do with images from domestic circles: father, mother, midwife. This fits in well with the paternalistic nature of the ideology of the texts. The image of father/mother has the double function of giving the king confidence, while at the same time postulating the divine power over the king. The metaphors of the heavenly throne room likewise has the aim of making absolutely clear to the king where the—in the eyes of the prophet—real authority is vested in the world. In the two texts from the environment of the priests of Marduk—the Verse Account and the cylinder—we also encountered the extensive use of intertextuality. This literary technique was on the one hand employed with an ironic or even with a sarcastic aim—making a fool of Nabonidus—and on the other hand to confront the king with the example of king Ashurbanipal. Ashurbanipal had been a non-Babylonian that had honored Bablyon, and in particular, Marduk’s cult. 4.4.4. The chroniqueur: the divine pattern In the last text we investigated, we came across yet a fourth type of author with his own ideology. We learnt about him in chapter 3.10 on the Esarhaddon Chronicle and we therefore call him the chroniqueur. We are treating him separately, although the position can be defended that he should be discussed as a variant of type three, the priest. But although we apparently have to situate him in the vicinity of the Marduk temple, the chroniqueur takes more distance from Marduk than the inspired priests do in the Verse Account and the Cyrus cylinder. He takes distance both in a temporal (170 years) and in an emotional sense.

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This distance is often taken for objectivity. Allegedly, we have to do with objective historiography for the first time in the history of humanity, a historiography that does not avoid mentioning the own defeats. We suspect that something else is hidden behind these facts than the wish to objectively report on historic facts. As it happens, the chroniqueur turns out to be interested in exactly the same matters as the priests from the Verse Account and the cylinder: the Akitu festival and the fortunes of the kings that do or do not let this festival take place. The difference with the priests from the last chapter is that these latter make their message very obvious in the middle of the fire of the political crisis, while the chroniqueur looks at history in a reflective manner from the cool of his study. The priest preaches, the chroniqueur interprets. It seems as if the chroniqueur tests the statement of the priests via the method of correspondence, which he adopted from astrology: is it true that the kings that let the Akitu festival take place had more success than they who did not? The function of the war theme is thereby a given: the war is a litmus test. This is not only true for the war, but also for internal events and the for tragic events such as the death of the queen. But the question is: is the theory of the divine retribution correct? Can we verify that it is in the interest of the king himself to let the celebration of the Akitu festival take place? These questions and the underlying hypothesis are accompanied by their own literary style. A style that was copied from astronomic diaries. At the level of the events, we can observe approximately the same image as in the cylinder and in the Verse Account. The chroniqueur especially reports cultic events (to which we have also counted the mysterious remarks about ‘selections’), acts of war, domestic problems, such as executions of highly placed persons and the death of royal individuals, and the succession. At the level of the story, the most important observation is that this level actually is lacking entirely, at least in the day-to-day sense of that word. The text is a summation of events, but nowhere do these develop into a sequence with a plot, actors or a quest. It is also striking that everything is observed from an external focalization. These two pieces of information, the absence of a narrator who intervenes in the events and the objectification of external focalization strengthen the effect of

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objectivity and of a scientific approach. At the same time, interventions are actually made into the events, even if it is only through the selection of recounted events. The ‘scientist’, who orders facts in the hope of finding regularities and a pattern, is still engaged with ideology in our eyes. To our modern opinion, he navigates his conclusion in the direction that is not persuasive to us. However, the chroniqueur himself was most likely convinced of an undeniable pattern that was comparable to that of astrology. At the level of the text, this ‘scientific approach’ continues: the writer uses strongly formulaic language, that can be called sober and in which the factuality is emphasized by means of the use of stativi (past participle)—symbolic for the factual ‘statements’ he makes. 4.4.5. The exile: the divine consolation The exile, whom we encountered in the bible book Kings (chapter 2), stands out. against the background of the four characters previously mentioned—great king, vassal, priest and chroniqueur. It is true that he supposedly came from the background of a priest: we mention the special interest he had for the temple and for Pesach in the book of Kings. Nonetheless, the war theme has a different function in his writings. This writer lives as a deportee, an exile, which implies that institutions such as king, temple and country are lacking. These institutions may play a large role in his story, but the perspective is that they have gone missing. This writer writes from the perspective of defeat, loss. And he tries to find an answer to the question where his God is to be found in all of this. The answer he finds is that his God, YHWH, really is in control of history. YHWH is the destinateur of history’s destiny. However, he bequests to his people the freedom of action. The way in which YHWH wishes to steer history, is guiding his people with his word, as a great king does to his vassals. This word is to be found in the temple and in the celebration of Pesach, and in the case of failure thereof, it is to be found with the prophets. That explains why these prophets are called the “horses and chariot of Israel”. Joshua had warned for a possible exile during the celebration of the first Pesach feast ( Josh. 5), Solomon hinted at it during the construction of the temple (1 Kings 8:46–51), but the comfort that speaks from these warning texts is: God is not bound to one place, he can also hear his people in exile and change things for the better.

