Scribes, Sages, and Seers: The Sage in the Eastern Mediterranean World 9783666530838, 9783525530832

Citation preview

Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments Herausgegeben von Dietrich-Alex Koch, Matthias Köckert, Christopher Tuckett und Steven McKenzie

Band 219

Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht

Leo G. Perdue (ed.)

Scribes, Sages, and Seers The Sage in the Eastern Mediterranean World

Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht

Bibliografische Information der Deutschen Nationalbibliothek Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet über http://dnb.d-nb.de abrufbar. ISBN 978-3-525-53083-2

© 2008, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht GmbH & Co. KG, Göttingen / www.v-r.de Alle Rechte vorbehalten. Das Werk und seine Teile sind urheberrechtlich geschützt. Jede Verwertung in anderen als den gesetzlich zugelassenen Fällen bedarf der vorherigen schriftlichen Einwilligung des Verlages. Hinweis zu § 52a UrhG: Weder das Werk noch seine Teile dürfen ohne vorherige schriftliche Einwilligung des Verlages öffentlich zugänglich gemacht werden. Dies gilt auch bei einer entsprechenden Nutzung für Lehr- und Unterrichtszwecke. Printed in Germany. Satz: OLD-Media OHG, Neckarsteinach. Druck- und Bindung: b Hubert & Co, Göttingen. Gedruckt auf alterungsbeständigem Papier.

Table of Contents

Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . VII I. Introduction to Scribes, Sages, and Seers Sages, Scribes, and Seers in Israel and the Ancient Near East: An Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Leo G. Perdue

1

II. Scribes, Sages, and Seers in Ancient Egypt Knowledge and Knowledgeable Men in Ancient Egypt: Queries and Arguments about an Unsettled Issue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Thomas Schneider

35

III. Scribes, Sages, and Seers in Ancient Mesopotamia Scribes and Wisdom in Ancient Mesopotamia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bendt Alster Tales of Two Sages – Towards an Image of the “Wise Man” in Akkadian Writings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Victor Avigdor Hurowitz

47

64

IV. Scribes, Sages, and Seers in Ugarit and Syria Scribes, Sages, and Seers in Ugarit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ignacio Márquez Rowe

95

The Aramaic Tradition: Ahikar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ingo Kottsieper

109

V. Scribes, Sages, and Seers in First Temple Israel Scribes, Sages, and Seers in the First Temple . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Katharine Dell

125

VI

Table of Contents

VI. Scribes, Sages, and Seers in Second Temple Judah The Authors of Job and Their Historical and Social Setting . . . . . . . Konrad Schmid

145

Wisdom as a Hermeneutical Key to the Book of Psalms . . . . . . . . . . Manfred Oeming

154

Ezra – Priest and Scribe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Reinhard G. Kratz

163

The Social World of Ecclesiastes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Choon-Leong Seow

189

The Sociological Significance of the Scribe as the Teacher of Wisdom in Ben Sira . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Friederich V. Reiterer

218

VII. Scribes, Sages, and Seers in the Greek and Roman Empires The Sage Behind the Wisdom of Solomon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Michael Kolarcik, S. J.

245

Seers as Mantic Sages in Jewish Apocalyptic (Daniel and Enoch) . . Andreas Bedenbender

258

Sages and Scribes in the Qumran Literature . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Armin Lange

271

VIII. Scribes, Sages, and Seers and the Transition to Rabbinic Judaism Sages, Scribes, and Seers in Rabbinic Judaism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Günter Stemberger

295

Contributors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

320

Abbreviations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

322

Index of Biblical Texts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

325

Index of Pseudepigrapha, Non-Biblical, Ancient Literature . . . . . . .

331

Author Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

344

Preface

In interpreting the wisdom literatures of the ancient Near East, one question looms large. Who were the sages, scribes, and seers who composed this literature? Other issues emerge from this question and the variety of answers set forth. These include the locations of the wise in the sociopolitical and religious institutions in which they may have functioned: the royal court, the state administration, the judiciary, schools of various types, temples, synagogues, colonial governments, ethnic populations, and sectarian communities. It is clear that the wise often were educated people, either wealthy or in service to those who were, and articulated the significant elements of proper character, knowledge, insight, and moral discernment that were indigenous to the wisdom tradition. The thesis of this collection is that the sapiential literature of the ancient Near East views the sages, scribes, and seers as social groups of educated men and women with identifiable linguistic and rhetorical features, world views, and sets of virtues. Insupportable is the contention that the wise were a group of aristocratic intelligentsia who discussed moral and theological issues at leisure. Rather, sages, scribes, and seers were normally professional officials, administrators, counselors, and teachers in the principal sociopolitical institutions of the various cultures and kingdoms of the ancient Near East. These roles ranged from minor scribes, for example, archivists and copyists, to powerful officials serving in the royal court and to leaders and participants in sectarian communities. The sages developed a tradition that contains the salient features of their teachings about the cosmos, society, and human nature and behavior. The common tradition that developed and changed over the centuries gave shape to their self-understanding, virtuous behavior, and social roles pursued in a variety of communal spheres. This tradition was not only taught in a variety of different school settings in the form of a curriculum, but also by study and reflection pursued by accomplished scribes and sages. By embodying and living out these teachings, the wise came to exist in harmony with the gods of creation and providence, the cosmos, and society. Their teachings, character, and behavior participated in stabilizing the world in which they took up residence and lived. This collection of essays brings into a single volume a number of comprehensive studies concerning the social character of the wise in the ancient Near East. These authors offer us numerous insights about the

VIII

Preface

wise in a variety of different cultures, beginning in the third millennium B. C. E. and concluding in the rabbinic period. The international flavor of the volume strengthens its quality, since some of the very best scholars of wisdom literature in Europe, Israel, and North America have been assembled to compose these essays. I am grateful to the authors for their labors in putting together contemporary research and socio-textual analysis of the wise and wisdom literature in the cultures represented. I am also indebted to several individuals who assisted in the editing of this volume and in improving its content, style, and form in important ways. These include Jörg Persch, Editorial Director of Theology and Religion of V & R, Tina Bruns, Editor of Theology and Religion of V & R, and Amy Justice, who serves as my graduate assistant at the Divinity School. She assisted in many ways in the putting together of this collection assisted with compiling and checking the bibliographical references. Finally, Dyan Dietz, a graduate student at the Divinity School. Two other graduate assistants prepared the author index (Katharine Low) and the list of non-biblical texts (Ching-An Yeh). I would be remiss if I did not extend my warm gratitude to each of these professionals and colleagues for their careful and skillful labors.

I. Introduction to Scribes, Sages, and Seers

Leo G. Perdue

Sages, Scribes, and Seers in Israel and the Ancient Near East: An Introduction Introduction to the Collection This collection of essays seeks to understand the social roles and locations of sages, scribes, and seers in Israel and the eastern Mediterranean world from the third millennium B. C. E. to the Tannaitic and Amoraic periods of early Judaism. The operating assumption driving this volume is the view that the wisdom tradition cannot be understood apart from the larger social history of the cultures in which it took root and flourished and the more particular position that the understandings and changing roles of sages assumed their shape and transmuted within a variety of social locations over the centuries within each culture. This assumption is grounded theoretically in philosophical realism that seeks to reconstruct social roles and locations from the literature and material cultures of the nations and ethnic groups that comprised this geographical region. In operating with this approach, these essays stand in direct opposition to idealism, which has dominated most research concerning biblical wisdom literature for the past century. Idealism understands the teachings of the sages as disconnected ideas that are seen by their creators as eternal thoughts understood to be true.1 Another view of the sages related to the focus on sapiential ideas in effect has disembodied the sages. This understanding denies to the sages any semblance of a social context, role, and tradition. This view presents the sages as something of a club of wealthy farmers who, due to their 1  See H. Schmid: Wesen und Geschichte der Weisheit. Eine Untersuchung zur altorientalischen und israelitischen Weisheitsliteratur, BZAW 101, Berlin 1966, and later his Habilitationsschrift, Gerechtigkeit als Weltordnung. Hintergrund und Geschichte der alttestamentlichen Gerechtigkeitsbegriffes, BHT 40, Tübingen 1968. Even this early, he convincingly argues against the prevailing understanding of an imposed idealism that has provided the interpretative matrix for the sages’ view of their teachings.

2

Leo G. Perdue

leisurely lives, possessed the time, education, and skill to engage through reason and experience a variety of views in order to assess what was true. The only bases for determining the more compelling perspective of two or more conflicting positions were the cogency of the argumentation, the testing of assertions in the arena of personal experience, and the reference to a non-authoritative past of earlier, revered, sages and traditions. 2 Thus, the literature they composed was an intellectual tradition of learned owners of large estates who came together in some undefined location to discuss sophisticated, philosophical issues. This view implicitly draws on the Roman portrait of the patrician’s life presented in almost utopian terms found in the letter of Pliny the Younger to Fuscus. In this letter, Pliny describes the leisurely life of the wealthy landowner, whose day was one of indulgent self-occupation, performing the political and social duties of his class and engaging in the activities of reading, writing, and study (Pliny, Ep 9.36). The social categories of the roles and locations of sages and institutions shaping the wisdom tradition have been investigated on rare occasions. The best example is that of the collection of essays John Gammie and I edited in 1990, The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East.3 And there are other studies, including the general treatment by Joseph Blenkinsopp that examines the three major social groups in ancient Israel (sage, priest, and prophet).4 Others are those by James L. Crenshaw on education, C. L. Seow on Qoheleth, Christine Schams on sages and scribes in the Second Temple, and John J. Collins on Hellenistic Jewish wisdom. These are important exceptions to this general avoidance of the social history of wisdom literature.5 The present collection attempts to build on earlier work of these and other studies by examining in more detail the various cultures, texts, and social roles of sages and scribes of Israel and the other nations 2  R. Whybray: The Intellectual Tradition in the Old Testament, BZAW 135, Berlin/New York 1974. However, Whybray’s opposition to the existence of a definable social group of sages, while more emphatic, is not significantly different from the views of many of the important interpreters of wisdom literature, including Gerhard von Rad and Roland Murphy, in that they too have little, if anything, to say either about the sages as a social group or about the social locations of the wisdom literature. 3  J. Gammie/L. Perdue (eds.), The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, Winona Lake, IN 1990. 4  J. Blenkinsopp: Sage, Priest, Prophet. Religious and Intellectual Leadership in Ancient Israel, LAI, Louisville, KY 1996. 5  J. Crenshaw: Education in Ancient Israel. Across the Deadening Silence, New York 1998; C. Seow: Ecclesiastes, AB 18c, New York 1997; C. Schams: Jewish Scribes in the Second-Temple Period, JSOTSup 291, Sheffield 1998; and J. Collins: Jewish Wisdom in the Hellenistic Age, OTL, Louisville, KY 1997. Of course, there are brief essays and articles, but these volumes represent the best and most extensive of the efforts to investigate wisdom literature within its socio-cultural milieux.



Introduction

3

and peoples of the ancient Near East, with some attention given to the seers who either formulated the tradition of mantic wisdom or blended wisdom and prophecy into a new social role in apocalyptic. Studies of wisdom literatures in the cultures of the ancient Near East that span from the Early Bronze Age through the end of the Hellenistic Empires to the early centuries of Imperial Rome (3,100 B. C. E.–200 C. E.) have proliferated over the past half-century. This surge of new scholarship is largely the result of three factors: continuing archaeological discoveries of the material and literary cultures of the Fertile Crescent and the larger Eastern Mediterranean world; the steady increase in the knowledge of their languages and literatures; and the development of greater methodological sophistication in the areas of sociology and social knowledge. It is clear that the sages of these cultures were those who helped craft and then transmit the literary traditions and arts of civilization, including language, the shape of social and religious institutions, the sciences, and the arts.

Sages and Scribes of Israel and Judah The scribes (‫ )ספר‬and sages (‫ )חכם‬of Israel and Judah comprised a professional social class of intellectuals, composers, officials, and clerks from their origins in the monarchic period until the emergence of Rabbinic Judaism during the early centuries of the Common Era (the Tannaitic and Amoraic periods). The common view of these essays on various Biblical texts is that the primary shapers of culture were professional scribes and sages, who in their literary sources emerging from several social contexts shaped a body of texts of numerous types that included those that comprised what became the wisdom tradition. As intellectuals, the sages discussed substantial issues that included creation, justice as cosmic and social order, retribution, theodicy, the suffering of the righteous, the nature and character of God, and moral behavior. As writers, the sages also composed a number of texts that have survived as canonical and deuterocanonical literature, including Proverbs, Job, the Wisdom Psalms, Qoheleth, Ben Sira, and the Wisdom of Solomon. As officials and clerks the scribes participated in the administration of courts and temples that were central to the socio-religious lives of ancient Israel and early Judah. Non-canonical texts consisted of sapiential literature that may be identified by their literary genres in Qumran, thus indicating the presence of sages and scribes influenced by the earlier wisdom tradition they inherited. In addition, the existence of wisdom forms and other features of sapiential discourse in numerous texts of the Hebrew Bible and the Apocrypha indicate that the sages and scribes were responsible for the editing of canonical and non-canonical literature and likely served as archivists preserving texts in libraries (cf., e. g., the Elephantine

4

Leo G. Perdue

Papyri). It is clear that sages and scribes in Israel also interacted with the major empires and nations of this period, including eventually Egypt, Assyria, Babylon, Persia, Hellenistic Greece, and Rome. These interactions consisted of written and spoken communication between royal courts and common participation in international commerce. During the Second Temple, the sages and scribes shifted their primary social location from the court to the temple. Indeed, provincial governors would have required the services of scribes in the conducting of official business and in communication with the imperial center, but the evidence in the canonical and deutero-canonical texts (cf. Ezra, the Wisdom Psalms, and Ben Sira) centers on the scribes and sages who primarily served under the hierarchy of the priesthood in Jerusalem. Of course, other provincial and cultic geographical locations, e. g., Elephantine, also had their literati who were active in both the political and cultic centers where traditions were written and redacted. During the rule of the Hellenistic kings, beginning with the Ptolemies, and then the Seleucids, followed by the early empire of Rome, many of the sages and scribes came to locate their activities in the synagogues of the various Jewish communities and sects (see, e. g., Qumran). With the collapse of the Jewish revolts against Rome, sages and scribes morphed into the Rabbis of the Tannaitic and then Amoraic periods.

Sages, Scribes, and Seers in their Social Locations There is a distinction made between sage and scribe in the Tanakh. The adjective, wise (‫)חכם‬, refers to anyone who possesses a particular skill or specialized knowledge, including, for example, artisans and scribes. The noun, sage (‫)חכם‬, often defines a specialized class of scribes, counselors, teachers, legal officials (judges and lawyers), archivists, secretaries, recorders, and writers. This term, however, appears as a title of both a profession and honor, reserved for those who were especially astute in their powers of judgment and well known in tradition for their mastery of wisdom as both an epistemology and a body of knowledge. Educated in a variety of social settings (school, family, and guild) the wise articulated and defined a series of virtues that they sought to incorporate in their behavior and their work. They served monarchs, priests, and aristocrats, and taught not only the rhetorical skills of reading, writing, and composition, but also moral philosophy issuing from and based on observations of the cosmos, human experience, and eventually the divinely revealed instructions of Torah. The sages also shaped and edited the canonical, deuterocanonical, and pseudepigraphal literature of ancient Israel and Judaism and formed the bridge to the Tannaim who taught and eventually wrote down the



Introduction

5

teachings of the Mishnah. Later rabbis, beginning with the Amoraim, continued their writings until the literature transmuted into Halakhah, Haggadah, and philosophical essays.6

The Sage in the Israelite Court During the First Temple, officials and scribes served in the Israelite and Judahite administrations, while, in the Second Temple, with the locus of power shifting to imperial centers, service to the gubernatorial administration and the temple, as two distinct institutions, became the twin contexts for their social roles. During the First Temple, the king himself was the sage par excellence (e. g., see especially Solomon and Hezekiah, e. g., Prov 25:1). It may have been that important offices of administrative leadership were hereditary (see the family of Shaphan, 2 Kgs 22, Jer 26:24, 29:3, and 40–41). The sages who entered the halls of power filled the roles of advisors to kings and assumed the responsibilities of secretaries of various administrative units (temple, palace, legal court system, military, and finance). Ordinary scribes comprised the rank and file who read and wrote, usually at dictation, documents and correspondence, not only in Hebrew but also Aramaic. They likely were trained in what were the major languages of their periods, including Akkadian, Egyptian, other West Semitic languages and, of course, in the Graeco-Roman era, Greek and Latin, in order to perform the duties associated with diplomacy, international correspondence, and the study of the literatures of other cultures.

The Sage in the Temple Administration Surviving Egyptian records demonstrate that the sages and scribes of the royal dynasties were active in the court, the royal administration, and the temple (working in the attached school known as the “House of Life”). The temple scribes kept sacrificial and financial records, managed temple gifts and property, and maintained archives (cf., e. g., see Amenemopet and his son). Similar scribes likely administered Jewish temples in Lachish, Samaria, Jordan, and Egypt (Leontopolis and Elephantine). They were involved in the codification and interpretation of law codes, including both Deuteronomy and the Priestly code in Israelite socio-religious history, 6  For a survey of late wisdom texts and sages in early Judaism, see Charles Perrot: Chapitre XI. Le sages et la sagesse dans le judaïsme ancien, in: Jacques Trublet (ed.), La Sagesse Biblique de l’Ancien au Nouveau Testament: actes du XVe Congrès de l’ACFEB, Lectio Divina 160, Paris 1993, 231–262.

6

Leo G. Perdue

and some, including a class of literate Levites, were among the circles of temple personnel. Scribes assisted in the collection, redaction, and archiving of temple records and texts.

The Sage in Babylonian Captivity While our knowledge of the exilic period in both Babylonia and Eretz Israel is quite limited, the captivity provided sages additional opportunity to become better acquainted with Akkadian and royal Aramaic and thus more familiar with the Mesopotamian mythical and other literary traditions. It is likely that many traditions and early forms of the traditions and books of First Temple Judah were preserved, redacted, and expanded during the exile, including a preliminary configuration of the priestly and Deuteronomistic documents, Isaiah, and the Book of Job. The preservation of literary culture served to conserve religion and knowledge from dissolution. Due to the presence of scribes in the Babylonian administration who knew Aramaic and hailed from various West Semitic nations, some of the sages and scribes of exiled Judah could have served in the Babylonian political regime, since their native knowledge of Aramaic, which became the lingua franca of the ancient Near East during the late Assyrian empire, would have made them invaluable to the Babylonian court. The literary and thematic parallels of Job especially with Akkadian disputations would best be explained as an important consequence of some of the learned sages’ presence in captivity and service in the Babylonian government. With the end of the Davidic monarchy and temporary loss of the temple, the sages became more independent as a class of professionals in Babylon. They still would have come under the authority of Jewish governors and priests following the return and continuing into the Second Temple, but this growing cohesion as a distinct social group would have shaped them into a more identifiable class. Those who chose to stay in Babylon following the Persian conquest also developed a learned group of scholars and teachers who eventually produced the Babylonian Talmud. The poetic Book of Job was likely written by an exiled sage who appropriated the earlier Folk-Tale and composed a poetic disputation that included debates between the three wise friends and the sage Job. The conclusion of the poetic book consists of the Speeches from the Whirlwind and the two brief responses by Job. The compelling character of the book is such that later scribes continued to respond to its views, leading to the additions of the poem on Wisdom and the speeches of Elihu. Later compositions included the Targum of Job and the Testament of Job. This points to an ongoing tradition that must have been shaped in a circle of sages with a continuing wisdom tradition into the Common Era.



Introduction

7

The sage depicted in the poetic book consists of two types: the friends of Job who, basing their instructions to their opponent on traditional wisdom teaching concerning justice and retribution, serve as both teachers and counselors. Job, the radical sage, speaks out of his own outrage at his mistreatment and assaults due to traditional scribal theology. The likely setting for this literary creation would have been a sapiential school designed to educate scribes to continue the traditions of the past and to reformulate them to meet new social circumstances. In this setting, teachers would have debated the responses to the devastation of the exile.

The Sage in the Second Temple: The Schriftgelehrter In the Persian satrapy of Abar-Nahara, the Jewish sages of the Second Temple developed a strong professional association that expanded into many roles. The most important one for the development of Judaism was the Schriftgelehrter (“scholar of literature”) who assumed the important role of the formation and interpretation of what became the Torah (see especially Ezra, Nehemiah, and 1 and 2 Chronicles), prophets, and writings. The most important sage portrayed in this collection of literature is Ezra, priest and scribe of the Law of God Most High, who the Second Temple scribes made into a projection of their own ideals and varied functions. Thus, in following other sapiential legends of famous sages, Ezra served as their exemplar. Historically obscure, his role seems to have been similar to the commission of Udjahorresnet by Darius I to codify the laws of Egypt.7 In the literature of the so-called Chronicler (Chronicles, Ezra, and Nehemiah), Ezra also was commissioned to codify and implement an early form of the Torah and to serve as its interpreter. The Torah was to become the basis not only for religious, but also for social life in Judah. A social group of the Levites is presented as working under Ezra to provide the translation into Aramaic for people who did not know Hebrew. Ezra and his protégés are presented as equating an early form of the Torah with wisdom teaching. With the rise in status and power of the Zadokites who assumed the office of high priest and controlled the operation of the temple, the Jewish scribes and sages carried out their tasks under priestly direction.

The Judean Sages in the Period of Hellenization With the conquest of Persia and Egypt by Alexander the Great by 332 B. C. E., the transition to Hellenistic rule of the Jews in both Judah and the 7  J. Blenkinsopp: The Mission of Udjahorresnet and Those of Ezra and Nehemiah, JBL 106 (1987), 409–421.

8

Leo G. Perdue

Diaspora, in particular Egypt, led to important changes in the social character of the scribes and sages. From the evidence of inscriptions of the period, it is clear that Greek became commonly used even in the lower echelon of Jewish society. In Jerusalem and the province of Judah, the Jews became bilingual, knowing and speaking both Greek and Aramaic. Among priests and scribes, Hebrew was also well known, especially in ritual and scribal activities in editing texts and writing new ones, but it was largely a classical language of scholars and traditionalists and not a popular one spoken by the populace in daily discourse. Also appearing were mantic sages who, existing as early as the First Temple, shaped apocalyptic communities. Examples included Enoch, Daniel, and the community of Qumran. The only Jewish sage who may have been active in the period of the Hellenistic rule of Judah is Qoheleth.8 In the epilogue (Qoh 12:9–14), a third person narrator and editor describes Qoheleth as a sage, particularly a teacher who taught “the people” knowledge (a ‫ חכם‬who “taught,” ‫למד‬9 the “people,” ‫עם‬10 “knowledge,” ‫דעת‬11). In addition to teaching, Qoheleth was involved in a variety of scribal activities, including “ordering,” “examining,” and “editing” collections of sayings. These words were to offer instruction and direction to youths in moral philosophy.

The Sage and the Synagogue From the material culture in Egypt,12 evidence for synagogues dates as early as the end of the third century B. C. E., while the Hasmonean synagogue located in Jericho belongs to the late second century B. C. E. Ben Sira was a sage, in particular a Schriftgelehrter who taught in a (synagogue?) school, ‫( בת מדרש‬51:23) that, along with other schools, likely was under the oversight of the High Priest (see Sir 50). While he may have taught the Torah to laity on the Sabbath, his students were probably aristocratic youth who 8  For a strong argument for the Persian dating of Qoheleth based on economic considerations, see the essay by Seow in this volume. His evidence is largely based on archaeological data, the Aramaic texts from Elephantine, and the Persian Fortification texts. 9  For ‫ למד‬as a scribal, sapiential activity that was a role of some of the Levites, see 2 Chron 17:9. 10  The ‫ עם‬could be understood in several ways: “people” (Gen 11:6), “population” of a land or city (Ruth 4:4, 9), “people” in general (Num 21:6), and a “group” of people (Deut 18:3). From the context of both the book and the epilogue, the term best may be understood as a “group” of students who attended the school in which Qoheleth was active. 11  This “knowledge” in a school setting would refer to the curriculum taught to students that ranged from the scribal arts of reading and writing, to tradition, moral teachings, literature, and literary forms. 12  P. Richardson: Building Jewish In The Roman East, JSJSup 920, Leiden 2004, 115–116. See CIJ 2, 1440 f.



Introduction

9

were educated to serve in a variety of professions including law, counsel, and positions in the Jewish administration. Ben Sira is a scribe of Torah (i. e., the covenant of Moses identified with Wisdom 24:23), combines wisdom with salvation history, and places the location of wisdom in the Jerusalem cult. In many ways, he brings together the socio-religious roles and teachings of the sages of Torah in the Second Temple, ranging from the ‫ חכמים ספרים‬of Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic History to Ezra,13 the sage and the “scribe of God Most High.”14 His description of the sage in 38:24–39:11 is our most complete representation of the late Second Temple and Hellenistic sage.15 In his first strophe he speaks of the value of laborers in the crafting of artistic works and agriculture in the shaping of civilization who yet cannot hold important social offices and roles, for they lack the time necessary to study wisdom and to learn the intricacies of the profession: the council member, the judge, and the teacher. These are three offices, however, that sages may occupy. The major social roles and functions of the sage are listed in the second strophe. Unlike the laborers and skilled craftsmen, the sage has the leisure and the time to engage in study. He studies the international wisdom of the ancients and is the student of the law (the law is listed first in 38:24) that allows him to become the interpreter of Scripture. In addition, he is the student of prophecies and wisdom that includes psalms. His roles are attendants to governors, diplomats, teachers of paideia, and counselors. His piety involves arising before dawn to offer prayer and the engaging in meditation on the Scripture. Those who God so chooses are inspired with the spirit of wisdom, the primary source of insight, followed by learning. Those who compose inspired works of wisdom and excel in paideia are praised and remembered by the community.

The Sage as Rhetor in the Early Roman Empire The Jewish rhetor was a category of sage who taught youth in a rhetorical school in the Diaspora. The best known Hellenistic Jewish sage was Philo, a member of a wealthy family who received both an education in a Greek gymnasium in Alexandria and sat at the feet of Jewish teachers well versed in the traditions of the ancestors. A sophisticated scholar, who used allegorical method to interpret the Bible, Philo was quite knowledgeable of M. Weinfeld: Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, Oxford 1972. R. Kratz: The Composition of the Narrative Books of the Old Testament, London/ New York 2005. 15  J. Marböck: Sir 38,24–39,11: Der schriftgelehrte Weise, in M. Gilbert (ed.), La Sagesse de l’Ancien Testament, BETL 51, Gembloux 1979, 293–316. 13  14 

10

Leo G. Perdue

Greek philosophy and particularly Platonist thought and literature. Philo wrote and taught in the context of a school, possibly operated within his own manse in Alexandria, for he appears to fit the role of the intellectual described earlier by Pliny. A Diaspora rhetor active in the Jewish community, whose work was placed in the Greek canon, composed the Wisdom of Solomon and was likely a graduate of a Greek rhetorical school as well as a former student in a synagogue school. Perhaps he taught in a Jewish school attached to an Alexandrian synagogue. Like Philo he makes use of the conventions of Greek rhetoric and places them within a Jewish tradition that seeks to defend Judaism from the assault by Greeks and Egyptians in Alexandria. Both lived during a pogrom against the Jews of Alexandria. This antiJudaism continued in Alexandria until the annihilation of the community by Trajan near the end of his reign (115–117 C. E.). These two teachers adapted Judaism to Hellenism, seeking to present the fundamental teachings of the ancestral traditions within the rhetorical and literary components of Greek paideia. Hellenism and Jewish understandings of monotheism, the Torah, salvation history, and morality are combined to shape a new and compelling portrait of the way of life.16 Rhetoric was the art of persuasion (Plato, Grg., 453a2) learned and used by lawyers, public orators, and teachers to present their arguments in cogent and compelling fashion in order to convince their audience of the veracity of their position.17 Rhetoric (ῥητορεία) was also the “art of discourse” (τέχνη), although it was extended to include composition. The schools of rhetoric and others who taught this art regarded declamation and its composition as the quintessential task of education and its crowning achievement. Rhetoric was one of the key features of education in Greece and Rome in formal gymnasia, schools of rhetoric, and the lecturing and tutoring of Sophists. The teachers of rhetoric were normally sophists, philosophers, and instructors in schools. The art of rhetoric was a much desired skill in many arenas of life, especially among the wealthy (see the treatise on public speaking by Dio Chrysostrom, Dic exercit. = Or., 18). The Sophists especially placed rhetoric at the center of paideia. Indeed, it was viewed 16  A. Passaro/G. Bellia (eds.), The Book of Wisdom in Modern Research: Studies on Tradition, Redaction, and Theology, Deuterocanonical and Cognate Literature, Berlin 2005. 17  G. Kennedy: Historical Survey of Rhetoric, in S. Porter (ed.), Handbook of Classical Rhetoric in the Hellenistic Period. 330 B. C.–A. D. 400, Leiden 2001, 13–43. Rhetors were “workers of persuasion” (Plato, Grg 453a2). Aristotle considered rhetoric to consist of theory that is applied to the act of persuasion that is largely continuous oration. What is examined by the rhetorician is a particular issue. Quintilian added the concept of the morality of the rhetor and his oration. The rhetor is not simply a person whose style and persuasive ability are exceptional, but also is a moral person (Inst 2.15.34).



Introduction

11

as the culmination of the enkyklios paideia.18 Rhetoric became a necessary skill of teachers and philosophers in their arguments about a variety of issues in trying to persuade those who heard them of the truthfulness of their position. Aristotle (Rhet.) speaks not only of the skills of public speaking and persuasion, but also of the power of language to convince and convict. He identified four types of rhetoric: forensic (legal), deliberative, epideictic (called by others encomiastic), and persuasive that included the characteristics of what was ethical and true, what appealed to move the emotions or passions, and how logical development of an argument was shaped. Rhetors were required to learn a body of truths ( λόγοι) and commit them to memory in order to draw on them in the construction of argumentation.19 Based on the knowledge of Jewish history and Hellenistic culture, the author of Wisdom may be envisioned as a teacher who was instructed by one or more sophists and attended a Greek school for rhetoric. In this way, he became familiar in at least a cursory way with the major features of Greek philosophy (Epicurianism, Stoicism, Middle Platonism, and Neo-Pythagoreanism) and also came to master the canons of the Greek language and the variety of rhetorical features used in public speaking and writing speeches. He also likely attended a Jewish school in Alexandria attached to a synagogue20 where he learned various elements of his own tradition. 21 From the text, one may surmise that this author was an aristocrat, schooled in both Greek and Jewish education, wrote good, if not elegant Greek, and was a member of the peregrini, the Roman classification of ethnic groups that did not possess the citizenship of the poleis. He at the very least studied Hellenistic subjects either in a Greek school of rhetoric or under sophists whom he heard lecture and perhaps even hired as his tutors. It may also have been the case that he taught either as a teacher in a Jewish school that was both Hellenistic and Jewish in its curriculum or as a tutor to Alexandrian Jewish youth who came from wealthy families. Similar to Philo, he likely lived in the prosperous and cosmopolitan city of Alexandria, would have resided in the more wealthy residential area of one of the two Jewish districts of this city, could have attended the theater 18  T. Morgan: Literate Education in the Hellenistic and Roman Worlds, Cambridge 1998, 190–239. 19  See R. Hock/E. O’Neil: The Chreia and Ancient Rhetoric, Atlanta, GA, Scholars Press 1986; and idem: The Chreia and Ancient Rhetoric: Classroom Exercises, Atlanta, GA 2002. 20  See the study by L. Feldman: Diaspora Synagogues: New Light from Inscriptions and Papyri, in L. Feldman (ed.), Studies in Hellenistic Judaism, Arbeiten zur Geschichte des Antiken Judentums und des Urchristentums 30, Leiden 1996, 577–602. 21  For the classic study of Middle Platonism, see John M. Dillon/John Dillon: The Middle Platonists. 80 B. C. to A. D. 220, rev. ed. Cornell 1996.

12

Leo G. Perdue

and the hippodrome, certainly would have had access to the Museion that housed the great library, likely would have visited the palaestra, and perhaps would have even frequented the Great Synagogue. Unlike Philo, he did not serve as an ambassador to Rome, but he may have had a leadership position in the community, engaging in the defense of his community against Egyptian hostilities. He, like many of his Hellenistic Jewish contemporaries, was attracted to the intellectual stimulation of this cosmopolitan center, but warned against abandoning Jewish heritage for the appeal of Hellenistic culture. Generically speaking, the Wisdom of Solomon is an exhortatory speech or homily of persuasion ( λόγος προτρετικός)22 that seeks to convince an audience, consisting of Jews and sympathetic God-fearers, to pursue a particular course of study, path of life, or way of action (e. g. Wis 6:12). 23 Like other declamations, this speech was written down and developed into a more expansive and elegant literary text. The function of protreptic, then, is persuasion that urges its hearers to take up a new way of life.

Sages and Scribes in Qumran The Hellenistic period was also the time for the development of Jewish sectarian groups. The best known of these is the community located south of Jericho along the Dead Sea. The establishment of the Qumran community, probably by a group of Essenes, occurred perhaps as early as the last quarter of the third century, B. C. E. 24 This religious coterie was strongly opposed to the priesthood in Jerusalem and the Jerusalem temple and became even more disaffected by the growing influence of Hellenization on Jerusalem and the temple, the persecution of Jews by Antiochus IV Epiphanes, the buying and selling of the office of the high priest by Antiochus IV Epiphanes to Jason and then to Menalaus, and the upper class status of the Sadducees who collaborated with the Ptolemies and then the Seleucids. The issues were not simply cultic and theological. The priestly control of this central cultic site led to significant prestige, financial wealth, and internal political power for the families of the high priests.

22  D. Winston: The Wisdom of Solomon, AB, Garden City, NY 1979, 1–20; and J. Reese: Hellenistic Influence on the Book of Wisdom and its Consequences, AnBib 41, Rome 1970, 117 f. Reese notes: “The protreptic, then, is not a formal treatise on the abstract aspects of philosophy, but an appeal to follow a meaningful philosophy as a way of life.” 23  T. Burgess: Epideictic Literature, New York 1987, 229–230; and S. Stowers: Letter Writing in Greco-Roman Antiquity, Library of Early Christianity, Philadelphia 1986, 92. 24  See F. Cross: The Ancient Library of Qumran, Minneapolis, 21995; and F. García Martínez/J. Barrera: The People of the Dead Sea Scrolls, Leiden 1995.



Introduction

13

The community of Qumran regarded the ruling hierarchy as corrupt and the temple polluted. 25 The community center at Qumran was the location for worship, the activities of Essene priests and scribes, and the production of at least some of the scrolls found in the nearby caves. It is likely that some of this literature was written elsewhere by this rival priestly group of Essenes, perhaps even in Jerusalem, and was brought to Qumran where it was preserved with locally produced manuscripts in the caves during the time the Roman Tenth Legion vanquished the desert communities along the western coast of the Salt Sea, with the ultimate goal, successfully concluded, of conquering Masada. Most Essenes appear to have been lay people engaged in agriculture, limited crafts, and some commerce in different sites in the region. Only a few were sages, teachers, and disaffected former priests. One of the more interesting observations is that the term “scribe” occurs only four times in non-Qumran literature (4Q274 f1i:7; 4Q282 fq:1; 4Q461 f2:1; and 11Q5 27:2) and not at all in the sect’s own literature composed in their Dead Sea community, this in spite of the fact that its scholars were engaged in the composition of texts and copying of manuscripts. Be that as it may, one of the references in a non-Qumran text to “scribe” is important. It occurs in the first century C. E. Psalms Scroll (11QPsa 27:5) and mentions King David (not Solomon!) as the one who was known for his wisdom and sapiential writings as well as the composition of the psalms. In column 27, David is the object of praise for having written 3600 psalms and 4050 songs. He is called wise (‫ )חכם‬and identified as a scribe (‫ )ספר‬whose “light” was like the “light of the sun” and who received from God a “discerning and wise spirit.” This is the single place in the Old Testament and early Judaism where David is called a “scribe.” His wisdom, discerning spirit, and enlightenment, coupled with his compositional talent, points to his description as a sage not unlike the one in Sir 38:24–39:11. Indeed, this may be a description of the sage ideally viewed by the scribes of Qumran who transmitted this text. Most important in the Qumran literature is the discussion of the ‫ משכיל‬whose functions include those of the liturgical performer, the teacher, and the keeper of knowledge, including that considered esoteric. 26 Among the many manuscripts discovered in the caves adjacent to the Qumran community was a series of texts and fragments that point to the existence of a major sapiential text: 4QInstruction (IQ26, 4Q415–418, and 423). 27 4QInstruction’s identification as a sapiential text with elements of 25  See E. Sanders: Aristocrats and Sadducees, in his volume, Judaism: Practice & Belief 63 B. C. E.–66 C. E., London 1992, including his lengthy references to sources and bibliography. 26  See the essay by Armin Lange in this volume. 27  For the text, see Qumran Cave 4, 24. Sapiential Texts, Part 2. 4QInstruction (MÛSĀR LĔ MĒVÎN): 4Q415 ff, J. Strugnell/D. Harrington/T. Elgvin (ed.), DJD 34; Oxford 1999. Also

14

Leo G. Perdue

apocalyptic is based on formal and thematic arguments. Common sapiential forms include admonitions and sayings. There are other sapiential texts identified by Lange. 11QPsa is a wisdom hymn to the creator while 4Q11 is a wisdom hymn on creation. 28 These wisdom texts demonstrate that the streams of sapiential and apocalyptic tradition merged at least as early as the first part of the second century, B. C. E. (see the Book of Mysteries). Indeed this was taking shape even before the founding of the Qumran community, as some of the prophetic books and editorial additions make clear (e. g., Joel, Isa 24–27, and Zech 12). 29 Some of the non-sectarian, pre-Qumran texts were written in a different social and religious context than that of the community. Words of the Heavenly Luminaries (4Q504–506), the Mysteries of Creation (4Q304–305), and 4QInstruction (IQ26, 4Q415–418, 423) have no known place of origin, for they appear to have originated outside the Dead Sea community and its geographical and social location. The Essenes of Qumran took these writings into their own library and used them in shaping some of their understanding of theology and the moral life. 4QInstruction, which has all the appearance of being written prior to the founding of the Qumran community, also witnesses to the fact that wisdom and apocalyptic already had begun to merge in earlier Jewish thought prior to the second century B. C. E. The Qumran sectarians used some of these affirmations in the composition of some of their own writings, including 1QS iii:1–iv:26. While these sectarians used sapiential language and thought in creation theology and in moral discourse, they came to interpret history apocalyptically and viewed the prophets of the past as speaking to the community. Proto-apocalyptic that moved in the direction of interpretation of history occurred in the canonical prophets and emerged especially in a full blown expression in Enoch. Indeed, while Qoheleth stood in its way, the apocalyptic themes of eschatology see D. Harrington: Wisdom Texts from Qumran, The Literature of the Dead Sea Scrolls, London/New York 1996; T. Elgvin: Wisdom with and without Apocalyptic, in: D. Falk/F. García Martínez (eds.), Sapiential, Liturgical and Poetical Texts from Qumran (Proceedings of the Third Meeting of the International Organization for Qumran Studies Oslo 1998), Leiden 2000, 1–38; C. Hempel/A. Lange/H. Lichtenberger (eds.), The Wisdom Texts from Qumran and the Development of Sapiential Thought, BETL 159, Leuven 2002; J. Collins, et al. (ed.), Sapiential Perspectives: Wisdom Literature in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls, Leiden 2004, and M. Goff: The Mystery of Creation in 4Qinstruction, DSD 10 (2003), 163–186. This article is based on his volume, The Worldly and Heavenly Wisdom of 4Qinstruction, STDJ 50, Leiden 2003. 28  See A. Lange: Die Weisheitstext aus Qumran: Eine Einleitung, The Wisdom Texts from Qumran and the Development of Sapiential Thought, 30. 29  Elgvin: Wisdom with and Without Apocalyptic, in: Sapiential, Liturgical and Poetical Texts from Qumran, 15–38. For the place of apocalypticism in Qumran, see D. Dimant: Apocalyptic Texts at Qumran, in E. Ulrich/J. VanderKam (ed.), The Community of the Renewed Covenant, Notre Dame, IN 1994, 175–191, esp. 183; and F. García Martínez: Qumran and Apocalyptic, Leiden 1992.



Introduction

15

and immortality of the soul began to enter into wisdom literature in the Wisdom of Solomon. Ben Sira already had opened the door to a Hellenistic approach to Jewish history (an encomium) in his “Praise of the Pious” in ch. 44–50, but he does not engage the major apocalyptic themes. Wisdom texts30 found in Qumran not only examine and teach the features of the moral life, but also project a theological world view based on the creation of the cosmos viewed through an apocalyptic lens. Yet, this community was both a persecuted, marginalized one, and one that had an intellectual and pious cluster of teachers and scribes who awaited the end time. 4QInstruction (IQ 26, 4Q415–418, 423) moves toward the more apocalyptic teaching of Enoch and Daniel, both of which combine traditional wisdom teaching with the eschatological themes of revelation through divine wisdom, eternal life, dualism, determinism, and judgment after death. Not surprisingly, some of these eschatological themes are present in a less pronounced manner in the later Wisdom of Solomon so that we date the text approximately around 40 C. E. and place it in the Jewish community in Egypt. However, the Wisdom of Solomon is not apocalyptic literature. The Zeitgeist of the sectarian community, by contrast, consists of a perceived evil and an experienced suffering caused by external oppression and internal corruption of sacred beliefs and practices. Believing they lived in the last days, this community anticipated matters would climax in a great war that would be won by God, the good angels, and the community of the righteous. Their ethos for this approaching time was shaped by study of the ancestors, the composition of commentaries or pesharim on the prophets, the engagement in piety and ritual cleansing, the knowledge of sacred things, and a proscribed moral behavior. Thus, the Dead Sea community’s literature reflects the activities of sages, seers, and former priests who transmitted and at times merged their literatures.

Sages, Scribes, and Seers in Apocalyptic. Enoch and Daniel 31 Gerhard von Rad’s well known thesis, articulated in the second volume of his Old Testament Theology,32 that apocalyptic grew out of the wisdom tradition, is at least partially correct, since both prophecy and wisdom provided the seedbed for the appearance of the apocalyptic tradition. Those apocalyptic seers whose memories have been preserved bear a variety of pseudonymous names, including Enoch, Daniel, Ezra, and Baruch. See especially T. Elgvin, et al.: Qumran Cave 4: Sapiential Texts, DJD 34, Oxford 1997. J. Collins: The Apocalyptic Imagination, Grand Rapids, MI 21998; and idem: The Sage in the Apocalyptic and Pseudepigraphic Literature, in J. Gammie/L. Perdue (eds.), The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, Winona Lake, IN 1990, 343–354. 32  G. von Rad: Old Testament Theology 2, New York 1967, 301–315. 30  31 

16

Leo G. Perdue

The initial collection of Enoch (“The Book of Watchers,” ch. 36) portrays the primary character, a prediluvian mythical figure in Genesis 5:21–24 who equates with the apkallus in Mesopotamian legend, in the role of the scribe who serves as an intermediary between the angels in heaven and those who have fallen and are on the earth (12:1–4). In the “Book of Giants,” preserved at Qumran, he is the “scribe of distinction” who is asked to interpret a dream. Further, in conveying his communications between heaven and earth, he is a visionary and one who knows the intricacies of the cosmos and the heavens (see the “Astronomical Book” in 1 En 72–82). His esoteric knowledge is made known to him by heavenly revelation. Thus he knew the divine mysteries in contrast to the knowledge of the sages in Proverbs whose insight came from their experiences and observations and was informed by ancestral traditions.33 Daniel is a second example of an apocalyptic sage. In the initial six chapters that form a collection of narratives about Daniel and his companions, the sage is a professional courtier in the Babylonian court, learned in Akkadian, and numbered among the sages of Babylon, along with other officials including magicians and sorcerers. Among their duties is the interpretation of dreams, a gift especially held by Daniel who is able to interpret those of the Babylonian king. His obedience to the law, while leading to his threatened death, results ultimately in gaining a position of prestige in the administration. In the second collection of materials, consisting of apocalyptic visions (Dan 7–12), Daniel and his companions are ‫( משכילים‬11:33, 35, and 12:3). He now becomes the recipient of divine revelation in the form of dreams and interpretation provided him by an angel. As an apocalyptic visionary, Daniel foresees the future salvation of the Jews and the destruction of their enemies. These and similar apocalyptic texts are located in communities of the righteous who await the heavenly deliverance from the wicked in the form of oppressors and expect the final salvation in which they will be judged as worthy of a future life.

Early Jewish Wisdom Early Jewish texts include quite a number by Jewish sages, which are found in the Pseudepigrapha and Rabbinic literature. Thus, for example, selected writings of Philo, The Wise Menander, Pseudo-Phocylides, the Epistle of Baruch, elements of Enoch, 4QInstruction and other Qumran 33  The above is taken from Collins: The Sage in Apocalyptic and Pseudepigraphic Literature, 344–357.



Introduction

17

texts, Tractate Abot, and parts of the Mishnah also deserve attention. The transition from biblical wisdom literature to Rabbinic literature occurs during the Tannaitic period, following the conquest of Judah at the end of the Great Revolt (70 C. E.).

Sages, Scribes, and Seers in the Eastern Mediterranean World34 The sages and other writers of Israelite and early Jewish literature recognized that wisdom was international in scope and transcended the national boundaries of the peoples residing in Egypt and the Levant (1 Kgs 4:30–31; cf. Jer 49:7 and Obad 8–9). The larger, more prominent cultures with a more highly developed intellectual tradition than their neighbors in SyriaIsrael strongly influenced the sapiential tradition of Israel and later Judah. To do so required a lingua franca and the education of sages in some of the ancient Near Eastern languages, ranging from Egyptian (Hieroglyphics, Hieratic, and Demotic) to Sumerian, Akkadian, Aramaic, Greek, and Latin. The need for the knowledge of these languages and some familiarity with their cultures and social organizations were necessary in a variety of areas, including composition of literature, communication, trade, and diplomacy.

Sages and Scribes in Egypt Egyptian Wisdom texts, ranging from the Old Kingdom (the Early Bronze Age) to the end of the Hellenistic period, include especially instructions, although there were other “sapiential” forms that gave concrete expression to the teaching of the wise. The major wisdom texts, prior to Alexander, include “The Instruction of Hordjedef,” “The Instruction for Kagemni,” “The Instruction of Ptahhotep,” “The Instruction for Merikare,” “The Instruction of Amenemhet,” “The Prophecies of Neferti,” the “Instruction of Any,” the “Teaching of a Man to His son/Amunnakhte,” “The Instruction of Amenemopet,” “The Instruction of Ankhsheshonki,” “Papyrus Insinger,” “The Admonitions of Ipuwer,” “Lamentations,” the “Tale of the Eloquent Peasant,” the “Discourses of Sisobek,” the “Papyrus Lansing” (?), and the “Satirical Letter: P. Anastasi I.”35 34  For the translation of the major texts, see G. Burkard, et al. (ed.), TUAT III/2, Gütersloh 1991. 35  See H. Brunner: Die Weisheitsbücher der Ägypter: Lehren fur das Leben, Zurich 1998. Also see N. Shupak: Where can Wisdom be found? The Sage’s Language in the Bible and in Ancient Egyptian Literature, OBO 130, Göttingen 1993; and A. Loprieno (ed.), Ancient Egyptian Literature. History and Forms, Probleme der Ägyptologie 10, Leiden 1996.

18

Leo G. Perdue

Scribes were necessary for carrying out the fundamental activities requiring reading and writing in the administrations of court and temples. These scribes, trained in sufficient numbers, would have to command not only the ability to read, write, and archive texts and documents, but also to participate in the other varied undertakings of a civilization, from strategic planning, to building structures, to organizing and equipping a military.36 Education of youth to engage in these activities was necessary to sustain a civilization. It should come as no surprise, then, that wisdom literature would have been created within the domain of scribes and schools, as the contents of some of these texts reveal. One especially important text for the course of Egyptian education is inscribed on the statue of a high priest named Bekenkhons who lived during the reign of Ramses II. According to this inscription, he spent four years in the school of the temple of Mut (the vulture goddess and consort of Amun) in Karnak, followed by eleven years of serving as an apprentice in the royal stables. He later became a priest of Amun in Karnak and then after four years entered into the role of the high priest. In the Old Kingdom, only officials’ sons and children of the aristocracy received a scribal education, while in the Middle Kingdom the scribes became an important element of a bureaucracy loyal to the King. By the time of the New Kingdom, even children of the lower class could be educated in Egyptian schools and enter the higher rank of officials in the empire. 37 Very few people, however, were literate. One estimate for the Old Kingdom is that only about one percent of the total population could read and write, and a much smaller figure could read and compose sophisticated texts. The education of the scribes during the Old Kingdom occurred in an apprenticeship in which a father tutored his own son or an official his successor. Thus “son” in the sapiential literature may refer either to a biological son or to a novice in a guild. This nomenclature continued through the centuries, even after the establishment of formal schools. Daughters do not normally seem to have received a formal, literary education. 38 With the rise of the twelfth dynasty and the Middle Kingdom, schools were established in which advanced students studied in formal classes. In one text from the New Kingdom’s nineteenth dynasty, there is a description of the model student and the proper approach to learning. He is prompt, neat in dress, ready with his book, hardworking, follows the example of his teachers, takes seriously mathematics and readings, and learns silently A. Schlott: Schrift und Schreiber im Alten Ägypten, München 1989. E. Wente: The Scribes of Ancient Egypt, CANE IV (1995), 2211–2221, esp. 2214. 38  See G. Robins: Women in ancient Egypt, London: British Museum, 1993; and A. Delpha: Women in Ancient Egyptian Wisdom Literature, in: L. J. Archer/S. Fischler/M. Wyke (eds.), Women in Ancient Societies, London 1994, 24–52. 36  37 



Introduction

19

and not by speaking aloud.39 Students studied and perhaps even collected a personal body of texts, ranging from routine scribal details (e. g., letters, reports, and accounting) to moral instructions and etiquette for proper comportment. These were learned by copying that would enable them to perform the perfunctory duties of the scribes, to perfect their linguistic skills, to incorporate into their body of knowledge features of culture, and to shape their behavior according to the rules and virtues of propriety. A few even became skilled in writing new compositions and did not simply learn to hand down what had gone before, but advanced into the elite ranks of gifted sages. The most important schools were located in the capital cities and associated with the major temples.40 These schools were staffed with administrators and teachers, some of whom also served as officials of the kingdom and as highly placed priests of temples.41 For example, the royal residence close to Memphis was the location for the major school for the education of children of the aristocracy and officials for administering the kingdom.42 Other schools would have been attached to governmental centers in major cities. This educational system continued through the New Kingdom. In their elementary education, students studied not only the classics of culture written in the Old and Middle Kingdoms, but also a collection of various writings called the “Miscellanies.” Much of the literature of ancient Egypt survived as schoolboy copies. Following the completion of that level, some students then entered into more advanced training that was essentially vocational. For those who were preparing for the priesthood, the place of education was called the “House of Life” that served as a scriptorium for the copying of older texts and the writing of newer ones. This type of school was attached to each of the important temples in the kingdom. Others studied in different schools or under a variety of apprenticeships to become administrative scribes of various types. Scribal careers normally took two paths: royal or temple administration. The administration of the kingdom was highly bureaucratic and required scribes at every level of civil life. Scribes were in charge of building projects including tombs, temples, and cities (see Imhotep) and in operating the kingdom’s administration, including the activities of the military, correspondence, diplomacy, and the writing and archiving of records. The administrative scribes needed a formulation of the Egyptian language that was more conducive to the writing of letters, decrees, and 39  Papyrus Anastasi V, 22/26–23/27. See R. Caminos: Late-Egyptian Miscellanies, London 1954, 262–263. 40  H. Brunner: Altägyptische Erziehung, Wiesbaden 1957. 41  A. McDowell: Teachers and Students at Deir el-Medina, in: R. J. Demarée/A. Egberts (eds.), Deir el-Medina in the Third Millennium AD. A Tribute to J. Janssen, Leiden 2000, 217–233. 42  Wente: The Scribes of Ancient Egypt, 2215.

20

Leo G. Perdue

catalogues of a variety of materials including lands, animals, harvests, and legal documents than was hieroglyphics. Subsequently, they developed toward the end of the Early Dynastic period (c. 3000–2686 B. C. E.) a hieratic script for “business” and even for literary compositions.43 Now scribes were able to write more concentrated documents, not only on papyri, but also on ostraca. Eventually, a more cursive form of script, demotic, was developed by the middle of the seventh century, B. C. E. During the New Kingdom, scribes who entered diplomatic service were educated in the languages of foreign nations that included Akkadian, Canaanite, Hittite, and Minoan or Mycenean.44 This explains, in part, the universal outlook of Egyptian wisdom. Undoubtedly, emissaries from these nations to Egypt would have to communicate in hieratic and later demotic. The reverse would be true for foreign embassies staffed in Egyptian courts. The social status of Egyptian scribes was a coveted one.45 In essence, the scribes were responsible for the development and transmission of Egyptian culture, ranging from building projects to literary texts. As noted above, the great majority of Egyptians were illiterate. Subsequently, those who developed literacy had the opportunity to enter important positions in the state and temple. The conclusion of the Book of Kemyt, the manual of educational instruction from the Middle Kingdom, reads: “As for the scribe in whatever position he has at the Residence, he can never become miserable in it.” This is cited in “The Satire on the Trades” that adds: “There is nothing which surpasses writing … Moreover, it is greater than any (other) office; there is not its like in the land” (ANET, 432). Even when not personally wealthy Schlott: Schrift und Schreiber im Alten Ägypten, 5–53. Wente: The Scribes of Ancient Egypt, 2217. The lingua franca of the ancient Near East was Akkadian until Aramaic began to replace it during the period of the Neo-Assyrian empire, starting in the eighth century B. C. E. Greek then became the common language after the conquest of Alexander and the establishment of the Seleucid and Ptolemaic kingdoms in the late fourth century, B. C. E. Thus, in addition to their own native languages, Egyptian scribes serving in the bureaucracy had to master the lingua franca of their day. See Schlott: Schrift und Schreiber im Alten Ägypter, 223; and W. Schenkel: Fremdsprachen, LÄ 2 (1975–1992), 314 f. The knowledge of Akkadian (followed by Aramaic and Greek) was necessary for diplomacy and international correspondence. 45  The tomb of another son of Khufu, Kawab, also has been discovered. It included statues, three of which are of scribes in a seated position with a papyrus scroll on their laps, demonstrating the prominence of the profession in the Old Kingdom (Schlott: Schrift und Schreiber im alten Ägypten, 148). The high prestige of the scribal profession is also indicated by the mastaba of a scribal official, Hysyra (circa 2660 B. C. E.), who is depicted on carved wooden reliefs in various garbs, including that of the scribe. This scribal official dates from the Third dynasty, during the reign of Djoser. His titles included “overseer of the royal scribes.” His depiction includes him holding a long scribal stylus, and his titles demonstrate his aristocratic status. However, after the New Kingdom, the role of the scribe was more frequently a type of skilled laborer than a prestigious position held only by aristocratic families (Schlott: Schrift und Schreiber im alten Ägypten, 149). Still, sages of noble rank, including officials and honored wise men, maintained the highest status among the scribes. 43 

44 



Introduction

21

and powerful, the scribes of upper ranks had access to the elite and powerful and possessed the considerable advantage of having the opportunity to advance in social rank along with their patrons. Indeed, students were to take to heart the teachings and example of the ones who became men of distinction and were assured of immortality through their writings even when their tombs have crumbled and no mortuary services are performed on their behalf. Indeed, as regards famous sages of antiquity, “their names are (still) pronounced because of their books which they made, since they were good and the memory of him who made them (lasts) to the limits of eternity (‘In Praise of Learned Scribes,’ ANET, 431–432).” Some eight are named in this text, six of whom are known from the copies of their writings that have survived through the centuries, and four of whom are depicted on a Ramessid tomb chapel at Saqqara. Some scribes accrued wealth and even could afford tombs for their family and themselves. Thus, the scribes were “the intellectual elite of the land, the principal artisans of high culture.”46 Not only did they preserve the classical tradition, they also added to it through their own writings.

Mesopotamian (Sumerian and Akkadian) Sages and Scribes Mesopotamian wisdom literature47 includes literature and proverbial sayings from the Sumerian period to the age of the Persian Empire. Dating this literature is difficult at times, but there are numerous intimations that allow a basic chronological ordering of texts.48 Some of the Sumerian sayings, including the lengthy Instructions of Shurrupak, have been collected, translated, and edited by E. I. Gordon and Bendt Alster.49 Edubba compositions (e. g. dialogues between Teachers and Students or the bilingual text, “In Praise of Scribal Art”) also should be included among the wisdom literature. 46  Wente: The Scribes of Ancient Egypt, 2219. See also G. Posener: Littérature et politique dans l’Égypte de la XIIe dynastie, Bibliotheque de l’École des Hautes Études 307, Paris 1956; and W. Helck: Politische Gegensätze im alten Ägypten, Hildesheimer ägyptologische Beiträge 23, Hildesheim 1986. 47  E. Gordon: A New Look at the Wisdom of Sumer and Akkad, BO 17 (1960), 12–52. 48  W. Lambert: The Development of Thought and Literature in Ancient Mesopotamia, BWL, Winona Lake, IN 1996, 20. Lambert does not think the term “wisdom” is appropriate for classifying literature in Sumer and Akkad, but, because of similarities to biblical wisdom texts, he calls his collection, Babylonian Wisdom Literature. He notes that the Babylonian term for “wisdom” (nēmequ) and derivatives and cognates occasionally have a moral content, although they more often point to “cult and magic lore.” Also see the collection, translation, and editing of the wisdom texts from Mesopotamia: TUAT XXX/1, Gütersloh 1990. 49  B. Alster: Wisdom of Ancient Sumer, Bethesda 2005; Proverbs and Ancient Sumer: The Worlds Earliest Proverb Collections 1 & 2, Baltimore 1997, and idem: The Instructions of Šuruppak: A Sumerian Proverb Collection, Mesopotamica 2, Copenhagen 1974.

22

Leo G. Perdue

Akkadian Wisdom Literature has been brought together by W. G. Lambert in a classic collection (BWL) which includes Akkadian sayings and proverbs. Other texts that appear to be wisdom include the “Instructions of Šuruppak,” the “Counsels of Wisdom,” the “Counsels of a Pessimist,” the “Advice of a Prince,” “The Dialogue of Pessimism,” and “Contest Literature” (“The Tamarisk and the Palm,” “The Fable of the Willow,” “Nisaba and Wheat,” “The Ox and the Horse,” “The Fable of the Fox,” and “The Fable of the Riding-donkey”). However, BWL includes several famous compositions which raise questions as to their appropriateness in a wisdom collection. So, for instance, “The Poem of the Righteous Sufferer” (Ludlul bel nēmeqi) appears to be more theological than sapiential, while “The Babylonian Theodicy” may not be necessarily as strongly sapiential and similar to Job as previously argued by the majority of scholars. (Lambert notes that Wisdom literature deals with ethics, practical advice on living, and intellectual problems, including the discussion of significant issues like theodicy.) There are also hymns that should be removed from consideration as wisdom writings. The same is the case with Listwissenschaften (not included in BWL) that are inventories of objects in the world, and certainly represent Mesopotamian scholarship and science, but are not concerned with human existence, a prerequisite for wisdom literature. There are many compositions that should be added to Lambert’s corpus. Comic compositions such as “Poor Man of Nippur” (included in TUAT), “At the Cleaner’s,” “Ninurta-paqidat’s Dogbite,” and even the “Old-Babylonian Bawdy Ballade” are satires that explore societal roles in much the same way as Eccl 9:1–17 discusses the wisdom of the ‫מסכן‬. The “Dialogue of Pessimism” has already been compared with Ecclesiastes, and other compositions should be as well. Another newly published parallel to Ecclesiastes is the “Advice of Shupe-awilum,” a dialogue in which the son challenges the value of amassing wealth and other “traditional” values. Then, too, there is the Gilgamesh Epic. While it may neither be practical nor necessary to include the entire text, in spite of its sapiential theme of the quest to avoid death, key passages including the introduction, Siduri’s advice to Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh’s lament over Enkidu, and Shamhat’s curse should be considered. New collections of animal proverbs have been published (in Iraq). They also appear in other compositions, including the ending of the Sargon Birth Legend. Proverbs exist not only in the collections translated by Lambert, but individual proverbs also appear in letters from various times and localities. Some of these scattered aphorisms have been studied and gathered in various publications, and should be brought together in a volume.50 50  Many of these observations are offered by V. Hurowitz in his statements regarding Mesopotamian wisdom that are a part of a prospectus for the Library of Wisdom, a collection of



Introduction

23

While the sages believed that true wisdom was a gift of the gods, this did not prevent them from establishing an intellectual tradition that was studied and transmitted over the generations. The social institution of this tradition is the school. Mesopotamian sages studied in scribal schools known as the “tablet house,” i. e. É.DUB.BA.A (Sumerian) and its successor, the bīt uppi (Akkadian).51 The protective goddess of the school in Sumer was Nisaba (the goddess of grain, writing, and wisdom), while the Akkadian gods of wisdom were Ea, Marduk, and Nabû. This school was the “intellectual center” for “the initiation to the wisdom and paraenetic essays composed for the use of students.”52 Academies likely existed in many Mesopotamian cities from the Sumerian period in the early third millennium. The edubba’s principal was the all-knowing ummia who planned and taught the curriculum with his colleagues. 53 It would appear that in the Sumerian theocracy, in which each city-state was ruled by a patron deity, the edubba played an important role as the direct link to the temples and priests and the administration that depended on the temples for the deposit of their treasure and their archives. However, under the Akkadians, who profoundly changed the nature of the state into a dynastic kingdom whose central power became the king, the school became more of an academy that had a direct link to the royal dynasties.54 This is especially noted in the royal psalms that had a special category of school hymns55 that are similar to the didactic poems (wisdom psalms) present in the Hebrew Psalter. Different social roles were filled by the sages of ancient Mesopotamia. Most of them appear to have served as scribes and rhetors, i. e., experts

Israelite and ancient Near Eastern texts from the Eastern Mediterranean World, which will be published over the coming decade. 51  The bīt uppi was not only the Old Babylonian term for school, but also for archive, thus indicating that writing, copying, and archiving texts were activities performed in the tablet house. From the first millennium, the term comes to refer specifically to the temple school. Berossus, a Babylonian priest and historian as well as a contemporary of the Egyptian Manetho, wrote his history in the first half of the third century, B. C. E. He provides a late account of the many areas of study in which the sages were involved. See Å. Sjöberg: The Old Babylonian Edubba, Sumerological Studies in Honor of Thorkild Jacobsen on His Seventieth Birthday, AS 20, Chicago 1975, 159–179; H. Vanstiphout: How Did they Learn Sumerian? JCS 31 (1979) 118–126; M. Civil: Sur les ‘livres d’écolier’ à l’époque paléo-babylonienne, in: J.-M. Durand, Miscellanea Babylonica, Paris 1985; and P. Gesche: Schulunterricht in Babylonien im ersten Jahrtausend v. Chr., AOAT 275, Münster 2001. 52  J. van Dijk: La sagesse suméro-accadienne, Leiden 1953, 21–27. 53  S. Kramer: The Sage in Sumerian Literature, in: The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, 1990, 32. 54  Dijk: La sagesse suméro-accadienne, 22. 55  A. Falkenstein/W. von Soden: Sumerische und akkadische Hymnen und Gebete, Zürich 1953.

24

Leo G. Perdue

in written and oral language.56 Kramer describes the Sumerian sage as an educator and humanist.57 And this would be true of the later Akkadian scribes as well. Some of the sages were teachers in the schools associated with the courts and temples. In the curriculum of the edubba, there were large numbers of proverbs and other kinds of sayings that were either selected from other literary settings or composed by the sages, copied, redacted, and placed into literary collections, both for teaching the content of morality and religion and for learning to read, write, and compose.58 More accomplished scribes and sages learned to enhance their writings with the rhetorical features of the language. Indeed, much of their literary education consisted of reading and copying texts that had been placed in various archives and libraries (temple, court, and private).59 They engaged also in the writing of other types of materials, including poems, disputations, myths, epics, hymns, laments, and prayers. In these writings, the instructors introduced their students to the complexities of life, the theological understanding of the world, the doctrine of the fate of the individual in the hands of the gods, and the critical issues of theodicy, ambiguity, and divine justice. As concerns content, Kramer divides the sayings into two primary categories: those that dealt with practical and ethical values and those that engaged the paradoxes confronted in human existence. The disputations, which comprise some of the most striking examples of the literature, approached a variety of subjects, ranging from determining the comparative value of the seasons, artifacts, tools, creatures, and vegetables, to the problem of the relationship of human suffering and divine justice.60 The edubba and the later Akkadian bīt uppi were more than simple elementary schools for children and youths. Rather they were more like a university where knowledge of all fields was cultivated and taught, including even music, since different hymnic texts were learned, written, and 56  J. Bottéro/C. Herrenschmidt/J.-P. Veernant: L’Orient ancient et nous: l’écriture, la raison, les dieux, Bibliothèque Albin Michel, Paris 1996. 57  Kramer: The Sage in Sumerian Literature, 32–37. 58  B. Alster: Proverbs from Ancient Mesopotamia: Their History and Social Implications, Proverbium 10. Yearbook of International Proverb Scholarship (1993), 20. 59  An important library at Emar (modern Meskene) has been excavated in eastern Syria that originated with a priest of the twelfth century, B. C. E. See the discussion of schools by F. Rochberg-Halton: Canonicity in Cuneiform Texts, JCS 36 (1984), 127–144. According to A. Oppenheim: Ancient Mesopotamia. Portrait of a Dead Civilization, rev. ed., Chicago 1977, 17, there would have been a maximum of 1500 cuneiform texts that entered into the “stream of tradition.” 60  In regard to the questioning of divine justice, see D. Sitzler: Vorwurf gegen Gott: ein religioses Motiv im Alten Orient (Ägypten und Mesopotamien), Studies in Oriental Religions 32, Wiesbaden, 1995. For a study of the disputations, see H. Vanstiphout: The Mesopotamian Debate Poems. A General Presentation (Part I), ASJ 12 (1990), 271–318; and idem: Part II. The Subject, ASJ 14 (1992), 339–367. Also see G. Reinink/H. Vanstiphout (eds.), Dialogues in the Ancient and Medieval Near East, OLA 42, Leuven 1991.



Introduction

25

both sung and played there. This also indicates, along with the textual evidence addressing the provenance of other Sumerian cultic literature, that the sages of the edubba were not opposed to or unconcerned with cultic religion, but rather were involved in the writing and transmission of its literature. Noteworthy is the fact that the literature of the edubba was often concluded by a eulogy to a god. Several even begin with an invocation to a deity. Finally, we also know that the Sumerians enjoyed not only music, but also poetry and the composition and telling of stories. Thus, the philosophy of education of the school, as revealed by the edubba essays, was the combination of the knowledge of the “humanities and science” and the mysterious understanding of the heavens revealed by the gods. The educational formation of the sage was thus to become human through the study of these disciplines and through the awareness of the secretive mysteries of the gods. The curriculum of the edubba and its Akkadian successor, the bīt uppi, may be reconstructed from textual evidence. Subjects studied were lexicography and its subdivisions, knowledge needed for a variety of professions, the dialects, the composite and simple logograms, the lists of gods, features of administration, proper names, mathematics, genres of literature, medicine, and music. During the Akkadian periods, knowledge of other languages was needed for international discourse. Students were especially prepared for the science of reading, writing, copying, composing, and archiving documents for the two principal institutions, those of the court and the temple. Subsequently one may with confidence say that the school (the edubba and the later bīt uppi) was the likely center for the composition and transmission of wisdom literature. We are fortunate to have a number of wisdom texts from Sumer that address the curriculum, the attitudes and decorum of teacher and student, and the intellectual character of a carefully constructed institution designed to create and perpetuate a living cultural tradition. One text in particular reveals the curricular core of the edubba that a schoolboy studies until graduation. In each area he was expected to achieve a level of competence that would enable him to function as a scribe. Vanstiphout entitles this text, “The Dialogue between an Examiner and a Student,” and he interprets it as a “final examination” of an examiner.61 The student affirms and then demonstrates the various areas in which he has achieved what he considers to be an admirable competence, often referring to his teacher who instructed him. Thus, he declares and then demonstrates his abilities in speaking and writing Sumerian, the interpretation of texts, mathemat61  See H. Vanstiphout: The Dialogue between an Examiner and a Student, COS 1, Leiden 1997, 592–593; and idem: Remarks on ‘Supervisor and Scribe’ (or Dialogue 4, or Edubba C), NABU 1 (1996), 1–2.

26

Leo G. Perdue

ics, budgeting, and the drawing up of contracts and deeds. While he does not point to the number of years that he studied, he does profess the length of time he spent in school each month, i. e., 24 days, and he boasts of his excellent memory. A second Sumerian text, also translated and interpreted by Vanstiphout, is the one he names “The Dialogue between a Supervisor and a Scribe.”62 The supervisor (UGULA) also examines a student who seeks to advance, conditional on both his knowledge in certain areas and his morality. The supervisor calls the young student to him and informs him, “What my teacher taught me, I will teach you.” This reference to the passing down of a tradition from teacher to student through the generations is a major motif in wisdom literatures in the ancient Near East. The UGULA refers to his “big brother,” his teacher and guide through the edubba. He taught him the rules of completing assignments, the value of time and the foolishness of wasting it, the importance of diligence, the avoidance of arrogance, the controlling of speech, the paying of compliments, the significance of obedience, and the value of piety. The student responds to the teacher in respect, yet is miffed over his treatment as a novice ever having to endure the burden of rules. Indeed, the student points to how faithfully he has carried out his responsibilities as the overseer of his “Big Brother’s” house and servants, his attention to the preparation of the UGULA’s sacrifices to the god, the hard labor he carried out on his “Big Brother’s” behalf, and a request that he not be belittled as one who shirks his duty or does not know anything. Then the supervisor blesses him for having listened to his counsels, assuring him he is in the hand of the goddess Nisaba and that he will experience joy, for the edubba is the place where all wisdom resides. Thus, this text speaks not simply of the scribal arts, but also of character and moral responsibility. A third and final school dialogue, translated and interpreted by Vanstiphout, is “The Dialogue between Two Scribes.”63 In this dialogue, an older scribe is further along in his studies than the younger one and enjoys bullying him. Even the teacher takes the side of the older intimidator. Assuming the form of a disputation, this text provides a rare and revealing look into the nature of education in the edubba. The “Big Brother” (named GIRINE-ISAG) berates the younger student (ENKI-MANSUM) for indolence and being a “dumbskull.” He also ridicules his protégé for wanting to be a scribe like he is. His weaknesses are detailed. He is incapable of understanding what he writes, he cannot divide a plot of land or apportion a field, he lacks the ability to survey the land, and he fails as a 62  H. Vanstiphout: The Dialogue between a Supervisor and a Scribe, COS 1, Leiden 1997, 590–592. 63  H. Vanstiphout: The Dialogue between Two Scribes, COS 1, 588–590.



Introduction

27

reconciler of those who quarrel. The older student boasts his own father is a Sumerian, while he degrades his young underling as being the offspring of a barbarian. Yet the youngster protests and defends himself, claiming he can do and do well what his tutor denies. The teacher inserts himself, taking the side of the “Big Brother,” telling him he may do to his protégé what he wishes. It is clear from Mesopotamian records that the court or palace was a major setting for the use of the arts of wisdom.64 Some of this is due to the requirement that the ruler be exceedingly adept in ruling a kingdom and in engaging in and overseeing such activities as the promulgation of laws and the construction of cities and temples. Sages who served in the palace of the ruler developed a theology of kingship that gave this institution the highest human authority in the city-state, second only to the city’s deity. Like the Akkadians who were to follow, the Sumerians believed that kingship was handed down from heaven, both before and then after the cosmic upheaval of the Flood, in order to govern humans. Its me included the laws of royal authority, the ruler’s role of intermediary between the gods and humans, his regalia, and his insignia.65 Wisdom in the court is also important in the administrative duties of officials who carry out the manifold tasks of royal rule, both domestic and foreign. Thus professionals said to require wisdom included scribes to write correspondence, to keep records, and to maintain financial accounts, builders and craftsmen for construction projects, managers to oversee the smooth operation of city life and the larger kingdom, diplomacy, technology, and scientific efforts. The king was wise due to his own education. This personal wisdom was enhanced by the skills and knowledge of those who served him, not simply in the palace, but also in the court and the royal bureaucracy. Crown princes, and possibly others, also learned their wisdom in the settings of the court, thus pointing to the existence of royal schools for educating the children of the king, especially the crown prince, and of the aristocracy. In Mesopotamia, scribes were intellectuals held in high regard.66 They were bureaucrats, poets, and scholars. As possessors of knowledge, they were known as “the wise” (Sumerian ABGAL or UM.ME.A; Akkadian 64  R. Sweet: The Sage in Mesopotamian Palaces and Royal Courts, in: The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, 99–107. 65  Kramer: The Sage in Sumerian Literature, in: The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, 40–44. 66  See the essays by A. Oppenheim: The Position of the Intellectual in Mesopotamian Society, in Daedalus (1975) entitled: Wisdom, Revelation, and Doubt: Perspectives on the First Millennium, B. C.; Kramer: The Sage in Sumerian Literature, 31–44; and R. Sweet: The Sage in Akkadian Literature: A Philological Study, in: The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, 45–65. For an examination of women sages, see R. Harris: The Female ‘Sage’ in Mesopotamian Literature, in: The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, 3–17.

28

Leo G. Perdue

apkallu, iggigallu, ummānu, and nēmequ).67 The students who were educated to become scribes and occasionally to enter into higher service came from the upper echelons of Sumerian and later Assyro-Babylonian societies. This was a major feature of Sumero-Akkadian society, for the children (primarily sons) of kings, aristocrats, governors, temple administrators, ambassadors, and army officers were destined by reason of class to enter into the upper ranks of government, temple, and military life. Kramer has surmised that the first true sages were temple priests and administrators of the city of Erech, who devised the semipictographic form of writing that eventually was developed into a phonetic system of syllabic and ideographic script.68 Their major responsibility was the writing and copying of documents, and through this literary activity they preserved the culture of their societies. Most served as administrative, royal scribes and some even specialized in a variety of professions, from astrology to medicine, to the singing of hymns, to the copying, redacting, writing, and archiving of documents. A few became famous scholars, like, e. g., Šaggil-kinam-ubbib, who immortalized himself in producing an acrostic text that presents the problem of divine justice: “The Babylonian Theodicy.” Each line of every successive stanza had a syllabic sign that, together, read, “I, Šaggil-kinamubbib the incantation priest, am the worshipper of the god and the king.” Palace scribes (see the Sumerian dur-sar-é-gal) were required for the manifold duties of overseeing and running a kingdom. The vizier oversaw a large body of scribes in the court. The king’s scribe was likely his royal secretary, while many other scribes were responsible for royal inscriptions, accounting for donations to the temple, and the composition of texts that included king lists and eventually even chronicles. Palace scribes likely composed hymns in praise of a ruler, disputation texts, epic legends, and myths.69 The diviner (bārû) who could acquire knowledge of the gods also was active under royal patronage. Sweet refers especially to Neo-Assyrian letters as the best attestation to the existence of sages in the courts of Mesopotamia.70 According to Kramer the portrait of the ideal king in Sumerian royal hymns speaks of him as the offspring of the gods and thus divine, the re67  Y. Rosengarten: Le nom et la function de ‘sage’ dans les practiques religieuses de Sumer et d’Akkad, RHR 162 (1962), 133–146. 68  Kramer: The Sage in Sumerian Literature, 31. 69  R. Sweet: The Sage in Mesopotamian Palaces and Royal Courts, in: The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, 103–104. 70  Sweet: The Sage in Mesopotamian Palaces and Royal Courts, in: The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, 105–107. He draws his information especially from S. Parpola: Letters from Assyrian Scholars to the Kings Esarhaddon and Assurbanipal 2, AOAT 5, Neukirchen-Vluyn 1970–1983. Parpola notes that two of the letters are composed by the ummânu, “scribe.”



Introduction

29

cipient of blessings, especially from Enlil. The king’s office and activities were governed according to the royal me, he brought blessing and well being to his people, and he was a graduate of the edubba, making him literate, wise, and knowledgeable of the scribal crafts. He was the perfect man who was courageous, wise, pious, just, and powerful. Šulgi was especially the one who spoke of his education and knowledge of the scribal arts, was a diviner, and served as a wise counselor. Through his sacred marriage to Inanna, he made the land, animals, and population fertile. He may have ascended into the heavens as a god at death. At least Dumuzi, in the myth of “Inanna’s Descent into the Underworld,” is allowed immortality for half of each year. Several kings claimed not only to be wise, but also to be master scribes, including Šulgi, Lipit-Ishtar, and in particular Ashurbanipal.71 Indeed, Sweet notes that the sage par excellence was the king.72 The personal name Šarru-mūda (“the king is wise”) is attested in the early Sargonic period (24th century, B. C. E.). This wisdom was a divine endowment. For example, five centuries later, Kudurmabug of Zamutbal, father of Rim-Sin of Larsa, proclaims that the god had given him “wise understanding” (uzun iggigallim) to build a temple of baked brick.73 Hammurabi (1792–1750 B. C. E.) also attests to his reception of divinely given wisdom in the prologue to his law code. He is the one who is “a wise man (emqum) who gets things done, one who has attained all wisdom (uršum).” Similar claims to royal wisdom are present in the period of the Sargonid dynasty, especially those made by Sargon II. Also Merodach-baladan II (721–710 B. C. E.) claims not only the throne of Babylon, but also that he was a wise ruler. Sennacherib (703–681 B. C. E.) also prides himself with being a wise king and a recipient of divine wisdom, especially in regard to his building projects. Esarhaddon (680–669 B. C. E.) speaks of his wisdom when building temples and fashioning cultic projects. Perhaps the king most laudatory of his own wisdom was Ashurbanipal (668–627 B. C. E.). He states that while he was still living in the crown prince’s quarters, he learned the divine wisdom (nmequ) of Nabû. He tells of later receiving understanding and intelligence from Marduk and the scribal craft of Nabû. He speaks of having learned the art of the sage, apkallu, that of Adapa, and that, being the possessor of all scribal learning, he could, among other things, read inscriptions from the time prior to the Flood.74 Neo-Babylonian kings also made similar claims 71  S. Denning-Bolle: Wisdom in Akkadian Literature: Expression, Instruction, Dialogue, Leiden 1992. 72  Sweet: The Sage in Akkadian Literature, in: The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, 65. 73  Sweet: The Sage in Akkadian Literature, in: The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, 51. 74  See Sweet: The Sage in Akkadian Literature, 55.

30

Leo G. Perdue

of having received divine wisdom and that they were wise and learned (see Nabopolasar, Nebuchadnezzar II, and Nabonidus).75 However, in regard to royal wisdom, Sweet makes the following observation: “The wisdom of kings was therefore not a bookish or intellectual affair. It was largely a matter of recognizing the supremacy of the gods and performing deeds pleasing to them. Reverence for the gods was the beginning of wisdom.”76 These deeds included engaging in building projects, including especially temples to the gods. By comparison, as noted above, Solomon, whose wisdom was extolled in Israelite, Judahite, and later Jewish tradition, is also presented in legendary lore as the great wise man who established righteousness, ruled with justice over his people, and engaged in building projects, in particular the temple and royal palace of Jerusalem. The association of priests who possessed the wisdom of sacred lore and rituals points to the existence of schools for this more advanced type of knowledge where priestly sages tutored these youths who were going to enter the priesthood. These schools would have taught rituals as well as mythic texts for important celebrations, including the akitu or festival of the New Year. They also were taught the knowledge of reading the future through a variety of means, including, e. g., extispicy, augury, and exorcism of demons. It is possible that some of these schools were temple ones, in addition to the usual “tablet houses.” Kramer points to the temple as one of the major settings in life for the activities of the sages. He suggests that the temple high priest/priestess (en) and administrator, the sanga, were likely educated in the edubba or by a tutor or ummia. This would explain the close relationship between temple and school theology and thought. Yet, the sages still were pessimistic when it came to the major features of their worldview. Human mortality and the destiny of the tomb were often the basis of laments. Humans, destined to mortality, were made of the watery clay of the flood waters and were created for the single purpose of serving the gods much like household slaves. At death, the human spirit simply went into the dark netherworld to experience a dark, dreadful existence. Human suffering was due to sin, and all were sinners. The only hope humans had to escape from suffering and degradation while alive was to resort to their personal god who offered protection from evil spirits and disastrous events. Akkadian legend refers to Adapa as a priest who knew the mind of the Anunnaki. Indeed, these priests, like other sages of the schools and court, traced their knowledge of secret wisdom and rituals to the prediluvian apkallus. Professions that required a particular type of knowledge or expertise included craftsmen, architects and builders, soldiers, cult officials (especially 75  76 

Sweet: The Sage in Akkadian Literature, 56–57. This is true of sages in Israel and later Judaism.



Introduction

31

in regard to their knowledge of rituals), diviners (who knew the omen literature), exorcists (who used incantations and spells to control demonic powers), musicians, physicians, counselors, and teachers. It is surprising that very few references are made to asking the sages for counsel. It is interesting to note that while many professions required wise people to practice them, the vocabulary of wisdom is not limited to sages as a special class.77 One might argue the same with regard to Israel and Judah. However, in my estimation, some of the descriptive nouns and adjectives of the vocabulary of “wisdom” are used to speak of a skill and a knowledge necessary to participate in a particular craft. Yet, this does not preclude the existence of a class of professional sages who were employed by the royal court, engaged in literary tasks, and were educated in sapiential schools.

Sages, Scribes, and Seers in Ugaritic and Aramaic Wisdom Ugaritic Wisdom Literature78 consists of Sumerian, Akkadian, Hurrian, and bilingual texts, with the dominant language being Akkadian. In addition, there are Ugaritic texts that have parallels in Emar and Boghazkoi. The presence of these texts demonstrates the role Ugarit and other Canaanite cities likely played in international wisdom. The wisdom texts, while sparse in number, include one involving a righteous sufferer, a lament of a sufferer to Marduk, fragments of the Gilgamesh epic, proverbs, and an instruction. Nougayrol provides transliterations and commentary for these texts. These bilingual texts prove that Mesopotamian wisdom influenced the cultures of Syro-Palestine, including most likely Israel and Judah as well. These texts also point to an even wider geographical and cultural set of locations for international wisdom. Khanjian’s unpublished dissertation points to a considerable number of parallels between nine texts (Akkadian) and Old Testament wisdom literature. He indicates “that there must be some affinity between the two sapiential traditions,” including the same setting in life for the two traditions: the court school. The conclusion he draws is that “in Israel as well as in the rest of the ancient Near East, the aim of wisdom was to teach the 77  Sweet: The Sage in Akkadian Literature, in: The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, 65. 78  For Ugarit, see J. Nougayrol, Ugaritica V, ed. by C. F. A. Schaeffer (Mission de Ras Shamra 16), Paris 1968; J. Khanjian: Wisdom in Ugarit and in the Ancient Near East with Particular Emphasis on Old Testament Wisdom Literature, Ph. D. Dissertation, Claremont Graduate School, 1974; L. Mack-Fisher: The Scribe (and Sage) in the Royal Court at Ugarit, in: The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, 109–115; and A. Rainey: The Scribe at Ugarit: His Position and Influence, Proceedings of the Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities 3 (1969) 126–146.

32

Leo G. Perdue

skill of life so that man might master life and achieve the desired better life on this earth.” Two major conclusions may be drawn from the wisdom literature at Ugarit. First, it is clear that Ugarit was dependent on the wisdom tradition that preceded it in Mesopotamia and used it as the classical source for the education of their scribes. The knowledge of Akkadian was increasingly important in the Late Bronze Age. Second, it proves that there was a wisdom tradition in Syro-Palestine before the arrival of the people who called themselves the “Sons of Israel.” These points strongly suggest that Mesopotamian wisdom likely impacted that of Israel and Judah and that there was a foreign wisdom that likely flourished in Canaanite city-states and eventually the later cultures of Syria-Palestine. Canaan became the conduit for Mesopotamian influence, at least in the First Temple.

Aramaic Wisdom Literature: The Sayings of Ahiqar 79 One of the primary examples of a sage in the ancient Near East is Ahiqar, presented in the attached, introductory narrative as an Assyrian official of high rank, whose story and teachings were preserved in the library of Elephantine and in Warqa during the Seleucid period. From these distant geographical locations, it is clear the text was a popular one that was known in numerous cultures of the eastern Mediterranean world. Based on a rigorous linguistic analysis, Kottsieper suggests that the sayings could be dated at the beginning of the seventh century, B. C. E., if not earlier.80 The original locale for the sayings may have been Aram, between Assyria and Canaan. This is based on the similarity of the Aramaic to Canaanite and the three deities who are mentioned: Shamash, El, and Baal Shamayn. Likely, a sage from Aram, or a Jewish scribe who possessed a copy, transported this text to Elephantine sometime in the sixth or fifth centuries B. C. E. The consensus is that there are two separate texts, a narrative and a list of sayings, both written in Aramaic. The sayings provide evidence of a more archaic literary style than the more standard Imperial Aramaic of the narrative. The thesis that this text in its two parts is an Aramaic translation of an original cuneiform text written in Akkadian is no longer held. There are no Akkadian loanwords or Persian words in the sayings.

79  See especially I. Kottsieper: Die Sprache der Ahiqarsprüche, BZAW 194, Berlin/New York 1990, whose work of reconstructing and interpreting the text is excellent. For his introduction and translation, see Die Geschichte und die Sprüche des weisen Achiqar, TUAT III/1, 320–347. Also see J. Lindenberger: The Aramaic Proverbs of Ahiqar, Baltimore 1983. 80  See Kottsieper: Die Geschichte und die Sprüche des weisen Achiqar.



Introduction

33

The sayings collection, while not complete, suffers from significant deterioration that makes it difficult to translate in places. The nine columns of proverbs that have survived contain two that are less than half the length of the original and two others that are fragments. Kottsieper has reconstructed the text in a detailed and careful study, but he has to suggest numerous hypotheses for readings to offer a coherent translation. The narrative is much better preserved and thus more easily read. The narrative of Ahiqar, written originally in Imperial Aramaic, tells the story of a vizier to King Esarhaddon of Assyria, by the name of Ahiqar, “a wise and skillful scribe,” during the reign of Esarhaddon. The sayings present a variety of themes dealing with sagacious speech and behavior, but of special importance is the presentation of the king who possesses glory and great power and especially stressed is the warning not to offend him because of the dire consequences that will result. The themes of the betrayal, unjust loss of position, imprisoning, and restitution are common to prose tales of the ancient Near East, including the Joseph Narrative. However, this does not mean there is no historical basis to the life and activity of the vizier Ahiqar. One very late literary text from Warqa reads, “In the time of King Esarhaddon, a-ba-dNINNU-da-ri whom the Aramaeans call ma-u-’u-qa-a-ri was ummānu.”81 While this is a tablet dating from the Seleucid period, it does point to a tradition of an Aramaean wise man, Ahiqar, who held the position of a sage, in the late Assyrian period. It suggests a widespread literary tradition of Ahiqar, but is not evidence of his historicity. This text also correlates to the fact that evidence of Aramaic scribes can be found in the court of the Neo-Babylonian empire, especially as Aramaic continued to become the lingua franca of the Levant.82 The different positioning of the sayings within the narrative in the later versions suggests a lengthy redaction and tradition of copying of the text. In addition, there is nothing in the sayings themselves that suggests a direct relationship to the narrative, thus underlining the case made for the separate origins of the two. When it comes to finding a parallel to Job, 81  See J. J. A. van Dijk: Die Inschriftfund, XVIII, Vorläufiger Bericht über die von dem Deutschen Archäologischen Institut und der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft aus Mitteln der Deutschen Forschungsgemeinschaft unternommenen Ausgrabungen in Uruk-Warka, Berlin 1962, 45, ll. 19–20, 51–52; and J. Greenfield: Background and Paraellel to a Proverb of Ahiqar, in: A. Caquot/M. Philonenko (ed.), Homages à André Dupont-Sommer, Paris 1971, 48–59. W. von Soden has argued that there are parallels between Ahiqar and Nadin and an Assyrian text from around the time of Esarhaddon. This latter story differs in its details from Ahiqar, but it is quite similar in speaking of the evil behavior of a vizier and his replacement by his son (Die Unterweltsvision eines assyrischen Kronprinzen, ZA 43 [1936] 11–13). 82  M. Dietrich: Babylonische Sklaven auf der Schreiberschule: Anspielungen auf Tupsarrūtu-Lehrverträge in OIP 114,83 und YOS 19,110, in W. van Soldt (ed.), Veenhof anniversary volume: Studies presented to Klaas R. Veenhof on the occasion of his sixty-fifth birthday, Leiden 2001, 67–81.

34

Leo G. Perdue

both the sayings and legend of Ahiqar assist in pointing to another example of wisdom literature in the ancient Near East where a separate narrative tale and a poetic text (sayings in one and largely disputations in the other) are eventually yoked together. This story, similar to the narratives of Joseph, Solomon, Job, Baruch, and Ezra, originally served as a model for the inculcation of virtues. The sayings have many parallels to other ancient Near Eastern texts, especially the Book of Proverbs. They speak of proper decorum, moral behavior, righteous speech, piety, and the powerful place of the monarchy. Together, the sayings and the latter narrative comprised a text used for instruction of students who were studying in an Aramaic school.

Conclusions The following essays, written by scholars who are recognized experts in the wisdom literatures of the area in which they write, provide a detailed look at the variety of social roles and locations of the sages and scribes of the eastern Mediterranean world. What will emerge is a composite of functions and settings that are surprisingly similar. These sages and scribes created the cultural worlds of peoples and empires that survived for centuries. Indeed, the literary activity of Jewish sages shaped and preserved a tradition that has continued to the present.

II. Scribes, Sages, and Seers in Ancient Egypt Thomas Schneider

Knowledge and Knowledgeable Persons in Ancient Egypt: Queries and Arguments about an Unsettled Issue Introduction The concept of wisdom and the literary genre of wisdom literature are among the most influential categories imposed on Egyptology by the field of Biblical Studies.1 The present volume itself strives for a social embedding of the “sages” or “the wise” in an attempt to understand more accurately Eastern Mediterranean (and within it, Egyptian) “wisdom” literature. At the same time, the editor has encouraged the authors to be more precise about the fundamental terminological issues. The unease about applying the external terms of “wisdom” and “sage” to an Egyptian universe of ideas that lacks clear lexical equivalents has culminated in Miriam Lichtheim’s evaluation from 1997 where she states: “The concept of ‘wisdom’, abstract, variable, and vague as it is, cannot exist without the body of a lexeme. In fact, it came into being – in the middle of the first millennium B. C. E. – when the old lexeme sophia, meaning ‘skill,’ was endowed with new, spiritual content by the sayings and writings of Herakleitos, Pindar, Plato, and others, and when biblical ‘wisdom,’ hokhma, posted herself on a street corner in the Book of Proverbs (Prov 8).”2 These reservations also apply to the idea of prophecy, which again has found its way into Egyptology from Old Testament studies although nothing equivalent to it ever existed in Ancient Egypt.3 But the idea of Egyptian wisdom also owes much 1  M. Lichtheim: Moral Values in Ancient Egypt, OBO 155, Fribourg/Göttingen 1997, 7; P. Vernus: Sagesses de l’Égypte pharaonique, Paris 2001, 9. 2  Lichtheim: Moral Values, 8 and similar 93, where she argues that modern study “cannot supply what was not there, what came into being only in the middle of the first millennium B. C. E., when Greek philosophers debated and exalted sophia, and when okhmâ made her great missionary speech in Proverbs chapter 8.” 3  On late “prophecies” and the terminological problems, cf. the contributions in A. Blasius/B. U. Schipper (eds.), Apokalyptik und Ägypten. Eine kritische Analyse der rele-

36

Thomas Schneider

of its longevity to the influential aftermath of Ancient Egypt. In the eyes of Biblical and Classical Antiquity and the subsequent European history of ideas, Ancient Egypt was perceived as an exclusive stronghold of comprehensive knowledge and hermetic wisdom.4 Until the present day, this Egyptosophy – to use a term coined by Erik Hornung5 – has cherished the view of an Egypt that reveals hidden insight into the nature of the cosmos to those initiated into her mysteries and able to interpret the emblematics of her hieroglyphs.6 Ancient Egypt survived the end of her civilization in an Egyptianizing, imaginary form, so to speak, a cipher that promised a covert primordial knowledge. This defamiliarized appearance of Ancient Egypt had its roots in different processes of cultural assimilation just as much as cultural seclusion. The Hellenistic-Roman koine shaped an Egyptianizing religion which claimed that it was Isis who initiated humanity into her mysteries, an arcane knowledge.7 A process opposed to this Hellenization of Egyptian religion was the canonizing of the cultural knowledge of Egypt in her Late Period and antique temples. This entailed an increasing seclusion of Egypt into her sacral precincts, inevitably evoking the impression that her religion was all the more hermetic and inaccessible.8

vanten Texte aus dem griechisch-römischen Ägypten, OLA 107, Leuven/Paris/Sterling, VA 2002. 4  E. Hornung: Das esoterische Ägypten. Das geheime Wissen der Ägypter und sein Einfluß auf das Abendland, München 1999 (English edition: The Secret Lore of Egypt: Its Impact on the West, Ithaca 2002). 5  Hornung: Das esoterische Ägypten; id., Hermetische Weisheit: Umrisse einer Ägyptosophie, in: E. Staehelin/B. Jaeger (eds.), Ägypten-Bilder, OBO 150, Fribourg/Göttingen 1997, 333–342. 6  A. Assmann/J. Assmann (eds.), Hieroglyphen. Stationen einer anderen abendländischen Grammatologie (Archäologie der literarischen Kommunikation VIII), München 2003; W. Schmidt-Biggemann: Hermes Trismegistos, Isis und Osiris in Athanasius Kirchers “Oedipus Aegyptiacus,” Archiv für Religionsgeschichte 3 (2001), 67–88. 7  J. Assmann: Weisheit und Mysterium. Das Bild der Griechen von Ägypten, München 2000; id., Ägyptische Geheimnisse, München 2004; W. Burkert: Mysterien der Ägypter in griechischer Sicht. Projektionen im Kulturkontakt, in: J. Assmann/M. Bommas (eds.), Ägyptische Mysterien? München 2002, 9–26; R. Merkelbach: Isis regina – Zeus Serapis, München 2 2001; R. Schulz: Warum Isis? Gedanken zum universellen Charakter einer ägyptischen Göttin im Römischen Reich, in: M. Görg/G. Hölbl (eds.), Ägypten und der östliche Mittelmeerraum im 1. Jahrtausend v. Chr. Akten des Interdisziplinären Symposions am Institut für Ägyptologie der Universität München 25.–27. 10. 1996, ÄAT 44, Wiesbaden 2000, 251–280. 8  J. Assmann: Der Tempel der ägyptischen Spätzeit als Kanonisierung kultureller Identität, in: J. Osing (ed.), The Heritage of Ancient Egypt. Studies in Honour of Erik Iversen, CNI publications 13, Copenhagen 1992, 9–25.