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That things went wrong is a result of the fact that the people and the king have not stuck to the covenant with YHWH and did not listen. Given a few exceptions, i.e. Hezekiah and Josiah, the covenant with YHWH has been forgotten. The kings of Judah had forgotten the Torah scroll in the temple and the kings of Israel did not listen to the prophets that had been sent to them. It appears that the writer of this Deuteronomist history takes up themes of his time—possibly of people in his area (mainly the Babylonians). The great king is also familiar with notions of the breaking of an alliance as a ‘sin’. But with the biblical writer, YHWH is the ‘great king’ and the Jewish people is the vassal. With the vassal the biblical writer shares the notion of divine election. It is possible that he adopted from the priest, the idea of the central festival (Pesach—Akitu) that reveals and mediates Gods will in a unique manner; and is therefore a festival that can not be skipped without punishment. The exile shares the opinion with the chroniqueur that kings that kept Gods command did better than kings that did not. He thus draws on the Ancient Near Eastern body of thought but he constructs his own Jewish story from that body of thought. The function of the war theme can be called ‘pastoral’. Just like pastoral care tends to have a component of ‘comfort’ and one of ‘challenge’, the writer comforts his audience with the conviction that YHWH directs history, and at the same time, he challenges them to become serious about Gods will in the future. Lost wars also reveal YHWH’s will. Nowhere in these texts did we encounter the idea that war is beautiful. A war had sometimes been declared contrary to Gods will (1 Kings 12); sometimes the method of warfare was immoral (2 Kings 3); sometimes a war was a punishment (1 Kings 22); sometimes it was a test for the king (1 Kings 20); and sometimes it was unambiguous disaster to the populations (2 Kings 6–7 and 2 Kings 18–19). Representational technique and theology went hand in hand in the exile’s story too. At the level of the event, we have seen that the wars did not always end in outstanding victories. After all, the interpretation of one’s own misfortunes was the occasion for writing down these tales. It was striking that the largest amount of representational time was allocated to the so-called complication phase. This complication phase is for a large part composed of prophets acting, negotiating and counseling. The acts

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of war themselves are usually disposed of in a few words. In short: here, too, we can see that the central question is whether the people will listen to Gods word as conveyed by the prophets or not. Another aspect that was striking in comparison to the extrabiblical texts, is the generally large number of characters: kings, prophets, false prophets, hostile kings, allies, persons from the people, spokesmen. And when they act, they tend to surpass the level of a flat character. Through complicated emotions and ‘character development’ a multiple perspective of sorts even arises. At the level of the story, the thought that people are free to act and look at a situation in different ways is visible in the frequent use of the tempo of a scène. In this tempo, people appear on stage in a speaking capacity, so that we look along with them (focalization) in a manner of speaking. When we were quantifying those focalization, it struck us that the external focalizator (the narrator) was still allocated the largest amount of speaking time, but still substantially less than in the extrabiblical texts. King and prophet tended to be speaking during equal quantities of time, although the prophet tended to have the last word. God is never brought forward directly in a speaking capacity in the stories (as an internal focalizator). This is a large difference with for example the Cyrus cylinder, where Marduk is an internal focalizator. YHWH’s message is always passed on by people (i.e.: prophets). The effects of the focalizations were: criticism on the king, irony, the build-up of tension and the aforementioned multiple perspective. At the level of the text, finally, the first thing that should be mentioned is that metaphors occur only sporadically. It seems as if metaphors are often an indication of propagandistic texts. The metaphors that were used in the biblical stories, tend to be uttered by the kings or by false prophets. It is they who speak of “small things thicker than loins” or who speak about “Samaria’s dust that will not be sufficient to fill the hand” or who decorate with iron horns. When Isaiah uses metaphors in Isaiah 36–37/2 Kings 18–19, these are for a large part references to images from the Assyrian propaganda. Apparently, the Bible writers did not intend to manipulate people with their flowery language, but to present them with a choice. A technique that was frequently used by the biblical writer is the use of motif words. With these motif words, the stories are put into a framework and connected to each other in an intertextual way. In this

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manner, the ‘structure’ of the history is revealed: if humanity does this, that is what happens. Motif words we encountered are: to hear (‫)שׁמע‬, to speak (‫)דבר‬, to see (‫ )ראה‬and other verbs that have to do with the perception of reality. The point of the stories is often ‘who do you listen to?’ and ‘whose vision do you base your faith on’? If YHWH intervenes, he preferably intervenes in perceptions of people. He opens eyes, he lets people hear sounds or rumors, he gives a prophet a vision. Themes also linked the texts with ach other. Themes included the recognition formula, the handing over formula and confidence in God that stands opposed to confidence in horse and chariot. These themes, too, stand in relation to the message that YHWH directs history, and that what matters is to acknowledge and trust him. 4.5. Theological evaluation: how ‘holy’ is the war? The term ‘holy war’ has not been used by us in this study. We did not encounter any ‘holy wars’ in or outside biblical texts, not in the classical sense of the word (a war within an amfyctony) nor in the modern sense (a religious war). All of life, including war, was seen from a religious perspective in the Ancient Near East, but the word ‘holy’ does not convey this state of affairs and even if it did, it would be a pleonasm. What we did, however, find in our study is that a form of reflection existed in Antiquity concerning the question whether a war is justified. In a world in which no separation of powers existed, war as a means of power regularly stood opposed to law. In other words: the relationship between power and law was always ambivalent and shall remain so. Those that hold the power will always claim that their actions serve the law. When a keeper of the law—be it a prophet or a judge or a weapon inspector—wants to take measure of the extent to which the rulers are staying within the law, it remains the question whether the latter will accept this check. Most often, it has not been the case in history. This is one of the most important arguments to pacifists: since war will never have itself regulated by law, the best we can do is abandon this means of exercising power entirely. Great kings a priori took for granted the fact that their wars served “truth and justice”; vassals saw divine justification in their victories; and priests and prophets were oftentimes favorably disposed towards giving the kings their blessing, provided that those kings promote the advancement of the cult. Although criticism on the kings was possible in

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the rest of the Ancient Near East too, this criticism was generally—for as far as we have been able to research—not of an ethical character. The special feature of the Old Testament lies in the serious attempt undertaken by Judah and Israel to subdue power to law. Here, prophets were standing up who claimed that YHWH did not desire sacrifices but obedience instead. This ethical line of approach made that the writers of the biblical war stories had a special interest in the losers and in “the orphan, the widow and the stranger”. Recurrently, references are made to “the book of the chronicles of the kings of Israel” in the book of Kings, for those who are interested in the courageous deeds of the kings. The writers of the book of Kings were not so inclined, at any rate. Elie Wiesel writes: “This is one of the magnificent characteristics of Jewish tradition: she does not recognize any war as holy; warfare can not and may not serve as a means to achieve something noble or holy. Killing, even for a higher purpose, diminishes a human. Judaism has never given its military heroes an aureole of holiness. A ‘holy Louis’ is for us simply inconceivable”.9 Wiesel’s statement has been confirmed by our investigation. As own hero’s are not idolized, the enemies are not de-humanized in the book of Kings. This work of literature goes with a preference for the humanity of every person and has the feature of a “multiple perspective”— possibly for the first time in the history of literature. The enemy was equally heard, in such a way that it was made possible for the audience to understand his standpoint. Criticism on the representatives of the own people, attempts to empathize with the position of the other party—in a one-sentence summary we could call this a dislike of a claire-obscure approach. This is possibly one of the largest contributions the Bible makes to a “theology of peace”. The paradox of some “peace theologies”, is that they do not further their own cause by promoting a claire-obscure approach and making a strong opposition between Jewish-Christian, Old-New Testament, biblical-ancient eastern. This study has shown that the Bible writers on the one hand draw on the body of thought of the common Ancient Near Eastern theol-