Knowledge and Knowledgeable Persons in Ancient Egypt

37

Seeking an Egyptian View of Knowledge In view of the intensity of the academic discourse about this refigured appearance of Egypt and the wisdom ascribed to it, it is striking to notice that the topic of information, knowledge, wisdom, and science as understood within the Egyptian civilization itself has received little analytical attention.9 A “lack of clarity in the fundamentals” (Unklarheit im Grundsätzlichen) such as diagnosed in 1974 by Jan Assmann in the field of Egyptian literature10 is obvious and may have an implicit reason in the origins of the discipline (see below, p. 38). Predominant are preconceived and often vague ideas about the applicability of terms including “knowledge,” “wisdom,” or “science,” best visible in the strict separation between magic and science that is still popular in Egyptology,11 although both are centered on the same Egyptian concept of r (“knowledge”). The application of modern concepts cannot be expected to reflect in any reliable way genuine Egyptian concepts. Peter Burke has emphasized the necessity of leaving aside modern preconceptions in the study of other cultures of knowledge: “We need to defamiliarize ourselves with European categories, to learn to regard them as no less strange or constructed than those of (say) the Chinese. Foucault made this point with the aid of a fable borrowed from Jorge Luis Borges about the categories of animal to be found in a Chinese encyclopedia – animals belonging to the emperor, those drawn with a fine camel-hair brush, those which from far off look like flies, and so on. The fable vividly illustrates the apparent arbitrariness of any system of categories when it is viewed from outside.”12 Researching the Egyptian concepts of knowledge thus will reveal not only insight into how the Egyptians mapped its world, but also how Egyptology mapped the world of the Egyptians on its modern grids.

Two Previous Attempts: Baines and Assmann While few Egyptological attempts have been undertaken to systematize Egyptian knowledge in terms of its acquisition, organization, disponibility, and use, and while the general debate in the field of the theory of The keyterm of “knowledge” does not exist in any of the Egyptological encyclopedias. J. Assmann: Der literarische Text im alten Ägypten. Versuch einer Begriffsbestimmung, in: OLZ 69 (1974), 117–126. 11  Th. Schneider: Die Waffe der Analogie. Altägyptische Magie als System, in: M. Bach­ mann/M. Gloy (eds.), Analogiedenken. Vorstöße in ein neues Gebiet der Rationalitätsforschung, Freiburg/München 2000, 3–85. 12  P. Burke: A Social History of Knowledge. From Gutenberg to Diderot, Cambridge 2000, 82. 9 

10 

38

Thomas Schneider

knowledge has not been taken into consideration,13 a couple of laudable exceptions need to be mentioned. John Baines has breached the preponderant Egyptological opinion about knowledge, which he calls the “unifying view of Egyptology.”14 According to that view, Egyptian thinking did not strive for systematic organization and provided open access to knowledge. It ignored the existence of secluded knowledge at the unique disposal of very restricted groups of Egyptian professionals. This Egyptological prejudice seems to have emerged as a counterweight to the picture of an Egypt of mysteries, proliferating even to the present, from which Egyptology had to emancipate itself when it emerged as an academic discipline in the 19th century. It was sanctioned by a discipline that tended to exclude ideas not in conformity with established rules and conditions of adherence to the discipline. John Baines bases his arguments on the preliminaries that “knowledge is an instrument of power, is integral to socialization, and is a resource subject to controls for which the basic premise is that no one knows everything.” He adds that, in complex societies, knowledge, both secular and religious, mostly has a complex distribution. Emphasizing the fact that much restricted knowledge will never be obvious to us for the very reason that it was never meant to be fixed in writing, he adduces explicit textual evidence of restricted knowledge in the domain of religion (solar cult, cosmic order, magic, and ritual). The idea of the restriction or secrecy of knowledge is conveyed by the expression of t (“secret,” “secrecy”), and the texts state explicitly that covert knowledge is not commonly understandable but needs interpretation.15 He underlines the necessity to set knowledge in a social context as the degree of its restriction, accessibility, and type of use depended largely on social status, professional rank, and the decorum of ideology. Jan Assmann has repeatedly described the pivotal importance of secrecy in Egyptian religion and presented it as the very model of a religion of secrecy.16 He stresses the functional importance of secret knowledge for the ritual perpetuation of the universe – as long as the restriction of know­ ledge and its exclusive application by priests can be warranted, the universe 13  Cf. the contributions in K. Gloy, Von der Weisheit zur Wissenschaft. Eine Genealogie und Typologie der Wissensformen, Freiburg/München 2007. 14  J. Baines: Restricted Knowledge, Hierarchy, and Decorum: Modern Perceptions and Ancient Institutions, JARCE 27 (1990), 1–23. 15  L. D. Morenz: (Magische) Sprache der “geheimen Kunst,” SAK 24 (1997), 191–201 (where j, mw.t št.t should be paraphrased as “interpreter of the secret skill/science”); and idem: Beiträge zur Schriftlichkeitskultur im Mittleren Reich und in der Zweiten Zwischenzeit, ÄAT 29, Wiesbaden 1996, ch. III.1.a. 16  J. Assmann: Ägyptische Geheimnisse, München 2004, particularly chapters 7–9; and id.: Magische Weisheit. Wissensformen im ägyptischen Kosmotheismus, in: A. Assmann (ed.), Weisheit, München 1991, 241–258, reprinted in J. Assmann: Stein und Zeit. Mensch und Gesellschaft im Alten Ägypten, München 1991, 59–75.



Knowledge and Knowledgeable Persons in Ancient Egypt

39

is secured. However, a disclosure of the secret insight into its mechanisms puts an irreversible end to it. It may be noted that the different points of view expressed by Baines and Assmann reflect diverging approaches as to whether attitudes and actions of practitioners of knowledge should be considered literal (an instrument to attain the ritual aim) or symbolic (an instrument to demarcate the group’s social position).

Problems of a Typology of Knowledge To map more precisely the wide range of types of knowledge and their interplay, the different degrees and conditions of their accessibility and use, and the large and divergent community of secular and religious knowers is an obvious necessity. All the same obvious is the complexity of this task. A look at two pertinent attempts reveals more clearly what the intricacies of this task are. The first is Aleida Assmann’s proposal for how to typologize sapiential forms of knowledge.17 She delimits wisdom from other forms of knowledge (such as professional knowledge)18 and advocates a division into four sapiental types, which are labeled as succinct ciphers – Solomon and three figures from Shakespeare – from the Western history of ideas. The typology thus achieved comprises: (1) a ruling wisdom of Solomon (die herrschaftliche Weisheit des Salomo), which contains the knowledge of ruling (including historical know­ ledge, the acquaintance with the social and cosmic order, and astronomical and astrological knowledge), (2) the magical wisdom of Prospero (die magische Weisheit des Prospero), which is an operational, “esoteric” knowledge making use of and manipulating cosmic forces and producing descriptive literature of the kind of the Egyptian guides to the Underworld,19 (3) the paternal wisdom of Polonius, which is the less exclusive form of practical knowledge needed for life, serving the purpose of socializing and being transmitted from one generation to the other, (4) the skeptical wisdom of Jacques, which in more fundamental terms expresses doubt concerning the sense of striving for wisdom. Probably, this typology was meant to stir a debate about the “plurality of knowledges”20 rather than to provide a universal clue for the classification 17  A. Assmann: Was ist Weisheit? Wegmarken in einem weiten Feld, in: A. Assmann (ed.), Weisheit, 1–44. 18  She lists as criteria of wisdom the depth of cognition, its difficult attainability, and its existential suitability. 19  Cf. J. Assmann: Magische Weisheit. 20  Burke: History of Knowledge, 13–17.

40

Thomas Schneider

of knowledge. When applied to Egypt, it immediately reveals its limits. Knowing the cosmic order (Solomon) and putting its forces to use (Prospero) cannot be assigned to different intellectual categories but rather to instrumental categories like ars and scientia, practice and theory, and even then it can be represented in the activity and thought of the same Egyptian practitioner. Egyptian tombs may display astronomy (Solomon) and the Underworld (Prospero) side by side, both of which might be labeled as knowledge about cosmic topography. The awareness of the social system (Solomon) is not likely to be typologically different from the knowledge of socialization (Polonius) – the older Egyptian instructional literature is the authorized (Solomon) paradigm of how future officials are to be educated and socialized (Polonius). At long last, the wisdom of Jacques appears to be the fundamental counterposition to the first three categories rather than a subcategory of wisdom. As such, skepticism can indeed form a regular and integral part of all these particular types of knowledge, to mention the Dialogue between a Person in Despair (Jacques) and his Soul (Solomon), or the epilogue of the Instruction of Ani with its fierce argument about the sense of pedagogics (Jacques against Polonius). With regard to the differentiation introduced by Baines, these categories imply different degrees of literacy, restriction, social disponibility, and to what extent they are rather theoretical/passive or practical/active. This fracture line is also visible in Jan Assmann’s classification of literature and the functions of writing, where literature splits into (theoretical) literature of knowledge, (practical) literature of education and (practical) literature of recitation (with archives and monuments set apart as the two categories besides literature) and where the function of writing as an archiving tool in administration and cult appears in both a practical and a theoretical shape: (practical) documents vs. literature of knowledge and again (practical) literature of recitation vs. (theoretical) literature of knowledge. 21 Either attempt points to the diversity of knowledge but is also proof of the complexity of applying modern categories to the Egyptian evidence. Is there any Egyptian text advising us how knowledge was understood?

21  J. Assmann: Kulturelle und literarische Texte, in: A. Loprieno (ed.), Ancient Egyptian Literature. History and Forms (PÄ 10), Leiden 1990, 59–82, esp. 65 and 68. The fourth type of literature omitted above is the very much debated category of entertainment literature. Note that in the comprehensive diagram (82) the connecting line between education and literature of knowledge from 68 is missing.



Knowledge and Knowledgeable Persons in Ancient Egypt

41

An Egyptian Treatise on Knowledge: The Book of Thot A genuinely Egyptian text of the first century C. E., written in Demotic script and language, has recently been brought to the attention of Egyptology. 22 This composition exposes to us an extraordinary dialogue between a god “Who praises knowledge” (s-r) and a man “Who loves knowledge” (mr-r). The god in question is Thot, the Egyptian god of knowledge, while the man represents the exemplary disciple in pursuit of knowledge and erudition. Let us go through a more systematic conspectus of the information contained in this text: The nature of knowledge. The knowledge striven for in the Book of Thot is restricted and sacred. The disciple seeks Thot’s secret chambers or his seven fields (the places where his knowledge, the insight into the cosmic order, is revealed). He learns (the contents of) “the book of Insight, the book of Power, the book of Annals, the book of the Djed-pillar (?), the book of Interpretation, and he drinks in the book of the collection of the Praises, and the book of Honoring their Father who is Powerful, and he discerns the book of Secrets, and he elucidates the Praises, and he becomes an apprentice of the servant of Thot.” The disciple is an expert in the sacred geography of Egypt’s 42 nomes (a possible symbol for Thot’s 42 sacred books). “Taking possession of the teaching,” he knows the celestial constellations and navigates the ship of the sun-god in the netherworld. He has fought against the enemies of the sun god in the darkness of the underworld and has seen Thot “thrice-great,” while he was a sacred monkey in the ship of the sun god, vanquish the sun god’s archenemy, Apophis: “I have seen the ape who punished the snake, who has split the earth by means of his effective magic.” The disciple who has reached this stage of knowledge has not only a comprehensive understanding of the covert structure of the universe but is also an active participant in it. The acquisition of knowledge. The text praises the scribal art as the only access to knowledge. Copying sacred texts leads to knowledge, and this process is metaphorically seen as the disciple’s swimming in the ocean of knowledge: “The sea is the papyrus-roll; its banks are its papyrus-reeds […] Swim in it, little one […] do not despise it until its lord (Thot) permits you to swim in it […]”. When it is stated that the disciple is instructed by Thot, this encompasses the acquisition of knowledge through the study of 22  R. Jasnow/K.-T. Zauzich: The Ancient Egyptian Book of Thot. A Demotic Discourse on Knowledge and Pendant to the Classical Hermetica, Wiesbaden 2005 (had not yet appeared when the present text was written). R. Jasnow/K.-T. Zauzich: A Book of Thot?, in: Proceedings of the Seventh International Congress of Egyptologists, Cambridge, 3–9 September 1995, OLA 82, Leuven 1998, 607–618.

42

Thomas Schneider

sacred texts. Being instructed (sb) by Thot is compared to being nursed by a nursemaid. Knowledge itself is personified as a nurse from whose breast the disciple drinks milk: “May one tell me the nurse who nurtures language (sn spy) that I may nurse from her breast.” He nurses from “the breast of wisdom” and demands: “Behold my mouth is open, may one give to it milk.” In other images, the acquisition of knowledge is expressed more explicitly in sexual terms (“The vulva is impatient for the teaching, may I enter its threshold”) or by reference to the well metaphor (“Reveal to me the well, which is the well of the wise, that I may drink from its sweet water”). The disciple “drinks (swr) the book of the collection of the Praises,” which means that the disciple either used the magical practice of washing off magical manuscripts and drinking the liquid that contained the spell’s effectiveness23 or that he, as a deliberate counterposition to this practice for the illiterate, “drinks in the book” (this is the editors’ translation) through his reading and copying. The seeker for knowledge (“the seven fields of Thot”) is equated with the farmer, while his crop or harvest is the knowledge he gains. He who is a skilled scribe and willing to work will learn beyond limits, while he who is incapable or unworthy of it will inevitably fail. A subchapter much like the genre of the earlier instructional literature, “The Little Book of Advice (s sbk nn),” advises the disciple to develop the basic social virtues of humility, prudence, dignity, industriousness, trust in god, and to abide by the law. Identity of the knowledgeable. The text gives some clear hints at the identity of the knowledgeable disciple who says about himself: “I bent my arm under the papyrus scroll of the great god,” a paraphrase of the priestly title “he who is under (= carrying) the papyrus roll,” the so-called lecturer or ritual priest (rj-bt). The composition mentions on several instances the “house of life,” the institution attached to temples where religious, cultural and scientific texts were composed and copied. 24 According to Jasnow and Zauzich, the present book about knowledge seems to be the creation of a house of life for its erudite members and could have been performed in a feast in honor of Imhotep, the professional god of scribes. 25

23  P. Eschweiler: Bildzauber im alten Ägypten. Die Verwendung von Bildern und Gegenständen in magischen Handlungen nach den Texten des Mittleren und Neuen Reiches, OBO 137, Fribourg/Göttingen 1994, 263 f; R. K. Ritner: The Mechanics of Ancient Egyptian Magical Practice, SAOC 54, Chicago 1993, 92–110. 24  K. Nordh: Aspects of Ancient Egyptian Curses and Blessings: Conceptual Background and Transmission, Uppsala 1996, 106–184, 193–215. 25  Jasnow/Zauzich, A Book of Thot, 616.



Knowledge and Knowledgeable Persons in Ancient Egypt

43

Evidence for the Egyptian Corpus of Knowledge In its emphasis on acquiring knowledge through the study of sacred writings and its hints at important fields of knowledge, this Egyptian text recalls Clement of Alexandria’s treatise on the education and initiation of the Egyptian scribe who eventually, as an accomplished priest, reaches the mastery of the 42 indispensable books of Thot-Hermes, which give him insight into the secrets of the world order and the power of securing the course of the universe. 26 This framework of knowledge is displayed in a procession of Egyptian priests of different rank described by Clement of Alexandria in which every priest carries the books of his competency (altogether 42) along with a symbol of his priestly position (and, accordingly, his level of knowledge): the first representative of knowledge, the singer, carries a book of hymns and a book with an account of the king’s life. The second priest (horoskopos) is in charge of four astronomical and astrological books. The competency of the third priest (hierogrammateus) is represented by ten books on cosmography and geography, Egypt and the Nile, and the construction, property, and equipment of temples. The fourth priest (stolistes) who also carries ten books is expert at education and performing the temple cult. Last in line and most proficient is the high priest, carrying ten books about laws, the gods, and the whole of priestly training. Complemented by six books on medicine, this comprehensive stock of knowledge is bound to be permanently applied in order to preserve Egypt’s cosmological and social order. It could be labeled a system of applied science abiding by strict rules. 27 An explicit, early corroboration of this view might be seen in the evidence of the Ramesseum hoard from the Middle Kingdom. Found in 1896 in a Middle Kingdom shaft beneath the storage rooms of the Ramesseum in Western Thebes, it comprised (according to the traditional numbering) 23 papyri and writing reeds in a wooden box and numerous objects for magical purposes, owned by a lecturer or ritual priest (rj-bt)28 like the model disciple of the book of Thot. The container had the shape of the hieroglyph    – which represents the Egyptian notation of the title rj-st, “he who

26  G. Fowden: The Egyptian Hermes. A Historical Approach to the Late Pagan Mind, Cambridge 1986, 58 f; Assmann, Ägyptische Geheimnisse, 203–209. 27  Cf. the frequent use of the term “priestly science,” e. g., A. von Lieven: Mysterien des Kosmos: Kosmographie und Priesterwissenschaft, in: Ägyptische Mysterien, 47–58; or J. ­Osing: La science sacerdotale: Le Décret de Memphis, in: Colloque de la Fondation SingerPolignac à l’occasion de la célébration du bicentenaire de la découverte de la Pierre de Rosette, Paris 2000, 127–140. 28  On the hoard and its owner, see L. D. Morenz: Beiträge zur Schriftlichkeitskultur im Mittleren Reich und in der 2. Zwischenzeit, ÄAT 29, Wiesbaden 1996, 144–154.

44

Thomas Schneider

is upon the secret/secrecy” (the ritualist or magician)29 but obviously also applied to the jackal in his protective lying posture “on top of the secret.” The latter interpretation would suggest the papyri enshrined within to be (at least partly) restricted knowledge. They encompass these categories of texts:30 (a) ritual texts (the majority), some medical,31 (b) literary discourses on justice and conduct of life: pRam. A (Eloquent Peasant), pRam. I (Sisobek), pRam. I fragm. D32, pRam. II (collection of pessimistic sayings), (c) a literary text about loyalty towards the king: pRam. A (Sinuhe), (d) an onomastic encyclopedia (pRam. D = pBerlin 10495) and reports from abroad: pRam. C rto. (Semna dispatches), pRam. XVIII (messages from the fortress Quban). Bearing in mind that the title of lecturer or ritual priest (rj-bt) is rendered in Greek as either stolistes or hierogrammateus,33 the fourth and fifth positions on the ladder of knowledge in Clement’s procession of priests, the Ramesseum holdings show a substantial extent of agreement with the competencies a learned priest had already acquired or was striving to obtain, and the fields of knowledge hinted at in the Book of Thot. At any rate, it indicates that the Egyptian categorization of knowledge and of literatures of knowledge displayed much constancy throughout Egypt’s history.

Where do the Sapiential Instructions belong? All three texts discussed in the foregoing paragraphs refer – most explicitly the Demotic treatise – to the process of teaching and being taught (sb) as a prerequisite for the disciple to be successful in the acquisition of knowledge (r). This fact provides an opportunity to embed within the comprehensive Egyptian framework of knowledge the group of texts, which traditionally had been considered – and had solely been considered – wisdom Ritner: Mechanics, 231 f. Disregarding texts of accounting which occupy the reverse side of a ritual papyrus: pRam. E vso., pRam. I vso., pRam. III vso., pRam. IV vso. 31  pRam. B (Dramatical Ramesseum Papyrus), pRam. C vso., pRam. E rto (funerary ritual), pRam. III, IV, VII (medical-magical), pRam. V (medical), pRam. VI (hymn to Sobek), pRam. VIII, IX, X, XI, XIV, XV, XVI (magical text), pRam. XII (invocation of demons), pRam. XIII (magical, cultic prescriptions), pRam. XVII (protective spells for the epagomenal days) 32  R. Parkinson: Poetry and Culture in Middle Kingdom Egypt. A Dark Side to Perfection, London 2002, 310 f. 33  Assmann: Ägyptische Geheimnisse, 160. 29 

30 



Knowledge and Knowledgeable Persons in Ancient Egypt

45

texts. Still in 1989, K. Römheld, a biblical scholar, expressed the view that Ancient Egypt did not develop any primary type of wisdom literature other than the “instruction,”34 an assertion which disregards the existence of the large bulk of Egyptian “literatures of knowledge” in which the instruction by no means can argue to have a privileged place. The biblical approach from which this essay took its starting point had established, from the early 20th century onward, an Egyptological canon of wisdom texts35 of which the genuine Egyptian designation was sbyt, “teaching, instruction.” In recent years the label “wisdom” has been abandoned largely in acknowledgment of the fact that relevant criteria (according to Aleida Assmann, the depth of cognition, its difficult attainability, and its existential suitability)36 only partially apply to these texts. It has been replaced by adaptations of the Egyptian term: (sapiential/wisdom) teaching, instruction, (Weisheits-)Lehre, Lebenslehre. However, the generic term allows us to place sapiential teachings in line with texts of knowledge that previously had never been put side by side, in an effort to defamiliarize us with preconceived categories. The term sbyt, “teaching, instruction,” is also the name of encyclopedic listings (onomastica) of items from specific areas, such as toponyms, professions, plants, animals, parts of the body, and so forth. These inventories provided their users with information on the constituents of this world and their significance, covering the complete range from administrative to religious use and progressing, in explicit instances such as the Brooklyn manual on snakes, from scientific observation to mythological interpretation.37 The Demotic Book of Thot, Clement of Alexandria’s account, and the Ramesseum evidence all enclose encyclopedic instructions as an indispensable access to a higher degree of knowledge. The educational instructions which traditionally were considered “wisdom” also provide information on a specific segment of the world – foundational social virtues (humility, prudence, dignity, industriousness, trust in god, and loyalty) and principles of conduct. As is obvious from these texts and also the “The Little Book of Advice (s sbk nn)” in the Demotic Book of Thot, this was considered the basic knowledge to be 34  K. F. D. Römheld: Die Weisheitslehre im alten Orient. Elemente einer Formgeschichte, BN Beihefte 4, München 1989, 17. 35  Cf. compilations like H. Brunner: Ägyptische Weisheit. Lehren für das Leben, Zürich 1988. 36  See n. 17. 37  Cf. A. Gardiner: Ancient Egyptian Onomastica, 3 Vols., London 1947; S. Sauneron: Un traité égyptien d’ophiologie: Papyrus Brooklyn 47.218.48 et 85, Le Caire 1988; Ch. Leitz: Die Schlangennamen in den ägyptischen und griechischen Giftbüchern, Akademie der Wissenschaften und der Literatur, Abhandlungen der geistes- und sozialwissenschaftlichen Klasse, 1997, Nr. 6, Stuttgart 1997; A. von Lieven: Das Göttliche in der Natur erkennen: Tiere, Pflanzen und Phänomene der unbelebten Natur als Manifestation des Göttlichen. Mit einer Edition der Baumliste P. Berlin 29027, ZÄS 131 (2004), 156–172.

46

Thomas Schneider

internalized by the scribe or disciple at an early stage of his education and to be perpetuated and taught to adepts later on. Essential knowledge from an Egyptian angle of view was not conveyed by the didactic instructions, but by a vast “graduate” literature of knowledge.

A Reappraisal of the Mapping of Knowledge in Ancient Egypt The precursor of this essay, Ronald J. Williams’s 1990 contribution about “The Sage in Egyptian Literature,”38 focused on didactic instructions and related texts (Writings of the Sages, 1–25) and only then turned to the roles and functions of Egyptian sages (pp. 25–29). Here, the reader stumbles on references to ritual, magical, and scientific writings, the institution of the House of Life as both a comprehensive kind of academy and a scriptorium par excellence of all kinds of texts. Here is mentioned the wide range of areas where a r-jt “one who knows things (often: ritual matters), i. e., a knowledgeable person,”39 may be encountered in texts far beyond the didactic writings themselves. This implicitly suggested already the necessity of assessing anew the topic of knowledge in Ancient Egypt from a genuinely Egyptian point of view, which has been emphasized by an exemplary choice of Egyptological and Egyptian voices in the present essay. By doing so, the traditionally prominent field of “wisdom” literature or instructions had eventually to be dismissed as a segment not at the very core of what would have been seen as knowledge or literature of knowledge in an Egyptian mind, but rather as an indispensable auxiliary in order to gain access to and achieve proficiency in essential knowledge. A comprehensive reappraisal of the mapping of knowledge in Ancient Egypt remains to be done, and will have to render meticulously an account of the evolution of this system over time, paying attention to specific fields of theory and practice, different disponibilities and degrees of knowledge, the range of institutional frames and educational centers, the mutual interdependence and exploitation of knowledge, and their social reception and significance.

38  R. Williams: The Sage in Egyptian Literature, in: J. Gammie/L. Perdue (eds.), The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, Winona Lake, IN 1990, 19–30. 39  An appropriate literal translation is German Sachverständiger.

III. Scribes, Sages, and Seers in Ancient Mesopotamia

Bendt Alster

Scribes and Wisdom in Ancient Mesopotamia The Early Development of the Scribal Profession in the 4th Millennium B. C. E. The earliest signs of cuneiform writing in Mesopotamia started in Uruk in southern Iraq (Uruk period iv a, ca. 3400 B. C. E.), culminating in Uruk periods iii c-a and Jemdet Nasr, ca. 3200–2900 B. C. E. Contrary to commonly held expectations, these activities had nothing to do with the recording of mental ideas, or the transmission of verbal “messages.” The early scribes were mere accountants, and, although they played a decisive role as developers of early writing, there is no trace of “literary” texts in the earliest periods. Lexical lists, on the other hand, testify to the methods used in the development and teaching of the writing system, and their persistence in scribal education.1

The Emergence of Literary Texts in the 3rd millennium B. C. E. in a Bilingual Setting The first large corpus of literary texts are Sumerian texts from Fara (Shuruppak) and Abu Salabikh (ancient name unknown) in southern Iraq, as well as “Semitic” or Sumero-Eblaitic bilingual texts from Ebla (Tell Mardhik) in Syria. These date from the Fara-period, ED iii a, approximately 2600–2500 B. C. E. The discovery of the Eblaitic sources is remarkable, because this is the first example of the Sumerian script, in origin basically logographic, being imported into a foreign area and used for writing a Semitic language. 1  The earliest literary text dates somewhat later, i. e., to archaic Ur (Ur Excavations Texts, London, 2, 69 = Early Dynastic i [ca. 2900 B. C. E.]). Like all early non-stereotypical texts, it is so far largely incomprehensible.

48

Bendt Alster

The encounter of the Sumerian writing system with a Semitic language was mutually influential: the different structure of the Semitic languages favored syllabic writings, a new feature in Sumerian texts, at least on a large scale. This encounter may have led to a development which enabled cuneiform writing to become versatile enough to be used for the recording of Sumerian literary texts. The Sumerian language was further heavily influenced by contact with the Semitic languages through Akkadian (a common designation of the Babylonian and Assyrian dialects widely spoken in Mesopotamia from the middle of the 3rd millennium, B. C. E. on). The symbiosis of the two languages, Sumerian and Akkadian, became decisive for the development of literacy in the following centuries. Although Sumerian as a daily spoken language must have yielded to Akkadian already towards the end of the 3rd millennium B. C. E., knowledge and command of Sumerian continued to exist throughout the following two millennia as a language of prestige, 2 the knowledge of which was a sign of the highest scribal competence.

The Institutional Environment of the Scribes: Temples and Palaces From the very beginning, it is reasonable to think of the Sumerian temples as the institutions that may have fostered scribal education, and, not unexpectedly, hymns to deities and temples as well as other text types related to cult, mythology, and incantations. These texts and their functions, became part of the scribal repertoire and areas of expertise, beginning with the middle of the 3rd millennium B. C. E. With the increasing influence of the political system of royal dynasties, beginning with the early 3rd millennium B. C. E., writing was used for an increasing number of purposes. The initial and primary scribal roles included administrative bookkeeping regarding income and expenditures, also involving archival purposes. With the Stele of the Vultures of Eannatum of Lagash (ca. 2480 B. C. E.), the first example of major inscriptions on stone monuments appeared. Royal hymns and other texts promulgating divine sanction of ruling dynasties became the most frequently copied texts in the scribal curriculum of the Old Babylonian period. Royal archives from as early as the middle of the 3rd millennium B. C. E. have been discovered in Ebla, and archives existed at the royal court of Mari (ca. 1800 B. C. E.) and presumably at a number of others.3 The greater part of 2  The expression, “Lingua di prestigio” was coined by S. Seminara: La versione accadica del Lugal-e, MVS 8, Rom 2001, 524. 3  For a complete overview of Mesopotamian archives, see O. Pedersén: Ancient Near Eastern Archives 1500–300 B. C., Bethesda 1999; J. Black/W. Tait: Archives and Libraries



Scribes and Wisdom in Ancient Mesopotamia

49

the Sumerian literature retrieved today is not known from such archives, however, but directly from cuneiform tablets that have been found where they were formed in or near the Sumerian scribal schools, primarily at Nippur, which flourished in the Isin-Larsa or early Old-Babylonian period ca. 2000–1700 B. C. E.4 The library of King Assurbanipal (668–627 B. C. E.) in Nineveh comprised copies of standard works of centuries of earlier literary tradition, even some Sumerian texts.5

The Scribal Curriculum The temples and the palaces played a decisive role in the development of the curriculum, but the scribal schools were rarely exclusively bound to either of them. On the contrary, the scribes seem to have held a kind of independent position in most periods, which of course was possible because scribal art lent a high degree of professional prestige to the educated scribes. The earlier concept of “temple schools” in the Fara period is somewhat obsolete. It is beyond doubt, however, that the influence of King Shulgi of the third dynasty of Ur (2095–2047 B. C. E.) on Sumerian literature and scribal education was enormous. His competence in literary writing and sapiential knowledge was praised in royal hymns, which became models for later royal hymns. Few literary tablets are known from his time, however, but a number of compositions were copied later and incorporated in the standard repertoire of the Old Babylonian scribal school, the edubba.6 Much of the known Sumerian literary repertoire, however, was not older than the Isin-Larsa or early Old Babylonian period, which was exceptionally creative from a literary point of view (see below).7 in the Ancient Near East, CANE IV (1995), 2197–2209. Whether there were physical scribal schools is a much debated question, but the answer is likely to be in the affirmative. Cf. Å. Sjöberg: The Old Babylonian Edubba, in Sumerological Studies in Honor of Thorkild Jacobsen on His Seventieth Birthday, AS 20, Chicago 1975, 176; K. Volk: Edubba’a und Edubba’aLiteratur, ZA 90 (2000), 1–39; E. Robson: The Tablet House: A Scribal School in Old Babylonian, RA 95 (2001), 39–66. However, a significant amount of education may have taken place in the open on public streets, leaving no or few traces in the archaeological records. 4  Cf. n.  9 below. I use the traditional period designation Old Babylonian, but strictly speaking would prefer the more precise term Isin-Larsa period ca. 2004–1792, before Babylon with the dynasty of Hammurabi became a major royal city. 5  Cf., e. g., W. Hallo: Nippur Originals, in: H. Behrens, et al. (ed.), DUMU-E DUB-BA-A (FS Å. Sjöberg), Philadelphia 1989, 237–247. 6  Edubba means literally “the house where tablets are assigned.” The edubba-spirit was first defined by J. van Dijk (La sages suméro-accadienne: Recherches sur des genres littéraires des texts sapientiaux avec choix de texts, Leiden, 1953) as one of true humanism. 7  For a concise overview of Mesopotamian scribal art, see N. Postgate: Early Mesopotamia, London 1993, 51–70. M. Van de Mieroop (The Ancient Mesopotamian City, Oxford

50

Bendt Alster

Who were the Students? It is not certain how the scribes were chosen for their education,8 but it is clear that a son was expected to follow his father in his scribal profession. It is most likely, therefore, that originally the scribes mostly were recruited from within a closed group already somehow connected with administrative duties. Conditions certainly were quite different in the Old Babylonian period, in which cuneiform tablets, including scribal exercise tablets, are found in numerous private houses. It is reasonable, therefore, to conclude that a much larger group then had access to the schools, not only temple officials and royal administrators, but also children of tradesmen, artisans and perhaps land owning farmers, although scribal art basically remained an urban phenomenon.

Organization of Scribal Education The education at the scribal schools was organized in great detail. Much of the curriculum may be reconstructed. This included lexical lists (dictionaries), geometrics, land measuring, model contracts, model letters, legal terminology, copying literary extracts, historical documents and law codes, and musical instruments and their performance. We even find preserved some “examination texts,” reflecting a high level of education.9 Only a relatively small percentage of pupils progressed through all the levels of education, which must have required several years of study. A frequently asked question concerns how the schools and the teachers were paid. There certainly were no “public schools,” but one may surmise

1997, 119–128) gives an informative summary of the problems, with a short bibliography. For a comprehensive overview see L. Pearce: The Scribes and Scholars of Ancient Mesopotamia,” CANE IV (1995), 2265–2278 (the motto cited on p. 1165, “The scribal art is the mother of speakers, the father of scholars,” is preserved only as a Sumerian proverb in a Neo-Assyrian source, BWL 259: Sm 61:19). 8  Å. Sjöberg: Der Vater und sein mißratener Sohn, 25 JCS (1973), 105–169, l. 116. This text is the first that expresses the view that the son of an educated man had the privilege of being exempt from hard physical work (ll. 7–82). A number of recent studies in fact indicate that scribal education in the Old Babylonian period was basically a private affair taking place in private houses, where a father, who was himself a scribe, taught his own son. Cf. Robson: The Tablet House, and A. George: In Search of the É.DUB.BA.A: The Ancient Mesopotamian School in Literature and Reality, in: Y. Sefati, et al. (ed.), An Experienced Scribe Who Neglects Nothing. Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Honor of Jacob Klein, Bethesda 2005, 127–137. 9  These are attested only from the late periods, however. Cf. esp. Å. Sjöberg: Der Examenstext A, ZA 64 (1975), 131–167.



Scribes and Wisdom in Ancient Mesopotamia

51

that somehow the relations between the pupils and their teachers were more like a private apprenticeship.10 Another frequently asked question is whether or not there were female pupils in the schools. The edubba compositions mentioned below, describing the daily life of schoolboys in great detail, certainly give the impression of a typical man’s world, but there were in fact female scribes in Mesopotamian society. These were represented by the deities Nisaba, the goddess of scribal art, and Geshtinanna, later scribe of the netherworld. There were a few outstanding examples of female authors: Enheduanna, daughter of Sargon of Akkad (ca. 2300 B. C. E.), to whom a number of hymns are often ascribed (only one of which seems justified), and Ninshatapada, daughter of Sin-kashid of Uruk, who wrote a letter to King Rim-sim of Larsa that was later copied in the scribal schools. Female scribes are rather rarely mentioned in documents from the Ur-3 period, but are well attested in the Old Babylonian period at Sippar and Mari.11

Scribes as an Independent Group (Sometimes Critical towards the Palace) That scribal education not always was totally dependent on royal authorities occasionally comes to light in some texts expressing a critical view towards the palace. An example is a frequently repeated Sumerian proverb and its parallel: “There are many ignoramuses in the palace” (cf. “The swift one took flight; the strong one escaped, but the one who could use his mouth [i. e., eloquent speech or flattery?] entered the palace”).12 10  The possibility also has to be taken into account that someone who could afford it paid a scribe for taking a son as an apprentice. This is clear in view of the unique musician’s apprentice contract published by M. Geller: A Musician’s Apprentice Contract, in: G. Selz (ed.) Festschrift für B. Kienast, AOAT 274, Münster 2003, 209–211, now acquired by the Schøyen collection in Oslo (MS 2951). To the best of my knowledge no similar scribal apprentice contract has been found. 11  Cf. Sjöberg: The Old Babylonian Edubba, 177, n. 66; K. Volk: Methoden altmesopotamischer Erziehung, Saculum 47 (1996) 188, n. 60; and L. Pearce: The Scribes and Scholars of Ancient Mesopotamia, CANE IV (1995), 2266. 12  B. Alster: Sumerian Proverb Collection, 9 Sec. A 9 and parallels (= SP); cf. also SP 18.8 (Sumerian Proverb Collection), cited in Alster: Proverbs of Ancient Sumer, 1997. Also see SP 6.4. In addition, see “Instructions of Shuruppak,” 104; 110, etc. (B. Alster: Wisdom of Ancient Sumer, Bethesda 2005, 33, n. 14). The “Gudam-tale” as well as “Ninurta and the Turtle” can be seen as parodies of royal martial ambitions (cf. ibid, n. 33). A later example of a critical view of royal ideology appears in the so-called “Kutha Legend”: W. von Soden: Die Unterweltsvision eines assyrischen Kronprinzes, ZA 44 (1936), 1–31 (cf. now also A. Livingstone: Court Poetry and Literary Miscellanea, State Archives of Assyria, Helsinki 1989, 6–76); B. Foster: Before the Muses. An Anthology of Akkadian Literature 2, Bethesda 1993, 730–737), interprets a unique text as reflecting the intrigues that led to the murder of King Sennacherib

52

Bendt Alster

The Employment of the Scribes Scribal education did not solely aim at preparing scribes for the administration of the palaces or the temples, but many scribes undoubtedly made a living working for private employers. Conditions varied much, however, in the various periods of Mesopotamian history. The administration of the palace reached a maximum under King Shulgi and his followers, with little room for private enterprises, whereas these reached a maximum during the Old Babylonian period, 1792–1595 B. C. E. In this period for the first time in the history of the scribal craft, scribes became sufficiently and easily accessible for a large number of “common” people, who required them to compose private correspondence, including business letters. In the 1st millennium B. C. E. scribal art again became restricted to a special class of highly educated scribes. Cuneiform writing again became more complicated to use, while the daily spoken language shifted from Babylonian to Aramaic.

What is Wisdom Literature? “Wisdom” literature is often seen as a hallmark of literacy, but it must be kept in mind that of the tens – or even hundreds – of thousands of tablets that have been uncovered it is only a small percentage that deserves the designation “wisdom literature.” It should of course not immediately be taken for granted that “wisdom” texts, however these are defined, necessarily were composed by scribes. Sages or illiterate wise men may have played a significant role in the formation of “wisdom” literature in some periods, but whatever we can say about them is by necessity channeled through the eyes of the scribes, and Mesopotamian culture in all historical periods basically became connected with writing (Schriftkultur).

(704–681 B. C. E.). Since the author was a highly regarded scribe at the Assyrian court, who, together with his son, fell into disgrace under King Assurbanipal, the possibility is obvious that Assurbanipal may have felt that the accusation was directed towards him, and that this may have been the reason for the composer’s dismissal. However, he was later reinstalled into his former duty together with his son. These events have been considered the kernel of the story framing the Aramaic Words of Ahiqar. This is not the end of the story, however, because already in Sumerian sources a scribe who fell into disgrace and then was pardoned was a literary motif. See the “Nungal Hymn” as interpreted by M. Civil: On Mesopotamian Jails and their Lady Warden, in M. Cohen, et al. (eds.), The Table and the Scroll. Near Eastern Studies in Honor of William W. Hallo, Bethesda 1993, 72–78; and the comments in Alster: Wisdom of Ancient Sumer, 43, n. 53. Cf. also the very difficult passage, BWL 239–250, ii 5–63, with the comments by E. Reiner: The Etiological Myth of the Seven Sages, Orientalia 30 (1961), 8–9, which I understand as a hint at the Ahiqar story.



Scribes and Wisdom in Ancient Mesopotamia

53

Already in the introduction to his standard edition of Babylonian wisdom literature, W. G. Lambert drew attention to the fact that, strictly speaking, wisdom is a “misnomer as applied to Babylonian literature.”13 He includes the following major groups in his corpus: 1) “The Poem of the righteous Sufferer” (Ludlul bēl nēmeqi), 2)  “The Babylonian theodicy,” 3) precepts and admonitions, 4) preceptive hymns, 5) The Dialogue of Pessimism, 6) fables or contest literature, 7) popular sayings, and 8) proverbs. In the Wisdom of Ancient Sumer, I also discuss the genre problem, and draw the conclusion that only the father-and-son didactic compositions and related didactic texts (2) should be classified as “wisdom” texts in the narrow sense.14 Yet, I also include some other text types relating to 3) the vanity theme and the theme of carpe diem,15 4) some fables16 and a few “morality tales,” 5) a small number of folktales,17 as well as 6) some extracts from proverb collections18 that serve as examples of scribal wit. Some additional considerations precluded the full integration of other text types, in particular the contest literature (that is, literary debates, dialogues and disputations), as well as the so-called edubba literature, which describes the activities in the Sumerian scribal schools of the early Old Babylonian period, ca. 1900–1700 B. C. E.19 Lambert, BWL, 1. Alster’s group 2 roughly correspond to Lambert’s group 3. 15  This corresponds to Lambert’s additional categories from 1995, cf. n. 20 below. 16  Some of Lambert’s group 6, Fables, may better be classified among the contest literature. Alster’s group Fables is not necessarily identical with what Lambert called fables, cf. n. 31 below. 17  Lambert did not include any folktales. The only major example in Akkadian, “The Poor Man of Nippur,” was not known by 1960. In other linguistic areas folktales are not normally considered “wisdom” literature, but there are specific reasons to do so with regard to those including the “king’s judgment” in the Ancient Near East; cf. E. Lipiñski: The Kings Arbitration in Ancient Near Eastern Folk-Tale, in: K. Hecker/W. Sommerfeld (eds.), Keilschriftliche Literaturen, Berliner Beiträge zum Vorderen Orient 8, Berlin 1985, and the discussion of the two Sumerian examples below. 18  Cf. Lambert’s group 8. The majority of the Sumerian proverb collections were published by Alster, The Wisdom of Sumer, 1997, who discusses the arguments pro et contra for their inclusion among “wisdom” literature, mostly contra, since many proverbs do not aim at expressing systematic truth, and often conflict with the moral purposes intended by the ancient collectors. Cf. the discussion of the Early-Dynastic proverb collection below. 19  For the edubba literature, see the section Edubba Literature below, and among previous treatments in particular Sjöberg: The Old Babylonian Edubba, 1975; Volk: Methoden altmesopotamischer Erziehung, 1996; idem: Edubba’a und Edubba’a-Literatur, 2000; C. Wilcke: Konflikte und ihre Bewältigung in Elternhaus und Schule im Alten Orient,” in: R. Lux (ed.), Schau auf die kleinen … Das Kind in Religion, Kirche und Gesellschaft, Leipzig 2002, 10–31; M. Civil: Sur les ‘livres d’écolier’ à l’époque pale-babylonienne, in: Birot Anniv. Miscellanea Babylonica 1985; and the texts translated by S. Kramer: Schooldays, Philadelphia 1949; and H. Vanstiphout in: W. Hallo (ed.), The Context of Scripture 1, Leiden 1997, 575–593. Other text types, such as riddles, could be added to scribal training literature; cf. those edited by M. Civil: Sumerian Riddles, Aula Orientalis 5 (1987), 17–37. 13  14 

54

Bendt Alster

Lambert considered a preoccupation with “what has been called ‘philosophy’ since Greek times” to be a common characteristic of the texts he included under the heading wisdom literature. However, paying less attention to the “philosophical” or speculative aspects, I instead have emphasized the practical character of the oldest wisdom texts treated by him, reflecting their use as advice originating in daily life situations. I further elaborated on a later study by Lambert from 1995, who, after the publication of his standard work from 1965, had found evidence of wisdom (nmequ) understood as a “philosophy of life” in Babylonian sources, much more like the Biblical concept of wisdom (km). At the same time Lambert added two more text types to Babylonian wisdom literature. 20 As a result, the text types I have treated are subdivided into two groups, one that expresses a traditional existential attitude, 21 such as the fatherand-son didactic compositions, foremost exemplified by the Instructions of Shuruppak, versus one that expresses a critical existential attitude towards traditional values, 22 with the “Ballade of Early Rulers” as the most conspicuous example (cf. below). It is in the latter group that scribal wit in particular comes to light.

Traditional Wisdom: Gnomic Sayings The “Instructions of Shuruppak” belongs to a text type, the father-andson didactic instruction poem, also well attested in the oldest Egyptian literature. The gnomic character of its contents makes it probable that a forerunner may have existed in some form unrecorded in writing prior to its first written version, possibly in the form of sequences of orally 20  W. Lambert discusses the vanity theme, the carpe diem theme, and ubi sunt poems (Some New Babylonian Literature, in: J. Day, et al. [ed.], Wisdom in Ancient Israel: Essays in Honor of J. A. Emerson, Cambridge 1995, 37–42). 21  Alster’s categories 2. 22  Alster’s categories 6. For a full comparison with Lambert’s categories it should be kept in mind, of course, that the bulk of Lambert’s texts, dating from the Kassite period, had a much less anonymous character than the older Sumerian parallels. This applies to the Babylonian “Counsels of Wisdom,” which now appears to be an early prototype of the Aramaic “Words of Ahiqar.” Cf. J. Greenfield: Two Proverbs of Ahiqar, in: T. Abusch, et al. (ed.), Lingering over Words. Studies in Near Eastern Literature in Honor of William L. Moran, HSS 37, Cambridge, Mass 1990, 195; and S. Parpola: Letters from Assyrian Scholars, AOAT 5, Kevelaer 1970–72. The Sumerian earlier counterparts are all anonymous, and did not survive beyond the Neo-Assyrian period. Cf. W. Lambert: Ancestors, Authors, and Canonicity, JCS 12 (1958) 14; and idem: Enmeduranki and Related Matters, JCS 21 (1967), 126–138. A typical example of critical wisdom can also be found in Lambert’s group 5, “The Dialogue of Pessimism,” although a critical, humorous interpretation has not been accepted by all specialists at all times. Lambert now seems to accept it, since he now quotes Teophrast and Thackeray as type parallels (Lambert: Some New Babylonian Literature).



Scribes and Wisdom in Ancient Mesopotamia

55

transmitted instructions, some of which may have been legal proverbs. 23 This is likely in view of the traditional existential situation, a father transmitting his advice to his son when his death is imminent. 24 This lines up well with what is known from other linguistic areas in which the oldest scribal activity tends to draw upon gnomic sayings or similar types of traditional wisdom. The instructions were not designed specifically to educate a ruler’s son to become his successor, but rather were seen much more from the point of view of good social behavior, especially among land-owning farmers. The existence of a so-called Early Dynastic collection of proverbs, 25 however, throws light on the fact that the inclusion of proverbs or proverbial phrases under wisdom literature can be a very problematic matter, since by no means do these always aim at expressing general truths or instructing moral values. New sources from later copies of the Old Babylonian period, treated by Miguel Civil, 26 and Jacob Klein, 27 indicate that this is really a collection of female insults. In this case the proverbs or proverbial phrases were not collected or cited with the intent of expressing “wisdom,” but rather they were simply examples of apt rhetorical phrases useful in specific traditional situations, mostly entertaining dialogues, in which indecent accusations may have provoked great laughter among an audience. Since the collection opens with a quotation from a female dialogue, it indirectly 23  See the examples treated by Alster: Wisdom of Ancient Sumer, 239–240. Obvious parallels in Greek literature are the poems of Solon, and in Anglo-Saxon literature the Proverbs of Alfred. It comes as a great surprise that in the recent edition of the Early Dynastic version from Abu Salabikh (Alster: Wisdom of Ancient Sumer, 176–194), the tablet in question, which is one of the oldest literary sources that can be interpreted with at least some success, appears to be a mediocre student’s copy in which errors occur. Since some of these can be “corrected” from what can be retrieved from the later versions, the copy must have been made from a much better “model” now lost. However, there is no reason to believe that the oldest written version was much older than the known tablet from Abu Salabikh. 24  Remarkably, unlike some Egyptian and other related examples, the “Instructions of Shuruppak” does not explicitly state that the counsels were transmitted on the occasion of the father’s death. A fragment from Emar, however, shows that a text connected with a father’s death was copied in Syro-Mesopotamian literature, which in fact is likely to rest on genuine Babylonian sources now lost. Cf. n. 60 below. The text was edited by J. Klein: The “Bane” of Humanity: A Lifespan of One Hundred Twenty Years, ASJ 12 (1990), 57–70, and T. Kämmerer: Šimâ Milka. Induktion und Reception der mitttelbabylonischen Dichtung von Ugarit, Emār and Tell el-‘Amarna, AOAT 251, Münster 1998, 224. A typical quotation is “when I go to the dead, I shall walk forward on the road (of those living).” 25  B. Alster: Early Dynastic Proverbs and other Contributions to the Study of Literary Texts from Abu Salabikh,” AfO 38–39 (199–92) 1–51. 26  M. Civil, Misogynic Themes in Sumerian Literature, paper read at the 47th RAI, Helsinki, 2001 (forthcoming). 27  J. Klein: An Old Babylonian Edition of an Early Dynastic Collection of Insults (BT 9), in: W. Sallaberger, et al. (eds.), Literatur, Politik und Recht im alten Mesoptamien (FS C. Wilcke) Wiesbaden 2003, 135–149.

56

Bendt Alster

testifies to the existence of orally performed disputations between two women as a literary type as early as the Fara period. 28

Critical Wisdom Examples of critical wisdom in Alster’s selection include the “Ballade of Early Rulers,”29 a short poem entitled “Nothing is precious, but life should be sweet tasting,”30 fables,31 some folktales,32 a few morality tales, and at least one humorous tale that had no moral implication whatsoever.33 On a larger scale, it would be a mistake to search for recordings of “folklore,” such as folktales and fables, in any initial meaning of the terms, in this group. The point rather is that when such text types appear, they were used by the scribes, in particular of the early Old Babylonian period, in sophisticated re-interpretations as the basis for new texts, some of which undoubtedly were innovative.34 28  Cf. B. Alster: Sumerian Literary Dialogues and Debates and their Place in Ancient Near Eastern Literature, in: E. Kech, et al. (eds.), Living Waters – Scandinavian Orientalistic Studies presented to F. Løkkegaard, Copenhagen 1990, 1–16; and idem: Early Dynastic Proverbs and other Contributions to the Study of Literary Texts from Abu Salabikh, 1991–2092. 29  Edited in Alster: Wisdom of Ancient Sumer, ch. 3.3. 30  Known in at least four versions. Edited in Alster, Wisdom of Ancient Sumer, 266–287. Version D is unique in raising religious doubts: What is the use of smoke offerings, since not even smoke, the most elusive of all substances, can reach the gods in the sky? 31  Including the earliest examples of the “Aesopian” type of fable, Alster: Wisdom of Ancient Sumer, 362–367. 32  Alster: Wisdom of Ancient Sumer, 373–390, includes only two examples, the “Three Ox-Drivers of Adab,” and the “Old Man and the Young Girl,” cf. the discussion below. 33  “The Fowler and his Wife,” last treated by B. Alster: Two Sumerian Short Tales Reconsidered,” ZA 82 (1992) 186–201; and idem: Wisdom of Ancient Sumer, 371–372. The text centers on sexual metaphors describing the fowler’s potency problems. The only short tale that has an explicit morale is “The Adulterer,” cf. Alster: Wisdom of Ancient Sumer, 368–369, previously B. Alster: Proverbs of Ancient Sumer I, Bethesda 1997, 27–272, SP 23.8, now complete after the discovery of a duplicate in the Schøyen Collection (MS 2168/3). 34  Conspicuous examples, not necessarily associated with wisdom literature, are “Inanna’s Descent,” reworking episodes of the Dumuzi literature, incorporating them in a myth of Inanna as the disappearing and reappearing Venus star; the “Gudam tale,” reworking an episode of the Sumerian Gilgamesh cycle (cf. B. Alster: Gudam and the Bull of Heaven, in: J. Dercksen [ed.], Assyria and Beyond. Studies Presented to Mogens Trolle Larsen, Leiden 2004, 21–45); “Ninurta and the Turtle” (parodizing the Anzu-Ninurta mythology, cf. B. Alster: Ninurta and the Turtle: On Parodia Saca in Sumerian Literature,” in: Nick Veldhuis/ Piotr Michalowski (eds.), Approaches to Summerian Literature: Studies in honor of H. L. T. Vanstiphout, Cuneiform Monographs 35, Leiden 2006, 13–36, and the “fable” of “Enlil and Namzitarra” (Civil, Sur les ‘livres d’écolier’ à l’époque pale-babylonienne, 1985, cf. Alster: Wisdom of Ancient Sumer, 327–338, alluding to divine sucession myths, cf. the discussion below), and, foremost the “Ballade of Early Rulers,” discussed below; Sjöberg: Der Vater und sein missratener Sohn, 105–169, apparently parodying “Schooldays,” cf. Wilcke: Konflikte und ihre Bewältigung, 19.



Scribes and Wisdom in Ancient Mesopotamia

57

The most outstanding example of critical wisdom is the “Ballade of Early Rulers.”35 This is known both in a unilingual Sumerian version from the Old Babylonian period, and a bilingual Sumero-Akkadian one from Ugarit and Emar in the Syro-Mesopotamian area, dating from around the 14th–13th centuries B. C. E. After some introductory lines, describing the brief life span of all human beings, the text lists a number of bygone ancient rulers and heroes from the Sumerian King List, the point being that these are all gone by now, so is the situation not hopeless for all later generations, since a single day of joy is followed by 36,000 dull years of silence? The Syro-Mesopotamian version spells out the answer straight away, advising one to enjoy happiness with drinking, however short life may be. The Sumerian version is less explicit, quoting from the text mentioned above, “Nothing is precious, but life should be sweet tasting:” happiness is found for the giver of the good food of the gods, which seems to be an allusion to a kind of ambrosia and nectar. In other words, this may be a song intended for a joyous symposium in which the students of the scribal schools enjoyed excelling in literary allusions at a good meal.36 Both versions allude to the Ziusudra-Utnapishtim mythology, according to which only this pious sage, a Mesopotamian archetype of the Biblical Noah, achieved the eternal life that Gilgamesh sought in vain. The carpe diem theme, otherwise thought first to be expressed in the Siduri episode of the Old Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic, appears here unambiguously. This short poem exemplifies the humorous wisdom of the Sumerian scribal schools, quoting freely from a number of older compositions, including versions of Gilgamesh stories, but combining them to the highest wisdom in a form almost reminding one of a drinking song. Whatever pessimism is expressed here is to be taken with a grain of salt. 35  Although it has been assumed that the “western” Syro-Mesopotamian version differed considerably from the “eastern” Sumerian one, the two versions are basically the same text, mainly with only some re-arrangements that weaken the structure rather than clarify it. Disregarding the Sumerian version, Dietrich took the Ugaritic version as primary (‘Ein Leben ohne Freude.’ Studie über eine Weisheitskomposition aus dem Gelehrtenbibliotheken von Emar und Ugarit, UF 24 [1992], 9–29). The Emar version, however, appears sometimes to be closer to the Sumerian sources, and thus to what may have been a Middle Babylonian version now lost. J. Klein (‘The Ballade About Early Rulers’ in Eastern and Western Tradition, in: K. van Lerberghe/G. Voet (eds.), Languages and Cultures in Context, OLA 96, Leuven 1999, 203–216) followed Dietrich, but kept the possibility open that the two versions end in a similar tone, which has now proven right, since the missing end of the Sumerian version can now be reconstructed from “Nothing,” a version of which is inscribed on the same tablet, cf. Alster: Wisdom in Ancient Sumer, 296. C. Wilcke (Die Sumerische Königsliste und erzählte Vergangenheit. in: J. von Ungern-Sternberg/H. Reinau, Vergangenheit in mündlicher Überlieferung, Colloquium Rauricum Band 1, Stuttgart 1998, 113–140) names the composition the Sumerian “Gaudeamus igitur,” to which I basically consent, although it has caused a good deal of skepticism, cf. the discussion in Alster: Wisdom of Ancient Sumer, 296–297. 36  “Nothing” Version C ll. 7–8.

58

Bendt Alster

The Ballade in Later Neo-Assyrian Literature? Proverbs from Ugarit: Humorous Pessimism and Ethical Proverbs or What? The “Ballade” has not been found to this point in copies later than the Ugarit-Emar exemplars, but it has come as a great surprise that its opening lines are repeated as a kind of refrain in a tiny bilingual fragment from the library of Assurbanipal.37 Each refrain is followed by a few lines of proverbial contents. This reminds one of a similar fragment from Ugarit, inscribed with a sequence of proverbs, one of which at least can be shown to go back to a Sumerian forerunner. 38 This follows as the continuation of the “Ballade” in one of the Ugaritic sources. There is a chance, therefore that these fragments are remains of a wisdom collection of sententious sayings, some of which at least existed already in Sumerian sources, and of which the “Ballade” formed part. This is a translation of the Neo-Assyrian fragment, partly restored from the bilingual Sumero-Akkadian version from Ugarit and Emar of the Ballade, where these overlap: 0. [With Enzi the plans are drawn.] 1. According to the decisions of the gods [lots are allotted.] 2. Since [time immemorial] there has been *wind (?)!39 3. A hired worker counts the inheritance of a wealthy man. 4. A female weaver leaves a hired worker.40 5. Whatever the heart (’s desires([?]) are on earth, they are no good, [they evaporate(?)] in *“wind(?).”41 6. The task of a scholar’s pupil does not yield a joyous heart. 7. (Even) that man [goes] to the grave (?) […].42 8. With Enki the plans are [drawn]. 9. According to the decisions of the gods [lots are allotted.] 10. Since [time immemorial] there has been *wind (?)! 37  Identified by R. Borger in the British Museum and published for the first time in Alster: Wisdom of Ancient Sumer, 320–322. 38  See Alster: Wisdom of Ancient Sumer, 323–326: Proverbs from Ugarit, and previously Dietrich: Ein Leben ohne Freude, 1992. The interpretation offered here is an alternative to Dietrich’s. 39  “Wind” (Sum. im/tumu, Akkad. shâru) is clearly preserved in the Emar version where it anticipates the Biblical hebel, the word used by Qoheleth for “vanity.” 40  The saying about the female worker may be understood as exemplifying impossible social ambitions. Placed on the lower end of the social scale, she apparently was not satisfied with a hired worker, but wanted to marry someone on a higher social level. 41  The NAss version seems to be corrupt here, but the meaning proposed is likely in view of similar expressions found in other Sumerian texts, e. g., “Nothing” B 6, “that plan evaporated in wind.” 42  Instead of “scholar’s pupil” one could also translate “a craftsman’s pupil,” since ummânu can mean both. The word for grave, if correctly interpreted, means, lit., “the land of tears” (kur-ir-ra), albeit with “tears” in an unusual phonetic writing.



Scribes and Wisdom in Ancient Mesopotamia

59

It is clear from this small fragment that not even a scribe can be sure to enjoy the benefits of a privileged profession, but, in view of the larger context described above, the pessimism obviously may have to be taken cum grano salis.43 This is a translation of the bilingual Sumero-Akkadian fragment from Ugarit: 2–25 People do not by themselves know their doings. 2–27 The plans for day and night rest with the god. 2–29 Nobody should make people’s working assignment known. 3–31 Nobody should pronounce an insult against other people. 3–33 Nobody should accept a deprecation of someone weak. 3–35 A son of a lame man catches up with the son of a runner. 3–37 A son of a wealthy man stretches his hand out towards the son of a poor man. 3–39 This is the lot of a healthy man.44

In contrast to what appears on the surface, this is not a sequence teaching social understanding. The point, rather, is that nobody can know what happens to him tomorrow. As such it lines up well with traditional Babylonian thinking, according to which disasters may be caused by the gods for reasons incomprehensible to humankind, or because one unknowingly has committed a sin, regardless of the piety practiced.

Enlil and Namzitarra: Mythology used to exemplify Scribal Wit This is a short fable in which an official at Enlil’s temple proves to be able to recognize the god Enlil disguised as a raven. The way he did this is remarkable, because, in spite of the otherwise realistic setting, upon Enlil’s questioning him, Namzitarra’s answer takes us right back to time immemorial when the gods struggled for power. At that time Enlil had uttered a sentence in which Namzitarra could recognize a word play punning on the word for raven.45 Enlil, in recognition of Namzitarra’s cunning, offered the best possible recompense to Namzitarra. 43  This example illustrates very clearly the difficulties involved in dealing with Mesopotamian literary history: it is often very difficult to date texts. In this case, the source may be a thousand years old, and may not reveal directly how scribes thought in the Neo-Assyrian courts. From contemporary correspondence it is known, however, that although the scribes thought highly of their profession, they did not always feel they were appreciated accordingly, which actually is the situation of our saying. Cf. Parpola’s edition of the correspondence of the Neo-Assyrian scholars in his Letters from Assyrian Scholars, 1970–72, and n. 12 above. 44  I translate a “healthy” man (lú-silim-ma = shal-mi). Dietrich: Ein Leben ohne Freude: das Los eines sich tadellos Verhalten. 45  M. Civil: Enlil and Namzitarra, AfO 25 (1974/75), 65–71. Slightly different from Civil, I take the utterance to be spoken by Enlil himself, see Alster: Wisdom of Ancient Sumer, 329,

60

Bendt Alster

What mythology tells about divine succession myths plays a minor role here, where just the possibility of punning on Enlil’s disguise is in focus. In this sense the tale is characteristic of scribal tradition, which favored such puns. At the same time this short story concisely exemplifies two other themes, first, that a name reveals something about a person’s future (nomen sit omen). Second, as in the Genesis tradition, the moral quality of the action that led to someone’s obtaining a blessing is not an issue. In this case it was not fraud, but rather simply scribal wit that secured a divine blessing for Namzitarra. Also in line with good wisdom tradition, Namzitarra was not satisfied with material wealth, but asked for something of lasting value instead, an office in Enlil’s temple for all his successors.46

“Folktales” Exemplifying Scribal Wit Other characteristic examples of scribal wit are the Sumerian so-called folktales, the Three Ox-Drivers from Adab, and the Old Man and the Young Girl.47 In neither of these is the story to be taken at face value, as one reflective of reality. Rather than to record a folktale as such, the intent seems to be to present a traditional scene, the king’s judgment, in a burlesque setting that gives the scribes a chance to quote examples of sententious sayings characteristic of scribal wit.48 This is done in a way that mocks actual legal proceedings, and the problems presented are hardly to be taken too seriously as truly worthy of the king’s attention.49 It is remarkable, furthermore, that the king himself does not offer a solution, but instead seeks the advice of a wise “cloistered woman,” whose words he then repeats. One may, of course, take this to be reminiscent of the and the literature there cited. Not only the reality of the animal speaking, but also the sense of time reality have been suspended here. 46  Namzitarra means literally “the one blessed with a favorable destiny.” The Emar version of “Enlil and Namzitarra” elaborates further on the theme of lasting values, but unfortunately it is too fragmentary to tell whether the larger context differed from the Sumerian version, which indeed seems to have been the case. 47  Edited in Alster: Wisdom in Ancient Sumer, 373–390. Cf. Lipiñski: The King’s Arbitration in Ancient Near Eastern Folk-Tale. 48  The sentences in which the old man’s problems associated with aging are described and frequently quoted in proverb collections where undoubtedly they were accompanied with oral comments. One example is the “black mountain that has produced white gypsum,” thus standing for the old man’s hair becoming white. 49  In the one case a calf is engendered and born with an unrealistically short lifespan, and the three men engage in a dispute as to who should own it. In the other case, the solution to the problem, to give a young girl in marriage to please the man getting older, does not require any exceptional degree of ingenuity.



Scribes and Wisdom in Ancient Mesopotamia

61

existence of (female?) advisors to the king,50 but the whole setting is so artificial that no definite conclusions should be drawn.

Debate Techniques There were two types of disputation:51 1) those in which the antagonists are personified natural phenomena, like Summer and Winter, Grain and Mother Sheep, etc., and on the other hand, 2) those in which they are actual persons. This latter group has two subgroups, one not exclusively connected with the schools, like the dialogues between two women mentioned earlier, and one in which the antagonists are “academics” of the schools. Since the former demonstrably can be shown to have existed very early,52 the likelihood is that the school dialogues were coined in the schools using an older, well known literary genre for a model. Yet, this has consequences for the understanding of many of the texts known to us on a wider scale. We are used to taking the arguments very seriously, so that, say, when Winter in the end prevails over Summer, this is indicative of a serious choice between two possibilities, revealing something about a mythological understanding of the world. Herman L. J. Vanstiphout has demonstrated,53 however, that the argumentations are to be taken as no more than simply the pleasure of enjoying how sophisticated arguments may be twisted, even ad absurdum.54 This further means that there is no simple answer as to how mythology was understood in the scribal schools.55 The disputations were simply incorporated in the scribal curriculum as examples of training in sophisticated argumentation.

50  Similar to “the King’s Friend,” cf. 2 Sam 15:37, 1 Kgs 4:5, etc. In later periods, not least of all at the court of the Neo-Assyrian king Assarhaddon, however, it is well known that divination experts and astrologers assisted the kings in critical decisions regarding warfare, etc. A rare case from Mari reveals how a delicate scribal error could be handled, cf. J. Sasson: The Burden of Scribes, in: T. Abusch, et al. (eds.), Riches Hidden in Secret Places. Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Memory of Thorkild Jacobsen, Winona Lake, IN 2002, 211–228. 51  Cf. Alster: Sumerian Literary Dialogues and Debates. 52  Cf. note 28 above. 53  H. Vanstiphout: On the Sumerian Disputation between the Hoe and the Plough, Aula Orientalis 2 (1984), 239–251. Also see a number of later publications by H. Vanstiphout. 54  “Lahar and Ashnan” contains some illustrative examples, cf. B. Alster/H. Vanstiphout: Lahar and Ashnan. Presentation and Anaylsis of a Sumerian Literary Dispute, ASJ 9 (1987), 1–43. 55  The much debated mythological introductions to a number of disputations should be read cum grano salis. That the so–called Mesopotamian myths belong to literature rather than religion was correct. See A. Oppenheim: Ancient Mesopotamia, Chicago 1977, 177.

62

Bendt Alster

The Edubba Literature The short composition “Schooldays” was published by S. N. Kramer in 1949:56 a student successfully persuades his father to bribe his teacher, who was very cruel. The fine irony has been much admired, and is in fact characteristic of the Sumerian school compositions. Wilcke’s suggestion that this is not meant as bribery in any modern sense, but, rather, as a normal attempt to establish good social relations between clients and subjects, must be taken into account.57 Nevertheless, the edubba compositions are full of irony and sarcasm.58 It is clear from the structure of “Schooldays” that the text may have been derived from the school dialogues, since it starts with a traditional interrogation of the son by the father, whereas later, this dialogue form is forgotten. Somewhat similar is “A Father and his Son,”59 in which the dispute between the two appears to be caused by the son’s desire to become a singer rather than a scribe. It is remarkable that in the end the father consents and blesses his son. Another remarkable feature in these texts is that they do not center around scribal skills as such, but on authority, punctuality, obedience, and rank among the students. An older student at times prevails over a younger and skeptical one, who even sometimes can be quite impertinent, and sometimes it is a senior schoolmaster (um-mi-a) who decides between the two, even on occasion in favor of the younger one.60 So somehow the texts must have been composed by academics who had the courage to question such traditional values as the necessity of total obedience and punctuality in the schools. Who were they? Since the pupils on the lower levels do not come into consideration, a fair guess is the schoolmasters, the ummia.61 Kramer: Schooldays. An updated edition unfortunately is not yet available. Wilcke: Konflikte und ihre Bewältigung, 18, referring to “Patronage und Klientbeziehungen” in the 16th century, C. E. 58  Wilcke: Konflikte und ihre Bewältigung, gives a concise and very informative summary of the most important texts, with many sections translated into German. 59  Edited by Sjöberg: Der Vater und sein missratener Sohn. Wilcke’s interpretation differs somewhat; cf. the preceding note. 60  An impertinent answer by a skeptical pupil also occurs in the Syro-Mesopotamian “Counsels for Shupe-amelim” (edited by M. Dietrich: Dialogue zwischen Shupê-ameli und seinem ‘Vater:’ UF 23 [1991], 38–65). Apart from the title this is only known from copies dating from the Syrian area, but, as has been shown by M. Civil: RA 63 (1969), 179, the title is listed in an Old Babylonian literary catalogue and thus is likely to come from there. The situation is not unusual. Some of the Sumerian edubba compositions were even copied in the Hittite capital Hattusha, cf. M. Civil: An Edubba Text from Boghazköy, NABU 2 (1987), 25–27, n. 47. Cf. also n. 24 above. 61  In later scribal tradition, a number of literary works were ascribed to the legendary ummianu, cf. Lambert: Ancestors, Authors and Canonicity. Cf. also n. 22 above. In Sumerian literature the um-mi-a appears in the role of composer in Shulgi Hymn E. 56  57 



Scribes and Wisdom in Ancient Mesopotamia

63

Conclusion Wisdom compositions, at least from the time of the Sumerian edubba, were composed by scribes belonging to an initiate group, writing for students or colleagues who shared a common fund of knowledge of what was then considered “classical” literature.62 This literature had no other primary purpose than to serve as just that. Apart from the training in scribal skills, which could be practiced in many other ways,63 the edubba, or academy, which it may justly be called, produced its own literature, in addition to the transmission of older works, and thus became the first example of the common truth that literature may be worth studying for its own sake.64

62  Cf. N. Veldhuise: Elementary Education at Nippur: The Lists of Trees and Wooden Objects, Ph. D. diss., Groningen 1997, 142–146. 63  Cf. H. Waetzoldt: Der Schreiber als Lehrer in Mesopotamien, in: J. G. Prinz von Hohenzollern and M. Liedtke (eds.), Schreiber, Magister, Lehrer. Zur Geschichte und Funktion eines Berufstandes, Bad Heilbronn 1989; Veldhuise, Elementary Education at Nippur, and Veldhuise: Religion, Literature, and Scholarship, Cuneiform Monographs 22, Leiden 2004. 64  The following study came too late to be taken into account here: J. Ebeling and G. Cunnigham (eds.), Analysing Literary Sumerian: Corpus-based Approaches, Equinox Publishing, 2007. In particular the contribution by E. Robson, Divine literacy, numeracy, and justice in the Sumerian literary corpus, contains much relevant information on scribal education.

Victor Avigdor Hurowitz

Tales of Two Sages – Towards an Image of the “Wise Man” in Akkadian Writings Introduction In The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East from 1990, Ronald Sweet published two articles, one presenting a concise but comprehensive survey of the Akkadian terms for wise man and wisdom, and the other discussing the roles people so designated played in ancient Mesopotamian society as advisors in the royal court.1 Sweet pointed out that the Sage par excellence was considered to be the king, 2 but that the palace and temples also nurtured professionals possessing technical skills and scientific knowledge of various natures who can also be considered wise men or sages.3 Over a decade and a half have elapsed since these articles appeared, and although new material available does not call into question their basic content, there is certainly room for additional inquiry into various aspects of the functioning and position of the sages in the court and society,4 as well 1  R. Sweet: The Sage in Akkadian Literature: A Philological Study, in: J. Gammie/L. Perdue (eds.), The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, Winona Lake, IN 1990, 45–65; idem: The Sage in Mesopotamian Palaces and Courts, in: The Sage in Israel, 99–107. 2  See also L. Kalugila: The Wise King: Studies in Royal Wisdom as Divine Revelation in the Old Testament and Its Environment, CBOTS 15, Lund 1980, 38–61, esp. 47–61. 3  The Oxford English Dictionary defines the noun Sage: “A man of profound wisdom: esp. one of those persons of ancient history or legend who were traditionally famous as the wisest of mankind. In earlier use, sometimes with a weaker sense, a wise man.” The first part of this definition is appropriate only for Akkadian apkallu and the mythological uses of ummnu. This article follows the second part of the definition, using almost interchangeably such words as “sage,” “wise man,” “scholar,” “expert,” and “specialist.” All connote a person who performs a profession or serves in an advisory capacity to a king or someone else by merit of his or her intellectual ability, training and skill in one or more fields of endeavor; in other words, a member of the intelligentsia or an expert in the arts. We will see below that the words uparrtu, which has the basic meaning of “scribal art,” and ummntu, with the basic meanings of “artistry” or “expertise” came in their historical development to designate all these abilities. Sweet: The Sage in Akkadian Literature, 65 has already pointed out that Akkadian wisdom terms were not used with special frequency for a “class of learned and shrewd, including astrologers, magicians, and the like.” In other words, Akkadian has no semantic, functional equivalent for biblical Hebrew ‫חכם‬. 4  Cf. J.-J. Glassner: The Use of Knowledge in Ancient Mesopotamia, in: J. Sasson (ed.), CANE III, New York 1995, 1815–1823, esp. 1815–1816; L. Pearce: The Scribes and Scholars



Towards an Image of the “Wise Man” in Akkadian Writings

65

as their qualifications, training, and personalities. The current study will first examine briefly the mythological and legendary sages, known as apkallus and ummânus, and then focus on several aspects of certain scholars in the service of the king who achieved their status because of their professional knowledge and skill. In particular I shall be interested in examining the training and professional qualifications of such people on the one hand and their personalities on the other. Accessibility of material as well as the prominence of the so-called sages in imperial affairs leads us to concentrate on Mesopotamia of the first millennium B. C. E. and especially the neo-Assyrian period. Legendary “Wise Guys.” A myth appearing as an incantation included in the bt mseri ritual tells that in ancient times seven apkallu-sages in the form of purdu fish were created in the river, and that they guarded the designs of the heavens and earth.5 They were followed by four apkallus of human birth who were endowed by Ea with broad wisdom. A version of this myth from Seleucid Uruk (147 B. C. E.) associates the seven apkallus with seven antediluvian kings, each monarch with his own apkallu. In the Assyrian court, the Sage par excellence was the king himself, as indicated by the praise of the kings’ wisdom in the royal inscriptions and in particular from comparisons of the king with the apkallu, Adapa, also known as Utuabzu (“born in the Abyss”), who was the seventh apkallu and who became the most famous of his breed thanks to a myth about of Ancient Mesopotamia, CANES IV, 2265–2278. For the earliest “Akkadian” scribes of the third millennium B. C. E. see G. Visicato: The Power and the Writing: Early Scribes of Mesopotamia, Bethesda 2000. For scribes at Mari, and especially their routine in composing letters, see J. Sasson: The Burden of Scribes, in: T. Abusch (ed.), Riches Hidden in Secret Places: Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Memory of Thorkild Jacobsen,Winona Lake, IN 2002, 211–228. A new environment for understanding the functioning of the Mesopotamian scribe-scholar-sage, especially in the mid to late first millennium, has been established in the last fifteen years by ongoing scholarly work such as that of Simon Parpola on esoteric knowledge, Francesca Rochberg on astronomy, and on scribal education. Pertinent works of these scholars will be cited below. 5  The best treatment of the apkallu and Adapa legends, examining the traditions in their historical development, is now S. Sanders: Writing, Ritual and Ascent to Heaven in Ancient Mesopotamian and Second Temple Judaism, PhD dissertation, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, 1999. For previous studies, cf. the lexicons s. v.; E. Reiner: The Etiological Myth of the “Seven Sages”, Orientalia 30 (1961), 1–11; R. Borger: Die Beschwörungsserie Bīt Mēseri und die Himmelfahrt Henochs, JNES 33 (1974), 183–186; idem: The Incantation Series Bīt Mēseri and Enoch’s Ascension to Heaven, in: R. S. Hess/D. T. Tsumura (eds.), I Studied Inscriptions from Before the Flood: Ancient Near Eastern, Literary, and Linguistic Approaches to Genesis 11, Winona Lake, IN 1994, 224–233; B. Foster: Wisdom and the Gods in Ancient Mesopotamia, Orientalia 43 (1974), 344–354; S. Parpola: Letters From Assyrian Scribes and Babylonian Scholars, State Archives of Assyria 10, Helsinki: Helsinki University, 1993, xvii–xix; and S. Izre’el: Adapa and the South Wind: Language Has the Power of Life and Death, Mesopotamian Civilizations 10, Winona Lake, IN 2001, esp. 1–4.

66

Victor Avigdor Hurowitz

him.6 In the letters to the kings, the royal advisors would compare the king to Adapa. So Marduk-šumu-usur writes to Assurbanipal (SAA 10 ˙ 174:9): Aššur, in a dream, called the grandfather of the king, my lord, a sage (apkallu); the king, lord of kings, is an offspring of a sage and Adapa: you have surpassed the wisdom of the Abyss and all scholarship (ummnti). In contrast to the myth which pairs up the ancient kings with the first seven apkallus, in the historical Assyrian court, there stood alongside the apkallu-king as royal advisors a number of learned specialists designated ummnu. This functional parallelism is the basis of our study of “wise men” focusing on the ummnus. A significant aspect of these primordial sages is that they were not conceived as fully positive characters, even though they were endowed with understanding and charged with “accomplishing the plans of Heaven and Earth.” Adapa himself, the paragon of sagacity, is overzealous in fulfilling his duties as priest of Ea and breaks the wing of the South Wind; but when faced with an opportunity to achieve immortality, the aspiration of much of humanity, he thinks he can outsmart Ea, does the opposite of what he is instructed, and squanders the chance of the ultimate reward. As for the four ummnus in the late legend, the second, Piriggalnungal of Kish, “angered the god Ishkur/Adad in heaven, so that he allowed neither rain nor growth in the land for three years,” and his successor Piriggalabzu of Adab, “hung his seal on a ‘goat fish’ and thereby angered the god Enki/Ea in the fresh water sea, so that a fuller struck him dead with his own seal.” It seems that these mythical figures suffer arrogance or hubris which ultimately interferes with their performance as maintainers of the world order; and it is quite conceivable that these flaws reflect faults the mythographers perceived in their human counterparts. To be sure, this is not inconsistent with what is revealed about some ummnus in their own letters to be discussed below. The Court Sage (ummânu). The most revealing source of information about the historical ummnus, their functioning and their individual traits, is the corpus of neo-Assyrian royal correspondence, and especially the letters included in Simon Parpola’s two volumes, Letters of Assyrian Scholars, and Letters from Assyrian and Babylonian Scholars (SAA 10). In these revealing documents, the individuals speak in their own voices, telling about themselves and their colleagues, and often demonstrating by putting into practice the abilities for which they were chosen to occupy their positions of honor and influence. The collection consists of around four hundred letters written to kings Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal by specialists of various types including 6 

S. Izre’el: Adapa and the South Wind.



Towards an Image of the “Wise Man” in Akkadian Writings

67

the ipu (exorcist who recites incantations), kal (lamentation singer), uparru (scribe or astronomer), br (diviner, haruspex), and as (physician). They all belong to the category designated ummnu, “expert” or “specialist.”7 This group of letters does not include those from priests and temple officials on the one hand or, on the other hand, from government officials and military officers of the ranks masennu, ngir ekalli, rab aq, rab a ri, sartinnu, sukkallu, and turtnu. These later functionaries, whose responsibilities were not necessarily determined by their education and learning, were discussed by Parpola in an article on what he calls “the Assyrian Cabinet,”8 and by his student Rajieh Matilla in her book, The King’s Magnates9. The letters of the various types of ummnus are mostly professional reports and advice sent to the king as part of their writers’ daily activities as his advisors. Along with them are a significant number of petitions and personal letters pertaining to the correspondents’ private lives, their relationships with the king, and their standing at court. In the following I will examine two letters which can be considered “letters of recommendation,” although of very different types, and through them reveal something of the image of the Assyrian “Wise Man.”10 One letter illuminates such wise men’s professional qualifications and education, while the other offers a glimpse into the private life and personality of the human being behind the person standing before the king. A supplement to the discussion of the first letter will examine several letters and archival documents of other genres, which reveal details about contemporary scribal training. 7  That these particular specialists made up a recognized group in antiquity as well is evidenced by several other contemporary documents. SAA 10 7, a letter from Issar-šumu-ereš, reports that the scribes, diviners, exorcists, physicians, and augurs will enter the treaty (ina libbi ad errub), relating to them as a single group. SAA 7 1 (F. Fales/J. Postgate: Imperial Administrative Records 1, Helsinki 1992) is a list of “experts at court” registering astrologers, exorcists, diviners, physicians, and lamentation singers. In addition there are augurs, Egyptian scholars (aribi) and scribes, who have similar functions. SAA 7 2 is a similar, shorter document listing exorcists and physicians. In contrast to these documents, somewhat longer lists (SAA 7 4–7) which record governors, and other high officials, or officials at court, contain only one reference to a singer of lamentations. In other words, ancient scribes too distinguished “professionals” or “academics” from other civil servants. 8  S. Parpola: The Assyrian Cabinet, in: M. Dietrich/O. Loretz (eds.), Vom Alten Orient zum Alten Testament. FS Wolfram von Soden, AOAT 240, Neukirchen-Vluyn 1995, 379–401. 9  Raijeh Matilla, The King’s Magnates: A Study of the Highest Officials of the NeoAssyrian Empire, SAAS 11, Helsinki 2000. For the priests see S. Cole/P. Machinist: Letters from Priests to the Kings Esarhaddon and Assurbanipal, SAA XIII, Helsinki 1998. 10  A brief recommendation for a scribe is found in SAA 10 116. The particular individual, who is to be the house scribe, is said to be “able” (le). Unfortunately, the reference to “they […] will assign (?) to him with the two styluses of his father” (ina libbi 2 qanupp a abu [x i]mannniu) is obscure, although it may refer to multiple responsibilities or the ability to work fast.

68

Victor Avigdor Hurowitz

A Scholar’s CV. The first letter was sent by Marduk-šāpik-zēri to an unidentified monarch. Its two pieces were published first as separate items (CT 54: 57 and 106), and so edited by Hermann Hunger,11 but Parpola joined them into a single document (SAA 10 160).12 In an obsequious opening, the writer debases himself as a “dead body, leprous skull, constricted of breath, whom the king raised from the dead,” after which he relates that he was caught or imprisoned (abtku) for two years, raising the possibility that the titles in the introduction reflected his days as a prisoner. Throughout his confinement, he reported nothing to the king, good or bad, of what he had observed in the heavens; and now, finally, he feels it necessary to make a report lest he be found guilty of some crime.13 Accordingly, he now reports some half-dozen astral portents which he had observed, along with their interpretations. He concludes with a wish that the king will either put him to death or admit him anew into the royal service reporting astral omens; anything but permitting him to starve to death as a prisoner. In support of his entreaty, he details to the king his professional qualifications in what is tantamount to an academic resumé. He has completely mastered (ugdammir) mourning as had his father; he read and even sang some series (ikaru) (perhaps the reference is to some series of lamentations); he is qualified to perform rituals such as the mouth washing ritual (the rite used for giving life to a newly made divine cult statue) and purification of the palace; and he has examined healthy and diseased flesh. Such qualifications would make him both ritualist and physician. Moreover, he specialized in various forms of divination. He “read” the astronomical series Enma Anu Enlil, and knows how to observe the heavenly constellations. His claim “Enma Anu Enlil … altassi”, “I have read EAE,” may have the connotation of saying in British English, “I read astronomy,” meaning “I have studied and earned a degree in astronomy.” He also “read” umma izbu, which deals with anomalies in aborted animal fetuses, Kataduqq, Alandimmu and Nigidimdimm, which interpret human speech, behavior and physiognomy, and umma lu, which interprets as ominous a vast array of events and circumstances from daily life. 11  H. Hunger: Empfehlungen an den König, in: F. Rochberg-Halton (ed.), Language, Literature, and History. Philological and Historical Studies Presented to Erica Reiner, AOS 6, New Haven 1987, 157–166. 12  The letter is discussed also in F. Rochberg: Scribes and Scholars: The upar Enma Anu Enlil in: J. Marzahn/H. Neuman (eds.), Assyriologica et Semitica: Festschrift für Joachim Oelsner anläßlich seines 65. Geburtstages am 18. Februar 1997, AOAT 252, Münster 2000, 359–375, esp. 361–362. 13  SAA 16 21. See S. Parpola: A Letter from Šamaš-šumu-ukīn to Esarhaddon, Iraq 34 (1972), 21–34. In this letter, three expert diviners are accused of not communicating to the king prognostications concerning him and the crown prince. Marduk-šapik-zēri seems to view his obligation of reporting to the king binding even when out of favor and imprisoned.



Towards an Image of the “Wise Man” in Akkadian Writings

69

From this glowing self-recommendation, he goes on to recommend twenty lesser experts who studied with him (liginnu … ilsi; literally “read tablets”) and returned from Elam. In contrast to the recommender, who was a “Jack of All Trades” or a “Renaissance Man,” the recommended are of more limited abilities. Most had specialized in but a single profession, and, although some were expert in a few disciplines, none controlled more than four.14 They were all “capable specialists desirable to the king” (ummni leti iitti arri). Their professions are listed in the author’s summary as scribes (uparr), singers of laments (kal), exorcists (incantation reciters; iptu), diviners (haruspex; br) and physicians (as), which are the professions in which the writer also specialized and about which he was qualified to testify. Yet in the detailed enumeration of the individuals and their respective skills there is one who has ability in “ancient and Sumerian exegesis” (t pni u umri) and the “secrets of heaven and earth,” and various works from one profession or another. One specialist seems to be able to write a monument. The discipline uparrtu, translated by Parpola as “scribal lore,” sometimes designates basic scribal abilities,15 but more than 14  Even though Assyrian wise men specialized in specific fields, they were not ignorant of or disinterested in other areas. In several inventories of tablets acquired or confiscated from various scribes on behalf of the royal libraries, the tablets requisitioned were not tablets relating to the specialty of the person from whom they were taken. This shows that the scribes used and therefore retained in their possession tablets needed for their professional work, but had kept in their private libraries tablets outside their fields. See S. Parpola: Assyrian Library Records, JNES 42 (1983) 1–29, esp. 8–10. In many of the ummnu letters in SAA 10, a writer formally of one profession gives advice or cites texts from another profession. For the practice and religious necessity of having expertise in several fields, see S. Parpola: Mesopotamian Astrology and Astronomy as Domains of the Mesopotamian “Wisdom”, in: H. Galter (ed.), Die Rolle der Astronomie in den Kulturen Mesopotamiens. Beiträge zum 3. Grazer Morgendländischen Symposium, 23.–27. September 1991, Morgenländische Studien 3, Graz 1993, 47–59. 15  According to Visicato (The Power and the Writing, 233) the earliest scribes (sanga and then dub-sar) were administrators and compilers of administrative documents as well as teachers in the scribal schools. A fuller extent of uparrtu is described in the bi-lingual poem “In Praise of Scribal Art”. It starts: “The Scribal Art is the mother of the eloquent (amagù-dé-ke‑e-ne = ummu laiat), father of the erudite (a-a-um-me-a-ke eš = abi ummni)”, indicating that verbal skills are part of the job description, and that uparrtu is basic to being an ummnu. It ends with a list of activities engaged in by someone who has acquired this art, including: “To write a stela, to measure a field, to balance accounts, …, […]the palace]”. See Å. Sjöberg: “In Praise of the Scribal Art,” JCS 24 (1972) 126–129; V. Hurowitz: Literary Observations on “In Praise of the Scribal Art,” JANES 27 (2000), 49–56; Benjamin Foster: Before the Muses, Bethesda 32005, 1023–1024. That uparrtu involves rhetorical ability is emphasized in SAA 10 30 (discussed below). A. Oppenheim presents a non-technical definition of the scribe: “The role and importance of the uparru might be likened to those of the clergy in medieval Europe; his lore, uparrtu, i. e., that extensive body of knowledge, skills, and savoir-faire covered by the Islamic term adab.” See A Note on the Scribes in Mesopotamia, in: H. Güterbock/T. Jacobsen (eds.), Studies in Honor of Benno Landsberger on His SeventyFifth Birthday April 21, 1965, AS 16, Chicago 1965, 253–256. It seems that the connotations of

70

Victor Avigdor Hurowitz

simple literacy.16 According to Rochberg: “It appears that the profession “scribe” (LÚA.BA = uparru) applied generally to specialists in scholarly divination, both celestial and terrestrial (umma lu and umma izbu), as well as hemerological omens (iqqur pu and inbu bl arim).”17 The verbs describing these scholars’ particular prowess in their professions are l, ugdammir and as, i. e. “able to perform”, “of comprehensive knowledge,” and “reader”. Interestingly, he uses no superlatives and doesn’t even say that any of the men he recommends are particularly “smart.”18 uparrtu changed over time. The word with a primary meaning of inscribing a tablet (DUB. SAR) expanded to connote all the activities which involved writing, but in later periods developed the specialized meaning of divinatory arts, especially astronomy and astrology. 16  Contrary to a popular misconception, basic skills in reading and writing cuneiform were readily acquirable and widespread in the second and first millennia B. C. E., meaning that mere literacy would not have marked a person as particularly wise or skilled. See S. Parpola: The Man Without a Scribe and the Question of Literacy in the Assyrian Empire, in: B. Pongratz-Leisten/H. Kühne/P. Xella, Ana ad Labnni l allik – Beiträge zu altorientalischen und mittelmeerischen Kulturen: FS W. Röllig, Neukirchen-Vluyn 1977, 315–324. 17  See F. Rochberg: Scribes and Scholars, 361. She develops the suggestion of A. Oppenheim: Divination and Celestial Observation in the last Assyrian Empire, Centaurus 14 (1969), 97–135, concluding that the term “scribe” (uparru) had the particular meaning “expert in omen sciences”. 18  As a matter of fact, in the corpus, such a quality is reserved for the king. Letter 174, cited previously, praises the king’s wisdom by saying he is a descendent of an apkallu and Adapa, adding that he surpasses the wisdom of the abyss and all scholarship (tutir nmeqi Aps u gimir ummnti). Another letter (29) states that the king is made like an apkallu. Letter 30 has an extended discussion of the king’s rhetoric and some magic means of making it even wiser, so that it will be like the word of an apkallu. Letter 112 ends: “You are able, wise and circumspect (le assi u putqudu atta). May the king do as he sees best.” Letter 169 ends in a similar fashion: “but the king my lord is an able and well informed leader (arru blu l mass md); let him do as he deems best”. Even so, incompetence in rival scribes is occasionally noted, and in one letter (23) Issar-šumu-ēreš comments on someone’s false report with what seems to be a proverb l md ipri dajjnu uanna :: l md amtu uanzaqa dannu, “One who does not know a craft/message exhausts the judge; one who doesn’t know how to speak worries the mighty.” Words of praise for particular wise men do occur in literary texts outside the corpus of the ummnu letters. In the so-called “Babylonian Theodicy” (BWL, 63–91), the wise friend is called iu (l. 1) itpeu (commentary), and is asked “where is the wise man (bl pakku = with wide understanding) of your caliber? Where is the scholar (md = knowing) who can compete with you?” (ll. 5–6). Later on the sufferer says about him “My friend, your mind is a river whose spring never fails, the accumulated mass of the sea, which knows no decrease” (23–24). This same wise friend says to the sufferer, who obviously is also a wise man, “O palm, tree of wealth, my precious brother, endowed with all wisdom (nagab nmeqi) …” (56–57). The sufferer is also a holder of understanding (r uzni = possessor of ear; 78). Now this composition is attributed in a literary catalogue to a certain [x]-iddina mamau ummn Bbil, “PN exorcist, scholar of Babylon”, and the acrostic which starts its lines mentions a Saggil-knam-ubbib mamau kribu ili u arri, “PN, exorcist, who blesses god and king”, which shows at least that the literary creativity of men of ummnu status extended beyond composition of works in their specific disciplines. If the Babylonian Theodicy is an autobiographical work, then the terms of wisdom found in it would apply to the author.



Towards an Image of the “Wise Man” in Akkadian Writings

71

Two of the experts were alqu a mt Aur, translated as “Flüchtlinge aus Assyrien” by Hunger, who commented that this indicates that a man’s background need not disqualify him from employment as a scribe. One of the men was “inscribed” or “tattooed” (aru) on the face and hands, probably referring to a mark of slavery, indicating that he may have been a captive, a debtor, or a thief enslaved for his crime. Marduk-šāpik-zēri learned the profession of performing laments from his father, and some of the recommended experts are mentioned along with their sons. In one case the family of the recommended man is mentioned, but the text is broken and it is impossible to know whether all members of the family engaged in the same profession. Finally, one of the lamentation singers was an “apprentice” (amall), but even he is said to have completely mastered the profession. This text indicates the need for professional education and knowledge, but not necessarily experience. In other words, even a beginning specialist could find work at court. The writer’s self degradation and death-wish with which the letter opens, indicate that disloyalty to the king can be a cause for dismissal and even execution. This text demonstrates that not all men designated ummnu and desirable to the king were of equal talent and experience. It also shows that the pertinent professions were passed down in the family. Moreover, Hunger pointed out that none of the men mentioned in this letter appears anywhere else, which may indicate that this letter of recommendation fell on deaf ears or was rejected. But, it is possible that those recommended received lower ranking positions.19 Parpola distinguishes between important advisors belonging to an “inner circle,” and others in an “outer circle;” and in this reckoning Marduk-šāpik-zēri from whom we possess only one letter, would be included in the outer circle. There may have even been more, even broader circles which included those mentioned in the present letter, and as happens in bureaucracies even in our time, they remained anonymous. In summary, this letter shows that the caste of specialist-ummnus at the king’s disposal was a variegated group. All were trained specialists, all “wise men,” but with different backgrounds, in various disciplines, and with a wide range of competence. Training Scholars. Given the importance of professional education and competence as a qualification for ummnu status, a word should be said about training these experts at the time of this document, i. e. in the neo19  SAA 7 1 and 2 may list such lower ranking advisors. Some of those listed have left letters of their own, and as many as ten others may be mentioned in letters of others, but only Issar-šumu-erēš, Nabû-nādin-šumi, Bēl-ušēzib, and Nabû-zēru-iddina are both in the lists and also considered by Parpola as from the inner circle. Interestingly, three of the four are mentioned first in their respective categories.