9 E. Wiesel, “De jood en de oorlog”, in Woorden zonder wederwoord: Teksten, verhalen, dialogen, Hilversum 1983, 87–101, especially p. 90. The quote has been translated from Dutch.

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ogy of war and peace, while they lay important accents of their own on the other hand. Both remarks carry equal weight. A contemporary theology of peace will therefore have to guard against one-sidedness as one of the largest threats for peace. Whether we are speaking of contrasts between Jews and Christians, between the West and the Islamic world, between Israeli’s and Palestines, between religious and unreligious individuals—a peace theology will always plead for looking at the matter from the perspective of the other. Besides, there are the typical accents of the biblical writers that we came across: not shrinking from criticizing the own leaders, being capable of taking an ironic distance with respect to being right, letting law go before power and looking upon the weakest as the most important touchstone for law. The theology and the church could thereby consider the following critical question from this study: which figure do we resemble most? What perspective do we have? Are we following the contemporary great king in his justification of wars for the benefit of “law and order”, behind which, now as in Antiquity, the safeguarding of domestic interests are hidden? Or do we resemble the priest/prophet who prefers to pass over politics, as long as the church can carry out its work unhindered? Do we prefer to retreat to the cool, scientific remoteness of the chroniqueur who is happiest writing thick dissertations? Are we closest to the exile, the “stranger and sojourner” who wants to stand up for those who are most vulnerable? When we speak about war and peace, of what nature are our words? Protest or propaganda? The last words of this study are for Elie Wiesel: “War is a disaster, not a solution”, and: “When people are waging war, God is their first victim.”10

10

E. Wiesel, “De jood en de oorlog”, p. 92 and 88.

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SCRIPTURE INDEX Genesis 7:11 8:2 11:1 19:37 22:1–19 28:11 49:26

203 203 470 187 187 151 16

Exodus 1:14 4:22–23 6:9 7:20 12 14 14–15 14:14 14:19–20 14:24 15 15:3 15:18 17:16 22:15 23:2 24:17

102, 292 187 n. 145 102 187 257 3 n. 7, 4, 17, 20 27, 129 458 n. 283 68 68 23, 315 21 23 8 n. 21 151 n. 101 149 n. 100, 170 341 n. 64

Leviticus 23:33–44 26:29 27:21, 28–29

185 221 129

n. 170 n. 170 n. 312 n. 102

Numbers 1:53 11:12 16:46 18:5 20 21:14 24:13

195 n. 159 163 n. 113 195 n. 159 195 n. 159 185, 187, 292 8 n. 21 160

Deuteronomy 2 2:9 4:24 8:8–10

297 192, 196 341 n. 64 256, 292

9:3 12:11 13:1–5 16 16:13 17:14–20 17:17–18 18:21–22 20 20:1 20:10–12 20:16–18 20:19–20 28:52–57 28:54, 56 29:28 30:19 31:9–29 33:27

341 n. 64 559 n. 408 162, 291 128 222 25 86, 240 162, 291, 302 25 222, 290, 292 243 n. 237 117 n. 52 186, 191, 291, 295 221, 292 163 n. 113 195–196 n. 159 256 185, 291 327

Joshua 1:11 6 6:26 9:20 10 10:11, 12 10:12 22:20 24

113 n. 47 128, 186, 292 186 195 n. 159 2, 20 68 68, 151 n. 102 195 n. 159 16

Judges 4 4–5 5 5:14 5:17 5:21 5:23 5:31 10:1–5 11:3 11:28 12:7–15 19–21 19

20–21, 595 n. 449 129, 291 2, 22, 595 n. 449 15 15 178 12, 23 327 n. 42 16 16 16 16 12 n. 35 9, 12 n. 35, 222