72

Victor Avigdor Hurowitz

Assyrian period. Unlike the Sumerian or Old-Babylonian school, 20 there are no amusing stories indicative of the neo-Assyrian place or way of learning. Nor are there teaching contracts like the fifteen such documents from the neo-Babylonian period. 21 The major evidence about scribal training at the time of these letters would be “school tablets” inscribed with exercises and excerpts, as they are for other periods. These artifacts, which are the direct output of scribal training, are primary evidence for the curricula and learning assignments at the respective schools. But this is hardly the place to enter a study of such items. 22 On the other hand, I would like to look briefly 20  See now E. Robson: The Tablet House: A Scribal School in Old Babylonian Nippur, RA 95 (2001), 39–66; A. George: In Search of the É.DUB.BA.A: The Ancient Mesopotamian School in Literature and Reality, in: Y. Sefati, et al. (ed.), An Experienced Scribe Who Neglects Nothing: Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Honor of Jacob Klein, Bethesda 2005, 127–137. For curriculum in the Sumerian schools, see N. Veldhuis: Elementary Education at Nippur. The Lists of Trees and Wooden Objects. Groningen 1997; idem: Sumerian Proverbs in their Curricular Context, JAOS 120 (2000), 385–399; and cf. M. Civil: From the Epistolary of the Edubba, in: A. George/I. Finkel, Wisdom, Gods and Literature: Studies in Assyriology in Honour of W. Lambert, Winona Lake, IN 2000, 105–118. 21  See H. Petschow: Lehrverträge, RLA 6 (1980–1983), 556–570. These documents are essentially apprenticeship contracts, for various trades such as cultic performing and dancing (kurgarrtu, upptu), sack making (sabsinntu), architecture (arad-ekalltu), laundering (pammtu), carpentry (naggartu), baking (nuatimmtu), weaving (ipartu), stone cutting (purkulltu), tailoring (kirtu), and leather working (akptu). There is, however, one damaged document which seems to be a contract for teaching the more academic professions associated with the ummnus, namely kaltu and iptu. For two neo-Babylonian letters concerning the teaching of reading (liginna qab/uqb) to private and temple slaves, see M. Dietrich: Babylonische Sklaven auf der Schreiberschule: Anspielungen auf uparrtu-Lehrverträge in OIP 114,83 und YOS 19,110, in: W. van Soldt, et al. (ed.), Veenhof Anniversary Volume: Studies Presented to K. Veenhof on the Occasion of his Sixty-Fifth Birthday, Uitgaven van het Nederlands Historisch-Archaeologisch Instituut te Istanbul 89, Leiden 2001, 67–81. The famous Birashenna letter from fourteenth century Shechem in Canaan was considered to be a letter from a teacher to a nobleman requesting food allotments as payment for tutoring. But a key word in this document is of questionable reading, and it may have nothing to do with teaching at all. See A. Demsky: The Education of Canaanite Scribes in the Mesopotamian Cuneiform Tradition, in: J. Klein/A. Skaist, Bar-Ilan Studies in Assyriology: Dedicated to Pinhas Artzi, Bar-Ilan Studies in Near Eastern Languages and Cultures, Ramat Gan 1990, 157–170, who maintains the older interpretation, and A. Shaffer: Cuneiform Tablets from Palestine I: The Letter from Shechem”, in: M. Cogan (ed.), Linguistic Studies in Memory of Moshe Held (Beer Sheva 3), Beer Sheba 1988, 163–169 (Hebrew), who reads differently. 22  For medical training (astu and iputu) in later periods see I. Finkel: On Later Babylonian Medical Training, in: Studies … W. G. Lambert, 137–223, esp. 140–145. For scribal education in various periods and areas see works such as Pearce/Doty: The Activities of AnuBēlšunu, Selucid Scribe, in: Assyrologica et semitica, 2000, 331–341; P. Gesche: Schulunterricht in Babylonien im ersten Jahrtausend v. Chr., AOAT 275, Münster 2001; N. Veldhuis: On the Curriculum of the Neo-Babylonian School, JAOS 123 (2003), 627–633; idem: Kassite Exercises: Literary and Lexical Extracts, JCS 52 (2000), 67–94; W. Horowitz: An Assur Source for Urra 21, AfO 35 (1988), 64–72; P. Artzi: Studies in the Library of the Amarna Archive, in: J. Klein and A. Skaist, Bar-Ilan Studies in Assyriology dedicated to Pinhas Artzi, Ramat-Gan ˙



Towards an Image of the “Wise Man” in Akkadian Writings

73

at some documents which actually refer to training scribes and scholars, which offer unique glances into certain aspects of education not revealed by the students’ workbooks which have been the main focus of study. The best known reference to scribal training is Assurbanipal’s famous boast about his own education which may reveal the extent of the curriculum. After describing his extraordinary intelligence and aptitude granted him by pertinent deities including Marduk, apkallu of the gods, and Nabû, the all encompassing scribe, he says: I am versed in the craft of the sage Adapa; I studied the secret lore of the entire scribal craft, I know the celestial and terrestrial portents. I discuss with competence in the circle of the masters (puur ummn); I argue about the text “If the liver is a correspondence of the sky” with the expert diviners (NUN.Ì.MEŠ lti). I can solve the most complicated divisions and multiplications which do not have a solution. I have read intricate tablets inscribed with obscure Sumerian or Akkadian difficult to unravel, and examined sealed, obscure, and confused inscriptions23 on stone from before the Deluge.

Assurbanipal eloquently portrays himself as a super-scholar with divinely endowed ability who has studied the most difficult topics with the experts. The education he describes resembles the training to which other documents under discussion here make allusion, but the level is advanced, so he is surely claiming to have enjoyed “higher education.” But there are also more mundane texts about the training of less exceptional scholars. First of all, more than fifty tablets bear colophons indicating explicitly that they were inscribed for didactic purposes, 24 and various aspects of the pedagogic process: ana talimti (for instruction) denotes culling excerpts from other tablets; ana qab (for dictation) refers to recitation from a tablet containing texts or excerpts; ana tmarti or ana amri (for seeing/ reading) with or without ana itassi (for reading out) or ana tasisti (for listening/understanding/remembering) indicate copying for instructional purpose; and ana azi (for learning) denotes acquisition and mastering 1990, 139–156; S. Izreel: The Amarna Scholarly Tablets, Cuneiform Monographs 9, Groningen 1997, esp. 4–13; A. Demsky: The Education of Canaanite Scribes in the Mesopotamian Cuneiform Tradition, in Bar-Ilan Studies … Pinhas Artzi, 157–170; and G. Beckman: Mesopotamians and Mesopotamian Learning at Hattusha, JCS 35 (1983), 97–114. 23  For the term kakku sakku ballu, “sealed up, blocked up, mixed up”, see W. Lambert: A Late Babylonian Copy of an Expository Text, JNES 48 (1989), 215–221, esp. 220. This term has recently been compared with ‫כי סתמים וחתמים הדברים‬, “for the words are stopped up and sealed” in Daniel 12:9. See S. Paul: Daniel 12:9 – A Technical Mesopotamian Scribal Term, in: C. Cohen/A. Hurvitz/S. Paul: Sefer Moshe: The Moshe Weinfeld Jubilee Volume: Studies in the Bible and the Ancient Near East, Qumran, and Post-Biblical Judaism, Winona Lake, IN 2004, 115–118. 24  See L. Pearce, Statements of Purpose: Why the Scribes Wrote, in: M. Cohen/D. Snell/D. Weisberg (eds.), The Tablet and The Scroll: Near Eastern Studies in Honor of William W. Hallo, Bethesda 1993, 185–193.

74

Victor Avigdor Hurowitz

of technical knowledge. Taking these terms together shows that copying and learning involved reading, remembering and understanding by means of visual, oral and aural immersion in the material studied. According to a well known etiological myth concerning the origins of the divinatory arts and their revelation to humanity by Šamaš through the auspices of King Enmeduranki:25 The learned savant (ummnu md), who guards the secrets of the great gods, will bind by oath 26 before Šamaš and Adad by tablet and stylus the son whom he loves and will teach him (uaassu).

This passage might lead one to think that training diviners, which involved the inculcation of esoteric knowledge, was a family matter, the father personally teaching his favorite son. 27 However, this is probably an idealistic depiction, and in fact much training may have been done outside the home in schools or study halls. A text indicating this to be so is SAA 11 156. 28 This document was formerly classified as a letter (ABL 447), but with no epistolary formulae, it should be considered some sort of administrative document or report. Although in SAA 11 Parpola calls it “Babylonians Working in the Library,” in an earlier publication he characterized it as “an account

25  W. Lambert, The Qualifications of the Babylonian Diviners, in: S. Maul (ed.), Festschrift für Rykle Borger zu seinem 65. Geburtstag am 24. Mai 1994. tikip santakki mala bašmu, Cuneiform Monographs 10, Groningen 1998, 141–158, esp. 149 ll. 19–22. 26  SAA 10 7 speaks about various types of scholars including diviners entering into a covenant (ina libbi ad errub), but this may be a political event not necessarily related to the private adjuration referred to in the Enmeduranki text. A closer parallel to that oath is probably the “Diviner’s Protocol” from Mari, AEM I/1 1, in which the diviner pledges not to conceal anything from Zimri-lim. See V. Hurowitz, Eli’s Adjuration of Samuel (1 Samuel III 1–18) in the Light of a Diviner’s Protocol from Mari (AEM I/1, 1), VT 44 (1994), 483–497 for a discussion of this text and later parallels. We can also compare the guild oaths published and discussed by D. Weisberg: Guild Structure and Political Allegiance in Early Achaemenid Mesopotamia, Yale Near Eastern Researches 1, New Haven/London 1967, esp. 29–42. 27  This line may be compared to a line on an unpublished tablet, perhaps from Sippar (BM 42294; 8–7–1, 54), about teaching astronomy: ana mru a irammu liiz, “He may teach it to the son whom he loves”. See I. Finkel: On Late Babylonian Medical Training, 141 n. 11, who discusses the passage in the context of “trade secrets” in competing medical schools. See also SAA 10 182 r. 28 where Tabnî says to the crown prince: “I have learned (my craft) from my (own) father”, [ank]u issi qt abja assamda, the craft including extispicy, tablets, and writing reports. ABL 1245 (SAA 16 65), a letter to Esarhaddon, complains of a goldsmith who privately educated the son of a Babylonian slave in exorcism, extispicy, and gleanings from Enma Anu Enlil, without permission of the king, implying that teaching could be done outside a school setting. See Parpola: Festschrift Wolfgang Röllig, 321, n. 18. For transmission and preservation of scholarly specialties in a single family, in this case kaltu, ritual mourning, see P.-A. Beaulieu: The Descendants of Sîn-lēqi-unninni, in: Assyriologica et Semitica, 1–16. 28  F. Fales/J. Postgate: Imperial Administrative Records 2, SAA 11, Helsinki 1995.



Towards an Image of the “Wise Man” in Akkadian Writings

75

of school activities,”29 and, to be sure, it can be read as a small, laconic vignette of an ancient Assyrian school. It is possible, of course, that teaching occurred in the same place regular “library work” was done and that scribes learned by working in a library, in which case, the school would have been subsumed under the library.30 The document tells of several Babylonians working under supervision on various scholarly compositions. Two of them are “reciting tablets” (liginnu iqabb31), which may indicate either oral performance, recitation by memory, or learning (cf. liginnu as mentioned above). Two have completed a composition (ugammer), and three are completing a series according to its original tablet (adi uppu ikara ugammar), which implies copying an existing work. Another composition is being worked on by nine students in the presence of an expert scholar (issi ummni izzazz … dullu eppa). Most students, then, are working in groups, and only two seem to be working alone, although under supervision. As for the students themselves, they are all Babylonians by name, but one is still a prisoner and is put back in chains when he finished his assignment. One may be the son of a captured Aramaean chieftain.32 If this text describes an entire school, then it would have been rather small and select. There are no more than eighteen students, three named teachers, and a larger group of ummnus. If the text describes only part of a larger facility, then certain students at least received close attention. The named compositions studied here are Ikaru, Utukk lemntu, and bt mari. The first may be a name for Enma Anu Enlil, and the last is probably enma ana bt mari ipu illaku, “When the exorcist goes to the house of the sick man,” in which case the subjects learned are astronomy, exorcism, and perhaps medicine, all part of the standard academic program we have already encountered. 29  Iraq 34 (1972) 33 (= M. Luukko/G. Van Buylaere: The Political Correspondence of Esarhaddon, SAA 16, Helsinki 2002, no. 21). In a more recent publication he again refers to this letter in connection with Daniel being schooled in Mesopotamian religious and scientific lore as part of the imperial indoctrination program. See. S. Parpola: The Originality of the Teachings of Zarathustra in the Light of Yasna 44, in C. Cohen/A. Hurvitz/S. M. Paul (eds.), Sefer Moshe: The Moshe Weinfeld Jubilee Volume, Winona Lake, IN 2004, 373–383, esp. 380, n. 27. 30  Note the similarity in vocabulary between the activities described here and the Mardukšāpik-zēri letter discussed above. 31  See Pearce: Statements of Purpose, 186 n. 12. The term liginna qab/uqb can mean to pronounce/cause to pronounce, read, learn, study/teach. See P.-A. Beaulieu: New Light on Secret Knowledge in Late Babylonian Culture, ZA 82 (1992), 98–111, esp. 103–105. 32  Parpola has compared their training with that of Daniel and his friends as described in the Bible. This story has already been compared with earlier Mesopotamian material from Mari. See S. Paul: From Mari to Daniel: Instructions for the Acceptance of Servants into the Royal Court, in: S. Ahituv/B. Levine, Eretz Israel 24, Abraham Malamat Volume, Jerusalem 1993, 161–163 (Hebrew); and idem: The Mesopotamian Background of Daniel 6, in: J. Collins/P. Flint (eds.), The Book of Daniel: Composition and Reception, Leiden 2001, 55–68, esp. 62–63.

76

Victor Avigdor Hurowitz

A letter from the scribes of Kilizi to the king (SAA 10 143) indicates that the scribes were also teachers and that they and their pupils could be distracted from school work by outside duties. The writers complain “Because of the ilku-duty and the corvée work we cannot keep the watch of the king, and the pupils do not learn the scribal craft (didab uparrtu la ilammud).” Since the authors of this letter seem to be astronomers, the uparrtu their students are learning may be astronomy, rather than simply “scribal craft,” as Parpola translates. Another letter indicating the teaching responsibilities of astronomers seems to relate to more advanced students. In SAA 10 171 the writer complains: “The apprentices whom the king appointed in my charge (amall a arru ina pnja ipqidu) have learned Enma Anu Enlil; what is my fault that the king has not summoned me with his scholars?” The writer is irate, feels slighted and thinks that since he has successfully carried out his task as a teacher he deserves to be respected with the other scribes and be summoned to the king. The curriculum in some of the professions could be changed. A letter from diviner Marduk-šumu-usur and two colleagues (SAA 10 177) advises ˙ studied. They say: “The series should be making changes in the material revised. Let the king command: two ‘long’ tablets containing explanations of antiquated words should be removed, and two tablets of the haruspex’s corpus should be put (instead).” A Scholar Stands Up to the King. The professional expertise emphasized in Marduk-šāpik-zēri’s letter and the goal of the scribal curriculum is felt in numerous other letters in which the scholars are seen practicing their advisory capacities, quoting and expounding on texts, 33 and even arguing with named and unnamed colleagues over their proper interpretation.34 But these men were also individuals with traits and personalities unrelated to their specialist training, experience, and professional performance. The writers of these letters had the rhetorical skills to compose an effective petition,35 were sufficiently self assured so they could speak 33  This can be readily appreciated by a glance at the numerous references to the reports of magicians and astrologers in the notes to the texts in SAA 10. 34  See SAA 10 23, 60, 72. Cf. E. Leichty: Divination, Magic, and Astrology in the Assyrian Royal Court, Assyria 1995: Proceedings of the 10th Anniversary Symposium of the NeoAssyrian Text Corpus Project Helsinki, September 11, 1995, The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, Helsinki 1997, 161–164, esp. 162. In SAA 10 182 r. 24–28 Tabnî claims that two other scribes possess non-canonical tablets and tablets of all kinds, he has learned from his father, implying some superior knowledge. 35  The bilingual composition, “In Praise of Scribal Art,” starts off with the assertion that uparrtu is the mother of eloquence. According to SAA 10 30, Assurbanipal expressed concern over his own rhetorical ability, to which his advisor replies: “on account of that (newly erected cross symbolizing Nabû) you will speak a word that is as perfect as that of a sage; a word that has been spoken just as it is meant by its nature, by its … by its dignity, (that) suits



Towards an Image of the “Wise Man” in Akkadian Writings

77

for themselves and on behalf of others, and were important enough that their petitions would reach the king. So we find numerous letters relating to the scribes’ personal fortunes, and in particular financial straits, difficulties with the authorities, or legal problems.36 Not only this, but prying below the veneer of obsequiousness and self-debasement enveloping many of the letters, uncovers cases of strong personalities as expected and even required of high placed personages in positions of responsibility. Such an advisor was Urad-Gula. The stylus of this intriguing character produced for us seven letters (SAA 10 28–295), including one of extreme literary merit and rhetorical sophistication (SAA 10 294) which reveals little about his purely professional competence37 but speaks reams about his personality. This letter, which can be typified as a personal characterreference, was edited and discussed separately by Parpola.38 My own study of the letter illuminated some biblical parallels on the levels of style and the context, is (such a word) open to dispute? Does it not inspire awe? Is this not the very acme of the scribal craft (letu a uparrti) of which I am arguing in this way? Should the talk be praised?” Urad-Gula also resorts to legal stratagems, and it should be remembered that law was also part of the scribal curriculum. The laws of Hammurabi were studied, the lexical lists contained important legal phrases, and composition of model court briefs was part of the curriculum. See, e. g. W. Hallo: A Model Court Case Concerning Inheritance, in: Tzvi Abusch (ed.), Riches Hidden in Secret Places: Ancient Near Eastern studies in Memory of Thorkild Jacobsen, Winona Lake, IN 2002, 141–154, with references to previous discussions. 36  In one letter (SAA 10 161), a certain Munnabitu asks the king to hear a case he and his brothers have against Aššur-etir who has been filling the king’s ears with false accusations ˙ (SAA 10 163–164) Nabû-iqbi complains that while keeping against them. In two other letters the king’s various officials legal adversaries have illegitimately taken his property. In SAA 10 165 Nergal-et ir asks the king to provide a bodyguard so he can free his brother and retrieve his property. ˙In SAA 10 166 Rašil thanks the king for having saved his life in the past. In SAA 10 167 the same Rašil complains that an official has independently dissolved a contract the king had made. In SAA 10 180 Nasir asks the crown prince to give him a house the king had ˙ yet received. In SAA 10 227 and 228 Adad-šumu-usur promised him, but which he had not profusely and obsequiously thanks the king for great favors done to him and his family.˙In SAA 10 289 Urad-Gula complains about salary. In SAA 10 307 someone petitions on behalf of a friend, and SAA 10 308 is a petition on behalf of a brother. In SAA 10 320 chief physician Urad-Nanaya asks for a month’s vacation after having worked very hard on some difficult patients. In SAA 10 334 Nabû-tabni-usur complains that he has not been treated well in ˙ for the king’s encouragement. In 10 383 a certain comparison with other courtiers and asks courtier who has been dismissed asks to be restored. For business activities of scribes in a later period see L. Pearce/L. Doty: The Activities of Anu-belšunu, Selucid Scribe, Assyriologica et Semitica, 331–341, esp. 337–349. 37  According to l. 19 he received portions with the exorcists. In l. 31 he compares himself with first ranking scholars (ummni dannti), in l. 35 he compares himself with an apprentice to a second exorcist (amall a ipi an), and in rev. 16 he claims to have been replaced by an exorcist (ipu) from Ekallate. In a broken passage at the top of the reverse, he mentions medical potions and ointments, which may be somehow related to his profession. 38  S. Parpola: The Forlorn Scholar, in F. Rochberg-Halton (ed.), Language, Literature, and History. Philological and Historical Studies presented to Erica Reinder, American Oriental Series 67, 257–258.

78

Victor Avigdor Hurowitz

realia.39 I return to it here as a window through which one may view UradGula the man. Two letters from Urad-Gula’s high-ranking father Adad-šuma-usur (SAA 10 224 and 226) contain requests on his behalf, and indicate that˙he had been apprentice to the chief physician under Sennacherib, and exorcist (ipu) under Esarhaddon, but he lost his position when Assurbanipal ascended the throne. One letter claims that no one has mentioned him to the king and that he is dying of a broken heart. The other describes in “highfalutin’” poetry the riches and happiness in the time of Assurbanipal, but also complains that the king, who has been kind even to those condemned to death, prisoners, the sick, and the hungry and the thirsty, has left UradGula to languish in misery. Urad-Gula’s own letter fills in the story of his life, reveals his personal circumstances at the time of writing, and begs the king to be kind to him. Here follows a passage by passage analysis of the letter:40 (I, II) The letter opens with an address to the king, the name of the sender, and fourteen (2 × 7) special blessings formulated in parallelism and containing verbs in the expected precative (liprus and liparris) forms. (III) Following the blessings one expects to find the body of the letter in second person and addressed to the king himself; and after such warm blessings as those with which this letter begins, one might anticipate only good things. Nonetheless, Urad-Gula turns here to Šamaš, god of justice, requesting that he direct his ear and attention to “your just judgment” (dn kittka). This request may be interpreted in two ways. On the one hand, it may mean “may Šamaš listen to the just judgment which you judge;” i. e. may he enjoy the fact that you judge justly, just as a king should. On the other hand, it may mean, as Parpola translates “may Shamash … be receptive to a just verdict concerning you.” This jolting deviation from the usual epistolary style has the effect of turning the letter into a trial, a dn kitti, in which Šamaš will be judge and the king the accused.41 The following sentence as well links to the appeal to Šamaš. Urad-Gula turns again to the king, but this time he invites him to hear his servant’s, 39  V. Hurowitz: ABL 1285 and the Hebrew Bible: Literary Topoi in Urad-Gula’s Letter of Petition to Assurbanipal, SAAB 7 (1993), 9–17. 40  At the end of this article, I provide a normalized transliteration and translation of the letter divided into the relevant passages and indicating some of the poetic elements detected. I follow Parpola’s reconstruction and translation of the text, although there are several places where the sentences are divided somewhat differently and more literal translations are preferred. The Roman numerals in the discussion refer to the letter according to the passage numbering in this transliteration. 41  This rhetorical strategy is reminiscent of the so-called “Rb pattern” noticed in various biblical prophecies. See inter alia B. Gemser: The Rb – or Controversy – Pattern in Hebrew Mentality, VTSup 3 (1955), 120–127; and H. Huffmon: The Covenant Lawsuit in the Prophets, JBL 78 (1959), 290–295.



Towards an Image of the “Wise Man” in Akkadian Writings

79

i. e. his own “judgment” (case, lawsuit, just plea). Parpola has identified the words arru … ana dni liqla as a literary allusion to the well known “Advice to a Prince” which begins with the sentence arru ana dni l iql niu ine massu inammi, “(If) the king did not listen to a case – His people will become chaotic, his land will be laid waste.”42 By this double barreled allusion, the writer reminds the king of his royal duty to hear his servant’s case, and at the same time threatens him with the punishment expected for not doing so. We must remember here that Assurbanipal had rid himself of Urad-Gula and now ignores his pleas. If so, immediately after the flattery and blessings, Urad-Gula initiates a lawsuit against the king,43 and, reminding him that Šamaš is the true judge, that he has sinned, that he has neglected his duty, and that he can expect to be punished. (IV) Urad-Gula opens his case against the king by describing his past services to the crown. At the time of the king’s father he started his career at court. At first he was poor, worthless as a dead dog, a nothing, but the king elevated him from the trash heap, his name was mentioned with the dignitaries, and he received a respectable salary including food portions, beasts for burden and work, and silver. Parpola has compared the self-depiction as a lapnu mr lapni, “a pauper, son of a pauper,” to the legendary Poor Man of Nippur who was also lapnu.44 This common word alone can hardly be considered a literary allusion by itself, but the intertextual relationship receives confirmation from a reference further on (XV) describing Urad-Gula’s garment as a tn a kuzipp, “a change of official clothes,” and the word tn, “change,” means “change of clothes” only in that composition. If these terms indeed allude to the story of the Poor Man of Nippur, then they also harbor an implied threat; Urad-Gula depicts himself as the legendary pauper who took revenge on the mayor who had mocked him and done a shocking injustice by repaying good with evil, and Assurbanipal can expect the same from his slighted, impoverished servant. This passage (IV) maintains the literary level of the blessings and invocation (II, III), using some poetic parallelism as indicated in the See V. Hurowitz: Advice to a Prince: A Message from Ea, SAAB 12 (1998), 39–53. It seems that Urad-Gula employs this same ploy in SAA 10 289 as well. This letter, addressed to Esarhaddon(?), is also a salary complaint. Rather than a blessing formula, it starts with a most peculiar wish: “May all the gods whom [the king, my lor]d, has revered today, very much stand by the king and by [Assur]banipal and Šamaš-šum-ukīn on (the day of) their trial!” (ina dni a RN u RN lizzizz). Strictly speaking this wish is positive, but it contains veiled criticism of the king’s religiosity, even implying hypocrisy, and suggests that the royal family is in some sort of legal trouble. 44  For a more extensive comparison of Urad-Gula’s letter with the “Poor Man of Nippur,” see B. Lion: La conception de la pauvreté dans les texts littéraires akkadiens, in: J. Prosecký (ed.), Intellectual Life of the Ancient Near East: Papers Presented at the 43rd Rencontre assyriologique internationale Prague, July 1–5, 1996, Prague 1998, 199–214, esp. 211–214. 42  43 

80

Victor Avigdor Hurowitz

transliteration. Moreover, the similarity between “I was a poor man … he (the king) lifted me up from the dung heap … my name was mentioned among men of good fortune” in this passage and the prayer of Hannah (1 Sam 2:8; cf. Ps 113:9) ‫ להושיב עם נדיבים וכסא‬/ ‫ מאשפות ירים אביון‬/ ‫מקים מעפר דל‬ ‫כבוד ינחילם‬, “He raises the poor from the dust, lifts up the needy from the dunghill, setting them with nobles, granting them seats of honor,” shows use of traditional poetic images and a high literary level.45 If so, then even in describing mundane matters the author maintains the high literary level, draws the reader’s attention, and inspires in him the feelings associated with reading poetry. Passage (V) reviews the days when the king was crown-prince. UradGula had received portions from the royal table along with other exorcists, this being a sign of his elevated position. At that time he stood guard at the windows (maaru [a]ttaar), but he also stood in front of the crown prince and guarded his ikkib, “abominations” (ikkbu attaar). Parpola translates this obscure term as “privileges,” i. e. Assurbanipal’s private secrets. In any case, Urad-Gula contrasts the physical watch over the body of the king with guarding other things as well. These secrets were kept by avoiding entrance into the houses of other noblemen and officials without permission of the crown prince. Moreover, Urad-Gula had the appearance of one who “ate lions’ portions” and also placated Assurbanipal’s gods. The first image may imply that he scared away the king’s enemies like a lion, in which case he claims to have guarded the young king from injury by other people, a bad reputation, and divine wrath. He pacified the king’s ilu, who would have been Assurbanipal’s personal deity and intercessor before other gods. As such, Urad-Gula essentially played the role of such a personal god. The sixth passage (VI) arrives at the time of the king himself. Assurbanipal came to power and established his own good name. But Urad-Gula was not treated in accordance with his past deeds and now finds himself at the edge of death. This passage concludes with a line which may be interpreted as a bi-colon adage – “A bad name (is) gossip (whispering) // and divulging a word is hateful.” The words umu l danqu echo the umu damqu which the king was said earlier to have established for himself; but here he slanders his servant.46 The king is being accused here of hypocrisy for having established his own good name even while besmirching the name of Urad-Gula. (VII) After this serious accusation, Urad-Gula resumes his claim of loyalty to the king, and for the sake of emphasis repeats some of the language See Hurowitz: Urad-Gula’s Petition. If my division into passages is correct, then the terms umu damqu and uma la danqa form an inclusio. 45 

46 



Towards an Image of the “Wise Man” in Akkadian Writings

81

of the initial claim, and in particular guarding the privileges of the king, while adding a complaint that he received no compensation.47 However, he strengthens his claim with a pregnant literary allusion. In obv. 29–30 he describes his previous service and states: […] u kanu kadru u pulutu a ekalli urd a ziqni u a ri ussammid mnu ina [l]ibbi azku? [x] and submission, toil and fear of the palace, I taught the servants, the noneunuchs and eunuchs alike, and what did I get for it?

It just happens that the underlined words in this passage are highly reminiscent of Ludlul bl nmeqi II 32 (BWL 40): u puluti ekalli ummn ualmad and I taught the people fear of the palace

In fact, the two statements are nearly identical, the only difference being the substitution of people, ummnu,48 with servants and courtiers urd a ziqni u a ri. The expression puluti ekalli is found only in these two texts.49 Moreover, pulutu lummudu/ulmudu occurs only in these two texts, and the closest parallel palu u itudu la ualmidu niu, “(like one) who has not had his people taught assiduous obedience,” is also from Ludlul II 18 (BWL 38).50 Not only are the expressions identical, but they appear in highly similar contexts. Urad-Gula claims that Assurbanipal has abandoned him for no reason despite his faithful service in the past, and that the king has ignored his petitions, leaving his behavior unexplained. Šubši-mešrê-šakkan, the “righteous sufferer”51 of Ludlul, also portrays himself as an ideal servant of the king (II 27–32) and the gods (II 23–26), cannot understand why he has been ill treated by the gods, and cannot find an answer through the stand-

47  This passage is delineated by an inclusion formed by the synonyms abata and azku in the first and last lines. 48  Lambert (BWL) and B. Foster: Before the Muses, Bethesda, MD 32005, 399 translate “the populace” and Von Soden (TUAT III/1 p. 122) translates “die Menge”, probably because it is in the singular and parallel with nija utiz in l. 30. However, ummnu, meaning mass of people, is a near homonym of ummnu, “expert,” and Urad-Gula, himself an ummnu, may have understood the word in this manner or be playing on this interpretation by substituting for them “courtiers.” 49  See AHw 878b s. v. pulutu. 50  See CAD L 58 b s. v. lamdu 8. 51  This appellation remains proper for the protagonist in “Ludlul,” regardless of the fact that the composition as a whole can no longer be considered a parallel to the biblical book of Job. The fact remains that he suffers and for no apparent reason. Interestingly, L. Milano notes this expression characterizes Urad-Gula as well as Gimil-Ninurta in “The Poor Man of Nippur” (Aspects of Meat Consumption in Mesopotamia and the Food Paradigm of the Poor Man of Nippur, State Archives of Assyria Bulletin 12 [1998], 117–127, esp. 115–116).

82

Victor Avigdor Hurowitz

ard means of divination.52 In other words, both men portray themselves as perfect, devoted servants of the king, yet their services have gone unrewarded and they have been ignored and fallen on hard times. In such identical contexts the appearance of identical and uniquely worded claims about past service becomes more striking, and strongly indicates that this is a case not of a stock phrase but of literary borrowing and allusion, invoking one text by another. The strategic purpose of this allusion is clear. By invoking Ludlul, a text assumed to be known to the king, Urad-Gula casts himself as the protagonist of Ludlul, one whom modern readers rightly call the “righteous sufferer,” and emphasizes that he has been done wrong. Since the king is clearly to blame for Urad-Gula’s woes, he is essentially equating the king with whatever capricious powers caused the suffering of the protagonist in Ludlul. But, by appealing to the king for succor, Urad-Gula simultaneously elevates him to the role of Marduk who in Ludlul is the preferred deity for appeals and the ultimate source of the sufferer’s salvation.53 In other words, Urad-Gula holds the stick from both ends, forcing Assurbanipal to decide what he wants to be vis-à-vis his faithful servant - malevolent nemesis and unjust tormentor, or benevolent savior in the image of Marduk. (VIII) After accusing the king and comparing himself with the righteous sufferer of Ludlul out of hope of stirring feelings of remorse and sympathy, Urad-Gula again requests/demands his just due.54 He deserves to be given a donkey, but before making his request, he informs the king of the practice regarding top-ranking as well as second-tiered wise men, and his claim is based on inference a minori ad majus (‫)קל וחומר‬. Afterwards he asserts that he deserves a bull, and then makes claim to various other animals which he has not received, and in every case he compares himself with others, especially those of lower standing, and by doing so he persists in his claim of inference. His conclusion is that his work has not been rewarded and that he has labored in vain. The final line of this passage is phrased as two rhetorical questions, hinting to the king that he is the one who should be providing an answer and be held accountable. (IX) The end of the tablet’s obverse is broken, but it seems that UradGula again describes his present situation. Among other things, he prays day and night before the “den of the lion.” Also in describing his present situation he uses in three consecutive sentences the word adaggal, ni, and ukult, which appeared previously in the opposite order in the sentence See below on XV. For Marduk in “Ludlul” see W. Moran: The Babylonian Job, in: R. Hendel (ed.), The Most Magic Word, CBQMS 35, Washington, DC 2002, 182–200. 54  The passage is delineated and divided into two by the chiastically ordered chain of words inaiu … liddinni … ebti // ari … iddun … anai. Note the use of the word pair na/nadnu. 52  53 



Towards an Image of the “Wise Man” in Akkadian Writings

83

kil ukalti a ni attadgil, “I looked like one who ate the lion’s share” (V), and he may be referring back to this and perhaps hinting that the king should see him now and remember the good old days. The reference to the lion’s den, gabu a ni, is not clear. The term is unique in Akkadian writings. The Book of Daniel mentions ‫ גובא דאריותא‬, using lions in the plural, and there is not necessarily a connection between the two. The “Lion’s Den” in our letter could be the throne room of the king. It must be admitted that in Akkadian literature the king is compared only seldom to a nu or labbu, but the Book of Nahum, which may reflect the self image which the Assyrian kings wished to broadcast to non-Assyrians, compares Nineveh to the Lions’ Lair (‫ )מעון אריות‬and in this lair: “… lion and lion’s breed walked, and lion’s cub – with none to disturb them … The lion that tore victims for his cubs and strangled for his lionesses, and filled his lairs with prey and his dens with mangled flesh” (Nah 2:12–13). This lone lion was certainly the King of Assyria. The lines on the bottom edge of the tablet and the first two lines on the reverse are too damaged for interpretation. (X) In the next readable passage Urad-Gula claims to have sent a letter with the eunuch Šarru-nūrī. Mentioning the messenger by name calls for explanation. Urad-Gula may intend to warn the king that a witness can corroborate his claim, and that the king cannot deny that an appeal had been made. The eunuch’s name, which means “the king is my light” is flattering to the king,55 but it should also remind him of the first sentences in the current letter (III) which mentioned ama nr am, and arru, thus indicating to the king that he is still very much on trial. Urad-Gula cites here two lines from the king’s letter: “I did not know about your illness,” and “I had sent for you.” This statement astonishes Urad-Gula, and he considers them most difficult and incomprehensible. He characterizes the king’s words: abtu a arri blja k ad a[puqat], “the word of the king, my lord, are as recondite as a mountain.” This brings to mind a passage from the “Babylonian Theodicy” (BWL 86:25–7): libbi ili kma qereb am nesma; leassu upuqatma ni l lamdat, “The mind of a god is like the heart of the heavens; to know it is extremely difficult // to humans it is impossible to comprehend.” Assurbanipal’s words are, in this case, so difficult to understand, because they are blatantly erroneous. The king knows all too well what Urad-Gula’s situation is, and can hardly deny that he had not sent for him. The only conclusion to draw is that the king is a liar. 55  For eunuchs’ names in general and arru names among them in particular, see H. Baker: Approaches to Akkadian Name-Giving in the First Millennium B. C. E., in: Cornelia Wunsch (ed.), Mining the Archives: Festschrift for Christopher Walker on the Occasion of His 60th Birthday 4 October 2002, Babylonische Archive 1, Dresden 2002, 1–24.

84

Victor Avigdor Hurowitz

(Xa) Urad-Gula does not stop at accusing the king of lying, but from this accusation he resorts to cynicism. Still speaking about the king’s letter, he claims to have placed it before the throne of Nabû, god of scribes. By so doing, the god will be able to read the letter, hold the king at his word, and thereby force him to call for Urad-Gula.56 The appeal to Nabû here has the same effect as the appeal to Šamaš earlier in the letter (III). It must be remembered that Nabû was close to the king who had learned to read and write and had deposited numerous tablets in the god’s temple. Not only this, but Urad-Gula constantly stood watch over the letter, as if it were his only son, so valuable it was to him. The letter’s value and the cynicism in displaying it to Nabû become even more acute, given the fact that Urad-Gula later on claims to have been childless (XIV). The sarcasm continues in the statement that the king can be only happy that his servant’s distress has been alleviated. After all, the king has not lifted a finger to help, and Urad-Gula is essentially saying “thanks for nothing; go jump in a lake.” Afterwards, Urad-Gula cites two adages. One describes what the king should have done, and the other is a reaction to what the king has done in fact. The king should have said, “May he (Urad-Gula) receive my necklace while I am watching (in my own presence),” an act reminiscent of Pharaoh’s decorating Joseph with a gold chain around his neck (Gen 41:42). This means Assurbanipal should have honored Urad-Gula for his beneficial acts in service of the king. The second adage relates to what the king actually did. He put no necklace of honor around Urad-Gula’s neck, but fired him and stabbed him in the back. By so doing he left him with the ability to protest, but by ignoring his letters the king deprived him of the means of communication, as if he stabbed him in the mouth. (XI) The cynicism is surprising and even astonishing, showing again that Urad-Gula has no fear of the king. He counts on his rebuke of the king to be effective, and he then goes back to describing his unfortunate circumstances and his requests. Two of his animals for riding have died, and three times he has had to go on foot to Arbela or Assur. Not only this, but no one felt sorry enough for him to bring him before the king. 57 He may be alluding here to the fact that, because the king has publicly slandered him, everyone realizes he is no longer among those who can see the king’s face, making it inadvisable to help him or even associate with him. To add insult to injury, the king has appointed an exorcist from Ekallate, compelling Urad-Gula to take a desert road, lest someone sees him walking on foot and asks him why he does something so undignified. Finally, he says that people pass in front of his house, some in sedan chairs, and 56  57 

See 2 Kgs 19:14, Isa 37:14. Lion: Le conception de la pauvreté, 212, points to a parallel in “The Poor Man of Nippur.”



Towards an Image of the “Wise Man” in Akkadian Writings

85

some on wagons, and others on donkey back, but he is forced to go by foot. I have already pointed out the similarity between this vision and Qoh 9:6 ‫יש רעה ראיתי תחת השמש כשגגה שיצא מלפני השליט; נתן השכל במרומים רבים‬ ‫ועשירים בשפל ישבו; ראיתי עבדים על סוסים ושרים הלכים כעבדים על הארץ‬, “Here is an evil I have seen under the sun as great as an error committed by a ruler: Folly was placed on lofty heights, while rich men sat in low estate. I have seen slaves on horseback, and nobles walking on the ground like slaves.” What Qoheleth saw Urad-Gula also beheld, and just as the former was astonished, the later wanted the king to be astonished and see the injustice in the matter. (XII) The next passage raises and then refutes a hypothetical claim. The king might say that Urad-Gula is a mr mti, i. e. a land owner. In response to such a possibility Urad-Gula remarks that the king needs only to ask and clarify his true situation and thereby know exactly what his status is, how much property he has, and how he acquired it. Urad-Gula’s father received a field of six homers (seeding capacity) which he divided among his brothers. Urad-Gula received something identical, because he and his brothers each received a field of three homers. But, each brother received two slaves (naptu)58 which were insufficient to work the field, and Urad-Gula was therefore forced to buy five or six additional slaves. It seems that the term ina illi arri blja, “in the shadow of the lord my king,” and “by grace of the king” are not said to his credit, and are actually a cynical aside, as if to say “favors like this I can live without.” (XIII) But matters are worse still. Urad-Gula is childless, and a festival in the Bīt-Kidmurri temple aimed at increasing his wife’s fecundity was to no avail. In addition, three women fled to him, and he is stuck with them, but with no field, plow, or farmer to work the land, he has no means for their support. In short, Urad-Gula is up to his neck in difficulties and the king not only does nothing to help him but also adds to his difficulties. (XIV) At this point, Urad-Gula resorts to a well known legal stratagem. As seen at the outset, the entire petition is presented as a trial in which Šamaš and the king are judges and the king and Urad-Gula are litigants. In this trial, the accused king has not answered the plaintiff’s accusations. Now it happens that in ancient Near Eastern jurisprudence in a case in which there are no witnesses and evidence is not provided, a litigant can support his claims by swearing to the correctness of his claims.59 By so do58  See M. Dietrich: ZI-tim/ZImeš = napultu, Landbewohner, Landarbeiter. Eine Studie über die südbabylonische Gesellschaft im 8. und 7. Jahrhundert v. Chr., in: Gebhard J. Selz (ed.), Festschrift für Burkhart Kienast zu seinem 70. Geburtstag dargebracht von Freunden, Schülern und Kollegen, AOAT 74, Münster 2003, 15–46. 59  See E. Greenstein: A Forensic Understanding of the Speech from the Whirlwind, in: M. V. Fox, et al. (ed.), Texts, Temples and Traditions: A Tribute to Menahem Haran, Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns 1996, 241–258, esp. 246–247.

86

Victor Avigdor Hurowitz

ing, he can force the other side to produce witnesses or counter evidence, and if he does not, then the party who swears wins the case. Following this rule, after Urad-Gula explains his situation and the injustice done him by the king, and the king does not answer, Urad-Gula swears that his situation is indeed as he says it is; and he evokes Anu, Enlil, and Ea, the gods most important to the king who has studied the astronomical series which mentions in its first line Enma Anu Ellil Ea. Urad-Gula swears that he doesn’t have a shoe or enough for a tailor’s wages, and he doesn’t even own a change of clothes (at this point he uses a term borrowed from the tale of the Poor Man of Nippur, alluding as he does to the bitter end of the mayor who wronged the Poor Man). But Urad-Gula’s situation is even worse, for he is in debt. All this is the king’s fault, so the king must defend himself. He concludes his oath and description of his predicament and mentions his advanced age and the adage: “(when) you have reached old age; on whom will you rely?”60 At this point he could rest his case, confident in victory. This rhetorical question presented as an adage concludes the oath and the case against the king, but this is not the end. In fact, at this point the king might still ignore the entire plea, in which event Urad-Gula has no choice but to throw himself on the king’s mercy and beg. In other words, after concluding his suit with a knock-out blow, he does an about-face, and, just to be safe, pleads for mercy from the royal judge. (XV) Urad-Gula begins his plea reconciling himself to the probability that he is not acceptable to the king, and that he has received no encouraging answer from the raggimu (prophet), making it look as if his fate has been sealed for ill and he has no hope. These words are reminiscent of Ludlul I 51–54; II 6–9 which tell of the sufferer’s inability to receive clear omens, and, given a previous citation from Ludlul, may actually be 60  On the basis of the famous “ages of man” passage in STT 400:47, Urad-Gula could have been eighty years old. This hardly seems likely (Parpola suggests that he was 50), and btu is more likely a general term for old age, or this question is said in anticipation of UradGula’s impending old age. I would suggest that tu-kul-ta-ka in this passage is not derived from taklu, “to trust and have confidence in”, but is a by-form of tkultu or ukultu, both from aklu. The question would in fact mean “who will provide for you?,” and this is more appropriate to the overall content of the letter and Urad-Gula’s worries. Note AfO 18 66 iii 14, an OB omen (cf. CAD Š2 399b s. v. btu 1) ina iirtu dannata [immarm]a ina btu akala iraI: “in his youth he will experience famine, but in his old age he will have bread”; MDP 23, 285: 10–16, “facing death, he broke the clod (from the front) and the rear and gave (his estate) to his daughter PN (saying) “as long as I am alive she shall provide me with food (akala tanadma) …”; HSS XIX 11 22–23, “as long as fPN lives mPN will serve her, provide her with food (akala ukkali) …”; and Ruth 4:15, “he will be to you one who restores your life (by giving you drink) and sustains you (with food) in your old age (‫”)ולכלכל את שיבתך‬. Cf. J. Greenfield, Adi balu: Care for the Elderly and its Rewards, in: H. Hirsch (ed.), Vorträge, gehalten auf der 28. Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale in Wien, 10 Juli 1981, AfO 19, Horn 1982, 309–316.



Towards an Image of the “Wise Man” in Akkadian Writings

87

an additional allusion, again emphasizing the injustice being done. Afterwards, in the first words of praise since the very beginning of the letter, he says “My Lord King – it is good to see you, and your attention is wealth!” The words amrka damiq, “it is good to see you” are aimed at the results of questioning the prophet damiq]ta l mur, “I saw no good.” In effect, only the king can avert the evil decree. Urad-Gula’s plea here alludes in general to his initial requests – to be again among those who see the face of the king, and to enjoy the wealth assured those of this high rank. But when he gets down to details, his requests are more modest – two animals and a change of clothing. He concludes his plea as he started it, mentioning the good days of old when the king was still crown prince and a boy and the relationships between the two were good. Most unfortunately, the final lines of the letter are damaged, but they seem to contain some rhetorical questions.

Conclusion Urad-Gula’s letter is a tour de force of rhetoric aimed at convincing Assurbanipal to restore his out-of-favor advisor and support him materially.61 Formally the letter is exquisitely structured, and argued with clarity, logic and cunning. Stylistically, most of the letter is prose but is strewn with poeticisms which add pathos, grasping the heart. The lexicon is not particularly difficult and does not burden the reader, but rhetorical questions engage him, demanding thought and consideration. Assurbanipal will have to think and not be dismissive as he has been. Several well-placed allusions to works assumedly known by the king and reflecting situations analogous to Urad-Gula’s personal circumstances (Advice to A Prince, Ludlul, Poor Man of Nippur) add levels of meaning beyond that deriving from the plain meanings of the words and their syntax. The letter also excels strategically. The beginning and end are marked by the expected and required flattery and begging, but at the heart of the plea, from invocation of the divine judge until the oath, lays a lawsuit in which the king is on trial and the judges are the king himself and the gods, especially Shamash. The claims against the king call into evidence both actions and facts, and even witnesses and written evidence are adduced; all intent on leading to certain unavoidable conclusions. These elements are further enhanced by ample doses of cynicism, sarcasm and utzpah, part of it overt and part of it veiled, but all in a respectable manner befitting a 61  Urad-Gula’s petition is not entirely unique. In SAA 10 182 Tabnî complains to the crown prince about many of the same things and uses some of the same arguments. UradGula’s letter is, nonetheless, far more sophisticated.

88

Victor Avigdor Hurowitz

man of position and honor. The knockout punch is an oath in the name of the gods most important to the king, aimed at disturbing his complacency and forcing him either to justify himself and answer the plaintiff’s challenging questions or to succumb to the plaintiff’s demands. All these things reveal Urad-Gula as a person who excels not only as a scientist and professional advisor, but also a brave-hearted man able to confront fearlessly the king and press frankly his claims. He sees himself as one who is not so self-important that he cannot beg if necessary. He is irresistible and Assurbanipal can hardly do without him. If uparrtu is the “mother of eloquence,” then Urad-Gula has proven himself a worthy son. One can only express sorrow not knowing what became of him in the end.

SAA 10 294 (ABL 1285) I (l. 1)  [Ana arri blja, uradka Urad-Gula: II (ll. 2–11) 1 lu ulmu ana arri blja adanni!] 2 Marduk [Zarpntum Nab Tamtum Itar a Nin Itar] a Arba[il Ninurta Gula Nergal La ana arri blja k]nu adanni adanni likru[b  // 3 m arkti anti dr]ti an[a a]rri blja ana irikti liruk! 4 [ilni rabti a am ereti li]ktarrab arrtka 5–6 nadn zbka [ellti liramm // liu] angtka 7–8 kibis pka li[]ur // [litir lka 9–10 n]akrka liskip // liamqit ajbka 11–12 [garka lia]rrid // lilqut baun 13–14 rtka kma lu u amni eli napar kiat ni[ l]iibb // i d kussi arrtka kma ipik ad liarid ana m ti III (ll. 12–13)  ama nr am u ereti ana dn kittka littakan uznu arru bl ana dni a urdu liqla   //  dibb gabbu arru lmur IV (ll. 14–18)  issi ri ina libbi abu a arri amlu lapnu mār lapni kalbu mtu [sakl]u u sukkuku, anku, issi libbi kiqilliti intathanni [nmu]rtu amaaru // ˘ issi sābī danqāti m [i]zzakkar [r]ti maadti akkal; ˙ ina birt ibai kdunnu alpu ittanna  u attja arpa 1 man 2 man akaad



Towards an Image of the “Wise Man” in Akkadian Writings

89

V (ll. 19–23)  [m] a mr arri blja issi iptu rti amaar [ina lib]bi aptate attitiz maartu [a]ttaar // mu ammar ina maru [a]zzizuni ikkbu attaar ina bt a-ri u a-ziqni a l pu l rub ; kil ukalti a ni attadgil ilka u[s]allima. --------------------------VI (ll. 23–26)  um arru bl iddat abu urtaddi umu damqu uktain u anku l ina pitti epetja epk. Ki [l] ina panittimma agduu napat assakan. šumu la damqu [l]ihšu u šēssû ša abiti izziar ˘ ˙˙ VII (ll. 27–31)  ik[ki]bī a arri blja attaar bl bti l abata // dibbi xxx[x]-tu assaddad mazzassu nubattu; x[x] x x x u kanu kadru u pulutu a ekalli urd a-ziqni u a-ri ussammid mnu ina [lib]bi azku? VIII (ll. 31–34)  umm[u] illaka ummni dannti u [an]ti kdun inaššiū ii issn mri liddi[n]ūni; iss[ni ina] ebti alp uzzazu anku[ma i]ssn alpi lu [xx]x ina libbi ari 2‑u 3‑u [xx] 3 4 ana x[xx iddu]nū; x[xxx ]amall a ipi an x[xx iabba]t [u x i]bil[u xxxxx] ekkal u [ankum]a [mnu an]ašši ul dullu ana m[ni epp]a IX (ll. 38–r. 3)  [xxxxxxx-] a arri l adaggal l[ xxx]x pi [xxxxx ]mu u mu ina pni gabi a ni [arra u]al[l] [xxxxxxxxxxx]x-ni ina libbi ukalti la sammn[i x xxxxxxxx]x libbi birti mirja [x]x[xxx] edge ---------------[xxxxxxxxxxxx]xx[xxxx]x[xxxxxxx] [xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx] [xxxxxxxxxxx] kar [xxxxx]x da [xxxxx] [xxxxxxx] u birti aja issni x[xxxxx] Rev. --------------[xxxxk]al m[a]aqt asti nap[al]ati[xxxxx] [xxxx]x xx [xxxx] agurrutu l k ann ina x[xxx] [xxxx]x-dti X (ll. 3–7)  egirtu ina qt arru-nr a-ri ana arri blja [assapra] u muru libbja uktammera ana arri blja apura. [xx nubat]tu l bdat   egirtu arru ana urdu issapra

90

Victor Avigdor Hurowitz

[m "l ]da k akann amrukni" m "anku [xxxx]-ad tabakka" abtu a arri blja k ad a[puqat] Xa (ll. 8–13)  egirtu issi kuss a Nab u libbi tukulti assakani k mri ed[i] attaari issi mai sinqja parni arru bl adan[ni] [li]bbau l libu urdu l isus m “ina dagālī[ja] lihhura kišādī" ˘ ˘issūni pâšu lidbub, abtu i ‑tu m "ša issi kutal[līšu] mah ˙˙ u ša ina pîšu mahissūni ina libbi mīni˘ lidbub?” ˘ ˙˙ XI (ll. 13–20)  anuurig itta anti issi mar 2 um]mja[ ]m[t][ni; 3‑u ana Arbail mala ana Libbi-li ina pja at[talak] [man]nu rimni qt ibat u l ina pni arri blja u[ribanni]? at ina libbi Ekallte r ipi arru ii u anku [lu] a mudabiri aabat? issi pni a ni iaulnnini m "at ina pka ta[llak]a?” nišū bīta etteqū – dannūti ina kussê šanûti ina saparrati sehrūti ina libbi kūdānī anāku ina šēpēja ˙ ˘ XII (ll. 20–23)  i-SAK-KUL (for isurri) arru iqabbi m "mr mti " arru li[l]: abua 6 imr eqli issi Nab-zru-lir au ibtatq; anku u aua, amlu 3 imr nittii, u 2 naputti issni ina illi arri blja naputti 5 6 aqunu XIII (ll. 23–26)  ina Bt-Kidmurri tarab qartu tappa. Issit,  taddalanni. 5 anti l muatu l balu u marja lau. 3 issti attu anntu ittuqtanni u ikkaru lau ; btu, epinnu, eqlu lau XIV (ll. 26–30)  Anum Ellil u Ea a ina qaqqadi a arri blja kunnni – ummu ammar maennu ammar igri a kiri makni tēnû ša guzippīja ibani! u iql mai ana 6 man arpi qaqqadu l abbulkuni [u ina ]antja m "ana šībūti takšuda, tukkultaku lū mannu?” XV (ll. 31–s. 2)  [ina pni x l] mark elli ana ekalli la tark raggimu [assaal dami]qta l mur maur u diglu untai. [a arri bl]ja, amārka damiq našhurka mašrû! ˘ [libbu xx a ar]ri leb-

lipuranni ammar 2 umme [xxxxx]-ke-e u tēnê ša guzippi. u nari [xxxxx]-da-ta ana mr-arrtu a arri bl[ja xx] [arru bl issi libbi e]ru uddnni mk l x[xxxxx]



Towards an Image of the “Wise Man” in Akkadian Writings

91

[xxxxxxxx]-ni-ba-á [x] e [x][xxxxxx] Side -----------[xxx] ubtumma [xxxxx]x manni issi manni arru uanma[r xxxx] [xxx]-u mannu lmur [EN] [xxxx].MEŠ-u li[bat xxx]x la imat[ta] I [To the king, my lord: Your servant Urad-Gula.] II

1 [Best of health to the king, my lord!] 2 May Marduk and [Zarpanītu, Nabû and Tašmētu, Ištar of Nineveh and Ištar] of Arbe[la, Ninurta and Gula, Nergal and Las ] ˙ very greatly bless [the king my lord, the jus]t one! 3 May they bestow [long days and everlasting years] upon the king, my lord! 4 [May the great gods of Heaven and Earth] constantly bless your kingship; 5–6 [may they love the pure] sacrifices you offer / and [appreci]ate your priesthood; 7–8 may they guard your steps / [and straighten your path]; 9–10 may they defeat your enemies, / slay your foes; 11–12 may they dri[ve off your adversaries] / and pick up their possessions; 13–14 may they make your leadership as beneficial as choicest oil to the totality of all nations, / may they keep the foundation of your throne firm as a rock forever! III May Šamaš, the light of Heaven and Earth, be receptive to a just verdict concerning you; May the king, my lord, heed the case of his servant / may the king see the whole situation! IV Initially, in (the days of) the king’s father, I was a poor man, son of a poor man, a dead dog, a vile and limited person; He lifted me from the dung heap; I got to receive gifts from him; My name was mentioned among men of good fortune, I used to enjoy generous “leftovers;” Intermittently, he used to give me a mule [or] an ox, and for my annual (salary) I achieved a mina or two of silver. V

[In the days] of my lord’s position of crown prince Along with his exorcists I received “leftovers.”

92

Victor Avigdor Hurowitz

I stood [at] the window openings / I kept guard. Each day I stood before him / his privileges I guarded Into the house of a eunuch or a courtier, without his permission I did not enter. I was looked upon like one who eats lion’s morsels / I appeased your god.

-------------------------------------VI

Now, the king my lord, following upon his father / has added upon the good name he has established, but I have not been treated in accordance with my deeds. As never before have I suffered / my life I have relinquished: “A bad name (is) gossip (whispering) // and divulging a word is hateful.”

VII I guarded the privileges of the king my lord, but I did not find any benefactors // I endured […] words, [I made] his office (my) night’s resting place. […] and submission, toil and fear of the palace, I taught the servants, the non-eunuchs and eunuchs alike. What did I get for it? VIII If it is befitting that the first-ranking scholars and (their) assistants receive mules, (surely) I should be given one donkey: Like[wise], (as) oxen are apportioned in Tebet, I too should […] one ox! Two or three times within a month three to four [… are give]n to […]; [even … an ap]prentice [of the] second [exorc]ist [… g]ets[…and] enjoys [a she]ep […]; [But me], [what (compensation) do I re]ceive, for what pur[pose do I w]ork? IX

At the […] of the king I cannot look, no[r …] […] Day and night in front of the Lion’s pit, I beseech the king. [… which …] are not … with morsels […] my heart amidst my colleagues […]

----------------------------BREAK (3 lines) […] and among my brothers likewise […] -----------------------------



Towards an Image of the “Wise Man” in Akkadian Writings

93

[…] a medical potion, ointment[s …] […] aren’t ewes […] in this manner? […]

X

[I sent] a letter to the king my lord in the hand of Šarru-nūri the eunuch; but I (only) heaped up the grief of my heart, writing to the king, my lord.   The very same evening […] the king sent a letter to his servant,   [Saying “I did not k]now that you are having such a hard time;” and saying “(for) I […] did send for you.”   The word of the king, my lord, is as dif[ficult] as a mountain! Xa The letter I placed at the throne of Nabû with great trust. Like an only son I guarded it. (but) if my distress is in any way slackened, the king my lord should be very happy indeed. He should have remembered his servant, saying, “Let him receive my necklace while [I] am looking on.” There is another saying, too: “He who has been stabbed in the back has (still) got a mouth to speak; but he who has been stabbed in the mouth, how can he speak?” XI It is now two years since the two be[asts of mine] died; I have walked three times to Arbela and once to the city of Assur, (but) who has showed me any compassion by taking me by the hand or [leading me] into the presence of the king, my lord? Why did the king summon an exorcist from Ekallate, while I had to take the desert roads because of people asking me: “Why do you go on foot?” People pass my house, the mighty on palanquins, the assistants in carts, (even) the juniors on mules, and I have to walk! XII Perhaps the king will say: “He is a citizen (lit. son of the land).” The king can ask (anyone): My father portioned out six homers of field with his brother Nabû-zēru-līšir; I and my brother received three homers each, and in addition two souls! By the grace of the king, my lord, I have purchased five or six souls. XIII I have visited the Kidmuru temple and arranged a banquet, (yet) my wife has embarrassed me; for five years (she has been) neither dead nor alive, and I have no son. This year three women have fallen to me, but I have no farmer; I have no house, plow, or field.

94

Victor Avigdor Hurowitz

XIV By Anu, Enlil, and Ea who are firmly implanted in the head of the king, my lord, I (swear that) even a pair of sandals or the wages of a tailor I cannot afford, I have not got a change of clothes, Yet I have incurred a debt of almost six minas of silver, plus the interest! And at my age they say: “(when) you have reached old age, who is your hope (for support?).” XV [To the king], I am [n]ot acceptable; I go up to the palace, I am no good; [I inquired of] a prophet (but) anything [go]od I did not see; he was adverse and did not see much. [O king], my [lord] – seeing you is good; your attention is a fortune! May the kin[g’s … heart] be good – and may he at least send me the two beasts, […] … and a change of clothes! Guarding […] … for the period the king, my lord […] was crown prince. [The king my lord] knows me since his childhood; I have (always) said: “No […]    BREAK […] robbery] […] … who, with whom will the king brighte[n …] Who would see […] and gra[sp] his [… will] not lif[t …]

IV. Scribes, Sages, and Seers in Ugarit and Syria

Ignacio Márquez Rowe

Scribes, Sages, and Seers in Ugarit Where shall wisdom be found in ancient Ugarit? “Ugaritic has affected our understanding of the entire ancient Near East, from Mesopotamia to Egypt and from the Aegean to Arabia. But nowhere is the impact more profound than in Old Testament studies.” No Biblical scholar would disagree with Cyrus H. Gordon’s words of appreciation for the impact of the culture and language of Ugaritic on Biblical studies and the understanding of ancient Israel in the larger context of the ancient Near East. And no student of Ugaritology fails to realize that what made the Ugaritic poetic texts famous was the mythical and literary background they provided to the Hebrew Bible. This fact, possibly nothing else, lies behind the selection and inclusion of the present chapter in this fascinating volume. Was not the label “wisdom literature” coined and is it not mainly, if not exclusively, appropriate for certain biblical books? Indeed, it has been argued that it is something of a misnomer when applied to several corpora of texts from other ancient Near Eastern civilizations. Whether or not the accent of this last argument needs modification (what this volume precisely aims at answering), our most immediate concern is that, paradoxical though it may seem, we have no clear “Ugaritic connection” of Israelite wisdom comparable to, say, the Egyptian sebayit literature as exemplified by the well-known text of the Instruction of Amenemope. No Ugaritic book of Proverbs, Job, or Ecclesiastes, however fragmentary, has been unearthed thus far from the ruins of Ras Shamra, namely from its Late Bronze Age level (14th–12th centuries B. C. E.) whence the whole corpus of clay cuneiform tablets have emerged; neither do we have, for that matter, any dialogue composition produced by a sage from Ugarit about human misery, skepticism or pessimism, or poem directly dealing with life, mortality or whatever one wants to call the teaching to accept natural limits, such as the justly renowned Gilgamesh Epic. The

96

Ignacio Márquez Rowe

picture is at least as cloudy regarding “authors” or “founders” of a potentially lost wisdom literature. Ugarit does not seem to have had sages such as Solomon or the Mesopotamian god Ea to whom the wisdom of a tradition or part of it is assigned. And nothing like Lady Wisdom or the Lord of Wisdom (bl nmeqi) or even the Egyptian Ma‘at is attested among the venerated characters or personifications in this ancient Mediterranean literature. As to the wisdom lore in the oral world of everyday life, the only reference to a proverb or short fable mentioned in a letter sent to the king of Ugarit is ironically said to be of Hittite origin (Ugarit, it should be recalled, was then part of the Hittite empire).1 Of course, one may always claim that the documented history of Ugarit cannot compare to, that is, compete in duration, volume, and antiquity with those of Mesopotamia or Egypt; or also complain that the native alphabetic cuneiform script was invented, alas, “too late,” roughly a century before the end of the city and kingdom around 1180 B. C. E., 2 a collapse that brought about the death of the Ugaritic written tradition. This particular circumstance is possibly partly to be held responsible for the important fact we should here keep especially in mind that there are no duplicates of the famous Ugaritic poetic texts such as the Story of Aqhatu or the Myth of Baclu.3 But then, we should finally ask, paraphrasing the well-known biblical sentence (and the title of one of Harold Bloom’s recent works), where shall wisdom be found in ancient Ugarit? To begin with, and this is probably the best start to overcome the negative tone reached in the previous presentation, we have the word. To judge from the four literary attestations so far available, the concept behind the term “(to be) wise”, spelled in Ugaritic km and closely related to biblical Hebrew akam, was an attribute of the supreme god Ilu.4 In fact, someone else may be credited with wisdom, only if compared to him.5 The greybearded father of the gods made his important decisions without need to consult and that seemed to be the spirit of wisdom at least for the Ugaritic RS 20.216 (Ugaritica V N 35): 5–11. As recently stated by D. Pardee: il n’existe à present aucune preuve que l’écriture cunéiforme alphabétique ait été inventée avant l’époque de ‘Ammittamrou II (Le traité d’alliance RS 11.722+, Semitica 51 [2001], 24). 3  For these Ugaritic literary works, passages of which will be quoted in the following discussion, see the most recent English translations and studies by S. Parker/M. Smith in S. B. Parker (ed.), Ugaritic Narrative Poetry, Atlanta, GA 1997; D. Pardee in: W. Hallo (ed.), The Context of Scripture. Vol. I: Canonical Compositions from the Biblical World, Leiden/New York/Köln 1997; and N. Wyatt, Religious Texts from Ugarit. The Words of Ilimilku and his Colleagues, Sheffield 1998. 4  See M. Dietrich/O. Loretz: Die Weisheit des ugaritischen Gottes El im Kontext der alt­ orientalischen Weisheit, UF 24 (1992) 31–38. The attestations are KTU 1.3 v 30–31, 1.4 iv 41–43, 1.4 v 3–4, and 1.16 iv 2. 5  KTU 1.16 iv 2. 1  2 



Scribes, Sages, and Seers in Ugarit

97

author of the Myth of Baclu (KTU 1.1–1.6). “Your decisions, Ilu, are wise, / you are wise for eternity, / a life of good fortune is your decision.” So runs the hymn-like praise and flattery of the goddess cAnatu, later reproduced by Ilu’s wife Athiratu, introducing her contention that a palace for Baclu needs to be provided.6 Then there is Daniel, the righteous man and father of the tragic Ugaritic hero Aqhatu, who might possibly be the same Daniel of Ezekiel, the ancient gentile paragon of virtue alongside Noah and Job7 (14:14). “What? Are you wiser than Daniel? Is no secret too dark for you?” asks rhetorically the prophet to the arrogant king of Tyre (Ezek 28:3). Whether this idealized sage of old times, a paradigm of Israelite righteousness, indeed refers to the Ugaritic Daniel (and/or the uncle and father-in-law of the antediluvian Enoch mentioned in Jub 4:20) cannot be determined with certainty for the time being.8 But nothing in the preserved text of the Story of Aqhatu (KTU 1.17–1.19) speaks against Daniel being a wise man, especially as the latter is portrayed in the Hebrew Bible. He is shown sitting at both threshing-floor and city gate to dispense justice, namely caring for widows and orphans, a topos usually associated with virtuous royalty. And he is also associated with judicious teaching, however implicitly: does not his young son Aqhatu rebuff at once and on the spot ‘Anatu’s divine proposal of immortality in exchange for his precious bow? “Don’t deceive me, O Maid, / for to a hero your deceit is slime. / What after(life) can a man obtain? / What can a man obtain hereafter?” Aqhatu’s skeptical reply, that may remind us of the eloquence of Qoheleth, closes with the words: “I’ll die the death of every man, / Yes, I also must die.”9 Ironically, it is by

6  The plays on words and sounds of the Ugaritic text (KTU 1.3 v 30–31 and 1.4 iv 41–43) are unfortunately not available in the English translation: tmk il km / kmt ‘m ‘lm / yt t tmk (KTU 1.4 iv 41–43). 7  For Job as a figure too of an ancient Levantine tradition, see J. de Moor: Ugarit and the Origin of Job, in: G. Brooke/A. Curtis/J. Healey (eds.), Ugarit and the Bible. Proceedings of the International Symposium of Ugarit and the Bible, Manchester, September 1992, Münster 1994, 225–257, expanded now in his The Rise of Yahwism. The Roots of Israelite Monotheism, Leuven 21997, 131–162. 8  The differences of opinion on the identity of the Daniel (or Danel) of Ezekiel continue to increase; thus, some scholars such as H. Dressler and H.-M. Wahl consider it more likely that Danel refers to the hero of the Book of Daniel. See e. g. H. Dressler: The Identification of the Ugaritic Dnil with the Daniel of Ezekiel, VT 29 (1979), 152–161; J. Day: The Daniel of Ugarit and Ezekiel and the hero of the Book of Daniel, VT 30 (1980), 174–184; B. Margalit: Interpreting the Story of Aqht. A Reply to H. Dressler, VT 30 (1980), 361–365; O. Loretz: Ugarit und Bibel Kanaanäische Götter und die Religion im Alten Testament, Darmstadt, 1990, 91; H.-M. Wahl: Noah, Daniel und Hiob in Ezechiel XIV 1–20 (2–3): Anmerkungen zum traditionsgeschichtlichen Hintergrund,” VT 42 (1992) 542–553; J. de Moor: The Rise of Yahwism. The Roots of Israelite Monotheism, Leuven 21997, 149 f. 9  KTU 1.17 vi 34–38.

98

Ignacio Márquez Rowe

refusing to relinquish his bow to the goddess that he would prematurely lose his life. More explicit is Daniel’s well-known list of traditional filial duties, which we must presume Aqhatu had been duly taught, although his untimely death prevented him from carrying them out. Let us remember them: “to set up the stela of his father’s god, / in the sanctuary the votive symbol of his ancestor; / to send up from the earth his incense, / from the dust the song of his (holy) place; / to shut the jaws of his detractors / and drive away those who fool him; / to take him by the hand when he’s drunk / and bear him up when sated with wine; / to eat his portion in the temple of Ba‘lu, / his share in the temple of Ilu; / to plaster his roof when there’s mud, / and wash his garments when they are dirty.”10

Is not wisdom, we might consider, in the Hebrew Bible and other world literatures, precisely about life, not only in the sense of mortality but also in its facet of daily human experience? This is not the place to discuss the translation or interpretation of each of the filial responsibilities of a paterfamilias according to the Ugaritic author of the story.11 But it may be surprising and indeed paradoxical, at least for the Western modern reader, that an allegedly wise and righteous man like Daniel would presuppose his being sometimes inebriated in his old age. Whether or not his drunkenness is to be understood in the context of his participation in certain rites or symposia,12 what is of relevant interest here is that the same theme of the inebriated (old) father supported by his son(s) occurs in another Ugaritic tablet describing a banquet for the gods organized by Ilu (KTU 1.114) and in the Hebrew Bible (Gen 9:20–27). The fuddled father in the former text is significantly the wise divine host of the banquet itself, and in the latter, Noah, the worthy man who survived the flood.13 Despite the features and episodes referred to above, I would still hesitate to include the poem under the category of wisdom literature. Some passages, it is true, deal with human life and death as well as social customs,14 but it is also true that the socio-cultural horizon of the story can only be guessed, because of the unfortunately incomplete state of preservation of the text. Further, the general orientation may rather point to the epic KTU 1.17 i 26–33, i 43–52, ii 1–8, ii 17–23. For which see the recent studies mentioned in footnote 3 with previous literature. 12  Such as the marziu (see the opinions in N. Wyatt: Religious Texts from Ugarit, 258 n. 37). 13  See K. van der Toorn: Family Religion in Babylonia, Syria and Israel. Continuity and Change in Forms of Religious Life, Leiden/New York/Köln 1996, 154–155. 14  See e. g. S. Parker: Death and Devotion: The Composition and Theme of Aqht, in: J. H. Marks/R. M. Good (eds.), Love and Death in the Ancient Near East. Essays in Honor of Marvin H. Pope, Guilford, CN 1987, 71–83. 10  11 



Scribes, Sages, and Seers in Ugarit

99

theme of the desire for a son who will ensure the continuity of the (allegedly royal) lineage.15 As for Daniel, presented as the mournful childless father,16 we do not know whether he wore like Ilu a grey beard of wisdom, and although his Ugaritic name (to be presumably normalized Dānī’ilu) contains a reference to both Ilu and righteousness, nowhere in the preserved text of the poem is he compared to the wise god. As a matter of fact, the noun for “wise one” or “sage” is so far unattested in the Ugaritic corpus. This of course does not mean that there were no sages in Ugarit, say between the fourteenth and early twelfth centuries before our era. There probably was an oral wisdom (one should recall that Solomon’s wisdom as described in 1 Kgs 5:9–14 was not to be read but to be heard), and then there was written scholarship.

Educational wisdom texts in ancient Ugarit Any scholar who has read books and articles on wisdom literature in the Bible and the ancient Near East written since the 1960s, and more so after 1968 when the volume Ugaritica V appeared, may be struck by our statement that no Ugaritic text may be given such a label. For indeed some examples of cuneiform compositions consisting of sayings or admonitions came to light between the 22nd and 25th campaigns of excavations on the Syrian tell of Ras Shamra.17 The fact is, however, that although we know nothing or next to nothing about the authors of cuneiform literature, there is every reason to believe that the works in question, discovered in the ruins of Ugarit, were not composed by native sages. They are written in Akkadian, sometimes beside the Sumerian original text or the Hurrian translation, and all of them are clearly copies of Vorlagen of Mesopotamian origin. In describing the world around Mesopotamia, A. Leo Oppenheim wrote that “although they differ in essential respects, a number of attitudes are common to all these civilizations: they accepted the Mesopotamian system of writing (cuneiform signs on clay), and, to varying degrees, Mesopotamian language and literary tradition.”18 It is a well-known fact that high culture was Babylonian culture in the Near East of the second millennium, and also that Akkadian became the In consonance with the other Ugaritic epic of Kirta. In a sense, therefore, comparable to the sage Ah iqar. ˙ RS 22.439 by D. Smith and Wisdom by 17  See e. g. chapters VII and IX (Wisdom Genres in J. Khanjian respectively) in: L. Fisher (ed.), Ras Shamra Parallels 2, AnOr 50, Rome 1975. 18  Ancient Mesopotamia, Chicago 21977, 67–68. 15  16 

100

Ignacio Márquez Rowe

accepted language of international correspondence and diplomatic documents during the Late Bronze Age reaching as far off as Cyprus and Egypt. In Ugarit, therefore, like in any other political center of relative importance, the mastering of Mesopotamian cuneiform and Akkadian language was a requisite. This was more or less perfectly accomplished through the copying of texts by students. “Beginning with simple signs and sign groups, and progressing to more complex and difficult arrangements, the student had to copy and to learn by rote the pronunciation and the reading of a wide variety of sequences of such signs and combination of signs. A well-established curriculum apparently had to be followed not only with regard to the more elementary lists but also with regard to the study of literary works.”19 Ras Shamra has yielded a considerable number of educational texts, and it has been possible to reconstruct to a certain extent the curriculum students were expected to learn at Ugarit, particularly as regards the learning of lexical lists. 20 What can be termed the second phase of the elementary curriculum consisted in the rote memorization of thematic noun lists grouped in antiquity under the title AR-ra ubullu after its incipit. 21 This series known already in Mesopotamia in early Old Babylonian times was composed at Ugarit of some fifteen tablets (or chapters), containing several thousand Sumerian entries, some of them copied with their Akkadian translations and in one case with the Hurrian equivalents. The textbook included a catalogue of trees and wooden objects, reeds, domestic and wild animals, stones, plants, fish, birds, and foodstuffs. Perhaps there is an echo of this kind of encyclopedic knowledge in the celebrated description of the oral wisdom of Solomon (1 Kgs 5:1–14): “He spoke of trees, from the cedar in Lebanon to the hyssop that grows out of the wall; he spoke also of beasts and birds, reptiles and fish.”22 The study of Mesopotamian literary works, that is, the practice of the acquired knowledge of Akkadian and Sumerian languages in context, completed the scribal training. Among the works, as a rule no more than a tablet long, copied by Ugaritic students we may refer to wisdom texts Oppenheim, Ancient Mesopotamia, 243. See W. van Soldt: Babylonian Lexical, Religious and Literary Texts and Scribal Education at Ugarit and its Implications for the Alphabetic Literary Texts, in M. Dietrich/O. Loretz (eds.), Ugarit. Ein ostmediterranes Kulturzentrum im Alten Orient 1: Ugarit und seine altorientalische Umwelt, Münster 1995, 171–178. 21  For a general overview of the series, see A. Cavigneaux: Lexikalische Listen, Reallexikon der Assyriologie 6 (1980–83), 626–628, and M. Civil: Ancient Mesopotamian Lexicography, in: J. M. Sasson (ed.), Civilizations of the Ancient Near East, Vol. IV, New York 1995, 2311. And for the series at Ugarit, see van Soldt: Babylonian Lexical, Religious and Literary Texts, 198–204. 22  Despite the very scarce cuneiform material that has come to light from ancient Levantine sites such as Byblos, Kumidi, Megiddo, Tel Aphek, Hazor or Ashkelon, they all have yielded at least one exemplar of Mesopotamian elementary educational texts. 19 

20 



Scribes, Sages, and Seers in Ugarit

101

such as an Akkadian composition dealing with the topic of the Righteous Sufferer (RS 25.460), the Sumerian-Akkadian bilingual “Poem of Early Rulers,” previously known as part of a collection of “Counsels of Wisdom” (RS 23.34+, RS 25.130, RS 25.424), what appears to be an excerpt of Akkadian precepts with a Hurrian translation (RS 15.10), and the socalled “Admonitions of Šūpē-awīlim to His Son” written in Akkadian (RS 22.439). 23 “Hear the counsel of Šūpē-awīlim on whom Enlilbanda bestowed understanding, / the wise counsel of Šūpē-awīlim whom Enlilbanda endowed with wisdom.” These are the opening lines of the latter text. Although copies of it have only survived in the “periphery” of Mesopotamia (Ugarit, Emar and Boghazköy), the reference to Enlilbanda, one of the Sumerian nicknames of Ea, leaves no doubt about the ultimate Babylonian origin of the literary piece. 24 And the same holds true for the other Sumerian and Akkadian compositions (with or without a Hurrian version). As pointed out above, the teaching and adoption of Mesopotamian cuneiform implied the borrowing of an entire cultural tradition. It is therefore to this tradition and not to Ugaritic genius that these wisdom textbooks containing passages such as the following one are to be ultimately attributed: “The totality of life is like the twinkling of an eye. / Life onto which no light is shed, how can it be more valuable than death?”25

23  RS 25.460 was published by J. Nougayrol in Ugaritica V (no. 162). The manuscripts of the “Poem of Early Rulers” were also published by J. Nougayrol in Ugaritica V (as nos. 164–166), and recent studies with previous literature have been written by M. Dietrich: Ein Leben ohne Freude …” Studie über Weisheitskomposition aus den Gelehrtenbibliotheken von Emar und Ugarit, UF 24 (1992), 9–29, and J. Klein: ‘The Ballad About Early Rulers’ in Eastern and Western Traditions, in: K. van Lerberghe/G. Voet (eds.), Languages and Cultures in Contact at the Crossroads of Civilizations in the Syro-Mesopotamian Realm, OLA 96, Leuven 1999, 203–216. RS 15.10 was published by J. Nougayrol (the Akkadian text) and E. Laroche (the Hurrian text) in PRU 3, 311–324; W. Lambert re-examined the Akkadian text in his Babylonian Wisdom Literature, Oxford 1960, 116, and the Hurrian text has been dealt with by M. Dijkstra: The Akkado-Hurrian Bilingual Wisdom-Text RS 15.010 Reconsidered, UF 25 (1993), 163–171. RS 22.439 was also published by J. Nougayrol in Ugaritica V (no. 163), and also studied by M. Dietrich: Der Dialog zwischen Šūpē-amēli und seinem ‘Vater’. Die Tradition babylonischer Weisheitssprüche im Westen, UF 23 (1991), 33–68. Because fables are conventionally included under the category of “Wisdom Literature”, one should refer here to two fragmentary tablets, namely RS 25.526A written in Akkadian (so far unpublished) and RS 86.2210[A] with three columns (Sumerian, syllabic Sumerian, and Akkadian, the latter lost) published by D. Arnaud in RSOu 14 (no. 29). See now also D. Arnaud, Corpus des textes de bibliothèque de Ras Shamra-Ougarit (1936–2000) en sumérien, babylonien et assyrien, AuOrSup 23, Sabadell 2007, esp. ch. 5 «Textes sapientiaux». 24  This was already remarked by its editor J. Nougayrol who likewise pointed to the references of the town of Uruk and the goddess Ereshkigal in the same text (Ugaritica V, 277, fn. 3). 25  Poem of Early Rulers, RS 25.130:11'–14'.

102

Ignacio Márquez Rowe

Scribes, Seers, and Viziers in Ancient Ugarit No doubt students in ancient Ugarit were themselves well aware that their educational material was originally Babylonian, despite a possible Syro-Anatolian (Hurrian?) mediation of all or part of it. Significant in this regard is the fact that they even assumed the Babylonian, patron deities of the scribal art. At least six Ugaritic students (like some of their Emar colleagues)26 acknowledge in the colophons of their textbooks their patronage by Nabû and Nisaba, once beside Marduk and Sarpanītu the patron divine couple of the city of Babylon itself (the text is˙ precisely the copy of the “Admonitions of Šūpē-awīlim to His Son”). 27 The preserved, and so far published, colophons inscribed on tablets from Ugarit 28 are not like Yeshua ben Eleazar ben Sira’s postscript to his book of wisdom. The authorship mentioned at the end of cuneiform lexical tablets or literary compositions does not refer to the work proper but, as already pointed out, to the copy that was actually made as part of the pupil’s scribal training. Indeed, in about two thirds of the extant available Akkadian colophons of Babylonian textbooks, the apprentice scribe includes among his “titles” his being “disciple of PN” (kabzuzu [ša] PN). The fact that Ilimilku, 29 the scribe of Ugaritic literary texts such as the Story of Aqhatu or the Myth of Baclu, inscribed in three out of the five preserved colophons the name of his teacher in the equivalent Ugaritic formula lmidu PN (spelled lmd PN) seems therefore to imply that the written stories and myths are also to be understood as part of Ilimilku’s training.30 I cannot imagine that Ilimilku or any of the known scribes who copied at Ugarit Sumerian-Akkadian bilingual counsels of wisdom and Akkadian admonitions were themselves poets, let alone writers of wisdom like 26  See D. Arnaud, Textes de la bibliothèque. Transcriptions et traductions. Recherches au Pays d’Aštata, Emar VI.4, Paris 1987, 199–202. 27  J. Nougayrol understood the student’s self-designation “servant of Nabû and Nisaba” as a “title of glory,” although he wondered whether it might refer to some memory of a past stay in Babylonia proper (L’influence babylonienne à Ugarit. D’après les textes en cunéiformes classiques, Syria 39 [1962], 30–31). 28  For the colophons of Ras Shamra texts, see W. van Soldt: The Title t‘y, UF 20 (1988), 313–318. 29  Or Ilimalku; see W. van Soldt: The Vocalisation of the Word mlk, ‘King’, in Late Bronze Age Syllabic Texts from Syria and Palestine, in: M. Baasten/W. van Peursen (eds.), Hamlet on a Hill. Semitic and Greek Studies Presented to Professor T. Muraoka on the Occasion of his Sixty-Fifth Birthday, OLA 118, Leuven/Paris/Dudley, MASS, 2003, 449–471. 30  See, for example, W. van Soldt: Babylonian Lexical, Religious and Literary Texts, 186–189. J. de Moor, as for one, believes that Ilimilku was the author of the compositions (see his The Rise of Yahwism, 82 and passim, and cf. his earlier The Seasonal Pattern in the Ugaritic Myth of Ba‘lu [AOAT 16], Neukirchen-Vluyn 1971, 5). More recently and also cautiously, N. Wyatt has concluded that it is not clear whether he was his teacher’s amanuensis or a true poet (Religious Texts from Ugarit, 21).



Scribes, Sages, and Seers in Ugarit

103

Jesus Ben Sira. They simply were not “prompted to write something in the nature of instruction and wisdom,” to use the words of the Israelite sage’s grandson in his Greek prologos. But what is beyond any doubt is that Ilimilku and his colleagues devoted themselves for a long time to the study of both word-syllabic and alphabetic cuneiform scripts, 31 and that they practiced them with more or less accuracy learning the names of trees, beasts and birds, reptiles and fish, as well as writing down beautiful pieces of literature from both Mesopotamian and Ugaritic traditions. Moreover, some, if not all, of them became teachers, like Attēnu, the master of Ilimilku; and like Attēnu himself they could become seers (in Ugaritic, purulinnu),32 or also viziers of the king. When Šapšumalku, the notary who served three successive kings of Ugarit and has left us the largest number of royal deeds, wrote in the colophon to one of his documents in Akkadian that he was a “wise scribe” (uparru emqu), he was probably referring to his skill and proficiency in the scribal or notarial practice rather than to his personal wisdom or understanding. The adjective he added, perhaps in an outburst of pride (or humor), was not part of a professional title. There is no evidence whatsoever of a professional class of sages in ancient Ugarit. This isolated example, however, illustrates well that a certain kind of wisdom, the only one we are able to trace, is to be found among the professional class of scribes. It is also important to note that this kind of “sage” can only be found among men. No woman is known to have had access to the scribal office or, for that matter, any other office at Ugarit. I hasten to say that this does not mean that there were no “wise women” who could be influential, say, at court, advising the monarch in taking decisions.33 Oral wisdom, we should recall, was probably the rule in ancient oral societies (it would not surprise me, on the other hand, if some day a scholar inspired by the celebrated works of Samuel Butler or Harold Bloom would put forward the idea that the Ugaritic Myth of Baclu can be taken as the work of a female poet). 31  There is clear evidence that both scripts were learned by the same scribe at the same time; see e. g. W. van Soldt: Babylonian Lexical, Religious and Literary Texts, 183–184 and I. Márquez Rowe: Syllabic and Alphabetic Texts. A Further Note on Scribal Education at Ugarit, UF 28 (1996), 457–462; see the example RS 22.225 discussed below. For Ilimilku in particular, see A.-S. Dalix : Exemples de bilinguisme à Ougarit. Iloumilkou: la double identité d’un scribe, Mosaïque de langues, mosaïque culturelle, le bilinguisme dans le ProcheOrient ancien, Paris 1996, 81–90. 32  For the interpretation of Ugaritic purulinnu (Hurrian wurulinni), see W. van Soldt: ’Atn prln, ‘‘Attā/ ēnu the Divine, UF 21 (1989), 365–368 (the restoration of line 33 of the quadrilingual vocabulary RS 20.189A+B is now confirmed by the new exemplar of a trilingual vocabulary RS 94.2939 ii 10; see B. André-Salvini/M. Salvini: Un nouveau vocabulaire trilingue sumérien-akkadien-hourrite de Ras Shamra, SCCNH 9, 6, 22–23). 33  A possibly relevant and certainly interesting example is the royal deed RS 16.197. It is written in the name of the king of Ugarit but is actually sealed by the queen(-mother).

104

Ignacio Márquez Rowe

Training for chancellery work was no doubt one of the chief programs in scribal education.34 It is probable, although not provable, that apprentice-notaries became familiar with the characteristic formulas and layout of legal documents after their elementary instruction during a period of assistantship in the state bureaucracy. Once they would have achieved the necessary knowledge under the supervision of a master notary, the ruler himself would decide whom to grant access to his palace archives and state affairs. Indeed some of them would eventually become officials responsible to design and keep royal deeds, write letters addressed to the ruler’s overlords, allies and officials, and read aloud to the king their replies, most of them drawn up in a foreign language (Akkadian). A royal secretary would therefore not be a mere professional of writing and reading but would enjoy, as the term indicates, a position of trust and privacy with the king.35 It is more than possible that the king would make his decisions on the advice of such experts (and no doubt of others). The title “royal vizier” or simply “vizier” (written with the Sumerogram SUKKAL for Akkadian sukkallu) borne by some scribes or notaries may actually refer to this very function. It has been suggested that the Ugaritic word  c iyu (spelled  c y) is equivalent of the Akkadian title sukkallu.36 If this interpretation proves correct, the famous scribe Ilimilku would have been one of the professional counsellors of the king of Ugarit around 1200 B. C. E. Of interest too, the royal vizier Nucmerašpu may be the same Nucmerašpu who, as a student, copied the Babylonian Atra-hasis excerpt found at Ras Shamra.37 ˘ It is reasonable to argue that the training for temple or religious service would differ from the required specialized instruction of a secretary-tobe. A scribe who wished or was meant to become a diviner, for example, presumably had to go through a period of specialization as assistant of a professional seer, such as Attēnu (in Emar some scribes call themselves “assistant-diviners” in their colophons).38 In Ugarit, like elsewhere in premodern societies, divination was an area of wisdom for its raison-d’être was precisely the teaching of the unknown such as the outcome of one’s projects or the length of one’s life, all written down in the divine book of 34  A more detailed treatment is available in my book, The Royal Deeds of Ugarit, AOAT 335, Münster 2006. 35  The famous case of the forgery of the royal seal and royal deeds by a king’s notary speaks eloquently enough (RS 16.249, published by J. Nougayrol in Le palais royal d’Ugarit, Vol. III, 96–98). 36  See W. van Soldt: The Title t‘y, UF 20 (1988), 313–321, and idem: Babylonian Lexical, Religious and Literary Texts, 189 (which includes previous criticism). D. Pardee, for one, thinks rather that the ā‘iyu-official exercised what was basically a cultic function (The Context of Scripture Vol. I, 343 n. 103). 37  RS 22.421 published by J. Nougayrol in Ugaritica V (as no. 167). 38  Spelled with the Sumerogram Ì.ZU.TUR(.TUR) (see D. Arnaud: Textes de la bibliothèque, 199–202).



Scribes, Sages, and Seers in Ugarit

105

fate. Questions were answered by seers through the interpretation of signs sent by a supernatural agency such as odd events, natural phenomena, and the exta of sacrificial lambs. Prime educational texts of the art of divination were of Babylonian origin too. And students at Ugarit did practice copying some of the Akkadian books on hemerology (RS 25.141+454F, RS 25.440A), celestial divination (RS 23.38), birth omens (RS 7.01), and unusual acts of animals (RS 92.2018).39 Interestingly enough, they also wrote their own Ugaritic versions of Babylonian Vorlagen of the collections of birth and celestial omens (RS 24.247+ [KTU 1.103+1.145], 24.302 [KTU 1.140], RIH 78/14 [KTU 1.163]).40 That the examination of the exta, especially the liver, of the sacrificial lamb was an essential chapter of the training of the students of divination is shown by the numerous models of the liver beside one of the lung made of clay found at Ras Shamra, some of them bearing an inscription in Ugaritic related to the corresponding sacrifice or omen.41 Incantations, for instance against the evil eye or against snakes and scorpions,42 as well as other religious texts written both in Akkadian and Ugaritic, were also part of the specialized training for ritual service. Nevertheless, the argument of a different area of study, chancellery and religious, in the last stage of the career of a scribe, however reasonable it may be, should be abandoned if the suggested meaning of Ugaritic ā iyu as “vizier” or “counsellor” would prove correct.43 For according to the most complete version of his colophons, incidentally fully preserved on the alleged sixth tablet of the Myth of Ba‘lu, Ilimilku was an advanced student of Attēnu, a professional 39  See the general overview in W. van Soldt’s Babylonian Lexical, Religious and Literary Texts, 207–208. RS 25.141, RS 23.38 and RS 92.2018 are published by D. Arnaud (Jours et mois d’Ougarit, SMEA 32 [1993], 12–27, Pl. I, idem: L’édition ougaritienne de la série astrologique ‘Eclipses du dieu-Soleil’, Semitica 45 [1996], 7–18, and idem: RSOu 14 no. 30, respectively). 40  Note that the tablet inscribed with Ugaritic lunar omens was found in Ras Ibn Hani, a residence town of the kings of Ugarit some 4.5 km from the capital. For the texts in question, see the thorough treatment by D. Pardee in his Les texts rituels (RSOu 12, Paris 2000), chapters 35, 60 and 79 respectively. An English translation can also be found in his Ritual and Cult at Ugarit (Leiden/Boston/Köln 2002), 134–144. 41  The inscribed liver models are RS 24.312 (KTU 1.141), RS 24.323 (KTU 1.142), RS 24.326 (KTU 1.143), RS 24.327 (KTU 1.144), RS 24.654 (KTU 1.155), and the inscribed lung model is RS 24.277 (KTU 1.127). See the last treatment in Pardee’s Les texts rituals, chapters 61–64 and 51 respectively; an English translation can also be found in his Ritual and Cult at Ugarit, 128–131. 42  See respectively the Ugaritic texts RS 22.225 (KTU 1.96) and RS 92.2014 (published by P. Bordreuil and D. Pardee in RSOu 14, no. 52). That the incantation against the evil eye (KTU 1.96) is a school text is evidenced by the reverse of the same tablet in which the scribe wrote the most elementary exercise in the Mesopotamian curriculum. 43  G. del Olmo Lete, however, like D. Pardee (cf. Fn. 36 above), preferred to understand it as a cultic professional (see his Ug. t‘, t‘y, t‘t: nombre divino y acción cultual, UF 20 [1988], pp. 31–33).

106

Ignacio Márquez Rowe

diviner (purulinnu) who also was chief priest (rabbu kāhinīma) and chief of the cultic herdsmen (rabbu nāqidīma).44 It is true that all extant Ugaritic tablets signed by Ilimilku are inscribed with religious literature. And also that over half of the literary texts and about a fourth of all the religious texts excavated at Ras Shamra come from the library of the chief priest (possibly Attēnu) on the acropolis in the proximity of the two temples. But it is no less true that this library as well as the so-called “house of the Hurrian Priest” on the southern slope of the acropolis that has yielded more than a third of all religious texts from Ugarit, including the Ugaritic divinatory texts and the clay liver and lung models, also contained records of state administration or diplomatic correspondence.45

Educational Institutions in Ancient Ugarit Although we have no account, however vague, of the nature of educational institutions at Ugarit46 and the word for “school” is so far unattested in the corpus of Ras Shamra texts, we do know that there were schools in this ancient Mediterranean city during the Late Bronze Age period. As discussed above, school exercises and textbooks have been found in their archaeological context.47 The concentrations and places of discovery of this pedagogical material conspicuously show that, paradoxically enough, there was no centre of learning either in the royal palace, namely the main centre of administration of the kingdom, or in the two large temples on the acropolis (the so-called temples of Ba‘al and Dagan). Schools at Ugarit 44  Provided of course the two last titles are to be attributed to Ilimilku’s teacher Attēnu, the more probable interpretation (note that if the titles were to be rather attributed to Ilimilku, as suggested by M. Dietrich/O. Loretz: Ämter und Titel des Schreibers Ilmlk von Ugarit, UF 12 [1980], 387–389, or G. del Olmo Lete: Ug. t‘, t‘y, t‘t, 31–32, the counter-argument would obviously be even more convincing). We follow D. Pardee’s translation of the two titles in The Context of Scripture, Vol. I, 273. 45  The catalogue, genre, and place of discovery of texts as well as their absolute and relative amounts are taken from the monumental work of W. van Soldt: Studies in the Akkadian of Ugarit. Dating and Grammar, AOAT 40, Neukirchen-Vluyn 1991, namely its Part I. A summary of the contents and analysis of the accumulations of tablets discovered in the different houses of Ras Shamra can be found in his Private Archives at Ugarit, in: A. C. V. M. Bongenaar (ed.), Interdependency of Institutions and Private Entrepreneurs (MOS Studies 2, Proceedings of the Second MOS Symposium, Leiden 1988, Leiden 2000, 229–245. 46  RS 17.10 and RS 17.80 (published by J. Nougayrol in Ugaritica V, as nos. 15A and 15B) preserve respectively in Sumerian and Akkadian part of a literary letter belonging to the well-known group of Mesopotamian texts describing daily school activities. The Mesopotamian Old Babylonian setting of the picture obviously makes the texts irrelevant for the present study. 47  The following description is based on the thorough studies of W. van Soldt: Babylonian Lexical, Religious and Literary Texts, 178–182, and Private Archives at Ugarit.



Scribes, Sages, and Seers in Ugarit

107

were not operated, like today, in a large building exclusively devoted to teaching. The remains of school activity seem rather to belong in a familial milieu. Indeed, the seven important accumulations of didactic or academic texts discovered so far at Ras Shamra come from rooms or sections of private buildings in the city. Some of them, it is true, are near the “great organizations;” so, for example, the houses of Rapanu, Rašapabu or the “Lettré” located in the residential area to the east of the royal palace, or the above mentioned house of the chief priest on the acropolis between the two temples.48 The fact is that the owners of these houses, whether apparently more oriented to priestly or courtly functions, must have performed some administrative functions, and a number of them, if not all, held important positions in the state bureaucracy. This is explicitly shown, as pointed out above, by the administrative records and state letters found in their “libraries” beside the school material. Some of these scribes, notaries, and priests would then probably enter the palace, however regularly, to read messages to the king received, say, from neighboring countries and write down the possible replies, and would also be responsible for the record of royal business affairs and administration. The royal palace as the largest administrative machine of the kingdom certainly required, and employed, a constant flow of individuals technically trained and able to read and write in order to keep it working. Like other crafts, the knowledge of scribes was often transmitted within the family. We know that notaries such as Iltahmu or Munahhimu took ˙ his father, ˙also ˙ a royal over their father’s office, the former becoming, like vizier. Thanks to the preserved colophons of school texts, we also know that the family of Nu‘merašpu was a family of scribes. Although it is very likely that scribal education was conducted or at least controlled from the palace, professional scribes, notaries, and priests could also work for people other than the king. The same Iltahmu and Munahhimu, for example, ˙ ˙ recorded transactions that did not directly involve the ˙palace. And a priest wrote down an incantation against snakes and scorpions for Urtenu, a royal official in the last years of Ugarit whose house served as a school.

Conclusion “You are a wise man (amīlu emqu), and the king knows this. It is because of your wisdom (em〈qū〉tu) that the king has sent you as commissioner.” This passage belongs to one of the many messages sent by Rib-Hadda 48  The house of the Hurrian priest, also mentioned above, is also not far from the temples. The other two houses are the so-called “Tablet-House” and the recently excavated house of Urtenu. A reference or two in some of the texts provide sometimes a clue as to the potential identity of the owner of these buildings, which at any rate remains tentative.