702 1 Samuel 4 4–5 4:21–22 7 8 8:5 9:16 10:27 11 13:2 15

scripture index

15:6 17 17:47 18 18:6–7 18:17 25:28 28

34 253 n. 252, 327 32 20 102 24 24 383 n. 136 12 n. 35, 383 n. 136 12 13, 117 n. 52, 129, 137, 383 n. 136 19 255, 292 8 n. 21 93 n. 24 315 8 n. 21 8 n. 21 130, 292, 379

2 Samuel 5:1–5 5:17–25 7:14 11–1 Kon. 2 12 12:1–4 12:3, 8 20:1 22:12, 14 24 24:11

102 21 26 29 129, 135, 435 n. 258 21 163 n. 113 102 68 13 379 n. 134

1 Kings 1:2 3 3:7 3:9 3:20 5:2–5 8 8:2 8:27–53 8:44–51 8:64–65 11–14 11:12, 13 11:26 11:26–40 11:29–39

346 n. 79 220–221, 226, 292 379 101–102, 295 163 n. 113 87 86, 240 n. 230, 292, 294 185 256 87 185 107, 109 252 n. 248 93 102 95

11:32, 34 11:38 11:43 12:1–24 13 14 14:19 14:25–26 15:4 15:9–24 15:18 16:30–33 16:34 18 18–19 18:5 18:15 18:19 18:29, 36 18:37 18:43–44 19:18 20

20:13 20:16 20:28 20:29 20:31–34 20:35–43 20:33 20:34 20:42 20:42–43 21 21:27 22:1–38 22:4 22:6 22:7 22:8 22:12 22:15 22:48

252 n. 248 102 93 n. 25, 94 91 108, 252 n. 248 130 85 85 252 n. 248 240 85 n. 3 296 186 127 n. 64, 160, 184–185 127 n. 64 185 185 140 n. 81, 152, 160 185 127, 288 128 128 24, 117–118, 118 n. 59, 119, 130, 139 n. 80, 147, 149, 151, 157–159, 159 n. 105, 166, 168–169, 177, 183–184, 220, 242, 648, 670 354 n. 86, 380 185 295, 354 n. 86 184 472 473 159 166 150, 157–159 6 161 207 n. 173 118 n. 59, 139, 140 n. 81 184 354 n. 86 184 79, 295 354 n. 86 80, 354 n. 86 174, 174 n. 118

scripture index 2 Kings 1:1 2:11, 12 3

3:7 3:10 3:13 3:18 4 5 5:15 6 6–7 6:24–29 7 7:6 8:16 8:19 8:22 10:32–33 12 12:1–21 12:18 13 13:7 13:14–19 13:14–21 13:14–25 13:25 14:1–22 14:6 14:14 14:25 14:27 15:19–20 16:8 17:1–23 17:13 17:31 18–19

178, 275 129 7, 87, 135, 158, 160, 173, 174 n. 18, 174–175, 183–187, 192, 197, 208, 219, 268 n. 274, 304 n. 1, 309 n. 16, 310–311, 312 n. 22, 339 n. 59, 683 159, 379 354 n. 86, 670 140 n. 81, 219, 354 n. 86 354 n. 86 219 208, 218, 226, 292, 342 n. 66 226 220–221, 252 123, 129–130, 195, 197 n. 161, 218, 683 342 n. 66 220 341 n. 65 174 n. 121 252 n. 149 174, 309 n. 16 312 86 240 85 n. 3 130 310 n. 17 129 207 118 368 240 107 85 n. 3 368 253 85, 85 n. 3 85 n. 3 187 n. 144 184, 379 n. 134 253 n. 251 87 n. 9, 129–130, 137, 238, 242, 246, 253, 255, 257, 260, 260 n. 269, 399, 410 n. 191, 433