108

Ignacio Márquez Rowe

of Byblos to Akhetaten, modern el-Amarna, the capital of the Egyptian kingdom around the middle of the 14th century. The addressee this time was not Rib-Hadda’s ultimate overlord, i. e. the pharaoh himself, but Haya, ˘ the Egyptian vizier. What interests us here, in our attempt to conclude who was the wise man in ancient Ugarit, is that the same spirit of wisdom expressed by the author of the Myth of Ba‘lu discussed above is reflected in this letter sent by the ruler of Byblos, the contemporary neighbouring and rival port of Ugarit in the Eastern Mediterranean coast. Indeed, like the wisdom of Ilu, the father of the gods, Haya’s skill is defined here as ˘ the ability to make important (political) decisions certainly without need to consult. It may therefore be submitted that wisdom in Ugarit was not necessarily a male affair, neither a bookish affair. Women like men could make decisions and give advice and the same holds true for illiterate people. Can not Nature, rather than study, be the sweet source of lore, as sung by William Wordsworth? “Books! ’tis a dull and endless strife: /Come, hear the woodland linnet, /How sweet his music! on my life, /There’s more of wisdom in it.” The fact, however, is that our cuneiform prosaic examples come from royal courts and seem to speak differently. Haya was ˘ write the pharao’s vizier, and it is more than likely that he could read and (at least Egyptian). And the only attestation we have of the adjective “wise, expert” in a cuneiform document from Ras Shamra (viz. Akkadian emqu) is used by a royal scribe to qualify himself. Clearly Šapšumalku, and his colleagues before and after him in Ugarit, were proud of their knowledge. If confronted with the well-known Sumerian riddle “a house where one goes in blind and comes out seeing” they would have immediately recognised the place where they spent their early years reading, reciting and writing from elementary exercises to literary works in Sumerian and especially in Akkadian, and around 1200 B. C. also in Ugaritic. Some of them would become counsellors of the king and would regularly come and go in the royal palace. As viziers they would be consulted for political advice, and as diviners they would be able to read the secrets of the universe.

Ingo Kottsieper

The Aramaic Tradition: Ahikar Introduction The story of Ahikar, who is said to have served at the courts of Sennacherib and then Esarhaddon, and the sayings connected with his name were well known in the Ancient Mediterranean World. Thus the apocryphal book of Tobit refers at several places to his fate (1.21–22, 2.10, 11.19, 14.10), and a Neo-Babylonian list of Assyrian kings and their sages added to the reference to Aba-enlil-dari, incorrectly named the umânnu of Asarhaddon,1 that the Aramaeans call him Ahuqar. 2 But the oldest source is the cache of fragments of an Aramaic scroll˘including both the story and the proverbs, which was found in 1906/07 at Elephantine. The scroll of Ahiqar was first published by Sachau: Papyrus, 147–182 + pl. 40–50,3 but the text is often cited according to the edition of Cowley: Papyri.4 The most recent edition is found in Porten and Yardeni (= TAD).5 The proverbs were also edited by Kottsieper: Sprache, 9–24, and an annotated translation including the story is found in Kottsieper: Geschichte.6 1  S. Parpola: Letters from Assyrian Scholars to the King Esarhaddon and Assurbanipal 2, AOAT 5/2, Kevelaer/Neukirchen-Vluyn 1983, 450. 2  UVB 18, 45, 1–20, cf. I. Kottsieper: Die literarische Aufnahme assyrischer Begebenheiten in frühen aramäischen Texten, in: D. Charpin/F. Joannès (eds.), La circulation des biens, des personnes et des idées dans le Proche-Orient ancient, Actes de la XXXVIIIe Recontre Assyriologique Internationale Paris 10 juillet 1991, Paris 1992, 896–897. The story also influenced the Vita Aesopi and traces are found in Demotic literature. Also Clement from Alexandria refers to a tradition that Democritus used ethical sayings of Ακικαρος found on a stela in Babylonia (Stromateis I xv 69,4). The Ahikar tradition was preserved also in the Eastern churches and in the Arabian literature; cf. for bibliographic references L. DiTommaso: A Bibliography of Pseudepigrapha Research 1850–1999, JSPS 39, Sheffield 2001, 225–227; H. Niehr: Die Weisheit des Achikar und der musar lammebin im Vergleich, in: C. Hempel/A. Lange/H. Lichtenberger (eds.), The Wisdom Texts from Qumran and the Development of Sapiential Thought, BETL 159, Leuven 2002, 176–177; R. Contini/C.Grottanelli (eds.): Il saggio Ahiqar, Studi biblici 148, Brescia 2005. 3  E. Sauchau: Aramäische Papyrus und Ostraka aus einer jüdischen Militär-Kolonie zu Elephantine, Leipzig 1911. 4  A. Cowley: Aramaic Papyri of the Fifth Century B. C., Oxford 1923. 5  B. Porten/A. Yardeni: Textbook of Aramaic Documents from Ancient Egypt I–IV, Jerusalem 1986–1999 (= TAD). 6  For further editions and translations cf. DiTommaso: Bibliography, 221–222; Kott­ sieper: Die Sprache der Ah iqarsprüche, BZAW 194, Berlin/New York 1990, 289–291; idem: ˙

110

Ingo Kottsieper

One main difference between the several editions is the supposed sequence of the columns. Porten/Yardeni proposed in TAD a new order mainly by the help of the traces of an earlier account list (C3.7), which was written first on the papyrus. Though their readings are ingenious, they still are often uncertain or ambiguous7 and leave the possibility that, before eliminating the original text, the papyrus may have been split into smaller sections, which would have been more easily washed off, and afterwards joined together again in a new order.8 I made a different attempt, which only takes the material conditions of the papyrus into account and is based on observations about the height of the fragments and the sequence and frequency of cracks, holes, and other types of damage. Following this method, which was used not only by Porten/Yardeni in TAD9 on other papyri from Elephantine, but also with great success by H. Stegemann and his pupils for reconstructing the sequence of the fragments of texts from Qumran,10 a different order may be established. The main difference is that the story obviously was not originally narrated before the proverbs, but rather forms a frame, as it is also found in the later traditions. This is shown by the fact that the fragments of the two first columns have a Die Geschichte und die Sprüche des weisen Achiqar, in: O. Kaiser (ed.), Texte aus der Umwelt des Alten Testaments III/2, Gütersloh 1991, 324. The new edition of P. Grelot is mainly based on TAD (Les proverbes d’Ahîqar, RB 108 [2001], 511–528). The translation of H. Niehr: Aramäischer Ah iqar, JSHRZ.NF 2,2, Gütersloh 2007, also mainly follows TAD. 7  ˙ Thus, e. g., their assumption that C3.7 BR belongs to the list of “year 11” – although BV shows a different text! – is only based on their interpretation of BR 1,6 as reading “year 11”. But after the number there are more traces of signs, which they do not take in account and which allow also a reading of a higher number. 8  Especially some observations on C3.7 GV argue for this assumption. Thus immediately left after the left joint a clear kn is written, which differs from the surrounding text not only by the fact that it is very well preserved but also by the fact that it does not fit well into the lines of the column which were written on the sheet before. And on the bottom of this sheet a line is found written upside down with a completely different text. If one assumes that the original scroll reconstructed by Porten and Yardeni was never split up, one hardly could explain why the kn was not washed off in the same way as the rest and why a different scribe wrote a small note just in the middle (!) of a scroll. But probably this note was written when the scribe had smaller parts of the scroll on his desk and could use them for notes. And only after cleaning these notes away sloppily, he joined them again to a new scroll. This also explains why obviously the upper and lower margins were trimmed again. Finally, even Porten/ Yardeni admit that at least two fragments are added which originate from a different account list (their column 13 and 14). Thus even their reconstruction is based on the assumption that the scroll was rejoined from parts of several lists used by the writer to create his new scroll. 9  Cf. also B. Porten: A New Look. Aramaic Papyri and Parchments, BibAr 42 (1979), 74–104. 10  A. Steudel: Assembling and Reconstructing Manuscripts, in: P. Flint/J. Vanderkam, The Dead Sea Scrolls after Fifty Years I, Leiden/Boston/Köln 1998, 516–534; cf. Kottsieper: Sprache, 3. Thus, the statement of Niehr (Ah iqar, 5) is simply wrong that my reconstruction of the sequence of the column is influenced ˙by the later Ahikar tradition.



The Aramaic Tradition: Ahikar

111

smaller height than the others.11 And the fragments of the later parts of the story depict a very close sequence of foldings which is missing in the first two. Thus they belong to the most inner part of the scroll, but the first two to its beginning.12 An analysis of the language of the text from Elephantine clearly shows that the proverbs, which do not mention Ahikar, are written in a different Aramaic dialect than the story. The latter belongs to the well known Imperial Aramaic, but the language of the proverbs indicates that they obviously were written in an earlier dialect best dated around 700 B. C. E. if not earlier. This dialect was used most probably in South Syria.13 The conclusion that the proverbs originated in South Syria is corroborated by the fact that they depict an environment that is typical for this area but not for Mesopotamia.14 Thus the so-called “proverbs” of Ahikar represent a collection of genuine Aramaic wisdom sayings, which were common among the Aramaeans of South Syria during the 8th century B. C. E. Consequently, they should be analysed apart from the later story of Ahikar to which they only secondarily were connected.

The Sayings The Social Background of the Sayings. Most of the admonitions address free men, who are adult and occupy a social position that allows them not only children15 but also servants (IX 5 [83/178]). In addition they own 11  Their height is 28,6 cm (cf. note 44) and 27,9 cm which differs significantly from the height of the later fragments of the story (31,1 cm – 31,2 cm). That the outer parts of a scroll suffer more damages at the top and bottom is quite normal. 12  To facilitate the numbering of the cited texts, their locations will be given first with the column and line number according to my sequence. The line number assigned by Cowley, Papyri, and, if different, the line number in TAD follow in brackets. For example, VII 3 (161/97) means l. 3 in my column VII = l. 161 in the edition of Cowley, and l. 97 in TAD, but V 1 (126) means that l. 1 of my column V is counted as l. 126 both by Cowley and TAD. 13  That the proverbs are written in a West-Aramaic dialect different from the one used in the story was shown by J. Greenfield: Dialect Traits in Early Aramaic, Leš 27/28 (1967–1968), 364–365. J. Lindenberger: The Aramaic Proverbs of Ahiqar, Baltimore/London 1983, 279–304, came to the conclusion that the dialect is older than the Imperial Aramaic and was used in Syria. But his conclusions are based on his new edition, which is not very reliable, and on some interpretations, which have to be rejected. The localization and dating of the proverbs adapted here are based on my edition and examination of their language in Kottsieper: Sprache, esp. 241–246. For a refutation of the counterargument that the Proverbs would have a plural form in the status determinatus ending with [ē] and thus demonstrate an influence from eastern Aramaic (K. Beyer: Recension of Kottsieper: Sprache, ThLZ 116 [1991] 733, referred to again by Niehr: Ah iqar, 14); see already Kottsieper: Sprache, 118–121. 14  ˙ I. Kottsieper: Die alttestamentliche Weisheit im Licht aramäischer Weisheitstraditionen, in: B. Janowski (ed.), Weisheit außerhalb der kanonischen Weisheitsschriften, VWGTh 10, Gütersloh 1996, 132–137. 15  V 2, 4 (127, 129); IX 3 (81/176).

112

Ingo Kottsieper

weapons, including a bow (V 1, 3 [126, 128]). Their economic situation is typical for free members of a rural society in which one could easily procure wealth through a bountiful harvest, but also could lose it again by a bad year. Thus V 2 (127) advises to harvest not only the crops, which could easily be gathered, but also those not so easily reaped, and to perform every type of work during times of need to support one’s family. This implies that the addressees not only may own fields, but also had the possibility to engage in labor for hire.16 The economic situation of the addressees is also shown by V 4–6 (129–131), where both, the danger of borrowing and the advantages of giving out loans, are mentioned. Thus the situation of the addressees could be both, needing loans and being able to give them out. That the addressees belong to the “middle class” is illustrated by admonitions against desiring sizeable possessions, which are beyond their reach, or power (V 11–12 [136–137]) in political and social arenas, or against quarrelling with those who are higher in rank or more powerful (VI 1–3 [142–144]). But the proverbs mentioned also those, who occupy a lower rank (VI 4 [145]), though they may obtain wealth or influence (XII 4 [114/162]). But it may be taken as typical for a conservative middle-class ideology that such social climbers are disliked.17 While a sojourner (twtb) occupies a social class that possesses no intrinsic value (XII 2 [112/160]), a rich person deeming himself resplendent due to his wealth is likewise rejected (XV 16 [117/206]). 16  Such wage work is also mentioned in VII 5–6 (163–164/99–100), which states that a good man will not be an employer for a bad man (wb‘l ’gr l’ yhwh lh) or will join him “as [his servant]” ([l’] ylwh˚ ‘mh b[‘bdh]). Though the last word is only a conjecture, the context makes it clear that there was wage work done by free men. That the addressees can be placed under a master (mr’) is shown by the admonition XV 2–3 (192–193/191–192). Since the text uses mr’ and not b‘l, this admonition addresses one who is carrying out the orders of another person without being necessarily owned by his master. 17  Thus XII 4 (114/162) states that the descent of such a man will be discernible through his (underclass) language that will wreck him. The interpretation that the end expresses the idea that “the opening of his mouth is an utterance | of god[s] (m‘n˚ h|’lh[n])” (thus TAD, cf. Grelot, Proverbes, 524) is impossible. Although a restoration of the third letter of the last word in l. 4 with a nun cannot completely be ruled out, it is the less likely possibility due to the fact that a nun would be a little too small and the trace does not fit it well. Only a samekh fit well both the trace and the width of the gap. And surely the first word of the next line cannot be connected with this saying, because it would have been written in l. 4 where still enough place had been. The fact that the writer breaks the line after m‘s˚ h clearly shows that this was the last word of the saying (cf. I. Kottsieper: Zu graphischen Abschnittsmarkierungen in nordwestsemitischen Texten, in: M. Korpel/J. Oesch (eds.), Unit Delimitation in Biblical Hebrew and Northwest Semitic Literature, Pericope IV, Assen 2003, 150–152). Since m‘s means “to knock down, crush, pollute” (cf. Syriac and Arabic), one should take msrsrn as a qatalta/āl from msr that in Syriac also means “to accuse, denounce”. Also XVI 10 (151/216) probably stresses that a free born man is recognized by his birth and not by something different. While the damaged papyrus does not allow us to know what this different thing was, one may assume that this saying intended to say that, even if a free born man may be poor or a servant, he continues to be a free born.



The Aramaic Tradition: Ahikar

113

Family Wisdom. Although it seems obvious that many sayings reflect the ideology of a conservative middle class, the question arises concerning the social group that transmitted these sayings. Since there is no hint of a school, we have to look for different settings. Some admonitions are directed to the “son” (V 2, 4 [127, 129]; IX 4 [82/177]; X 2 [96/80]). The first two instances address a “son” who himself has children. And the third one occurs in a context of admonitions about educating and disciplining one’s own children and servants. Thus, the easiest solution is to see the family or kin as the primary environment in which those sayings were handed down. This assumption is corroborated by another observation. Some sayings and admonitions face the fact that wrong behavior also affects the reputation and social position of the entire family. Thus IX 6–7 (84–85/179–180) argues that the reputation of a person’s father and progeny is affected by this person’s levity or wantonness.18 Whoever does not praise himself because of the name of his parents is a bad man, one on whom Shamash should not shine (V 13 [138]). This is followed in ll.  14–15 (139–140) by the complaints of a man whose own children spoke ill about him and his family in public or a court. Thus he lost his reputation that would have enabled him to argue with others. Those sayings, which also surely focus on adult sons, reveal a strong interest in a behavior which would not only affect one’s own reputation but also that of his family. Erudite Wisdom. Although some sayings reflect a wisdom tradition used and handed down primarily within the social matrix of the family, they are found, nevertheless, in a wisdom collection, which shows the influence of a more elaborate wisdom tradition. Even the fact that we deal with a large written collection shows that they were used by people who could write. Undoubtedly these editors did not only collect the sayings and admonitions originating from family traditions, but they added some proverbs which reflect more generally about the world. Further, the intellectual background of these individuals is illustrated by the fact that they also pondered about wisdom itself and its global value. Thus IX 16 (94/189) teaches that wisdom was given to humankind from heaven by a gracious act of the gods. And X 1 (95/79) adds that wisdom also is honored by the gods themselves and that she was exalted by the chief god and placed in heaven so he shares his reign with her. On the contrary, VII 4 (162/98) probably discusses the fact that humankind often goes astray.19 Those sayings do not deal with a person’s life in the realm of middle-class society, but 18  bšrwt˚h˚. The interpretation of šrw as “bad smell, foulness” (cf. J. Hoftijzer/K. Jongeling: Dictionary of the North-West Semitic Inscriptions, HdO I/XXI 2, Leiden/New York/ Köln 1995, 1192) is ruled out by the fact that this should be written with a samekh, cf. Hebrew sr. 19  The reason is that there was rage against them – obviously the rage of the gods – and thus their heart was led astray.

114

Ingo Kottsieper

rather they discuss the anthropological question concerning how humanity came to possess wisdom and why then human beings often act foolishly. In line with this broader intellectual interest are also sayings about the possibility of people to act freely20 and about the problem of evil. 21 In addition, some observations on animals are included and interpreted anthropologically. 22 And like the many stars, which nobody knows by name, are the people unknown to a single person (XII 6 [116/164]). Also an elaborated form of fables is found in which one animal or plant makes a false accusation against or proposal to another one that is rejected. 23 But those editors who collected the sayings sometimes also interpreted them. There are three ways in which this is done: (1) The first one is to add a saying or proverb as an interpretative or explanatory statement introduced by ky. The most obvious instances are two fables that are expanded by proverbs. 24 Such additions may also serve to provide a rationale for the admonitions. 25 Thus, human beings are not able to take a single step without the gods (XII 12 [122/170]). The evil coming from their mouth is answered by evil acts of the gods against them (XII 14 [124/172]); a discussion follows as to what it means when the eyes of the gods are on a person, but the end of this saying is destroyed. Cf. also V 10 (135) where probably it is denied that the evil comes from the gods. 22  Thus IX 1–11, 13 (85–89, 91/180–184, 186) describe the behavior of a scorpion, lions, a donkey and birds. At least the saying about the lions concludes that this it was what happens to them – and likewise to humans (l. 11). The ends of the sayings about the scorpion in l. 8, and the donkey, and the birds in l. 13 are destroyed, but perhaps a comparable conclusion was originally present at least at the end of the saying about the scorpion where there is enough space. 23  VII 7–8 (165–166/101–102); XII 8–11 [13] (118–121 [123]/166–169 [171]); XV 13–14 (204– 205/203-204); XVI 3–4 (210-211/209–210); cf. Kottsieper: Weisheit, 145–147. 24  Thus XII 8–9 (118–119/166–167) tells in a quite humorous way the story of a leopard that met a “naked” (= shorn) goat and offers to cover her with his own coat (mšk). According to the form of such fables (cf. Kottsieper: Weisheit, 145) this false offer, which of course would mean that the leopard would eat the goat, is rejected, for the goat does not want to lose even it’s skin (gld). However, an additional proverb introduced by ky is added which surely does not belong to the goat’s speech, but rather illustrates the leopard’s real intention: “For a [leopard doe]s not greet a gazelle (!) except for sucking her blood” (l. 9–10). The second instance of this type of explanatory addition is found with the fable following directly the first one. It tells about a bear who attacked (’zl ‘l) lambs, but then invites them to come to him and he would be quiet. And the lambs also debunk this falsehood: “Take for yourself what you t[a]ke from us. We …” (l. 10–11). Obviously, the missing end would have expressed the idea that they were given into his hands. It is natural that lambs attacked by a bear have no choice to decide if they would approach him or not. This fable is completed by a saying expressing that it is not in the hand of humans (!) to take a single step out of their own power apart from the gods (l. 12). Obviously this is an anthropological interpretation of the fable’s meaning. It would be nonsensical and against nature, if a bear who attacked lambs would leave it up to them to come to him. Likewise, there is no choice to act against either the will and plan of the gods or against nature. 25  This is found at least in X 3–4 (98–99/82–83) where after two admonitions about being careful about what to say there follows an explanatory statement which – without the 20  21 



The Aramaic Tradition: Ahikar

115

  (2) The second way is to add a short gloss – with or without a ky – which is not a saying by its own. 26 It may be supposed that these glosses were added by a different scholar. This is corroborated by the fact that, after the proverb added to the fable in XII 10–12 (120–123/168–171), 27 another ky-sentence is inserted, taking over the proposition of the added proverb but applying it as a part of the lamb’s speech: “For it is not in your hands to lift your foot to put it down.”28   (3) But most interesting is the existence of a real commentary added to a saying, but separated from it by the dividing archaic alef which is used to mark the end of a saying, if the next one starts on the same line. 29 Thus IX 14–15a (92–93/187–188) contains a poetic entity stating that there are three things liked by Shamash: a person who pours wine out as a libation 30 when drinking it, a person who collects wisdom and keeps it, and a person who does not speak about what he has heard. The following commentary (ll.  15b–16a) puts these three things together in a sequence: “Look, this is precious [befo]re Shamash, but who drinks wine without [libating], his wisdom will decease and [he will] declare what he has seen.”31 The fact that this entity is on the one hand divided from the foregoing, but, on the other, points back to it makes it clear that it is formulated as a separate entity taking up the preceding one. Although it takes up every detail from the preceding one, it does not stick to its poetic formulation, but obviously wants to explain how these three things liked by Shamash relate.

Thus the so called “Proverbs of Ahikar” are not only a collection of sayings but also provide evidence of scholarly work. Those who comprised introducing ky – is obviously a proverb in its own right. Two further instances are probably V 7 (132) and VIII 5–6 (177–178/113–114). For the interpretation of VIII 5, cf. Kottsieper: Sprache, § 54. 26  Thus the saying that the sun should not shine for a man who does not extol himself because of his parents is concluded with the note “for he is a bad man” (V 13 [138]). Obviously, this gloss was added to explain the intended meaning of the figurative “the sun (god) should not shine for him”. And in XII 4 (114/162) the saying about the social climber whose descent is discernible by his words (mlwhy) is followed by the gloss “for the opening of his mouth wrecks him” (cf. note 17 for this interpretation), which is comparable to the proverb used as a commentary in VIII 5–6 (177–178/113–114). A gloss without the introductory ky is found in VII 5–6 (163–164/99–100) where the saying is about a good man who declines to be an employer or a servant of a man whose wickedness he knows. The superfluous expression “a good man with a [ba]d m[an]” is added, obviously explaining the complicated expression, “When a good man see[s] a man’s wick[edness],” meaning that a good man declines to cooperate with one who is evil. 27  Cf. the second example in note 24. 28  Probably a later scholar (mis)understood the added proverb about the lambs and added his own gloss to clarify that the lambs did mean by citing the proverb that also the mighty bear is not capable of acting out of free will. Also the observation that the gloss in XII 4 (114/162) echoes the proverb cited in VIII 5–6 (177–178/113–114) (cf. note 26) may be explained by the assumption that the scholar did know it’s use as an explanation. 29  Cf. Kottsieper: Abschnittsmarkierungen, 151, 154. 30  Cf. I. Kottsieper: El – ferner oder naher Gott? Zur Bedeutung einer semitischen Gottheit in verschiedenen sozialen Kontexten im 1. Jt. v. Chr., in: R. Albertz (ed.), Religion und Gesellschaft. Studien zu ihrer Wechselbeziehung in den Kulturen des Antiken Vorderen Orients, AOAT 248, Münster 1997, 34. 31  Cf. Kottsieper: Sprache, § 120.

116

Ingo Kottsieper

the collection took over sayings originating from the family wisdom of the middle class and added to them not only some of their own, which reveal a broader intellectual interest, but also occasionally commented on and expanded them. The social background of the collectors. But one may say a little more about the specific background of those scribes. X 6–10a (104a/84–88a) contains mainly a collection of admonitions pertaining to how to act in the service of a king. But not only by this theme does this section differ from the other admonitions, where the king’s court is never mentioned, but also by the fact that they appear in four units, which tend to be composed of several parts and together show a chiastic structure. 32 Thus, this part of the collection forms a section of its own teaching on how to act as a servant of the king. Obviously it does not belong to the family wisdom from which it differs not only by its subject but also by its elaborated form. This section shows that the service at the king’s court was one realm in which educated people were involved, like those who partially composed the sayings of Ahiqar and arranged them in a collection. But it cannot be overlooked that nothing specific concerning such a service is mentioned. There is no statement about the different tasks of such a service – maybe as scribe, counsellor, commander, or something else – and no hint that those 32  L.  6 begins with an admonition not to extinguish the word of the king (’l tkbh, the reading tksh [TAD; Grelot: Proverbes, 517; M. Weigl: Compositional Strategies in the Aramaic Sayings of Ahikar: Columns 6–8, in: P. M. M. Daviau/J. W. Wevers/M. Weigl (eds.), The World of the Aramaeans III. Studies in Language and Literature in Honour of Paul-Eugène Dion, JSOTSup 326, Sheffield 2001, 41], is clearly wrong as a comparison of the traces, which fit perfectly to a bet, with the other samekhs show). Rather one should let it be “hot” (dp’h, cf. Arabic dafi’). This admonition is followed by a saying about the king’s speech which, though smooth, still is more dangerous than a two-edged sword. Though both parts may be read as two entities, they are not divided by the archaic aleph. Ll. 7–8 contain a large unit of several sentences which are connected syntactically to each other. They warn to be careful and not to appear in the time of the king’s rage. The next section (l. 9), which is clearly divided from the foregoing, speaks about something of the king which is a blazing fire, if something is ordered. Thus, one should fulfil the order quickly. Otherwise the flame could be kindled against oneself. The best interpretation points to the king’s desire, which, when is encountered, should be treated like a blazing fire (cf. l. 6!). This desire easily could change to a devouring fire if it is not fulfilled, thus inciting the king’s rage (cf. l. 7). The end of the corresponding word probably was ]bt˚. Thus Porten/Yardeni [TAD] are probably right to take the trace joining the right stem of the taw as a bet. The traditional reading as a mem, kept by Weigl: Sayings, 44, and Grelot: Proverbes, 517, does not fit this trace. One would expect some traces of the mem’s legs. A form from the root y’b would also fit. Thus one should probably read [kn y]bt˚ mlk “[Thus is the des]ire of a king”. Finally, l. 10a is an admonition to fulfil ([s]p; cf. Kottsieper: Sprache § 90c–e, which obviously was overlooked by Weigl: Sayings, 45) the king’s word with one’s heart’s content, which resembles closely l. 6a. Although l. 10b also speaks about the king, its subject is not the service before him, but the more global aspect of his might, which a normal person cannot argue against. Thus it is divided clearly from the foregoing by the archaic alef.



The Aramaic Tradition: Ahikar

117

people deemed themselves to be members of a special class of courtiers in contrast to other people of the society. On the contrary, these admonitions reveal a certain reservation – they deal with the danger of being exposed to royal power. The possibility of being neglectful of duties and responsibilities and the wrath and punishment that would result is the concern expressed and not the advantage of such a service. Thus we may assume that the service at the king’s court was only one realm in which the composers and compilers were active. This is corroborated by the sayings which imply the possibility for the addressees to engage in contract labor or to act as the servant of a “master.”33 Moreover, a saying about the different occupations of the Bedouins/Arabs and Sidonians hints to some experience in international trade (XVI 1 [142/207]). And the fact that the collectors kept the sayings originating from the middle class family wisdom may be taken as a hint that they still belonged to this class. Thus we may conclude that, though well educated and trained in writing, they were still members of a middle class. As such they could not only serve at the king’s court, but also earn their money as scribes – for example in producing contracts and private letters –, as manciples or trustees, or engaged in trade. Thus, though their ability to read and write well was a prerequisite to fulfil these special tasks, one should best not call them “scribes” (spr) as a designation of a special group serving at the king’s court or in the administration. Surely, they could serve there, but this collection does not argue for the assumption that they produced it as royal “scribes,” because the special tasks or situation of a scribe are nowhere mentioned in the preserved parts of the collection. And also the term “sage” (kym) should be used only with hesitation. Surely, they would not have minded being called “wise” (kym), but there is also no clear hint that there existed a special group of “sages” in their society. 34 In contrast, wisdom is deemed as a gift given by the gods to humankind (IX 16 [94/189]) and was to be possessed by each individual (VI 5 [146/146]). However, not everyone who collected sayings were themselves among the educated. There are clear indications that smaller collections existed, which were not shaped by the later, educated editors; they simply used these small collections as they were and did not break them up into single sayings in order to place them in more appropriate contexts. Thus V 1–4 (126–129) offers two parallel pairs of admonitions. But the admonitions Cf. note 16 and the related text. Although VIII 6 (178/114) mentions the speech of a kym, we cannot be sure that kym is used as a designation of a “sage”, because the preceding words are missing. Thus kym could have been used attributively. Since this “wise (man)” is probably mentioned in the context of a saying about a man (gbr) who is a blockhead (rt’; Kottsieper: Sprache, § 54), probably it does not focus on “sages” but rather on the difference between a fool and a wise man. 33 

34 

118

Ingo Kottsieper

of each pair do not share the same theme. 35 The fact that the collector made no attempt to put these admonitions into an appropriate sequence clearly shows that he found them as pairs and kept their order. 36 But since l. 4 mentions loans, it is quite understandable that he continued this collection with another small collection containing the same theme. And it is apparent that the editor did not make up this small collection also, but found it as a pre-existing entity, which is then inserted into this larger context. In contrast to most of the other sayings, these short admonitions are not divided from each other by the archaic alef or through breaking of lines, but rather connected with conjunctions. 37 Since these collections used by the collector are quite small, they easily could have been transmitted orally. Especially the two parallel pairs of admonitions which not only share the same themes but also several formulations38 obviously reflect an oral tradition in which proverbs easily could be reformulated.39 Thus, we may assume that such smaller collections of proverbs were also an element of family wisdom, suggesting the assembling of sayings was not an invention of people who were better educated 35  Thus ll. 1 and 3 deal with unjustified attacks on a just person, but ll. 2 and 4 with the question concerning how to act in a situation of need. 36  A complicated and less convincing discussion as to why the collector did not choose a more logical sequence is offered by A. Scherer: Vielfalt und Ordnung. Komposition in den biblischen Proverbien und in den aramäischen Ahiqarsprüchen, BN 90 (1997), 3–37, who obviously tries to answer the wrong question and presupposes the unproven assumption that this editor worked only with single sayings. 37  Another example is found in IX 14–X 14. This passage is connected by four main themes: (a) God, (b) Wisdom, (c) Speech, and (d) King. Thus IX 14–15 mentions abc, IX 16–X 1 ab, X 2 indirectly c, which is the centre theme of ll. 3–4. Then the section about the service at the king’s court (ll. 6–10a, cf. note 32) follows (d), which not only mentions the king’s word, but is indirectly related to the foregoing section, because to be careful with his own words and not to tell everything that one has heard is a prerequisite for the service at the court (c). A further saying about the king is added in l. 10b (d) and l. 11b–12a contains a saying about the might of the tongue (c). Ll. 13–14 offer two sayings about the king (d) compared with gods (a). Thus, the four themes form the following sequence: abc ab (c) c (c)d d c da. Obviously the collector put these sayings together, because they share some themes. But, e. g. X 11b– 12a would have a better fit after X 5. And X 11a and 12b do not mention anyone of the four themes. Thus even Weigl: Sayings, 47–50, admits that these sayings are isolated, and only by very far fetched assumptions like the one that tasting something bitter would recall the tongue, which is mentioned – although as the organ of speech! – in the context of these pro­ verbs, can he hold his view that they were placed here deliberately by the collector. But these observations are easily explained by the assumption that he did not use here single sayings, but short collections which contained different sayings. Thus probably X 10b–12 was such a small collection containing beside a saying about the king (10b) and the tongue (11b–12a) also two other sayings. Because the collection started with the saying about the king, the editor decided to place it after X 6–10a, the main section about the king. 38  Thus q]štk w’l thrkb tk ldyq (l. 1) is paralleled by d]rgt qštk whrkbt k ldyq mnk (l. 3) and l. 2 and 4 share the formulations yh bry and t’kl wtšb‘ wtntn lbnyk. 39  Cf. also Scherer: Vielfalt, 36.



The Aramaic Tradition: Ahikar

119

and could write. Obviously the latter simply took over this tradition and used their ability to write for creating larger collections. These results illustrate the great value the proverbial wisdom possessed – sayings were deemed not just as private utterance but worthy to be collected and transmitted even by well educated men. As stated above, there is no hint about the existence of a school in the preserved parts of the collections, but on the contrary some sayings imply the instruction of adults by their fathers or elder members of the family. Thus it is probable that also those people who could write and were educated enough to work as scribes, advisers, or the like even at the king’s court handed down their skills to their sons. This suggests the education of literate persons also was carried out primarily within the realm of the family – and thus there was no school at all. This does not exclude the possibility that occasionally a clever young man from a different family could have been chosen as a famulus and then educated by a “sage” or “scribe.” In fact, one proverb appears to hint at a connection between a “sage” and his “pupil,” which was comparable to the relation between father and son. Thus VII 11–12 (169–170/105–106) mentions the eye(s) and the heart of the speaker, which he directed to the addressee “in wisdom,” but obviously the addressee has despised40 the name of the speaker “by your deeds of wantonness”.41 Although the middle part of the saying is lost, the most cogent interpretation seems to be that a sage complains about his experience with a pupil to whom he devoted his attention and who spoiled his reputation through means of his foolish deeds.42 It is not by chance that 40  hbt; before this word a small tongue of papyrus is well preserved, ruling out the common reading wyhbt. The yod would have been located above this tongue, as the drawing of TAD show. But this would be an uncommon place for it. Thus one either has to read whbt (Kottsieper: Sprache) or more preferably to assume that hbt stands alone. Since hbt cannot be connected with yhb, it is best taken as a perfect 1 c. sg. or 2 m. sg. from the root hb “to knock down, wipe out,” which is found in Ugaritic and Arabic. 41  bšrwt˚y˚ [k. After the waw are three tiny traces of two letters, two at the top of the gap and one at the bottom. As the vertical fibres show, the part that forms the bottom of the gap is a bit extended to the left caused by the crack running downwards a little more to the right under the et. If one corrects this, the lower trace and the first upper one fit quite well to a taw, which is also to be expected here. The left upper trace does not fit well an alef, because it is clearly lower than the top of the taw, which would be uncommon for an aleph. But the trace fits perfectly a yod or he. Since the later does not makes sense here (whose wantonness would be mentioned?), the reading of a yod is the best solution. Although it would be possible to interpret this as “my wantonness” (thus Kottsieper: Sprache) it seems to fit the context better to assume the suffixed plural bšrwt˚y˚ [k. If this is correct then the plural of šrw “wantonness” (cf. note 18) connotes the “deeds of wantonness”. 42  Probably the constructions with zy in the first part of the proverb are not to be taken as attributives but rather as predicates, cf. K. Beyer: Die aramäischen Texte vom Toten Meer: samt den Inschriften aus Palästina, dem Testament Levis aus der Kairoer Genisa, der Fastenrolle und den alten talmudischen Zitaten: aramaistische Einleitung, Text, Übersetzung, Deutung, Grammatik/Wörterbuch, deutsch-aramäische Wortliste, Register, Göttingen 1984, 550,

120

Ingo Kottsieper

the formulation of the saying’s end echoes IX 6–7 (84–85/179–180) where the foolish deeds of a person spoils the reputation of his father and his family “through the reputation of his wantonness” (bšm šrwt˚h˚).

Conclusion Thus, we may conclude that the so-called “Proverbs of Ahikar” belongs to a wisdom tradition that is deeply rooted in familial wisdom, which expresses the ideology of the middle class and advises how to act appropriately in different situations. This tradition was handed down through the generations. And it was kept even by those who gained a more educated status and who added not only their own experiences, such as serving in the king’s court or in the realm of trade, but also used their intellectual skills to expand this tradition with several deeper insights into the nature of humanity and the world.43 And they used their ability of writing to collect the different oral traditions and to preserve them in a written form. Given the fact that this collection was made up around 700 B. C. E., one may consider that the political and social changes connected with the occupation of the southwest Aramaean states by the Assyrians were at least one motivation to write down such a large collection and thus to prevent the loss of their own wisdom tradition.

The Story of Ahikar The story of Ahikar44 is not an historical record, but rather a fictional wisdom narrative composed probably in the 6th century B. C. E.45 It tells and Vol. II (2004), 374–375. At the beginning of l. 12 a reading like w’nt or lmh would fit the space. Thus probably the saying reads ‘yny zy nlt ‘lyk wlbby zy yhbt lk bkmh| [w’nt/lmh] hbt šmy bšrwt˚y˚ [k], “My eye(s) I put upon you and my heart I gave to you in wisdom, but you have spoiled/why did you spoil my name through (the deeds of) your wantonness?!” 43  Cf. also Niehr: Weisheit, 180–181. 44  The following analysis is mainly based on Kottsieper: Geschichte, 324–327, 343–347, with some small corrections. An analysis of the fragments’ horizontal fibers of col. I had shown that in contrast to the traditional view still shared by TAD the lower part of the fragments should be moved up one line. Thus, one must keep in mind that I 7 corresponds to ll. 7–8 in the other editions. This is also corroborated by the fact that the text’s height now fits better the height shown by the other columns (23,8 cm – 26 cm). Without this correction, col. I would have shown a text height of about 28 cm. In addition, the left fragment of the upper part must be located 2,1 cm further left as shown not only by the vertical fibers, but also by the fact that only then do the vertical cracks match. Thus in the middle of ll. 1–6 a longer text must be read than in the older edition. And the traces from the original account on recto (C3.7 AR3 1–10) do not belong to the right margin of this column, which obviously was wiped clean, although small traces of ink are still discernible. 45  Kottsieper: Geschichte, 323.



The Aramaic Tradition: Ahikar

121

about Ahikar who served at Esarhaddon’s court. Because he had no son of his own, he adopted his nephew, educated him, and presented him to Esarhaddon. After Esarhaddon had accepted Ahikar’s nephew as his successor, Ahikar retires. But then his nephew defamed Ahikar to the king who subsequently issued orders to execute him. But the officer, commanded to carry out this order, earlier had been saved by Ahikar from a comparable false accusation. Thus the officer kills one of his own servants in the place of Ahikar and hides him in order to allow him to survive. Although the rest of the story is lost in the Aramaic version, the later traditions indicate that afterwards Ahikar was cleared from this accusation and his nephew was punished. Thus, this story belongs to the literary group of Weisheit­ liche Lehrerzählungen 46 and especially to the “court legends,” which tell about court intrigues against wise and/or pious persons who were rescued because of their wise and pious lives.47 This outline of the story is shared by all the later versions. Most of these also place proverbs after it was narrated that Ahikar’s nephew had been accepted as his successor and not, as one might expect, at the point of the story where it was told that Ahikar brought up his nephew and educated him. Since our material reconstruction of the column’s sequence has shown that the first two columns of the story belonged to the beginning of the scroll while the other columns were located at the end,48 obviously the Aramaic text also possesses this sequence.49 Thus, the traditional interpretation of II 7–14 (23–31) as the beginning of the plot against Ahikar is improbable.50 46  Cf. H. Strauss: Weisheitliche Lehrerzählungen im und um das Alte Testament, ZAW 116 (2004), 379–395, esp. 386–387. 47  Cf. e. g. L. Wills: The Jew in the Court of the Foreign King. Ancient Jewish Court Legends (HDR 26), Minneapolis, MN 1990, esp. 44–49. 48  Cf. p. 110–111. 49  This result is corroborated by some observations on XVII 3–4 (34–35). L. 3 contains the demand, “you should/may search a place (’tr), where you will find,” words obviously uttered by Esarhaddon. Since ’tr is without a definite article, this cannot mean that the addressee should search a certain place where he could find, for instance, a certain person. Thus Esarhaddon is not ordering Nabusumiskun to find the place where Ahikar dwells. And at the beginning of the preserved part of l. 4 the reading h˚nlw is improbable. The traces of the supposed nun would fit only an extremely broad and not a normal nun. And the heh would be placed too near the following nun. But the traces fit perfectly ˚’klw, which can be expanded to qry ]˚’klw “they defamed me.” This fits perfectly the following statement: “This old Ahikar is/was a wise scribe | […] why should he/so that he not will damage the land against us?” Thus probably XVII 1–3 (32–34) contains a note that Esarhaddon now, after recalling his services (l. 2), releases Ahikar to find himself a place where he could retire (cf. XVII 9 [40] depicting Ahikar as strolling between the vineyards), followed by Ahikar’s defamation by certain people obviously led by his nephew. 50  Thus ‘št ‘l (II 9 [25]) was understood as “he deliberated against (Ahikar)” and šgy’ yrgš mln šm‘ (II 13 [29]) as the intended reaction of the king hearing the false accusation against Ahikar. Finally the last preserved word in II 14 (30) has been read as bd’, “he invented, lied.” But the negative interpretation of ‘št ‘l is by no means sure (cf. TAD A4.7,23) and šgy’ yrgš

122

Ingo Kottsieper

The contrary assumption, that this section still belongs to the first part of the story, is corroborated by the fact that l. 10 (26) indicates some “eating”51 occurred, which is in accord with the later versions. Either at the end of the first part as an introduction to the proverbs52 or before the nephew was accepted as Ahikar’s successor,53 these notes about consumption indicate that Ahikar’s nephew ate and drank the teaching of Ahikar. Thus, it is probable that II 10 contains the source of this motif common to the later versions. 54 But there are also some significant differences between the first part and the second in the Aramaic version. Although the king’s title is normally just mlk’, “the king,” in the second part,55 the first part mostly has mlk ’twr, “the king of Assyria.”56 Probably only once the shorter title is used (I 7 [7+8]).57 And though the later part always spells the name of Sennacherib with a samekh (XVIII 2, 3, 7 [50, 51, 55]), the first part always writes it with a shin (I 3, 4, 14 [3, 4, 15]). And the gate of the palace is called everywhere bb in the first part (I 8 [9]; II 1, 7 [17, 23]) while the second uses tr‘ (XVII 13 [44]). And it cannot be overlooked that in contrast to the clear and straightforward course of the events of the story in the second part, the first not only shows repetitions but also includes several contradictions. Thus, the adopting and teaching of Ahikar’s nephew is probably mentioned in the introduction (I 1–2 [1–2]) and again in I 6–8 (6–9). After Ahikar has taught his nephew, he is for the first time introduced to Esarhaddon to whom he demonstrates his skill (I 8–10 [9–11]). Esarhaddon favors him and congratulates Ahikar for his decision to adopt this man (I 10–11 [11–12]). Ahikar takes the chance and makes the proposal that he mln šm‘ hardly can be translated with “he (Esarhaddon) will be abundantly agitated (when) words he hears” (TAD) – one would expect šm‘ mln! And if mln would refer to the false accusation against Ahikar, it should be determined. The solution to read afterwards k’lh “like these” (Cowley: Papyri) is ruled out, because the preserved trace of the first letter excludes a kaf. And even the reading bd’ is not sure. In the sequence of r/(d)’ …, the aleph is often written very close to the foregoing letter and extends its right foot under its bar. But in II 14 (30) there is a small gap between r/d and the aleph comparable to the gap between br and ’t[y I 6 (6). Thus II 14 (30) can also be read as kzy bry zyl’ bry br ’[ty. 51  lm[xxxxx(x)]l[xx] ’kl ’[; the interpretation of ’kl as an impf. from khl (thus e. g. Cowley: Papyri, 228) is less likely because the form appears as ’khl in II 1 (17). 52  Cf. the Slavonic, Armenianb, Syriacb, and Arabic. Also cf. F. Conybeare/J. Harris/A. Lewis: The Story of Ahikar from the Aramaic, Syriac, Arabic, Ethiopic, Old Turkish, Greek, and Slavonic Versions, 2nd ed., rev. and corr., Cambridge 1913, 2, 57, 103, 132. 53  Thus the Armenian and Turkish version, cf. Conybeare/Harris/and Lewis: Story, 25,87. 54  Thus, one may read the section as lm[ bry k]l[y ]’kl ’[lpny “‘[My son ]ate[ my] t[eaching like sw]ee[ts’”. 55  XVII 16 (47); XVIII 2 (50), 3 , 5, 7 (50, 51, 53, 55). 56  I 3, 4, 7, 9, 10, 12, 13 (3, 5, 7+8, 10, 11, 13, 14); II 4 (20). 57  The gap between l’sr[˚’]d˚n˚ and the following bry provides the space only for a word like mlk’. Cf. note 44 for the corrected position of the fragments. Otherwise ’twr is only missing if another “title” like ’bwhy/’bwk “his/your father” follows (I 5, 14 [5, 15]).



The Aramaic Tradition: Ahikar

123

should be his successor, a proposal accepted by the king (I 11–II 6 [12–22]). It is most astonishing that in this part of the story his successor now is called “NDN by name, my son” (ndn šmh bry; II 2 [18]). And Esarhaddon is informed about the fact, that Ahikar’s son NDN is now grown up (II 2 [18]) – the very same person who just before impressed the king with his knowledge. Ahikar then mentions his own skills, but, because of the damages suffered by the fragment, it is not clear if he had taught them to NDN or still wants to teach them. This section ends with the notice that Ahikar went back home. Since the last section of this part (II 7–13 [23–30]) obviously is not the beginning of the plot against Ahikar, it must have told again about the son’s/nephew’s presentation at the court (l. 7 [23]), where Ahikar probably proposes to the king that he will seek out the good of the land (II 8 [24]), pointing to the fact that he raised him (II 9 [24])58 and allowed him “to eat” his teaching (II 10 [25]). Thus, referring to his own service for Sennacherib (II 11 [26]), he proposes that Assyria should rely on the words of his nephew (or son), who is now wise (II 12 [27]), for he will pay careful attention to matters (II 13 [28]).59 After this proposal has been accepted (II [13–]14 [[28–]29]), the proverbs are inserted as Ahikar’s teaching in the same way the later versions do. All of these observations argue for the assumption that the first part of the story is based on a report about Ahikar who had been a counsellor at Sennacherib’s court (I 1*, 2a, 3*, 4a [1*, 2a, 3*, 4a]) and who, after Esarhaddon had succeeded his father Sennacherib, decided to propose his son as his successor, because he himself had become old (I 4b–6a, 8b–9a, 12b*– II 6a [4b–6a, 9b–10a, 13b*–22a]). After Esarhaddon had agreed, Ahikar taught his son his wisdom and presents him now as his educated successor before the king (II 6[b]–8a, 9[b]–14 [22[b]–23a, 24[b]–30]). Obviously, this short story was written as an introduction to the older collection of the proverbs60 but later expanded by the court story about Ahikar that originally did not include proverbs.61 58  Thus ‘št ‘l[ may be either taken as “planning about him (to make him my successor)” or as a citation of a command given to his son/nephew during his education, as proposed by Kottsieper: Geschichte, 327. 59  Since rgš can also mean “to perceive, take attention to,” šgy’ yrgš mln probably is a description of the future tasks or the skills of Ahikar’s nephew. The following šm‘ may be interpreted as “listening to” or as the beginning of a new sentence: “E[sarhaddon] heard.” 60  Cf. the introduction to the “Instruction of Ptahhotep” as a parallel, which shares some motives with our story. 61  The following sections probably were taken from this story: I 2b (2b) (starting with rbh), the notice about Ahikar’s childlessness in I 3, 6b–8a, 9 (without the first word) –12a, II 8 (without the first word) –9a (3, 6b–9a, 10–13a, 24–25a). These sections not only deal with his nephew instead of his son, but also depict Ahikar also as a counsellor of Assyria (I 3, 11 [3, 12]), which is found also in the second part of the story (XVII 12 [43]; XVIII 7–8, 12–13

124

Ingo Kottsieper

The two stories offer different views about the function of Ahikar. The court story calls him a “wise scribe”62 and depicts him especially as father and counsellor to all of Assyria or its army.63 Although this focus on Assyria is essential for the story,64 it also proves it is fiction, since probably there was not such an influential man in the great Assyrian empire. But it also shows that in the world of the narrator a scribe at the king’s court could gain great influence not only as an adviser of the king but also as a counsellor of the people and the army. Thus it probably reflects the situation of a little kingdom where such an influence was easier to achieve by a man who not only held the office of a scribe but was well known as a wise man. On the other hand, the original introduction of the proverbs depicts Ahikar as the counsellor of the king, working in his service (I 14 [15]) as a scribe (II 2 [18]), and acting as the bearer of the king’s seal (I 3 [3], II 3 [19]). And it is only the king who relies on his advice (I 4 [4]). Thus, this original introduction reflects a special relation between the king and a scribe as his counsellor. Both stories agree on the assertion that to gain such a position an education in wisdom is a necessary prerequisite. Thus Ahikar not only teaches his nephew (I 8 [9]) so he can answer the king’s questions and counsel him (I 10–11 [11–12]), as the court story tells, but also the introduction to the proverbs states that it is the special teaching of his father which made NDN wise and capable of serving as his successor (II 3, 10, 12 [19, 26, 28]). Thus both stories share the same view that wisdom was primarily handed down in the realm of the family or to a chosen famulus, and the author of the proverb’s introduction takes such a proverbial tradition as the medium by which wisdom was taught.

[55–56, 60–61]). Of course, we have to take in account the possibility that the redactor could have altered the texts at some points to make them fit better. Especially in the introduction (I 1–2a [1–2a]) and at the end of the first part (II 14 [30]), he obviously introduced the motive of the court story that Ahikar had adopted his nephew. Thus we find in II 14 (30) the expression “my son, who was not my son, the son of [my] s[ister”, cf. note 50. 62  spr kym: I 10 (10), XVII 4, 11 (35, 42); cf. I 1 (1) where this designation may be taken from the court story by the redactor, cf. note 61. 63  Cf. note 61. The motive, that he holds the king’s seal, is found elsewhere only in XVIII 12 (60). 64  The accusation that he could destroy the land, as over against the court (XVII 5 [36]), could only be taken seriously, if Ahikar had great influence on the land and its army.

V. Scribes, Sages, and Seers in First Temple Israel

Katharine Dell

Scribes, Sages and Seers in the First Temple Introduction Solomon was not only the builder of the Temple in Jerusalem (1 Kgs 5–8), but he was also a king famed for his wisdom (1 Kgs 3, 4:29–34, 5:9–14; esp. v. 10), an attribute particularly desirable in rulers.1 Any quest for information about the social context of scribes, sages and seers in the period of the First Temple (approx. 950–587 B. C. E.) should begin with Solomon himself. What kind of social edifice did he build up around him? What functions did those in administrative and educational roles under him serve? And how can we bring these shadowy figures into full view, given the paucity of information we have about them?2 First of all we need to take one step back from Solomon to the texts that illuminate our study of the genre for which he is famous – to the wisdom literature of the Old Testament, the “canon” of the wise of ancient Israel. On a strict definition of “wisdom literature,”3 it would be simply the book of Proverbs that would be a contender for our period of First Temple Israel, and within that book we might wish to discount Proverbs 1–9 as later 1  Isa 11:2 describes the spirit of “wisdom and understanding” as one of the principal attributes of the ideal king. 2  R. Whybray: The Social World of the Wisdom Writers, in: R. Clements (ed.), The World of Ancient Israel, Cambridge 1989, 227–250, makes the point that the bulk of our knowledge of the social world of the wisdom writers is gleaned almost entirely from ancient Near Eastern parallels. He writes, “Whereas the social background of the authors of the biblical wisdom books is virtually never directly alluded to either in these books themselves or elsewhere in the Old Testament (with the exception of the dubious attributions of parts of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes to Solomon and the references to Solomon’s literary activity in I Kgs 4:32–34 [Heb 5:12–14]), some of the Egyptian and Mesopotamian works in question provide the most precise indications of their provenance and purpose” (230–231). 3  See discussion in K. Dell: Get Wisdom, Get Insight: An Introduction to Israel’s Wisdom Literature, London 2000, 1–13.

126

Katharine Dell

material, although I will choose not to do so here on the grounds that there may well be material within it with earlier roots.4 However, there are other parts of the Old Testament widely held to show signs of “wisdom influence” which need to come into consideration here, notably the Joseph Story, 5 the Succession Narrative,6 and possibly more. We will see how the debate about social context is inextricably linked to the issue of the definition of wisdom, as what to include as “influenced by wisdom” or even “a product of wisdom circles” largely depends on how you define those very circles. An important distinction needs to be made between time of origination and the period of composition when considering the core maxims that make up the bulk of the book of Proverbs. When we speak of the book of Proverbs as we have it today, it is a written document, quite probably compiled in separate stages. However, sayings within it are likely to have an oral prehistory in a predominantly non-literate, agricultural context.7 It is probable that maxims circulated separately until they were brought together, possibly in clusters, before being put into their present position in the text.8 The stage that we are chiefly concerned about here is the second one of the time of writing these down. As Lemaire writes,9 “The original setting of proverbs is traditional society, but the setting of written collections is the wisdom school.” Wherever and however proverbs and pithy sayings originated, the key point is when either the sages or scribes of ancient Israel made it a part of their Scripture, i. e. when they felt inspired to write the material down. Of 4  In many ways much of the material in the instructions is “timeless.” B. Lang: Frau Weisheit, Deutung einer biblischen Gestalt, Düsseldorf 1975, argued for the texts on Woman Wisdom as early, indicating a goddess of wisdom. C. Bauer-Kayatz: Studien zu Prover­bien 1–9. Eine form- und motivgeschichtliche Untersuchung unter Einbeziehung ägyptischen Vergleichmaterials, WMANT 22, Neukirchen-Vluyn 1966, argued for a pre-exilic date for Proverbs 1–9 and for its concepts. 5  Suggested by G. von Rad in: The Joseph Narrative and ancient wisdom, in: The Problem of the Hexateuch and Other Essays, Edinburgh/London 1966; London 1984, 292–300. 6  Expounded in detail by R. Whybray: The Succession Narrative, SBT Second Series 9, London 1968. 7  See C. Westermann: Roots of Wisdom, Edinburgh, 1995. 8  R. Whybray argues in Wisdom Literature in the Reigns of David and Solomon, in: T. Ishida (ed.), Studies in the Period of David and Solomon and Other Essays: Papers Read at the International Symposium for Biblical Studies, December 1979, Tokyo 1982, 13–26, that so-called preliterate cultures may have been highly literate, and so we are not to see all proverbs as a court product. He writes, “There may have been circles in Israel well before the monarchy which created – and perhaps gathered into collections – proverbs in poetical and parallelistic form, which were quite distinct from ordinary sayings arising in daily life and had a more serious intention, but which did so – as occurred with other peoples – without the stimulus of the school-oriented and court-oriented milieux which are supposed to have existed in the time of David and Solomon” (23). 9  A. Lemaire: The Sage in School and Temple, in: J. Gammie/L. Perdue (eds.), The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, Winona Lake, IN 1990, 175.



Scribes, Sages and Seers in the First Temple

127

course, it is possible that the material had no prehistory and was always a written product, but the series of miscellaneous sayings found notably in Proverbs 10:1–22:16 and 25–29 suggests otherwise (however much “order” recent scholars have attempted to find in them,10 and even that may be an imposed order at the compositional stage). There are some clues as to the process of writing down oral sayings in Proverbs. The main ascription of all the proverbs is to Solomon (1:1, 10:1, 25:1) and that may be a matter of honorific transferal of authorship by those who served him.11 However, the more interesting reference is to the “men of Hezekiah” who “copied” Solomon’s proverbs (Prov 25:1),12 which reveals the process of writing down and appears to have taken place at the court of a subsequent king to Solomon. Either this simply reveals that a copying process went on, or it may show that this period was a crucial one for the writing down of material, possibly more than just Prov 25–29 for which it is the heading.13 The book of Proverbs is itself thought to be a collection of written material from different stages and contexts.14 Prov 1–9 is often seen as the latest section as it is more theologically developed with the figure of wisdom in Prov 8 and contains more references to “the fear of the Lord” than other parts of the book. However, whilst the writing down of this section may have been later than other parts, I see no need to date this section to the post-exilic period and would argue for the later pre-exilic period, still in monarchic Israel.15 The material within it, however, may have had even earlier roots (e. g. Prov 8 could have existed as a separate description, similarly Prov 7 and instruction texts might well have pre-existed their present context). Prov 1–9 in fact indicates that both a religious and educational context is appropriate for the book of Proverbs, with the distinctive instruction texts in this section indicating a strongly educational 10  See the collection of articles in M. Fox (ed.): Essays on the Art of the Aphorism, JSOT 29.2, (2004), and K. Heim: Like Grapes of Gold set in Silver. An Interpretation of Proverbial Clusters in Proverbs 10:1–22:16, BZAW 273, Berlin 2001. 11  See the debate in W. Brueggemann: The Social Significance of Solomon as a Patron of Wisdom, in: The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, 117–132, on the way the legendary nature of Solomonic authorship has been widely assumed. Further, the emphasis is placed on his significance in political and economic terms rather than in simply literary ones. 12  Highlighted by R. Scott: Solomon and the Beginnings of Wisdom in Israel, VTSup 3, Leiden 1955, 262–279, as the more plausible time for the writing down of this proverbial material and as a more historically reliable attribution. 13  It has been noted that ironically for the one section for which we have a plausibly more historical attribution in the reign of a king, the subject matter of the proverbs within it are remarkably domestic and agricultural, and they could not be further from the concerns of the royal court. U. Skladny: Die ältesten Spruchsammlungen in Israel, Göttingen 1962, for example, does not see this section of Proverbs as connected with the court. 14  See R. Whybray: The Composition of the Book of Proverbs, JSOTS 168, Sheffield 1994. 15  See K. Dell: The Book of Proverbs in Social and Theological Context, Cambridge 2006.

128

Katharine Dell

concern and making frequent reference to God (and to Wisdom, often interchangeably), showing that a divine concern was not absent from the minds of the wisdom writers. The next section, Prov 10:1–22:16, is the lengthy collection of maxims containing material on all kinds of topics, including wealth and poverty, wise and foolish behavior, work, family life, good communication, and so on. An educational context is possible, but not as explicit as in Prov 1–9. A religious context was often thought by scholars to be unlikely, since so much of the subject matter of the proverbs is “secular” and mention of God is slim.16 However, there are important clusters that refer to God in these chapters, and it is my view that the world-view of the writers of this material was one in which the divine was inextricably linked to human concerns.17 The collection, Prov 22:17–24:22, is interesting in that it closely resembles an ancient Egyptian instruction text, the Instruction of Amenemopet, which was used as a school text for many centuries and “copied” by successive generations of those learning to write.18 Could this be the kind of “copying” practiced by the “men of Hezekiah” in the following section? An educational concern is paramount here, due, not so much to the content of the section,19 but rather to our knowledge of the educational context of Amenemopet. 20 Prov 25–29 is another maxims section, containing considerable repeats from the earlier maxims collections, and the topics are quite domestic and agricultural. Prov 30 and 31 contain more fragmented material but with some interesting attributions, in Prov 30 to Agur, son of Jakeh, an unknown character, and in Prov 31 to King Lemuel, as taught by his mother, suggesting not only a foreign court context, 21 but also a family teaching one. In Prov W. McKane: Proverbs: A New Approach, Old Testament Library, London 1970. See K. Dell: The Book of Proverbs in Social and Theological Context, Cambridge 2006. 18  The question of whether there is dependence here continues to be raised, R. Whybray: The Structure and Composition of Prov 22:17–24:22, in: S. Porter/P. Joyce/D. Orton (eds.), Crossing the Boundaries: Essays in Biblical Interpretation in Honour of Michael D. Goulder, Leiden 1994, 83–96, recently arguing against borrowing; and J. A. Emerton: The Teaching of Amenemope and Proverbs XXII 11–XXIV 22: Further Reflections on a Long-standing Problem, VT 51 (2001), 431–465, arguing in favor. 19  It seems that we are finding different criteria here for seeing an educational context comparable to the Egyptian one in relation to different sections of Proverbs. Prov 22:17–24:22 is being regarded as belonging to the sphere of education, because of its dependence on the Egyptian handbook, whilst in Prov 1–9 the criteria re the mention of father and mother, the content of the teaching, and so on point to a father instructing his son in a familial context. 20  Prov 24:23–30 is a short sayings collection that is often left out of account and has its closest parallel in the main sayings section of the book. 21  In reference to both characters, the use of ‫ המשׂא‬in Prov 30:1 and ‫ משׂא‬in Prov 31:1 can either be translated “the oracle” or “an oracle” (as NRSV) or “of Massa.” If the latter this might indicate a place of origin. Massa is also mentioned as a North Arabian tribe, and hence a tribal area, in Gen 25:14 and 1 Chr 1:30 and as a son of Ishmael. 16  17 



Scribes, Sages and Seers in the First Temple

129

30 the emphasis is on nature wisdom with a context in the natural world coming to the fore (also evidenced elsewhere in Proverbs, notably in the main maxims section) and in Prov 31 there is an interesting poem to a capable wife (cf. references to a contentious wife in Prov 21:9, 25:24; also the figures of woman wisdom and folly in Prov 7–9) which fills out our picture of the social roles of women in relation to this material. There are three categories to consider here – that of scribe ‫ספר‬, sage ‫חכם‬, and seer ‫ראה‬. It seems that “scribe” is the broadest category and basically refers to a person who is literate22 and furthermore who writes for a living. In a sense as soon as a writing system is developed 23 there is a need for some to have the ability to use that system in reading and writing; hence the profession of scribe is found in all nations of the ancient Near East. 24 It is likely that this was a profession, 25 in Israel possibly centered in Jerusalem, although it is probable that scribal families26 were to be found in other towns. 27 They may have performed quite simple roles of keeping written records of important occasions and documents. However, our evidence points to a group of scribes employed at court in writing functions that may 22  The extent of literacy in ancient Israel is another unknown factor. Lemaire suggests that there may have been widespread education, at least from the eighth century onwards (from which time there are more extant written data) and possibly quite high standards of literacy among the population outside scribal training itself but within schools. He writes in The Sage in School and Temple: “Such a spread of literacy, well beyond the circle of professional scribes, would have been difficult to attain without the institution of schools” (170). We can look at levels of literacy in other parts of the ancient Near East, and the finding is that it is not very high. Even some kings could not read and write. R. Baines: Literacy and Ancient Egyptian society, Man 18 (1983), 572–599, states that very few people were literate and those who were were all served as officials of state and that schooling was very limited. This may then suggest that we should not overstate its extent in early Israel (see A. Demsky: Literacy, in: The Oxford Encyclopedia of Archaeology in the Near East III, ed. E. Meyers, New York/Oxford 1997, 362–369). The one biblical passage that mentions the ability to read is Isa 29:11–12 (and Isa 10:19 would seem to refer to the ability to write down numbers). 23  The development of an alphabet is a key stage which may have made access to literacy more widespread. As A. Demsky: Education in the Biblical Period, EJ VI, Jerusalem 1971, cols. 382–398, 1971, writes, “To be literate was no longer the identifying and exclusive character of a class of professional scribes and priests, versed in abstruse cuneiform and hieroglyphic scripts” (col. 391). There is archaeological evidence of abecedaries and school exercises that would have been essential for education in schools or otherwise. 24  Scribes were employed at court and also by private individuals often in relation to their business affairs. 25  How specialized is a matter for debate. See A. Demsky, Scribe, EJ XIV, Jerusalem 1971, cols. 1042–1043. 26  A. Demsky, Education in the Biblical Period, suggests that the scribal class was originally organized along family lines and uses the evidence of 1 Chr 2:55. Kinship seems to have featured in the power wielded by scribal families such as that of Shaphan (2 Kgs 22:3, Jer 36:11, 12, 20, 21, and 40:9). 27  See discussion in J. Crenshaw: Education in Ancient Israel: Across the Deadening Silence, New York 1998.

130

Katharine Dell

have included the copying of material as described in Prov 25:1. In order to be literate, these scribes must have been taught the skill somewhere. Whilst Lemuel’s mother was clearly prominent in his education (Prov 31), and some education seems to have taken place at the knees of both mother and father (e. g. Prov 1:8, 4:1–4, and 6:20), a tradition of a more formal education amongst scribal families or in schools seems likely. Whilst we have no historical record of schools in ancient Israel, that does not mean that they did not exist, either just in Jerusalem probably attached to the court, or in other main centers too. We also have comparative evidence from the ancient Near East of schools in Egypt where scribes learnt their craft and also of schools (or edubba, tablet houses) in ancient Sumer where writing took place. How far we should extrapolate from one context in the ancient Near East to another is a debatable point, but it does seem likely that similar structures may have functioned in similar ways, 28 and Prov 22:17–24:22 with its possible “borrowing” from Amenemopet strengthens this supposition. 29 It seems likely that the “sages” were a subgroup of the scribes, i. e. most sages were also scribes (even if they didn’t perform the formal tasks of a scribe), but not all scribes were sages. The sages were probably the elite of the scribes, having a function well beyond simply writing. It is possible that they had important administrative and political roles at the royal court (following Egyptian parallels again) and the likelihood that they would have been trained to a higher educational level, possibly in a court school, is high. It was they who wrote down the proverbial material in a creative manner and who were the compilers, if not the authors, of certain sections of the work (‫ חכם‬is mentioned 40 times in Proverbs). They may well have been responsible for the writing of other “wisdom-influenced” material (whilst the copying work of the scribes was probably not restricted to wisdom literature). If they did mainly reside at court, then the ascription of court narratives that show wisdom influence such as the Succession Narrative (2 Sam 20–1 Kgs 2) to their pen is likely. Their influence may also have extended into other genres of material such as prophecy, narrative and psalms. Evidence for their existence is found in Jeremiah (8:8–9) where 28  A. Lemaire: Les écoles et la formation de la Bible dans l’ancien Israel, OBO 39, Göttingen 1981, builds his theory of schools in ancient Israel upon the supposition of this parallel. Given that most literature in the ancient Near East was copied and transmitted in scribal schools and wisdom literature was composed at least in part to be used as textbooks in schools, this, he argues, would suggest that the early wisdom literature of Israel was also composed in scribal schools and some of it used as textbooks. He writes in The Sage in School and Temple, “Even if a wisdom text may be didactic and used as a textbook, not all didactic texts are wisdom texts” (168). Lemaire’s definition of a school is broad, from private house to public building or place or even a setting in the open air. I am using “school” in the sense of an indoor designated teaching area. 29  U. Skladny: Die ältesten Spruchsammlungen in Israel, went further and saw the whole of Prov 16:1–22:16 as an instruction composed for the education of the sons of royal officials.



Scribes, Sages and Seers in the First Temple

131

“the wise” (‫ )חכמים‬are mentioned arguably as a separate group to prophets and priests and are highly criticized in their alignment to “the false pen of the scribes” (‫ )ספרים‬and by their rejection of the word of the Lord. This suggests a possible known group at the exilic period. This raises the question: did that extend back into the earlier pre-exilic, First Temple period? Finally, the seer represents an overlap between sage and prophet. This is a sage who is not only wise, but also who has hidden knowledge of past, present, and future. Something of this is perhaps found in the role of Joseph as interpreter of dreams as portrayed in the Joseph narrative, another contender for the wisdom genre, and in other characters who have dreams that reveal wisdom to them. There may be other links in the broader religious context of the wisdom material, as represented for example by the wisdom psalms e. g. Daniel, or in the overlap between school and temple. The seeds of this branch of “wise man” may have been planted in the First Temple period, but did not take root and flower until after the Exile. The term “wise man” is often used because it is assumed that it is entirely men who are being discussed here – they were the ones with the power and with the educational opportunities. Whilst this is largely true, we have already seen how parts of the wisdom literature appear to elevate the female role in both positive (Prov 8 and 31) and negative ways (Prov 7, 9). Some suggestions have been made by scholars regarding texts that could be authored by women, notably Ruth, often seen as a women’s story,30 and the Song of Songs in which the dominant speaker is female.31 Whether we can posit fully fledged authorship by women or simply “women’s voices”32 in these and other texts is debatable. If there were female authors of texts, that would raise interesting possibilities of women’s inclusion in wisdom’s educational circles. It may be that some women rose to prominence within scribal families on a local level. We find two wise women described in 2 Samuel (14 and 20) who use proverbs as part of their arguments (16:23, 17:8, 10–12) in order to persuade.33 Demsky34 posits that women raised at court assumed 30  E. Campbell: Ruth, (AB 7), Garden City, NY 1975, suggests that Ruth was written by a woman; cf. P. Trible: God and the Rhetoric of Sexuality, Philadelphia 1978, 166–199. 31  A strong female voice in the text is probably as far as one can go in the direction of female authorship of this book. 32  Cf. A. Brenner/F. van Dijk-Hemmes: On Gendering Texts, Female and Male Voices in the Hebrew Bible, Biblical Interpretation Series 1, Leiden 1993. 33  See C. Camp: The Female Sage in the Biblical Wisdom Literature, in: The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, 185–203. She writes of these two women, “From this verbal acumen, and from the overall skill and authority with which the women accomplish their sensitive tasks, we should infer a significant degree of training and experience in positions of leadership” (188). She argues that it is wrong to make an absolute distinction between family wisdom and political wisdom and that these examples show the overlap between the two. There is also mention of a visit to a medium in 1 Sam 28 who could be seen as a wise woman in the seer category. 34  See Demsky: Education in the Biblical Period, cols. 397–398, on the education of women.

132

Katharine Dell

positions of importance and that they may have had some formal education. Some had personal property (the unnamed woman in 2 Kgs 4:8). He suggests that women may have known writing and calculation, but evidence is lacking. Whilst the social context of scribes, sages and seers is shadowy, that of their female equivalents is even more so.

Scribes in the Israelite Bureaucracy With the advent of a monarchy in Israel there was an increased emphasis on statehood and national identity. Although scribes may have existed prior to David (and Judg 8:14 may be evidence of just such a reference), 35 the profession would have mushroomed with a stable court life. Stories about kings and their heroic deeds needed to be recorded both to strengthen and proclaim their power in the present and to keep an account of their deeds for posterity. Under King David a settled court life may have started to emerge,36 and there are certainly stories recorded about his rise to power (the history of David’s rise in 1 Sam 16:1–2 Sam 5:10),37 which must have been penned by scribes, but it is generally thought that it was King Solomon who was able to consolidate it and under whom there would have been more of the trappings of statehood.38 Scholars have spoken of a Solomonic 35  H.-J. Hermisson: Studien zur israelitischen Spruchweisheit, WMANT 28, NeukirchenVluyn 1968. 36  Much of this discussion looks to Egypt for parallels, but it must be remembered that much of the Davidic bureaucracy was based on local Canaanite models (1 Sam 8:11–18). 37  Isolated as a separate narrative by L. Rost: The Succession to the Throne of David, Historic Texts and Interpreters in Biblical Scholarship 1, Sheffield 1982, 6–34. 38  R. Whybray in Wisdom Literature in the Reigns of David and Solomon raised the question of whether one can really be so specific about dating material to either Solomon’s reign alone or even to the period of the United Monarchy. He notes that even von Rad, who suggested the Solomonic Enlightenment theory (The Beginnings of Historical Writing in Ancient Israel, in: The Problem of the Hexateuch and Other Essays, London 1984, 166–204) and ascribed other court narratives to that period, retracted his statement slightly to speak of “the early monarchy” in his later work on wisdom (Wisdom in Israel, London 1972). Whybray points out that Egyptian cultural influence, whilst it might have happened during the period of David and Solomon, cannot be confined to it (there is evidence for it in the reign of Hezekiah, e. g. in Isaiah’s mention of over reliance on Egypt (Isa 20:1–6, 30:1–7, and 31:1). He is also nervous of seeing too swift a cultural revolution at a specific point in time. He demonstrates that von Rad’s theory was based on the character of the court narratives that were isolated as being essentially different from the sagas about the Judges that precede them in the Deuteronomistic History. These narratives were seen as more sophisticated literature written shortly after the events they described. The theory was then applied to Prov 10–29 which as a whole, was then seen to emanate from the Solomonic court with its wisdom schools. This was clearly an overstatement. He does however note elsewhere (The Sage in Israelite Royal Court, in: The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, 133–139) that no Israelite king other than David (2 Sam 14:20) and Solomon was specifically credited



Scribes, Sages and Seers in the First Temple

133

enlightenment,39 a time when Solomon’s court may well have been a major center of scribal activity and a context in which sages could also flourish with an awakening interest in intellectual life in the broadest sense. We know of Solomon’s international contacts (notably the visit of the Queen of Sheba – 1 Kgs 10:1–13) and of his efforts at taxation (which made him unpopular, 2 Sam 7)40 It is likely that he encouraged contact with the wisdom of Egypt – he is said to have enjoyed riddling with the Queen of Sheba41 and is described as being expert in nature wisdom (1 Kgs 4:29–34). He may have taxed the nation in order to furnish his court structures, his administrators, politicians, sages, and scribes. Brueggemann suggests that political and economic factors should be foremost in our minds when looking at the significance of Solomon as a patron of wisdom. He sees the significance of Solomon as a “novum” in history, “That is, Solomon is not simply a historical person, but something of a sociocultural mutation in Israel” (p. 129). He argues that whilst von Rad phrased this “novum” in terms of an “enlightenment” and saw it largely in terms of the production of literature, it was more about power shifts in public life, politics, social structures and about an economic surplus. Heaton, looking at Egyptian parallels, identified an elaborate number of roles at Solomon’s court42 and amongst them was that of the scribe. It is they, he argued, who would have compiled the “Annals of Solomon” (1 Kgs 3–11), telling of Solomon’s character and achievements from an entirely positive angle. Heaton writes, “The material of these chapters has a good claim to be accepted as the work of the professional scribes of Solomon’s court. Indeed, the bulk of it appears to derive directly from their official archives.”43 He sees the list of the king’s officers and regional governors in with wisdom in the Old Testament. Oddly, royal advisors are not described as such (except Egyptian ones in Isa 19:11–12!). 39  Coined by von Rad. “Enlightenment” has generally been seen as an unfortunate term to have used given the overtones of the eighteenth century European enlightenment, which had an entirely different character. 40  See the article by R. Clements: The Deuteronomistic Interpretation of the Founding of the Monarchy in 1 Samuel 8, VT 24 (1974), 398–410, on how this list of the kinds of misdeeds kings might promote probably refers to King Solomon’s actual deeds. 41  Brueggemann in The Social Significance of Solomon as a Patron of Wisdom suggests that the portrayal of competing royal figures such as Solomon and the Queen of Sheba was court propaganda stressing Solomon’s power and wealth and his influence on the international stage. This was part of a wider purpose of legitimization of the monarchy. 42  The king clearly received advice from all kinds of people: army commanders, prophets, priests and so on (see 1 Kgs 4:1–6 for a list of Solomon’s advisors). None of these officially bore the title “wise man” or “sage,” but no doubt they were full of wise and commonsense advice. Prov 11:14, 15:22, and 24:6 suggest that successful policy-making, in military matters in particular, depends upon a multiplicity of counselors. 43  E. Heaton: Solomon’s New Men. The Emergence of Israel as a National State, London 1974, 15. R. Scott: Solomon and the Beginnings of Wisdom in Israel, saw this narrative as coming from the time of Hezekiah.

134

Katharine Dell

4:1–19 as an example; also the description of provisions for palace and army (4:22–28), the agreement with Tyre over supplying timber (5:1–18, 9:10–14) and so on.44 He further notes that there are more dramatic scenes in the Annals, such as Solomon’s judging between two women claiming a child as theirs. He argues that these too could be the work of professional scribes. He writes, “To judge by Egyptian precedents, the professional scribes of Solomon’s court would have been as adept in portraying dramatic scenes as in compiling administrative data and, as educated men charged with executive tasks, would not have differentiated as sharply as we are tempted to do between ‘cultural’ and ‘practical’ expertise.”45 This highlights the problem of knowing when the role of the scribe ended and where that of the sage began. Heaton here is using “scribes” in the sense of wisdom experts and hence perhaps closer to what we might now describe as a sage. It seems likely, however, that the compiling of lists of provisions and so on would be likely to be a scribal activity. It may have been the sages who worked such material into a wider context. We often speak of different groups of writers, such as the Deuteronomists, who gave a framework to these already existing short “histories” of various kings – were they also scribes? It is difficult to know whether we should classify all writers of biblical texts as scribes in the sense that they wrote the material down. The question is really whether the further ideological and theological shaping that we find in the Deuteronomistic History can be attributed to such a scribal group. It is possible that scribes may have been responsible for the writing down of court narratives. So a particular claim has been made for the Succession Narrative in 2 Sam 20–1 Kgs 2 as showing wisdom influence. There is an emphasis on human intrigue with God very much at the edge of the picture, behind the scenes, directing the action. There is mention of two royal counselors, Ahitophel and Hushai.46 This theory was, again, propounded by von Rad, but developed most convincingly by Whybray. Whybray argued that the Succession Narrative was an attempt to teach the doctrines of the wisdom schools in a dramatized form and that it was a product of the Solomonic enlightenment, a combination of propagandist political novel 44  His other examples are “a detailed and quite secular description of the Temple building, its decoration and fittings (6:2–10, 15–38, and 7:13–47); an account of the construction of the palace and other royal buildings in Jerusalem (7:1–12); a note of the royal cities built outside Jerusalem (9:15–19); an item about foreign captives and their reduction to perpetual forced labor (9:20–33); a record of the establishment of a merchant fleet in the Red Sea (9:26–28); and a miscellaneous catalogue of trading and other royal enterprises intended to redound to Solomon’s greater glory (10:14–29)” (15–16). 45  Ibid, 16. 46  The “counselor” was clearly a close advisor to the king, although the overlap between this role and those of scribe or sage or even prophet is not clear.



Scribes, Sages and Seers in the First Temple

135

and wisdom instruction. His argument was largely based on the noting of parallels of genre with Egypt, notably with the Instruction of Amenemhet and the Story of Sinuhe and with the Egyptian royal novel genre. Furthermore, he likened the Succession Narrative to the autobiographical narrative form found in Israelite wisdom (e. g. Prov 7:6–9) and also pointed to wisdom forms such as the simile and comparison. He found themes of wisdom, of folly, an emphasis on counsel, retribution and on Yahweh as in ultimate control. He writes, “There seem to be good grounds for concluding that on many fundamental matters – the importance attached to human wisdom and counsel both in public and private affairs; the acknowledgement of their limitations and of the unseen, the all-embracing purpose of God and of his retributive justice; the relatively small attention paid to the cult; and the stress on the importance of ethical conduct, humility and private prayer – the Succession Narrative agrees closely with the scribal wisdom literature as represented by Proverbs rather than with the sacral tradition of Israel” (p. 71). Other contenders are the J document of the Pentateuch,47 possibly written at the time of the United Monarchy as a collection of ancient traditions and glorifying human achievement, and the history of David’s rise, an apologetic for David defending his claims to the throne (possibly against those who accused him of usurping Saul and his line). It follows the course of David’s life from the time Saul receives him at court, through his persecution by the king, his life as an adventurer, his vassalage in the service of the Philistines, and finally the death of Saul and Ishbaal, which opens the way for him to become king of Judah and over Israel. Another contender is the Annals of Solomon, as previously mentioned. There is a problem of finding criteria here. It is possible that the terms of reference for a “scribe” are broader than the terms of reference for “wisdom influence.” When we refer to the latter we are perhaps looking more specifically for the work of sages rather than scribes. I mentioned the “men of Hezekiah” in Prov 25:1 who “copied the proverbs of Solomon.” Note that these “men” are not described as “wise men.” Are these men scribes at the royal court?48 Was the work of scribes more 47  Wisdom links have been especially found in Gen 1–11, partly in the linkup between creation ideas and the wisdom world view that sees God as creator, but also on other grounds such as the emphasis in the Yahwist on the human condition (in Gen 2–3) (see L. AlonsoSchökel: Sapiential and Covenant Themes in Genesis 2–3, in: J. Crenshaw [ed.], Studies in Ancient Israelite Wisdom, New York 1976, 468–480), a concern with creation, order and human responsibility (in Gen 4–11) (see W. Brueggemann: In Man We Trust, Richmond, VA 1972); and a parallel to the story of the fall in the Babel material (in Gen 11) (see R. Whybray: The Intellectual Tradition in the Old Testament [BZAW 135], Berlin 1974). 48  It should be noted that this is the only direct indication of a connection between the royal court and the wisdom literature, apart from the attribution of Proverbs to Solomon. Prov 22:17 and 24:23 mention “the words/sayings of the wise,” but do not refer to the presence of such wise men at a royal court.

136

Katharine Dell

that of “copying” rather than creative writing? Were they essentially recorders, lower level administrators in the court and beyond? It is worth noting that in ancient Sumer scribes had an archival function of recording significant events on tablets. It may well be that this is a major component of the role of the scribe in the Israelite court – the preservation of the traditions of the past in written form, the recording of events of the present, including the keeping of records and lists, and the writing of documents for posterity. From Egypt, we have an interesting painting from a Theban tomb of a “Scribe keeping account of the corn of Amun.” It looks as though this scribe is a temple official (Dynasty XVIII). The scribe, with a papyrus roll under his arm and a palette in his hand, is registering the geese brought as tax, and the farmers are queuing up to prostrate themselves.49 It seems here that the Egyptian scribe had some considerable status, but also that there may have been scribes in other contexts than the court, in the temple for example, as in this case. Or maybe there was no real division between religious and secular life when it came to the central administration. There is perhaps a reminder here of the administrative roles of the “king’s secretary”50 and high priest described in 2 Kgs 12:10 and the man with the writing case in Ezek 9:2, 11. One famous scribe in the Old Testament is Jeremiah’s scribe, Baruch, who took dictation from the prophet and read documents aloud in public in the prophet’s absence (Jer 36:4–18). This activity seems primarily to have happened in the temple and raises the possibility of temple scribes existing alongside scribes at the royal court. Whybray suggests that the two groups were probably responsible for differing kinds of writing but also in many ways indistinguishable in the inevitable overlap between genres and roles. He writes, Much of the literature composed during the period of the Monarchy was the work of either the royal or the priestly scribes. The main types of literature that may safely be attributed to this period are annals and historical narratives, poetry (especially psalms), laws and cultic material such as the description of the Temple in I Kings 6, and wisdom literature such as is now extant in the Book of Proverbs. Psalms, laws and other cultic material are probably of priestly origin, See Heaton: Solomon’s New Men, 69. R. Whybray writes of “the scribe” or “the king’s scribe:” “These men were presumably the heads of the royal scribal establishment; but they themselves were chosen for their political ability. Under them, the scribal establishment handled the administration of the government.” (The Sage in the Israelite Royal Court, 137). Whilst this seems to me to be a slight overstatement given the lack of evidence, he also makes the more moderate point that there is evidence that other high officials also had scribal training, such as Jonathan, David’s uncle, who is described in the admittedly late text of 1 Chr 27:32 as “a counselor, being a man of understanding and a scribe.” In Chronicles priests often assume trusted positions in the governments of David and Solomon (e. g. 1 Chr 26:30–32), but this may be Chronistic propaganda. 49 

50 



Scribes, Sages and Seers in the First Temple

137

although the lack of information provided by the texts themselves about their authorship makes it impossible to draw a sharp distinction.51

He draws attention to the writing of annals, which he sees as having been drawn upon and expanded by the Deuteronomists in the writing of their history (e. g. 2 Kgs 15:1–16:4). We might recall the lost books of the chronicles of the Kings of Judah and Israel referred to in 2 Kgs 15:6, which were probably just these kinds of annals. The Succession Narrative and annals of Solomon were probably similarly separate narratives – this time more sophisticated court narratives – incorporated into a wider framework over time. Whybray52 continues, “The historical books of the Old Testament testify to an immense capability of the royal scribes for historical writing.”53

Sages in the Israelite Courts Solomon was a wise king par excellence and was, no doubt, a role model for sages working under him. Perhaps that is why the piece in 1 Kgs 3–11 is so uncritical of him. Sages were clearly also involved in the compilation of the kinds of writing mentioned when considering scribes, but it is possible that they were on the more creative end of the procedure: authors and compilers rather than redactors and copyists. Given the wide range of genres in the Old Testament that display wisdom influence, including psalms and prophecy, it is likely that their influence was pervasive in the shaping of material. Another role model for sages may have been Hezekiah under whom perhaps there was a resurgence of interest in the wisdom enterprise (and the Chronicler portrays him as a second Solomon in his concern with the temple (2 Chr 29–32) and in the description of his God-given wealth (2 Chr 27–33)). There would certainly have been many sages in royal administrative roles, advising kings on military and political decisions or on foreign affairs (although we have already noted the overlap in roles as described in 1 Kgs 4:1–6). According to Brueggemann’s model of the Solomonic state, the sages were those who preached the ideology, managed the state and policy formation, and educated the young. The creation of a state regime allowed Solomon to encourage an intellectual climate rivaling the Egyptian (Prov 4:30–31), to harness fresh energy in a new class of intelligentsia (the sages) to understand and control the world in a knowable order (the worldview of the book of Proverbs). Brueggemann writes, “The sages in the The Sage in the Israelite Royal Court, 137. The Sage in the Israelite Royal Court, 133–139. 53  Ibid, 137. 51 

52 

138

Katharine Dell

service of Solomon may have exercised at times both emancipatory and ideological functions, on the one hand channeling the energies of the regime in bold exploratory directions, on the other hand justifying present arrangements.”54 Brueggemann makes a direct link between the ethical reflections of the wise and the policies of Solomon’s administrators. I wonder if indeed the alignment was so close and whether we are to speak of the wisdom writers and administrators in the same breath. Lemaire55 makes a similar link when he aligns the function of schools in neighboring cultures which “appear to have originated from the need to train scribes to work in government bureaucracies” with their function in Israel. He also sees teachers in the schools as the leaders of Israelite society. He writes, “Teachers in the royal school were probably experienced officials who transmitted both traditional teaching and their own experience.”56 This is an alignment which I would also question on the grounds of lack of evidence from the Israelite context itself. Those performing these varied functions may have belonged to the same group of “sages,” in which case we need to regard the office in quite a broad manner. Clearly sages performed a variety of different functions, but this does not mean that all sages, or even any, fulfilled both. The size and scale of the Solomonic court might affect such conclusions – another unknown factor, although it is likely to have been fairly small by comparison to the more lavish Egyptian parallels. Sages may have been represented at royal courts outside Israel. In that connection Joseph (as portrayed in Gen 37–50) may have been another role model for the sages. He was the maltreated brother who rose to great prominence at the Egyptian court and became the right hand man to Pharaoh himself. He may have represented the ideal of the wise man, who succeeded according to his own merits, who planned ahead in order to counter adversity, and who kept his cool in the presence of his trickster brothers. Some scholars, especially Gerhard von Rad,57 saw wisdom connections in this narrative. Von Rad’s criteria for the inclusion of this narrative as wisdom were the strong emphasis on human achievement in the narrative, “a delight in all things foreign” (p.  293), and the main feature of an Israelite rising to power in an Egyptian court. Joseph is one who is described as possessing ideals of the wisdom writers such as patience, 54  Brueggemann: The Social Significance of Solomon as a Patron of Wisdom, 128. He also acknowledges the possibility of such a neat view of the world and its order from creation down to social arrangements might have led to inequity and exploitation as a result of the “system.” He describes the Solomonic state as a “naive, uncritical theodic settlement” which invited a crisis concerning divine justice as represented in 1 Kgs 4:20–28 and 1 Kgs 11–12, the relativizing work of the Deuteronomic historians. 55  Lemaire: The Sage in School and Temple, 169. 56  Ibid, 174. 57  G. von Rad: The Joseph Narrative and Ancient Wisdom, 292–300.



Scribes, Sages and Seers in the First Temple

139

prudence and the fear of the Lord. The question is raised as to how far this is a historical portrayal of Joseph or how much we are seeing the royal propagandist machine of a later time in action. Even so, it could be seen as an independent wisdom novella, which may have found its place in the Israelite court. Thus, there are prominent role models for the sages of Israel in Solomon, Hezekiah and Joseph. What picture of the sage do we glean from the wisdom literature itself? Perhaps the most obvious role is the teaching one. Prov 1–9 in particular uses the instruction form known to us from Egypt to educate young men in the ways of wisdom.58 Although these are represented as the words of father and mother to a son, these nomenclatures have often been seen as interchangeable with teacher and pupil in a school setting. There is much here that is a training for life, in dealings with others, in good communication, in the avoidance of tricksters and evil men, in the quest for a suitable wife, and in the warning against profligate women. All these topics and more are treated in the instruction texts. Then in the main body of Proverbs, some of the same and further topics are all raised in pithy, maxim form, the fruits of many generations of experience, used to teach and instruct and to guide those lacking that experience. Pupils would not just have learnt the moral content of these sayings, but also would have learnt to write by copying out sections by hand (cf. Amenemopet and Prov 22:17–24:22). One of the topics briefly covered in the Proverbs is etiquette in the presence of a king – this could be a general reference or a specific reference to court life (e. g. Prov 14:25, 16:14–15, 19:12, 22:11, and 25:6–7, 15 might suggest access to the king).59 If the latter it would be a small insight into the kinds of skills a court advisor might need: never rouse the king’s anger (Prov 19:12), for it is like the growling of a lion or even worse since the king has power over life and death! The context in which education took place is uncertain, although the possibility of a court school in Jerusalem is a strong one. This would have been a center of training for sages and scribes as well as a forum for the teaching of youngsters by elders. Only a fairly large state could support a school structure and indeed provide the “literati” with the time and opportunity to write and record material. This makes it likely, again, that in Israel it is in the Solomonic state that such a school structure would have first existed (even if that state were small by Egyptian standards). It is likely that it would have continued throughout the period of the monarchy. We 58  Prov 1:8–7:27, i. e. 1:8–19, 2:1–22, 3:1–12, 3:21–35, 4:1–9, 4:10–19, 4:20–27, 5:1–23, 6:20– 35, and 7:1–27 on Whybray’s model (see R. Whybray: Proverbs [New Century Bible Commentary], London 1994). 59  See K. Dell: The King in the Wisdom Literature, King and Messiah in Israel and the Ancient Near East, in: J. Day (ed.), JSOTSup 270, Sheffield 1998, 163–186, on royal references and argument that they need not indicate a court setting.

140

Katharine Dell

have no archaeological evidence to that effect, however.60 Our main source of evidence is ancient Near Eastern parallels, the tablet houses and schoolrooms of ancient Mesopotamia and the school setting of the instruction texts in ancient Egypt. In fact some of the original sages may have learnt their skills in foreign courts such as Egypt. Whether there were schools in other large centers within Israel is possible, but not proven. Whether reading and writing were taught within scribal families (e. g. that of Shaphan, mentioned in Jer 36:10 and 2 Kgs 22), or even families of sages, is another possibility. In any case, however they learnt to become “the wise,” the sages certainly wished to continue the level of education they had achieved in the training of the young to continue their work. The presence of wisdom genres elsewhere in the Old Testament might suggest that although the sages had a specific set of roles and a particular link with the wisdom literature, it would be wrong to restrict their roles to just court and school and only to wisdom literature. Rather than seeing sages in one corner, priests in another, and judges in yet another, perhaps we should see more interchange between roles.61 The presence of wisdom psalms in the Psalter might suggest an involvement of the sages in the production of such cultic literature and in the life of the temple.62 There are also hints of cultic interest in Proverbs itself.63 Some scholars have suggested a possible redaction of the Psalter as a whole by sages, largely in an editing role (e. g. Psalm 1 at the head of the Psalter).64 Others have seen wisdom 60  Most of the archaeological evidence of written material is later, from the eighth century onwards. See the discussion in G. Davies: Were there Schools in Ancient Israel?, in: J. Day/R. Gordon/H. Williamson (eds.), Wisdom in Ancient Israel: Essays in Honour of J. A. Emerton, Cambridge 1995, 199–211. 61  This links up with the problem of whether all sages fulfilled the same functions, or whether this is in fact an umbrella term for various types of post and role. 62  H. Jansen: Die Spätjüdische Psalmendichtung ihr Entstehungskreis und ihr ‘Sitz im Leben,’ SNVAO 3, Oslo 1937, postulated the existence of a wisdom school attached to the temple at which professional wise men composed psalms for devotional and instructional purposes. H. Gunkel: Einleitung in die Psalmen: die Gattungen der religiösen Lyrik Israels, Tübingen 1933, suggested that wisdom literature was sufficiently popular amongst the masses that priests and singers deliberately composed psalms in that style. But Jansen doubted the ability of the priests and singers to compose wisdom literature. Jansen postulated the existence of a wisdom school attached to the temple at which professional wise men composed psalms for devotion and instruction. 63  Notably Prov 3:9–10. See L. Perdue: Wisdom and Cult: A Critical Analysis of the Views of Cult in the Wisdom Literatures of Israel and the Ancient Near East, SBLDS 30, Missoula, MT 1977. 64  So S. Mowinckel: Psalms and Wisdom, in: M. Noth/D. Thomas (eds.), Wisdom in Israel and in the Ancient Near East (VTSup 3), Leiden 1955, 205–244, saw the wisdom writers as having edited the Psalter and included “non-cultic” wisdom psalms in the process. R. Murphy: A Consideration of the Classification “Wisdom Psalms”, VTSup 9 (1962), 156–167, in contrast, argued for a cultic usage for wisdom psalms. See the discussion in K. Dell: “I will solve my riddle to the music of the lyre” (Ps 49:4[5]): A cultic setting for wisdom psalms?,



Scribes, Sages and Seers in the First Temple

141

ideas in certain psalms and other “whole” wisdom psalms as indicating a particular contribution by this group. Whilst most wisdom psalms are seen as exilic or early post-exilic and probably do not fall into our remit of consideration, it is possible that the involvement of sages in the production of such literature began before the end of the monarchic period. As they had a role in the collection of other material, so possibly they also had one in relation to the Psalter. Another dimension to the possibility of a temple connection for wisdom is pointed out by Lemaire 65 when he airs the idea of royal schools not only in the palace but in the temple. He notes that schools, libraries and temples are closely associated in Egypt. He suggests that the discovery of the book of the law (Deuteronomy) in the temple in 2 Kgs 22 might hint at a library in a room of the Jerusalem temple where archives and literary texts might have been stored. He notes links of Deuteronomy with wisdom (and the not anti-cultic character of wisdom) 66 and suggests that these temple rooms might have been associated with the office of scribe since Shaphan and Elishama are described as scribes and Shaphan was one of those who found the book. He asks whether teaching might have taken place there, and he sees temple scribes as responsible for the writing of wisdom psalms. Similarly in the prophetic material there are occasional hints of wisdom genres. This may mean that prophets were trained in wisdom schools, e. g. Isaiah who seems to have combined the role of counselor to the King and prophet, was upper class, and used plenty of wisdom forms.67 Or it may mean simply that they were familiar with wisdom’s genres. Or indeed sages may have had an input in the production of prophetic books at a redactional level, or even an influence upon them in a more formative stage. It depends partly on how literate prophets were themselves, or how far they relied on others to transmit their work. As already mentioned, there is evidence that Jeremiah had a scribe, Baruch, working for him,68 and so there may have been more overlap between the “genres” and their accompanying social settings due to social necessity than is often acknowledged. As for law, it may be that sages again left their mark on the transmission of legal codes – familiarity with legal terminology in the book of Job may VT 54/4 (2004), 445–458. R. Whybray: Reading the Psalms as a Book, JSOTSup 222, Sheffield 1996, also aired ideas of wisdom as an overall redaction for the Psalter, but ultimately rejected the idea. 65  Lemaire: The Sage in School and Temple. 66  Lemaire: The Sage in School and Temple, makes a careful distinction between the D and P traditions and does not wish to suggest that P traditions would have been preserved in such temple schools. 67  See discussion in J. Whedbee: Isaiah and Wisdom, New York 1971. 68  Jeremiah also lists chief priests among the high officers of state, suggesting a courttemple link.