703

20:6 21:3 22 22:19–20 24:13–17

n. 251, 472, 479 n. 322, 675, 683–684 85, 85 n. 3, 86, 253 421, 668 354 n. 86 380 354 n. 86 396 n. 167, 419 n. 216, 468 n. 305 86, 237, 239, 392 n. 152 252 n. 249 362 n. 96 86, 240, 559 n. 408 107 85 n. 3, 86

Job 1–2 29:2–3

142 n. 82, 161 447 n. 275

Psalms 24 47 47:3 47:4 48:3 95:3

18 18 259 26 259 259

Isaiah 1:7 2:7 2:8 5:7 6 7:3 7:17 8:16 9:6 10:5 10:5–6 10:8 10:8–11 10:9 10:13 10:15 10:27 13–14 14:7–8 14:25 20:1–6 21–22

73 13 255 n. 255 441 n. 264 161 254 96 n. 31 379 255 51 n. 119 254 73 255 257 73 255 73 237 73 73 254 392 n. 152

18:14–16 18:25 18:30, 33 19:4–6 19:10 19:37 20

704 26:11 30:1–5 30:15 31:1 31:1–3 31:3 36–37 36–39 36:7 37:21–35 40 41:29 42:13 43:1–8 44:6–20 44:28–45:4 48:5 59:17 63:15 Jeremiah 5:13 10:1–16 16:20 20:7, 10 26:17 27–28 28 37:1–10

scripture index 255 254 254, 458 n. 283 13, 81, 129, 290 254 244 n. 238 255, 258 n. 260, 292, 472, 675, 684 239 545 433 255 235 n. 214 255 443 n. 266 255 547 235 n. 214 255 255

161 161 161 161 161 161 161 161 161

Zechariah 9:1

364 n. 100

Malachi 1:14 4:10

259 447 n. 275

Ruth 4:16

163 n. 113

Daniel 1–5 143 n. 83 255 n. 255 255 n. 255 151 n. 101 162 n. 110 103 152, 160, 292 257, 258 n. 260

Ezekiel 1: 4, 27 14 17:15 29:3–4 29:6–7 31

427 n. 229 160 54 258 254 258

Joel 4:2–3

342

Micah 1:7

1:2 2:2 2:11 2:12 3:4 3:5–12 4:13 6:16 7:14

161

4:10, 14, 20 5

540 n. 385, 541 n. 385, 544, 557 n. 406 447 n. 275 557 n. 406

Ezra 4–6

627 n. 493

Nehemiah 4:7

392 n. 152

2 Chronicles 11:16–17 17:11 18:3 21:16 35

93 392 n. 152 139 n. 80 392 n. 152 130

Mark 9:2–13

129 n. 68

INDEX OF CITED EXTRA-BIBLICAL TEXTS Adapa Myth 445, 534, 537, 557–559, 569 Akitu-Chronicle 624, 626, 631, 652 Annals of Ashurbanipal 303, 493 Annals of Sennacherib 303, 387, 417, 422, 530, 643 Annals of Sargon II 590 Atrahasis 103, 562–563 Azitawadda Inscription (KAI 26) 334 n. 49, 362 n. 95, 378

Gilgamesh Epic 523 n. 371

Babylonian Chronicle 395, 405 n. 184, 540, 552, 603, 604 n. 454, 605 nn. 457–459, 606 nn. 460, 462, 607 n. 465, 608, 618, 626, 628 n. 494 Barrakib Inscription (KAI 216) 354 n. 87 Barrakib Inscription (KAI 217) 344 Berossus’ Babyloniaca 30 n. 66

Letters of Assyrian Scholars (LAS) 33, 532

Codex Hammurabi 593–594 Collection of Assyrian Proverbs 458 n. 284 Cyrus Cylinder 303, 338, 534 n. 377, 540 n. 382, 541, 546, 576 n. 431, 577, 579, 590, 601, 626 n. 491, 632, 641–642, 645–648, 652–653, 657–658, 662 n. 2, 667–668, 670, 678–680, 684

Nabonidus and his god 533 Nabonidus’ Sippar Cylinder 561 Nabopolassar Inscription 578 Nebukadnessar Inscriptions 540 n. 386

Dedication inscription to Marduk 588 n. 443 Dynastic Prophecy 541 n. 386 Enuma Anu Enlil 537, 559–560 Enuma Elish 415–416, 651–652 Erra Epic 445, 519, 519 nn. 368–369, 520, 522–523, 530–531, 652 Er.ša.ḫun.ga 485, 485 n. 327, 486, 486 nn. 328–329, 487 n. 331, 488, 500, 651 Esarhaddon Chronicle 33, 303, 467, 603, 604 n. 453, 605 n. 459, 607 n. 464, 608, 618, 632, 638–639, 648–649, 651–652, 680 Etana Legend 414

Hadad Statue (KAI 214) 378 Herodotus’ Historia 662 Jeḫawmilk Stela (KAI 10) 379 Kulamuwa Inscription (KAI 24) 23, 314, 339, 345, 347, 358, 362, 367, 640, 653

Melqart Stela (KAI 201) 378–379 Merodach-Baladan II Cylinder 237, 237 n. 220, 239, 392 n. 152, 590 Mesha Stela (KAI 181) 6, 33, 174, 309, 311

Panamuwwa II Inscription (KAI 215) 378 Pessimistic Dialogue 479 n. 323 Prayer of Nabonidus (4Q242) 561 Prophecies to Esarhaddon 303, 641, 651, 653, 655, 669, 679 Prophecies of Marduk and Shulgi 446 n. 272 Queries to the Sungod 391 n. 150, 517 n. 362 The reconstruction of E-LUGALGALGA-SISA by Nabonidus 543 Report to Ashur by Esarhaddon 45, 468, 472, 529, 610 n. 476, 632, 639, 647, 649–651, 653, 658, 670, 674 Report to Ashur by Sennacherib 485, 658 Report to Ashur by Sargon II 467

706

index of cited extra-biblical texts

The sin of Sargon II 237 n. 218 Verse Account 303, 315, 540 n. 382, 541, 541 n. 385, 543 n. 391, 544, 544 n. 393, 545–546, 546 n. 400–401, 548, 559–562, 562 n. 415, 563–564, 569, 577, 579 n. 436, 585, 590, 595, 610 n. 476, 632, 639, 641–642, 645,

648, 652–653, 658, 662 n. 2, 669, 670, 678–681 Xenophon’s Persian War 540 Zakkur Inscription (KAI 202) 368, 369 n. 119, 377, 379, 385–386, 402, 581, 642–643, 647, 655

Studia Semitica Neerlandica www.brill.nl/ssn ISSN 0081-6914

Studia Semitica Neerlandica comprises of studies on the linguistics and literature of one the Semitic languages or the Semitic languages as a whole. Studies on texts written in one of the Semitic languages or texts that deal with the history and culture of groups speaking a Semitic language also fall within the scope of this series. 18. Koster, M.D. The Peshitta of Exodus. The development of its text in the course of fifteen centuries. 1997. ISBN 978 90 232 1503 5 23. Fokkelman, J.P. Narrative Art and Poetry in the Books of Samuel. A full interpretation based on stylistic and structural analyses Volume II. The crossing fates (I Sam. 13-31 & II Sam. 1). 1986. ISBN 978 90 232 2175 3 24. Regt, L.J. de. A Parametric Model for Syntactic Studies of a Textual Corpus. Demonstrated on the Hebrew of Deuteronomy 1-30. 1988. ISBN 978 90 232 2381 8 26. Fontaine, T.A.M. In Defence of Judaism: Abraham Ibn Daud. Sources and Structure of ha-Emunah ha-Ramah. 1990. ISBN 978 90 232 2404 4 27. Fokkelman, J.P. Narrative Art and Poetry in the Books of Samuel. A full interpretation based on stylistic and structural analysis Volume III. Throne and City (II Sam. 2-8 & 21-24). 1990. ISBN 978 90 232 2546 1 28. Verhey, A.J.C. Verbs and Numbers. A Study of the Frequencies of the Hebrew Verbal Tense Forms in the Books of Samuel, Kings and Chronicles. 1990. ISBN 978 90 232 2572 0 29. Siebesma, P.A. The Function of the niph'al in Biblical Hebrew. In relationship to other passive-reflexive verbal sytems and to the pu'al and hoph'al in particular. 1991. ISBN 978 90 232 2594 2 31. Fokkelman, J.P. Narrative Art and Poetry in the Books of Samuel. A full interpretation based on stylistic and structural analyses Volume IV. Vow and desire (I.Sam. 1-12). 1993. ISBN 978 90 232 2738 0 32. Endo, Y. The Verbal System of Classical Hebrew in the Joseph Story. An Approach form Discourse Analysis. 1996. ISBN 978 90 232 3093 9 33. Kouwenberg, N.J.C. Gemination in the Akkadian Verb. 1997. ISBN 978 90 232 3255 1 34. Rodrigues Pereira, A.S. Studies in Aramaic Poetry (c.100 B.C.E.-c. 600 C.E). Selected Jewish, Christian and Samaritan Poems. 1997. ISBN 978 90 232 3260 5 35. Johnson Lim Teng Kok. The Sin of Moses and the Staff of God. A Narrative Approach. 1997. ISBN 978 90 232 3261 2 36. Rosenbaum, M. Word-order Variation in Isaiah 40-55. A Functional Perspective. 1998. ISBN 978 90 232 3262 9 37. Fokkelman, J.P. Major Poems of the Hebrew Bible at the Interface of Hermeneutics and Structural Analysis. Volume I: Ex. 15, Deut. 32, and Job 3. 1998. ISBN 978 90 232 3367 1 38. Coetzee, A.W. Tiberian Hebrew Phonology. Focussing on consonant clusters. 1999. ISBN 978 90 232 3431 9