142

Katharine Dell

provide evidence of a link (in Job 29–31 in particular). In narrative genres, sages may well have been involved in the crafting and writing of books – some in the writings section such as Ruth have sometimes been seen to have been influenced by wisdom ideology.69 The Song of Songs in its attribution to Solomon and frequent mention of the king also shows close connections with the world of the sages.70 The general admonitions, rather than the specific speeches of man and woman in the Song, may provide evidence of a wisdom redaction on the work. Finally, we have evidence from a later wisdom text (190–175 B. C. E.) of the role of the sage. Sirach 38:24–39:11 suggests that sages played an important role in shaping the wisdom tradition itself. Sir 38:24 mentions the fact that only those with little “business” can become wise, “The wisdom of the scribe depends on the opportunity of leisure; only the one who has little business can become wise. How can one become wise who handles the plow, and who glories in the shaft of a goad, who drives oxen and is occupied with their work, and whose talk is about bulls?” Sir 39:1–5 makes a fascinating link between the work of the scribe and law and prophecy and the preservation of sayings, also indicating that the scribe had a position of power, possessed opportunities for foreign travel, and placed importance on religious devotion in his day: How different the one who devotes himself to the study of the law of the Most High! He seeks out the wisdom of all the ancients, and is concerned with prophecies; he preserves the sayings of the famous and penetrates the subtleties of parables; he seeks out the hidden meanings of proverbs and is at home with the obscurities of parables. He serves among the great and appears before rulers; he travels in foreign lands and learns what is good and evil in the human lot. He sets his heart to rise early to seek the Lord who made him, and to petition the Most High; he opens his mouth in prayer and asks pardon for his sins.” (Sir 39:1–5)

Sir 51:23 mentions that “Ben Sira was a teacher in his own school.” If only this evidence were available for the First Temple period! Whether the later evidence suggests a continuing tradition from earlier cannot be assumed. Hints in Ecclesiastes (3rd century) are more vague (Qoh 12:9) but do suggest, again, that Israelite wisdom may have been taught in a school by sages. 69  Ruth’s universalistic perspective and emphasis on divine action to reward good are two aspects of Ruth that would seem to link to the wisdom perspective. Also, if one argues for an early date of writing for the book after the period of the Judges, then the reign of Solomon would be a possibility. 70  See K. Dell: Does the Song of Songs have any connections to wisdom?, in: A. Hagedorn (ed.), Persepectives on the Song of Songs (BZAW 346), Berlin 2005, 8–26.



Scribes, Sages and Seers in the First Temple

143

Seers/Mantic Sages in First Temple Judah In connection with this wider role for sages, it is possible that some of them had an interest in hidden secrets and dreams. The role model of Joseph is an interesting one as it is through dreams that he has the foresight to prevent catastrophe. So he interprets Pharaoh’s dreams of seven fat and seven thin cows and of seven good ears of corn and seven thin, blighted ones (Gen 41) and is able to make provision for famine in the years of plenty. He also interprets the dreams of the prisoners in Gen 40. His success in dream interpretation leads directly to his rise to power. Also Solomon himself has an inaugural dream71 and in that context prays for wisdom in order to govern (1 Kgs 3:13–14). Similar is the case of Daniel who is also sometimes regarded as a wise man. If wisdom is seen primarily as an acquired skill and hence applicable to a variety of specialized occupations, magic and divination might well be seen as part of them (Dan 1:20) and the interpretation of dreams another (Gen 41:8).72 The idea of wisdom containing secret knowledge is not found in Proverbs, except that the figure of wisdom bridges the gap between human and divine knowledge. In Job the hymn to wisdom in chapter 28 suggests that there is much that is hidden to human knowledge and yet is known by God. Whether these hints translate into any social role for seers is hard to know in the period of First Temple Judah.73 It seems to have been essentially a later development within the wisdom tradition.

Conclusion In conclusion we come full circle back to Solomon at whose court and under whose inspiration it is likely that the world of sages, scribes, and seers took on a greater momentum and found their proper and significant place in Israelite life. The exact nature of the functions of each remains uncertain, but the categories are probably umbrella terms for numerous courtly and educational functions performed at the royal court, in the royal temple and beyond. We are hampered by lack of evidence from the 71  See H. Kenik: Design for Kingship, SBLDS 69, Chico, CA 1985 on the genre of ‘inaugural dream’. 72  H.-P. Müller: Mantische Weisheit und Apokalyptik, Congress Volume: Uppsala 1971, VTS 22; Leiden 1972, 268–293. 73  Scribes and sages in ancient Mesopotamia seem to have had a special concern with divination – notably with predicting the future for the King as well as for private citizens, on the basis of elaborate textbooks (see the discussion in A. L. Oppenheim: The position of the intellectual in Mesopotamian society, Daedalus: Journal of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences [1975], 37–46).

144

Katharine Dell

Bible itself, but we have gleaned much about social structures from key ancient Near Eastern parallels. It is likely that the First Temple Period was the heyday of the sages who were immediately answerable to the king and who administered at least a royal wisdom school if not more. It is likely that scribes were more continuously needed before, during, and after the period of monarchy. Roles changed and that of seer seems to be one that gradually emerged more prominently in the Second Temple period. The roots of such roles however may have existed in those of their predecessors in court and temple. With the loss of these great institutions of First Temple Israel at the Exile, much changed in both the religious and social settings. However, the writings of earlier scribes and sages were preserved and contain echoes of the life, work, and ideas of these elusive figures that first found their most significant roles in the Solomonic era.

VI. Scribes, Sages, and Seers in Second Temple Judah Konrad Schmid

The Authors of Job and Their Historical and Social Setting Introduction The shortest answer to the question of who wrote the Book of Job and when and where it was written was most likely given by F. Horst: “We do not know who wrote this from his heart, nor where and when (probably in the Persian era).”1 The question is further complicated by the fact that the majority of exegetes assume not one, but several individuals working in different time periods behind the composition of the Book of Job. Still, cautious judgement is but one of many virtues when working historically. It is just as important for historical scholarship to present well argued reconstructions. The Book of Job does seem to lack transparency in regards to the social and historical contexts of its authors. Nevertheless, we may make certain observations and limitations and thus move beyond the simple non liquet suggested by F. Horst. The following considerations will focus on the redactional level of the Book of Job, which combined the prose framework and the dialogues. This editorial shape was later extended at least by Job 28 and the Elihu-speeches (Job 32–37), 2 yet the Book’s decisive theological content was created by the connection between the prose framework and the dialogues – no 1  F. Horst: Hiob, BK XVI/1, Neukirchen-Vluyn 1968, xii [translation mine]. See also C. Newsom: Considering Job, HCBR 1 (1993), 87–118, 95: “As everyone knows, the book of Job is extremely difficult to place in a concrete historical context. Its own relation to history is cloaked by the nature of the work itself.” 2  J. Weinberg (Was Elihu, the Son of Barachel, the Author of the Book of Job?, Trans 16 [1998], 149–166) assumes the author of the book stood behind the figure of Elihu; it is, however, more likely that Job 32–37 represents the first orthodox commentator on the book (see E. Knauf: Hiobs Heimat, WO 19 [1988], 65–83; idem/Ph. Guillaume: Job, in: Th. Römer et al. [eds.], Introduction à l’Ancien Testament, MoBi 49, Genève 2004, 501–510). See also the discussion on Job 28 and 32–37 in C. Newsom: Re-considering Job, CBR 5 (2007), 155–182, 161–164, 166–168.

146

Konrad Schmid

matter how one views the origins of this connection diachronically. 3 We could pursue several different paths in the search for answers regarding the historical and social setting of the authors of the book of Job. For one, certain brief individual statements could point to specific institutional or political realities and thus allow the reconstruction of some of the historical and social conditions behind the text. It is also possible to evaluate general conceptual and theological observations in order to reach a judgment about the socio-historical origins and developments of the Book. Both approaches will be used here.

Geographic and Historical Boundaries In searching for indications of the place, time and social setting of the composition of the redactional levels of the book of Job, we must separate intentionally created fictional elements that sketch a certain local milieu from elements that speak to the real historical background of the book.4 The world in which the narrative of the book of Job takes place is not necessarily an indication of the real historical world behind the text. It was possible in antiquity (if not common) to write “historicized” fiction (e. g. Daniel, Judith, and Tobit). Even though there is comparatively little information about the setting of the narrative – the story aims to portray a paradigmatic case when presenting Job – it is possible to determine this setting quite closely: “Job’s fictitious home is north-west Arabia during the time of Nabonid, as pictured by a Palestinian during the Persian era.”5 This setting is supported by word-plays with Arabic (cf. 3:14, 6:18, 11:12, 19:19, and 21:23)6 and certain 3  See the discussion in K. Schmid: Das Hiobproblem und der Hiobprolog, in: M. Oeming/idem, Hiobs Weg. Stationen von Menschen im Leid, BThSt 45, Neukirchen-Vluyn 2001, 9–34. Detailed models of literary growth are, for example, provided by M. Witte (Vom Leiden zur Lehre. Der dritte Redegang [Hiob 21–27] und die Redaktionsgeschichte des Hiobbuches, BZAW 230, Berlin/New York 1994, 19–229), W.-D. Syring (Hiob und sein Anwalt. Die Prosatexte des Hiobbuches und ihre Rolle in seiner Redaktions- und Rezeptionsgeschichte, BZAW 336, Berlin/New York 2004) and J. van Oorschot (Die Entstehung des Hiobbuches, in T. Krüger et al. [eds.], Das Buch Hiob und seine Interpretationen, Beiträge zum Hiob-Symposium auf dem Monte Verità vom 14.–19. August 2005, ATANT 88, Zürich 2007, 165–184, see also the bibliography 166 f n. 8). These, however, are open to debate. 4  See especially E. Knauf: Supplementa Ismaelitica 4. Ijobs Heimat, BN 22 (1983), 26–28; idem: WO 1988; idem: Hiobs multikulturelle Heimat, BiKi 59 (2004), 64–67. 5  Knauf: WO 1988, 68 [translation mine]; see also G. Schmitt: Die Heimat Hiobs, ZDPV 101 (1985), 56–63, 56: “There is one, and only one, situation, in which invasions of the Sabeans (1:15) and the Chaldeans (1:17) could occur within the same locale; this is the time of Nabonidus and the area of Dedan (al-‘Ula) in north-west Arabia, where we indeed find witness to a tribe ‘d by a Safaitic inscription that, unfortunately, cannot be dated precisely” [translation mine]. The inscription can be found in Knauf: BN 1983, 29. 6  Cf. Knauf: WO 1988, 70–71. It is also possible to assume that Job’s origin in “Uz” is also connected to Arabic ‘aud, “change, change of time”.



The Authors of Job and Their Historical and Social Setting

147

Arabic lexemes (6:4,17 and 8:2),7 as well as a knowledge of Arabic culture,8 including clay houses without foundations (4:19,21), the burial practice of erecting stone piles (8:17), cliff inscriptions as legal documents (19:2–249, cf. 21:29), or – within the secondary text Job 28 – the mining of gold (28:6). In addition, the homes of Job’s friends seem to fit this setting as they cover the entire Arabic peninsula:10 Shuach points to the central Euphrates in the north-east,11 Temani can refer either to the Edomite landscape Teman or the oasis Tema, which lies in the north-west12 of the peninsula, and Na’ama13 could point to the south, although this location remains uncertain. The creation of this setting is probably influenced by the basic attitude of the Book, in which the stability of the world, as portrayed, e. g., in the Priestly Code in the Pentateuch, is met with great skepticism. It was an obvious choice to set the Book of Job in the context of the Nabonid era and connect it geographically to the unstable political conditions of the northwest-Arabian area known from this period.14 The fact that these geographical indications point to the fictitious narrative setting of Job and not to the real setting of its author15 seems due to the presence of certain “‘corrupt’ Arabisms”16 and especially due to 7  Cf. Knauf: BiKi 2004, 65. A. Guillaume (see, e. g., his The Arabic Background of the Book of Job, in: F. F. Bruce [ed.], Promise and Fulfilment [FS S. H. Hooke], Edinburgh 1963, 10–127) especially has stressed the Arabic background of Job, although in an exaggerated manner. See the balanced considerations concerning the philological problem of the book Job in: M. Witte: Philologische Notizen zu Hiob 21–27, BZAW 234, Berlin/New York 1995, 1–3. 8  Cf. Knauf: WO 1988, 70 f; id.: BiKi 2004, 64–65. 9  G. Fohrer: Das Buch Hiob, KAT 16, Gütersloh 21989, 317, regards the Behistun inscription as an example. 10  For an alternative suggestion in an Edomite setting, see V. Maag: Hiob. Wandlung und Verarbeitung des Problems in Novelle, Dialogdichtung und Spätfassungen (FRLANT 128), Göttingen 1982, 16–17. 11  Cf. M. Görg: Art. Bildad, NBL I (1991), 295; Knauf: BN 1983, 25 n.  2, referring to S. Parpola: Neu-Assyrian Toponyms, AOAT 6, Kevelaer/Neukirchen-Vluyn 1970, 316. 12  Cf. E. Knauf: Art. Tema/Teman/Temanite, ABD VI (1992), 344–348; E. Knauf: Art. Tema/Teman, NBL III (2001), 799; Knauf: BiKi 2004, 65 n. 11. 13  Cf. E. Knauf: Art. Zofar, NBL III (2001), 1224; Knauf: BN 1983, 25 n. 5; id.: BiKi 2004, 65 n. 11. 14  Knauf: WO 1988, 69, points to the ruin of Edom and the history of Dedan. See also J. Day: How Could Job Be an Edomite?, in: W. A. M. Beuken (ed.), The Book of Job, BETL 114, Leuven 1994, 392–399. L. Perdue (Wisdom Literature. A Theological History, Louisville/ London 2007, 83–85) argues for an exilic date of the dialogues, meanwhile the prose frame is preexilic according to him; see also J. Lévêque: La datation du livre de Job, in: J. A. Emerton (ed.), Congress Volume Vienna 1980, VTSup 32, Leiden 1981, 206–219. 15  This is the position of F. Foster: Is the Book of Job a Translation from an Arabic Original?, AJSL 49 (1932), 21–45; and H.-P. Müller: Das Hiobproblem. Seine Stellung und Entstehung im Alten Orient und im Alten Testament (EdF 84), Darmstadt 1978, 25. 16  Knauf: WO 1988, 71 [translation mine]. See e. g. Job 5:26 gadiš / arab. kadis; see Fohrer: KAT, 134.

148

Konrad Schmid

the intimate knowledge of Hebrew Bible literature17 found in the Book of Job. It can hardly have been written anywhere but in Jerusalem.18 There are several indications that the books of the Hebrew Bible were not very widely spread during the Persian era. On the contrary, we should reckon with the fact that they were primarily authored, read, and handed down in the temple in Jerusalem.19 The high degree of intertextuality in the book of Job20 points directly to this place of origin. We unfortunately know very little of the precise inner organisation of the temple and its presupposed temple school. Who and how many people worked there? How was this school connected to the daily operation of the temple on a personal and institutional level? Due to a lack of information, these questions will have to remain by and large unanswered. 21 But we shall see that the Book of Job with its critical theology at least proves there was a significant degree of inner diversity of this temple school. In regard to the time of origin of a Book of Job that comprises the framework and the dialogues, the creation of a setting during the Nabonid era leaves us with a terminus a quo, an allocation that converges with linguistic22 and intertextual 23 observations in the prose framework. The

See below n. 20. In addition, Knauf points to the incompatibility of Job 29:6 with the fictitious setting of the book: “The combination of shepherding large herds and olive trees is typically Judaic. The olive tree, by contrast, does not grow in Arabia” (BiKi 2004, 66 [translation mine]). 19  See the considerations in K. Schmid: Buchgestalten des Jeremiabuches, WMANT 72, Neukirchen-Vluyn 1996, 35–43, with extensive bibliography. 20  See M. Fishbane: The Book of Job and Inner-biblical Discourse, in: L. Perdue/W. Gilpin (eds.), The Voice from the Whirlwind. Interpreting the Book of Job, Nashville 1992, 86–98; T. Mettinger: Intertextuality: Allusion and Vertical Context Systems in Some Job Passages, in: H. McKay (ed.), Of Prophets’ Visions and the Wisdom of Sages (FS R. N. Whybray), JSOTSup 162, Sheffield 1993, 257–280; idem: The Enigma of Job: The Deconstruction of God in Intertextual Perspective, JNSL 23 (1997), 1–19; and Y. Pyeon: You Have Not Spoken What Is Right About Me. Intertextuality and the Book of Job, StBL 45, Frankfurt a. M. 2003. Also see the chart in S. R. Driver/G. B. Gray: A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Book of Job Together with a New Translation, ICC, Edinburgh 1921, lxviii. 21  For preliminary observations see D. Jamieson-Drake: Scribes and Schools in Monarchic Judah. A Socio-Archeo­lo­g ical Ap­proach, JSOTSup 109, SWBAS 9, Sheffield 1991; H. Delkurt: Grundprobleme alttestamentlicher Weisheit, VF 36 (1991), 38–71, 43–48; Schmid: Buchgestalten, 40–42 n.  198–200 (bibliography); E. Knauf: Les milieux producteurs de la Bible hebraïque, in: Th. Römer, et al. (eds.), Introduction à l’Ancien Testament, MoBi 49, Genève 2004, 49–60. An intriguing overview is provided by D. Carr: Writing on the Tablet of the Heart. Origins of Scripture and Literature, New York 2005. 22  Cf. A. Hurvitz: The Date of the Prose-Tale of Job Linguistically Reconsidered, HTR 67 (1974), 17–34. B. Zuckerman (Job the Silent. A Study in Historical Counterpoint, New York/Oxford 1991, 26 f, cf. 205–206 n. 36) thinks that the dialogue sections are linguistically older than the prose tale. 23  See P. Weimar: Literarkritisches zur Ijob-Novelle, BN 12 (1980), 62–80, 80, who points to the proximity of the prose-framework to the Priestly Code. 17  18 



The Authors of Job and Their Historical and Social Setting

149

setting within a politically unstable context may point to a comparable situation of the author during the transition from the Persian to the Hellenistic era. 24 Whether Eccl 6:10 provides us with a terminus ad quem is not quite clear. 25 Variants of the book of Job in 11QtgJob and the LXX show a fluidity of textual transmission that persisted for a considerable length of time. Thus, it is not fully clear at what time the book of Job could be considered to be “finished.”

Social Backgrounds Aside from these general considerations regarding the time and place of the Book of Job, we may ask further what the social backgrounds of its authors may be. It already has become clear that the writing of the Book of Job presupposes some close relationship to the Jerusalem temple. But first one has to ask what the Book itself may reveal concerning its social background. Here, too, we must separate between the fictitious narrative world of the book and implicit clues about the real author. Job is characterized as a large land owner and as an exceedingly wealthy26 private citizen with an excellent social reputation (cf. esp. 29:10). This characterization seems to provide a direct contrast to the “theology of the poor” that may be found in different parts of the Hebrew Bible, especially in Second Isaiah or in the Psalms, but also in Amos. 27 Job’s depiction as a wealthy man seems to have the purpose of demonstrating that a rich man may also be pious, god-fearing, and the object of divine affection. However, it is not very plausible to postulate that the author of the book of Job was himself a large land owner. 28 This view, if held, would suggest a close relationship between the world of the narrator and the world of the narrative, but: “Simply because the characters are depicted as wealthy aristocrats, one cannot necessarily assume that the author

24  Cf. K. Dell: The Book of Job as Sceptical Literature, BZAW 197, Berlin/New York 1997, 166–168, 213–217; Witte: Leiden, 220. 25  See L. Schwienhorst-Schönberger: Kohelet, HThK.AT, Freiburg i. Br. et al. 2004, 364. 26  Regarding the so-called currency Qesitah (Job 42:11), see Gen 33:19 and Josh 24:32 (HALAT III, 1073). 27  See in this respect the material in N. Lohfink: Option for the Poor: The Basic Principle of Liberation Theology in the Light of the Bible, Berkeley 1987; and C. Levin: Das Amosbuch der Anawim, ZThK 94 (1997), 407–436. 28  As stated by Knauf: WO 1988, 73; idem/Guillaume: Introduction, 506. See also F. Crüsemann: Hiob und Kohelet, in: R. Albertz, et al. (eds.), Werden und Wirken des Alten Testaments (FS C. Westermann), Göttingen 1980, 373–393: “We can hardly doubt that the book of Job originated with a rich aristocratic class within post-exilic Israel” [translation mine]. A survey on the problem is given by R. Whybray: The Social World of the Wisdom Writers, in: R. E. Clements (ed.), The World of Ancient Israel, Cambridge 1989, 227–250, 238–242.

150

Konrad Schmid

and the audience are of that class.”29 Furthermore, the degree of education and intelligence it would have taken to compose the Book of Job would have been impossible for a person not trained in a scholarly tradition. Therefore, it is more plausible to interpret the author as an intellectual supporter of Job’s social class. The high degree of scholarly knowledge regarding especially Israelite, 30 but also Egyptian, 31 Mesopotamian 32 and Greek 33 texts and the numerous subjects examined and presented appear to indicate that the composer of the dialogues was a scribal professional from the Jerusalem temple. 34 This person was also highly educated in cosmological, 35 astronomical, 36 mythological 37 iconographic, 38 legal, 39 anthropological,40 and zoological41 matters. The introduction of “Satan” as a member of the heavenly council also points towards a priestly and therefore a learned background (cf. esp. Zech 29  C. Newsom: The Book of Job. Introduction, Commentary and Reflections, in: The New Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. VI, Nashville 1996, 317–637, 327. 30  See above n. 20. 31  See 8:11–12 (papyrus); skiffs of reed (9:26); Ibis (38:36); Behemot und Leviathan (40:15 ff), see also O. Keel/S. Schroer: Schöpfung. Biblische Theologien im Kontext altorientalischer Religionen, Göttingen 2002, 198–211; further P. Humbert: Recherches sur les sources égyptiennes de la littérature sapientiale d’Israël, Neuchâtel 1929, 75–106; Th. Schneider: Hiob 38 und die demotische Weisheit (Papyrus Insinger 24), ThZ 47 (1991), 108–124. 32  Cf. J. Gray: The Book of Job in the Context of Near Eastern Literature, ZAW 82 (1970), 251–269; M. Weinfeld: Job and its Mesopotamian Parallels – A Typological Analysis, in: W. Claassen (ed.), Text and Context (FS F. C. Fensham), Sheffield 1988, 217–226; Newsom: The Book of Job, 328–334. 33  Cf. M. Treves: The Book of Job, ZAW 107 (1995), 261–272; A. de Pury: Zwischen Sophokles und Ijob. Die Schriften (Ketubim): ein jüdischer Literatur-Kanon, Welt und Umwelt der Bibel 28 (2003), 225–227. 34  Cf. M. Köhlmoos: Das Auge Gottes. Textstrategie im Hiobbuch, FAT 25, Tübingen 1999, 365 f. See also the discussion in R. Albertz: The Sage and Pious Wisdom in the Book of Job, in: J. G. Gammie/L. G. Perdue (eds.), The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, Winona Lake, IN 1990, 243–261. 35  Cf. Job 3–41 and further Schneider: ThZ 1991. 36  Cf. Job 9:9; 38:31 and further M. Albani: „Der das Siebengestirn und den Orion macht“ (Am 5,8). Zur Bedeutung der Plejaden in der israelitischen Religionsgeschichte, in: B. Janowski/M. Köckert (eds.), Religionsgeschichte Israels. Formale und materiale Aspekte, VWGTh 15, Gütersloh 1999, 139–207; idem: „Kannst du die Sternbilder hervortreten lassen zur rechten Zeit …?“ (Hi 28, 32). Gott und Gestirne im Alten Testament und im Alten Orient, in: B. Janowski/B. Ego (eds.), Das biblische Weltbild und seine altorientalischen Kontexte, FAT 32, Tübingen 2001, 181–226. 37  See, e. g., Job 3:8; 15:4; 40:1–28. 38  Cf. O. Keel: Jahwes Entgegnung an Ijob. Eine Deutung von Ijob 38–41 vor dem Hintergrund der zeitgenössischen Bildkunst, FRLANT 121, Göttingen 1978. 39  See for example the differentiated terminology in Job 9:1–16; also E. Greenstein: A Forensic Understanding of the Speech from the Whirlwind, in: M. V. Fox, et al. (eds.), Texts, Temples, and Traditions (FS M. Haran), Winona Lake, IN 1996, 241–258. 40  Job 10:8–11. 41  Job 38–41, see Keel/Schroer: Schöpfung, 200–211.



The Authors of Job and Their Historical and Social Setting

151

3:1 ff, 1 Chr 21:1). Finally, we should mention Bildad’s argument in Job 8:10, which refers back to the fathers and seems to assume a well-developed chain of tradition that could be associated with the institutionalized tradition process of the biblical texts at the Jerusalem temple: For inquire now of bygone generations, and consider what their ancestors have found; for we are but of yesterday, and we know nothing, for our days on earth are but a shadow. Will they not teach you and tell you and utter words out of their understanding?

However, are these considerations not challenged by the radical “theology” (or even “anti-theology”) of the Book of Job – especially resulting from the combination of the prose framework and the dialogues42 – that seems to be highly critical of the known literary traditions of post-exilic Judaism? A closer look at the book of Job and its inner-biblical connections reveals the fact that its stance towards the theologies of Second Temple Judaism is indeed critical, but not just negative. I will point out, very briefly, some examples.43 The Book of Job presents a critical evaluation of the theocratic order of the Priestly Code which must be considered one of the fundamental theological tenets of priestly thinking.44 In contrast to the Priestly Code, the world of Job is not so stable that even a completely righteous individual could not be thrown into complete disaster. In the end, however, Job “died an old man, sated with days” (Job 42:17), much like Abraham and Isaac according to their presentation in the Priestly code (Gen 25:8 and 35:29). In death, the world’s order continues to remain intact. Therefore, the Book of Job does not repudiate Priestly theology, but rather takes an ambivalent position towards its fundamental precepts. The Book of Job also critically discusses the Deuteronomistic position: human righteousness is no final protection against catastrophe. And, vice versa, suffering is not always the result of sin. Without any reason, Job is punished with “foul sores from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head” (Job 2:7), a punishment that is envisioned for Israel’s disobedience in Deut 28:35. Job’s catastrophe is painted in Deuteronomistic colors. Even God himself can be portrayed in the Book of Job as a virtual evildoer in Deuteronomistic terms (42:8 ‘swt nblh, see Deut 22:21, Josh 7:15, Judg 19:2–24, 20:6,10, and 2 Sam 13:12). Again, in the end, God restores Job’s fortunes (42:10), even according to the law’s requirement of a double See above n. 3. See in more detail K. Schmid: Innerbiblische Schriftdiskussion im Hiobbuch, in: Th. Krüger, et al. (eds.), Das Buch Hiob und seine Interpretationen, Beiträge zum Hiob-Symposium auf dem Monte Verità vom 14.–19. August 2005, ATANT 88, Zürich 2007, 241–261. 44  See in this regard the observations by M. Fishbane: Jeremiah IV 23–26 and Job III 3–13: A Recovered Use of the Creation Pattern, VT 21 (1971), 151–167. 42  43 

152

Konrad Schmid

portion (cf. Exod 22:3,8) with the result that, ultimately, God respects justice. Therefore, Deuteronomistic theology also is critically discussed in the book of Job, but not dismissed. Prophecy is also evaluated in an ambiguous way. Job’s God obviously is neither the God of the classical prophecy of doom nor the God of the prophecy of salvation. In Job 4:12–17,45 when Eliphaz is described as a prophet, a part of a speech attributed to him suggests the writer’s critical evaluation of the institution and the contents of prophecy. The outcome of the relevation to Eliphaz is a traditional truth: “Can mortals be righteous before God? Can human beings be pure before their Maker?” (4:17, cf., e. g., Prov 16:2; 20:9; Ps 18:18, 25; 51:4, 7, 9, 12; 143:2). And the detailed description of how the prophetic word came to Eliphaz (4:1–16) presents the receiving of his revelation in a rather amiguous way. When the word came “stealthily” (4:12) to him (cf. Jer 23:30), Eliphaz was unable to discern the appearance of what was standing before him (4:16). Furthermore, the symptoms of Eliphaz (4:1–15), while he is receiving the prophetic word, traditionally belong to rather profane circumstances (cf. e. g. 4:13 with 26:14, 4:13 with 20:2, Ps 94:19 and 139:23). So it becomes clear from the book of Job that the institution of prophecy is no warrant for a new revelation. This is especially true for the “prophecy” Job receives in Job 38–41, which contains no revelation about the background and reasons for his testing in Job 1–2. Another clear intertextual connection may be determined from the content of Job and the theology of the Psalms, in which the saving presence of God46 is critically discussed. The best known example is the repudiation of Ps 8:7 in Job 7:1–19.47 However, this rejection, as reflected by the book of Job, is inspired by the Psalms themselves: Obviously, the statement in Job 7:19 found its argument in Ps 39:14 (“Look away from me”); Job 7 alludes to Ps 39 in numerous ways (cf., e. g., hbl in Ps 39:12 and Job 7:16; and pš‘y in Ps 39:9 and Job 7:21).

45  See J. Harding: A Spirit of Deception in Job 4:15? Interpretive Indeterminacy and Eliphaz’s Vision, Biblical Interpretation 13 (2005), 137–166. The textual connections with the book of Jeremiah are especially discussed by E. Greenstein: Jeremiah as an Inspiration to the Poet of Job, in: J. Kaltner/L. Stulman (eds.), Inspired Speech. Prophecy in the Ancient Near East, FS H. B. Huffmon, London/New York 2004, 98–110. 46  Cf. H. Spieckermann: Heilsgegenwart. Eine Theologie der Psalmen, FRLANT 148, Göttingen 1989. 47  Cf. Fohrer: KAT, 42 Anm. 56; 288; M. Fishbane: Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel, Oxford 1985, 285 f; C. Frevel: Eine kleine Theologie der Menschenwürde. Ps 8 und seine Rezeption im Buch Ijob, in: F.-L. Hossfeld/L. Schwienhorst-Schönberger (eds.), Das Manna fällt auch heute noch. Beiträge zur Geschichte und Theologie des Alten, Ersten Testaments. FS E. Zenger, HBS 44, Freiburg i. Br. 2004, 244–272.



The Authors of Job and Their Historical and Social Setting

Ps 8:7 What are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them (pqd)? Yet you have made them a little lower than God, and crowned them with glory and honour. You have given them dominion over the works of your hands; you have put all things under their feet.

153

Job 7:1–19 What are human beings, that you make so much of them, that you set your mind on them? That you visit them (pqd) every morning, test them every moment? Will you not look away from me (tš‘h mmny) for a while, let me alone until I swallow my spittle?

Ps 39:14 Look away from me (hš‘ mmny), that I may smile again, before I depart and am no more (w’nny, cf. Job 7:21).

These varied, critical responses of the Book of Job to traditional texts are very noticeable and point to a certain lack of orthodoxy inherent in the Book. However, as these examples show, the theology of the Book of Job is not an “anti-theology” but rather a “dialectic” theology, i. e., a theology that critically considers any traditional positive statement about God. The Book of Job is mainly concerned with keeping human projections about the nature and activity of God away from God himself. The Book of Job composes a theological criticism of pseudo-theological concepts in the Hebrew Bible in order to preserve the divinity of God.48 Once theology starts to control the nature and activity of God, then this theology must be subjected to radical criticism. From this point of view, the Book of Job, at least as a written text, could very well have originated and been transmitted in the Jerusalem temple (school).

Concluding remarks If we summarize the considerations presented above, then we conclude that scribal and scholarly activity, as seen in the Book of Job, can probably only have taken place at one location during the Persian and Hellenistic era, namely Jerusalem. At the same time, the Book of Job makes it clear that the scholarly milieu in Jerusalem was highly heterogeneous and included widely varied theological positions. The small scale and thus manageability of this milieu may also have been responsible for the intensive interaction between the various theological positions, as is documented in exemplary fashion by the Book of Job as well as the Hebrew Bible in general.

48 

For a detailed treatment of this problem see Schmid: Hiobproblem (see above n. 3).

Manfred Oeming

Wisdom as a Hermeneutical Key to the Book of Psalms Types of Wisdom in the Psalms1 At the beginning of the 20th century, comparative religious history arrived at the conclusion that wisdom is a multifaceted and international phenomenon with its own formal language: stories, philosophical treatises of different length, poems, prayers, and individual sayings. There is no question that one can find many examples for these sub-categories in the biblical Psalter. Hermann Gunkel, the great master of Formgeschichte, systematically elaborated these correlations, showing us numerous formal analogies to Proverbs, Ben Sira, Job, and Qoheleth. Some examples of the different forms will be given in the following:2 – the aphorism (ml): There are sentences in the book of Psalms that could have easily appeared in Proverbs: Ps 127:1 talks about the blessing of children, and Ps 49 (v. 4 f explicitly called ml) offers a reflection on the value of wealth; – the proverb (gnome): Ps 133 sings of the proverbial beauty of fraternal love; – the numerical aphorism, “One thing God has spoken, two things have I heard: that you, O God, are strong” (Ps 62:12); – the comparative tôb aphorism, such as in Ps 37:16: “Better the little that the righteous have than the wealth of many wicked” (Ps 118:8 f); – the beatitude (makarism) (1:1, 2:12, 32:1 f, 33:12, 34:9, 41:2, 50:5, 65:5, 84:5.6.13, 89:16, 94:12, 106:3, 112:1.5, 119:1.2, 127:5, 128:2, 137:8.9, 144:15, and 146:5); – the lament (Ps 127:2); 1  For a more specific description of the linguistic criteria and a formal analysis of the specific Wisdom “jargon,” see among others R. E. Murphy: A Consideration of the Classification “Wisdom Psalms,” VTS 9 (1963), 156–167; J. K. Kuntz: The Canonical Wisdom Psalms of Ancient Israel: their Rhetorical, Thematic and Formal Dimensions, in: J. J. Jackson/M. Kessler (eds.), Rhetorical Criticism (FS J. Muilenburg) (PTMS 1), Pittsburgh 1974, 186–222; A. Hurwitz: Wisdom Vocabulary in the Hebrew Psalter: a Contribution to the Study of “Wisdom Psalms,” VT 38 (1988), 41–51. 2  H. Gunkel/H. Begrich: Einleitung in die Psalmen, Göttingen 1933, 41985, 381–397: § 10. Weisheitsdichtung in den Psalmen.



Wisdom as a Hermeneutical Key to the Book of Psalms

155

– the rhetorical question (Ps 35:10: “O LORD, who is like you?”); – the call for attention (Ps 50:7); – the riddle (Ps 49:5); – the disputation (in Ps 42/43 the soul is having a fight with itself); – the autobiographical report/the Lehrerzählung (Ps 73 tells us, in a very personal and touching expression of mood, the experiences and thoughts of a religious individual who has been led into temptation); – the acrostic that points to sapiential mnemo-techniques in which each new line starts with the following letter of the alphabet (Ps 9/10, 25, 34, 37, 111, 112, 119, 145; see 103 and 133). On the basis of formal elements alone, the Psalms belong to the category of wisdom literature.

The Wisdom Content of the Psalter The subject matter of numerous examples of oriental wisdom literature is the question of how to fashion a life that is successful and blessed by observing world order and history. Wisdom strives for “rules” as guidance to a successful life. The same goes for the Psalter in its final form. Psalm 1 is the gate opening to the canonical Book of Psalms, showing us that the Psalter deals with such instruction of (eternal?) life, as do other documents of wisdom.3 It is no accident that the psalms are part of canonical Scripture and are situated precisely between Job and Proverbs. Looking at the goals, such as success, luck, and blessing, the wisdom of the Psalms develops a very strange mixture of at least five elements: on the one hand the Torah, the law that has been revealed to Moses by God, must be pondered and lived by. On the other hand, this very strong cultic piety is complemented by a utilitarian ethic of happiness that seems offensive even to modern ears, for example in Ps 15:25: Who may dwell in your sanctuary? … He who lives without blame, who does what is right, and in his heart acknowledges the truth; whose tongue is not given to evil; who has never done harm to his fellow, or borne reproach for his acts toward his neighbor; for whom a contemptible man is abhorrent, but who honors those who fear the LORD; who stands by his oath even to his hurt; and who has never lent money at interest or accepted a bribe against the innocent. The man who acts thus shall never be shaken. 3  Cf. H. Reinelt: Die biblische Weisheitslehre als Wegweisung für den alttestamentlichen Beter der Psalmen, Theologisches Jahrbuch Leipzig 1979, 39–50; Theologie der Psalmen, in: E. Sitarz (ed.), Höre, Israel! Jahwe ist einzig, Biblische Basis Bücher 5, Stuttgart Kevelaer 1987, 183–219; and G. Sheppard: Wisdom as a Hermeneutical Construct. A Study in the Sapientialising of the Old Testament, BZAW 151, Berlin 1980, esp. 136–144.

156

Manfred Oeming

Some of the psalms even develop trust (see Ps 37, 39, 112) and solidarity as central moral values: “How blessed is he who considers the helpless, the Lord will deliver him in a day of trouble” (Ps 41:2). If society as a whole is well off and the social gap is not too wide, then the individual is also well off. One should enjoy life in a humble, but happy way, as far as the narrow borders of possibilities will permit it. “You shall enjoy the fruit of your labors; you shall be happy and you shall prosper” (Ps 128:2). “Enjoy happiness with a woman you love all the fleeting days of life that have been granted to you under the sun all your fleeting days. For that alone is what you may derive from life as well as the means you acquire under the sun (Qoh 9:9).” “But the humble will inherit the land, and will delight themselves in abundant prosperity” (Ps 37:11). This striving for happiness, however, is always accompanied by the depressing knowledge of the transience of the human being (Ps 39:4–6.12): “Lord, enable me to know my end, And what is the extent of my days, Let me know how transient I am.” “Behold, you have made my days as handbreadths, and my lifetime as nothing in your sight. Surely every man at his best is a mere breath. … Surely every man walks about as a phantom; surely they make an uproar for nothing; he amasses riches, and does not know who will gather them. … Hear my prayer, O Lord, and give ear to my cry; do not be silent at my tears; for I am a stranger with Thee, a sojourner like all my fathers.”4

These instructions for happiness are framed in a theology of creation, reflecting human nature, world order and the mysterious workings of God (Ps 8, 19, 90, and 104). It is necessary to enter into a personal dialogue with God and to unburden oneself to him, even with all these reflections in mind. Part of the true art of living is intense prayer, the everlasting expression of one’s thoughts in view of God and towards God: praise for the understanding of the well organized world,5 but also lament due to the experience of injustice, chaos, sickness and sorrow. A basic educational concern also determines much of wisdom literature: “The wise talks to the adolescent.” The belief that there is a direct causal connection between one’s actions and one’s welfare (the Tun-Ergehen-Zusammenhang) is also of influence, such as in Ps 1, 91, 112, and 128.6 The misery experienced when this retali4  Cf. Ch. Forster: Begrenztes Leben als Herausforderung. Das Vergänglichkeitsmotiv in weisheitlichen Psalmen, Zürich 2000. 5  Cf. J. Reindl: Gotteslob als Weisheitslehre. Zur Auslegung von Ps 146, in: idem, Dein Wort beachten, Alttestamentliche Aufsätze, Leipzig 1981, 116–135; and E. Zenger: Durch den Mund des Weisen werde das Loblied gesprochen (Sir 15,10). Weisheitstheologie im Finale des Psalters Ps 146–150, in: I. Fischer, et al., (eds.), Auf den Spuren der schriftgelehrten Weisen. FS J. Marböck, BZAW 331, Berlin 2003, 130–155. 6  Cf. J. Kuntz: The Retribution Motif in Psalmic Wisdom, ZAW 89 (1977), 222–233; J. Burger: The Law of Yahweh, the Fear of Yahweh, and Retribution in the Wisdom Psalms, OTE 2 (1989), 75–95.



Wisdom as a Hermeneutical Key to the Book of Psalms

157

atory doctrine does not take effect, provokes the question of theodicy: Ps 37 – an acrostic – unfolds the comforting notion that the luck of the godless villains will not last and that the pious will eventually own the country. Ps 37 describes in detail the temptation the pious have to suffer due to the good fortune of the ungodly. In the Book of Psalms, Torah theology is combined with creation and wisdom to form a remarkable theology of prayer. This theology of prayer outlines the path to a full life with an educational, ethical emphasis and sets the path into the abyss as a contrast against it.7

Research Issues8 Formally, as well as in subject matter, the Psalter has no doubt been influenced by wisdom. There are still debates, however, whether and in what cases one may speak of “psalms of wisdom.” Approximately 30 Psalms have been considered to belong to this context: 1, 9/10, 12, 15, 19, 25:8–10.12–14; 32, 34, 36, 37, 39:5–7, 49, 50, 52, 53, 72, 73, 78, 82, 90, 91, 92, 94, 107, 111, 112, 119, 125, 127, 128, 131, 133, 139. H. Irsigler9 distinguishes four levels, in which the psalms are accepted as psalms of wisdom. Nearly undisputed and accepted are a) Ps 1, 37, 49 and 112; not exactly unanimous are b) the psalms of pilgrimage, which consist nearly completely of aphorisms of wisdom: Ps 73, 127, and 128; undecided are c) Ps 19B, 34, 119, and 133 (Psalms of the Torah); rarely considered are d) Ps 32, 78, 91, and 111 and the rest in which only few verses show typical wisdom language. Some exegetes even say that there is no such thing as a psalm of wisdom.10 This is either because the element of wisdom is always a minor aspect, never the central message, or it is because the expression itself is seen as a contradiction in terms: the psalms deal with a personal God, who one is able to address directly; wisdom on the other hand talks about a world order and an eternal and unchanging God who is more hidden and implied.11 7  Concerning the Two-Ways-Dogma see W. Harms: Homo viator in bivio: Studien zur Bildlichkeit des Weges, München, 1970, especially 92. 8  Cf. R. Whybray: The Wisdom Psalms, in: J. Day/R. Gordon/H. Williamson (eds.), Wisdom in Ancient Israel (FS J. A. Emerton), Cambridge 1995, 152–160. 9  H. Irsigler: Monolog eines Weisens, ATSAT 20, St. Ottilien 1984. 10  “Psalms belong in the context of worship and originated in this context. ‘Wisdom’ refers to a different realm, an even originally secular realm, with no connection to worship. ‘Wisdom Psalms’ in a strict sense do not and cannot exist” (C. Westermann: Ausgewählte Psalmen, Göttingen 1984, 203). G. von Rad is also skeptical (Weisheit in Israel, NeukirchenVluyn 31985, 70 f). Also see J. Crenshaw: Wisdom Psalms?, in: CR: BS 8 (2000), 9–17; and J. Kuntz: Reclaiming Biblical Wisdom Psalms: A response to Crenshaw, Currents in Biblical Scholarship 1 (2003), 145–154. 11  A very critical position objecting to the “pagan” theology of wisdom is put forward by H. Preuß: Einführung in die alttestamentliche Weisheitsliteratur, Stuttgart 1987, esp. 186–194.

158

Manfred Oeming

These objections are justified to a certain degree. One wisdom aphorism does not yet constitute a psalm of wisdom. This is why the exact number of songs considered psalms of wisdom is still debated and undecided. And the wisdom in the Psalter is not philosophy but piety! But it is still wisdom. Over and over again the psalms praise wisdom ‫ חכמה‬and recommend it: “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; a good understanding have all those who do His commandments; His praise endures forever” (Ps 111:10; cf. 37:30 and 49:4). Wisdom is even reduced to direct revelation of God: “Indeed you desire truth about that which is hidden; teach me wisdom about secret things (51:8).”

Sitz im Leben Hermann Gunkel considered many psalms to originate in a cultic context; but the context in which they are now situated demands an understanding more like personal “spiritual poetry.”12 Because of this, Gunkel cautiously speaks of “aphorisms of wisdom in the Psalms” (and not about psalms of wisdom). Sigmund Mowinckel accepts eleven Psalms as “learned psalmography,”13 composed by scribes in the early Jewish period, who considered the law the criterion and source of Jewish religious life. The piety of the temple cult became detached from this early setting and began to find its place in the synagogue or the lecture room. This was also understood to be prayer.

Dating The dating of wisdom statements is in general very difficult, because wisdom literature spread internationally through the course of many centuries. It is therefore possible that some of the psalms of wisdom date to the time before the exile. We can still detect certain developments. The anthological style does play an important role: new texts are created (see Ps 1), based on earlier texts from the Torah, the books of history, and the prophets. The time period during which scribes reworked older biblical

A. Gunneweg is also critical of these texts: Biblische Theologie des Alten Testaments. Eine Religionsgeschichte Israels in biblisch-theologischer Sicht, Stuttgart 1993, 234–243. 12  A protestant element is probably part of Gunkel’s hypothesis: the pious protestant soul is singing its hymns at home in privacy. 13  S. Mowinckel: Psalms and Wisdom, in: M. Noth/D. Thomas (eds.), Wisdom in Israel and in the Ancient Near East, VTS 3, Leiden 1955, 205–224; cf. The Psalms in Israel’s Worship 2, Oxford 1962, 105–111.



Wisdom as a Hermeneutical Key to the Book of Psalms

159

literature (seen especially in psalms that are arranged alphabetically), is naturally the late period (Persian and Hellenistic).

Use in Worship14 Older research and especially Mowinckel and his followers considered the Psalter the “hymnbook of the second temple community;” as such, the Psalter gives us vivid insight into the active cult in Jerusalem (and other places, such as Dan). Contrasting this view, an increasing number of scholars now consider the Book of Psalms to belong to the time following cultic practices in the temple. The expression “nachkultisch”15 (post-cultic), introduced by F. Scholz, is based on the observation that many psalms contain a mixture of genres (Ps 27, for example, is a song of faith and lament, while Ps 22 is an extensive lament, supplication, expression of trust and a ubiquitous song of gratitude). Psalms deriving from a time after the height of the second temple community no longer refer to a ritual occurrence, not even to a specific cultic situation.16 “We should not, or not directly, understand the psalms as they exist today as an oral expression in a cultic setting; rather, they are literary products that must be read on a literary level. There are many indications that the authors of the Psalms were highly educated individuals, who had memorized large sections of Torah, prophets and writings and could allude to them frequently […] When interpreting individual psalms we will time and again encounter clues that the authors were situated in a context of “wise men” of high intellect. Many of the originally cultic elements have now become […] building blocks, examples that aim to illustrate wisdom teachings. Some laments, thanksgivings, and hymns are combined to communicate sapiential insights. The attempt to isolate individual elements and their respective Sitz im Leben is irrelevant and off the mark; as a Gattung the Psalm is a mixture, aimed at communicating and teaching insight into theological wisdom about the world.”17 However, we should not state the alternatives too exclusively: it is also possible to preach the doctrines of wisdom in a church service, especially within the scope of a synagogue service.

14  See L. Perdue: Wisdom and Cult, Missoula, MT, 1977, esp. 261 ff; cf. also A. B. Ernst, Weisheitliche Kultkritik, BThSt 23, Neukirchen-Vluyn 1994. 15  F. Stolz: Psalmen im nachkultischen Raum, ThSt 129, Zürich 1983. 16  Similar is J. van Oorschot: Nachkultische Psalmen und spätbiblische Rollendichtung, ZAW 106 (1994), 69–86. 17  M. Oeming: Das Buch der Psalmen, Stuttgart 2000, 23 f.

160

Manfred Oeming

Historical and Sociological Setting The psalms, like narrative literature, most likely originated from within educated circles. Like the narratives and the ritual instructions, they are basically the literature of the priestly elite. E. Zenger18 has emphasized on several occasions that the final redaction of the Book of Psalms is to be located within the context of the wisdom school in Jerusalem, in the sphere of Ben Sira between 200 and 150 B. C. E. I would definitely agree with him, but I would extend the time period up to the first century. M. Reitemeyer has shown that there are strong similarities between Ben Sira and the psalms.19 Texts from Qumran and the Odes of Solomon also show a strong affinity to the psalms of wisdom. An interesting hypothesis worthy of consideration has been put forward by W. Beyerlin. 20 He states that the Sitz im Leben is found in the post-exilic wisdom school in Jerusalem. This wisdom school enriched its literature with cultic material in order to fashion “school prayers.” They produced these educational prayers by means of anthological psalm interpretation: new wisdom teachings were formed, based on the redactional reworking of earlier cultic texts. These scribal products did not always conform to official cultic practice. 21 “If we are interested in maintaining our quest for the Sitz im Leben, then we must consider the school, private devotion, and the synagogue service before we consider the cultic practice in the Jerusalem temple. If we insist on a single Sitz im Leben we strangle these prayers; what was meant as an open form for many different praying individuals is pressed into a single situation, following the needs of form criticism (e. g. an asylum in the temple, a court procedure in the temple or similar situations). This reduction renders the psalms useless for many other contexts.”22

18  E. Zenger: Der Psalter als Buch. Beobachtungen zu seiner Entstehung, Komposition und Funktion, in: idem (ed.), Der Psalter in Judentum und Christentum, HBS 18, Freiburg i. Br. 1998, 1–57; cf. esp. 45–47. 19  M. Reitemeyer: Weisheitslehre als Gotteslob. Psalmentheologie im Buch Jesus Sirach, BBB 127, Berlin 2000. 20  W. Beyerlin: Werden und Wesen des 107. Psalms, BZAW 153, Berlin 1978; idem: Der 52. Psalm, BWANT 111, Stuttgart 1980; idem: Wider die Hybris des Geistes. Studien zum 131 Psalm, SBS 108, Stuttgart 1982; idem: Weisheitliche-kultische Heilsordnung. Studien zum 15. Psalm, BThSt 9, Neukirchen-Vluyn 1985; and idem: Weisheitliche Vergewisserung mit Bezug auf den Zionskult. Studien zum 125. Psalm, OBO 68, Fribourg/Göttingen 1985. 21  Cf. C. Sticher: Die Rettung der Guten durch Gott und die Selbstzerstörung der Bösen: Ein theologisches Denkmuster im Psalter, BBB 137, Berlin 2002, esp. 17 f. 22  Oeming: Das Buch der Psalmen, 24.



Wisdom as a Hermeneutical Key to the Book of Psalms

161

The Theological Importance of Wisdom Redaction There are important contributions to the theology of wisdom in regards to individual psalms, 23 but the material concerning wisdom in the psalms in general (as well as psalmistic material in wisdom documents such as Job, Ben Sira, and the Odes of Solomon) has yet to be worked through thoroughly and thus far is a task not examined by research. As a result we will probably see that the Psalter as a whole is far more connected to wisdom theology than we have imagined to this point. If we look at the division of the Psalter into five books (Ps 1–41: the first book; Ps 42–72: the second book; Ps 73–89: the third book; Ps 90–106: the fourth book; Ps 107–150: the fifth book) and consider the position of the wisdom texts in it, we will notice that they are positioned almost consistently at corner points of each of the five sections. A psalm of wisdom opens each section and closes it, so that the sapiential pattern of interpretation surrounds the book of psalms like circles. Only Ps 89 and the passage from the fourth to the fifth book – Ps 106–107 – do not display this pattern clearly; the pattern holds only if we add ‘story’ to the wisdom genres, which indeed is possible, considering Wis 8:19–19:22 in the late period (Wisdom belongs more or less to the first century B. C. E. up to the turn of the millennia). It seems that the composer of the final texts intended a wisdom oriented arrangement. It might not be a coincidence that the only psalm ascribed to Solomon, which characterizes the ideal wise man and the model king, is situated at the center of the book of psalms. 24 The (secondary) intellectualization of the cultic tradition 25 has to be seen in the context of the sapientalizing of Torah piety (such as in Deut 4), as well as with the vision of history and the interpretation of the prophecy (such as the end of Hosea, Hos 14). The “main theological function of wisdom psalms seems to be to confirm and strengthen the religious creed, particularly the statement that God is just. A further function is ‘instruction’ …, especially as an education towards the ideal of the just person (Ps 1) and as an advertisement for faith (see Ps 37, 49, 52, and 73).”26

E. g. Irsigler: Psalm 73 – Monolog eines Weisen. See D. Human: An Ideal for Leadership – Psalm 72: The (Wise) King – Royal Mediation of God’s Universal Reign, Verbum et Ecclesia 23 (2002), 658–677; cf. also Ps 112 according to the interpretation of S. K. Sherwood: Psalm 112 – A Royal Wisdom Psalm?, CBQ 51 (1989), 50–64. 25  See R. Whybray: The Intellectual Tradition in the Old Testament, BZAW 135, Berlin/ New York 1974, esp. 93 ff. 26  H. Irsigler: Weisheitspsalmen, in: M. Görg/B. Lang, Neues Bibel Lexikon Vol. III (2001), 1090–1092. 23  24 

162

Manfred Oeming

Perhaps we should go one step further. Because the entire collection is framed by sapiential material, which is also inserted throughout, the Psalter as a whole gains a timeless international character. Martin Luther, in his famous preface to the Psalter (1528), emphasized this existential universal “wisdom” aspect of Israel’s praying: [The Psalter] might well be called a little Bible. In it is comprehended most beautifully and briefly everything that is in the entire Bible … almost an entire summary of it, comprised in one little book. […] It is really a fine enchiridion or handbook. In fact I guess that the Holy Spirit wanted to take the trouble personally to compile a short Bible and a book of examples of all Christendom or all saints, so that anyone who could not read the whole Bible would here have anyway almost an entire summary of it, comprised in one little book. […] You can find yourself in the Psalms and the true gnothi seauton, as well as God himself and all creatures. You will find a fine, bright, pure mirror in which you will find […] yourself.”27

As such, the Psalter appears to provide us with a basic sapiental paradigm (weisheitliches Grundlagenparadigma). 28

Preface to the Psalter (WA Bi 10:2), 99–105. How beneficial such studies can be is shown in an exemplary way by Ch. Frevel: “Eine kleine Theologie der Menschenwürde: Ps 8 und seine Rezeption im Buch Ijob”, in: F.-L. Hossfeld/L. Schwienhorst-Schönberger (eds.), Das Manna fällt auch heute. Beiträge zur Geschichte und Theologie des Alten Testaments (FS E. Zenger), HBS 44, Freiburg i. Br. 2004, 244–272. The rhetoric and theology of the Psalms often radiates from wisdom literature. The Psalter, because it stands at the “canonical”, hermeneutical facefront of the writings, explains this influence. This coupled with the importance of the Torah in the final form of the Psalter, also coheres with its own thematic profile in which a sapiential paradigm serves as its foundation. 27 

28 

Reinhard G. Kratz

Ezra – Priest and Scribe Introduction In Ezra 7:12, 21 Ezra is called by the Aramaic double title “the priest, the scribe of the law of the God of heaven.” In the Hebrew variation of the same title he is called “the priest, the scribe” (Ezra 7:11, Neh 8:9, 12:26). The phrase is sometimes split up (Ezra 10:10, 16, Neh 8,[1], 2, and Neh 8:1, 4, 13, 12:36) or rephrased whereby the “scribe” appears as a Schriftge­ lehrter, i. e., a scholar of the law (Ezra 7:6, 10, 11). These titles determine the picture of Ezra in Jewish tradition, giving him a significance comparable to that of Jesus in Christianity and to Mohammed in Islam. Past scholarship was generally concerned with the latter title, “the scribe,” its origin and transformation in the literary tradition, in order to use it as a vehicle to discover the historical figure of Ezra. Our contribution will focus on the tradition itself, investigating which picture of Ezra is connected with both titles. The body of texts we shall examine cover over a half century: by moving backwards from the latest to the oldest attestation of Ezra in the extra-biblical and biblical sources we shall seek to analyze the history of the Ezra legends. We shall demonstrate that already the oldest layers of the tradition are part of this history, paving a direct path towards the legend that serves as the corner-stone of Judaism.

The Ezra of Jewish Tradition Jewish tradition regards Ezra, who is sometimes identified with the prophet Malachi, as a second Moses and, like that of his great predecessor, his legend is equally opaque.1 Author’s note: My sincere thanks to Anselm C. Hagedorn (Berlin) for his valuable help in preparing the English version of the article. 1  Cf. the collection of the relevant material in L. Ginzberg: The Legends of the Jews 4. Bible Times and Characters from Joshua to Esther, Philadelphia 1913 (Repr. Hildesheim 2000), 354–359 (with notes in Vol.  5, 441 ff). Additionally, W. T. in der Smitten: Esra. Quellen, Überlieferung und Geschichte, SSN 15, Assen 1973, 81–85; E. M. Yamauchi: Postbiblical Traditions about Ezra and Nehemiah, in: W. C. Kaiser, Jr./R. F. Youngblood (ed.), A Tribute to Gleason Archer, Chicago 1986, 167–176.

164

Reinhard G. Kratz

As a son of Seraiah, the last High Priest of the temple in Jerusalem before the destruction of the city and the following exile (Ezra 7:1–5; cf. 2 Kgs 25:18–21), Ezra is said to have been a pupil of Baruch, the scribe of Jeremiah (Jer 36, 45), in Babylon. In taking into consideration Baruch’s age and in order to complete his studies of Torah, Ezra remained in Babylon and did not return immediately to Judah, as did his namesake, the priest Ezra in Neh 12:1, 13, with the first group of liberated exiles under Zerubbabel and Joshua to begin rebuilding the temple. According to the line of succession, the office of High Priest belonged in any case to his nephew Joshua, son of Jehozadak, the first born of Seraiah (1 Chr 5:40–41). In regard to one of his duties, to resolve the problem of mixed marriages (Ezra 9–10, Neh 10), it is reported that Ezra checked his documentation of lineage very carefully before his journey homeward to Jerusalem. In addition, he was responsible that a pure community, free of all foreigners, would remain behind in the Babylonian gl. When there were doubts regarding a person’s descent he took him to Judah where the cultic purity of the priests and all the people was not yet constituted. The divorce of the mixed marriages serves as pars pro toto for Ezra’s actual purpose and destiny: the compulsory reintroduction and dissemination of Torah (Ezra 7, Neh 8). Biblical tradition not only calls Ezra “the priest” but also “the scribe” (Ezra 7:6 etc.). From the title “the scribe,” tradition considers Ezra to be the model of the comprehensive function of Jewish scribal and customary matters. Thus, he is supposed to be responsible for collecting and on occasion even writing the sacred books; additionally he is credited with introducing the square script as well as the diacritical marks, i. e. the Masorah. As the founder of the practice of a public reading and explication of Torah in the Synagogue (Neh 8), the ten (or eleven) Tekanoth are attributed to him and contain the order for the weekly reading of Torah on Monday, Thursday and the afternoon of the Sabbath, regular court sessions on Monday and Thursday, and several other stipulations. Furthermore, Ezra is supposed to be the founder of new Torah schools as well as the college of scribes and served as the first chairman of the so called “Great Assembly,” the inaugural meeting of Rabbinic Judaism. In short: Ezra is the Jewish scribe par excellence and the founder of Judaism. It is he who symbolizes the transformation from biblical to rabbinic Judaism or to put it differently, he is responsible for the transformation of the age of the prophets, commencing with Moses, into the time of the sages. It goes without saying that such a person, similar to his biblical archetype Moses, is connected with several localized traditions. There are three legends concerning the place of his burial: one in Jerusalem (Josephus), one in Persia (Talmud), and one on the western Tigris (near ‘Uzair). Several synagogues are named after him, among them the one in Raccia,



Ezra – Priest and Scribe

165

Mesopotamia, which he supposedly had founded on his journey from Babylon to Palestine. Supposed descendants and pupils of Ezra are found in particular areas throughout the world. The shadow of Jewish tradition and its Ezra legend has loomed large even in the centuries of the development and continuation of modern biblical scholarship. For example, Spinoza speculated that the five books of Moses and the other historical books were not written by the authors to whom they were attributed, but rather by Ezra. 2 Even today the view, first put forward by Eduard Meyer3 and Hans Heinrich Schaeder,4 that Judaism started with Ezra and that the Jewish tradition of his Persian title, “the scribe,” points to the beginnings of rabbinic scriptural interpretation is shared by many scholars. Obedience to Torah in cultic and ethical matters, the origin of the canon, and the beginnings of the synagogue worship are readily connected either with Ezra or with the circles working in his name.5 The reason for this unanimity of Jewish tradition and critical scholarship is easily determined: both are based on the same sources, the biblical and extra-biblical Ezra texts and others mentioning him that are presupposed and retold with different accents. However, the biblical and extra-biblical Ezra texts do not only comprise the primary sources for this traditional view and for the one generally expressed in scholarship. They are in themselves an important part of a fluid and developing Judaism throughout the years. It is therefore problematic to claim simply that the features comprising this tradition easily may be used to reconstruct the historical figure of Ezra.6 Instead, we must distinguish between two sets of questions: firstly, we have to ask about the history of the tradition, and secondly we must inquire about the historical figure of Ezra and the historical circumstances in which his tradition is rooted. Here, scholarly analysis continues to be 2  Tractatus Theologico–Politicus (1670), in: G. Dawlick/F. Niewöhner (eds.), Spinoza, Opera – Werke, Lateinisch und Deutsch 1, Darmstadt 21989, 300 ff (editio princeps 112 f). The connection with the “Grand Assembly,” however, is rejected by Spinoza: op. cit., 368 (editio princeps 136, Adnotatio XXV). 3  E. Meyer: Die Entstehung des Judenthums. Eine historische Untersuchung, Halle 1896 (Repr. Hildesheim 1987). On E. Meyer and his controversy with J. Wellhausen see R. G. Kratz: Die Entstehung des Judentums, in: idem, Das Judentum im Zeitalter des Zweiten Tempels, FAT 42, Tübingen 2006, 6–22. 4  H. H. Schaeder: Esra der Schreiber, BHT 5, Tübingen 1930. 5  Cf. K. Koch: Weltordnung und Reichsidee im alten Iran und ihre Auswirkungen auf die Provinz Juda, in: P. Frei/K. Koch (eds.), Reichsidee und Reichsorganisation im Perserreich, OBO 55, Fribourg/Göttingen 21996, 133–337, esp. 206 ff. Furthemore, see H. Donner: Geschichte des Volkes Israel und seiner Nachbarn in Grundzügen 2, GAT 4/2, Göttingen 21995, 460–465; R. Albertz: Religionsgeschichte Israels in alttestamentlicher Zeit 2, GAT 8/2, Göttingen 21997, 495–535 (ET: A History of Israelite Religion in the Old Testament Period 2: From the Exile to the Maccabees, trans. by J. Bowden, London 1994, 465–493); and E. Gerstenberger: Israel in der Perserzeit. 5. und 4. Jahrhundert v. Chr., Biblische Enzyklopädie 8, Stuttgart 2005, 82–85. 6  See, e. g., Jüdisches Lexikon 2, Berlin 1927 (Nachdruck 1982), 513.

166

Reinhard G. Kratz

very much a work in progress, but an initial consensus regarding the nature of this two part distinction is emerging. Following this it will be our main task, by means of literary-historical analysis and Tendenzkritik, to reconstruct the history of the tradition in an attempt to reach back to its roots and the starting point.7 We must caution, however, that what can be called historical with precision may only be deduced indirectly and serves as a subordinate question.

The Pseudepigraphical Ezra (4 Ezra) By ca. 100 C. E. the Jewish Ezra legend, which has influenced rather significantly the scholarly portrait of this enigmatic figure, was as good as finished. Evidence for this completion is found in the 14th chapter of an apocalyptic work, called after the enumeration system of the Vulgate Li­ ber Ezrae Quartus, i. e. Fourth Ezra. Within this book, chapters 3–14 contain the original work, while chapters 1–2 and 15–16, originally not part of the text, are consequently called Fifth and Sixth Ezra by scholars.8 In 4 Ezra we are able to discover almost all the topoi generally connected with Ezra in Jewish tradition, especially the typology provided by Moses and his significance for handing down Jewish tradition. It seems that one is able to observe within 4 Ezra 14 how the biblical Ezra was transformed into the Ezra of Jewish (rabbinic) tradition. Since we do not possess the original version of 4 Ezra, it is not always easy to follow the path of this transformation. Versions in Latin (in several manuscripts), Syriac, Ethiopian, Armenian, Georgian, and two Arabic ones, not to mention several Sahidic fragments, are preserved. Scholars are in agreement that all of the versions and their offshoots are dependent on a Greek translation of a Semitic, most likely Hebrew, original. If one follows the Latin version (easily accessible in every edition of the Vulgate),9 the primary apocalypse is attributed to a certain Salathi(h) 7  On the discussion see J. C. H. Lebram: Die Traditionsgeschichte der Esragestalt und die Frage nach dem historischen Esra, in: H. Sancisi-Weerdenburg (ed.), Achaemenid History 1. Sources, Structures and Synthesis (proceedings of the Groningen 1983 Achaemenid History Workshop), Leiden 1987, 103–138; and L. L. Grabbe: A History of the Jews and Judaism in the Second Temple Period 1. Yehud: A History of the Persian Province of Judah, Library of Second Temple Studies 47, London/New York 2004, 324–343. 8  The editions are B. Violet: Die Esra-Apokalypse (IV. Esra). Die Überlieferung, GCS 18, Leipzig 1910; idem: Die Apokalypsen des Esra und des Baruch in deutscher Gestalt, GCS 32, Leipzig 1924; furthermore: APAT 2, 331–401; JSHRZ V/4, 289–412; APOT 2, 542–624; OTP 1, 517–559; cf. also ABD 2, 611–614, and M. E. Stone: Fourth Ezra. A Commentary on the Book of Fourth Ezra (Hermeneia), Minneapolis 1990. 9  Together with the Syriac version the Latin version probably is the closest to the original as far as a translation is concerned. Cf. JSHRZ V/4, 296 f.



Ezra – Priest and Scribe

167

el who is also called Ezra: ego Salathihel qui et Ezras (4 Ezra 3:1). Even though this Salathi(h)el (the name alludes to the biblical Shaltiel or Shealtiel, the father or uncle of Zerubbabel10) is in the following only called Ezra,11 scholars are in disagreement as to whether this name originally referred to the Ezra known from the Hebrew Bible. Especially the date (30th year after the destruction of Jerusalem) and the localisation (Babylon)12 do not exclude the possibility that the apocalypse refers to another, earlier Ezra who was otherwise unknown13 or to a priest, bearing the same name of the one who returned with Zerubbabel (Neh 12:1).14 Zerubbabel was later made a son of Shealtiel. In the apocalypse itself, a reflection on the question of theodicy in light of the destruction of Jerusalem, very little appears to point prima facie to the hero of the biblical books of Ezra and Nehemiah.15 Chapter 14, however, is the exception to the rule: only here it becomes clear that the apocalyptic seer wants to be identified with the scribe and teacher of Torah, whom we know from Ezra 10 and Neh 8. In Ezra 7:25 he has the law in his hand (cf. Ezra 7:14) and also possesses the wisdom of his God. This may have been the reason to consider the Ezra of the apocalypse, who engages like Job in a disputation with God, as the one who receives from God abundant wisdom (4 Ezra 14:12, 40) and shall teach wisdom to the sages (4 Ezra 14:26, 46 f),16 as the Ezra of the biblical tradition, who is called “the scribe of the Law of the God of Heaven” (Ezra 7:12; cf. 7:6, 10 f). This is made explicit in the closure (missing in the Latin text)17 of 4 Ezra,18 10  Shaltiel: Hag 1:12, 14, 2:2; Shealtiel: Hag 1:1, 2:23, Ezra 3:2, 8, 5:2, Neh 12:1, 2 Chr 3:17. Latin tradition does not make this distinction. 11  4 Ezra 6:10, 7:2, 25, 8:2, 20. 12  Anno tricesimo ruinae civitatis eram in Babylone (4 Ezra 3:1; cf. 3:28 f). The date is usually connected to the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 C. E. and utilized as a clue about the writing of the book around 100 C. E. The historicizing fiction seems to point (in accordance with Ezek 1,1) to an identification of the situation with the events in 597/587 B. C. E. This has to be taken into account. 13  Thus Violet: Apokalypsen, XLIVf. 14  Already Spinoza: Tractatus Theologico-Politicus, 358 (editio princeps 132 Adnotatio XXIV). 15  Different M. Sæbø: TRE 10, 1982, 382 who mainly argues on the basis of chapter 14 of 4 Ezra. 16  Some versions, but not the Latin one, already state in 14:13, “instruct those of him/of them (i. e. the people) that are wise”. 17  The Latin version ends in 4 Ezra 14:47 with Et feci sic and continues with chapters 15–16. Most other versions offer a longer text in which Ezra bears the Title “scribe of (wisdom/knowledge of) the Most High”; the Arabic version has a similar ending and in the final remark Ezra is called “scribe of the Law”; cf. Violet: Esra-Apokalypse, 430–432. 18  Cf. the “speedy scribes” in 4 Ezra 14:24 (qui parati sunt ad scribendum velociter), Ezra as a speedy scribe in Ezra 7:6 (et ipse scriba velox in lege Mosi), and the same description in Ps 45/44:2 (‫ ;סופר מהיר‬cf. iuxta Septuaginta: calamus scribae velociter scribentis, iuxta Hebraicum: stilus scribae velocis).

168

Reinhard G. Kratz

presupposed in 4 Ezra 1–2 (here 1:1 ff) and also in the remaining (Jewish, Christian and Islamic) Ezra tradition that is dependent on 4 Ezra.19 In comparing this text with the biblical tradition, the picture of Ezra in 4 Ezra 14 has been modified in two instances. 20 Firstly, the scribe has been transformed into the author of Torah. The background for such a change is found in the verbal interpretation of the Aramaic title “scribe of the law of the God of heaven” in Ezra 7:12 and its Hebrew variant “scribe of the words of the commandments of YHWH” (Ezra 7:11). In contrast to the translation of the title in Ezra 7:6 and 7:10 that stresses clearly that the construct “scribe of” determines the area of competence, i. e. the scribal or exegetical occupation with an already existing Torah, the verbal interpretation in 4 Ezra 14 transforms the Torah of Moses into the object of writing. 21 The necessity of writing down the Torah of Moses once again is justified in 4 Ezra 14 (with reference to 4:23)22 by the fact that the Torah no longer existed. According to 14:21 the Torah was burnt (lex tua incensa est), which most likely refers to the destruction of the temple as the place where the sacred Torah scrolls were thought to be stored. As long as Ezra lives and walks on the face of the earth, the Torah is represented by him: he not only knows its content, but also shall teach it to the people of Israel, just as the biblical Ezra had done. But what will happen to the generations following him? It is for them that he wishes to record what was written in the Torah of Moses (4 Ezra 14:18–22). For precisely this reason, Ezra is said to have received an instruction regarding God’s revelation to Moses out of the burning bush and on Mt. Sinai (4 Ezra 13:58–14:6). The scene evokes previous theophanies: “by the oaks” like Abraham (Gen 18:1), “out of a thorn bush” like Moses (Ex 3:2, 4), and after a span of three days like the people of Israel on Mt. Sinai (Ex 19:10 f, 15 f). In addition there are echoes of the solemn introductory formulae revelans revelatus sum to Eli in 1 Sam 2:27 and Ezra’s standing on both feet like Ezekiel (Ezek 2:1). Following this pattern of resonances with biblical texts, especially those associated with the Mosaic tradition, there also are Ezra’s objection (4 Ezra 14:20) and the commandment to write down the Torah within a time span of forty days for later generations (4 Ezra 14:24 ff; cf. Exod 24:18, 34:28, and Deut 9:9). 19  See the overview in ABD 2, 729–731; on Ezra in the Church Fathers and in the Qu’ran see J. M. Myers: Ezra-Nehemiah, AB 14, New York 1965, LXXIII; in der Smitten: Esra, 85–87. 20  On the following, see the excellent interpretation of the chapter in C. Macholz: Die Entstehung des hebräischen Bibelkanons nach 4 Esra 14, in: E. Blum (ed.), Die hebräische Bibel und ihre zweifache Nachgeschichte (FS R. Rendtorff), Neukirchen-Vluyn 1990, 379–391. 21  Similarly LXX in Ezra (Esdras β) 7:11 τῷ γραμματεῖ βιβλίου λόγων ἐντολῶν κυρίου καὶ προσταγμάτων αὐτοῦ ἐπὶ τὸν ᾿Ἰσραήλ . 22  4 Ezra 4:23 et lex patrum nostrorum in interitum deducta est, et dispositiones scriptae nusquam sunt – the passage probably refers metaphorically to the non-observance of the Torah.



Ezra – Priest and Scribe

169

Thus, in Ezra 14, Ezra is not simply reminded of Moses; rather he is pictured much like Moses himself. Therefore, like Moses, he warns the people with the address, “Hear O Israel” (4 Ezra 14:28 ff), and he writes down the divine words (4 Ezra 14:24–25, 37–44). 23 Already the biblical tradition pictures Ezra, the scribe and priest as leading the gl from Babylon to Israel, to be like Moses who had led Israel out of Egypt (cf. Ezra 7:6 f, 8:1 ff). Additionally, 4 Ezra 14 honors him by divine revelation, making him into a second Moses. The reasoning behind such a reinterpretation of the biblical Ezra tradition is not merely the delight in creating new stories, but also represents the need for legitimation. 4 Ezra 14 authenticates both the collection and the selection of twenty-four biblical books in the Hebrew canon (cf. Josephus, C. Ap. 1, 39 f who counts twenty-two books). The holy writings that are traced back to Ezra are not written by him but directly by God, thus corresponding to God’s original revelation to Moses. But it is not only the biblical books of the Hebrew canon, which are legitimated in this manner as holy writings. Much more important are the other seventy of the ninety-four books copied by Ezra and his helpers in the forty days of divine inspiration that are also traced back to Moses and to the initial revelation on Mt. Sinai. These lead us to the second decisive modification of the biblical Ezra-tradition in 4 Ezra 14. Already in the recapitulation of the revelation on Mt. Sinai (4 Ezra 14:5), it is remarkable that Moses is told “miraculous things” (mirabilia multa) and that he is further introduced to the “secrets of the ages and the end of time” (temporum secreta et temporum finem). Without any difficulties the mirabilia multa may be equated with the biblical history as told in the Torah and the other books. To determine on the other hand what is meant by the “secrets of the ages” and the “end of time” is much more difficult. One can think of the prophets, but they are not mentioned in the biblical report of the revelation on Mt. Sinai. Rather, the Sinaitic revelation itself is interpreted eschatologically – as is the case in Jubilees. The law, i. e. the Torah, revealed at Mt. Sinai, is understood in such a way that it concerns not only the biblical history but also the last days of which the prophets and several other writings (including 4 Ezra itself) frequently speak. In this sense, 4 Ezra 14:7–17 explicitly refers to the previous apocalypse (v. 8, 17). Within this framework everything that Ezra saw and heard was 23  It does not make any difference that the actual writing is in fact done by the “speedy scribes” to whom Ezra dictates the Torah. According to 4 Ezra 14:25, it is Ezra himself who writes, even though it is said in 14:43 that he dictates according to his divine revelation. The tradition is equally less precise with Moses, where it is not always clear whether he writes himself either following YHWH’s dictation (Ex 24:4, 34:28, Jub 1:5, 7, 26) or that of an angel (Jub 2:1), or whether God is the composer (Ex 24:12, 31:18, 32:15 f, 34:1, Deut 4:13, 5:22, 9:10, 10:1–5, Jub 1:1), or the angel of the presence respectively (Jub 1:27).

170

Reinhard G. Kratz

also part of the revelation at Mt. Sinai. 4 Ezra 14:21 also reminds us that the lost Law spoke of the acts that God had already done and of the deeds that he will do. 24 Thus, the Torah neither simply narrates the history of the world from creation onwards nor provides guidance only for the present time, but is also composed for a life in novissimis (v. 22). Therefore, Ezra finally urges the people to listen to him and in doing so to keep the Law that he represents in order to survive the judgment after death and to reach eternal life (v. 34–35). In short: the contents of the holy writings consists of both sacred history and eschatology. 25 This eschatological interpretation of the Torah revealed on Mt. Sinai, of course, is unknown to the biblical Ezra tradition. But even this second modification of the biblical picture of Ezra refers to Moses himself. It utilizes the biblical distinction between the public proclamation of the Decalogue and the intimate communication of the other laws to Moses in Ex 19 ff and Deut 5 and interprets this fact as public and secret revelation (4 Ezra 14:5 f). 4 Ezra 14:45–47 also applies this distinction to the ninetyfour books written by Ezra as a second Moses and distinguishes between the twenty-four biblical books that are open to the public and the seventy other ones that contain apocalyptic secrets. Thus, the seventy apocalyptic books are placed on the same level as the Torah. As Christian Macholz has demonstrated conclusively, 4 Ezra 14 is not concerned with the legitimation of Torah, but rather with the status of apocalyptic literature: “Sie ist, ebenso wie die allbekannte Heilige Schrift, von Gott selbst geoffenbart – schon dem Mose am Sinai und dann, zum erneuernden, zweiten Mal, dem Esra.”26 The apocalyptic literature (including 4 Ezra itself) is put on a par with the Torah and the Hebrew canon as a whole and is equal to them, if not actually superior, since this eschatological approach provides guidance for reading scripture and helps to understand the biblical books. For the circles of 4 Ezra, apocalyptic literature occupied the same place that oral tradition came to hold for the Rabbis. Apart from this admittedly serious and structural difference, we have the same legend here that places Ezra (as a pupil of Baruch 27) in Babylon (cf. 4 Ezra 3:1), connects him with the change to the Hebrew square script (cf. 4 Ezra 14:42), and attributes a significant role within the tradition of the composition of Jewish literature to him. 24  The Latin version reads: quae a te facta sunt vel quae incipient operae (some manuscripts and editions read opera). The textual tradition is not quite clear here. Cf. JSHRZ V/4, 402 n. 21b. 25  Cf. H. Gunkel in APAT 2, 399, n. o.: “Demnach ist der Inhalt der heil.[igen] Schriften heilige Geschichte und Eschatologie”. 26  Macholz: Entstehung, 388. 27  Structurally one could compare apocryphal Baruch; on a literary level the Syriac Apocalypse of Baruch is dependent on 4 Ezra.



Ezra – Priest and Scribe

171

The existence of other, if not competing, traditions becomes apparent by the short note in 2 Macc 2:13 f that mentions the libraries established by Nehemiah and, following in his footsteps, by Judas Maccabaeus. As in 4 Ezra 14 and in the two different versions of the legend of the holy fire for the altar (2 Macc 1:18–36, 2:1–8), we find the same problem here: the concern for securing Israel’s identity after the destruction of Jerusalem. For one group this identity is made manifest in the cult at the temple, for the other groups in the Torah of Moses alone. In both cases this identity is deduced from an aetiology of the restoration (under Jeremiah, Ezra or Nehemiah) that is in turn legitimated by a typology of the foundational periods of Israel’s traditional understanding of its beginnings (be it under Moses or David and Solomon). These guarantee the continuity of the tradition.

The Apocryphal Ezra (1 Ezra) Legitimation and the quest for continuity (not of apocalyptic literature or oral [rabbinic] tradition but simply of the Torah alone) are the driving forces behind the emergence of another writing connected with Ezra’s name and generally called Esdras α (or 1 Ezra) according to the Septuagint or Liber Ezrae tertius (or 3 Ezra) by the Latin Vulgate. 28 MT LXX Esdras α 1 Ezra Ezra-Nehemiah Esdras β 2 Ezra

Vulgata 4(–6) Ezra 3 Ezra 1–2 Ezra

The apocryphal 1 Ezra is a Greek translation of a Hebrew-Aramaic original that runs parallel to the end of Chronicles (2 Chr 35–36) and the biblical book of Ezra (Ezra 1–10), including Neh 8. In comparison to the biblical tradition, the Hebrew-Aramaic text of Ezra-Nehemiah and the Greek translation of the Masoretic Text in Esdras β (or 2 Ezra; 1 and 2 Ezra according to the Vulgate), we find four major deviations in 1 Ezra: 1) The order of the text of Ezra 1–4 in 1 Ezra 2–5; Ezra 1:1–11 = 1 Ezra 2:1–14; Ezra 4:7–24 = 1 Ezra 2:15–25; Ezra 2:1–4:5 = 1 Ezra 5:7–40 2) The addition of the legend of the contest of the three pages (1 Ezra 3:1–5:6) that is placed between 1 Ezra 2:12–24 = Ezra 4:7–24 and 1 Ezra 5:7–40 = Ezra 2:1–4:5 3) The immediate connection of Neh 8 (exactly 7:72–8:12, 13 initium) to Ezra 10 4) And the absence of the rest of the Nehemiah material (Neh 1–7, 8:13–18 and ch. 9–13). 28  Editions: R. Hanhart: Esdrae liber I, Septuaginta. Vetus Testamentum Graecum. Auctoritate Academiae Scientiarum Gottingensis editum 8,1, Göttingen 21991; APAT 1, 1–23; JSHRZ I/5, 375–425; and APOT 1, 1–58; cf. ABD 2, 609–611.

172

Reinhard G. Kratz

Especially in these deviations from the biblical tradition we are able to trace the specificity of the portrait of Ezra that determines the representation of 1 Ezra 8–9 (= Ezra 7–10 + Neh 8). Here, the direct connection of Neh 8 with Ezra 10 is of particular significance. The Ezra narrative now closes with a reading of the Torah during worship in the festival held on the first day of the seventh month, which is immediately followed by the festival of Booths. Torah worship, which leads to a type of aetiology for this festival that begins with the first day of the month (1 Ezra 9:49–55 = Neh 8:9–12), moves far beyond the mission of Ezra in 1 Ezra 8–9 = Ezra 7–10. Originally the mission had to do only with the delivery of the collection for the temple and an investigation into and settling of the conditions in Judah and Jerusalem according to the Torah, legitimated by the Persian king, i. e. the practical application of the Law with the help of a college of judges that eventually needed to be trained for duty. 1 Ezra 9:36 (= Ezra 10:44) states that both were done. Prior to this point the text does not mention, however, the following festival that serves no other purpose than to read aloud and explicate the Torah and to establish a holy day for the Lord. 29 Rather, the scene of worship, that combines the reading of Torah with the praise of God, interprets Ezra’s two Aramaic titles “the priest, the scribe of the law of the God of heaven” (Ezra 7:12) and their Hebrew equivalents in Ezra 7:6, 10–11. Ezra acts as a priest in a service without sacrifice. His own preoccupation with the “Law of his God” (the Torah of Moses), which makes him into a scribe (7:6, 11), does not encompass only the study and practice of the Law, but also his teaching within Israel. Nehemiah 8 understands this teaching as a priestly act and refers it to the reading and explication of the Torah in worship carried out by the 29  A different opinion is expressed by D. Böhler: Die heilige Stadt in Esdras α und EsraNehemia. Zwei Konzeptionen der Wiederherstellung Israels, OBO 158, Fribourg/Göttingen 1997, 197–216. Contrary to several other scholars, Böhler is able to demonstrate successfully that Neh 8 could neither have followed immediately after Ezra 8, nor have originated simultaneously with Ezra 7–10 in an attempt to discredit Nehemiah. He also shows that the text is independent of Ezra 7–10. But he wrongly assumes the priority of 1 Ezra and fails to offer a conclusive argument for the direct connection between Ezra 7–10 and Neh 8. The vague structural parallels of Ezra 1–3 and Ezra 7–10 + Neh 8 (op. cit. 203 f) are also true for the placement of Neh 8 after Neh 1–7 and therefore do not mean much. To join the title of Ezra in Ezra 7:6, 10 f with the royal mandate in Ezra 7:12–26 (op. cit. 210) is inadmissible, since Ezra 7:6, 10 f does not contain an order and does not announce any intention. That the Levites were gathered and brought to Jerusalem in Ezra 8 due to the reading of the Torah in Neh 8 (ibid.) is not part of the biblical text and stands in contrast to the clear distinction of Levites from judges in Ezra 7,12–26. To characterize Neh 8 as indispensable for the Ezra narrative is no more than an assertion (op. cit. 215). Furthermore, Böhler neither takes into account nor investigates the possibility that Neh 8 indeed could have been constructed as a continuation of Ezra 7–10 (directly after the chapters or after Neh 1–7) but was inserted by a different, later author (see below).



Ezra – Priest and Scribe

173

Levites. The public reading in worship and the study of Torah is not a part of Ezra’s royal mandate, but rather now both expands and concludes his mission. The Torah as the object of personal study and the administration of justice becomes part of the festival liturgy of synagogue worship – this is the innovation introduced by Neh 8. The change in the portrait of Ezra connected with this innovation even becomes apparent in the Greek translation of the titles borne by him. Ezra is occasionally, but not in all manuscripts, called “High Priest” (1 Ezra 9:39 f, 49)30 and the “scribe” is almost always transformed into a “reader.”31 The immediate connection of Ezra 7–10 and Neh 8 in 1 Ezra 8–9 creates a new climax as well as a closure for the Ezra story that now focuses on Ezra as priest and reader of the Torah. The prominent role of Ezra is stressed further by the fact that in contrast to the biblical tradition nothing follows him. In 1 Ezra Nehemiah, who is the main character in Neh 1–13 and who plays a prominent role even in Neh 8:9 MT that at least equals if not actually surpasses the one of Ezra, is mentioned only one additional time in 1 Ezra 5:40 (= Ezra 2:63/Neh 7:65), where he is identified with the other Nehemiah known from Ezra 2:2/Neh 7:7 = 1 Ezra 5:8. He is mentioned together with Hattirshatah (= Attharias), who stands alone in Ezra 2:63. Thus, Nehemiah is counted amongst the returnees who came with Zerubbabel and Joshua from Babylon.32 In Ezra 9:49 (= Neh 8:9), however, the name Nehemiah does not appear. Rather it is Attharates (Hattirshatah), known from 1 Ezra 5:40, who, in contrast to Neh 8:9, addresses Ezra and the Levites.33 In short: the author of 1 Ezra apparently knew the 30  The title ὁ ἁρχιερεύϛ for Hebrew ‫ הכהן‬is seldom found in the LXX and not all manuscripts attest to it in the passages in question: Lev 4:3, Jos 22:13, 1 Kgs 1:25, 1 Chr 15:14. 31  1 Ezra 8:8 (= Ezra 7:11), 8:9 (= Ezra 7:12), 8:19 (= Ezra 7:21), 9:39 (= Neh 8:1), 9:42 (= Neh 8:4), 9:49 (= Neh 8:9), ἀναγνώστηϛ (for Hebr.-Aram. ‫ )ספר‬occurs only here; see also ἀνάγνωσιϛ for ‫ מקרא‬in 1 Ezra 9:48, Neh 8:8, and Sir prol. 10, 17. Only 1 Ezra 8:3 (= Ezra 7:6) uses γραμματεύϛ as is common in Esdras β (Ezra-Nehemiah) and elsewhere. 32  Since the verb is in the singular in Ezra 2:63 and 1 Ezra 5:40 (καὶ εἶπεν αὐτοῖς Νεεμιας καὶ ᾽Ᾰτϑαριας), we can assume a secondary differentiation into two persons here (either made by the translator or already found in the Vorlage). This is either done by using the double name ‫ה‬/‫( נחמיה )הוא( התרשתא‬Neh 8:9, 10:2) and splitting it into two names or by adding the name of Nehemiah due to familiarity with Neh 8:9 and to the reference in Ezra 2:2 = 1 Ezra 5:8. The third bearer of the name ‘Nehemiah,’ known from the biblical material (Neh 3:16), does not appear at all in 1 Ezra. Cf. the apt presentation of the facts in Böhler: Stadt, 114 f. The priority of 1 Ezra, however, cannot be deduced from these facts alone. 33  1 Ezra 9:49 = Neh 8:9 also has the verb in the singular. In Neh 8:9 this does not fit the three subjects mentioned in the following: Nehemiah (identified with Hattirshatah), Ezra, and the Levites, and the connection in the singular ‫ ויאמר להם‬in Neh 8:10 (omitted in 1 Ezra 9:51). In 1 Ezra 9:49 we have syntactical agreement, but neither Nehemiah, Ezra, nor the group of Levites is the subject. Only Hattirshatah (Attharates) is the subject and apparently is distinguished from Nehemiah, making his another person (as in 5:40). Ezra and the Levites are a dative object and are addressed by the speech. The absence of the name Nehemiah is strange, but this should not be used to argue for a secondary addition of the same

174

Reinhard G. Kratz

Nehemiah of Neh 1–13, but, by identifying him with the Nehemiah of Ezra 2, he places him in an earlier phase of the history of the post-exilic community so that he is, in contrast to Neh 8, unable to enter the stage at the climax of this history. Everything, even the instructions for the festival on the first day of the seventh month in 1 Ezra 9:52 is focused on Ezra and the Levites and the reading and explication of the Torah held by them. Similar to the biblical tradition, the Ezra narrative in 1 Ezra 8–9 concludes the story of the rebuilding of the temple. After the last main events of the age of the first temple, the Passover during the reign of king Josiah and the destruction of Jerusalem and its temple (1 Ezra 1 = 2 Chr 3–36), there follow two phases of the reconstruction of the temple in 1 Ezra: the first one from the reign of Cyrus until the cessation of the rebuilding under Artaxerxes (1 Ezra 2),34 the other under Darius (1 Ezra 3–7), before Ezra journeys to Jerusalem to bring a collection for the temple and to establish the purity of the cult by dissolving the mixed marriages. These two phases also follow the biblical account. As in the biblical narrative, everything happens at the command of the Persian king and, of course, in accordance with the Torah of Moses (1 Ezra 5:48, 7:6, 9, 8:23 f). Naturally name in Neh 8:9 and to demonstrate in turn the priority of 1 Ezra 9:49 (Böhler: Stadt, 181). The phrase ἐπὶ πάνταϛ – often overlooked in the text-critical discussion of the passage – is equally strange, since it is not connected very well to the context. It seems to be a distant echo of the dative object, ‫לכל העם‬, in Neh 8:9 that indicates the addressees. All this points to a later change of the addressee in 1 Ezra 9:49 to reach the missing syntactical coherence and to remove Nehemiah. All deviations (the absence of the name, the change of Ezra and the Levites in the dative, the translation of ‫ לכל העם‬as ἐπὶ πάνταϛ, and the omission of ‫ ויאמר להם‬in 9:51) can be explained along these lines and add up to a conscientious reworking of the text. Böhler’s general considerations (op. cit., 179–195) regarding the relationship of the historical and the literary level of the course of the argument, his conceptual differentiations between 1 Ezra and Ezra-Nehemiah, and his investigation into the difficult and thus far unexplained word “Hattirshatah” are basically correct but do not suffice to postulate that the readings of 1 Ezra 5:40 and 9:49 are original. The motive for the addition of the name in 1 Ezra 5:40 is provided in Ezra 2:2 = 1 Ezra 5:8. That the name of Nehemiah is kept in Ezra 2:2 contradicts the deletion of it in Ezra 2:63 as postulated by Böhler (op. cit., 188). The tendency, found by Böhler: op. cit., 189 ff in Esdras β, to delete “Hattirshatah” from the Nehemiah tradition and to date it to the time of Zerubbabel seems to fit the modus operandi of Esdras α much better. Both are concerned with the correct understanding of the difficult passages in EzraNehemiah MT. 34  With a focus on the building of the Temple in the correspondence of Aratxerxes, missing in Ezra 4 MT (cf. 1 Ezra 2:17, 18), Böhler (Stadt, 122–125) seeks to prove the opposite but is only able to confirm that the substance of the correspondence aims at hindering the rebuilding of the whole city. This aim is eclipsed in 1 Ezra by the specific objective of hindering simultaneously the building of the Temple. The evidence suggests that the topic of the building of the Temple is secondary. In the light of 1 Ezra 2:24 it is impossible to argue that the decree in 1 Ezra did not hinder the rebuilding of Jerusalem (thus Böhler: op. cit., 124). In contrast to Ezra 4 where both the topic and the chronology disrupt the flow of narrative in Ezra 1–6, 1 Ezra brings together the rebuilding of Temple and city to integrate the correspondence into the context (cf. 2:17 f and 2:25 as a reaction to the decree in 2:24).



Ezra – Priest and Scribe

175

too, the public reading of the Torah during worship at the end of 1 Ezra is the climax of the history of the Second Temple. Additionally, the version of 1 Ezra has a further point. According to this text, the fact that the story of the rebuilding of the temple leads to a successful conclusion as described in the biblical and apocryphal book of Ezra, is due to Zerubbabel, who, as the third of the three pages, introduces (after wine, king, and women) the concept of “truth” (1 Ezra 4:33 ff). This latter point procures for him Darius’ patronage (1 Ezra 4:42 ff). 1 Ezra undoubtedly seems to address – like the Letter of Aristeas – an imagined pagan (Hellenistic) readership and tries to convey the important features of Jewish teachings to them. In an obvious and pronounced similarity to the Letter of Aristeas, Greek philosophy and Jewish wisdom revealed by God are related to each other in a positive way: what “truth” is for the pagan king, is the Torah for the Jewish reader. The closeness of 1 Ezra to the biblical tradition in Ezra 1–10 and Neh 8 on the one hand and the striking differences on the other evoke the question of the relationship of both versions. It seems clear that 1 Ezra uses a Hebrew-Aramaic Vorlage different from the Masoretic Text. This Vorlage has a view of things that contrasts with the biblical version of Ezra-Nehemiah. The question, however, is which version is the earlier one. Scholarship is divided here. Some scholars argue that 1 Ezra (with the exception of the story of the three pages in 1 Ezra 3–4) contains the older version, while 1 Ezra 8–9 is the basis for the narrative in Ezra 1–10 and Neh 8.35 Others regard 1 Ezra 8–9 as an excerpt from the Ezra-Nehemiah narrative and argue for the priority of the biblical version.36 According to this view, 1 Ezra would relate to Ezra-Nehemiah (MT) in much the same way that 1–2 Chronicles does to Samuel-Kings Limited space does not allow a detailed discussion of this knotty problem, but I tend to follow the second of the two views. Decisive are those passages where one is able to detect the intention of the author of 1 Ezra and where at the same time difficult elements were retained that may be explained more easily by the Masoretic version. The order and alteration of the text in 1 Ezra 1–4 reveal the intention to integrate both the correspondence of Artaxerxes in 1 Ezra 4 and the contest of the three pages into the story of the rebuilding of the temple. However, the alterations are incapable of eliminating the topic of rebuilding Jerusalem from the correspondence of Artaxerxes. In addition, one detects that even further 35  Cf. K.-F. Pohlmann: Studien zum dritten Esra. Ein Beitrag zur Frage nach dem ursprünglichen Schluß des chronistischen Geschichtswerkes, FRLANT 104, Göttingen 1970; and Böhler: Stadt. Both works discuss older scholarship on the problem. 36  A view proposed recently by Z. Talshir: I Esdras. From Origin to Translation, SCSt 47, Atlanta, GA 1999 on the basis of a detailed investigation of the composition and translation technique.

176

Reinhard G. Kratz

confusion is added to the already obscure chronology.37 Furthermore, several individual passages, including 1 Ezra 5:40 (Ezra 2:63), 9:49 (Neh 8:9), 9:37 f (Neh 7:72/8:1), and 9:55 (Neh 8:12–13) show distinct traces of the Masoretic Text.38 As long as it remains possible that 1 Ezra transposes Neh 8 from its original place in Neh 7–8, the apocryphal version may not be used to reconstruct the original Ezra narrative. Despite admittedly fluid borders, the hypothesis of a priority of 1 Ezra moves too readily from textual history to the literary genesis of the text. 39

The Historiographical Ezra (Josephus) Like 1 Ezra also the section in the Jewish Antiquities of Josephus that pertains to Ezra (Ant. 11.120–158 [5.1–5]) has to be abandoned as evidence for the original Ezra narrative. K. F. Pohlmann has demonstrated convincingly that Josephus’ account in Ant. 11.1–158 is dependant in literary terms on 1 Ezra.40 As a result, Josephus cannot be used as proof for an older or even original version of the Ezra narrative. Rather, Josephus belongs, like the epitome from Esdras α and β (published by R. Hanhart),41 to the literary history of the tradition that is subsequent to the biblical and apocryphal narratives of Ezra. Josephus does not reproduce precisely the narrative sequence in 1 Ezra. As in 1 Ezra his Ezra narrative consists of Ezra 1–7 + Neh 8, but at the end he adds Neh 8:13–18, verses missing in 1 Ezra 9. Furthermore, we find several other additions in Josephus that are not part of the biblical tradition. These are either part of a different tradition or his creation. Between 1 Ezra 1–7 (2 Chr 35 f, Ezra 1–6) and the beginning of the Ezra narrative in 1 Ezra 8 (Ezra 7), he places an additional remark about the opposition of the Samaritans to 37  Cf. n. 34 above and R. G. Kratz: The Composition of the Narrative Books of the Old Testament, London/New York 2005, 61 f; on the question of chronology see also R. Hanhart: Ein unbekannter Text zur griechischen Esra-Überlieferung, NAWG.PH 1995/4 = MSU 22, Göttingen 1995, 111–132. 38  Cf. n. 32 and n. 33 above. Also see Kratz: Composition, 69 f; Z. Talshir: Ezra-Nehemiah and First Esdras. Diagnosis of a Relationship between two Recensions, Biblica 81, 2000, 566–573. 39  Cf. R. Hanhart: Text und Textgeschichte des 2. Esrabuches, AAWG.PH 253 = MSU 25, Göttingen 2003, 11–13 n. 1. 40  Pohlmann: Studien, 74–114. 41  Hanhart: Ein unbekannter Text (cf. n. 37). The epitome is interesting for our enterprise, since it recognizes the anachronism of the Artaxerxes correspondence, a feature maintained in both versions of Greek Ezra and a problem that also the textual rearrangement in 1 Ezra cannot avoid. The epitome tackles the dilemma by leaving the narrative and refers to the book of Ezra as a source (ὡϛ ἱστόρησε ῎Ἐσδρας) when describing the resistance under Arta­ xerxes – independent from the understanding of the date (cf. Hanhart: op.cit., 122).



Ezra – Priest and Scribe

177

the rebuilding of the temple (Ant. 11.114–119 [4.9]) and concludes his account with a note on Ezra’s death and burial (Ant. 11.158 [5.5]). This section in Josephus continues the Tendenz of 1 Ezra and clearly separates the epoch of Ezra and the one of Nehemiah who are both placed in the time of Xerxes and not of Artaxerxes. Here, Josephus removes the confusion of the biblical tradition, a confusion that has caused historical scholarship considerable consternation. Apart from this and other additions, Josephus’ reworking of the older material is characterized by abridgements, summaries, transpositions, stylistic polishing (he always uses the third person), and changes of historical considerations. According to K. F. Pohlmann this is done in order to “a) seinen hellenistisch gebildeten Lesern die gröbsten Widersprüche und Ungereimtheiten des 3E zu ersparen und b) sie mit Wiederholungen oder uniteressanten Nebensächlichkeiten zu verschonen.”42 In the following Nehemiah narrative, Josephus’ account in Ant. 11.159– 183 (5.6–8)43 runs parallel to the biblical material in Neh 1:1–7:4. The biblical account is freely paraphrased and sometimes, e. g., in Neh 5, heavily abridged. Hereafter, deviations from the biblical material increase. From Neh 7–13 only the consecration of the wall (Neh 12:27–43) is reported briefly; the remark is placed between Neh 6:15 and Neh 6:16 (Ant. 11.180a). Neh 6:16–7:4 and Neh 11–13 are conflated into a brief description of the measures taken to resettle Jerusalem (Ant. 11.180b–182)44 before concluding the Nehemiah narrative also with a note on his death (Ant. 11.183). Josephus completely skips chapters 7–10 of Nehemiah and all further passages that deal with Ezra (Neh 12:26, 36). He removes and abridges the remainder of the material (Neh 11–13) according to his discretion as he already has done with Neh 1–6. It is difficult to say whether he used an apocryphal Vorlage comparable to the epitome in 1 Ezra or the biblical version of the book of Nehemiah (including chapters 7–10). While he was aware of the biblical version of Neh 1–6,45 it is possible to assume the same for Neh 7–13. The omission of Neh 7–10 and the additional passages that mention Ezra and Nehemiah may be explained with his use of 1 Ezra as a source for the Ezra narrative. All the other deletions are within the usual parameters, and reasons for them may be found in Josephus himself. On the other hand, Pohlmann: Studien, 113 f. Cf. U. Kellermann: Nehemia. Quellen, Überlieferung und Geschichte, BZAW 102, Berlin 1967, 135–145; Pohlmann: Studien, 114–126 and the discussion of older literature in both studies. 44  Not only Neh 7:4 f, 13, 10–14, 30 f are taken up in this passage (thus Kellermann, Nehemia, 141 f; more cautious is Pohlmann: Studien, 123 f, following Mowinckel), but also Neh 11 f, as Mowinckel already pointed out when he assumed a textual omission here; cf. S. Mowinckel: Studien zu dem Buche Ezra-Nehemia II. Die Nehemia-Denkschrift, SNVAO.HF 5, Oslo 1964, 9 f, 32 f. 45  Pohlmann: Studien 124. 42  43 

178

Reinhard G. Kratz

it cannot be denied that Josephus provides in his narrative of Nehemiah additional information (such as Nehemiah’s contribution to the rebuilding of the temple) that may have been derived from other sources.46 Because of the extensive reworking of his sources, the picture of Ezra in Josephus is different from the one set forth in 1 Ezra. Ezra remains a prominent priest, who is called πρῶτοϛ ἱερεύϛ (probably following 1 Ezra 8:2), but he is carefully distinguished from Joiakim, the high priest (ἀρχιερεύϛ), who was determined to be in office at the time (Ant. 11.121). Ezra remains “very learned in the laws of Moses” (ὅϛ τῶν Μωυσέοϛ νόμων ἱκανῶϛ ἔμπειροϛ, Ant. 11.121), keeps in the royal decree the title “priest and reader of the laws of God” (Ant. 11.123.127), and subsequently reads from the laws of Moses in the end (Ant. 11.154 f). In contrast to 1 Ezra 8–9 and the biblical account, however, this is not Ezra’s main task. It seems to be more important to characterize Ezra as a just man, highly regarded by the people, and to stress that he was, like Zerubbabel (Ant. 11.32), a “friend of the king” (Ant. 11.121, cf. 11.139, 158). Josephus’ portrait of Ezra is important on two accounts. Firstly, it transforms the scribe and teacher of the Torah into a person of honor who carries out the tasks assigned to him in a pious and conscientious manner. To drive this point home, Josephus adds reflections on Ezra’s motivation for his actions that portray him as an able and level-headed organizer (Ant. 11.131, 142, 153). Secondly, his depiction stresses the importance of the pagan king for Josephus’ work. Like his predecessor and father Darius, the king is introduced as a pious person, who fears and honors God (Ant. 11.120). In the following lines, Josephus frequently alludes to this aspect (Ant. 11.131 f, 136, 138) with or without parallel in the sources he used. Both narrative strands serve an apologetic tendency. As far as the role of the king is concerned, this tendency is part of both the biblical Ezra tradition and of 1 Ezra. However, Josephus intensifies it. Ezra is not simply a solitary figure, but rather a pious member of his ethnos who is loyal to his God and king. This loyalty is the source for his fame and prestige. The last scene of the Ezra narrative in Josephus is constructed completely along these lines (Ant. 11.154–157). He does not mention the first day of the seventh month, the complicated procedure of reading and explaining the Torah in conjunction with the Levites, the founding of a festival, and the rediscovery and renewal of the Festival of Booths, which is followed by a penitential prayer and the commitment to the law. Rather, he simply mentions the seventh month, the time of the Festival of Booths, and in his version the assembling of the people for the festival is asking Ezra to engage in the reading of the Torah. Ezra’s reading becomes the pretext for the expression of concern and grief. In deviation from his source, 1 Ezra 9, 46 

Cf. Ant. 11.165 (5.6) and 11.169 (5.7) with 2 Macc 1:18 ff.



Ezra – Priest and Scribe

179

Josephus explains that this reaction derives from the content of the Torah reading. This reading does not only urge the people to lead a just life, but also reminds them of their sins that have just been avenged. Here it is Ezra himself47 who brings the weeping to its conclusion and enables the people to rejoice. Only here the scene (a summary of Neh 8:1–18) is connected to the plot of Ezra 7–10. But in contrast to the biblical version and Josephus’ Vorlage in 1 Ezra 9, the scene lacks the aura of a divine revelation. The Ezra narrative is well integrated into Josephus’ concept of history who recapitulates, although with a tendency to elevate, sacred history according to rational standards comprehensible to everyone. While 1 Ezra, as far as the role of Ezra as teacher of Torah is concerned, is very close to the representation of this figure in 4 Ezra, i. e. in between the biblical tradition and the apocalypse, Josephus’ historiography, while dependent on 1 Ezra and originating at the same time as 4 Ezra, follows its own path. Like Sir 44–4948 and later Jewish tradition49 Josephus restricts himself in his Jewish Antiquities (1–11) to the Hebrew canon, i. e. those books intended for the public according to 4 Ezra 14.50 As far as additional sources are concerned, he does not rely on apocalyptic literature or on (rabbinical) oral tradition, but rather on the older Greek translation of the Septuagint and other writings from Hellenistic and Roman times. His Ezra is not a second Moses, but simply a link in the chain of prophetic authors of sacred history – not more and certainly not less.

The Biblical Ezra (Ezra-Nehemiah) Older scholarship (Eduard Meyer, Hans Heinrich Schaeder51) rightly recognized that the Ezra of Jewish tradition is based in part on the biblical tradition of Ezra. However, it is the literary figure of Ezra and not the 47  Not Nehemiah, Ezra and the Levites as in Neh 8:9 or Attharates (Hattirshatah) as in 1 Ezra 9:49. 48  Why Sir 49:11–13 mentions Zerubbabel, Joshua and Nehemiah but not Ezra remains a riddle – especially in the light of Ben Sira’s esteem for the scribal class (Sir 39). Maybe the Ezra narrative, being the latest part of the composition of Ezra-Nehemiah, was not yet well known and that widespread. 49  In view of Jewish tradition, Josephus’ remark about Ezra’s reading of the letter of the Persian king to the Jews in Babylon and his sending of it to the Diaspora in Media (the exiles of the former Northern kingdom) becomes important. As a result of the letter, several members of the Diaspora came to Babylon, choosing to return with Ezra. Most of them, i. e. the ten tribes of Israel, however, remained in the land beyond the Euphrates (Ant. 11.132 f). Jewish tradition knows that Ezra left a “pure” community behind in Babylon (see 1. above). 50  Cf. Ant. 1.5, 20.26 f and Ap. 1.37–41, 54; R. G. Kratz: Die Propheten Israels, Munich 2003, 9–12. 51  See above n. 3 and 4.

180

Reinhard G. Kratz

historical one who is present in the biblical text. Whether and where the literary figure is identical to the historical person can only be determined after a thorough literary-critical and historical investigation into the tradition. It is for this reason that we must postpone the controversial questions regarding the authenticity and historicity of the biblical Ezra-tradition either as a whole52 or in part.53 The biblical tradition is found in Ezra 7–10 and Neh 8 (–10) and 12:26, 36. It is a multifaceted and puzzling portrait due to a number of difficulties present in the text. According to the Bible, Ezra was a priest (Ezra 7:1–5) and a scribe (Ezra 7:12, 21) at the same time. It is not a given that priests always were educated. In Mesopotamia, for example, not only kings and provincial governors, but also priests and judges on occasion could be illiterate. Ezra may be an exception here. The reason for this exceptional status is found in the special duties given to Ezra as priest and scribe by the Persian king. The title provided him in the Aramaic letter in Ezra 7 (7:12, 21) mentions the “Law of the God of Heaven” as his area of responsibility. Ezra has a book of laws in his hand (7:14) in which the wisdom of his God is written (7:25). In accordance with this wisdom, Ezra is appointed to make inquiries in Judah and Jerusalem (7:14), assign judges and legal scholars who shall adjudicate matters concerning all Jews in the satrapy of Transeuphrates, and teach them to observe obediently the law of God. Indirectly, Ezra is not only acting on behalf of his God, but also on behalf of the Persian king, since the law of the God of Heaven (‫ )דתא די אלה שמיא‬is on the same level as the “law of the king” (‫)דתא די מלכא‬, if not identified with it (7:12, 25 f). What Ezra actually does with the law, which he possesses, does not correspond in every detail to the duties ascribed to him by the king. Ezra 9–10 tells of the execution of his task. He begins to examine the affairs in Judah and Jerusalem (10:16 emended). The royal order, however, does not initiate this examination; rather, it is the report of the mixed marriages Cf. the bibliography mentioned in n. 5–7. On the following see R. G. Kratz: Statthalter, Hohepriester und Schreiber im perserzeitlichen Juda, in: idem: Judentum, 93–119, esp. 111–118. The methodological approach chosen here has recently been criticized by L. L. Grabbe in a review of my book for RBL 06/2005. I must confess that I fail to understand why Grabbe excludes the historical question for the history of ancient Jewish tradition and its historical setting from the task of the historian and why he attributes it to a specific Christian orientation of (European) scholarship, i. e. an “occupation” of a “Christian biblical scholar and theologian.” Grabbe seems to have overlooked the fact that “Judaism of the Second Temple period” or “early Judaism” is not simply created from the sparse archaeological data of the Persian and Greco-Roman period. Rather, ancient Jewish (!) literature (here I am thinking, despite the objections made by Grabbe, of the Dead Sea Scrolls, the Septuagint, the Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha and the New Testament) has to be seen as an historical phenomenon that is in need of an historical explanation; this phenomenon is already apparent in the Hebrew Bible and cannot be separated from it. 52  53 



Ezra – Priest and Scribe

181

(9:1–2), forbidden by the Law. Accordingly, the marriages are dissolved by Ezra with the assistance both of officials, elders, and judges (10:8, 14) and the heads of households (10:16). Ezra’s intervention is preceded by a prayer that provides an additional theological legitimation for his judicial actions, first ordered in Ezra 7 and carried out in Ezra 9–10. It is striking that in this context, Ezra is only called a “priest” (10:10, 16). The completely different handling of the law is the result of the Hebrew paraphrasing of the Aramaic title of Ezra in 7:12, 21 that is found in 7:6, 10 f. Here (as in Ezra 9–10), the “Law of the God of Heaven” is tacitly equated with the Torah of Moses, i. e. the Pentateuch. The order to start investigations according to the law and to appoint judges is interpreted in such a way that Ezra himself researches the law, carries out its stipulations, and instructs others to do the same. With that, the focus is not only the solution of the problem of the mixed marriages in Ezra 9–10, but also the public reading and explication of the Torah during worship by Ezra and the Levites in Neh 8. Here, Ezra is alternatively called “the priest” (8:[1], 2), “the scribe” (8:1, 4, 13) or “the priest and scribe” (8:9). However, according to Ezra 7, Ezra’s area of responsibility is not limited to the interpretation of the Torah and the dissolving of mixed marriages. Rather, the main tasks of his journey from Babylon to Jerusalem are the repatriation of the exiles and the bringing of the collection of the Persian king in order to “glorify” the rebuilt temple in Jerusalem (7:27–28) on which the well-being of the Persian empire is said to depend (7:23). The task of the scribe, to provide a receipt for the donations received, is carried out by the priests (8:33–34). The political dimension of the commission becomes apparent when the order of the king is delivered to the satraps and provincial governors in the satrapy of Transeuphrates (8:36). According to all of this, Ezra does not simply have one task, but rather he has many. He is concerned with the temple (Ezra 7–8), the purity of his people (Ezra 9–10), and the hearing and doing of the law (Neh 8). As the one who leads the gl from Babylon, the biblical Ezra appears as a second Moses, and like his famous predecessor he remains hidden behind legends. The complexity of the literary components is not explained very easily.54 The widespread hypothesis of an originally independent Ezra narrative (based on the evidence of 1 Ezra or at times independent of it), that 54  Cf. the recent relevant literature that also discusses older views: D. Schwiderski: Handbuch des nordwestsemitischen Briefformulars. Ein Beitrag zur Echtheitsfrage der aramäischen Briefe des Esrabuches, BZAW 295, Berlin/New York 2000; S. Grätz: Das Edikt des Artaxerxes. Eine Untersuchung zum religionspolitischen und historischen Umfeld von Esra 7,12–26, BZAW 337, Berlin/New York 2004; J. Pakkala: Ezra the Scribe. The Development of Ezra 7–10 and Nehemia 8, BZAW 347, Berlin/New York 2004; and J. L. Wright: Rebuilding Identity. The Nehemiah-Memoir and its Earliest Readers, BZAW 348, Berlin/New York

182

Reinhard G. Kratz

removes Ezra 7–10 and Neh 8 from the context of the overall composition of Ezra-Nehemiah has to be abandoned. Several observations speak against such a view: the connection of Ezra 7:1 with Ezra 1–6, the crossreferences of Ezra 7–10 to Ezra 1–6 and Neh 1–13, and finally the integration of Neh 8 into the book of Nehemiah as a whole, which makes it possible only to remove the chapter from its context by using a heavy handed literary-critical force.55 Thus, if we accept the given distribution of the material in the books of Ezra and Nehemiah as they currently stand, the question remains as to whether Ezra 7–10 and Neh 8 were written by the same author. Scholarship seldom addresses this question, even though it needs to be tackled due to the stylistic and linguistic unevenness of the narrative. Therefore, one has to try to differentiate the Ezra-material into literary sections and to bring them into the right order. I assume that a literary development of the material ran in three phases: 1) Ezra 7–8: 2) Ezra 9–10 and 3) Neh 8(–10).56 Right from the beginning, the Ezra of Ezra 7–8 is both “priest” and “scribe” (Hebrew 7:1–6,57 11a, Aramaic 7:12, 21). What is meant by this becomes clear when we look at the specification of the scribal title in the Aramaic version (7:12, 21): “scribe of the Law of the God of Heaven.” Nothing seems to refer to the fact that the “scribe of the Law of Heaven” also was a teacher of Torah who studies it day and night and instructs his people by reading and explaining it to them. Rather, Ezra is characterized simply as secretary for Jewish religious matters.58 The “Law of the God of Heaven” 2004. On the view put forward in our essay see Kratz: Composition, 49–86, esp. 68 ff. Also see Wright: Identity. 55  Cf. Kratz: Composition, 70–73, 80–83; Wright: Identity, 86–93, 321–330. A different view is offered by Pakkala: Ezra, 167–170, who classifies Neh 8 at his own discretion and Grätz: Edikt, 35–62 who follows the order of 1 Ezra. 56  For a more detailed analysis see Kratz: Composition, 73 ff, 77 ff, 80 ff; and Wright: Identity, 295 ff, 315 ff. Different is the view of Pakkala: Ezra, passim. The basis for Pakkala’s analysis is the postulation of an original Ezra-document that contained a historical kernel. He finds this nucleus in the itinerary of Ezra 7:1*.6*.8* that is continued in Neh 8* (note the order!) and Ezra 9–10 (op. cit. 73 ff). This is necessary, because Pakkala (op. cit., 103 ff, 225 ff) wants to characterize, in following T. Veijola, the historical Ezra as a “Nomist” (similar to DtrN). His argument as a whole is a good example for mixing the literary and historical levels. 57  Most likely only the priestly genealogy but not the paraphrasing of the title in V. 6aβ γ ( ‫ )והוא … ישראל‬is part of the original text. Here, as in v. 10, 11b, the paraphrasing is clearly secondary to the simple Hebrew translation of the Aramaic title from 7:12, 21 in 7:11a. Cf. Kratz: Composition 71, 75, 83. Pakkala: Ezra, 169 n. 116, misses this point. 58  Here, Schaeder: Esra der Schreiber, 45 f, is probably right, but we have to modify his thesis due to the fact that the actual title is not an historical but rather a fictitious one shaped in imitation of the historical use; cf. C. Schams: Jewish Scribes in the Second-Temple Period, JSOTSup 291, Sheffield 1998, 46–60, esp. 54 f. On the general use of the term ‫“ דת‬law” for Jewish religion, see Dan 6:6, 7:25 and R. Rendtorff: Esra und das “Gesetz”, ZAW 96, 1984, 165–184; idem: Noch einmal: Esra und das “Gesetz”, ZAW 111, 1999, 89–91. On Rendtorff’s (probably too excessive) differentiation of the legal terminology see R. G. Kratz: Translatio



Ezra – Priest and Scribe

183

is undoubtedly the Torah. But Ezra is concerned in Ezra 7–8 only with matters regarding the temple, i. e. he brings a collection and other donations of the king for the sacrificial cult “to glorify the house of YHWH in Jerusalem” (Ezra 7:27 f). However, Ezra represents something special that was not self-evident in post-exilic times. His titles have very little to do with the office of priest, scribe or judge, offices fairly well known to us from epigraphical and biblical sources. A few details are reminiscent of these historical offices, but already the portrait of Ezra 7–8, seem miles away from official roles. Rather, the double title “priest” and “scribe (of the law of the God of Heaven)” signals the first, genuine layer of the Ezra tradition that is reflective of the unity of temple and Torah. Ezra is introduced as a priest who acts according to the guiding principle of the Torah and who assists in making the conditions at the temple in Jerusalem conform to the Torah. Already this Ezra is no longer the historical Ezra, but rather a completely literary figure. Within the narrative of the book of Ezra he continues what was begun by the first generation of returnees (Ezra 1–6), and he prepares the field for Nehemiah who will build (or continue to build, cf. Ezra 4) the walls of the city to protect the glorified temple. Ezra 9–10 paints a portrait of Ezra that is entirely different. In these two chapters, the ideal world of Ezra 7–8 is disrupted. Not only the people but also members of the temple, priests and Levites, both from the land and from the gl, have intermingled with the peoples of the lands and polluted the “holy seed.” They have entered into mixed marriages, an action prohibited by the stipulations in the Torah (Ex 34:16; Deut 7:3). As we have seen above, the only title given to Ezra in those passages is that of priest (Ezra 10:10, 16). This fits very well the context, since this section takes in hand the separation of the Jews from the surrounding peoples in order to preserve the cultic purity of both people and priests. In addition, the priestly role of Ezra is also determined by the Torah. Indirectly, the title of the scribe schooled in matters of the law is introduced from the section in Ezra 7–8.59 In contrast to Ezra 7–8, the “scribe” is not concerned with the temple, but rather with the people. Both titles, “priest” and “scribe (of the Law of the God of Heaven),” take on another dimension here. These titles are associated with the jurisdiction of the law and portray an office responsible for the implementation of Torah as binding for all areas of life of the Jewish community so that obedient Jews will live imperii. Untersuchungen zu den aramäischen Danielerzählungen und ihrem theologiegeschichtlichen Umfeld, WMANT 63, Neukirchen-Vluyn 1991, 228 f. 59  Therefore it is impossible to argue that “Ezra is consistently portrayed as scribe in Ezra 9–10” (Pakkala: Ezra, 135), the more as Pakkala excludes Ezra 7–8* and the commission in 7:14, 25 and replaces it with Neh 8. See also Pakkala: op. cit. 74 where he speaks of a “contrast between Ezra the priest in Ezra 7–8 and Ezra the scribe in Ezra 9–10.”

184

Reinhard G. Kratz

according to its commandments (Ezra 10:3). The priest and secretary of cultic matters and Jewish religion are bound together into one person who is transformed into a leader of the Jewish people and is responsible for the solution of the marriage crisis. Apparently this new role of Ezra is connected with the royal appointment of the “priest” and “scribe” in Ezra 7. It is probably the result of the king’s order to investigate matters in Judah and Jerusalem so that the community is living and acting in accordance with the law in the hands of Ezra (7:14). The order given in Ezra 7:14, on which everything from v. 15 to v.  20 is syntactically dependent, is not precisely defined. Originally, it may have referred simply to Ezra’s journey in Ezra 7–8. However, the edict was read in Ezra 9–10 (with reference to Neh 1) as taking into consideration the rather desolate situation of the entire nation. The order to appoint judges to render legal decisions according to the Torah relates to this understanding. Both of these elements are found in Ezra 9–10 (10:8, 14, 16), even though we cannot say that Ezra 7:14, 25 is carried out in every detail. If 7:14 was the literary link for the addition of Ezra 9–10, Ezra 7:25 in turn was formulated in reaction to it.60 The development, which began in Ezra 7–10, reaches it climax in Neh 8. In this chapter, the “priest” and “scribe” of Ezra 7–10 has become the person that is lurking behind the Hebrew paraphrases of the titles in Ezra 7:6, 10, 11. He is presented as one who does not simply use the Torah as a source of instruction for conducting worship in the temple (Ezra 7–8) or administer justice amongst the people (Ezra 9–10), but also as one who himself studies Torah, lives in accord with its commandments, and teaches the stipulations contained in the Torah to the people by public reading and Levitical explanation. The titles “priest” and “scribe,” which are not used precisely in Neh 8, are now related completely to the individual attitude towards the Torah and to the public use of it in worship. Both terms point to an increase and possibly to an expansion of the role of Ezra and the function and place of the Torah in Ezra 7–10. In the scene outlined in Neh 8, the public reading of the Torah appears to replace cult and law. Following the example of Ezra 9–10, both titles and roles are made dependent explicitly on the Torah and are thus newly established in Neh 8:13 ff and Neh 9–10 within the context of the Festival of Booths. What is rediscovered during the reading of the Torah and the confession of sins during this assembly leads to 60  Because of his analysis (see above n. 56) Pakkala: Ezra, 135, is forced to turn the literary relationship around and has to argue that Ezra 7–8 is the Fortschreibung of Ezra 9–10. This makes solving the literary problems more difficult than easier. For the additional character of Ezra 9–10, cf. K.-F. Pohlmann: Esra als Identitätsfigur im Frühjudentum. Beobachtungen und Erwägungen zu Esr 9, in: F.-L. Hossfeld/L. Schwienhorst-Schönberger (eds.), Das Manna fällt auch heute noch (FS E. Zenger), HBS 44, Freiburg i. Br. 2004, 486–498.



Ezra – Priest and Scribe

185

a renewal of the covenant (cf. Ezra 10:3), which not only includes a ban of mixed marriages (cf. Neh 10:31) but also encompasses the jurisdiction of cultic matters and the aggregate of life. Thus, Neh 8(–10) establishes new priorities: Ezra and the Torah do not serve the restoration of cult and law, but rather cult and law follow Ezra and the Torah. The result is, of course, the same, but the difference points to the direction in which the developing formation of Jewish religion and the Ezra legends will move. From this review of texts, the literary place of Neh 8 as the climax of the Ezra legends within the biblical tradition is easily explained. Neh 8(–10) and its events, the settlement of the people in Judah and Jerusalem (Neh 11–12), the dedication of the wall (Neh 12:27 ff), and all the other steps that lead to a consolidation of a Jewish presence in the land in Neh 12–13, are now associated with Ezra (Neh 12:26, 36) and the Torah. Neh 8(–10) serves the purpose of synchronizing Ezra and Nehemiah and highlights at the same time the factual differences. The isolated position of Ezra and the Torah in 1 Ezra and his being positioned before Nehemiah and the building of the wall in Josephus do not reflect an older stage, but rather are to be seen along the lines of the inclusion of Neh 8(–10) into the book of Nehemiah: as Ezra increases, Nehemiah decreases.

The Literary and the Historical Ezra The tradition of Ezra demonstrates a remarkable consistency. With a seemingly resolute determination, the components of the tradition move from their beginnings in Ezra 7–8, chapters depicting Ezra as an ideal priest and official of matters relating to Jewish law and cult, to Ezra 10 that portray him as a leader of the people administering justice according to the Torah, and finally to Ezra 7:6, 10–11 and Neh 8, which represent him as a scribe who studies, teaches, and lives according to Torah. The first and the last word are not spoken by the temple nor by the province, but rather by the Torah. Incidentally, the Torah outlives the temple of Jerusalem and the province of Judah. The full tradition (beginning with the biblical picture, and then developing with different accentuations in 1 Ezra, 4 Ezra, Josephus and the rabbinical material) makes it quite clear that Judaism owes its longevity and continuing vitality to Ezra, the priest and scribe. The literal interpretation of the title scribe (in Greek: reader), an interpretation that allows him to write down (or dictate) not only the Torah, but also the Hebrew canon as a whole, including even the apocryphal and non-canonical books, is simply the logical consequence of the starting point of the tradition in the Hebrew Bible. Nothing of the above can be traced back to an historical figure who worked as a priest at the temple of Jerusalem in the Persian province of

186

Reinhard G. Kratz

Judah or as a scribe responsible for Jewish matters in the Persian administration.61 However, it cannot be denied, on the basis of historical analogies and the religious-political circumstances of the Persian period, that the Ezra narrative reflects the period in which it is set and uses the propaganda and administrative practice of the Achaemenid Empire as a conceptual orientation. But all that is clearly not enough to prove the historicity of Ezra. Already in its earliest form (especially in the letter of Artaxerxes in Ezra 7),62 the literary tradition is the result of a productive Fortschreibung within the framework of the composition of the Book of Ezra-Nehemiah. From the start, it propagates a theological ideal, i. e. the ideal of a scribe and secretary guided by the Torah; for such a person (or office) we do not have any historical analogies, especially not in the papyri from Elephantine. The center of this ideal is the Torah around which the Ezra legend as a whole has grown. Similar to the Letter of Aristeas that presents the legend of the translation of the Torah into Greek, the Ezra narrative is a later legend for the gradual carrying through of the Torah as the binding, founding document for a certain branch of Judaism in the Persian and Hellenistic periods. Just as the Letter of Aristeas includes knowledge of the Hellenistic period in its presentation, so the Ezra legend utilizes facts known from the Persian period at the time of its composition. This knowledge is not simply used to provide an historical framework, but it also is utilized as an integral part of the theological interpretation of history: by a royal decree the Law of the God of Heaven, which in the current context cannot be anything but the Torah of Moses (Ezra 7:6) or the Torah of YHWH (Ezra 7:10), is elevated to the cultic and judicial constitution of the province of Judah (similar to the monotheistic confession and Jewish religion in Dan 6) and is treated judicially as equivalent to the “law of the king.” Here, we recognize the tremendous claim that a biblical Judaism obedient to the Torah is the legitimate expression and opposes any other form of Judaism that was possible (and widespread) at the temple in Jerusalem, in the province of Judah, and in the Diaspora. Even so, assertion and reality were probably not identical for a lengthy period of time. In the light of the above, the historical question of the authenticity of what is described in the Ezra narrative is pressing. Does it emerge from the memory of a significant figure in Judah during the Persian period? Was Jewish law, i. e. the Torah of Moses with or without Ezra, once introduced as a constitution for Judah by an order of the Persian government, while at the same time resolving the problem of mixed marriages? Were there different views amongst priests and Levites as to whether the temple cult 61  On the historical material and its relationship to the biblical tradition see Kratz: Statt­ halter, 106–118. 62  See Schwiderski: Handbuch, 353, 354–380; Grätz: Edikt.



Ezra – Priest and Scribe

187

or the reading and explication of Torah (as practised in the synagogue) represented true worship? What was the role of the Babylonian gl that occupies so much space in the tradition? Who were the authors of the Ezra narrative who ascribed a prominent place to him, making him into a priest from a high priestly genealogy and into a scribe of the Law of the God of Heaven, while at the same time failing to mention the High Priest in office during his time? As long as the questions refer to the contents of the tradition and its historical substance, they cannot be answered due to the lack of other (extrabiblical) sources. This lack of historical analogies simply leads to a circular argument. The alternative seems to be to ask for every imaginable historical constellation in which the tradition may be identified as a reaction to historical events and thus becomes plausible. This approach does not yield any proof and has to rely on historical imagination. It has, nevertheless, the advantage that one may utilize historical sources without having to rely solely on the biblical material which is normally simply paraphrased. Thus we may assume that the circles responsible for the Ezra tradition were themselves members of the priestly or scribal class who elevated Ezra to their ideal figure with whom they and their tradition identified. These circles used Ezra to describe a development that they themselves were part of, i. e. the transformation from scribe to scholar of law. This means that the members of these circles had resigned from their original occupation as priest, legal scholar, and teacher of wisdom and scribe, and now devoted themselves completely to the study of holy writings, i. e. the Torah, as demonstrated by the literary references within the Ezra-tradition, the Chronistic writings, the prophets, and the Psalms. These pious individuals and scholars of the Torah represent an ideal celebrated in Ben Sira in chapter 39. By inserting the Ezra narrative into Ezra-Nehemiah these scribes add a further epoch to the history of post-exilic Judah: the building of the temple (Ezra 1–6) and the internal and external consolidation of the province of Judah (Neh 1–12) is supplemented by the epoch during which the Torah of Moses, which constitutes the people of Judah as the people of YHWH and becomes valid in all areas of life, is made into the theological center for the temple and the province. By inserting the literary additions, the authors of the Ezra tradition take into account that the theological guidelines which they followed, shaped, and taught started to become the rule, rather than the exception in Judah or had already done so as the acceptance of the Torah by the Samaritans seems to prove. Presumably, the Torah started to have an effect on the shaping of the official and individual life and paved the way for the religious history of Judaism in Hellenistic times. Ezra, priest and scribe, represents an important stage on the way towards the origin of Judaism. But not in such a way that he himself introduces it.

188

Reinhard G. Kratz

Rather, tradition connects a complex historical process to a certain individual. Once introduced to the literature, Ezra, the priest and scribe, starts to influence the developing tradition and becomes an “historical” figure only by means of his embodiment in the form of Judaism that refers to him and to the “Great Assembly” (also derived from the biblical tradition) when describing its spiritual basis and institutional foundations.

Choon-Leong Seow

The Social World of Ecclesiastes Introduction Some forty years ago, Elias Bickerman characterized Qoheleth, the author of Ecclesiastes, as “a sage who in age of investment teaches not dissipation, but the enjoyment of wealth.”1 Dating the book to the Hellenistic period, Bickerman imagined Qoheleth addressing a “new business class” ever concerned with the acquisition of more wealth and constantly worried about the possibility of the loss of it. Bickerman’s provocative formulation of the issues represents the first attempt to consider the book in the light of its socio-historical context. His cue led Frank Crüsemann in 1979 to further argue that the historical context of Ecclesiastes – to him, Ptolemaic Palestine – was the key to understanding its teachings. 2 This approach received a further boost in a 1991 study by C. Robert Harrison, wherein he endorses the view that Ecclesiastes is thoroughly pessimistic and argues that the affinities between Ecclesiastes and other pessimistic texts from the Mediterranean world indicate that broadly similar socio-historical conditions in various periods and cultures may yield similar literature. 3 Accordingly, Harrison believes, one should not ask if the world view in Ecclesiastes was primarily a result of Greek, Mesopotamian, or Egyptian literary or philosophical influence. Rather, similar socio-historical conditions generated similar responses in literature. Moreover, against the common assumption that the book was written for an aristocratic audience, Harrison maintains that Qoheleth’s audience – “the people” of 12:9 – was “a new indigenous middle class,” a group of people that he characterizes, anachronistically, as “petite bourgeoisie.”4 E. Bickerman: Four Strange Books of the Bible, New York 1967, 165. F. Crüsemann: Die unveränderbare Welt: Überlegungen zur ‘Krisis der Weisheit’ beim Prediger (Kohelet), in: W. Schottroff/W. Stegemann (eds.), Der Gott der Kleinen Leute. Sozialgeschichtliche Bibelauslegungen. Bd. 1: Altes Testament, München/Gelnhausen 1979, 80–104. 3  R. Harrison: Qoheleth in Social-Historical Perspective, unpublished PhD dissertation, Duke University 1991. See also his essay, Qoheleth Among the Sociologists, Biblical Interpretation 5 (1997), 160–180. 4  Indeed, the common assumption that Israel’s wisdom literature stems from the social elite cannot be sustained – at least not for Ecclesiastes, which refers to a sage who is a commoner, miskn (9:1–16), and notes that the wise are not assured of wealth (9:11). 1  2 

190

Choon-Leong Seow

These scholars made significant contributions to the study of Ecclesiastes insofar as they have brought the issue of the question of socio-historical context to the fore. After all, in some twenty-six instances, Qoheleth is the explicit or implicit subject of the verb r’h “to see.”5 More precisely, Qoheleth observes the happenings in the world (1:14, 7:13, and 8:9), human preoccupations and strivings (3:10, 4:4, 7, 5:1–13, 8:16), divine arbitrariness as reflected in the unequal lots of individuals (2:24, 6:1), society turned upside down (3:16 and 10:7), the prevalence of injustice and oppression (3:16, 4:1, and 8:9), and how the traditional rules are contradicted in reality (7:15, 8:10, and 9:11, 13). Admittedly, these are situations that one may find in many periods in history and virtually anywhere in the world. Still, they are what the author tells us that he himself has personally witnessed. Some of these observed situations, moreover, are quite specific. Hence, one notes the case of the parsimonious man who hoarded wealth only to lose it all in a single “bad venture” (5:12–13). Or the example of the single man who was unable to stop striving even though there was no one with whom to share the fruit of his labor (4:7). Or the powerful man who committed an inadvertent error and suffered its consequences (10:5). Or the situation where the poor and the rich seem to have traded places (10:7). All these are reported as situations that Qoheleth has observed; they are situations that he reportedly encountered in his lifetime, his context. Moreover, Mitchell Dahood has pointed out that there is in the book an impressive list of commercial terms that, to him, reflects a “distinctly commercial environment.”6 Dahood’s overall thesis that the mercantile environment suggested by this vocabulary implies a Phoenician provenance in the fourth century B. C. E. cannot be sustained. Still, he is right that the vocabulary of the book indicates a deep concern with economic issues. That concern suggests that the author was addressing a particular environment. That is not to say, however, that Qoheleth’s epistemology is entirely empirical. He does draw upon traditional and literary sources as well, specifically, wisdom teachings, materials found in the Torah, and, of course, traditions about Solomon. There are suggestive parallels, too, with various ancient Near Eastern literary works, most notably, the Gilgamesh Epic and much later the Aramaic Proverbs of Ahiqar, the earliest witness to which is found on a papyrus dated to the late fifth century B. C. E.7 So there is, indeed, much that one may learn through an understanding of Qoheleth’s 5  1:14, 16, 2:1, 3, 12, 13, 24, 3:10, 16, 22, 4:1, 4, 7, 15, 5:12, 17, 6:1, 7:15, 8:9, 10, 16, 17, and 9:11, 13, and 10:5, 7. 6  M. Dahood: Canaanite-Phoenician Influence in Qoheleth, Bib 33 (1952), 220–221. 7  C. Seow: Ecclesiastes. A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, Anchor Bible 18C, New York 1995, 60–65.



The Social World of Ecclesiastes

191

“intellectual background,” as it were. Nevertheless, one can hardly ignore his own insistence that his conclusions are derived from what he has observed and experienced, that is, his social-historical context.8

Provenance The scholars cited above all assume a Hellenistic provenance for the book and each speaks of the newness of that social historical context, ironically forgetting Qoheleth’s own caveat that “there is nothing new under the sun” (1:9). Harrison, for instance, gathers numerous illuminating insights, notably from the Zenon papyri, and repeatedly refers to several social and economic phenomena as new to the Ptolemaic era, though most of these can be shown to have been in existence already in the Persian period. For instance, the system of land tenure is said to be new, but it can be demonstrated from various epigraphic sources that the system employed by the Ptolemies was merely adapted from its Persian antecedent. He speaks of Qoheleth’s original audience as a “new middle-class,” meaning no doubt people who were neither among the richest nor the poorest in society.9 Yet, the existence of various peoples in the middle strata of society can hardly be called “new” to the Ptolemaic period, for we find them already in the Persian period, if not earlier. Similarly, he characterizes the Ptolemaic period as one of rapid changes in social structure, economic relationships, high finance, and international commerce, though none of these is new to the Ptolemaic period. Those who date Ecclesiastes to the Hellenistic period have done so largely on the basis of the putative fatalistic and hedonistic “strands” of the book which are attributed to the influences of Stoicism and Epicureanism. Hence, various terms in the book are traced to Greek influences: Hebrew hebel = Greek typhos, Hebrew ‘ml = Greek ponos, Hebrew miqreh = Greek tychē, Hebrew twr = Greek skeptesthai or tērein, Hebrew yitrōn = Greek ophēlos, and so on.10 Yet, hebel is rendered in LXX not as typhos but mataiotes, ‘āmāl not as ponos but mochthos, miqreh not as tychē but synantēma (once as 8  Contra M. Sneed: The Social Location of the Book of Qoheleth, HS 39 (1998), 41–51. Sneed is entirely skeptical about locating Qoheleth’s work in a socio-historical context, concluding without argumentation that the author was a “filthy rich” intellectual and that “intellectuals are known for becoming cynical dissidents who ‘bite the hand that feeds them’.” 9  One should not, however, think rigidly of a three-tier class system in antiquity. There may indeed be several “classes” of people who are neither extremely rich nor extremely poor, including small-scale merchants, farmers, various kinds of employees, and even extremely wealthy slaves. 10  So, for instance, R. Braun: Kohelet und die frühhellenistische Popularphilosophie, BZAW 130, Berlin/New York 1973, passim.

192

Choon-Leong Seow

dokōsis), twr not as skeptesthai but as kataskeptesthai. It appears that the Greek translator(s) of LXX-Ecclesiastes from the Hellenistic period did not recognize any of these terms as Greek philosophical ideas. Except for yitrōn, which is not attested in the Bible outside of Ecclesiastes, the Greek translator(s) apparently understood these terms to be used precisely as they are elsewhere in the Bible, not as in Greek philosophy. Indeed, it is not a little curious that a book said to be so heavily influenced by Hellenistic thought should have not a single Greek loanword, in stark contrast with Aramaic and Hebrew inscriptions from the Hellenistic period, which attest several Greek loanwords and Daniel which has three or four. The expression “under the sun” is said to be a Graecism, even though the precise expression is found already in Phoenician inscriptions from the fifth century (KAI 13.8; 14.12)11 and similar expressions are found in (older) Akkadian and Elamite texts.12 The idiom ‘śh ymym in the sense of “to spend days” (6:12) is supposed to be a Graecism, even though comparable idioms are found in Egyptian and Akkadian.13 The expression “to see the sun” is taken to be a Graecism, even though it is found in clearly pre-Hellenistic passages in the Bible (Ps 49:20, 58:9, and Job 3:16) and analogous expressions are attested in Akkadian literature.14 Likewise, there is no need to explain Eccl 7:16 in terms of Theognis’ mēden agan or Aristotle’s mesotēs when there is a good Semitic parallel in the Aramaic Proverbs of Ahiqar (TAD III, 1.147). To some extent, the reticence of scholars in general to consider the sociohistorical context of the book is understandable, for its date is not easy to pin down. There is no reliable external evidence save the existence of Qumran fragments, dated to the second century B. C. E. at the earliest. Yet, notwithstanding some dissent,15 there is broad consensus that the book is 11  The presence of coins found in Sidon that date the kings whose names are on the inscriptions, the Egyptian-style of the sarcophagi on which there are inscriptions, the date of the shaft-tomb in which the Tabnit sarcophagus is found, and the allusion in Tabnit to the retribution of territory probably under the satrapial system all point to a fifth-century date for both inscriptions. See B. Peckham: The Development of the Late Phoenician Script, HSS 20, Cambridge, Mass 1968, 71–101; and T. Mullen: A New Royal Sidonian Inscription, ­BASOR 216 (1974), 25–30. 12  L. Levy: Rien de nouveau sous le soleil, dun-LimNouvelle Clio 5 (1953), 326–327; G. ˙ de Mari, Syria 32 (1952), 17; Gilg Y Dossin: L’Inscription de foundation de Iah dlun-Lim roi ˙ iv 5–8. The expression may also be attested in Aramaic, in the Sefîre inscription. See J. Fitzmyer: The Aramaic Inscription of Sefîre, BibOr 19, Rome 1967, 73–74. 13  For the Egyptian equivalent, see Shipwrecked Sailor (P. Leningrad 1115, line 24) and the Story of Sinuhe (P. Berlin, lines 29–30), both cited in WÄS IV (1930), 109. For the Akkadian expression, see the example cited in CAD IV, 234, although the example given may have been a translation based on the Egyptian. 14  So in the Gilgamesh Epic. See B. Meissner: Ein altbabylonisches Fragment des Gilgamosepos, MVAG 7, Berlin 1902, 13. 15  Notably D. C. Fredericks: Qoheleth’s Language: Re-evaluating Its Nature and Date, ANETS 3, Lewiston 1988.



The Social World of Ecclesiastes

193

dated to the post-exilic period, although there is still some debate about whether the book should be placed in the Persian or Hellenistic period. I have previously argued on linguistic grounds for a Persian period provenance for the book.16 While I readily acknowledge that a Hellenistic date cannot be precluded on linguistic grounds alone, I find no reason to follow scholars who privilege such a conclusion. Indeed, the number of terminological and thematic links with Aramaic documents of the Persian period is without parallel. There is, to my knowledge, no similar clustering of idioms in the Hebrew and Aramaic dialects of later periods. Terms like yitrôn (“surplus”), esrn (“deficit”), ešbôn (“account”), nksm (“assets”), šālēt (“to have right of disposal”), eleq (“lot”), open (“fistful”) and kap (“handful”) used as small measures, tahn (“mill”), and bêt hā’asûrîm (“prison”) all have cognates in Persian-period Aramaic.17 To be sure, some of these terms do occur in the Hebrew and Aramaic of other periods but we do not find them together in a single period other than the fifth and fourth centuries. By the same token, the expression hašlîtô laśē’t mattat (“to authorize to take up a grant”) in 5:18 reflects an equivalent technical expression in Persian-period Aramaic, ly lmnś dšn’ (“authorization to take up the grant”).18 The expression ‘ăšūqîm ‘ăšer na’ăšîm (“injustices that were done”) in 4:1 is paralleled by ‘šq ‘byd (“injustice was done”), an expression found repeatedly on a fifth-century Aramaic petition by a farmer for an injustice to be rectified (TAD I, 5.2.5, 8, 9). Interestingly, too, the injustice in this case was perpetrated with the collusion of the dyny mdynt’ (“judges in the province”). The text echoes Qoheleth’s reference in 5:7 to the ‘ōšeq (“injustice”) that his readers may be observing in the mdînâ. Again, it is not that oppression is not a common phenomenon in other times and places. Rather, it is the coincidence of terms being used to describe the phenomenon that prompts one to consider the Persian-period setting compelling.19

Money and Commerce Historians have long touted the administrative reforms of the Achaemenid government, notably the infrastructural innovations (like its postal system) and renovations (like its elaborate network of roads), reforms C. Seow: Linguistic Evidence and the Dating of Qoheleth, JBL 115 (1996), 645–666. Seow: Linguistic Evidence, 651–654. 18  TAD I, 6.4.3–4. See H. Szubin/B. Porten: Royal Grants in Egypt: A New Interpretation of Driver 2,” JNES 46 (1987), 39–48. 19  I have previously dated Ecclesiastes broadly – from the mid-fifth century to first half of the fourth (Seow: Linguistic Evidence, 666). I now think the upper end of my date too early. A Persian date in the fourth-century seems to me now more in conformity with the evidence, particularly the socio-economic picture I paint here. 16 

17 

194

Choon-Leong Seow

intended to unify the empire but that invariably facilitated economic development as well. Under Darius I (522–486 B. C. E.), the Persians instituted a highly-efficient system of taxation throughout the empire. Imperial taxes, ordinarily to be paid in precious metal, were determined for each region according to the region’s size and productivity. Locally, the taxes were often paid in kind, some of which were retained for the maintenance of local government facilities and garrisons, while the rest were kept in royal storehouses and subsequently converted into cash, either through export or through the sale of the goods in urban markets. 20 Then, to facilitate trade, especially international trade, as well as the payment of imperial taxes, the government began minting coins. Thus, under Darius I, a gold coin known as the “Daric” was struck by the central government some time after 515 B. C. E., along with silver sigloi, bimetallism being an idea borrowed from the Lydians (Herodotus, 1.94). 21 Darius was not the first Persian ruler to mint coins, for silver sigloi have been discovered antedating his issue by some three or four decades, 22 but his was the first attempt at standardization for the sake of international trade, especially with the Greeks, and in support of his reforms of the imperial tax system. The transition from a largely non-monetary economy to a monetary one is evident in the government records uncovered at the imperial city of Persepolis. The Persepolis Fortification Tablets from the late sixth century indicate that payments then were made entirely in goods, such as grain, flour, sheep, wine, and beer. 23 Even taxes were paid in kind and account records mention only goods. The Persepolis Treasury Tablets, however, suggest that by the first decade of the fifth century, the economy was beginning to become monetarized. The earliest records indicate that payment was still made in kind but, importantly, the cash values of the goods were invariably stipulated. 24 Clearly, cash had become the principle method of accounting by the government. Indeed, Cameron points to the gradual moneterization of the economy at Persepolis, noting 20  M. Stolper: Entrepreneus and Empire: The Murāšû Archive, the Murāšû Firm, and Persian Rule in Babylonia (Uitgaven van het Nederlands Historisch-Archeologisch Instituut te Istanbul 54), Leiden 1985, 28, 146. 21  E. Herzfeld: Notes on the Achaemenid Coinage and Some Sassanian Mint-Names, in: J. Allan/H. Mattingly/E. Robinson (eds.), Transactions of the International Numismatic Congress 1936, London, 1938, 413–426; E. Robinson: The Beginning of Achaemenid Coinage, Numismatic Chronicle (1958), 190; M. Root: Evidence from Persepolis for Dating of Persian and Archaic Greek Coins, Numismatic Chronicle (1988), 8–12. 22  See S. Noe: Two Hoards of Persian Sigloi, Numismatic Notes and Monographs 1936, New York 1956; I. Carradice: The “Regal” Coinage of the Persian Empire, in: Ian Carradice (ed.), Coinage and Administration in the Athenian and Persian Empires. The Ninth Oxford Symposium on Coinage and Monetary History, Oxford 1987, 73–95. 23  R. Hallock: Persepolis Fortification Tablets, Chicago 1969. 24  G. Cameron: The Persepolis Treasury Tablets, Chicago 1948, 2–3.



The Social World of Ecclesiastes

195

that in 479 B. C. E., payment was two-thirds in kind, by 470 B. C. E., it was half in kind, by 466–467 B. C. E. most records mention only payments in cash, and finally, by 469 B. C. E., we have the first tablets recording payment made entirely in cash. The economy appears to have become fully “monetarized” in that city at least. The evidence in the material culture of Palestine, too, matches what one finds in the inscriptions. Whereas coins have been found only sporadically in Palestine from the end of the sixth century on, they did not become common until late in the fifth and early in the fourth, in which period archaeologists have uncovered numerous hoards all over Palestine, mostly produced by local mints all along the coast. 25 The fact that the local mints produced coins of the Greek and Persian designs suggests, surely, some standardization of currency. In any case, by the end of the fifth and the beginning of the fourth, money had become more than a convenient medium of exchange even in agrarian Yehud. To be sure, people still bartered their wares and services throughout the empire, but for the purposes of taxation and business transactions, goods and services were typically assessed monetary values. Money was both a measure of value and the standard medium of exchange. Not surprisingly, therefore, the extra-biblical inscriptions from this period are replete with references to money, most frequently mentioned in connection with taxes, wages, rents, loans, fines, dowries, divorce payments, inheritances, and, of course, the prices of goods and services. Money was used in everyday business transactions both large and small, given as gifts and bribes, and hoarded. Money was no longer just a convenient medium of exchange; it had become a commodity, something desired for what it could bring. The numerous hoards of coins found at various sites in Palestine are, indeed, testimony to the love of money for its own sake. In light of such a monetarized economy, it is perhaps not surprising to find Qoheleth saying in 5:9, “one who loves money will not be satisfied with money.” Elsewhere in the book, too, he alludes to how “money preoccupies everyone” (hakkesep ya‘neh ’et-hakkōl, 10:19). Such an indictment is all the more poignant when one realizes that the Hebrew words may be taken also to mean “money answers everything,” suggesting that Qoheleth may have turned a cliché about the efficacy of money (“money answers everything”) into a criticism of those who subscribed to such a 25  E. Stern: Material Culture of the Land of the Bible in the Persian Period 538–332 B. C., Jerusalem 1982 [Hebrew original, 1973], 217–228; L. Mildenberg: Über des Münzwesen im Reich der Achämeniden,” in: U. Hübner/E. Knauf (eds.), Vestigia Leonis: Studien zur antiken Numismatik Israels, Palästinas und östlichen Mittelmeerwelt, NTOA, Göttingen 1998, 3–29; Y. Meshorer/S. Qedar: The Coinage of Samaria in the Fourth Century B. C. E., Beverly Hills 1991; and J. Bentlyon: The Coinage and Mints of Phoenicia: The Pre-Alexandrian Period, HSM 26, Chico, CA 1980.

196

Choon-Leong Seow

notion (“money preoccupies everyone”). A similar sort of subversion may be evident in 7:12, where the author seems to equate the security afforded by money with the security of wisdom. Here the term used for the protective power of money and wisdom is l, 26 a term that elsewhere in the book connotes transience (6:12 and 8:13). The point is that money, like wisdom, affords neither real protection nor permanent shelter after all but only the temporary relief like that provided by a shadow. Qoheleth suffers no illusions about the reliability of money or wisdom, even though he acknowledges, perhaps tongue-in-cheek, that “wisdom is as good as inheritance and an advantage to those who see the sun” (7:11). Ironically, the saying points to the fact that both wisdom and wealth are, in fact, ephemeral, like l. That skepticism is derived not from philosophical antecedents but of the reality of the author’s socio-historical context. There can be little doubt that Ecclesiastes presumes an audience deeply concerned with economic matters. Besides general terms like kesep “money,” ‘ōšer “riches,” ‘āšîr “rich,” sgullâ “private possession,” śākār “compensation,” nalâ “inheritance,” and kišrôn “success, accomplishments,” one finds a number of terms in the book that suggest a lively economic environment: yitrôn “surplus, advantage,” esrôn “deficit,” ešbôn “account,” nksîm “assets,” tbû’â “yield,” hmôn “wealth,” ‘inyān “venture, business,” ‘āmāl “toil, fruit of toil,” ‘ōbēd “worker,” and leq “lot, portion.” Indeed, Qoheleth often sounds like a pragmatic entrepreneur, ever concerned with the “bottom line”: mah-yitrôn “what is the profit?” (1:3, 3:9, and 5:15). The term yitrôn has its Aramaic equivalent found in an accounting document from the late fifth century, where it indicates “net gain” (TAD III, 3.11.6). Thus, Qoheleth is talking about the net gain of labor, as it were. If there is no profit in a particular investment, one should not waste the effort. Moreover, when Qoheleth speaks of humanity’s desperate search for wisdom, he draws on the image of a merchant or an accountant frantically checking a ledger to explain some discrepancy, examining the account item by item, “one by one to find an accounting” (7:27). The term “accounting” (šbn) is, again, a commercial term found among the Aramaic documents of the Persian period (TAD III, 3.28.79). Qoheleth makes the point that those who seek to clarify the distinction between wisdom and folly will be frustrated. They will not be able to find a clear accounting of it all. There will always be discrepancies in this confusing ledger. Ecclesiastes reflects an economic environment that is different from the largely subsistence agrarian culture of pre-exilic Judah. In the first half of the sixth century, commerce was the domain of the royal sector and 26  There is no need to emend the text to read kl, as some commentators do. The preposition b- here is beth essentiae (GKC 119.i).



The Social World of Ecclesiastes

197

trade was still largely conducted by barter. International commerce was carried out by the state, primarily from taxes-in-kind paid into the royal storehouses. As Ezekiel has it, various nations exchanged their goods with Tyre, bringing precious metal, horses and mules, ivory and ebony, precious stones, textiles, aromatics, and so forth (Ezek 27:1–25). As for Israel and Judah, they brought only agrarian products which they exchanged for Phoenician merchandise (Ezek 27:17). The cities of Judah, including Jerusalem, were essentially agricultural cities, producing for subsistence and for state taxes. 27 In the fifth century, however, commerce was democratized and no longer primarily a royal enterprise. Indeed, the Persian period is distinguished from the preceding epochs by the widespread use of money and the democratization of commerce. This extensive commercialization of postexilic Palestine is partly documented by archaeological evidence. The coastal areas saw a rise in population, perhaps indicating the increasing importance of mercantilism in this period. For instance, in a survey of the coastal region of Sharon, scholars found numerous Persian period sites, five in ‘Atlit and its vicinity alone. 28 Acco, though poorly settled in earlier times, prospered during the Persian period, when it became a thriving commercial center and sea-port. Apollonia-Arsuf was an important trading center specializing in the production of purple dye in that period. At Tell Megadim, archaeologists found evidence of a well-planned, rectangular town dating to the Persian period, with a street 90 meters long and two side streets running to it at right angles. 29 Excavations at Tell Dor suggest that the ancient city was a major trading center in the Persian period, as evidenced by the number of large storage jars found there, as well as the largest assemblage of foreign ceramic wares found anywhere in Israel.30 In the Persian period stratum, a purple-dye manufacturing installation was discovered in 1986. Recent reinvestigations of Tell Abu Hawam, the original harbor town of Haifa, have led to the conclusion that the site was a thriving regional granary and a center of the maritime trade during the Persian period, the settlement having been revived despite the marshes growing to the southwest of the site.31 A large Persian-period settlement is found at Tell Michal, where there was an industrial quarter. 32 At Tell Shiqmona, where there had been a thriving town with paved streets in the fifth century, a large subterranean storehouse has been uncovered containing scores of storage jars of various 27  H. Kreißig: Die sozialökonomische Situation in Juda zur Achämenidenzeit (Schriften zur Geschichte und Kultur des Alten Orients VII), Berlin 1973, 64. 28  Stern: Material Culture, 18. 29  E. Stern (ed.), NEAHL III (1993), 1002–1003. 30  NEAHL I, 461. 31  NEAHL I, 9. 32  NEAHL III, 1038–1039.

198

Choon-Leong Seow

types.33 Among the finds were two Phoenician inscriptions on a jar handle dealing with the delivery of wine from a settlement known as Gat Karmel.34 Further south, at Ashkelon, a series of warehouses have been uncovered, including a large building “with at least six magazines, each with about 30 sq. m. of storage space on the ground floor.”35 In site after site along the coast, then, there are signs of an expanding and vibrant mercantile economy. Yet, there are signs of commerce inland, as well. Foreign coins and imported wares are common among the Persian period artifacts found everywhere in Palestine, notably in the fifth and fourth centuries, indicating that in this period international trade penetrated deep into the hinterland of the ports.36 Storage jars designed for the transportation of goods, which had hitherto tended to be concentrated along the coast and have been found underwater, have also been uncovered at several inland sites, suggesting that agrarian products from inland were being exported.37 Evidence of commercial agriculture has been found at Tell el-Hesi in the foothills of Judah, where a series of pits used for storage of grain have been uncovered, in addition to a significant number of amphorae and jars designed for the transportation of goods. Here again the large assemblage of imported pottery bears witness to significant commercial activity in the Persian period.38 The evidence points to an expanding monetary and commercial economy in Achaemenid Palestine, as also elsewhere in the empire. While the mainstay of the economy in Yehud was still agrarian, it is also clear that agriculture was privatized and largely for profit. Collection and distribution centers were established everywhere. With the rise of commerce, cities took on new importance. Jerusalem in the fifth century was a thriving cosmopolitan marketplace where the Judeans, even on the Sabbath day, worked in the wine-presses, brought in heaps of grain, loaded the animals with goods, and hawked their agricultural products and sold food, while Tyrian residents brought fish and all kinds of merchandise (Neh 13:15–16). Competition from the gentiles living in the city probably prompted the Jews to disregard the Sabbath injunction. Indeed, when Nehemiah ordered the city gates to be closed for Sabbath, “traders and the sellers of all kinds of merchandise” camped outside the city to wait for the market to open (Neh 13:20). That was the kind of competitive commercial atmosphere NEAHL IV, 1375–1376,. F. Cross: Jar Inscriptions from Shiqmona, IEJ 18 (1968), 226–233. 35  NEAHL I, 108. 36  Stern: Material Culture, 137–157. 37  K. Hoglund: The Achaemenid Context, in: P. Davies (ed.), Second Temple Studies: I, Persian Period, JSOTSup 117, Sheffield 1991, 60–61. 38  W. Bennett/J. Blakely: Tell el-Hesi: The Persian Period [Stratum V] III, ASOR Excavation Reports, Winona Lake, IN 1989, 342–346. 33 

34 



The Social World of Ecclesiastes

199

that existed in fifth century Jerusalem. The world of Ecclesiastes presumes such a lively and competitive economic environment. For Qoheleth the silencing of the mill, perhaps meaning the commercial mills, and the closing of the doors leading to the street bazaar was an ominous sign of the end of the world and human existence (12:4).39 Certainly, an urbane audience is presumed in the book. For the author and his audience, it was axiomatic that only the fool would not know the way to the city (10:15).

Opportunities and Risks The Persians instituted an elaborate system of property grants under which rights over various properties were given to favored individuals, to military personnel, or to temple communities. Most generous were the royal grants that were given outright to relatives and friends of the crown. One gathers from the Persepolis Fortification texts that recipients of such royal grants had the responsibility for collecting the taxes from their domains, but the grant meant that they were also entitled to retain a sizable portion of the revenues.40 The grantees sometimes further divided grant portions of their fiefs to those whom they favored, in return for annual taxes and military services as needed. Such grants included movable and/ or immovable property, that is, the land and all the assets that go with it. One recipient of a royal grant was Arsames, the satrap of Egypt, who, according to Greek and cuneiform sources, was a wealthy landlord possessing assets throughout the empire. Certainly he also owned estates in his satrapy of Egypt, some of which he gave to those retainers whom he favored. In a letter dated to the end of the fifth century, one learns that a grant had been given to a certain Egyptian named Ahhapi, an administra˙ tor of Arsames’ estates in Egypt (TAD I, 6.4). The ˙grant is said to have been given (yhb) by the king and by Arsames, meaning that it was given by Arsames from a part of his own royal grant. When Ahhapi died, he was ˙˙ succeeded in his position by his son, Psamshek, who requested that the grant be transferred to him. So Arsames, who was in Babylon at that time, sent this letter to his representative in Egypt, giving Psamshek the legal authority (šly) to assume the grant (lmnš’ dšn’): “Let Psamshek his son be authorized to take up the grant there in Egypt” (TAD I, 6.4.4). From this text it is clear that a grant was not automatically transferable to one’s heirs. The heir had to be given the legal right of proprietorship (šly).41 C. Seow: Qoheleth’s Eschatological Poem, JBL 118 (1999), 216–218. Stolper: Empire and Entrepreneurs, 53. 41  For similar issues pertaining to the proprietary rights to a priestly office with rights over the income and assets that came with the office, see B. Porten, et al. (eds.), The Elephantine 39 

40 

200

Choon-Leong Seow

The Persian system of royal grants provides a backdrop against which to interpret Eccl 5:1–18. Qoheleth affirms that it is appropriate to enjoy the fruit of one’s toil, for God has authorized one to do so: Here is what I have observed is good: that it is appropriate (for people) to eat, drink, and to enjoy good in all their toil that they toil under the sun, during the few days of their lives, which God has given them, for this is their portion. Indeed to all people God has given wealth and assets, and he has authorized them to partake of them, to take up their portion, and to have pleasure in their toil. This is the grant of God.

Several terms in this passage echo the language of the royal grant: ntn “give,” šl “to have right,” nś’ “to take up,” mattat “grant.”42 Qoheleth presents life’s possibilities in terms of such grants. The deity has granted humanity certain gifts, including wealth and various assets, and the recipients of this favor are authorized to exercise proprietorship (hišlî) over this divine grant (mattat hā’lōhîm). Qoheleth uses the word lq “portion” a couple of times in this passage (5:17, 18). This word is used once in an Aramaic contract in reference to a royal grant or a part thereof: ßtnnyhy lk m[n] lqy lml, “I shall give to you fr[om] my royal portion” (TAD II, 1.1.11). The term is used elsewhere of a share of property, whether movable or immovable. Thus, in a contract between two brothers in Elephantine one reads: We are equal as one and we have divided (between) us the slaves of our mother Mibtaiah. This is the portion (lq’) that is due you as a portion (lq),   you, Jedaniah: Petosiri by name, whose mother is Taba, a slave … branded on his right hand (with) a brand reading in Aramaic thus: “(Belonging) to Mibtahiah.” This is the portion (lq’) that is due me as a portion (lq), I, Mahseiah: Bela by name, whose mother is Taba, a slave … branded on his right hand (with) a brand reading in Aramaic: “(Belonging) to Mibtaiah.” You, Jedaniah, are proprietor (šlyÿ) of Petosiri, that slave who is due you as a portion (lq), from this day and forever and your children (will be proprietors) after you. And you may give (him) to whomever you wish.

The divine Sovereign may be just as arbitrary as the Persian ruler who issues royal grants, however. Qoheleth speaks of the case of someone who somehow is not permitted to enjoy the grant:

Papyri in English: Three Millennia of Cross-Cultural Continuity and Change, Leiden/New York/Köln 1996, 351–355. The text, written in Demotic, dates to the year 460 B. C. E. 42  Szubin/Porten: Royal Grants in Egypt, 47.



The Social World of Ecclesiastes

201

There is a person to whom God gives wealth, assets, and plenty, so that there is nothing lacking of all that is desired, yet God does not authorize that one to partake of them, but rather, a stranger consumes it. (Eccl 6:2)

In this instance, the right to enjoy the wealth and assets seems to have been given to an outsider, a nokrî. The grant is given to someone else and not to the rightful heir. Again, one may understand Qoheleth’s sentiments in the light of the administration of royal grants during the Persian period. There is another Aramaic letter written by the satrap Arsames to the manager of his estates in Egypt (TAD I, 6.11). It seems that a steward of Arsames named Petosiri had written a letter to the satrap. Petosiri’s father had been given the rights over a piece of property of a certain size, but the land was abandoned when the father died during some social unrest. So the son, Petosiri, asked to be considered for the grant that his father had received: “Let him (that is, Arsames) take thought of me, let him give (the land) to me. Let me hold it as heir.” The satrap then ordered his representative in Egypt to investigate the case. If the property in question had not already been given to someone else, Arsames instructed, then it should be given to Petosiri, but Petosiri must pay the appropriate taxes, as his father had done. The fact that the father had received the grant and the fact that Petosiri was the rightful heir did not mean that he was automatically allowed to enjoy the benefits. The grant had been issued to an individual, but the giver of the grant must still give the authorization for the grant to be assumed by the heir of the original grantee. The outcome of the investigation of this particular case is not known. Arsames’ letter makes clear, however, that there was no guarantee that Petosiri would receive the authorization. It was entirely possible that the property had in fact been given to someone else – to an outsider. There was a considerable amount of arbitrariness in the Persian system of royal grants. The Great King gave grants to his relatives, friends, and favorite subordinates, but others were left out. The king’s powerful relatives and allies who received the large grants also parceled out their assets to their friends and favorites, apparently with the same arbitrariness. It must have appeared to the “have-nots” that what one receives was entirely dependent on the whim of the giver. There were fortunate people who fared extremely well, and there were the unfortunate ones who received little or nothing. Life is like that to Qoheleth: people receive whatever portion the divine Sovereign chooses to give. So Qoheleth speaks of those who are favored by God and those who are not so fortunate (2:2–26 and 7:26). The former are lucky enough to be favored with the good life; the latter are plain unlucky people who will miss the mark. The former are given wisdom, knowledge and joy, but the latter are given the task of collecting and gathering for others to enjoy. God is seen here to be like the

202

Choon-Leong Seow

human sovereign, the Great King of the empire or the powerful satrap, who arbitrarily gives grants to favorite friends and courtiers, while others are left out. Divine grants, like royal grants, created a distinction between the “haves” and “have-nots” – those who could enjoy and those who could not. Besides the royal grants given by the king to family, friends, and other favorites, there were also grants given to various people on condition of military service and/or payment of an annual tax. The most important evidence for such grants comes from various collections of Neo-Babylonian texts, notably from the archive of the Murashu business house in Nippur.43 The lands so acquired were initially not alienable, but in time the proprietors were permitted to sublet or pawn their lands. These fiefs were sometimes shared by a number of co-proprietors, with the rights of proprietorship being transferable in each case by inheritance. And through the division of inheritances, the average size of properties available for economic exploitation became smaller and smaller, thus reducing the efficiency of the lots, while providing even the lowliest people in society to harbor hopes that they, too, might have a chance to improve their lot. To meet the demand for taxes paid in silver, fiefs were often converted into cash-producing rental properties. In all cases, taxes and services remained obligatory. The tenant farmers and workers paid their dues to the smallholders whose property they rented, and the smallholders in turn paid those above them, and so forth. Through this elaborate system of land grant, then, the Persian rulers were able to control and exploit the provinces. The multi-level economic exploitation in fifth-century Palestine is partly attested by Nehemiah: “the former governors who were before me laid heavy burdens upon the people, and took from them food and wine, besides forty shekels of silver. Even their retainers exercised proprietorship (l) over the people” (Neh 5:15). Taxes were extracted at several levels: local, regional, provincial, satrapial, and imperial. And there were taxes of various kinds, three of which are mentioned in the book of Ezra (Ezr 4:13, 20, and 7:24). This system caused the stratification of society, as a number of dependent classes were created. There were ample opportunities for people to ascend the financial pyramid. Neo-Babylonian documents from the period show that there were slaves who borrowed substantial sums of money or otherwise accumulated enough wealth to buy their own slaves, trade independently, participate in all kinds of business ventures, hold various assets, rent property, and even acquire expensive real estate.44 Slaves could borrow money Stolper: Entrepreneurs and Empire, 24–27. M. Dandamaev: Slavery in Babylonia: From Nabopolassar to Alexander the Great (626–331 B. C.), rev. ed. translated by V. Powell, DeKalb 1984 [Russian original, 1974], 320–397. 43 

44 



The Social World of Ecclesiastes

203

for investment. Some bought or leased real-estate, which could then be rented out or subleased. Others leased storehouses. Still others owned or leased workshops, farms, orchards, and livestock. It was possible, in fact, for slaves to become quite rich. From the Murashu archive, for instance, one learns of a certain Ribat son of Bel-eriba, a slave of Rimut-Ninurta of the business firm of Murashu and Sons. Ribat paid taxes for an office that he held, loaned large sums of money and amounts of grain and dates to various individuals (including Rimut-Ninurta!), leased out several workers and 416 head of sheep and goats in the space of a single day, rented land to others, leased access to a canal with other assets that went with it, and served as a guarantor for various debtors. Ribat had become a rich entrepreneur. In one text, one learns that Ribat, together with Rahim, another ˙ slave of Rimut-Ninurta, subleased a piece of land for three years, together with livestock, equipment, and seed. Thus, Rimut-Ninurta, who had the land rented or mortgaged to him, subleased it to his slaves, who later subsubleased part of that land, together with some livestock, equipment, and seed to their own slaves.45 Certainly the opportunities were there during the Achaemenid period for people to climb the ladder of success, but they were also easily exploited. In a tantalizing but textually problematic passage, Qoheleth seems to allude both to the economic exploitation and the opportunities in such a society: If you see the oppression of the poor and the violation of justice and right in the province, do not be surprised over the matter – for an arrogant one is above an arrogant one, (and) arrogant ones have watched over them all. (Eccl 5:7–8)

The latter part of the passage has traditionally been interpreted to be a reference to the imperial bureaucracy. For that interpretation to work, however, the word gābôah (literally “high one”) must be taken to mean “a high official,” a meaning it does not have anywhere in Hebrew. Moreover, the text is about economic exploitation and personal ambition. It seems likely, therefore, that it is referring not to government bureaucrats but to ambitious people, who are climbing the social-economic ladder. The arrogant ones keep ascending, but no matter how high they climb, there are always people higher up than they, who look down on them. The text goes on to speak of the insatiability of the greedy: “the one who loves money will not be satisfied with money, and whoever loves abundance will not be satisfied with yield” (5:10). These people keep consuming more and more, but they never seem to have enough. Elsewhere in the book, Qoheleth says it is envy that drives people to vain pursuits (4:4). For them, Qoheleth counsels 45 

See Stolper: Entrepreneurs and Empire, 148–149.

204

Choon-Leong Seow

that it is better to have the smallest amount of anything with rest than to have twice as much with “toil and pursuit of wind” (4:6). The author addresses those whose “eyes are not satisfied with wealth,” who toil and toil even though they have neither descendants nor kinfolks with whom to share their wealth (4:7–8). The fear of poverty and the possibility of wealth prompted people to be excessively driven and to be ever discontented with what they had.46 So they were unable to enjoy their present lot, because they were to trying to move ahead and climb up the social-economic ladder. Qoheleth’s repeated exhortation, however, is to enjoy what is before one’s eyes and partake of the fruit of one’s toil (2:24, 3:1–13, 22, 5:1–18, 6:6, 7:14, 8:16, and 11:9). For him, the grant that one receives from God is meant to be enjoyed. Indeed, enjoyment itself is a grant from God (3:13 and 5:18). It is humanity’s portion. Qoheleth’s attitude, in fact, parallels Ahiqar’s advice to be content: [Do not despise the littl]e (thing) which is your lot and do not covet a large (thing) which is withheld from you. [Do not multiply] wealth and do not lead astray your heart. (TAD III, 1.1.13–137)

Like the audience of this wisdom text in Achaemenid Egypt, who apparently also had opportunities to accumulate wealth, Qoheleth’s audience does not seem secure with what they have. Rather, they are constantly toiling to acquire more and more, and they are worried about the possibility of losing what they have. They do not appear to be among the wealthiest in their society. They are paranoid about disparaging remarks that their subordinates may be making about them (7:21). At the same time, they themselves are making disparaging remarks about their bosses, the rich and powerful (10:20). They are people who are socially and economically in the middle, having subordinates beneath them but also superiors in wealth and power. Qoheleth distinguishes them from the nobles, the princes, and the rich (10:16–20), but he never implies that they are poor. The recipients of Qoheleth’s instructions are commoners – the small smallholders, homesteaders, and people of the middle classes. They are susceptible to the various occupational hazards that the ordinary workers face: they are perfumers whose precious products could be contaminated by a single dead fly (10:1), hunters who dig pits to trap animals, farmers who remove stones from old fences in order to build new ones, wood46  A fifth-century Demotic text from Egypt indicates the same environment: “Wealth was given to you in order that you (might) reveal your character.” See Porten et al.: Elephantine Papyri in English, Text C26, line 9. The same sentiment is echoed in Papyrus Insinger, col. 15, line 19: “money is the snare the god has placed on earth for the impious man so that he should worry daily,” translated by M. Lichtheim: Ancient Egyptian Literature III: The Late Period, Berkeley 1980, 197.



The Social World of Ecclesiastes

205

cutters and quarry workers (10:10). They are ordinary citizens facing the vagaries of a rapidly changing social world. They are people of the middle classes who are trying to scale the social pyramid without sliding down into poverty. They are people caught between the impulse to protect and conserve whatever they have (5:12–16 and 11:11–12) and the desire to get rich (4:4–6). They are a people caught between the opportunities and risks of a volatile economy. Among the various social classes mentioned in the book are the šallîîm. Most commentators have assumed that these šallîîm were political figures of some sort and, hence, the word is usually translated as “rulers,” “tyrants,” “governors,” or the like.47 But the term šallîh probably refers to wealthy land barons of the time, people who have been given the right of disposal over movable and immovable property. A šallî is a proprietor – someone who has the right over property (7:19 and 8:9). This meaning is evident in various texts from the Persian period. In an Aramaic contract from Elephantine, dated to the reign of Artaxerxes I, one reads of a father’s bequest to his daughter: You are proprietrix (šly) over it from this day and forever, and your children after you (will be proprietors). To whomever you love you may give it. I have no other son or daughter, brother or sister, or woman or another man (who is) a proprietor (šlyÿ) to that land but you and your children forever. (see TAD II, 2.3.9–10)

The same usage of the term is found in a marriage contract dated to the same period, also from Elephantine: Tomorrow or an[oth]er day, should Eshor die without having a ˙ wife, it is Mipta h iah child, male or female, by Mipta[h ]iah his (who) will be proprietrix (šlyÿh) ˙over the house of Eshor ˙ and [hi]s assets (nkswhy) and property and all that he˙ has on the face of the whole earth. Tomorrow or (one) day, should Miptah iah die without having a child, male or female, by Eshor her husband, it ˙ (who) shall inherit her assets (nksyh) and property. ˙ is Eshor ˙ (see TAD II, 2.6.17–22)

The šallîyîm in Palestine were rich and powerful landowners, who no doubt exacted taxes from the tenant farmers, part of which they paid to higher authorities. It is possible that some of these were the people whose names and/or insignia appear on a variety of seal-impressions found in 47  The verb šl is “to have right (of disposal)” and occurs in Ecclesiastes in reference to the disposal of inheritance and assets (2:19, 5:18, 6:2). See J. Greenfield: Two Biblical Passages in the Light of Their Near eastern Background – Ezekiel 16:30 and Malachi 3:17, EI 16 (1982), 56–61. The fact that there could a plurality of šallîîm in a single city (7:19) indicates that the term could not be referring to local rulers.

206

Choon-Leong Seow

Palestine dating to the Achaemenid period.48 The stamps may have been used for gathering local taxes-in-kind or they may have been the trademarks of the proprietorial estates. The proprietors were required to pay annual taxes and render military service as needed. In many cases, however, they hired substitutes to fulfill their military obligations. This practice is well documented in contemporaneous texts from Mesopotamia. In one instance, a certain Abi-Yaqari requested a home-born slave (Akkadian mār bīti = Hebrew ben-bayit) named Tirakam to be his substitute: “Bear the responsibility of my obligation.”49 In return for that service, Abi-Yaqari promised to pay his substitute a sum of barley annually, a payment large enough to allow the slave to start his own small business.50 From the private records of a certain Kusur-Ea, a ˙ barber from the city of Ur, one finds the following: Nidintu-Sin the son of Sin-ahhē-iddina said to Kusur-Ea the ˘ ˘ money, provisions, (and) ˙ son of Sin-a aē-bullit: Give me all ˙ the equipment according to (the rates) of the dispatches of the citizens of Ur. Let me go to the muster of the king in the eighth year of King Artaxerxes (i. e., 397 B. C. E.). Whenever the king gives an order regarding your obligation, let me fulfill (it). Also the mission of the king, whenever he gives an order regarding your obligation (I will fulfill). (UET 4, 109)

Kusur-Ea accepted the offer and Nidintu-Sin, the volunteer-substitute, was˙ paid according to the standard rates for such dispatches from Ur. We learn from other texts in the archive that Kusur-Ea had acquired the in˙ The partners were able to fantry fief along with four other co-proprietors. buy the fief, probably from a financially insolvent soldier. But instead of performing the military service himself, Kusur-Ea decided to pay Nidin˙ tu-Sin to be his substitute. Substitutes were paid in various ways: in cash, grain, shares of property or yield, and the like. In the Murashu archive we have evidence that an estate may be divided or otherwise sublet in exchange for an agreement to fulfill the obligations of the fief: Give me the field […] which are at your disposal for performance of royal service; let me take possession of them. I will perform the royal service due from them, and I will take for myself the crops, the barley and dates, which (grow) on them, as compensation for the royal service. 51 See Stern: Material Culture, 196–214. UM 28, see G. Cardascia: Les archives des Murašû, une famille d’hommes d’affaires babyloniens à l’époque perse, 455–403 av. J.-C., Paris, 1951, 165–166. 50  Stolper: Entrepreneurs and Empire, 125–130. 51  Cited in Stolper: Entrepreneurs and Empire, 61. 48  49 



The Social World of Ecclesiastes

207

A variety of such contracts is found in texts from the Achaemenid period. Although the sending of substitutes into battle was explicitly forbidden in earlier Babylonian laws,52 the existence of such laws suggests that the practice must have been common. Otherwise there would have been no need to legislate. In the freewheeling economic environment of the Persian period, it became a common practice for the rich to hire substitutes whom they could send to do their military duty for them and perhaps to die on their behalf. The poor were willing to bear the responsibilities for a chance to get out of poverty. The long-standing Babylonian laws were disregarded in favor of economic pragmatism under the new regime, with its policy of “free enterprise.” In light of this background we are better able to understand Qoheleth’s polemic against the rich and powerful. He says in 8:8, There is no one who is proprietor (šallît) over the life-breath, to detain (liklō’) the life-breath, and there is no proprietorship (ônšilt) over the day of death. There is no substitution in the battle, and wickedness will not deliver those who practice it.

The point that Qoheleth makes is that proprietors may be rich and powerful, but no one has proprietorship over the rûa (“life-breath”). No one can detain it.53 No one owns the day of the death. When the time comes for one to fight the battle with Death, no one can hire a substitute. No one can buy life. Thus, this passage is a social commentary. Qoheleth refers to the terrible things done in his generation, a time when people “exercise proprietorship” (šl) over one another (8:9). The economy provided opportunities for the ambitious. Poorer people could begin by borrowing, or by hiring themselves out to acquire capital, as Tirakam the home-born slave did. They could begin with smaller lots or with rental property. Or they could pool their capital with others in various joint ventures, as Kusur-Ea the barber and his partners did. From Elephantine in Egypt we have˙ a contract for such a cooperative enterprise. In this instance, a certain “Padi the son of Daganmelek” entered a joint venture as what we may call a “silent partner.” Padi agreed to supply a plot of land, while his partner was to contribute seed for sowing and the labor. And it was agreed that both partners were to share any profit and loss: “the good and the bad we divide as one, equally” (TAD II, 1.1.5–6). There are many examples of such joint ventures in Akkadian texts from the same period. In one case, recorded on a tablet from the Murashu archive, two See the Code of Hammurabi, Laws 26, 33; ANET3, 167. Hebrew kl’ corresponds to Akkadian kalû, the verb used in the cuneiform documents for the detention of debtors who default on their payments. By the same token, debtor prisons were called bīt klī “house of detention.” 52  53 

208

Choon-Leong Seow

individuals agreed to farm a leased property together.54 There was also the joint venture of Ribat and Rah im, the slaves of Rimut-Ninurta (PBS ˘ 2/I, 106). These kinds of joint ventures may lie behind the saying in Ecclesiastes that “two are better than one, for they have better compensation for their toil” (4:9). People who share their resources are able to invest in bigger and better ventures and reap greater profits. Along with the economic opportunities, however, there were risks. Usually the smallholders had to pay a very high price for their investments. From Egypt of this period we have a number of documents dealing with loans of both cash and grain.55 In general the amount of loan was small, averaging only about 4 shekels. These were consumer loans, procured by the average citizen for consumption. The interest rate for such loans was high and the penalty for default severe. In one instance, a woman secured a loan of 4–6 shekels at the compound rate of 5 % per mensem, that is, 60 % per annum (TAD II, 3.1). According to another contract, failure to repay the loan by the stipulated deadline meant that the loan (with its interest) was doubled: the interest would be 10 % per mensem and 120 % per annum (TAD II, 4.2). The extremely high interest rate is startling. Clearly the demand for money was great, and it was easy to fall into debt. Some people went into debt to obtain capital for investment, but others did so merely to survive. The smallholder was extremely vulnerable in such an economic environment. This environment is reflected in an instruction in the Proverbs of Ahiqar: Borrow the grain and the wheat that you may eat and be satisfied and give to your children with you. [Do not take] a heavy [l]oan; Do not borrow from an evil person. Moreover, [i]f you do take a loan, Do not give yourself rest until [you repay] the [l]oan, […] the loan is nice whe[n there is a need], But its repayment is a houseful. (see TAD III, 1.1.129–131)

The text assumes that many people had no choice but to borrow merely to survive. Ahiqar’s advice, however, is to keep debts to a bare minimum and not to delay the repayment. Although not explicitly stated, one may assume that the saying here alludes to the extremely high interest rates. Loans are nice when there is a need, the text says, but the payment of the debt will be terribly exorbitant – a “houseful.” In the event of a default, the creditor is entitled to seize the debtor’s entire estate, including the debtor’s house, slaves, grain, food, and even the children. And the liability is extended to the children if the debtor dies without paying the debt. 54  See A. Clay: Business Documents of Murashû Sons of Nippur Dated in the Reign of Darius II, CT X, Philadelphia 1904, 28–29. 55  See TAD II, 3.1, 3.13, 4.1, 4.2, 4.7.



The Social World of Ecclesiastes

209

In Palestine the Jews faced a similar environment when they returned from Babylon. In the first place, those who came back were not necessarily the wealthy elite. A large number of the repatriates were people forced by economic circumstances to migrate. To make matters worse, drought and famine impoverished repatriates further. Their plight is recorded in the book of Nehemiah: There were those who said: “We are mortgaging our fields, our vineyards, our houses so that we may get grain during the famine.” And there were those who said: “We have borrowed money for the king’s tax upon our fields and our vineyards. Now we are of the same flesh and blood as our kin and our children are as their children. But we are at the point of bringing our sons and our daughters into the bondage of slavery; indeed, some of our daughters are (already) enslaved, and we are powerless to do anything about it, for our fields and our vineyards belong to others.” (Neh 5:3–5)

We may note in passing that the response to famine reflects a monetary economy. Whereas in earlier days the only viable option in the face of drought and famine was to emigrate en masse in search of food (Gen 12:10, Ruth 1:1–2, and 2 Kgs 8:1–3), the immediate solution in the postexilic period was to borrow money or to pawn one’s assets in order to buy grain. There was also no letup of the imperial taxes. So people had to borrow to eat and to meet their financial obligations. And when they defaulted on their debts, their properties were foreclosed and their children taken into custody or sold into slavery. That was the situation in Judah during the time of Nehemiah in the second half of the fifth century. With the end of the famine and the social reform initiated by Nehemiah, the conditions presumably improved. Nevertheless, the experience of extreme poverty must have remained in the memory of Qoheleth’s audience. It should hardly be surprising, then, that people in Qoheleth’s time should be toiling endlessly to accumulate as much wealth as possible. Whatever improvements there might have been, the dangers were still present. What happened in an earlier generation could happen again. A Persian period document has been found in the caves of Ketef Yerih o which contains a list of people who owed money, all of whose names are˙ Jewish.56 The papyrus is written on both sides, one side giving the amount owed by each individual, the other side the amount paid. The amount owed is small in each case – either 2 quarters (of a shekel), 1 shekel, or two shekels. From the same period, too, come the Wadi Daliyeh papyri, which record the sale of slaves, including one, possibly a child, for the remarkably low price of only 56  H. Eshel/H. Misgav: A Fourth Century B. C. E. Document from Ketef Yeriho, IEJ 38 ˙ (1988) 158–176.

210

Choon-Leong Seow

10 shekels (Samaria Papyrus 3.3).57 The labor market in Palestine was no doubt affected by the influx of new immigrants who returned under the Persian policy of repatriation. So labor, including slave labor, was cheap in Palestine. Conversely, in Mesopotamia, where labor was scarce probably because of the repatriation of foreign captives and the use of corvee workers on imperial estates in Persia itself, slave prices rose by as much as 50 % over the previous century.58 An adult slave cost about 6–100 shekels in fifth-century Babylon. The economic environment apparently favored the political elite and the most influential entrepreneurs, not the smallholders and small-scale investors. In consequence, the gap between the elite and the dependent classes widened. The rich became exceedingly powerful, the poor vulnerable to exploitation. This social condition is reflected in the Aramaic Proverbs of Ahiqar. It was axiomatic that the average person could not easily challenge the rich: With one who is more exalted than you, do not pick a quar[rel;]59 With one who is nobl[er] and mightier than you, 60 [do not […] for he will take] from your portion and [he will add] to his own. (TAD III, 1.1.142–144)

The vulnerability of the commoner is evident in other texts from Elephantine. In one instance (TAD I, 5.2), a farmer complained of a miscarriage of justice. He had apparently worked on a field but was not paid. The matter was brought before the “judges of the province” (dyny mdnt’), but the petitioner still felt that “indeed oppression was done” (‘wq ‘byd, lines 5, 8, 9). We do not know the details because the text is fragmentary. Perhaps the judges had taken a bribe. We know only that the poor man had already lost in the first stage of the legal process because the provincial judges were not on his side. A comparable social environment is reflected in Ecclesiastes. Qoheleth complains of injustices being done (hā‘ăšūqîm ’ăšer na‘ăśîm) and he observes that those who have been treated unjustly have no one on their side (4:3). The problem seems to have been the competitive culture, in which people are driven by envy to strive for success and they cannot seem to be 57  The average price for a healthy adult slave, though, was about 30 shekels. See D. Gropp: Wadi Daliyeh II: The Samaria Papyri from Wadi Daliyeh, DJD XXVIII, Oxford, 2001. 58  W. Dubberstein: Comparative Prices in Later Babylonia (640–400 B. C.), AJSL 56 (1939), 34–36. 59  Reading t‘bd n[yn] with P. Grelot: Les proverbs araméenes d’Ah iqar, RB 68 (1961), 189. ˙ See also J. Lindenberger: The Aramaic Proverbs of Ahiqar, Johns Hopkins Near Eastern Studies, Baltimore/London 1983, 142. 60  Reading ‘m zy y[l] w‘zyz mnk. See Lindenberger: Aramaic Proverbs of Ahiqar, 143.



The Social World of Ecclesiastes

211

satisfied (4:8). In that environment the poor could not count on the legal system to protect them (3:16), undoubtedly because of corruption in the courts. Elsewhere, Qoheleth speaks of oppression (‘šq) of the poor and the taking away of justice in the province (mdynh), while the arrogant protect one another (5:7–8). There, again, the problem is that people are driven by greed and ambition, and the evil of their greed is portrayed in terms reminiscent of the gaping mouth of personified Death, attempting to swallow up the whole cosmos (6:7–9). In 7:7, Qoheleth again alludes to injustice (‘šq) and the taking of a bribe (mtnh). The impression one gets is that there are people who are willing to do anything in order to get ahead in that competitive economic environment, and the rich are somehow circumventing the law at the expense of others. Moreover, even though it was possible to appeal the decision of a lower court, as we see in the petition from Elephantine, a drawn-out legal process would certainly have favored the rich. Indeed, according to Qoheleth, the slow legal process encouraged people to act wickedly: “Since sentence for evil work is not executed quickly, people dare to do evil; an offender does the evil of hundreds but endures” (8:1–12a).61 In context, it seems likely that author has in mind the rich proprietors who seem to think that they can exercise their power at will (8:7–9). The ordinary citizen was at the mercy of the rich and powerful proprietors, the provincial judges and other officials. They had also to be weary of the government, with its host of spies. Hence, Qoheleth warns his audience to watch what they say: “Even in your intimacy do not disparage a king, nor in the bedroom disparage a rich person, for a bird of the sky may carry the utterance and a winged-creature may report any matter” (10:20). The instruction echoes a passage in the Aramaic Proverbs of Ahiqar: [My] son, do not c[ur]se the day until you have seen [nig]ht;    do n[ot] let it come upon your mind;    for their e[yes] and their ears are everywhere. B[ut] watch your mouth;    do not let it hem [you] in.62 Above all guarding, guard your mouth. And [as for] what [you have] heard,    you should be very resolute,63 for a word is a bird–the one who releases it is a m[ind]less man. (see TAD III, 1.1.80–82)

Both Ecclesiastes and the sage of Ahiqar are probably alluding to the Persian network of spies. In one document from the Elephantine archive, dating to 410 B. C. E., there is a reference to certain officials appointed by Reading rā‘ mē’ōt in verse 12a, instead of rā‘ m’at in MT. Literally, “do not let it be your trouble.” 63  Literally, “you should harden your heart.” 61 

62 

212

Choon-Leong Seow

the government as part of their law enforcement system, including agents called typty’ and gwšky’ (TAD I, 4.5.9). The first term, also attested in Dan 3:3 (tpty’), is a loanword from Old Persian tipati, a word related to the roots *tai/ti- “to see, look, watch” and pati, “chief.”64 The second term is also derived from Old Persian gaušaka “listener.”65 The Greek sources refer to secret agents of the Persian imperial government, known as “the king’s eyes” and “the king’s ears.”66 It is perhaps not a coincidence, then, that Qoheleth paints a picture of a citizenry terrified of the arbitrary power of the rulers: 〈 〉Keep the king’s command,67 yea, according to the manner of a sacred oath. Do not be stupefied at his presence, leave! Do not persist in a harmful thing, for he will do whatever he pleases. Inasmuch as a king’s word is authoritative, who can say to him “What are you doing?” (Eccl 8:2–5)

Commentators typically suppose that this passage reflects the conditions of the Ptolemaic period. Yet, the best parallel comes from the Aramaic Proverbs of Ahiqar, a literary text found among the Aramaic papyri at Elephantine:68 Do not disregard a king’s command; Let it be a healing [for] your [hea]rt. (Though) the king’s speech is tender, it is sharper and more dangerous than a [double-]edged knife. See! Before you is a difficult matter; Do not stand [against] the face of the k[in]g. His anger is swifter than lightning: You, watch yourself! Do not let him show it because of your words, Lest you die [be]fore your time. […] of the king, (when) it is directed at you as a burning fire, hurry, do it! Let it not be kindled against you, And you should cover your palms. 64  W. Hinz: Altiranisches Sprachgut der Nebenüberlieferungen, Göttinger Orientforschungen III, Wiesbaden 1975, 236. Compare German, Wachtmeister. In Malay, the term for “police” is mata mata, literally, “eyes.” 65  Hinz, Altiranisches Sprachgut, 105–106. The term is preserved in Armenian, gušak “informant” and Middle Persian gōšag “spy.” 66  Xenophon, Cyropaedia VIII.ii.10; cf. Lucian, Adv. Indoctum 23, Herodotus I.114, ­Aeschylus, Persae, 979; see J. Balcer: The Athenian Episkopos and the Achaemenid “King’s Eye,” American Journal of Philology 98 (1977), 256–257. 67  Reading yšanne’〈 〉nnû instead of yšunne’ ’ănî in MT, which makes no sense. See Seow: Ecclesiastes, 278. 68  See S. Jones: Qoheleth’s Courtly Wisdom: Ecclesiastes 8:1–9, CBQ 68 (2006), 211–228.