39. Regt, L.J. de. Participants in Old Testament Texts and the Translator. Reference Devices and their Rhetorical Impact. 1999. ISBN 978 90 232 3444 9 40. Abma, R. Bonds of Love. Methodic Studies of Prophetic Texts with Marriage Imagery (Isaiah 50: 1-3 and 54: 1-10, Hosea 1-3, Jeremiah 2-3). 1999. ISBN 978 90 232 3509 5 41. Fokkelman, J.P. Major Poems of the Hebrew Bible. At the interface of Prosody and Structural Analysis - Volume II: 85 Psalms and Job 4-14. 2000. ISBN 978 90 232 3381 7 42. Kessler, M. Battle of the Gods: The God of Israel Versus Marduk of Babylon. A Literary / Theological Interpretation of Jeremiah 50-51. 2003. ISBN 978 90 232 3909 3 43. Fokkelman, J.P. Major Poems of the Hebrew Bible. At the interface of Prosody and Structutal Analysis - Volume III: The Remaining 65 Psalms. 2003. ISBN 978 90 232 3936 9 44. Rogland, M. Alleged Non-Past Uses of Qatal in Classical Hebrew. 2003. ISBN 978 90 232 3973 4 45. Shepherd, D. Targum and Translation. A Reconsideration of the Qumran Aramaic Version of Job. 2004. ISBN 978 90 232 4017 4 46. Kalimi, I. An Ancient Israelite Historian. Studies in the Chronicler, His Time, Place and Writing. 2005. ISBN 978 90 232 4071 6 47. Fokkelman, J.P. Major Poems of the Hebrew Bible. At the Interface of Prosody and Structural Analysis - Volume IV: Job 15-42. 2004. ISBN 978 90 232 4072 3 48. Keulen, P.S.F. van and W.Th. van Peursen. Corpus Linguistics and Textual History. 2006. ISBN 978 90 232 4194 2 49. Malessa, M. Untersuchungen zur verbalen Valenz im biblischen Hebräisch. 2006. ISBN 978 90 232 4240 6 50. Zaman, L. Bible and Canon. A Modern Historical Inquiry. 2008. ISBN 978 90 04 16743 8 51. Deijl, A. van der. Protest or Propaganda. War in the Old Testament Book of Kings and in Contemporaneous Ancient Near Eastern Texts. 2008. ISBN 978 90 04 16855 8 52. Beentjes, P.C. Tradition and Transformation in the Book of Chronicles. Forthcoming 2008. ISBN 978 90 04 17044 5