The Social World of Ecclesiastes

213

[More]over, the command of the king (Perform) with the delight of your heart, [H]ow can wood contest with fire, flesh with a knife, or anyone with a king? I have tasted the bitter medlar and the [taste] is strong, but there is nothing that is more [bi]tter than poverty. The language of the k[ing] is tender, But it will break the ribs of a dragon like death which is [n]ot seen. (see TAD III, 1.1.84–90)

Qoheleth taught at such a time as this, when the average citizen felt vulnerable and powerless before the rich and the political elite. So when the author speaks of humanity’s helplessness before the whim of the sovereign deity, he draws on the social experiences of his audience: “Whatever happens has already been designated; the course of human beings is known, and they cannot dispute with the one who is stronger than they” (6:10).69 The economy in the Persian period was volatile. With the high interest rates, the smallholder became extremely vulnerable. Those who were unable to pay their debts were seized and put in debtors’ prison, known in Egyptian Aramaic as byt ’sryn. One example of such an imprisonment is found in fragmentary texts from North Saqqara that tell of prisoners being registered and put to work.70 The Aramaic term for prison here is comparable to Hebrew bêt ’ăsûrîm in Eccl 4:12, a text contrasting a poor but wise individual with an old but stupid king. The former went forth from the bêt ’ăsûrîm to become king, while latter was born a king but became poor. Qoheleth does not indicate in this case that the situation is something that he has observed (contrast 10:5), so one can not be sure if the instruction here is simply a literary topos or if it reflects a historical occurrence as well. If it reflects Achaemenid realities, one should think of the deposed king not in terms of the Great King of the Achaemenid line, but of a local “king” who has fallen out of favor. Like other subjects of “the Lord of Kings” in Susa, local rulers may also be recipients of royal grants, as we know Eshmunazor of Sidon did in the fifth century B. C. E. (KAI 14.18–19). It was an unreliable world in which Qoheleth and his audience lived, for those who were rich and powerful could suddenly find themselves impoverished, while those who were poor might suddenly come into great wealth and prestige. Elsewhere in the book, Qoheleth describes a world turned upside down: There is an evil that I have observed under the sun, a veritable mistake stemming from the proprietor. 69  70 

See Seow: Ecclesiastes, 230–231. J. Segal: Aramaic Texts from North Saqqâra, London, 1983, 3.1, 8.10, and 50.9.

214

Choon-Leong Seow

The simpleton is set in great heights, but the rich abide in low estate. I have seen slaves on horses, but princes walk on foot like slaves. (Eccl 10:5–7)

This description of a topsy-turvy world is commonly identified as another wisdom topos, and that is, indeed, correct. The presence of a literary topos does not mean, however, that it has nothing to do with historical context; sometimes a topos is employed precisely because it is poignant and timely. This is, after all, reported as something the author observed. The allusion to the downfall of a certain “proprietor,” in fact, has a certain historical ring to it. Perhaps the author has in mind a wealthy individual who has lost everything because of an inadvertent error (see 5:12–14). In any case, he goes beyond the particular case to reflect on an unpredictable world where events seem to spin out of control and social order is completely disrupted. Individuals are vulnerable to all kinds of dangers in the rapidly changing economic world, it seems. At a macro-level, there are social, economic and political forces at work that are beyond the control of individuals (10:5–7). At a micro-level, professionals face everyday occupational hazards: the hunter who digs a pit to trap animals is liable to fall into one of such pits, the farmer who removes rocks from fences is vulnerable to snakes that lurk in the nooks and crannies, one who quarries stones is susceptible to certain industrial accidents, as is the one who splits wood (10:8–9). There is also the perfumer, whose precious product may be ruined by the presence of a single fly (10:1). There are risks everywhere and at every level in the new economic world. Qoheleth’s characterization of this world is not a figment of his imagination. It is drawn from the wisdom tradition, but it is not merely rhetoric. His use of the tradition reflects the volatile economy of his time. Here, again, the Murashu archive is a valuable resource. Stolper points to an oddity in the archive: in the first year of the reign of Darius II Ochos (423–404 B. C. E.), the number of texts dealing with mortgages rose by over 300 %.71 The numbers of lands pawned as well as the number of loans rose dramatically. One may observe, too, that a large number of texts mentioning “prison” are dated to the years 423–422 B. C. E. It appears that something was happening in that period that suddenly caused people to lose their holdings. Those who once possessed properties had to give them up and many found themselves imprisoned for debt or enslaved. In Stolper’s reconstruction, the phenomenon was a direct result of political realities attendant upon the accession of Darius II Ochus, who had to fend off several contenders to the throne. To Stolper, the increased indebtedness in Babylonia is evidence that the financial resources of the rivals and their clients were exhausted in the political battles that took place as 71 

Stolper: Entrepreneurs and Empire, 104–124.



The Social World of Ecclesiastes

215

Darius came to power. The Murashu archive may support Stolper’s claim in part, but the Murashu business house, specializing in certain types of leases, bears only partial testimony to the social-economic picture. One wonders if some people were not losing their fiefs and other assets because they happened to be on the wrong side of the struggle. Certainly we expect some of the royal grants to have been revoked for political reasons, with consequences for all the dependents of the former grantees and their tenants. It may be noted that there is no comparable sharp increase in the number of mortgages and debts in the satrapy of Egypt from the same period, as there was in Babylonia. That is perhaps no coincidence, since Arsames, the satrap of Egypt and presumably the recipient of significant royal grants in the satrapy, was an ally of Darius II. By the same token, one may observe that Artarios, the satrap of Babylonia, supported Sekyndianos, a brother and rival of Darius. Whatever the explanation, it seems clear that land tenure and its privileges were somehow susceptible to the unpredictable wind of political change. The already volatile economy was made even more volatile by the fortunes of the various levels of proprietors who issued the grants. Given such uncertainties, it is no wonder that we find in the book a concern with ephemerality. Nothing seems permanent. Nothing seems reliable in such a world. Even those who have their grants given to them could not count on having their assets forever. Qoheleth speaks of the person who was so afraid of losing his wealth that he hoarded it:72 There is a sickening tragedy that I have observed under the sun: wealth was hoarded by one who possessed it, to his own hurt. That is, that wealth disappeared in a terrible venture. Then he sired a son, but there was nothing in his possession. Just as he came forth from the womb of his mother, so he will return naked, going as he came. And he will carry away nothing for his toil that he may bring in his hand. (Eccl 5:12–14)

We do not know what that terrible business was that caused the man to lose all his wealth. The point is that the man did not enjoy his wealth when he was able. Somehow he had made a bad financial decision and, in consequence, lost everything for which he had toiled. Whatever Qoheleth’s intent in telling this story, it illustrates the volatility of the economy that his audience knew. They were cognizant of the fact that what they had one day might be gone the next. Elsewhere in the book, Qoheleth urges people not to be too tightfisted with their money. People should take the risk to be generous, even though tragedies – and surely he includes economic tragedies – may happen in 72  Compare the numerous hoards found in Palestine in the late fifth and early fourth centuries B. C. E.

216

Choon-Leong Seow

the future. They should take a chance and throw away a good deed, as it were: Release your bread upon the waters,    after many days you will find it. Give a portion to seven, or even eight    you do not know what misfortune may come about. (Eccl 11:1–2)

This text goes on to note that people cannot watch for the perfect conditions. The farmer who watches the wind will never sow, those who watch the clouds will not harvest. Qoheleth urges spontaneity instead: sow at any time (11:6). Or, as the Aramaic Proverbs of Ahiqar has it, “Harvest any harvest and do any work. Then you will eat and be satisfied and give to your children” (TAD III, 1.127). Both Ecclesiastes and the Aramaic Proverbs of Ahiqar must be read in the light of the volatility of the economy in the last hundred and eighty years of the Achaemenids, a time of great economic opportunities and equally great risks. In such a world of tremendous opportunities and risks, it is easy to understand how Qoheleth’s audience could never feel secure with what they had. They strove for success out of envy (4:1), hoarded out of a sense of insecurity (5:12), and toiled out of concern about their own financial well being and the security of their descendants (2:18–23) or simply out of habit, even when they have no one with whom to share the fruit of their labor (4:7). Slaves were able to borrow substantial sums of money or otherwise accumulated enough wealth to buy their own slaves and participate in all kinds of business ventures. Some were able not only to break out of poverty, but even to become wealthy, as in the case of Ribat and some of his friends. No doubt such rags-to-riches stories must have spurred people to yearn and strive for success. The new monetary economy created the impression of equal opportunity for wealth for one and all; it fostered a sense that people who were born poor need not always remained so. As the inscriptions amply attest, there were various possibilities of employment, tenant farming, small-capital businesses, joint-ventures, silent partnerships, and so forth. It was a world in which there was, it seems, hope of success for any who would strive hard enough. The free market that Qoheleth observes is an unpredictable arena, however. It was a time for heady optimism about hitherto unimaginable opportunities. Yet, that optimism was offset by sociopolitical and economic realities on the ground, for there were no failsafe rules that worked every time. It was a perplexing new world of rapid political, social, and economic innovations, many of which were initiated and determined in seats of power that the ordinary citizens of the vast empire could hardly comprehend. These proprietors brought their families and all their money, jewelry, and title deeds to various assets. They brought all the legal evidence that



The Social World of Ecclesiastes

217

they were šallîtîm over these assets. And there, in the cave, they perished with all their wealth – a veritable testimony to the truth of what Qoheleth taught in their generation or a little before: No one is a proprietor over death and no one can send a substitute to that decisive “battle.” Wealth is to be enjoyed in the present and people cannot bring their wealth with them when they die. Indeed, “everything is vanity.”

Friedrich V. Reiterer

The Sociological Significance of the Scribe as the Teacher of Wisdom in Ben Sira Translated by Robert W. Bernard The treatment of the subject will proceed according to the following stages of investigation: (1) preliminary remarks on method; (2) the historical context; (3) Sirach on the scribes as sages, and on wisdom; (4) wisdom and its areas of use; (5) the teacher of wisdom and other professions; (6) summary.

Preliminary Remarks on Method The title is not intended to arouse curiosity, but rather to suggest the final result, although the relationships set forth in what follows cannot be grasped simply by the abridged version of a heading. One must proceed, however, from the fact that Sirach, whose work appeared in 175 B. C. E., understood himself as a leading teacher of wisdom. In addition to wider central concerns such as creation1 (cf. e. g. Sir 16:2–17:10; 42:1–43:33), respect for God 2, correct personal and social life, the significance of the 1  L. Santoro: L’inno al creatore di Gesù Ben Sirac, CiVi 2 (1947), 253–261; W. Roth: The Lord’s Glory Fills Creation. A Study of Sirach’s Praise of God’s Words (42:1–50:24), Explor 6 (1981), 85–95; P. Doll: Menschenschöpfung und Weltschöpfung in der alttestamentlichen Weisheit, SBS 117, Stuttgart 1985, 59–74; W. Burton: Sirach and the Judaic Doctrine of Creation, Glasgow 1987 [Diss.]; L. Perdue: Cosmology and the Social Order in the Wisdom Tradition, in: idem/J. G. Gammie (eds.), The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, Winona Lake, IN 1990, 457–478; P. Beentjes: De verhalen van het begin terug(ge)lezen. Jezus Sirach en Genesis 1–3, in: K. Verdegaal (ed.), Stromen uit Eden. Genesis 1–11 in bijbel, joodse exegese en moderne literature (FS N. R. M. Poulssen), Boxtel 1992, 98–110; L. Perdue: Wisdom and Creation. The Theology of Wisdom Literature, Nashville 1994, 243–290; S. Goan: Creation in Ben Sira, Milltown Studies 36 (1995), 75–85; A. Goshen-Gottstein: Ben Sira’s Praise of the Fathers: A Canon-Conscious Reading, in: R. Egger-Wenzel (ed.), Ben Sira’s God. Proceedings of the International Ben Sira Conference Durham – Upshaw College 2001 (BZAW 321), Berlin/New York 2002, 235–267; N. Calduch-Benages: L’inno al creato (Sir 42–43). Una polemica infragiudaica, in: A. Passaro/G. Bellia (eds.), The Wisdom of Ben Sira. Studies in Tradition, Redaction and Theology, DCLSt 1, Berlin/New York 2008 (forthcoming). 2  Usually described erroneously as “ fear of God;” cf. R. Egger-Wenzel: “Faith in God” Rather Than “Fear of God” in Ben Sira and Job: A Necessary Adjustment in Terminology and Understanding, in: J. Corley/V. Skemp (eds.), Intertextual Studies in Ben Sira and Tobit (FS A. A. Di Lella), CBQMS 38, Washington 2004, 211–226.



The Scribe as the Teacher of Wisdom in Ben Sira

219

example of great personalities of one’s own history3 (e. g. Sir 4–49) and other matters, the realm of the terms “wise/Wisdom” assumes a prominent place in Sirach’s thought and expression. This can be demonstrated quite easily even with statistics: in the extant Hebrew manuscript,4 which preserve approximately 64 %5 of the text, there are almost sixty occurrences of the root ‫חכם‬. The Greek versions6 contain more than eighty occurrences of terms derived from σοϕία and σοϕόϛ. In addition, Sirach dedicates entire poems7 to the theme of “Wisdom.” One must note at this point a methodological problem which one comes across by no means in every scripture that is classified as wisdom literature. Ben Sira himself has become so to say wisdom personified. This is captured by the way in which he makes constant use of polysemous aspects of speech8 and deploys a Biblical style in his own examples.9 Sirach’s 3  Cf. E. Tobac: Le panégyrique des Pères dans l’Ecclésiastique (XLIV–L), VDM 8 (1914), 349–372; T. Maertens: L’Éloge des Pères (Ecclésiastique XLIV–L), CLV[B] 5, Brüssel 1956; J. Duhaime: El elogio de los Padres de Ben Sira y el Cántico de Moisés (Sir 44–50 y Dt 32), EstB 35 (1976), 223–228; P. C. Beentjes: De lof der vaderen. Vaderlandse geschiedenis met een bedoeling, in: idem, Teksten uit het geschrift Jesus Sirach nader toegelicht, Schrift 82 (1982), 138–158, esp. 146–149; T. R. Lee: Studies in the Form of Sirach 44–50, SBLDS 75, Atlanta, GA 1986; R. Petraglio: Il libro che contamina le mani. Ben Sirac rilegge il libro e la storia d’Israele, Theologia 4, Palermo 1993; G. Sauer: Das Lob der Väter (Ben Sira 44–50) und die Wolke von Zeugen (Hebr 11), in: W. Pratscher/G. Sauer (eds.), Die Kirche als historische und eschatolo­gische Größe (FS K. Niederwimmer), Frankfurt a. M./Berlin/Bern 1994, 125–137; F. V. Reiterer: Der Pentateuch in der spätbiblischen Weisheit Ben Siras, in: E. Otto (ed.), A Critical Study of the Pentateuch. An Encounter between Africa and Europe, Altes Testament und Moderne, Münster/Hamburg/ London 2005, 160–183. 4  Cf. P. C. Beentjes: The Book of Ben Sira in Hebrew. A Text Edition of All Extant Hebrew Manuscripts and a Synopsis of All Parallel Hebrew Ben Sira Texts, VTSup 68, Leiden 1997 (= Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature 2006), esp. 1–10; the detailed listing of preserved texts according to extant cola in columns two and three in F. Reiterer with the collaboration of Renate Egger-Wenzel et al.: Zählsynopse zum Buch Ben Sira, FoSub 1, Berlin/ New York 2003, 94–246. 5  Cf. F. V. Reiterer: Text und Buch Ben Sira in Tradition und Forschung. Eine Einführung, in: R. Egger-Wenzel (ed.), Alle Weisheit stammt vom Herrn, Gesammelte Studien zu Ben Sira, BZAW 375, Berlin/New York 2007, 3–49, esp. 33–34, F. V. Reiterer et al.: Bibliographie zu Ben Sira, BZAW 266, Berlin/New York 1998, 1–42. 6  Cf . the textual edition of J. Ziegler: Sapientia Iesu Filii Sirach, Septuaginta. Vetus Testamentum Graecum auctoritate Societatis Litterarum Gottingensis editum XII,2, Göttingen 2 1980. 7  Cf. on this theme F. V. Reiterer: Das Verhältnis der ‫ חכמה‬zur ‫ תורה‬im Buch Ben Sira. Kriterien zur gegenseitigen Bestimmung, in: G. G. Xeravits/J. Zsengelér (eds.), The Book of Ben Sira, JSJSup, Leiden/Boston 2008 (forthcoming) and O. Rickenbacher: Weisheitsperikopen bei Ben Sira, OBO 1 Fribourg/Göttingen 1973. 8  N. Seger has elaborated some examples (L’utilisation de la polysémie des racines hébraïques chez Ben Sira, Strasbourg 2005, typewritten); further treatment of this field will enrich undertstanding of Sirach in the future, and is only at the beginning of research. 9  Cf. e. g., the many examples in L. Alonso Schöckel: A Manual of Hebrew Poetics (Subsidia biblica 11), Rom 22000; W. Watson: Classical Hebrew Poetry. A Guide to its Techniques,

220

Friedrich V. Reiterer

formation of his sayings occurs in some instances in larger units, while in others he coordinates themes in a manner that is very difficult to grasp. Furthermore, the emphases of these themes slowly change so that one suddenly can no longer grasp the inner consistency of the argumentation. The same holds true as well for the Greek translation. The grandson, to whom we owe the Greek version, is noteworthy not only for an extraordinary choice of words that differs widely from the rest of the Septuagint,10 but also casts his translation in a new poetic form of speech in such a way that he deviates further than we would wish from the literal rendering of the text that lies before him. Being aware of this problem, the extant Hebrew text is taken wherever possible as the basis for the argumentation in what follows, although the Greek text is likewise taken into consideration, above all in those passages where no extant Hebrew text is available.

The Historical Context The location of Israel, strategically unique in many respects, led again and again throughout the centuries to the result that the great powers sought to bring under their influence, of all places, this relatively narrow strip of land by the Mediterranean. This geographical eye of the needle is always difficult to cross in the east through mountainous terrain, but is relatively easy to secure through military skill; it thus enabled the control of commerce between the area of Egypt and the Mesopotamian or civilized countries situated in the east. From the Ptolemies to the Seleucid. After Alexander the Great, the Ptolemies held sway over this area. In this respect, it is significant that two contrary developments were present. On the one hand, from the time of Persia, “Judea is independent culturally and in the area of domestic policy.”11 Since Judah, including Jerusalem, was considered as part of the province of “Syria, respectively Cole Syria,”12 there was on the other hand no independent governor in this area. That led to a development that was driven very strongly by the dynamic of inner forces. JSOTSup 170, Sheffield 1984, and P. Skehan/A. Di Lella: The Wisdom of Ben Sira, AB 39, New York 1987, 63–81. 10  Cf. J. Ziegler: Zum Wortschatz des griechischen Sirach, in: J. Hempel/L. Rost (eds.), Von Ugarit nach Qumran (FS O. Eissfeldt), BZAW 77, Berlin 1958, 274–287 = in: idem, Sylloge. Gesammelte Aufsätze zur Septuaginta, MSU 10, Göttingen 1971, 450–463; F. V. Reiterer: „Urtext“ und Übersetzungen. Sprachstudie über Sir 44,16–45,26 als Beitrag zur Siraforschung, ATSAT 12, St. Ottilien 1980, esp. 242–249, and building upon this the detailed study by C. Wagner: Die Septuaginta-Hapaxlegomena im Buch Jesus Sirach. Untersuchungen zu Wortwahl und Wortbildung unter besonderer Berücksichtigung des textkritischen und übersetzungstechnischen Aspekts, BZAW 282, Berlin/New York 1999. 11  H. Zucker: Studien zur jüdischen Selbstverwaltung in der Antike, Berlin 1936, 32. 12  Zucker: Studien 30.



The Scribe as the Teacher of Wisdom in Ben Sira

221

After several wars13 the Ptolemies had finally been driven out14 by the Seleucids in 198/7 B. C. E. The wounds from the war were not yet healed in Judea, since new problems were ushered in. Antiochus III (223–187 B. C. E.) had already fostered associations with sympathizers in Jerusalem before the victory and the seizure of power in Jerusalem. Although the break with the Egyptian tradition may not have been absolute,15 the “ideological” adjustment in the areas of philosophy, society, and political power was nevertheless another matter that had profound depth. After the seizure of power, Antiochus III granted remissions of taxes;16 he gained adherents in this way, and saw in them ways in which he could build up his influence. Joined with these procedures, however, one could observe on the part of the Jews a toying with Greek ways of life and an agreement with the establishment of Greek life that continued to gain more and more ground. Insecurity and Search for Inner Wholeness. Serious confrontations between the various currents within the Jews and the Jewish community could not be avoided for long. The situation of the Jewish population was gloomy; the years of war had not remained without negative economic consequences, and the inner “organization” had come into equilibrium: there had not been a king for quite some time, with the result that the lack of a guiding hand made itself felt. The leaders in society lacked unity among themselves and could in no way perceive the function of leadership in a measure necessary for reconstruction. Decisions were made in council meetings, with the result that it is not possible to describe how these functioned. As can be seen below, the arguments brought forth on an ad hoc basis played a decisive role, so that the development of argumentation received a special place of honor. The earlier institute of the elders became 13  In four Syrian wars (274–271, 260–253, 246–241, and 221–217 B. C. E.), “The Mesopotamian-Syrian Seleucids were covetous for the landbridge and left no stone unturned in gaining it. In the 5th Syrian war (201–200/198) Antiochus III finally succeeded in inflicting a crushing defeat on the Ptolemaic general Skopas in the battle at Paneion (Panes, Bānyās). That was in 200 B. C. E., according to others 198 B. C. E. As a consequence, Syria and Phoenicia fell to the Seleucids, and this change of rulers was confirmed in writing with the peace agreement in 194/3 with Ptolemy V Epiphanes (204–181)” (Donner: Geschichte des Volkes Israel und seiner Nachbarn in Grundzügen. Teil 2: Von der Königszeit bis zu Alexander dem Großen. Mit einem Ausblick auf die Geschichte des Judentums bis Bar Kochba, Grundrisse zum Alten Testa­ment, ATD Ergänzungsreihe IV/2, Göttingen 1986, 443–444); cf. H. Schmitt: Untersuchungen zur Geschichte Antiochos’ des Großen und seiner Zeit, Wiesbaden 1964. 14  Cf. the reception of Antiochus III by the Jews (Josephus, Ant. XII 3.3). 15  The inferior Ptolemy V was the son-in-law of Antiochus III. Cf. H. Stadelmann: Ben Sira als Schriftgelehrter. Eine Untersuchung zum Berufsbild des vor-makkabäischen Sōfēr unter Berücksichtigung seines Verhältnisses zu Priester-, Propheten- und Weisheitslehrertum, WUNT II/6, Tübingen 1980, 3. 16  For taxation policy, cf. E. Bickerman: The Jews in the Greek Age, Cambridge, Mass 1988, 140 ff; and O. Wischmeyer: Die Kultur des Buches Jesus Sirach, BZNW 77, Berlin/ New York 1995, 60 f.

222

Friedrich V. Reiterer

unsuitable for this challenge. Critical observations show that Sirach sees these institutions having come into crisis, a development that has to do with the Greek influence that was growing stronger and stronger; the ancient values that were handed down were losing little by little their influence in the population as a whole. This alteration was also taking effect in the importance of the family; this no longer appears as the basic social element to form all-encompassing boundaries. Indeed, even more, an increasing number of youths and younger people appear to be joining the “foreign” way of living. Even the role of the priests was changing and could no longer be viewed as the central point of approach for many questions of life and death. For example, the priests were earlier responsible for important questions of health;17 now the physician had undertaken this task more and more, in accordance with Greek practice. Even the understanding of the innermost core of priestly tasks was not spared by this change in structure; the valuing and function of the sacrifice underwent a new placing of emphasis (cf. 34:2–35:15). However, even in the very banal association of people with each other, the usual manners appear to have no longer been satisfactory, as we see in the texts concerning the behavior at banquets. Ben Sira and the Realities of Life. When one considers this description of the situation, an uncertainty emerges on several levels. There is considerable incertitude in the customary public relationships, including the role of the family, the local social context, and political and religious situations. Where is stability to be found? It is thus understandable that many see an only too welcome anchor in the consistent Greek conviction promising prosperity, respect, and influence. It appears to give stability and hope. Whoever accepts the new way of life must give up his or her own tradition – at least to a large extent. Sirach is not ready to pay this high price. For that reason, he outlines a new alternative viewpoint. With the inclusion of all the stimuli of his environment that he holds as worthwhile, whether the wisdom of the Arameans,18 the Egyptians,19 or that of Cf. the assessment of dangerous diseases through the judgment of clean and unclean. Cf. F. Nau: Ahiqar et les papyrus d’Eléphantine: RB 9 (1912), 68–79; J. Greenfield: The Background and Parallels to a Proverb of Ahiqar, in: A. Caquot/M. Philonenko, Hommages à André Dupont-Sommer, Paris 1971, 49–59; L. Ruppert: Zur Funktion der Achikar-Notizen im Buch Tobias, BZ 20 (1976), 232–237; J. Greenfield: Ahiqar in the Book of Tobit, in: M. Carres et al. (eds.), De la Tôrah au Messie (FS Henri Cazelles), Paris 1981, 329–336; J. Lindenberger: The Aramaic proverbs of Ahiqar, Baltimore. MD 1983; idem: Ahiqar, in: J. Charlesworth (ed.), The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha 2, New York 1985, 479–507; M. Weigl: „Mein Neffe Achikar“ (Tob 1,22): Die aramäischen Achikar-Sprüche und das Alte Testament, Wien 1999 (Habilitationsschrift); idem: Compositional Strate­g ies in the Aramaic Proverbs of Achikar: Columns 8, in: M. Daviau/J. Wevers/M. Weigl (eds.), The World of the Aramaeans: Studies in Language and Literature (FS P. E. Dion), JSOTSup 326, Sheffield 2001, 22–82. 19  Cf. J. Sanders: Ben Sira and Demotic Wisdom, SBLMS 28, Chico, CA 1983. 17  18 



The Scribe as the Teacher of Wisdom in Ben Sira

223

the Greeks – above all, that of Hellenism 20 – he sees the necessity of developing a general outline. The basis for this profile is his unshakeable faith in the creator God. This God holds the destinies of the entire “creation” firmly in his hand, whether it be the material or immaterial. These include the cosmos, human beings, animals, and plants, as well as stones. On the basis of the concept of wisdom offered by God, a teacher of wisdom can reveal new perspectives and offer an efficient foundation for every area of life. Since the family as the basic level of society has come into crisis, in contrast to Tobit, 21 he takes the students out of the associations of the family, trains them in his house for teaching, and then sends them back into the families. Sirach focuses upon bonds based on friendship. 22 Despite the alteration in the partially sustainable institution of the priesthood, it remains the only organization which has responsibilities that may be emphatically supported. He therefore gives the priests emphatic support in their assigned tasks. This is the context into which Sirach and his conception are to be integrated.

Sirach on the Scribes as Sages, and on Wisdom 23 If an author seeks to set forth his views about himself or herself or about a particular subject, then it is serendipitous if the writer has expressed 20  Cf. M. Hengel: Judentum und Hellenismus. Studien zu ihrer Begegnung unter besonderer Berücksichtigung Palästinas bis zur Mitte des 2. Jh. v. Chr., WUNT 10, Tübingen 21973; T. Middendorf: Die Stellung Jesu Ben Siras zwischen Judentum und Hellenismus, Leiden 1973; H. V. Kieweler: Ben Sira zwischen Judentum und Hellenismus. Eine kritische Auseinandersetzung mit T. Middendorf, BEAT 30, Wien 1992; O. Kaiser: Die Rezeption der stoischen Providenz bei Ben Sira, JNWSL 24/1 (1998), 41–52; U. Wicke-Reuter: Göttliche Providenz und menschliche Verantwortung bei Ben Sira und in der frühen Stoa, BZAW 298, Berlin/New York 2000; U. Wicke-Reuter: Ben Sira und die frühe Stoa. Zum Zusammenhang von Ethik und dem Glauben an eine göttliche Providenz, in: R. Egger (ed.), Ben Sira’s God. Proceedings of the International Ben Sira Conference Durham – Ushaw College 2001, BZAW 321, Berlin/New York 2002, 268–281; O. Kaiser: Athen und Jerusalem. Die Begegnung des spätbiblischen Judentums mit dem griechischen Geist, ihre Voraussetzung und ihre Folgen, in: M. Witte et al. (eds.), Die Griechen und der andere Orient, Studien zum Kulturkontakt zwischen Orient und Okzident im 1. Jahrtausend v. Chr., OBO 141, Fribourg/ Göttingen 2003, 87–120. 21  Cf. F. V. Reiterer: Prophet und Prophetie in Tobit und Ben Sira. Berührungspunkte und Differenzen, in: G. G. Xeravits/J. Zsengellér (eds.), The Book of Tobit. Text, Tradition, Theology. Papers of the First International Conference on the Deuterocanonical Books, Pápa, Hungary 20–21 May, 2004, JSJSup 98, Leiden/Boston 2005, 155–175, esp. 173 f. 22  Cf. the omnibus volume F. V. Reiterer (ed.), Freundschaft bei Ben Sira. Beiträge des Sym­posions zu Ben Sira, Salzburg 1995, BZAW 244, Berlin/New York 1996; J. Corley: Ben Sira’s Teaching on Friendship, BJS 316, Providence 2001. 23  Cf. among others. M. Celniker: Lo sviluppo della sapienza (chokhmà) nell’Antico Testamento e negli apocrifi (Sa­pienza di Ben Sirach e Sapienza di Salomone), AStE 11 (1988),

224

Friedrich V. Reiterer

himself or herself precisely on those points. In characterizing a “wise scribe,” this is especially the case in 38:24–39:11. The introductory verse for this section appears as a programmatic theme, in which – as happens frequently – differences are found in the Hebrew and Greek version. 24 The Hebrew reads: “The wisdom of the scribe (‫סופר‬25 ‫ )חכמת‬increases wisdom (‫)חכמה‬26 , and the one who lacks (‫ )חסר‬the necessity of employment (‫ )עסק‬can prove to be wise (‫)יתחכם‬.”27 The threefold use of the root (‫ )חכם‬is noteworthy, for Sirach’s stylistic technique should be mentioned. It emphasizes something by means of tripling the elements. Through its positioning as the first word, wisdom (‫ )חכמה‬is emphasized and is already the ostensible (!) starting point. Its existence is immediately established. Yet one will need to ask in this regard, from whence does wisdom come (cf. on this point below). Furthermore, the scribes considered here are experts in writing and know their craft in the revelation set down in writing, as, e. g., among others, Ezra 7:6 shows. 28 While in Ezra the relation to “The Law of Moses” is emphasized, 29 the grandson reports that his grandfather was concerned with all the parts of the Bible known to us: “My grandfather concerned 15–28; E. Bickerman: Scribes and Sages, in: idem, The Jews in the Greek Age, Cambridge, Mass/London 1988, 161–176; C. Evans: Of Scribes and Sages. Early Jewish Interpretation and Transmission of Scripture. Bd. I: Ancient Versions and Traditions, London 2004. 24  The rendering of the Greek version reads as follows: “The wisdom of the scribes (σοϕία γραμματέωϛ) depends on the opportunity (ἐνεὐκαιρίᾳ) of leisure (σχολήϛ) and if one has little work (ὁ ἐλασσούμενος) to do (πράξει), one can become wise (σοϕισϑήσεται).” If the differences between H and G appear insignificant at first glance, the result of a closer examination shows that the variants point to different provenances. 25  For ‫סופר‬, cf. among others the pertinent articles in this volume; generally H. Niehr: ‫ספר‬, ThWAT VI (1989), 921–929. 26  Cf. so also G. Sauer: Jesus Sirach (Ben Sira) (JSHRZ 3), Gütersloh 1981, 598; The rendering of ‫ חכמה‬in the standard translation (Einheitsübersetzung der Heiligen Schrift. Die Bibel. Gesamtausgabe, Stuttgart 1980) with “knowledge” (= ‫דעת‬, cf. further 5,10a; 37,22b [there exist relationships between ‫ חכמה‬and ‫ דעת‬but no identification: ‫ ;]ובאין דעת תחסר חכמה‬cf. further 5,10a; 37,22b.23b; 38,3a; 44,16b is based in an unsubstantiated way upon a meaning that is restricted to a rational dimension. 27  Due to several misunderstandings, the results of contemporary philological research should be born in mind. Cf. W. Baumgartner et al. (ed.): Hebräisches und Aramäisches Lexikon zum Alten Testament I, Leiden 1967, 301: “Hitp.: … 1. sich weise zeigen … 2. s. Weisheit zeigen”; H. Donner/R. Meyer/U. Rüterswörden (ed.): Wilhelm Gesenius, Hebräisches und Aramäisches Handwörterbuch über das Alte Testament, 2. Lieferung ‫י–ד‬, Berlin/Heidelberg 18 1995, 349: “Hif.: … sich als weise … erkennen geben. Sir 38,24 f …” D. J. A. Clines (ed.): The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew III, ‫ט –ז‬, Sheffield 1996, 219: “Hitp.: … make oneself wise …” If ‫ חכם‬had to be understand transitively, the object would have to be mentioned. This equally applies to the Greek σοϕίζεσϑαι. 28  Cf. C. Schams: Jewish Scribes in the Second-Temple Period, JSOTSup 291, Sheffield 1998, 108–112. 29  “Ezra … was a scribe, expert in the law of Moses (‫)תורת משה‬, that YHWH, the God of Israel, had given” (Ezra 7:6).



The Scribe as the Teacher of Wisdom in Ben Sira

225

himself carefully with the Law,30 the Prophets, and all the other Scriptures handed down by our ancestors. He acquired a considerable proficiency in them” (Prologue 11).31 The entirety of these Scriptures, the TaNaK, which the grandson emphasizes in such a way, is able to explain in a world of high philosophical development that there is in Israel a significant degree of education and established knowledge. In these texts the choice of words unintentionally allows the distinction from philosophical systems to emerge, because one cannot transfer Hebrew linguistic concepts into Indo-Germanic languages without a measure of difficulty, 32 but it will surpass the particularly abstract and rational levels. “An abundance and greatness has been given to us through the Law, the Prophets, and the other Scriptures that follow them. Therefore Israel must be praised because of its education (παιδεία) and wisdom (σοϕία)” (Prologue 39). The mention of “education” is sufficient for western usage. The training on the basis of the TaNaK is foundational for Sirach and has two emphases: education as the training that is as all-encompassing as possible, and wisdom as the ability to understand connections in a wide framework, and above all to deal correctly with data (theoretical and practical). Because education and wisdom exist in Israel, the Israelites are located (at least) in the eyes of the grandson on the same level as the representatives of the contemporaneous systems of education and schooling – above all, those of the Greeks. The wisdom of the one who is dedicated to the study of the (revealed) Scriptures (‫ )סופר‬will in turn increase in wisdom (‫)חכמה‬. The verb ‘to increase’ is multidimensional, since it possesses an intransitive (“to become greater, to increase”) and transitive meaning (“to increase something”).33 Does the author think that the wisdom of the teacher is increased through study, or is wisdom increased for others? This ambiguity sets in motion Sirach’s discussion of wisdom and its effects. Those who are occupied with wisdom (1) become themselves wise, (2) offer others wisdom, and (3) feel compelled to develop and actualize wisdom further in speech and in writing. These three aspects require now a further explanation and are individual steps in answering the questions that lie before us. 30  A. Moenikes (Tora ohne Mose. Zur Vorgeschichte der Mose-Tora, BBB 149, Berlin/Wien 2003, 13) rightly refers to the fact that “the conception of the Torah as the first part of the Hebrew canon […] without express attribution to Moses in Sir 39:1 (ca. 130 B. C. E.) and in the prologue of the Greek translation of the book of Sirach” is first documented in these two texts. 31  Cf. F. V. Reiterer: The Interpretation of the wisdom tradition of the Torah within Ben Sira, in: A. Passaro/G. Bellia (eds.), The Wisdom of Ben Sira. Studies on Tradition, Redaction and Theology, DCLSt 1, Berlin/New York 2008 (forthcoming). 32  This is noted by the Grandson in the Prologue: “It is indeed not the same if one reads something in the Hebrew language, or if it is translated into another language” (Prol. 0,21–22). 33  Cf. among others Reiterer, with the collaboration of R. Egger-Wenzel/I. Krammer/P. Ritter-Müller: Zählsynopse zum Buch Ben Sira, FoSub 1, Berlin/New York 2003, esp. 53 f.

226

Friedrich V. Reiterer

The Acquiring of Wisdom. Sirach describes the way to wisdom as follows: If you wish (‫תחפוץ‬, ϑέλῃϛ), my children, you can make yourselves wise (‫)תתחכם‬34 and become shrewd (‫תערם‬35; πανοῦργοϛ ἔσῃ 36) when you direct your ear, you acquire instruction (‫ ;תוסר‬σοϕόϛ ἔσῃ, Sir 6:32 f).

To become wise and to be wise are therefore not innate qualities. No one enters this world wise from one’s birth. To become wise presumes an individual decision.37 Furthermore, the acquiring of wisdom is difficult; it requires effort and presumes a great deal of self-control and focus of one’s will. A pupil has to reckon with significant problems, as is shown by the fact that the subordination to the rules of wisdom 38 is described according to Sir 6:24–29 with dramatic comparisons: it lays chains and ropes on someone, one must bend one’s neck under her yoke, and great exertion is required for profit from her. At the same time, the goal is enticing for those who endure to the end: “Bring your feet into her chains (τὰς πέδας αὐτῆς), your neck under her    yoke (είϛ τὸν κλοιὸν αὐτῆς)! Incline your shoulder (τὸν ὦμόν σου) and carry them; become weary of her    ropes (τοίϛ δεσμοίϛ αὐτῆς)! With all your heart walk towards her; with all your strength (ἐν ὅλῃ δυνάμεις),    keep to her ways! Ask and enquire, seek and find! If you have taken hold of her, do not let her    go again! For you will finally discover peace with her; she turns herself into joy for you. Her chains (αἱ πέδαι) turn into a sure defense for you; her ropes turn into    golden raiments” (Sir 6:24–29).

Although with his pupils – presumably the majority of whom were rather young39 – Sirach strives to make an effort concerning wisdom, he also 34  The Greek version is focused upon the Greek goal of formation of one who is philosophically educated (παιδευϑήσῃ) and thus shows that the translator has a background of life and experience different from that of the writer of the Hebrew text. 35  Certainly, if the verb is found in the N-stem, then it means “you show yourself to be crafty.” 36  Although free in its wording, the Greek version comes very close to the view of Sirach, if one keeps its various pertinent remarks in view. 37  In his own chapter on the subject, Sirach discussed the role of free will in his philosophical thought; cf. A. A. Di Lella: Free Will in the Wisdom of Ben Sira 15:11–20. An Exegetical and Theological Study, in: I. Fischer et al. (eds.), Auf den Spuren der schriftgelehrten Weisen (FS J. Marböck), BZAW 331, Berlin/New York 2003, 253–264. 38  Wisdom is delineated as an independent, prominent abstraction, which promotes sayings on its own; but it is not personified. 39  In general, one must not imagine that the members of the audience are too young, for one discovers that they have parents, children, and slaves, as well as houses; they are entrepreneurial but also active as politicians, and have other professions as well.



The Scribe as the Teacher of Wisdom in Ben Sira

227

presumes that there are persons among significant ancestors who were wise already in their youth.40 “To be wise” is not a question of age alone.41 Indeed, Sirach numbers older people above all among the wise.42 From that fact, to be sure, age is no prerequisite for “being wise,” yet one encounters the wise to a great extent in this group of people. That may be a description of daily experience, or indeed it may point to a group or circle of the elderly, who play a special role in the society. In support of the latter is the recommendation to go to that place where the wise meet with one another so often that the doorstep is worn down; cf. Sir 6:36. If this recommendation refers to chance meetings of individuals or singular wise people, then the statement is less convincing than if it concerns the first steps towards the development of a societal institution. The basic point is that one has to develop one’s individual capacity for judgment with greater and greater sensitivity. Thus Sirach recommends, “Take counsel with the wise!” Sir 9:14b. Whoever understands wisdom correctly and acquires her, that one gains instruction with her help and is in a position to move in the leading circles of society; indeed, such a one will have access to the closest association with those in authority. “Do not reject the word of the wise; apply yourself all the more to their maxims! For in that way you will acquire instruction (παιδείαν), in order to stand before princes;” Sir 8:8a, b. Wisdom is thus the basis for the personal qualification that enables individual development in an encompassing manner, so that one may also see into the heart of questions of the common life of all society, and be able to submit proposals for the governing of a people. In summary one may conclude that anyone who wants to be wise must make an effort to acquire wisdom. Wisdom is herself a central reality of one’s own personal spiritual development. Acquiring wisdom is challenging; she herself forms the basis for various relationships that are realized within society. That is now the topic of the next section. The Wise and Others. For Ben Sira Wisdom is not a private possession of the wise. Sayings such as “Answer your neighbor as well as you can” (Sir 9:14b) and the passages discussed concerning the societal role of one who has acquired wisdom make clear that it is directed towards others. Wisdom is a foundation for the prosperous and the development of society. Therefore, it is not surprising that the opinions and contributions of 40  Cf. “As you (Solomon) were wise in your youth, you overflowed like the Nile with education;” Sir 47:14; cf. v. 12. 41  Sirach himself emphasizes that he took pains already from the time of his youth to become wise: “When I was young (‫ ;נער‬HQ.B) and still not restless, I sought zealously for you (Wisdom) (Sir 51:13). 42  Cf. K. H. Walkenhorst: Weise werden und altern bei Ben Sira, in: R. Egger-Wenzel/I. Krammer (eds.), Der Einzelne und seine Gemeinschaft bei Ben Sira, BZAW 270, Berlin/New York 1998, 217–237.

228

Friedrich V. Reiterer

the wise are compared with invigorating water, indeed, with the origin of this essential moisture which causes life-giving fruit to flourish: “Your advice ἡ βουλὴ) is like a spring that brings life (πηγή ζωῆς, Sir 21:13).” Subsequently, it is not merely a descriptive statement that one capable of being a shrewd counselor hides one’s thoughts: “One who is wise (‫ ;)איש חכם‬cf. ἀνὴρ βουλῆς) does not conceal (‫ )לא יכסה‬wisdom (‫חכמה‬, Sir 32:18a).” How can one note that a person can give worthwhile counsel, if that person does not make it known? Certainly, a reticence of that sort43 that is neither worthwhile nor meaningful can actually be a serious problem, and Sirach inserts a sarcastic enquiry into the discussion: “Concealed wisdom (‫ ;חכמה טמונה‬HB.Ma) and hidden treasure; what good are they?” Since this statement is found twice (Sir 41:14 and 20:30), one sees the emphasis that our teacher of wisdom places on representing the deliberations and results of wisdom in a public forum. The statement cited above, i. e., those who are wise are not to hide their wisdom, signifies that the sages are to conduct themselves responsibly and in accordance with their capabilities. The wise pose important questions for society. The wisdom of the sages and their capabilities are an essential reality for society and the community. What is the location of the wise in society at the time of Ben Sira? Naturally, genuine wisdom, along with the insights and counsels based upon it, have their significance, experience their effect, and are accepted not only for the sake of knowledge but are also indispensable for the political and societal public. For that reason, sages also play a significant role in the assembly of the people: “The speech of the prudent (ϕρονίμου) is desired in the assembly (ἐν ἐκκλησίᾳ), and one ponders (διανοηϑήσονται) his words (τοὺς λόγους αὐτου) in one’s heart (ἐν καρδίᾳ ; Sir 21:17).” That which the wise expound and represent in the assembly has a far-reaching effect and concerns the gathered community. Since there are no clearer descriptions of the activity of an assembly of the people, is it not evident there is present here a form of organization known in the specific tradition of Israel as the assembly of the elders, or whether one has to reckon with the beginning adoption of the Greek gerousia 44 in the realm of Israel? One will have to reckon in the following considerations with the influence of both, which shows that we are in a time of transition. The portrayal of the form of the priesthood in the early period45 and the position of the high priest at the time of Sirach make clear 43  Sirach does not want to hear talk for the sake of talking, as can be seen in the many positive statements concerning reserve. 44  Concerning the position of the Jews in the polis, cf. S. Krauter: Bürgerrecht und Kultteilnahme. Politische und kultische Rechte und Pflichten in griechischen Poleis, Rom und antikem Judentum, BZNW 127, Berlin/New York 2004, 265–279. 45  Cf. the long statements about Aaron (Sir 45:6–22), Phineas (Sir 45:23–24: “The office of high priest belongs to him and his descendants for ever”; v 24cd), and above all Simon the high priest (Sir 50:1–21).



The Scribe as the Teacher of Wisdom in Ben Sira

229

now that this office has had a (political) role of leadership for a long time, which was inconceivable in the classical period of the Old Testament. The blessing, and thus the strength for life, is mediated through him to the people. He spreads his hands “over the entire community of Israel ( ‫קהל‬ ‫ ;ישראל‬ἐκκλησίαν υἱῶν ᾿Ισραήλ)” and “the blessing of YHWH46 (‫)ברכת ייי‬ is on his lips, and in the name of YHWH he shows himself as glorious (‫התפאר‬, Sir 50:20b, c, d).” Divine authority has, therefore, brought him into his role! And all prostrate themselves before him. At the same time, problems are noted, which burden the priesthood.47 It would usually have to be explained that Sirach – to some extent very cautious in relation to the priests – mandates that the portions pertaining to the priests be allowed to come to them. As detailed research shows, there is a question in this regard about the material foundation of life for the priests, which, contrary to ancient regulations, consists in property.48 The role and position of the priest is thus in transition! That the priests would have possessed generally an extraordinary influence despite this development appears to be a hasty conclusion, since the high priest alone appears in a prominent position.49 The decisions of the former are not taken into account in questions concerning the “customary” weekday and in those of justice occurring day after day. There remains a vacuum. The many problems that arise demand new and adequate social institutions: the “people” take over the leading tasks in the form of the assembly of the people; yet who plays the authoritative role in this assembly? The elders alone cannot have played it; otherwise Sirach would have certainly mentioned it. A functioning assembly of the elders would have accommodated the approach in Sirach’s reasoning, since he derives his argument as much as possible from the earlier revelation. The elders – whom Sirach highly esteems – are therefore not in a position to undertake from their own power and with generally accepted authority the governing of the people. Furthermore, the Greek world can offer a functioning system of social order in the form of the gerousia, which in a few decades after Sirach undertakes alongside the high priest the governing and representation of 46  The three consonants ‫ ייי‬are one of the forms Sirach uses to transcribe the classical divine name; cf. R. Hayward: El Elyon and the Divine Names in Ben Sira, in: R. Egger-Wenzel (ed.), Ben Sira’s God. Proceedings of the International Ben Sira Conference Durham – Upshaw College 2001, BZAW 321, Berlin/New York 2002, 180–198. 47  Cf. under the viewpoint of power politics, H.-J. Fabry: Jesus Sirach und das Priestertum, in: I. Fischer et al. (eds.), Auf den Spuren der schriftgelehrten Weisen (FS J. Marböck), BZAW 331, Berlin/New York 2003, 265–282. 48  F. V. Reiterer: Gott und Opfer, in: R. Egger-Wenzel (ed.), Ben Sira’s God. Proceedings of the International Ben Sira Conference Durham (Upshaw College) 2001, BZAW 321, Berlin/New York 2002, 136–179, esp. 147–153. 49  Individual families, however, appear to gain influence in the aftermath, as is testified by the rise of the “Maccabees” from a collateral line of the priesthood.

230

Friedrich V. Reiterer

the people, e. g. in international relations.50 Yet we have not reached this point by the time of our sage. The wise person maintains the central role of leadership in the assembly of the people. Consequently, in summary fashion, Sirach can formulate briefly that “the wise person (‫ )חכם‬is the true ruler ( ‫ )מושל‬among the people (‫עמו‬, Sir 9:17b H A).” In what is the competence of the wise grounded? The wisdom of the wise is located in both creation and society. It is rooted in the participation in wisdom and its life-preserving function. The goal of sapiential activity is the welfare of the people: “There are wise (‫חכם‬51 ‫;יש‬ ἀνὴρ σοϕός), who are wise for their people (‫יכחם‬, HBm.Dm; παιδεύσει, Sir 37:23a).” In times of upheaval, it is, however, not only a question of a good and fruitful settlement of emerging questions and especially developing perspectives for the future. The offer of wisdom is indeed directed not only toward concrete and individual questions, but it is rather an approved analysis and guidance that arouses hope. Sirach thus emphasizes that “the profits of their (i. e. of the wise) knowledge, ‫ ;פרי דעתו‬οἱ καρποὶ τῆς συνέσεως) are permanent” (Sir 37:23b). Wise qualities of leadership are directed neither to elitist circles nor to small groups; society as a whole is the beneficiary of such advice, for which reason one reads as a consequence that a wise counselor is the educator of many, in which the absolute term “many” can indeed be understood in a generalizing sense, as in e. g. Isa 53:12,52 and can also be assumed almost equal to “all.” In Sirach’s concept, the wise turn into educators of the people and undertake to a greater degree their formation: “There is a wise man (‫ ;יש חכם‬ἀνήρ πανοῦργος: ‘capable in all’), who is an educator for the many” (‫נחכם‬53 ‫ ;לרבים‬παιδευτής, Sir 37:19). In the fullest sense of the word, it can be said only of God that he is wise, for “only one is wise (εἷς έστιν σοϕός), demanding the highest respect, who sits upon the throne” (Sir 1:8a, b).54 Humans have basically a portion of this 50  Cf. in addition to the “Council of Elders of the People” the unique use of “Council of Elders/High Council”: “The high priest (ἀρχιερεύς) Jonathan, the Council of Elders of the People (γερουσία τοῦ ἔϑνους), the priests (οἱ ἱερεῖς) and all the Jewish people (ὁ λοιπὸς δήμος τῶν ᾿Ιουδαίων) greet their brothers, the Spartans” (I Macc 12:6); “The inhabitants of Jerusalem and Judea, the High Council (ἡ γερουσία) and Judas wish Aristobulus, …“ (II Macc 1:10); in addition, cf. II Macc 11:27; Jud 4:8; 15:8. 51  Collective singular. 52  “Therefore I give to him his portion among the many (‫ ; ברבים‬πολλούς), and he divides the spoil with the powerful, because he surrendered his life to death, and allowed himself to be reckoned among the lawbreakers. For he bore the sins of many (‫ ;חטא־רבים‬ἀμαρτίας πολλῶν), and made intercession for the guilty.” 53  G interprets the statement of the N-stem’s ‫ נחכם‬in this sense. 54  Cf. J. Corley: Wisdom Versus Apocalyptic and Science in Sirach 1,1–10, in: F. García Martínez, Wisdom and Apocalypticism in the Dead Sea Scrolls and in the Biblical Tradition, BETL 168, Leuven/Paris 2003, 269–285; P. Beentjes: Full Wisdom is From the Lord.



The Scribe as the Teacher of Wisdom in Ben Sira

231

wisdom in a mediated fashion, since God already has given this as a gift to human creatures. Wisdom is the structure of creation.55 In this respect, one must always keep in view the fact that wisdom itself is a creature: “I (wisdom) came forth from the mouth of the Most High, and I covered the earth as a mist … Since the creator of the universe gave me the command; the one who created me (ὁ κτίστῆς) knew a place of rest for my tent […].” (Sir 24:3, 8a). The created world itself is a well thought out and organized reality: “In God’s creation – he distributed divine works from the beginning! From the time of the determination of their tasks56 […] Nothing thwarts another,57 and they do not oppose God’s command forever” (Sir 16:26, 28). In these works, humans occupy a prominent position, as the following excerpts show: “Similarly, God clothed them (human beings) with power (ἰσχύν) and made them according to his image (κατ’ εἰκόνα αὐτοῦ […] God has filled (ἐνέπλησεν) them with prudent reason (ἐπιστήμην συνέσεως) […] He has apportioned (προσέϑηκεν) to them reason and given (ἐκληροδότησεν) them the law of life” (νόμον ζωῆς;58 Sir 17:3a, b, 7a, 11a, b, from Sir 17:14).59 This general potential for wisdom, which is mentioned above, does not produce its own effect. Rather, education is required in order to develop the wise predisposition to independent association with wisdom. One who investigates and reflects upon it has the prerequisites to pass on the corresponding artistry. Therefore we read, “only the one who has learned to formulate sayings ( ‫ )משל‬can teach them (‫ ;ילמדנה‬Sir 15:10b)”. The Sage as Teacher. Ben Sira possessed an inner drive to communicate his thoughts. The grandson composed his work in Egypt, probably in the vicinity of Alexandria, and was thus surrounded daily by the philosophical elite of that time and others who were well educated. A veritable competition of stirring ideas surrounded him, and he recognized his grandfather as their pioneer. In his time he had anticipated much of what now was acquiring significance. Therefore, it is understandable that one traces something almost akin to pride concerning the grandfather, when the grandson Sir 1,1–10 and its Place in Israel’s Wisdom Literature, in: A. Passaro/G. Bellia (eds.), The Wisdom of Ben Sira. Studies on Tradition, Redaction, and Theology, DCLSt 1, Berlin/New York 2008 (forthcoming). 55  Cf. F. V. Reiterer: Die immateriellen Ebenen der Schöpfung bei Ben Sira, in: N. Calduch-Benages/J. Vermeylen (eds.), Treasures of Wisdom. Studies in Ben Sira and the Book of Wisdom (FS M. Gilbert), BThL 143, Leuven 1999, 91–127 = in: idem, „Alle Weisheit stammt vom Herrn …“, Gesammelte Studien zu Ben Sira, ed. R. Egger-Wenzel, BZAW 375, Berlin/ New York 2007, 185–227. 56  Literally, Portions – μερίδας. 57  Literally presses hard, comes too near – ἐξέϑλιψεν. 58  Cf. F. V. Reiterer: Neue Akzente in der Gesetzesvorstellung ‫ תורה חיים‬bei Ben Sira, in: M. Witte (ed.), Gott und Mensch im Dialog (FS O. Kaiser), BZAW 345/II, Berlin/New York 2004, 851–871, esp. 854–858. 59  Cf. also Sir 15:14 concerning the superior endowment of humans within creation.

232

Friedrich V. Reiterer

reports how after a thorough study of the Scriptures he “felt compelled also to write something himself, in order to promote instruction and wisdom” (εἰς παιδείαν καὶ σοϕίαν) (Prologue 12). The grandfather maintains that his own study of Scripture has furnished a sure foundation for his own sayings of wisdom. The meditation from generation to generation proved that he left practical life experience for the many emerging questions in order to find solutions to the insecurities of daily existence. The grandfather saw the crimson thread that connected earlier questions about life and the modern challenges. He went step by step through individual, decisive themes and wished to offer help to the generation to follow by showing in his work how his accomplishments “require παιδεία and σοϕία.” Those who stem from the people of revelation therefore do not only find continuing help for themselves for the possibility of coping with life (ἐννόμος βίωσις; Prologue 14) on the basis of the rules of God, but also are located on the same level occupied by the other great educational schools of that time. With the brief characteristic discussed directly above in the prologue, a thematic arch is produced that reaches the end of the book, where the summation of the work of Sirach is described: he has composed “prudent education ( ‫ )מוסר שכל‬and suitable maxims” (‫מושל‬60; Sir 50:27a). There are additional sayings that have been written down for the formation of others, in which the use of the technical term maxim emphasizes enduring reflection. In Sirach Scripture serves as the basis of wise analysis. What Sirach does is to offer his contribution for the solution of difficult, indeed very difficult, questions. Just as a physician has a patient before him or her, and gives a diagnosis that makes possible the right therapy and with that the healing of the patient, it is the same situation with the analysis of important questions of life. The analogy of the activities of “physician” and “teacher of wisdom” arises from the description of the analysis of a physician in Sir 38:14b and the comparison with 50:27d, where it is a matter of the activity61 of wisdom in Sirach’s heart.62 He does not keep the results to himself, but rather he causes them to spill over (‫ ;ניבע‬Sir 50:27d) in order The singular of the participle must be understood as collective. The argument is better understood, if one understands at this point the later form ‫פשר‬ (= ‫ פתר‬in classical Hebrew, which occurs in Sir. 50:27d, ‫)פתור‬. In Sir. 38:14 it occurs as ‫פשרה‬. A derivative of ‫ פשר‬is attested in Qoheleth, a work contemporary to that of eSirach. In comparison with Qoh 7:23–29, where it is a matter of the futile search for wisdom, Qoh 8:1 appears as an isolated and perhaps concluding counterpoint from an intentional catchword, which formulates the – inherently – positive aspect, which would attain wisdom: “Who is here like a sage (‫ ?)מי כהחכם‬Who understands how to interpret (explain, ‫ )פשר‬am important matter (‫)דבר‬.” The nominal sentence was resolved as verbal. Human wisdom is understood in the saying: “The wisdom of a person (‫ )חכמת אדם‬makes one’s countenance radiant, and one’s strict tensions are relaxed.” 62  The “heart” (‫ )לב‬is the seat of all positive capabilities and skills; the heart as seat of the drives, emotional tendencies, spiritual capacities, artistic ability, etc. 60  61 



The Scribe as the Teacher of Wisdom in Ben Sira

233

to reach an expression that suggests flowing water: “The words out of a person’s mouth are deep waters, a bubbling brook, a source of wisdom” (Prov 18:4). Just as a source cannot be restrained, but rather issues forth in life,63 so the teacher of wisdom proposes solutions for its beneficiaries. The counsels are rooted in the study of one’s own tradition, and Sirach adopts a fixed expression: “I will open my mouth with a saying ( ‫ ;)במשל‬I wish to proclaim the secrets of past ages” (‫אביעה‬, Ps 78:2). In the sense of the cognitive atmosphere, into which the author led us by means of his borrowing vocabulary from Ps 78, we look back at the tradition, which began with the past ages, the time of the ancestors, and which becomes an arrangement bringing together successes and failures. Nevertheless, in the positive further development up to the present, one can recognize the action and activity of God: “It is good for the one who meditates upon this, and whoever takes it to heart (‫ )נותן על לבו‬becomes wise (‫)יחכם‬.” “He who acts in accordance with it has power for everything, for the esteem for God64 is the step towards him” (Sir 50:28 f).65 The history of God’s activity in creation, especially with human beings, is theology that may be observed as well as “theopraxis.” The scribe is concerned now with this resource: “Standing even in the instruction of the Most High (ἐν νόμῳ ὑψίστου), he develops his considerations” (διανοουμένου; 38:34d). A scribe who is wise is anxious to snatch every bit of information that has been handed down and to concern himself with it: He searches through the wisdom (σοϕίαν) of all the ancestors, and labors over the prophecies; he busies himself with the explanations (διήγησιν) of the famous, and enters into instances of exemplary examples (ἐν στροϕαῖς παραβολῶν) (Sir 39:2).

Not until he has gathered and worked through everything is he in a position to respond to questions posed to him with answers of such a sort that they truly correspond to the instruction66 from God. The teacher of wis63  “Bubbling forth” is used vary often in a transferred sense for oral statements (Prov 1:23), in which a lasting flow is a favorite point of comparison; for that reason, the unlimited statements about fools and the wicked (Ps 59:8, 94:4; Prov 15:2, 28) use this verb in their descriptions. 64  Or following the variant reading: the light of God. 65  Here the assumption is that αὐτοῦ with τὸ ἴχνος refers to God, who had been mentioned previously: ϕόβος κυρίου. 66  Cf. contrary to the assumed identification of ‫ חכמה‬with ‫תורה‬, which is maintained over and over again (cf. e. g., J. Yieh: One Teacher. Jesus’ Teaching Role in Matthew’s Gospel Report, BZNW 124, Berlin/New York 124, 82), the differences between the two, however, demonstrated by F. V. Reiterer: The Interpretation of the Wisdom Tradition of the Torah within Ben Sira, in: A. Passaro/G. Bellia (eds.), The Interpretation of Wisdom Tradition of the Torah within Ben Sira, in: The Wisdom of Ben Sira, Studies on Tradition and Theology, DCLSt 1, Berlin/New York 2008 (forthcoming).

234

Friedrich V. Reiterer

dom is aware that there are many distinct areas, but there is none where he would not be competent. The self-evaluation of the teacher of wisdom is shown in such statements. Ben Sira is born to be a teacher. In his grandson’s opinion, Sirach himself corresponded to this ideal. After thorough study of the entire revelation, he could no longer keep it to himself. He was concerned about articulating his experience gained from wisdom in both expressions and maxims for others. Sir 39:12a, b comes to mind here, in which Sirach compares the drive to communicate with the full moon. Deliberation, which initially is inconspicuous, becomes like the new moon, i. e., it waxes like the moon. Once one has attained one’s entire “power to shine,” one can do nothing other than to flood the whole world with one’s gentle light. This is how Sirach sees himself: “Furthermore, on the basis of manifold reflections,67 I wish to speak; for I am filled as the full moon (διξομηνία).” Thus Sirach becomes a teacher, not from passion, but rather on the basis of his inner determination (cf. Jer 20:9). The student of wisdom also needs a teacher. Sirach himself looks thankfully at the one who once instructed him, looks upon that one with respect, and shows his reverence: “I want to offer (‫למדי‬, HB.Q; τῷ διδόντι μοι σοϕίαν) respect to my teacher ‫ ;אתן הודי‬δώσω δόξαν)”; Sir 51:17b. In this regard, it seems that there is a shift in emphasis from the Hebrew version, which is well substantiated, to the Greek, which adds “wisdom.” For the Hebrew author, the determination that it was a “teacher”68 is sufficient concerning the one who had instructed Sirach. For him “teaching” is a very full and fixed expression: even the discussion of Moses does not culminate in the portrayal of Moses as a mediator of revelation or as a lawgiver. Rather the ‫ תורה‬turns into teaching, which Moses passes down as a teacher: “In his hand God placed the commandment (‫)מצוה‬.” The ‫ תורה‬now “is understood” as “guidance and instruction (‫)תורת חיים ותבונה‬, of which Moses gives instruction (‫ )ללמד‬of its individual precepts” (Sir 45:5c, d, e).69 One will have to reckon with the fact that there were also other teachers of wisdom at the time of Sirach. It is only due to the consideration of “age” that Eleasar could have been as a boy a contemporary of Sirach. According to 2 Macc 6:18, he is described as one of the most esteemed scribes (τις τῶν πρωτευόντων γραμματέων ἀνήρ) and is depicted as already ninety years of age (2 Macc 6:24).70 At any rate, 2 Maccabees points out that there was 67  The passive participle should be rendered with the parenthetical insertion; the fact should be expressed that the deliberations are already concluded and have, as it were, swept the thinker along. 68  On the basis of the masculine formulation, it is not possible to relate the “activity of teaching” to wisdom. 69  Cf. Reiterer: Akzente, 852–854. 70  Cf. Reiterer: Text, 3–13.



The Scribe as the Teacher of Wisdom in Ben Sira

235

a rather considerable number of scribes, a bit of information that is found nowhere in Sirach. Presumably, teachers of wisdom were isolated individuals in Sirach’s time. In this book one indeed hears about the wise (cf. the explanations in 3:2 above), but there is no mention of several teachers of wisdom as a social group, and there is not even a word about schools. This suggests the conclusion that the origins of scribal sages in the new71 form that sustained the people had soon evolved into a movement of scribes as witnessed by 2 Maccabees. The teachers of wisdom were highly esteemed (cf. 2 Macc 6:23), and their moral conduct was to provide examples not only for youth, but also for everyone (2 Macc 6:28,31).72 Ben Sira speaks of his “house of learning.” The result reported in 2 Maccabees may have been launched permanently on its course through Sirach’s promotion that previously solicited students to receive instruction in wisdom. He promises, after all, next to education and formation, personal prosperity and joy on the basis of education in wisdom: “I sought (‫ )חשבתי‬to experience good (‫)להיטיב‬, and I was eager for (‫ )קנאתי‬prosperity, and I am not giving up”73 (‫ ולא אשוב‬HQ74; Sir 51:18a, b). For education itself, he founded a house of learning, and he cries out, “Remain in my house of learning” (‫ ;בבית מדרשי‬Sir 51:23b). In this reference, he appropriates the idea of the philosophical schools of the Hellenists.75 However, he has developed the content of his own program. This content issues from Sirach’s own work, whether given orally or available in writing. This program of learning was probably the textbook in the house of learning just mentioned. “How long do you intend to be deprived of everything, and leave your souls in thirst? … Many have heard my teaching (‫)למודי‬76 since my youth; you will earn silver as well as gold through me [the teacher of wisdom]. I have delight in my house of learning (‫ישיבתי‬77), and you also will not (have to) be ashamed about my song” (Sir 51:24, 2–29). 71  There are distinctive differences between that picture, found in Ezra and Nehemiah; it can nevertheless be attributed to the details of the teaching. 72  Cf. 2 Macc 6:31: “[…] through his death he left behind an example of nobility (ὑπόδειγμα γενναιότητος) not only for the youth (οὐ μόνον τοῖς νέοις), but also for the majority of the people (τοῖς πλείστοις τοῦ ἔϑνους), and a monument of virtue (μνημόσυνον ἀρετῆς)“. 73  Literally, “I do not turn away (from it).” 74  In H B the reading is: “I do not wish to turn away (‫)אהפך‬, because I have found it (‫”)אמצאנו‬. 75  Cf. the biographical references in note 20. 76  The word ‫ למד‬attested in classical Hebrew means, according to W. Gesenius/F. Buhl: Hebräisches und aramäisches Handwörterbuch über das Alte Testament, Berlin u. a. 171962, 387: “[…] accustomed to something, practiced in it, […] student, disciple […].”; its later meaning is “learning, instruction, learning”; cf. J. Levy: Wörterbuch über die Talmudim und Midraschim. Nebst Beiträgen von Heinrich Lebebrecht Fleischer und den Nachträgen und Berichtigungen zur zweiten Auflage von Lazarus Goldschmidt Bd. 2, Darmstadt 1963, 512; J. Lavy: Langen­scheidts Handwörterbuch. Hebräisch – Deutsch, Berlin u. a. 1975, 254. 77  The substantive ‫ישיבה‬, not attested protocanonically, is derived from the verb ‫( ישב‬to sit).

236

Friedrich V. Reiterer

The study of revelation presses Sirach to compose wise sayings himself. With the desire to look back at his own history of revelation and from there to develop the leadership of God and the basis for success in life, he studies closely earlier approaches to wise meditations, but places such an emphasis upon them that the result seems altogether new. Analogous to the Greek schools, he develops his own “house of learning;” by attending it, the “student” finds fulfillment for one’s own striving for prosperity, through which strenuous learning becomes savory. Instruction itself leads to the enrichment and deepening of insights so that one flourishes and leads others to flourish.

Wisdom and Its Areas of Use What is wisdom in Sirach’s understanding? Wisdom, as we have already seen, is an epithet of God, describing one of God’s ways of working, which can be experienced in the created order. It is further the act of structuring preceding creation and originating with God, and it produces the inner order of all areas of creation. Wisdom is a quality of greatness which stands over against humans,78 yet offers them the opportunity to be incorporated into its realm by the acceptance of its regulations. Now even a sage can mediate wisdom to others, which is to be transcribed in the sage’s key words in its central dimensions: (a) understanding, knowledge (therefore a parallel expression to reason and education), (b) understanding and penetrating insight, and (c) capabilities and skills in the practice of implementation. On this foundation it is now time to gather important themes of Sirach’s wisdom, in which a selection is brought forward corresponding to the subject proposed for this contribution. Statements about God, the individual, creation and history, religious life, as, for example, worship, etc., do not enter into the discussion. The study focuses now only on the following topics: family relations, politics, economy, and manners in public. – The most worthwhile thing is a wife as a partner,79 with whom a man can share life free from care (e. g., 7:19; 26:3; 40:19d); the most fearful thing is the opposite (25:16). – Children should not be spoiled (e. g., 30:7, 9). A consistent, and perhaps even strict, upbringing is necessary (30:13) in order to so form the personality that the parents will experience joy in the children. The solidarity between children and parents will become so deep that it remains intact even beyond death (30:6). Sirach is especially concerned, almost 78  79 

Portrayed in the form of a woman. This statement gives evidence that Sirach was composed by a man.



The Scribe as the Teacher of Wisdom in Ben Sira

237

in anxiety, about daughters and is repeatedly concerned with this topic (7:24 f, 42:12). – It appears that the stability of family relations at the time of Sirach is no longer a foregone conclusion. He even advises that one not surrender himself to his own wife, and still less to one’s children, so that possessions become an inheritance prematurely (33:2–22). Indeed, it is better to have no children at all than bad ones. Here the crisis of the time is expressly addressed. – Sirach establishes the conduct of parents occasionally on theological grounds, and at other times on purely practical ones. On the basis of good deeds in relation to elderly parents, God has sins melt like snow in the sun (3:14 f). However, whoever gives one’s own children a bad example through one’s bad conduct to one’s own parents, should not be surprised if one’s own children play a dirty trick on him or her (3:5). – Sirach places great value on friendship.80 What must be considered here is that he is not thinking of simple acquaintance, but rather close bonds, which have sufficient strength to offer resistance to political pressure (37:5) and represent the one firm basis for community. – One must exercise great care in speech. Just as one can build up a community with one’s tongue, so one can also destroy it: topics for which Sirach gives reminders again and again; cf. 11:8 f, 20:20.81 – Sirach views wealth with a divided opinion: on the one hand it is not negative in itself, yet it is very transitory (Sir 11:18 f), and in addition it is often misused (13:20). Thus, riches may render someone poor rather than lead to social solidity (13:18).82 – Care for the poor and generous support for them is a central concern for Sirach (13:3, 13:4; 35:4, 10–12); God is on their side (e. g. 11:21, 35:16 f). 80  Cf. F. V. Reiterer: Gelungene Freundschaft als tragende Säule einer Gesellschaft. Exegetische Untersuchung von Sir 25:1–11, in: idem (ed.), Freundschaft bei Ben Sira. Beiträge des Symposions zu Ben Sira – Salzburg 1995, BZAW 244, Berlin/New York 1996, 133–169, = idem: Alle Weisheit stammt vom Herrn …, Gesammelte Studien zu Ben Sira, ed. R. EggerWenzel, BZAW 375, Berlin/New York 2007, 269–305. 81  For this subject, see A. Lindner: Lingua tripla, giogo ferreo e l’oro della parola. Studio esegetico di Sir 28,13–26 in parallelo con testi sapienziali egiziani, Rom 2001; and A. A. Di Lella: Ben Sira’s Doctrine on the Discipline of the Tongue: An Intertextual and Synchronic Analysis, in: A. Passaro/G. Bellia (eds.), The Wisdom of Ben Sira. Studies on Tradition, Redaction, and Theology, DCLSt 1, Berlin/New York 2008 (forthcoming). 82  V. Morla Asensio: Poverty and Wealth: Ben Sira’s View of Possessions, in: R. EggerWenzel/I. Krammer (eds.), Der Einzelne und seine Gemeinschaft bei Ben Sira, BZAW 270, Berlin/New York 1998, 151–178; O. Kaiser: „Reichtum ist gut, ist er ohne Schuld“. Sir 13,24, in: F. Reiterer (ed.), „Reichtum ist gut, ist er ohne Schuld“ (Sir 13:24). Vorstellungen eines Exegeten. Ehrendoktorat für Otto Kaiser, SEThV 2, Münster/Hamburg/London 2003, 10–49; idem: Arm und reich bei Jesus Sirach, in: H. Deuser/G. Konde/S. Rink, Theologie und Kirchenleitung (FS P. Steinacker), Marburg 2003, 17–30.

238

Friedrich V. Reiterer

– With respect to rulers, Sirach is very cautious (e. g. 10:24). On the one hand, he plays with the idea that those educated in wisdom can have a career among them (e. g. 11:1), yet at the same time he sees more dangers than opportunities for them (e. g. 10:3). – There are foreigners who threaten the existence of the people. Resistance against them is not a matter for Sirach, but he does engage in intense prayer so that God may cause them to disappear from the scene, cf. 36:22. Otherwise, God-fearing strangers and foreigners are worthy of honor (e. g., 10:22). – One should be occupied with money only with great caution, and under no circumstance should one imperil his/her own existence through collateral, or imperil the existence of another through money transactions. – With exceptional detail, Sirach is concerned with conduct at banquets and other public gatherings (31:1–32:13). – Luxuries like wine – in itself a gift of God for enjoyment83 (31:27 f) – or abundant food do not lead to disgust (e. g. 31:25, 29; 37:2–31), but may destroy human bonds and the foundation of the economy (18:33). – Health is not only an individual concern but also a task for society (e. g. 17:28; 30:1–16). One could continue with this enumeration. Sirach wants to be understood as all-embracing, and he is concerned also with many areas. In summation, one can agree with the judgment of Wischmeyer: The sage is master of and teaches all fields of public as well as private life in one’s own country and in foreign lands. The sage thus teaches in political, legal, and domestic circles. The teaching concerns religion and morals, public and private ethics. Since sages receive teaching directly from the wisdom of God, they are an indisputable authority and necessary support for the governing authorities as well as for the Jews. In so doing, sages themselves are fully independent for their wisdom protects them even with personal poverty. Sages are critical of both the underclass and the upper classes for striving for advancement. At the same time, the sages do not further the progress of society or politics, but are rather internal critics, i. e., specialists, who from time to time instill their experience and understanding and knowledge into individuals. At the same time they are somewhat like a cultural eye of a needle, through which everyone who wants to profit from education must pass.84

83  Cf. O. Wahl: Lebensfreude und Genuß bei Jesus Sirach, in: R. Egger-Wenzel/I. Krammer (eds.), Der Einzelne und seine Gemeinschaft bei Ben Sira, BZAW 270, Berlin/New York 1998, 271–284. 84  Wischmeyer: Kultur, 65 f.



The Scribe as the Teacher of Wisdom in Ben Sira

239

The Wise Scribe and Other Professions Although Sirach frequently is concerned with various aspects of work,85 one generally refers to 38:2–39:11,86 if it is a matter of the relationship of manual labor to that of the teacher of wisdom: 85  Cf. among others F. V. Reiterer: Die Stellung Ben Siras zur “Arbeit”. Notizen zu einem kaum berücksichtigten Thema sirazidischer Lehre, in: idem (ed.), Ein Gott – eine Offenbarung. Beiträge zur Theologie, Exegese und Spiritualität (FS N. Füglister), Würzburg 1991, 257–289 = idem: „Alle Weisheit stammt vom Herrn …“, Gesammelte Studien zu Ben Sira, ed. R. EggerWenzel, BZAW 375, Berlin/New York 2007, 229–267; L. Schrader: Beruf, Arbeit und Muße als Sinnerfüllung bei Jesus Sirach, in: R. Egger-Wenzel/I. Krammer (eds.), Der Einzelne und seine Gemeinschaft bei Ben Sira, (BZAW 270), Berlin/New York 1998, 117–149; J. Marböck: Mit Hand und Herz. Der schriftgelehrte Weise und das Handwerk in Sir 38,24-34, BN (2008). 86  The following should be brought forth as exemplary in the extensive secondary literature: J. Zenner: Ecclesiasticus 38,2–39,10, ZKTh 21 (1897), 567–574; G. Moore: Judaism in the First Centuries of the Christian Era. The Age of the Tannaim 1, Cambridge 111970, 37–47; K. Fruhstorfer: Des Weisen curriculum vitae nach Sirach (39,1–5), ThPQ 94 (1941), 140 ff; B. van de Walle: Le thème de la satire des métiers dans la littérature égyptienne: Chronique d’Égypte 22 (1947), 50–72; R. Murphy: The Concept of Wisdom Literature, in: J. L. MacKenzie (ed.), The Bible in Current Catholic Thought, Saint Mary’s Theology Studies 1, New York 1962, 46–54; J. Haspecker: Got­tesfurcht bei Jesus Sirach. Ihre religiöse Struktur und ihre literarische und doktrinäre Bedeutung, AnBib 30, Rom 1967, 179 ff; L. Alonso Schökel: Sprache Gottes und der Menschen. Literarische und sprachpsychologische Beob­achtungen zur Heiligen Schrift, KBANT, Düsseldorf 1968, 64–67; J. Marböck: Weisheit im Wandel. Unter­suchungen zur Weisheitstheologie bei Ben Sira, BBB 37, Bonn 1971 = Untersuchungen zur Weisheitstheologie bei Ben Sira, Graz 1970; BZAW 272 = Berlin/New York 1999, 118 ff; Pié y Ninot, Salvador: La palabra de Dios en los Libros Sapienciales, CStP 17, Barcelona 1972, 147–191; Rickenbacher: Weisheitsperikopen, 176–196; N. Poulssen: Het wijsheidsideaal van Jezus Sirach: een impressie, OGL 54 (1977), 105–108; H. Kreißig: Die Stellung zur Arbeit bei Jesus Sirach, in: B. Brentjes (ed.), Der arbeitende Mensch in den Gesellschaften und Kulturen des Orients, Halle 1978, 57–61; A. A. Di Lella: The Wis­dom of Ben Sira. An Israelite Sage Confronts a Changing World, BiTod 101 (1979), 1954–1961; M. Hadas: Erziehung, in: idem, Der Hellenismus. Werden und Wirkung, Kindlers Kulturgeschichte Europas 3, München 1983, 88–106; Stadelmann, Ben Sira 217–246, 284–293; B. L. Mack: Under the Shadow of Moses. Authorship and Authority in Hellenistic Judaism, SBLSP 21, 1982, 299–318; G. Prato: Classi lavorative e “otium” sapientiale. – Il significato teologico di una dicotomia sociale secondo Ben Sira (38,2–39,11), in: G. de Gennaro (ed.), Lavoro e riposo nella Bibbia, Studio Biblico Teologico Aquilano, Neapel 1987, 149–175; E. Rasco: Gesù: lavoro, riposo e regno nei vangeli, in: G. de Gennaro (ed.), Lavoro e riposo nella Bibbia, Studio Biblico Teologico Aquilano, Neapel 1987, 205–233; J. Marböck: Sir 38,24–39,11: Der schriftgelehrte Weise. Ein Beitrag zur Gestalt und Lehre Ben Siras, in: M. Gilbert (ed.), La sagesse de l’Ancien Testament. Nouvelle édition mise à jour, BETL 51, Leuven 21990 = in: idem, Gottes Weisheit unter uns. Zur Theologie des Buches Sirach, hg. v. I. Fischer, Herders Biblische Studien 6, Freiburg i. Br./Basel/Wien u. a. 1995, 25–51; B. Lang: Klugheit als Ethos und Weisheit als Beruf, in: A. Assmann (ed.), Weisheit. Archäologie der literarischen Kommunikation III, München 1991, 177–192; M. Hengel: „Schriftaus­legung“ und „Schriftwerdung“ in der Zeit des Zweiten Tempels, in: idem/H. Löhr (eds.), Schriftauslegung im antiken Judentum und im Urchristentum, WUNT 73, Tübingen 1994, 1–71; R. Argall: 1 Enoch and Sirach. A Comparative Literary and Conceptual Analysis of the Themes of Revelation, Creation and Judgement, SBLEJL 8, Atlanta, GA

240

Friedrich V. Reiterer

“How can one be shown as wise (‫)יתחכם‬, who holds the plow and swaggers with the goad, who drives cattle on the pasture, brings back oxen, passes the time with young bulls, directs attention to the harrow of the furrow, and is intent on completing the fattening? Tradespeople and artists must also work; they are busy night and day, cut signet rings, see their task to bring variation into many-colored fabric, direct their attention to the reproduction of the model, and are intent upon completing the work beautifully. Likewise the smiths sit at the anvil and attend to the iron implements. The blast of the fire makes their flesh melt, the heat of the oven burns through them, the din of the hammer deafens their ears, the model of the implements hold their eyes spellbound by the completion of the pieces, directs their attention to the completion of the pieces, and the work is embellished when it is ready. Similarly, the potters sit in front of their work and turn the wheel with their feet, are incessantly concerned about their work, are zealous for the entirety of the hold, knead the clay with their arms and remove its viscosity with their feet, direct their attention to the completion of the glaze, and are intent upon setting the oven to the right temperature;” Sir 38:25–30. Sirach enumerates several professions that are marked by great exertion in a high concentration: the farmer, craftsperson, smith, and potter. First of all are the farmers with all of their toils, whose basic details are set forth in Sirach’s position concerning them. Farmers never come to the point of finding such rest that they may direct their attention throughout on the experience and values of the ancients and seek to develop further their insight in order to prove themselves as wise (‫ ;יתחכם‬38:25a).87 Therefore, on the one hand, those stand who study the Scriptures of revelation and who could study further on the journeys in which people come to know the knowledge of the peoples (Sir 39:4b), and on the other hand the ones stand who are toiling heavily. The majority of exegetes see in the contrast a devaluing characterization88 of the farmer, while a few others speak once 1995, 84–89; J. McKinlay: Gendering Wisdom the Host. Biblical Invitations to Eat and Drink, JSOTSup 216; Gender, Culture, Theory 4, Sheffield 1998, 133–159; L. Schrader: Sir 38,24–39,11: Die Plage der Handwerker, die Muße und der Glanz des weisen Schriftgelehrten, in: R. Egger-Wenzel/I. Krammer (eds.), Der Einzelne und seine Gemeinschaft bei Ben Sira, BZAW 270, Berlin/New York 1998, 117–149. 87  The verb form essentially determines the understanding. For that reason, I suggest once again that it is not “to acquire wisdom,” but rather “to show oneself as wise” (thus to realize the results of “being wise” in concrete analyses, counsels, etc.). 88  Cf. Wischmeyer: Kultur, 38 f, which sees an “unequivocally anti-farmer” opinion; similarly, but more moderately Schrader: Plage, 122 f, because “Jesus Sirach has distanced himself considerably from the older proverbial wisdom of the Old Testament, which consistently presented a high estimation for the farmers’ calling”; still more mild, but no less clear when read in its context: “Both the superscription of 38,24 and the question of v. 25: ‘How should … become wise,’ which receives a negative illustration and response in the entire first section,



The Scribe as the Teacher of Wisdom in Ben Sira

241

again of an “agricultural ideal.”89 Those who have in sight the balanced argumentation with which Sirach takes great pains, and take the entire book into consideration, agree neither with one nor with the other. If anyone considers the saying, “Those who farm the land heap up great piles of sheaves” (Sir 20:28a), they see that the notice about the ample harvest by its very presence describes the well-being for which the farmer vouches. There is no negative tendency in such a statement. If one also takes into consideration 40:19c (“Cattle-breeding and agriculture cause the body (‫)שאר‬90 to flourish,” H Ma), one records a further indication of Sirach’s high regard concerning agriculture. So then, how is one to understand the saying of Sir 38:25a standing between 20:28a and 40:19c? It is indeed clear that Sirach is aiming at an antithesis between contrary types of professions. All the enumerated professions (e. g., one could refer to physicians, Sir 38:15) presume an indispensable specialization and play a significant role for society: “They all rely on their hands, and all are experienced in their calling. No city is inhabited without them, and wherever they dwell, they will not go hungry” (Sir 38:31 f). Those without roofs over their heads, and all the more dramatic, those who have nothing to eat, cannot survive. Sirach suggests no negative assessment of these practical callings. Even so a methodological question is decisive for exegesis: there are those whom Sirach classifies as scholars, deep in thought, formulating universal relationships, and who are somewhat distanced from the realities that he himself analyzes, and are not like those in callings engaged in dangerous and concrete temporal phenomena. In the contrast evaluated abstractly, such people will see that which is decisive in and of itself: the profession of the wise is more valuable than the others, as the case seems to be in the following: “They will not enter into the assembly of the people (εἰς βουλὴν λαοῦ),    they are not prominent in the congregation (ἐν ἐκκλησίᾳ). They do not sit as judges (ἐπὶ δίϕρον δικαστοῦ),    and have no idea about justice and law (διαϑήκην κρίματος). They divulge no learning (παιδείαν),    and one cannot find wise sayings (ἐν παραβολαῖς) among them.    The only thing they know is worldly callings;    they direct their attention to the practice of a trade.”

It is otherwise with those who devote themselves completely to the law of the Most High (ἐν νόμῳ ὑψίστου), and study it (Sir 38:33 f). … The negative answer certainly is already far-reaching in itself”; J. Marböck: Sir 38,2–39,11 299 = idem: Gottes Weisheit 179. 89  Cf. Hengel, Judentum 104; cf. 53–102; S. Boström, S. G.: Proverbiastudien (LUANF Avd. 1, Bd. 30 Nr. 3) Lund 1935. 90  While it is not certain, the H B-Text reads apparently “name“.

242

Friedrich V. Reiterer

The better existence itself, however, is not found there. The problem in question is something different. As Sirach states, other questions are pending: how is there survival in an imperiled society that needs new perspectives in leadership, and what qualification do such people have to bring with them? The one who sees in Sirach’s writing the effort to solve a political problem along with addressing other concerns perceives in the antithesis an emphasis on the nature of the significance of those who have adopted wisdom. The case pled for the wise leaves the impression that Sirach, as stands to reason in an agricultural society, opposes an unexpressed rebuke. The average person in Israel sees in the concerns of the sages an art “without bread.” What good is the study of old ideas? Certainly, they do not correspond to the leading political currents, and even more, they cause worry about rejection and hostility from the Hellenistic ruling class. In response, Sirach emphasizes that in the chaotic political situation the wise are in a position to take up and fulfill a position of leadership, as for example the judgeship, which contains positive perspectives on the future. Sirach repeatedly names the necessary foundation for this position: sages know the instruction of the Most High,91 a theme that he forms in such a way that mention of God resonates in a not unfamiliar way even in the ears of those with a Greek education. In this sense Sirach continues the argumentation and displays the qualities that scribes trained in wisdom bring along with them: 1  They plumb the depths of the ancestral wisdom (σοϕίαν) and deal with the prophecies (ἐν προϕητείας),  2  they pay attention to the statements (διήγησιν) of the famous, and they enter into exemplary examples (ἐν στροϕαῖς παραβολῶν).  3  They delve into the hidden meaning of parables (ἀπόκρυϕα παροιμιῶν) and they linger over the riddles of wisdom sayings (ἐν αἰνίγμασιν).  4  In the circles of the great they perform service, and they appear before princes; they travel through foreign lands, and experience good and evil among humans.  5  They direct their attention to seek the Lord (πρὸς κύριον) their creator and pray to the Most High (ἔναντι ὑψίστου); they open their mouths in prayer and make entreaty because of their sin.  6  If God, the Most High (κύριος ὁ μέγας), wills it, they are filled with the spirit of insight (πνεύματι συνέσεως): God brings into prominence God’s own words of wisdom (ῥήματα σοϕίας) and in prayer they praise the Lord.  7  They understand counsel (βουλήν) and knowledge (ἐπιστήμην) and examine the hidden things (ἐν τοῖς ἀποκρύϕοις).  8  They bring forward sensible learning (παιδείαν διδασκαλίας) and the law of the Lord (ἐν νόμῳ διαϑήκης κυρίου) is their glory.  9  Many praise their insight (τὴν σύνεσιν), which will never pass away. Their memory will never fade away, their name lives on into distant generations.  10  The peoples (ἔϑνη) tell of their wisdom (τὴν σοϕίαν); the congregation (ἐκκλησία) proclaims their praise.  11  As long as they live, they receive 91 

Cf. Hayward: El Elyon.



The Scribe as the Teacher of Wisdom in Ben Sira

243

more praise than a thousand others; when they go to their rest, their fame even in death satisfies them. (Sir 39:1–11)

What can be read here is a description of fact and at the same time a type of advertising pamphlet that should do the most in interesting someone in joining this new model of authority in society. One could say that it is the manifesto of the social and political role of the sages, which is even more important than the indispensable and respected professions. It is also not a matter of lowering those professions involving manual labor, but rather of proof of the quality of the new in comparison to what is meaningful. At the same time it is a model which, next to the chances that are conjured, lays vigorous accent on becoming rooted in the faith that rests upon the tradition of revelation.

Summary The many direct mentions of wise and wisdom and, in addition, the indirect allusions cannot be shown in an encompassing way, but they continuously form the background of the portrayal. So also the previous summary is not simply a resumption of what has been treated already. Rather, one should finally hold to the fact that Sirach is a political (in the positive meaning of the derivation from πόλις) and socio-political teacher of wisdom. Even in extensive travels (cf. 39:4), he sought to assimilate within himself the knowledge of his time, for which reason, next to the relations with the Greek world, he undertook those related in particular to Egyptian and Aramaic wisdom with positive results. Sirach does not cultivate an abstract teaching of wisdom, but rather sees generally in his activity and that of the teacher of wisdom assistance for coming to terms with the pressing problems of his time. Nevertheless, and here he generalizes, he sees himself as a mediator of the wisdom originating from the creator God. He does not exhaust his message in this first phase of application of his teaching for it remains more or less timelessly valid. He strives pedantically for balance, for which reason he places an antithesis to almost every topic in his work. Nevertheless, he is closely connected to God, has great respect for the Lord, and attunes his heart to the Creator and the Creator’s revelation. To turn these into a foundation of a broad education for his reader, he presses his teaching towards a practical transformation in daily living of those who desire to be wise. These are the purpose and goal of Sirach.

VII. Scribes, Sages, and Seers in the Greek and Roman Empires

Michael Kolarcik, S. J.

The Sage Behind the Wisdom of Solomon Introduction The Wisdom of Solomon, also known as the Book of Wisdom, is the latest addition to the Septuagint that unmistakably bears the marks of Sapiential Literature. The Psalms of Solomon, a work which also contains in its title the name of the royal sage, Solomon, conveys a closer resemblance in form to various types of prayer in the Psalter (lament and praise) and in its theme of rebellion to Apocalyptic Literature.1 In itself this is rather significant. The author behind the Book of Wisdom is the last sage to compose a biblical work with the complex set of values and with a didactic style that pertain to the world of biblical wisdom. Although sections of the New Testament contain motifs and short texts related to wisdom, not a single book can be characterized as a sapiential book in such a way as the Wisdom of Solomon. What type of person could have written such a work and for what purpose? What type of social interaction within the Jewish community and other citizens of Alexandria can be presumed to have elicited such a composition? These are questions which betray my interest to understand better the social location of the author and the text. Although much remains unknown to us about the social fabric of Jewish life in Alexandria, there is a growing scholarly consensus that the book was composed in Alexandria during the Roman Period, between 30 B. C. E. when Alexandria and all of Egypt was annexed to the Roman Empire and 41 C. E. when the letter of Claudius puts to rest Jewish aspirations for relief from the dreaded poll tax (laographia) of non-citizens of Alexandria (Egyptians and non-Greeks). 2 1  R. Wright: Psalms of Solomon, in: James H. Charlesworth (ed.), The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha. Vol. II, London 1985, 647. 2  D. Winston: The Wisdom of Solomon, AB 43, Garden City, NY 1979, 20–25; and L. Mazzinghi: Sap 19, 13–17 e i diritti civili dei giudei di Alessandria, in: G. Bellia/A. Passaro (eds.), Il Libro della Sapienza: tradizione, redazione, teologia, Roma 2004, 82–91.

246

Michael Kolarcik, S. J.

To lay down the ground work for responding to the question of the sage’s social location I will proceed in two stages. The first stage will examine the features in the Wisdom of Solomon which correspond to events in the history of the Jewish community of Alexandria in the early Roman Period. This correspondence between the Book of Wisdom and the history of Alexandria provides a basis for understanding the milieu in which the author is working. The Jewish community of Alexandria developed a thriving relationship with the Greeks and adapted significant features of Hellenism in its own social life, the most obvious being the use of the Greek language itself.3 But the Jewish community would remain protective of rights and aggressively critical of the encroachment of Hellenism on the economic, social and cultic life of the Jewish community. The second stage will concentrate on the author’s response to this milieu through sapiential argumentation in all three major sections of the book. The concise argument of the author like a thread woven through the entire book reveals a coherent and subtle thought process. In the end this juxtaposition of the events, which stand behind the book and the author’s unique form of sapiential argumentation, will provide a reasonable basis to assess the author’s position in the Jewish community and the book’s strategy for offering hope to a once thriving Jewish community now under siege.

The Jewish Community of Alexandria in the early Roman Period (30 B. C. E.–41 C. E.). An Acculturated Jewish Community The arrival of Roman authority in Alexandria saw a thriving Jewish community which occupied two of five sections of Alexandria. Philo lists the Jewish population of Egypt as one million (Philo, Flaccus, 43) and even if that is an exaggeration, the Jewish presence in Alexandria remains impressive by all counts. The community had some form of politeuma which means the Jews had the right of organizing their cultic and social life around synagogues.4 Although our three main sources for the history of the Jews in Alexandria (Philo, Strabo and Josephus) do not mention in detail the form and structure of Jewish education in the city, they do 3  For a detailed analysis of the data which helps determine the relationship between Jews and Greeks in the Diaspora in general and in Alexandria specifically, see J. Collins: Between Athens and Jerusalem: Jewish Identity in the Hellenistic Diaspora, Grand Rapids, MI 2000. 4  See J. Collins: Jewish Wisdom in the Hellenistic Age, Louisville, KY 1997, for a discussion of three contentious issues regarding Jewish and Greek relations in Alexandria: the politeuma, citizenship, and the gymnasium, 135–158. The evidence would lead one to understand that the Jews of Alexandria did participate in the ephebate and the gymnasium, but also had their own forms of education related to the synagogue.



The Sage Behind the Wisdom of Solomon

247

describe the social place of synagogues, and archaeological evidence gives ample testimony to numerous synagogues in Alexandria.5 It is likely that the Jewish community had access to the famed museum and library of Alexandria, but probably organized the education of their youth through a combined use of Greek schools and their own synagogues. On several occasions Philo explains how the Sabbath is set aside to philosophize, to study, and to exhort in moral issues. … even to this day, the Jews hold philosophical discussions on the seventh day, disputing about their national philosophy, and devoting that day to the knowledge and consideration of the subjects of natural philosophy; for as for their houses of prayer in the different cities, what are they, but schools of wisdom, and courage, and temperance, and justice, and piety and holiness, and every virtue, by which human and divine things are appreciated, and placed upon a proper footing (De Vita Mos. 2.216).6

Certainly the presence of Jewish names among ephebes also reveals a significant level of interaction with the Greeks. The rhetorical and philosophical abilities of Jews from Aristobulus to Philo of Alexandria testify to the high level of education and social life which the Jews had attained in the Hellenistic polis of Alexandria.7 There are numerous points of contact between the sapiential context of the Wisdom of Solomon and Hellenism in Alexandria. The author of Wisdom has joined together in this poetic work the sapiential love of justice and beauty with the Hellenistic values of order and beauty. The author is clearly sympathetic to many values of Greek culture. Writing in the language of the Greeks and employing styles and ideas common in Greek literature and in their philosophical schools, the author reveals an affinity to achievements of Greek civilization with which the biblical and sapiential tradition shares common ground: the love of beauty and justice, the universal, the order of creation, the appreciation of sound argument, and the didactic task of teaching through reasoned argumentation. The most likely genres which informed the author’s composition of the book in its unity are the encomium and protreptic or epideictic discourse.8 The description of personified Wisdom in the middle section of the book which praises Sophia has numerous points of contact with philosophical currents such as Stoicism and Middle Platonism and even the Hel-

B. Pearson: Alexandria, ABD I (1990), 155. For other references in Philo to the use of the Sabbath for study and exhortation, see De Spec. Leg. 2.62 and De Opif. 128. C. Yonge, trans.: The Works of Philo: Complete and Unabridged, Peabody, Mass. 1993. 7  M. Hengel: Judaism and Hellenism 1, Philadelphia 1974, 100–101. 8  M. Kolarcik: The Book of Wisdom, NIB V, Nashville 1997, 443. 5  6 

248

Michael Kolarcik, S. J.

lenistic version of the cult to Isis.9 The rhetorical technique to convince through reasoned argument rather than to appeal to images of authority is evidenced throughout the Book of Wisdom from beginning to end. However, and this should never be underestimated, these affinities between the Wisdom of Solomon and many features of Greek thought do not reach the point where the author’s faith in the one God becomes blurred or syncretized to Hellenistic polytheism. In fact, even from within the author’s sympathetic adaptation of those features in Hellenism which correspond to Israelite Wisdom, the author remains aggressively critical of those aspects in various currents of Hellenism which contradict Jewish monotheism. There are veiled critiques of customs tied to various associations in Alexandria like that of Antony and Cleopatra’s “Association of Death” (Wis 2:1–24). There is an outright attack against cultic initiations such as ritual killing of infants (Wis 14:13) or the prevalent custom in Alexandria of employing decorative masks of Dionysus, or of the failure of the Greeks with their vast philosophical tradition to reach the position of monotheism.10 The variety of philosophical currents in Hellenistic cities including Alexandria would present ideas regarding justice and virtue very much in harmony with the faith of the sage in the Wisdom of Solomon. The respect for justice and sound argument, which the author champions, would also find considerable echo among philosophical and religious currents in Alexandria. His twin emphasis likewise would oppose the nihilism and moral relativism abounding in Greek cities. The sage’s arguments in all three parts of the book would be appreciated by like-minded Greeks who also valued the universal virtue of justice, sound argument, and aesthetics. The author is not only in dialogue with the Jewish community, but also with those members of the Greek community who share a common respect for justice.11

The Conflict between Jews and Greeks in Alexandria Although the Jewish community of Alexandria had become significantly acculturated and integrated in the city, the inherent religious differences between the Jews and the Greeks would eventually surface in outright conflict. How and why the conflict led to this extreme enmity with such J. Kloppenborg: Isis and Sophia in the Book of Wisdom HThR 75 (1982), 57–84. M.-F. Baslez : L’autore della Sapienza e l’ambiente colto di Alessandria, in: G. Bellia/A. Passaro (eds.), Il Libro della Sapienza: tradizione, redazione, teologia, Roma 2004, 47–66. 11  This point is forcefully made by G. Bellia, who sees the addressees of the sage not only as the Jewish members of the Alexandrian community, but also as like-minded Greeks who were in dialogue with the Jewish community. See Lettura storico-antropologica di Sapienza, in: Il Libro della Sapienza: tradizione, redazione, teologia, 99–130. 9 

10 



The Sage Behind the Wisdom of Solomon

249

drastic consequences is unclear. How pervasive was Greek animosity when clearly the Jewish community shared significant cultural ties with the Greeks? What seems clear is that Roman authority and dominance in Alexandria brought with it a special form of taxation (poll-tax) which was applied to all non-citizens of the city (24 B. C. E.). The Greeks banned the Jews from the gymnasium which was a requirement for citizenship. The ensuing conflict on both sides led to pogrom-like attacks against the synagogues (38 C. E.). Philo led a delegation to Gaius Caligula to seek redress from the Emperor and confirm the rights which had been granted to them by Augustus, but this delegation failed to accomplish its objectives. With the assassination of Caligula the Jews revolted, and the letter of the Emperor Claudius sought to bring about order and peace in Alexandria (41 C. E.). In the letter the Greeks were reprimanded for their hostility, and the Jews were told to be satisfied with their current social position. Although the letter did bring a temporary peace to Alexandria, it also put to rest Jewish aspirations to citizenship and fixed onto them the burden of the poll tax. The ensuing years would see major conflicts erupting in violence in 66 C. E. which concluded essentially in 117 C. E. with the annihilation of the Jewish community in Alexandria under Emperor Trajan. This conflict between the Jews and Greeks in Alexandria can be seen to be reflected in the Wisdom of Solomon in three specific places (Wis 2:1–20, 13–15, 19:13–16). In the section describing the inner reasoning of the wicked (Wis 2), the author considers the dynamic of evil in a group called the ungodly, who begin their project in life with a seemingly innocent desire to enjoy fleeting pleasures, but end with the project to put to a shameful death the one who follows the law and opposes their life plan. The acceleration of opposition against the just one, which moves from innocent pleasures, to exploiting the poor and the aged, to oppressing those who oppose them, to outright killing of the just, displays a similar parallel to the growing tension between the Greeks and Jews which also began with relative peace and ended with outright destruction and violence. In the theological critique of idolatry and false worship (Wis 13–15), the author takes to task forms of idolatry which flourished in Alexandria including the inability of the Greeks to attain belief in the one God. Using the metaphor of artist/artwork, the sage wonders how it is possible that a people so attuned to the artistic features and intricacies of the cosmos were unable to recognize the one artist behind the great artwork of the cosmos (Wis 13:9). Even within this critique, we can recognize the sage’s respect for the philosophical thought of the Greeks. They are to be blamed a little. Nonetheless, the sage holds them responsible for their failure to find the Lord of all these things. The most relevant detail regarding “equal rights,” which corresponds to the tension between Greeks and Jews in Alexandria over citizenship,

250

Michael Kolarcik, S. J.

occurs at the end of the book. In the critique of the Egyptians who had originally accepted Jacob and his family, the sage employs an anachronistic phrase, “those who had already shared the same rights” (Wis 19:16). The phrase has little or no bearing on the situation pertaining to the exodus on which the reference is based. But this was exactly the issue which led Philo and his delegation to appeal to Gaius Caligula for the same rights they had earlier received under Emperor Augustus. The author has woven that particular detail from the contemporary conflict in Alexandria into the critique of the Egyptians who had at first welcomed Jacob and his family to Egypt but then enslaved them. The entire third section of Wisdom is a midrashic treatment of the exodus from Egypt. In sum, the relationship between the Jewish community and Greeks in Alexandria was an ambivalent one. The Jewish community was well acculturated in the city, yet under Roman rule conflicts resurfaced that ultimately issued in the tragic destruction of the Jewish quarters of Alexandria. The Wisdom of Solomon reflects this ambivalent stance. The sage is responding to the crisis of conflict with a sapiential work meant to provide a theological underpinning to the Jewish community under siege. The manner in which the sage argues for justice and life in the three sections of the book identifies the author as a sage of significant theological, philosophical and biblical learning.

Exhortation to Justice/Dissuasion from Death (Wis 1–6) The opening section of the book is enclosed by an exhortation to rulers of the earth (Wis 1:1) and kings (Wis 6:1) that they “love righteousness” and “learn wisdom.” The reason for this imperative call to justice is provided by the following declaration that injustice leads to death (Wis 1:12–16). In fact, the dynamic of the argument in this opening section of the book takes on the quality of a “dissuasion from death.”12 But who exactly is being addressed? Is it only rulers and kings? There is a tension drawn between the project of the wicked and the just ones who are threatened to be subjected to a shameful death. Although the formal address is to rulers and kings, it is clear that the audience in the central part of the dissuasion includes a group of people who are threatened and ostracized. Certainly the civic leaders of Alexandria and even those in far off Rome are formally recognized by the inclusio of rulers and kings, but 12  On the rhetorical argument of the author in this opening section of the book (Wis 1–6), see the summary of the author’s overall argumentation in M. Kolarcik: The Ambiguity of Death in the Book of Wisdom 1–6. A Study of Literary Structure and Interpretation, Analecta Biblica 127, Rome 1991, 111–131.



The Sage Behind the Wisdom of Solomon

251

even more so is the Jewish community of Alexandria addressed in the central diptychs, both those who are firmly entrenched in the tradition of the Torah and those who are perhaps wavering in their allegiance to the synagogue.13 The value which the author considers binding for both Greeks and Jews alike is justice. The author is holding up for consideration the value of justice to both the Greek community with their civic leaders and the Jewish community. Injustice ultimately leads to death, but justice leads to immortality (Wis 1:15). The author is appealing to the threatened and persecuted community of Jews in Alexandria (and perhaps like-minded Greeks) who are in conflict precisely with civic authorities and even with Rome. The author appeals to the value of justice for the Jewish community which may also hold civic leaders accountable through the same value of justice. In the central diptychs (Wis 3–4), the author contrasts the plight of the just who suffer persecution (Wis 3:1–9), who remain poor (3:13–4:6) or even who die young (Wis 4:7) with the apparent strength of those who are unjust. In each case the group that adheres to righteousness is rewarded with the crown of immortality. Through contrast and comparison, the author peels away the façade of strength and power, which injustice portrays only to lay bare its vacuity and emptiness. The persecuted just one, the barren woman, the eunuch and the youth who had clung to justice emerge as the bearers of immortality. The powerful, the wealthy, and even the aged who gained all of their advantages through injustice in the end have no virtue to show. This situation where the poor who are just receive life whereas the powerful who inflict unjust suffering receive punishment is confirmed with an apocalyptic-like final judgment (Wis 5:15–23). God is said to arm the cosmos itself to confront lawlessness.14 The exhortation to love justice and avoid injustice can be readily understood as the author’s appeal to the Jewish community whose members are experiencing financial and social disadvantages in remaining faithful to their religious life in the synagogue. The manner in which the author argues the advantages of justice reveals a firm entrenchment in sapiential 13  There is no need to limit the addressees of this section to either civic authorities or to the Jewish community exclusively. Both groups are implied in the persecution that is addressed in the book. The royal image itself is open to every human being as possessing the capability of making a judgment. Both for the Greeks and for our author every human being participates in the royal prerogatives of judgment. See J. Newman: The Democratization of Kingship in Wisdom of Solomon, in. H. Najman/J. Newman (eds.), Biblical Interpretation: Essays in Honor of James L. Kugel, SJSJ 83, Leiden 2004, 309–328. 14  There is a scriptural source for the author’s organization of themes in dismantling the reasoning of the wicked. The following order of imagery is borrowed from the fourth servant song in Isaiah: speech of the wicked, the suffering servant, the song of hope of the barren woman, eunuchs who keep the Sabbath, a cosmic storm of God’s judgment. See M. Suggs: Wisdom of Solomon II:10–V:23 A Homily Based on the Fourth Servant Song, JBL 76 (1957), 26–33.

252

Michael Kolarcik, S. J.

tradition. On the one hand, the author painstakingly argues for the reader to go beyond appearances of powerlessness to see the advantage of virtue and justice. The author does not appeal to divine authority or to the moral imperative of a covenantal relationship. The sage respects the art of convincing argument. On the other hand, the very forces of the cosmos itself are understood to be wholesome, and in the end these very forces which are aligned with the spirit of God will bring judgment for the just and the unjust alike. For the author, the cosmos itself is the backdrop against which God directs the forces of justice. The forces of the cosmos are wholesome; there is no poison in them (Wis 1:14). In turn, at the time of judgment the cosmos itself will render judgment against lawlessness where the just will receive the royal diadem (Wis 5:15–20) and the wicked will be literally blown away into oblivion by a cosmic storm.15 The effect of the argument of dissuasion from death is to free the reader from being afraid of the apparent weakness, which a life of justice and faithfulness to the law may entail. The Jewish community may suffer disadvantages and even persecution at the hands of powerful cultural forces. But these disadvantages pale in comparison to the strength of virtue which faithfulness to a path of justice brings. In typical sapiential fashion, the sage will not remain content to simply dissuade the community from a life of injustice and from abandoning the following of the law in the synagogue. The advantage of virtue which justice brings is a life filled with the extraordinary gifts of wisdom itself. It is through the wisdom of God that a life of justice with all its rewards can be attained. Wisdom leads to a royal immortality (Wis 6:20). The sage now unleashes the unnamed figure of Solomon to lay bare the many advantages of following the path of justice through wisdom.

In Praise of Wisdom (Wis 7–9) The central section contains the most obviously sapiential feature of the book. Interestingly, this eulogy of wisdom displays the greatest number of contacts with Greek philosophical and cosmological ideas.16 The au15  J. Collins notes how the sapiential tradition in the Wisdom of Solomon has gone further than any other sapiential book in positing an unambiguous afterlife related to a cosmic, final judgment. The sage in the Wisdom of Solomon is offering a form of sapiential teaching which shares significant features with apocalyptic Literature. J. Collins : La reinterpretazione delle tradizioni apocalittiche nella Sapienza di Salomone, in: Il Libro della Sapienza: tradizione, redazione, teologia, 157–171. 16  The informative works for exploring the sources for the Wisdom author’s eulogy of Sophia remain C. Larcher’s early work, Études sur le livre de la Sagesse, Paris 1969, and Winston’s commentary on The Wisdom of Solomon, 1979.



The Sage Behind the Wisdom of Solomon

253

thor reveals considerable familiarity and sympathy with Greek ideas of cosmology. If argument is the key in the opening and concluding sections of the book, the aesthetics of wisdom is dominant in the center. Wisdom is praised in all its splendor. However, it is important to note the function of this central section of the book in light of the argument that precedes it (Wis 1–6). In the first part, the author dissuades readers from thinking that disadvantages and even persecution in the social sphere of life are a reason for adopting a position of moral relativism or worse a life based on the pursuit of power and wealth through injustice. The author champions the virtue of justice as bringing lasting value even in situations where appearances of weakness and poverty seem to have the upper hand. Similarly the author peels away the façade of strength which injustice constructs around the wealthy and advantaged people in society. The virtue of justice is crucial in the author’s argument. And virtue is practiced with the help of wisdom. The eulogy of wisdom is meant to be a positive and even playful exhortation for the pursuit of virtue. The figure of the unnamed Solomon seeking the wisdom that comes from God is the author’s adaptation of Solomon’s dream in 1 Kgs 3:1–15 and of the nocturnal visit of the Lord in 2 Chr 1. At the end of Solomon’s eulogy (Wis 7–8) stands his uninhibited prayer for God to send forth the wisdom that sits by the throne (Wis 9). The relationship between wisdom and God, the cosmos and humans is developed from the personification of wisdom in Prov 8 and Sir 24. Although the texts which provide the substance for the theme of wisdom and its salutary effect on human life are scriptural, the details for describing the relationship between wisdom and the cosmos are often borrowed from the various philosophical schools of the Greeks. The range of knowledge which wisdom is said to master includes familiar categories of Aristotelian science: chronology, astronomy, zoology, botany and pharmacology (Wis 7:17–20). The twenty-one qualities of wisdom (Wis 7:2–23) are borrowed from Greek thought, especially that of the Stoics. The sage uses the same verbs “pervade” and “permeate” for wisdom’s activity as the Stoics had used to show how the spirit is active in everything. The author claims for wisdom the four virtues (self-control, prudence, justice and courage, Wis 8:7) which were much discussed in Greek philosophy ever since Plato classified the virtues into four categories (Plato, Republic 443D–E, 444D). The overall effect of the lengthy eulogy of wisdom is an appreciation of wisdom’s decisive role in the cosmos. God has created the world and humans through wisdom and therefore it is through wisdom that humans lead full lives of blessing and abundance. Wisdom is the one who makes humans friends of God (Wis 7:14, 27). In this central section of the book the author

254

Michael Kolarcik, S. J.

is persuading readers to a love of wisdom. It is wisdom, the source of virtue, who empowers them to a life of justice and abundance. Beginning with Adam and ending with Moses, the author interprets the beneficial effect of wisdom on key personages in the book of Genesis (Wis 10). Wisdom is described as the one who has accompanied the righteous through history to lead them to a life of blessing in times of trial and difficulty.

The Midrashic Treatment of the Exodus The final section of Wisdom moves almost imperceptibly from the eulogy of Sophia to the manner in which God saved the righteous in their escape from Egypt. Wisdom is no longer mentioned. Instead, God is the immediate protagonist who uses the forces and elements of the cosmos to bring help to the righteous and to thwart the designs of the ungodly. Since wisdom was described as pervading and permeating the cosmos, perhaps this absence is mitigated by the manner in which the forces of creation are described as operating in the plague episodes. God employs the elements of creation to thwart the unjust and the same elements of creation become the means for the survival of the righteous (Wis 11:5). This is the unique insight of the sage for interpreting the story of the plagues.17 The issue of conflict between the righteous and ungodly in the struggle for freedom from Egypt recalls the conflict between the wicked and the just in the diptychs from the first part of the book. In fact the relationship between the first and last sections of the book goes beyond mere similarity in parallel themes. More significant is the relationship between the two sections in terms of the coherence of the argument in the entire book. The exhortation to justice devolved into a dissuasion from death. As initial proof of the benefit of justice, where the just receive immortal life and the wicked receive death, the author posited the lofty scene of a future divine judgment (Wis 5). The second part of the book presents the author’s persuasion to a life of justice through the eulogy of wisdom and its positive effects on human beings and the cosmos. The third section of the book is the sage’s final attempt to convince the reader of the value of justice by looking back into history. The history of the Exodus from Egypt as recounted in the Torah and retold by the sage is an example from history and human experience that God’s judgment against injustice and in favor of the righteous is valid. The final section of the book postulates that divine judgment is not only a future eschatological reality, but is currently taking place against wickedness and in favor of justice. Proof for this judgment is 17  For a review of the sage’s presentation of the plague narratives in five diptychs and seven antitheses, see the diagram in Kolarcik: The Book of Wisdom, 446.



The Sage Behind the Wisdom of Solomon

255

mobilized through a reflection on the most revered story of liberation in the Jewish community – the liberation from slavery in Egypt. The author maintains a sapiential perspective in the midrashic treatment of the exodus by postulating the auspicious role of the cosmos in human events. Through the direction of God, who remains the protagonist, the forces of the cosmos come to the aid of the righteous, but thwart the designs of the wicked. This particular application of the beneficial role of the cosmos picks up the author’s judgment regarding the wholesomeness of the cosmos in the first part of the book, and the beneficial function of the cosmos through wisdom’s permeation of creation in the second part of the book. The universality of justice is applicable to all, regardless of one’s association with a particular group. The author recalls the disobedience of the Israelites in their flight from Egypt and recognizes that the hand of justice struck them as well (Wis 16:5, 18:20).18 The author does not avoid the meting out of justice to the Israelites when they rebelled in the desert and encountered the plague of serpents (Num 21:6–9) or when they met with the plague after the levitical rebellion of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram (Num 16:1–50). The sage does not undermine the universal application of justice even when it may apply to the Jewish community as well. The sage’s argument, woven throughout the course of the entire book, is unwavering in presenting the beneficial results of justice. Wisdom enables people to be just. The forces of the cosmos, having been penetrated by the wisdom that comes from God, continuously come to the aid of the just and thwart the plan of the wicked. Although appearances may be to the contrary, as they were especially in the first part of the book for the just who suffered, and as they may be experienced by the Jewish community under Roman rule, those who hold fast may rest assured that justice prevails in the long run. This is the argument which the sage has woven together with considerable dexterity, combining scripture tradition with contemporary philosophical ideas. Although different movements were current at the time of the author’s writing, such as messianic expectation and apocalyptic perspectives, the author drew inspiration for this exhortation to justice primarily from within the sapiential tradition.

18  The author maintains a sapiential, universalist stance in the examination of conflict in the exodus narrative precisely through the universal application of justice to both the Egyptians and the Israelites. God is not understood here as simply favoring an elected people. God directs the cosmos to help the righteous and thwart the wicked. See M. Kolarcik: Universalism and Justice in the Wisdom of Solomon, in: N. Calduch-Benages/J. Vermeylen (eds.), Treasures of Wisdom. Festschrift Maurice Gilbert, Leuven 1999, 289–301.

256

Michael Kolarcik, S. J.

The Sage behind the Wisdom of Solomon Final questions remain to be posited: what type of person could have formulated such a complex work? What type of interaction with the Jewish community and civic leaders can be presumed? A number of preliminary observations may be drawn from the historical circumstances evidenced in the book and the particular form of sapiential argumentation employed in all three parts of Wisdom. The sage has composed a poetic work for a Jewish community which is familiar with the Greek milieu in which it has been interacting for some time. Not only is this community familiar with the Greek world, but it is also sympathetic to many of the achievements of Greek culture especially those in harmony with the Torah. We know that the Jewish community in Alexandria was engaged in debate with Hellenistic culture and philosophical movements primarily through the works of Philo. Much of Philo’s work was directed to Greeks and Jews alike to show how they share ideas common to their traditions.

The Identity of the Sage However, the sage behind the Book of Wisdom is also presuming a certain authority of Scriptural tradition in appealing to the books of Genesis, Exodus, Numbers, Isaiah, Kings, Proverbs, Sirach, and the Psalter. In all three sections of the Book, scriptural passages ground the author’s argumentation even when parallel Greek ideas are employed or opposed. This is an important observation, because it means the sage is presuming scriptural references will have a certain weight in the sapiential argumentation for the Jewish community being addressed. The exhortatory perspective of the work which builds an argument through sapiential themes would suggest that the author is foremost a teacher who has considerable empathy for the challenges the Jewish community was facing in Alexandria. Although the arguments often appeal to issues normally important for young adults (integrity in major decisions in life, Wis 1–6; courting wisdom as a bride, Wis 7–9; the playful and witty adaptation of the plague narratives to the plight of the righteous), a group exercising leadership within the community is also being addressed. The social location in Alexandria most likely suitable for such activities of exhortation and sapiential argumentation is the synagogue. The author is presuming familiarity of both Scripture and Greek philosophical ideas in the audience. Although we cannot be sure what the process of education for Jewish youth was in Alexandria, it is clear that the synagogues would have, at the least, been centers for promoting a study of the Torah, and at



The Sage Behind the Wisdom of Solomon

257

the most, centers for complete education in the absence of Jewish access to the gymnasium in the Roman period. The author was most likely a close associate of Philo. Many ideas and expressions in the Wisdom of Solomon find parallel ideas in Philo. Neither mentions the other explicitly, but this could very well be the case if in fact the two were contemporaries, or the same person. Since Philo led the delegation to Gaius Caligula, he was intimately involved in seeking redress for the injustices experienced by the Jewish community. Would it be plausible to consider Philo the author of the book? The poetic style of writing by the sage is quite distinct from that of Philo. Is it possible that through this wisdom text Philo attempted to write a poetic work instead of writing his more usual discursive and analytical texts? Both Philo and the sage speak of the wisdom of God and the logos. But where Philo places much more emphasis on the philosophical implications of God working in the cosmos through the logos, the sage places much more emphasis on personified wisdom as the image through which to understand God’s direction of the cosmos. Similarly both Philo and the sage expound on scriptural passages, often with a similar midrashic style of interpretation. But whereas Philo prefers to expound on Scriptural passages through allegorical interpretation, the sage prefers a literal style of interpretation. This is the most distinctive difference between Philo and the sage behind the Wisdom of Solomon. As a teacher or a rabbi in a synagogue in Alexandria, the sage would have a distinct role to play in guiding youth and the leading members of the synagogue alike. What the sage distinctively brought to this dialogue was the sapiential perspective of scripture. Other stances or currents of thought would have been possible to bring to the text, such as apocalyptic perspectives or messianic expectations. The Wisdom author remains firmly entrenched in a sapiential tradition, even though it has been adapted with apocalyptic and philosophical perspectives. With considerable dexterity, the book argues for the community to discern between a path of life imbued with the value of justice and that of injustice. Even in the face of opposition from some and maybe even many in the Greek community, the Wisdom author does not lose an appreciation for the common values in both Hellenism and Judaism.

Andreas Bedenbender

Seers as Mantic Sages in Jewish Apocalyptic (Daniel and Enoch) Introduction The following considerations confine themselves to the pre-history of Jewish apocalypticism: What do we know (or, to put it with more caution, what can we reasonably suppose) about the intellectual milieu from which the apocalyptic texts arose? When Jewish apocalypticism in the strict sense came into being during the persecution of Antiochus IV Epiphanies and in its aftermath, it took shape in two distinct sets of texts. One set was attributed to Enoch, the pre-sage and seer, while the other was ascribed to Daniel, a wise Jew who allegedly had spent his adult days in the Babylonian exile. In both cases, the new texts – the “Animal Apocalypse” (AA),1 the “Apocalypse of Weeks” (AW) 2 and 7–12 of the Book of Daniel respectively – stand, to some degree, in continuity with older literature attributed to the same wise hero. In the case of Daniel, this is, of course, Dan 1–6.3 The pre-Maccabean lore of Enoch, going back to the 3rd or even the 4th century B. C. E., occupies – in a slightly reworked form that includes several editorial additions – two parts of the “Ethiopic Book of Enoch:” the Astronomical Book (AB; 1 En 72–82) 4 and the “Book of Watchers” (BW; 1 En 1–36)5. AB offers revelations which Enoch, the narrator, claims to have received from the angel Uriel: information about different aspects of celestial topography combined with the propagation of a solar calendar consisting of exactly 364 days.6 BW deals in its first main part (ch. 6–16) with the story of “watchers,” a 1 En 85–90. 1 En 91:1–17, 93:1–10. 3  For the development of this collection, see J. J. Collins: The Apocalyptic Imagination: An Introduction to Jewish Apocalyptic Literature, Grand Rapids 21998, 38. 4  For the date of AB as a literary composition, see A. Bedenbender: Der Gott der Welt tritt auf den Sinai. Entstehung, Entwicklung und Funktionsweise der frühjüdischen Apokalyptik, Arbeiten zur neutestamentlichen Theologie und Zeitgeschichte 8, Berlin 2000, 153 f. 5  For the later changes, see below, p. 269 f. 6  A different content is to be found 80:2–81:10. Suddenly, the text is interested in eschatological and ethical questions. But it appears these verses are later (post-Maccabean) additions. See Bedenbender: Gott, 152 f, 155 f, 230–237. 1  2 



Seers as Mantic Sages in Jewish Apocalyptic

259

special group of angels who, in the days prior to the flood, instigated a rebellion against God. By begetting children (“giants”) with human women and teaching evil knowledge (of different types) to humanity, they caused bloodshed and chaos on earth. But in the end, they received their due punishment. (A much shorter version of the story may be found in Gen 6:1–4). In the second part (ch. 17–36), Enoch reports what he saw when he travelled, thanks to heavenly arrangement, through the whole cosmos, from the netherworld up to the stars. Daniel 1–6 collects stories about Daniel and several other Jews who had been deported from Jerusalem to the court of Babylon (ch. 1). Because they refused to give up the principles of their faith, they came into mortal danger, but they survived miraculously (3: the friends of Daniel in the fiery furnace; 6: Daniel in the lion’s den.) The rest of Dan 1–6 is interested in the perspective of the gentile empire sub specie aeternitatis. (2: Nebuchadnezzar’s dreams of the four kingdoms; 4: Nebuchadnezzar is punished for his hubris with madness; and 5: Belshazzar defiles the sacred vessels of the temple, and in consequence he loses his reign to the Medes and Persians.) Comparing the texts attributed to Enoch and Daniel in post-Maccabean times with their pre-Maccabean predecessors points to characteristic differences. Suddenly, the old heroes become spokesmen of new specifically apocalyptic ideas. The new ideas, of course, are the result of highly peculiar political circumstances of that period. But why were Enoch and Daniel chosen as champions of the apocalyptic cause at all, why not any other sage? In all likelihood, there must have been a certain social and/or personal continuity on the side of the tradents. The persons who produced the new texts had already been used to reflect in their typically way under the guidance of the mentioned protector. But what do we learn from the pre-Maccabean writings about the intellectual roots of Jewish apocalypticism? Since the compositions were never intended to provide historical information about their authors, the evidence can only be indirect. This means modern interpretation must avoid the danger of reaching conclusions that are considered to be unquestionably definitive. The texts are not obliged to give sufficiently detailed answers to all the questions we may pose. To begin with, it is by no means clear to what degree (or whether at all) the report of a vision, or a heavenly journey, is the literary reflection of a real event. It may not be taken for granted that the author of the passage in question ever experienced a similar revelation to the one described. Of course, if “Daniel” portrays in ch. 10 a vision he received after having observed special rites of mourning (including dietary regulations) for “three full weeks” (v. 2), this might mirror a practical knowledge about the efficacy provided by this type of preparation. But perhaps the author is simply following a proscribed literary convention in order to make more credible

260

Andreas Bedenbender

the revelation that follows. This is clearly a possibility for texts which have been written after the major features of the genre of apocalyptic literature had been established. With respect to Dan 10, we simply do not know if the author is borrowing from still older – and now lost – writings. And in any case it should be noted that the behavior of Daniel at the beginning of the chapter is not very specific. To abstain from food (completely or partly) as a sign of mourning is a practice well attested in Judaism from early periods onwards. In Dan 9:3, the fasting of the hero, together with supplication “in sackcloth and ashes,” does not appear in a mantic context – it serves as a preparation for a long prayer. So, 10:2 f is perhaps only intended to express the conviction: “Nur in der Haltung der Busse, der Selbstminderung, der Enthaltsamkeit wird dem Menschen höhere Einsicht zugänglich.”7 If the texts of Jewish apocalypticism, in fact, should not be authentic, historical descriptions of real visions, this does not mean that the authors were confidence men or swindlers. As J. J. Collins puts it: “The composition of highly symbolic literature involves a vivid use of the imagination, which may be difficult to distinguish from visionary experience in any case.”8 As a consequence, I simply wish to emphasize the importance of the hermeneutical gap between the texts and the psychic disposition (or the social life) of their authors. For further considerations, it seems appropriate – given the huge difference between the texts of Daniel and Enoch – to deal first with one corpus, and then with the other.

Daniel The Figure of Daniel: a Mantic Sage? In Dan 2 Daniel is able to narrate a dream of Nebuchadnezzar, the content of which had been kept secret by the monarch. Since all the other sages of the Babylonian court had been confronted previously with the same task and had failed to solve the riddle, Daniel thus can display his superiority to his gentile colleagues. A similar picture we find in chap. 4: first the king’s wise men fail to interpret a dream of Nebuchadnezzar, then Daniel succeeds. In chap. 5, Daniel wins for a third time a contest with his pagan counterparts, now before Belshazzar: He is the only one who can read, and translate, the famous “writing on the wall.” Obviously, in the eyes of the court, he is a greater sage than anybody else, but not a sage of a different kind. When in 4:6, the king addresses him as “chief magician” (rav hartūmayya’), he understands 7  K. Koch: Die Bedeutung der Apokalyptik für die Interpretation der Schrift, in: M. Klopfenstein et al. (eds.), Mitte der Schrift? Ein jüdisch-christliches Gespräch. Texte des Berner Symposiums vom 6.–12. Januar 1985, Judaica et Christiana 11, Bern 1987, 185–215, 193. 8  Collins: Imagination, 40.



Seers as Mantic Sages in Jewish Apocalyptic

261

him clearly as a mantic sage. But the pressing question is, “Is Daniel also understood as a mantic sage by the text?” For some three decades, many scholars have viewed Daniel as being portrayed as a kind of mantic – a notion which consequently leads to the idea that mantic wisdom is one important root of Jewish apocalypticism9. But strangely enough, the closer one looks at the understanding of mantic wisdom which was typical for the ancient Near East, the more distant it gets from the figure of Daniel. First of all, a mantic sage was a kind of craftsman. In order to fulfil his duties and to solve the problems he encountered, he had to undergo a special training, very much as a weaver or a scribe had to do. Additionally required was the knowledge of certain rituals.10 This does not mean that everybody could be taught to be a reliable mantic sage; but a specific talent is needed for other craftsmen, too. The main point is: As it is impossible for a person to be a good goldsmith just by native genius, without having ever received some related teaching, so it is, according to the standards of the ancient Near East, for a mantic sage. Mantic sages were taught how to interpret dreams of other persons (as well as dreams of their own) by using written collections of dream symbols. But here their competence already ended. There was no method for mantic sages to find out the content of a hidden (or forgotten) dream. Consequently, the mantic sages in Dan 2 are baffled, nay outraged, at the task which confronts them: “There is no one on earth who can satisfy the king’s demand, for great king or ruler – none has ever asked such a thing of a magician, exorcist, or Chaldean (2:10).” And Daniel can succeed, not because of any additional secret knowledge he has acquired, but because he receives a special revelation of the God of Israel, just like other biblical prophets.11 This is not like anything that customarily happened to mantic sages. With respect to ch. 5, the argument runs in a similar way: since there was no mantic technique to read texts written in unknown alphabets what was required was a revelation of a non-mantic kind. 9  Still very influential in that respect is a contribution of H.-P. Müller: Mantische Weisheit und Apokalyptik, in: G. W. Anderson, et al. (eds.), Congress Volume: Uppsala 1971 (VTS 22), Leiden 1972, 268–293. 10  See A. Oppenheim: The Interpretation of Dreams in the Ancient Near East, TAPhS 46 (1956), 179–373, 222; idem, Mantic Dreams in the Ancient Near East, The Dream and Human Societies, in: G. E. von Grünebaum and R. Caillois (eds.), Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1966; and G. Contenau: La divination chez les Assyriens et les Babylonians, Paris 1940, 6–67. 11  See Dan 2:19; see also 2:27–28a. The same is the case with Joseph, the other biblical interpreter of royal dreams. Joseph says nothing about his own ability to interpret dreams. Questioned by the Pharaoh, he denies he has this ability (see Gen 41:15 f), and he has made his point of view clear enough even before this text: “Surely God can interpret” (40:8).

262

Andreas Bedenbender

Thus Dan 2, 4, and 5 fail to prove how much Jewish apocalyptic is indebted to Babylon’s mantic wisdom. The mantic sages appear only to testify to the limitations of their art – and to the superiority of prophecy inspired by the God of Israel. The first half of Daniel takes exactly the same stance against mantic wisdom as does the following passage from the book of Isaiah: (It is I, the Lord), who annuls the omens of diviners, and makes fool of the augurs; who turns sages back and makes nonsense of their knowledge; but confirms the word of my servant and fulfils the prediction of my messengers (44:25–26a).

Obviously, this is not seen at the royal court; for the king, Daniel was the “chief magician” (as it has been quoted already), in whom “the spirit of the holy gods is dwelling” (4:6; see also 5:11 f), that is, somebody who could solve the problem because of his permanent abilities.12 But at least in the phrase “the holy gods” the king (or in ch. 5, the queen) expresses a profound lack of understanding. Under no circumstances, can this be the message the text seeks to promulgate. And given the considerations made previously, it seems best (i. e., most fitting to the overall message of the text), to take the whole laudatio put into the mouth of the king as a form of irony. As the wisdom of his augurs etc., so his own wisdom has been turned by God into foolishness. His interpretatio Babylonica of the Jewish seer, mistaking a prophet as a mantic sage, proves that the peculiar way in which God speaks to the people of Israel is beyond his rational capacity. The tendency of the text to mock Nebuchadnezzar, the godlike king, is visible also in the basic constellation of ch. 2 and 4: the king sees himself confronted by a heavenly dream-revelation of the utmost importance, which he is unable to understand, and in his desperation he humbles himself so far as to ask professional interpreters of dreams for help. According to the ideology of kingship in the ancient Near East, a story plot like that was completely absurd. If the gods decided to send a revelation to their chosen tool, the priest king, while he was asleep, they always communicated their intentions in dreams with a completely transparent message, that is, in such cases they never used symbolic dreams which required interpretation.13 Very illuminating is a comparison made by A. Oppenheim: 12  According to Dan 1:17, 20, Daniel may indeed surpass the sages of Babylon, inter alia, in the art of interpretation of dreams. But from the point of story development, we find here the fact that Daniel is involved at all in the course of events in ch. 2, 5. See 2:13: Daniel and his companions are integrated into the circle of those who have disappointed the king and likewise are condemned to death. 13  See E. R. Dodds: Paranormale Phänomene in der klassischen Antike, in: E. R. Dodds (ed.), Der Forschrittsgedanke in der Antike und andere Aufsätze zu Literatur und Glauben der Griechen, Zürich/München 1977, 188–239, 266–289; and Oppenheim: Interpretation.



Seers as Mantic Sages in Jewish Apocalyptic

263

The Bible, that is, the Old Testament, offers an illuminating contrast to all other civilizations of the ancient Near East by actually favoring reports of ‘symbolic’ dreams in historical settings. Yet a specific restriction can be observed: all these ‘symbolic’ dreams are experienced by ‘gentiles’; to his own people the Lord speaks in ‘message’-dreams and not in ‘dark speeches’ (Num 12:8). Here is expressed a discrimination in the evaluation of these two types of dreams which might be the reason for the distribution of ‘message’ and ‘symbolic’ dreams just observed in Egyptian and Mesopotamian royal inscriptions. It is possible that these documents clearly prefer ‘message’ dreams because the sacerdotal character of Near Eastern kingship … admits only of dream-communication with the deity which are, in terms of theology, of the rank of epiphanies.14

With respect to Egypt, Oppenheim’s position is supported by an observation of C. J. Gadd: It is also known that there was in Egypt a kind of academy, called the ‘House of Life’, which had, among others, the important function of interpreting dreams. Particularly, no doubt, these were royal dreams, though it is a singular fact that no recorded dream of the Pharaohs is of the kind which requires explanation.15

So far, this brief study has reached a clear result: it is completely inappropriate, according to the context of the text and according to all we know about the mantic wisdom of the ancient Near East, to see Daniel (or Joseph for that matter) as a mantic sage. Daniel neither acts like mantic sages act, nor does he in the stories narrated in the Bible deal with problems that confronted mantic sages. The roots of the apocalypticism of Daniel are to be sought in biblical prophecy.16 The Intention of Dan 1–6: A “Lifestyle for Diaspora,”17 Combined with a reservatio mentalis. There is a slight possibility that Dan 1–6 originated in Israel (where it later, in any case, was combined with the following chapters). But nevertheless, the composition of the single tales as well as their collection probably took place in Babylon.18 As it appears, the stories “reflect the aspirations rather than the actual situation of the authors, but the problems envisaged are largely those that confronted Jews in the service of the empire, and it is reasonable to suppose that they were relevant to the tradents’ position in life”.19

Oppenheim: Interpretation, 209 f. C. Gadd: Ideas of Divine Rule in the Ancient Near East, London 1945, 73; my italics. 16  See P. von der Osten-Sacken: Die Apokalyptik in ihrem Verhältnis zu Prophetie und Weisheit, TEh 157, München 1969. 17  The expression has been taken from an article of W. Humphreys: A Lifestyle for Diaspora: A Study of the Tales of Esther and Daniel, in: JBL 92 (1973), 21–23. 18  See J. Collins: Daniel (Hermeneia), Minneapolis 1993, 48 f; differently J. Lebram: Zwei Danielprobleme, in: BO 39 (1982), 514. 19  Collins: Daniel, 48. 14 

15 

264

Andreas Bedenbender

Taken as a whole, Dan 1–6 seeks to establish the means and limitations of Jewish existence in a Gentile empire. One may make on the one hand the following determination. “The political stance of the tales is one of loyalty and optimism. […] Even the four-kingdom prophecy in ch.  2, which looks forward to the end of Gentile rule, does so with no great urgency. […] The sovereignty of the Most High God is compatible with gentile rule for the present. There is no call for revolution to bring about the kingdom of God; nor does the question ‘How long?’ occur in these chapters.”20

The political system, embodied by the king, must be accepted; only God may cause a change. 21 And the possibility to ascend the ladder within the system is welcomed. On the other hand, the positive attitude towards the empire is confronted by the experience of deadly threats. The danger of the empire is not due to the capriciousness of the foreign ruler (see 6:16: The king is bound by “the Law of the Medes and Persians”). A comparison between Dan 3 and Dan 6 leads to the impression that persecutions may arise with or without the consent of the king. It does not matter if he is benevolent like Darius (Dan 6) or malevolent like Nebuchadnezzar (Dan 3). The dominating force is the royal court, which is guided by envy. 22 While in similar sapiential stories about court intrigues written by non-Jews, the accusations are typically unjustified (and can, therefore, be refuted in the end), in the book of Daniel the Jews are correctly found guilty of being observant of the Torah. 23 Thus, there is a basic conflict, which no happy ending may really solve. The danger of a new crisis of life and death remains a permanent fixture. This constellation allows one to recognize even within the stories about the success of Daniel and his friends a certain irony. The literary cliché of the rise of a gifted man at the royal court is not simply reproduced by the story-teller. Rather the text plays with the convention. There is no successive career of Daniel under different kings (as it could be expected for so gifted and blessed a man), it is a rather terrible ascending and descending array of experiences in which elevations to the summit of power are checked by mortal dangers. The higher the position of Daniel becomes, the more reason he has to fear (see 6:4 f). As soon as he has won the “eternal” favor of one king, another comes quickly to the throne. Honored Collins: Daniel, 51. See Boccaccini: Judaism, 143. 22  See 3:8 and most of all 6:4–6; G. Boccaccini: Middle Judaism. 300 B. C. E. to 200 C. E., Minneapolis 1991, 143. 23  See also G. Nickelsburg: Resurrection, Immortality, and Eternal Life in Intertestamental Judaism, Cambridge/London 1972, 55. 20  21 



Seers as Mantic Sages in Jewish Apocalyptic

265

by Nebuchadnezzar to the utmost degree, under Nebuchadnezzar’s son, Belshazzar, he is completely forgotten (see 5:11). And in the very night when he was installed as one of Belshazzar’s vice-rulers, the king was killed, and Darius assumed the reins of kingship (see 5:2–6:1). To sum up: Dan 1–6 combines a plea for accepting the social possibilities offered by the gentile world (even if this meant a partial assimilation with respect to appearance) with a strong mental reservation against the foreign rule over Israel. 24 The text is surely the product of intellectuals, but it propagates a concept which applies to all Jews, intellectuals or not, who live under pagan rule and in a pagan environment – in Ptolemaic Egypt no less than in Seleucid Babylon. Even in Jerusalem, as long as the city is part of a gentile empire, the message is of some relevance. And, since the sophisticated reflections which control the collection are wrapped up in extremely well narrated stories, there is no reason to doubt the popularity of Dan 1–6 in quite different layers of Jewish society from the very beginning of the episodes’ composition and narration. Because of this, it is hardly possible to find out more about the social place of the collectors and their original audience.

Enoch Enoch and Mantic Wisdom. It is unquestionably true that the Enochic traditions demonstrate a certain influence of Babylonian lore. Of special importance is the legendary figure of Enmeduranki, a primeval sage and king. Enmeduranki was counted, at least in some traditions, as the seventh of the antediluvian rulers, holding thus the same position as Enoch in the Jewish sequence of patriarchs. 25 Since Enmeduranki was known also as the founder of a guild of diviners, the barû, it is not far-fetched to look for a more specific correlation between the mantic wisdom of the barû and the wisdom attributed to Enoch. James VanderKam has attempted to show such a connection. But in spite of all his efforts, his results leave some doubts. The barû priests were known to practice haruspices, 26 arts not associated with Enoch. And VanderKam’s analysis of the mantic techniques used in Babylon (especially concerning dream interpretation) hardly show any overlap with the typical features of the early Enochic writings – or 24  See also J. Collins: The Court-Tales in Daniel and the Development of Apocalyptic, JBL 94 (1975), 229. 25  See J. VanderKam: Enoch: A Man for All Generations, Columbia 1995, 7. 26  See J. VanderKam: Enoch and the Growth of an Apocalyptic Tradition (CBQMS 16), Washington 1984, 61 f. VanderKam supposes that the barû had competence also in astrology and dream divination (which would come closer to the Enochic texts) but has to concede: “though there is no proof for it,” 61.

266

Andreas Bedenbender

with later Jewish apocalypticism at all. The most striking point is stressed by VanderKam himself: “Authors of Jewish apocalyptic texts did not write omen collections. There is simply no counterpart to such mantic literature either in the Bible or in the post-biblical Jewish literature.”27 Seemingly, the attempt to come any closer to Enoch via mantic wisdom is as impossible as it is in the case of Daniel. A “House of Enoch”? A step in another direction has been made by E. Rau. His point of departure is the remarkable popularity of the ancient hero in quite different traditions. In addition to the five books later combined in the Ethiopic Book of Enoch, we have Ben Sira, Pseudo-Eupo­ lemos, and the Book of Jubilees. Also in Genesis, Enoch is mentioned with considerable veneration. 28 The reasons for the respect shown to him vary. Sometimes Enoch is depicted as a sage, an astronomer or astrologist, sometimes as the hero of the primeval catastrophe, as an expert of cosmic geography, as a visionary and apocalypticist, or as a model of piety. 29 Rau explains this diversity by postulating a “Haus Henoch,” i. e. a group of “weisheitlichen Schriftgelehrten, die sich die Tradierung und Bewahrung der Prophetie zur Aufgabe gemacht haben.”30 However, instead of limiting the results to its own circle, the “Haus Henoch” also taught outsiders. It operated as a kind of educational center.31 The possibility for such an explanation has to be admitted, but there are alternatives which should be taken into account likewise. Given a) the Babylonian roots of the traditions attributed to Enoch and b) the existence of a large Jewish diaspora in Babylon from the 6th century B. C. E. onwards with strong and manifold ties to the motherland, it seems quite plausible that different Jewish groups in Israel at different times came into contact with a bundle of traditions labelled commonly as “Enochic.” In the conclusion of Jewish primeval history, there were not many other heroes who could have taken over the burden of so many important tasks and revelations. In other words, within the realm of esoteric knowledge, Enoch could go in so many directions perhaps due to the long lasting and significant interchange between Babylon and Jewish culture and not to the influence of a hypothetical “Haus Henoch.” Consequently, it is by no means certain that two works as different as AB and BW have emanated from the same circle at all. It might be that they have been combined literarily very late, say in the beginning of the 2nd century B. C. E. VanderKam: Growth, 62. According to Gen 5:22, 24, Enoch “walked with God”; something that in later times was the privilege of Noah and Abraham (see Gen 6:9 and – with slightly different wording – 17:1). 29  See H. Kvanvig: Roots of Apocalyptic, Neukirchen-Vluyn 1988, 147–158. 30  E. Rau: Kosmologie, Eschatologie und die Lehrautorität Henochs, Hamburg 1974, 453. 31  See Rau: Kosmologie, 481–483. 27 

28 



Seers as Mantic Sages in Jewish Apocalyptic

267

Enoch and the Temple. An interesting reading of BW has been proposed by D. W. Suter in 1979, based on the observation that the angels of the text are attributed a priestly function. Therefore, the criticism directed against the “watchers” – pollution by unfit marriages and bloodshed – can be read as a veiled attack against the temple establishment in Jerusalem during the Hellenistic era.32 To a remarkable degree, the critique of the Temple shows traces of ideological proximity to its own object. Mount Zion appears in BW as a “holy mountain” and Jerusalem as “the center of the earth” (1 En 26:1 f). Probably, BW should be read as a result of an internal fight for supremacy within the temple which took place in post-exilic times. 33 In the end, it was won by a group of priests who understood themselves as the “sons of Zadok,” while the priests of old, the “sons of Levi,” lost the fight. But the victory of the Zadokites was not complete. They had to grant some privileges to the Levites, and some more to a special Levitical group which they needed as a junior partner in a coalition of power: the “sons of Aaron.” While a substantial part of the Levites accepted the new situation, some refused.34 So the priestly elite of Jerusalem legitimated their triumph by inserting the story of Korah into the Torah (see Num 16), presenting the Levitical rebellion against Aaron and his sons as a rebellion against God himself. Their enemies, on the other hand, no longer able to control the transmission of Mosaic Torah, their former literary stronghold had that they had the responsibility of shaping, was regrouped literarily in BW. It remains unclear (even if this sketchy hypothesis is at least basically accepted) whether the ideological retreat from the Bible, combined with a criticism of the Temple, meant also a bodily retreat from Jerusalem. Alternatively, BW could mirror the position of “an opposition party within the Jerusalem aristocracy, not (of) a group of separatists.”35 But while the 32  See D. Suter: Fallen Angel, Fallen Priest: The Problem of Family Purity in 1 Enoch, HUCA 50 (1979), 115–135. Thus he agrees with J. Collins: The Place of Apocalypticism in the Religion of Israel, in: P. Miller, Jr./P.Hanson/S. McBride (eds.), Ancient Israelite Religion: Essays in Honor of Frank Moore Cross, Philadelphia 1987, 546. For the equation of heavenly and earthly sanctuary in Jewish texts, see Suter: Fallen Angel, Fallen Priest, 123. 33  For the following, see G. Boccaccini: Roots of Rabbinic Judaism: An Intellectual History, from Ezekiel to Daniel, Grand Rapids 2002, 61–72. 34  See, e. g., “Aramaic Levi” – a document which expresses an anti-Zadokite stance by endorsing “a pre-Zadokite ideal priesthood” (G. Boccaccini: Beyond the Essene Hypothesis: The Parting of the Ways between Qumran and Enochic Judaism, Grand Rapids, MI 1998, 74). 35  Boccaccini: Roots, 102. See also G. Nickelsburg: A Commentary on the Books of 1 Enoch, ch. 1–36, Minneapolis 2001, 8–88 (67). M. Himmelfarb stresses that “(s)ome of the Watchers remain in heaven at their stations even as their brothers descend to earth. […] If Watchers are here to be understood as priests, this nuanced view of the priestly establishment – some have gone astray, but not all – certainly does not reflect the us/them worldview typical of sects.” (The Book of the Watchers and the Priests of Jerusalem, in: G. Boccaccini

268

Andreas Bedenbender

biblical prophets (or the circles behind the texts of the prophetical writings) could be termed as “the loyal opposition to the Temple,” the people whose world-view articulated itself in BW were much more radical in their rejection of the cult. The Book of Watchers and Biblical Tradition. The last point becomes still clearer as soon as BW is compared thoroughly with the primeval history in Gen 1–11. The overlap in content is considerable. Like Genesis, BW knows about: – the tree with the forbidden fruit (see 1 En 32:6); – the death of Abel (see 1 En 22:5–7 with Gen 4:10); – the person of Enoch (of course); – the sexual intercourse of the “sons of God” (in BW: “watchers”) with the “daughters of man;” and – the flood.

But even if both texts have also a common interest to show how the sin of created beings leads to divine punishment, the differences are at least as impressive. One might speak of two alternative interpretations of a common stock of traditions, competing with each other. The fundamental gap is to be seen in the following: according to Genesis, creation is essentially good not only in the beginning (see Gen 1:31 etc.), but even in later times. God is able to control the evil (see Gen 6) eventually through the sending of the flood.36 The primeval history offers several paradigms of sin, one of which is to prove “that any attempt to cross the border between humanity and the divine always results in disaster.”37 But the text of Genesis is based on the religious understanding of human freedom. Whoever wishes to avoid the danger of sin is able to do so. According to BW, on the other hand, evil appears as an autonomous reality, which has corrupted deeply the world and humanity. Since the fall of the watchers – an event mentioned rather casually in Gen 6:1–4 – the world is in a state of disorder, and the many cases of human sin appear as a mere consequence of the proton pseudos, the fall of the watchers. A reversal will be brought only by the “end of days,” for which the text is hoping. So, unlike Gen 1, in BW the movement is not from chaos to (present) order, but rather from divine order to (present) chaos.38 Having been deprived of their inherited status as priests, the early adherents of Enoch experienced themselves in a tohu va-bohu rather than in a cosmos. How could it be otherwise? The temple and the strict observance [ed.], The Origins of Enochic Judaism: Proceedings of the First Enoch Seminar University of Michigan, Sesto Fiorentino, Italy June 19–23, 2001, Henoch 24, Turin 2002, 133). 36  See Boccaccini: Beyond, 71; and idem: Roots, 76. 37  Boccaccini: Beyond, 71. 38  See Boccaccini: Beyond, 73.



Seers as Mantic Sages in Jewish Apocalyptic

269

of the cultic rituals had to bear the heavy burden of securing the stability of the world. Thus, a violation of the cultic order put into question the welfare, if not the very existence, of the entire creation. The Zadokites, believing in the validity of their own temple service, had to believe ipso facto in an intact world. And the Enochites, distrusting the validity of the present cult of Jerusalem, but not its fundamental meaning, took by neccessity the opposite position.39 The Astronomical Book and the Calendar of the Temple. It is also a hotly contested question as to whether the 364‑day solar calendar propagated by AB is the expression of an anti-Temple stance. The main difficulty is that we do not know what kind of calendar governed the Temple cult before the Maccabean crisis. If it was already the luni-solar calendar of later times, AB offers additional support for those who denied the legitimacy of the Jerusalem cult praxis. But it seems also possible to understand the calendar of AB as the old priestly calendar of the Temple. According to this view, the calendrical system was changed either at an unknown date during the exilic time, or by the order of Antiochus IV in 167 B. C. E. VanderKam has given plausible reasons why the victorious Maccabees might have decided in this last case to abstain from a return to the status quo ante.40 The problem seems unsolvable and is, thus, typical for the difficulties we have in finding out more about the producers of early Enochic literature. Maybe BW and AB originally had a completely different social background; one text was directed against the Temple (whether from outside or from inside) and the other one affirmed what was done there.

The Changes after the Maccabean Revolt With the persecution under Antiochus and the Maccabean revolt, the picture changes completely. In a number of texts composed from this period and following, Mosaic and Enochic traditions suddenly fuse with each other. AA and AW deal with the biblical recorded history of Israel, a subject completely new to Enoch,41 while secondary additions to BW and AB (1 En 1–5, 72:1, 80:2–8) begin to take over features of biblical eschatology.42 In the Book of Jubilees (composed probably between 160 and 100 B. C. E.), See also Boccaccini: Beyond, 72. See J. VanderKam: 2 Maccabees 6, 7a and Calendrical Change in Jerusalem, in: JSJ 12 (1981), 52–74. Critical of the position is Bedenbender: Gott, 168–177. An excellent overview of the different proposals is found in M. Albani: Astronomie und Schöpfungsglaube. Untersuchungen zum astronomischen Henochbuch, WMANT 68, Neukirchen-Vluyn 1994, 10–16. 41  See Bedenbender: Gott 109–116, 127–130. For the date of AW see Bedenbender: Gott, 120–122. 42  See Bedenbender: Gott, 215–217, 230–237. 39 

40 

270

Andreas Bedenbender

positive references to Enoch are integrated into a revelation received by Moses, and the Assumptio Mosis (which received its final redaction around the turn of the common era) presents Moses as an apocalyptic seer, i. e., as the same kind as Enoch.43 The reasons for so fundamental a change are to be found in the situation of 167 B. C. E. Persecuted by the same enemy, the followers of Moses and the adherents of Enoch44 must have found out that their internal strife was outdated. In order to survive, they joined their theological knowledge and commonly strengthened the resistance. (See the support AA offers in 1 En 90:6–16 to Judah Maccabee.) The fusion of literary traditions is the result of an ideological (and social) coalition, which in the end became a permanent union. Gabriele Boccaccini has made a strong case for seeing especially the later Essenes as the heirs of that alliance.45 To what degree (or whether at all) the tradents of Daniel also participated is not clear. Daniel 7–12 reflects the persecution from the position of the persecuted, but the text is not very enthusiastic about the deeds of Judah Maccabee.46 In later times, some of the texts of Qumran also drew some of their inspiration from Daniel, and probably Jubilees tries to reconcile the different esoteric traditions of Enoch and Daniel. In Jub 4:20 Enoch marries the daughter of a “Dan’el.”47 But in this case, we have no indication that the tradents of Daniel (or some of them) accepted this union set forth by Jubilees, or if only the spiritual heritage of Daniel was taken over by a completely different group.

See Bedenbender: Gott, 240–250. Obviously, the authors of the BW had quarreled about the symbolic universe the Zadokites had created by reshaping the Torah. They did not take issue with the Torah in regard to the main body of the Mosaic commandments. So it is not astonishing at all that they became targets of the persecution. 45  See Boccaccini: Beyond, 165–196. 46  Maybe the “little help” promised to the persecuted in Dan 11:34 is referring to the Maccabees. But, as Collins: Daniel, ad. loc., points out: “Whether the author of Daniel saw the Maccabees as a help at all is […] doubtful.” 47  An analogy is offered by the treatment of the Sibylla in a number of later texts. According to some tradition she was the sister of Enoch, while OrSib 3:809-829 (4th Century C. E.) understands her as the daughter-in-law of Noah. In each case the intention was obviously to prepare the ground for a Jewish (or Christian) reading of the Sibylline tradition. See also Bedenbender: Gott, 212–214. 43 

44 

Armin Lange

Sages and Scribes in the Qumran Literature Introduction No comprehensive study of the sage1 in the Qumran literature has been published to this point. For decades only a small part of the Dead Sea Scrolls was published. Early works discussed only the ‫ משכיל‬in the Essene Qumran texts. 2 Later on, scholars focused on individual designations of sages in the Qumran literature, again concentrating for the most part on the ‫משכיל‬.3 In the studies of wisdom literature in general and scribes and sages in particular, the Qumran evidence has been mostly ignored.4 In this article, I will provide a comprehensive overview of the sages and scribes in

1  Although the present volume focuses on scribes, sages, and seers, the latter category cannot be examined in this article, since there is not sufficient evidence for the office of a seer or diviner in the Qumran community. This is not to say that especially in the Aramaic texts from Qumran there is  no evidence for what has otherwise been dubbed mantic and magical wisdom. For the question of divination in the Dead Sea Scrolls see A. Lange: The Essene Position on Magic and Divination, in: M. Bernstein/F. García Martínez/J. Kampen (eds.), Legal Texts and Legal Issues: Proceedings of the Second Meeting of the International Organization for Qumran Studies Cambridge 1995, STDJ 23, Leiden 1997), 377–435, and J. VanderKam: Mantic Wisdom in the Dead Sea Scrolls, DSD 4 (1997), 336–353. 2  F. Nötscher: Zur theologischen Terminologie der Qumran-Texte, BBB 10, Bonn 1956, 46–47; J. Hempel: Die Stellung des Laien in Qumrān, in: H. Bardtke (ed.), Qumrān-Probleme: Vorträge des Leipziger Symposions über Qumrān-Probleme vom 9. bis 14. Oktober 1961, Deutsche Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin: Schriften der Sektion für Altertumswissenschaft 42, Berlin 1963, 193–215, 196–209; H. Kosmala: Makîl, in: D. Marcus (ed.), The Gaster Festschrift, JANESCU 5, New York 1973, 235–241, 240–241; and J. Worrel: Concepts of Wisdom in the Dead Sea Scrolls, PhD diss., The Claremont Graduate School, 1968, 150–154. 3  C. Newsom: The Sage in the Literature of Qumran: The Functions of the Makîl, in: J. Gammie/L. Perdue (eds.), The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, Winona Lake, IN 1990, 373–382; A. Lange: Weisheit und Prädestination: Weisheitliche Urordnung und Prädestination in den Textfunden von Qumran, STDJ 18, Leiden 1995, 144–148. 4  See e. g. G. von Rad: Weisheit in Israel, Neukirchen-Vluyn 31985; J. Crenshaw: Old Testament Wisdom: An Introduction, Atlanta 1981; idem: Education in Ancient Israel: Across the Deadening Silence, New York 1998; H. Preuß: Einführung in die alttestamentliche Weisheitsliteratur, Urban-Taschenbücher 383, Stuttgart 1987; R. Murphy: The Tree of Life: An Exploration of Biblical Wisdom Literature, New York 1990.

272

Armin Lange

the Qumran literature.5 First of all, I shall discuss the references to the Hebrew nouns ‫חכם‬, ‫יודע‬, ‫מבין‬, ‫משכיל‬, ‫נבון‬, and ‫ סופר‬as well as to the Aramaic words ‫ חכים‬and ‫ ספר‬in the non-Essene6 texts from Qumran. Afterwards, the use of the designations ‫חכם‬, ‫מבין‬, ‫משכיל‬, ‫נבון‬, and ‫ סופר‬in the Essene Qumran literature will be investigated.7

The Sage in Sapiential 8 and other Non-Essene Texts from Qumran Hebrew Texts ‫חכם‬9 The non-Essene sapiential literature from Qumran uses the noun ‫ חכם‬in

the ways attested elsewhere in ancient Jewish wisdom literature. The sage (‫ )חכם‬is the addressee of a didactic speech, which contains a parable [see e. g. 4QpapAdmonitory Parable (4Q302) 2 ii 2].10 As in biblical wisdom literature, the righteous sage is also mentioned in opposition to the wicked fool. At least in the Book of Mysteries this opposition is not restricted to an ethical dualism but has cosmological dimensions: In 4QMysta (4Q299) 3a ii–b 4, the sage (‫ )חכם‬is mentioned in parallelism to the ‫ צדיק‬and opposed to the wisdom of evil cunning and the plans of Belial. In the rather damaged text 4QMystc (4Q301) 2a 1, the phrase “judgments of a fool and the inheritance of a sage [” could hint at an eschatologization of the act-consequence correlation. The Musar leMebin claims special insights for the wise 5  The biblical manuscripts from Qumran will not be treated in this survey. To discuss them would overlap with other contributions to this volume. 6  For the distinction between non-Essene and Essene literature, see first C. Hunzinger: Fragmente einer älteren Fassung des Buches Milamā aus Höhle 4 von Qumran, ZAW 69 (1957), 131–151, 149–151. 7  The participle ‫“( מבונן‬understanding one”) occurs rarely in Essene literature, but it is always used as an adjective to designate those who are educated in the book of Hago: CD 10:6 [par. 4QDa (4Q266) 8 iii 5; 4QDe (4Q270) 6 iv 17]; 13:2 [par. 4QDb (4Q267) 9 v 12]; 14:7–8. 8  For surveys of the sapiential literature from the Qumran library, see D. Harrington: Wisdom Texts from Qumran, The Literature of the Dead Sea Scrolls, London 1996; J. Collins: Jewish Wisdom in the Hellenistic Age, OTL, Louisville, 1997, 112–131; and A. Lange: Die Weisheitstexte aus Qumran: Eine Einleitung, in: C. Hempel/A. Lange/H. Lichtenberger (eds.), The Wisdom Texts from Qumran and the Development of Sapiential Thought, BETL 159, Leuven 2002, 3–30. If not noted otherwise, arguments for the non-Essene character of the texts which are discussed in the first part of my article may be found in Lange: Weisheitstexte, 9–29. 9  In the non-Essene texts from Qumran, the attestations of ‫ חכם‬in 4QpsJuba (4Q225) 3 i 11; 4QSapiential Hymn (4Q411) 1 ii 7; 4QUnidentified Fragments C a (4Q468a) 2; 4QBeatitudes (4Q525) 5 8 23 4 A 1 are too damaged for analysis. 10  For the non-Essene character of the Admonitory Parable-Text, see B. Nitzan: Admonitory Parable, DJD 20 (1997), 125–149, esp. 127–128.



Sages and Scribes in the Qumran Literature

273

of heart (‫)חכם לב‬11, as opposed to all the living (‫ )כול חי‬among whom God has distributed their inheritance (‫)נחלתם‬. The non-sapiential and non-Essene texts from the Qumran library reflect also the use of ‫ חכם‬in non-Qumranic literature. In its use of ‫חכם‬, 11QTa LI:14 depends on the Temple Scroll’s12 hypotext, i. e. Deut 16:19. The Temple Scroll develops no understanding of its own of the ‫חכם‬. 11QPsa XXVII:2–11 (David’s Compositions)13 narrates how the sage David composed psalms and liturgical songs by way of prophecy (11QPsa XXVII:11). Using sapiential vocabulary, David’s Compositions describes him as “a sage (‫)חכם‬, a light like the light of the sun, a scribe (‫)סופר‬, an understanding one (‫)נבון‬, and perfect in all his ways before God” (11QPsa XXVII:2–3). God gave him “a discerning and enlightened spirit” (‫ ;רוח נבונה ואורה‬11QPsa XXVII:4). Among the songs composed by David are also four exorcist texts to be prayed over the stricken (11QPsa XXVII:10). In David’s Compositions, his wisdom thus embodies both magical and divinatory components. To achieve this characterization of David, 11QPsa XXVII:2–11, taking its language from 2 Sam 23:1–7.14 This is all the more significant as 2 Sam 23:1–7 precedes 11QPsa XXVII:2–11 in the 11QPsa-Psalter.

‫יודע‬15

The participle of the root ‫ ידע‬rarely designates a sage or a wise person in the non-Essene texts from the Qumran library. In most attestations, the participle is used verbally: 1QJubb (1Q18) 1–2 3 (= Jub 35:9); 4QTobe (4Q200) 4 3 (= Tob 10:7); 4QpapJubh (4Q223–224) 2 ii 3 (= Jub 35:13); 4QBeatitudes (4Q525) 14 ii 15; 11QapocrPs (11Q11) III:7. It is only in 4QNon-Canonical Psalms B (4Q381) 31 6 that the ‫“( ידעי בינה‬those who have insights into understanding”) might designate a group of sages, which in this case would be judged negatively.

11  The same rare phrase is attested in 4QUnidentified Fragments C a (4Q468a 2), which raises the question as to whether this very damaged fragment belongs to the MLM manuscripts. 12  For the non-Essene character of the Temple Scroll, see H. Stegemann: The Origins of the Temple Scroll, in: J. A. Emerton (ed.), Congress Volume: Jerusalem 1986, VTSup 40, Leiden 1988, 235–56, esp. 238–41. 13  For the non-Essene character of 11QPsa XXVII:2–11, see D. Falk: Daily, Sabbath, and Festival Prayers in the Dead Sea Scrolls, STDJ 27, Leiden 1998, 95. 14  Cf. J. Sanders: The Dead Sea Psalms Scroll, Ithaca, NY 1967, 134–35. 15  4QAgesCreat A (4Q181 2 5); 4QSapiential Work (4Q185) 1–2 iii 13; 4QMystb 4Q300 6 3; 4QapocrJosha (4Q378) 26 1; 4QShirShabba (4Q400) 2 9; 3 ii+5 5; 4QShirShabbb (4Q401) 17 4; 35 1, 4QShirShabbf (4Q405) 3 ii 9; 4QSapiential-Didactic Work A (4Q412) 4 4; 4QInstructiong (4Q423) 1–2 i 7; 4QpapHymns/Prayer (4Q499) 3 3; 4QHymnic Work? (4Q579) 1 3 are too damaged for analysis.

274

Armin Lange

‫מבין‬16

In the sapiential texts from Qumran, ‫“( מבין‬the understanding one/the one who causes understanding/teacher”) is a prominent designation of the sage. This is especially true for a wisdom text from the (late) third century B. C. E., the Musar leMebin (4QInstruction; MLM).17 The word ‫מבין‬ is known from biblical texts as well as other non-Essene texts from the Qumran library,18 which either are earlier than or contemporary with the MLM. In Prov 8:9; 17:10, 24, the ‫ מבין‬is just one of many designations of the traditional sage (cf. the adjective use of ‫ מבין‬in Prov 28:2, 7, 11). And at least in one non-sapiential text, YHWH is praised as the ultimate ‫[ מבין‬4QApocryphon of Mosesc? (4Q408) 3+3a 7].19 In Dan 1:4 the participle ‫ מבין‬is used as an adjective and describes a sapiential court official, while the ‫אין מבין‬ of Dan 8:27 laments the lack of a sapiential diviner who would have been able to interpret Daniel’s vision. The word ‫ מבין‬is especially prominent in the Chronistic literature (14 out of 27 occurrences in biblical literature). Without a sapiential connotation, it can qualify the insightfulness of elders (Ezra 8:16) or the Torah knowledge of a heterogenous group (Neh 10:29). In parallel with the noun ‫“( ספר‬scribe”), it describes David’s uncle Jonathan as a sage (1 Chr 27:32). But most attestations of the word ‫ מבין‬in the Chronistic literature are connected with Levites. The levitical singers are qualified as ‫מבין‬/‫( מבינים‬1 Chr 15:22, 2 Chr 34:12). And in 1 Chr 25:7–8, the ‫ מבין‬is the master singer as opposed to his student (‫תלמיד‬, 1 Chr 25:8). Another 16  The attestations of ‫ מבין‬in 4QMyst a (4Q299) 34 3; 4QMeditation on Creation A (4Q303) 1 1; 4QNarrative and Poetic Compositionb (4Q372) 8 4; 4QNon-Canonical Psalms B (4Q381) 47 3; 4QInstructiona (4Q415) 11 5; 4QInstructionb (4Q416) 4 3; 4QInstructionc (4Q417) 1 ii 10; 4QInstructiond (4Q418) 126 ii 12; 158 4; 168 4; 221 3; 227 1; 273 1; 4QInstructione (4Q418a) 7 2, 3; 4QpapPrFetesc (4Q509) 4 4; 12 i–13 3 are too corrupt to allow any cogent analysis. 17  For a 3rd cent. B. C. E. date of the MLM, see A. Lange: Weisheit und Prädestination, 46–49; cf. now also T. Elgvin: Priestly Sages? The Milieus of Origin of 4QMysteries and 4QInstruction, in: J. Collins/G. Sterling/R. Clements (eds.), Sapiential Perspectives: Wisdom Literature in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Proceedings of the Sixth International Symposium of the Orion Center for the Study of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Associated Literature, 20–22 May, 2001, STDJ 51, Leiden 2004, 67–87, 84. For other datings of the MLM see e. g. E. Tigchelaar: To Increase Learning for the Understanding One: Reading and Reconstructing the Fragmentary Early Jewish Sapiential Text 4QInstruction, STDJ 44, Leiden 2001, 247 [“no later that (sic) somewhere in the second century B. C. E.”]; M. Goff: The Worldly and Heavenly Wisdom of 4QInstruction, STDJ 50, Leiden 2003, 231 (“second century B. C. E.”). 18  Isa 57:1; Ps 33:15; 119:130; Dan 8:5, 23; 1 Chr 28:9; 2 Chr 26:5; 35:3; 4QApocryphal Psalms B (4Q381) 45a+b 1; 4QpapPrFetesc (4Q509) 4 4 attest to a verbal use of the participle ‫מבין‬. 19  For the non-Essene character of the Apocryphon of Moses, see J. Strugnell: MosesPseudepigrapha at Qumran: 4Q375, 4Q376, and Similar Works, in L. H. Schiffman (ed.), Archaeology and History in the Dead Sea Scrolls: The New York University Conference in Memory of Yigael Yadin, JSPSup 2, Sheffield 1990, 248; cf. idem: Apocryphon of Moses, DJD 19 (1995), 111–136, 131; A. Steudel: 408. 4QApocryphon of Mosesc? DJD 36 (2000), 298–315, esp. 298.



Sages and Scribes in the Qumran Literature

275

responsibility of the levitical ‫ מבין‬is to teach Israel (2 Chr 35:3). The subject matter of his teaching becomes evident in Neh 8. In Neh 8:2–3, the congregation ( ‫ )קהל‬to which Ezra brings and reads his torah is described with two merisms: ‫“( מאיש ועד אשה‬from man to woman,” Neh 8:2) and ‫האנשים והנשים‬ (“the men and the women,” Neh 8:3). By mentioning the two sexes, these merisms describe the whole of the congregation. The phrases “every understanding one” (‫וכל מבין‬, Neh 8:2) and “the understanding ones” (‫והמבינים‬, Neh 8:3) are added to the merisms of Neh 8:2, 3. The ‫ מבינים‬are thus emphasized as special members of the congregation. They are the Levites who explain Ezra’s Torah to his audience in Neh 8:7, 9. 20 The MLM holds a special place among the texts which use the word ‫מבין‬, because at least in an early version 21 the MLM is addressed to the ‫מבין‬ [4QInstructionc (4Q417) 1 i 1]. To a certain extent, the use of ‫ מבין‬in the MLM reflects the Chronistic literature’s use of the word. In the MLM, ‫מבין‬ designates a person with specialized skills: The ‫ מבין‬understands “the calamities of tax-collection” [4QInstructiond (4Q418) 176 3]. 22 God gave him control of the wisdom of hands (‫)בחכמת ידים‬, i. e. craftsmanship23 [4QInstructiond (4Q418) 81+81a 15]. But different from Chronicles, in the preserved parts of the MLM, Levites and Levitical singers are not connected with the ‫מבין‬, although this text expresses priestly concerns repeatedly. 24 Rather, the technical skills of the ‫ מבין‬are combined with philosophical wisdom: hGkGMOydy tmkx lwk tm)b NybmG[ ht)w [“and you Who understands truth, through all the wisdom of your hands,”25 4QInstructiond (4Q418) 102a+b 3]. In the introduction of the (earlier version of) MLM [4QInstructionc (4Q417) 1 i 1–13], the ‫ מבין‬is admonished to observe and perceive the ‫רז נהיה‬ (“the mystery of being/becoming”). ‫ רז נהיה‬is a prominent expression in the MLM which designates a preexistent and predestined order of being. 20  For Neh 8:1–9, see A. Lange: Authoritative Literature and Scripture in the Chronistic Corpus: The Use of ‫ כתוב‬-Formulas in Ezra-Nehemiah and 1–2 Chronicles, in: M. Perani (ed.), The Words of a Wise Man’s Mouth are Gracious (Qoh 10,12) (SJ 32, Berlin 2005, 29–52). 21  For the two different beginnings of the MLM see the material reconstruction of A. Steudel and B. Lucassen as described in A. Lange: Weisheitstexte, 17 and J. Strugnell/D. Harrington: Instruction, DJD 34 (1999), 1–503, 19. 22  For ‫מדהבה‬, “tax-collection,” see Strugnell/Harrington, 398. 23  Cf Strugnell/Harrington, 328: “‫חכמת ידים‬, ‘cunning/skill of hands’ is not infrequent (cf frgs. 137 2; 139 2; cf 4Q424 3 7); the phrase is not found in other 1–11Q texts, but it should mean artisanal skill.” 24  See A. Lange: In Diskussion mit dem Tempel: Zur Auseinandersetzung zwischen Kohelet und weisheitlichen Kreisen am Jerusalemer Tempel, in: A. Schoors (ed.), Qohelet in the Context of Wisdom, BETL 136, Leuven 1998, 113–159, esp. 131 and idem: Weisheitstexte, 24. 25  ‫ ם‬is deleted in 4Q418 102a+b 3 by a supralinear dot. Cf. Strugnell/Harrington, 328; E. Tov: Scribal Practices and Approaches Reflected in the Texts Found in the Judean Desert, STDJ 54, Leiden 2004, 190.

276

Armin Lange

Different from earlier sapiential conceptions, this order is not exclusively ethical but comprises also historical, cosmological, and eschatological dimensions. 26 For the MLM, knowledge about the ‫ רז נהיה‬may be gained through two books, the Torah [4QInstructionc (4Q417) 1 i 14–15] and the “vision of meditation for a book of remembrance” [‫ספר זכרון‬lG hGghhG Nwzx: 4QInstructionc (4Q417) 1 i 15–16], which was revealed to Enosh. In Qumran literature, this “vision of meditation for a book of remembrance” is otherwise named the Book of Hago [CD 10:6 (par. 4QDa 8 iii 5); 13:2; 14:7–8 (par. 4QDb 9 v 12); 1QSa I:7]. The text itself is lost, but CD 14:7–8 (par. 4QDa 10 i 1; 4QDb 9 v 12) shows that it was halakhic in character. Consequently, in 4QInstructionc (4Q417) 1 i 14, the ‫ מבין‬is admonished to study both books to gain knowledge about the preexistent and predestined order of the universe. This relation of the ‫ מבין‬with the study of the Torah reminds one of Neh 8:2–3, 7, 9. The MLM is advocating a form of Torah wisdom. The ‫ רז נהיה‬is revealed to the sage through the window of two books concerned with heavenly law. Elsewhere in the MLM, the ‫’מבין‬s search for and study of the ‫ רז נהיה‬can be described as a process of revelation, [hOyhn zrb Mynybm Nzw) l) hlg r#) wcqG = “his time, which he revealed to the ear of the understanding ones in the mystery of being/becoming,” 4QInstructiond (4Q418) 123 ii 4]. Afterwards, the ‫ מבין‬is urged to observe, weigh his deeds, guard, and judge [4QInstructiond (4Q418) 123 ii 5–8]. For the MLM, the knowledge of the ‫ רז נהיה‬is not esoteric in character and thus restricted to the ‫מבין‬. On the contrary, the student 27 of the understanding one [‫בן מבין‬, 4QInstructionc (4Q417) 1 i 18] is also encouraged to seek and study the ‫רז נהיה‬. Although the ‫ מבין‬is attested in other wisdom texts from Qumran [4QMysta (4Q299) 34 3; 4QMeditation on Creation A (4Q303) 1 1], outside of the MLM only one reference is preserved well enough to provide information about the ‫מבין‬. In 4QBeatitudes (4Q525) 14 ii 18, the ‫ מבין‬is mentioned in the introductory formula of a sapiential didactic speech: ‫“( ועתה מבין שמעה לי‬and now, understanding one, listen to me”). What follows is a typical sapiential admonition to listen and speak carefully and cautiously. Different from other sapiential didactic speeches, the teacher who instructs in 4QBeatitudes (4Q525) 14 ii 18–28 and whose words the sage needs to listen to carefully seems to be God. The use of ‫“( הגה‬to 26  For this meaning of the phrase ‫רז נהיה‬, see Lange: Weisheit und Prädestination, 55–60. An instructive summary of the history of research on this phrase can be found in B. Wold: Women, Men and Angels: The Qumran Wisdom Document Musar leMevin and Its Allusions to Genesis Creation Tradition, WUNT 2.201, Tübingen 2005, 20–24. 27  For ‫ בן‬as a designation of a student, see 2 Kgs 6:1. In ancient Mesopotamia, the relation between teacher and student was similarly described as a father-son relation: See H. Otten: Mesopotamien, in: H. Schmökel (ed.), Kulturgeschichte des Alten Orients, Stuttgart 1961, repr. Augsburg 1995, 409.



Sages and Scribes in the Qumran Literature

277

meditate”) in 4QBeatitudes (4Q525) 14 ii 19 could imply that the sage listens to God’s words by studying his Torah. 28 This interpretation of 4QBeatitudes (4Q525) 14 ii 18–20 would agree well with the identification of wisdom and Torah expressed in 4QBeatitudes (4Q525) 2–3 ii 1–6.

‫משכיל‬29

In its use of the term ‫“( משכיל‬the one who provides understanding/teacher”) the non-Essene literature from Qumran participates in the overall use of the term in ancient Jewish texts. In Dan 11:33, 35; 12:3, 10, the hiphil participle of the root kl designates a teacher or instructor: “The makl who has daat elhm … knows the mysteries of his wonderful deeds, knows that the q (’aarít ymayy’), with its punishment and reward, is coming, and therefore gives heed to the perfect way before God.”30 In the MLM, the ‫ מבין‬is encouraged to “get increasingly more instruction from all G ‫ומיד כול משכילכה הוסף‬, 4QInstructiond (4Q418) 81+81a 17]. his teachers” [‫לקח‬ And in 4QInstructionc (4Q417) 1 i 25, the student 31 of the ‫ משכיל‬is urged to understand his mysteries (‫ משכיל התבונן ברזיכה‬NGbO). As in its wording this phrase is rather close to the admonition to the ‫ בן מבין‬to gain insights into the ‫ רז נהיה‬in 4QInstructionc (4Q417) 1 i 18, the ‫ משכיל‬and the ‫ מבין‬designate the same type of sage in the MLM.32 Like Sir 7:21; 10:23; 13:21 and 47:12 the MLM uses the word ‫ משכיל‬also as an adjective designating the wise behavior of a person in front of a tax collector [4QInstructionb (4Q416) 2 ii 15 par. 4QInstructionc (4Q417) 2 ii 19 par. 4QInstructiond (4Q418) 8 15]. The Shirot ‘Olat HaShabbat33 use the term ‫ משכיל‬in the introductory formulae of every song in the collection. A good example is 4QShirShabba (4Q400) 1 i 1.34 ‫למשכיל שיר עולת השב[ה הראישונה ברב בארבעה להדש הראישן‬

“for the makl the song of the sacrifice of] the first [sabb]ath on the 4th (day) of the first month”

28  Compare the use of ‫ הגה‬in Josh 1:8; Ps 1:2; and 4QBeatitudes 2–3 ii 6, where the object of the meditation is always the Torah or wisdom identified with the Torah. 29  The references to ‫ משכיל‬in 4Qpap paraKings et al. (4Q382) 14 1; 4QInstructiond (4Q418) 21 2; 238 1; 4QInstructione (4Q418a) 19 2; 4QPoetic Text A (4Q446) 2 3; 4QNarrative B (4Q461 1 6) are too damaged for any informative analysis. 30  Kosmala: Makîl, 240. 31  For ‫ בן‬as a designation of a wisdom student, see above n. 27. 32  Cf. C. Hempel: The Qumran Sapiential Texts and the Rule Books, in: C. Hempel/A. Lange/H. Lichtenberger (eds.), The Wisdom Texts from Qumran and the Development of Sapiential Thought, BEThL 159, Leuven 2002, 277–295, esp. 287. 33  For the ShirShabb as a non-Essene text, see C. Newsom: “Sectually Explicit” Literature from Qumran, in: W. H. Propp/B. Halpern/D. Freedman (eds.), The Hebrew Bible and Its Interpreters, Winona Lake, IN. 1990, 167–187, 179–185. 34  Other examples are 4QShirShabba (4Q400) 3 ii+5 8, 4QShirShabbb (4Q401) 1–2 1, 4QShirShabbd (4Q403) 1 i 30, 1 ii 18, 4QShirShabbf (4Q405) 20 ii–22 6, 4QShirShabbg (4Q406) 1 4 and 11QShirShabb (11Q17) VII:9.

278

Armin Lange

Depending on the Sabbath in question, only the numerals indicating Sabbath, day, and month change. Otherwise the text of the formula remains the same. Although grammatically possible, in the ShirShabb the preposition ‫ ל‬does not indicate the authors of the individual songs or a directive on how to sing them 35 but rather the person who should sing or read it. 36 The makl is thus a liturgical performer. This is all the more probable as such a liturgical use of ‫ למשכיל‬is not restricted to the ShirShabb, but can also be found in several Essene texts and in 4QpapHodayot-like Text B (4Q433a) 2 2. In the latter, a parable about a tree is addressed to the teacher.37

‫נבון‬38

4QBeatitudes (4Q525) mentions “the understanding one” (‫ )נבון‬in a context of Torah observance and fear of God (5 10). As elsewhere in Torah wisdom, the word ‫ נבון‬designates in Beatitudes a person who lives in accordance with the prescriptions of the law. In the non-Essene and non-sapiential literature from Qumran, ‫ נבון‬describes someone as a sage in order to give legitimacy to magical and/or divinatory acts: 4QpapJubh (4Q223–224) v.  28 (Jub 40:5)39 depicts Pharaoh’s response to the interpretation of his dreams by Joseph. “Will we find a ma]n of under[standing (‫נב ]ון‬G ) and wise like this man, for the spirit of G]od [ is with him?” The phrase ‫נבון וחכם‬ (“understanding and wise”) was introduced by Jub 40:5 into its hypotext (Gen 41:38). This addition provides thus Jubilees’ own understanding of Joseph’s dream interpretations. For the Book of Jubilees, they are sapiential in nature. This use of ‫ נבון וחכם‬reminds one of the magic and mantic qualities the sage has in Aramaic Jewish literature from the second temple period (see below, pp. 279–282). 11QPsa XXVII:2–11 (for ‫נבון‬, see line 3) describes the composition of psalms and liturgical songs by the sage David as an act of prophecy (see above p. 273) and is thus close to Jub 40:5.

Cf. C. Newsom: Shirot ‘Olat HaShabbat, DJD 11 (1998), 173–401, 179. See O. Camponovo: Königtum, Königsherrschaft und Reich Gottes in den frühjüdischen Schriften, OBO 58, Fribourg/Göttingen 1984, 264 n. 107; and A. Schwemer: Gott als König und seine Königsherrschaft in den Sabbatliedern aus Qumran, in: M. Hengel/A. Schwemer (eds.), Königsherrschaft Gottes und himmlischer Kult im Judentum, Urchristentum und in der hellenistischen Welt, WUNT 55, Tübingen 1991, 45–118, 47 n. 8. 37  Due to extensive damages to the text, it is uncertain whether Hodayot-like Text B is of Essene or non-Essene origin. 38  The attestations of ‫ נבון‬in 4QWays of Righteousnessb (4Q421) 1a ii–b 10; 4QMessianic Apocalypse (4Q521) 2ii+4 14; 4QBeatitudes (4Q525) 16 3; 24 ii 1 are too damaged for analysis. 39  For the origins of the Book of Jubilees, see J. VanderKam: The Origins and Purposes of the Book of Jubilees, in: M. Albani/J. Frey/A. Lange (eds.), Studies in the Book of Jubilees, TSAJ 65, Tübingen 1997, 3–24. 35 

36 



279

Sages and Scribes in the Qumran Literature

For the use of ‫“( סופר‬scribe”) in 11QPs XXVII:2 (see above, p. 273). a

‫סופר‬40

Aramaic Texts41 from the Qumran Library (‫חכים‬42 and ‫סופר‬43) The Aramaic Jewish literature from the second temple period mentions sages mostly in non-sapiential texts. Different from most of the Hebrew texts found in Qumran, the Aramaic Dead Sea Scrolls express an idea of the sage which reminds one of the Joseph story and the book of Daniel. The sage is distinguished by magical and divinatory skills. The only Aramaic wisdom text from Qumran is a retelling of Abraham’s sojourn to Egypt (Gen 12:10–20) in the form of a wisdom didactic tale. It is one of the sources of the Abraham narrative in the Genesis Apocryphon (1QapGen XIX:10–XX:32).44 Together with wizards and physicians, the [‫]חכימי‬ ‫[“( מצרין‬sages of] Egypt”) are listed among the specialists who are unable to cure the Pharaoh (1QapGen XX:19–20). In contrast, the sage Abraham conjures a spirit of pestilence who causes Pharaoh’s affliction (1QapGen XX:12–18) and cures him (1QapGen XX:26–29). That Abraham is indeed described as a sage in the Genesis Apocryphon’s report about his sojourn to Egypt becomes evident in 1QapGen XIX:23–27. The text reveals how three courtiers of the Pharaoh visit the sage Abraham and ask him for knowledge, wisdom, and truth ()G+G#GwGqGwG )GtGmGkGxGwG )G(GdGnGm,G 1QapGen XIX:25).45 Next to counseling, conjuring pestilential spirits, and exorcising them, Abraham’s wisdom is manifested in his skill of dream interpretation. Like Joseph, the sage Abraham is a dream diviner (1QapGen XIX:14–23). 40  The attestations of ‫ סופר‬in 4QUnidentified Fragments A q (4Q282q) 1 and 4QNarrative B (4Q461) 2 1 are too damaged for analysis. The remark of H. Niehr, “In Qumran ist der Titel soper nicht belegt” is clearly wrong (rp's&: sōpêr, ThWAT 5 [1984–86], 921–929). 41  For the non-Essene character of the Aramaic texts from Qumran, see A. Lange: Kriterien essenischer Texte, in: J. Frey/H. Stegemann (eds.), Qumran kontrovers: Beiträge zu den Textfunden vom Toten Meer, Einblicke 6, Paderborn 2003, 59–69, 64. 42  The attestations of ‫ חכים‬in 4QpsDana ar (4Q243) 11 ii 1; 4QBirth of Noahc ar (4Q536) 2 i+3 5; 4QapocrLevib? ar (4Q541) 2 ii 6; 7 5; 4QpapVisionb ar (4Q558) 26 1 are too damaged for analysis. 43  The attestation of ‫ ספר‬in 4QBook of Giantsf ar (4Q206) 2 2 is too damaged for analysis. 44  For 1QapGen XIX:10–XX:32 as a source incorporated into Genesis Apocryphon’s retelling of the Abraham cycle, see A. Lange: 1QGenAp XIX10 –XX 32 as a Paradigm of the Wisdom Didactive Narrative, in: H.-J. Fabry/A. Lange/ H. Lichtenberger (eds.), Qumran­ studien: Vorträge und Beiträge der Teilnehmer des Qumranseminars auf dem internationalen Treffen der Society of Biblical Literature, Münster, 25.–26. Juli 1993, Schriften des Institutum Judaicum Delitzschianum 4, Göttingen 1996, 191–204. 45  Transcription according to K. Beyer: Die Aramäischen Texte vom Toten Meer samt den Inschriften aus Palästina, dem Testament Levis aus der Kairoer Genisa, der Fastenrolle und den alten talmudischen Zitaten, Göttingen 1984, 173.

280

Armin Lange

Dream-divination is also one of the skills of the sage Enoch.46 Both the Enochic Book of Giants and the Letter of Enoch describe Enoch as a “scribe of interpretation” (1 En 92:1) and sage, while in the Book of Watchers (1 En 1–36) the designations “scribe of righteousness” (γραμματεύς τῆς δικαιοσύνης, 1 En 12:4 Codex Panopolitanus) or “scribe of truth” (γραμματεύς τῆς ἀληϑείας, 1 En 15:1 Codex Panopolitanus) are used. The two Greek phrases translate the Aramaic ‫ספר קושטא‬.47 In the introduction to the Letter of Enoch (1 En 92:1),48 Enoch is also called a scribe: .‫חנוך ספר פרשא וח]כים אנשא בוחי]ר [בני ]ארעא למדין עבדיהון‬ “Enoch the scribe of prš’ and] the wisest of men and chose[n of ]the sons of [earth to judge their deeds” [4QEnochg ar (4Q212) 1 ii 22–23].49

As this phrase occurs in the introduction to the Letter of Enoch, Enoch’s wisdom seems to refer to the subject matter of the letter, i. e. his apocalyptic knowledge about the future history of the world and his teachings about the righteous and the sinners. Because of this knowledge, Enoch is “named the wisest of men and perhaps (no Aramaic is preserved for this part of the verse) a/the judge of the whole earth.”50 The meaning of the phrase ‫ ספר פרשא‬is discussed. Milik translates it as “scribe of distinction,”51 Beyer translates it as “des Schreibers, der deuten kann,”52 and Reeves suggests it indicates “the scribe set apart.”53 The meaning of the phrase becomes apparent when its attestations in the Enochic Book of Giants are considered [4QBook of Giantsa ar (4Q203) 8 4; 4QBook of Giantsb ar (4Q530) 2 ii+6–12 14]. 4QBook of Giantsa ar (4Q203) 8 4 resembles 1 En. 92:1. As in the Letter of Enoch, in 4QBook of Giantsa ar (4Q203) 8 4, the phrase ‫ ספר פרשא‬is used in the heading of a document 46  In this part of my article only the references to the scribe Enoch that are preserved in the Enochic manuscripts from Qumran are discussed. For more comprehensive studies, see J. Collins: The Sage in the Apocalyptic and Pseudepigraphic Literature, in: J. Gammie/L. Perdue (eds.), The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, Winona Lake, IN 1990, 343–354, esp. 344–347. Also see the essay by A. Bedenbender in this volume: Seers as Mantic Sages in Jewish Apocalyptic (Daniel and Enoch). 47  See J. Milik: The Books of Enoch: Aramaic Fragments of Qumrân Cave 4, Oxford 1976, 262. 48  According to Ms. Kebran 9/II (Hammerschmidt: Tanasee 9/II), the Letter of Enoch begins in 1 En 92:1. Cf. E. Isaac: 1 (Ethiopic Apocalypse of) Enoch (Second Century B. C.–First Century A. D.): A New Translation and Introduction, OTP 1 (1983), 5–89, 72 n. a. ad hoc. 49  For transcription, reconstruction and translation, see Milik: Books of Enoch, 260. 50  J. VanderKam: Enoch and the Growth of an Apocalyptic Tradition, CBQMS 16, Washington, DC 1984, 174. For the relation between the Ethiopic and the Aramaic versions of 1 Enoch 92:1, see op. cit., 173–174. 51  The Books of Enoch, 237, 260, 262. 52  Beyer: Aramäische Texte, 247, 648. 53  J. Reeves: Jewish Lore in Manichean Cosmogony: Studies in the Book of Giants Traditions, HUCM 14, Cincinnati 1992, 62, 63, 64, cf. op. cit., 76–77.



Sages and Scribes in the Qumran Literature

281

written by Enoch, i. e. in the heading of a letter to the watcher Shemihazah. This letter accuses Shemihazah, his wives, and his sons of their deeds and forecasts the corresponding punishment. 4QBook of Giantsb ar (4Q530) 2 ii+6–12 14 shows how Enoch gains this knowledge. In this fragment, the giants ask Enoch, the ‫ספר פרשא‬, to interpret one of their dreams. Enoch derives his distinct wisdom and knowledge thus through apocalyptic dream divination, in this case dream interpretation. The phrase ‫ספר פרשא‬ should therefore be translated as “scribe of interpretation.”54 This meaning of the root prš also appears to be attested in an Aramaic papyrus from Elephantine. Nl byhy bytk )nwt#n P) yl( Nxl# wwh xrybX xXrXyX Nz Nz #rpm […]

[…] explained item by item, month by month they were sending to me. A written document was given to us, too.55

Next to Abraham and Enoch, Noah is also described as a sage in the Aramaic literature from Qumran [4QBirth of Noaha ar (4Q534) 1 i 3–8].56 The study of three (heavenly?) books turns the young Noah into a sage who then qualifies to know the secrets of men and the secrets of all living beings through a vision [4QBirth of Noaha ar (4Q534) 1 i 8]. As with Enoch, the wisdom claimed for Noah surpasses sapiential thought and includes all the knowledge of the universe. Finally, in 4QVisions of ‘Amram f ar (4Q548) 1 ii–2 12 the traditional ethical dualism of wisdom literature is transcended and made into a cosmological and eschatological dualism. In this dualistic pattern of thought the 54  Cf. L. Stuckenbruck: The Book of Giants from Qumran: Texts, Translations, and Commentary, TSAJ 63, Tübingen 1997, 117–119. 55  For the transcription, see A. Cowley (ed.): Aramaic Papyri of the Fifth Century B. C.: With Translation and Notes, Oxford 1923, 53, # 17 line 3. For this interpretation of ‫מפרש‬, see J. Asmussen: Remarks on Judeo-Persian Translations of Some Aramaic Passages in the Hebrew Bible, ArOr 56 (1988), 341–345, esp. 343–344. 56  The text was originally seen as describing the messiah (J. Starcky: Les quatre étapes du messianisme á Qumran, RB 70 [1963], 481–505, 502; idem: Un texte messianique araméen de la grotte 4 de Qumrân”, E. Tisserant (ed.), Mémorial du cinquantenaire 1914–1964, Travaux de l’Institut Catholique de Paris 10, Paris 1964, 51–66). See recently again J. Zimmermann, Messianische Texte aus Qumran: Königliche, priesterliche und prophetische Messiasvorstellungen in den Schriftfunden aus Qumran, WUNT 2.104, Tübingen 1998, 170–203. But parallels with the birth stories of Noah in 1QapGen II–V and 1 Enoch 106–107 as well as the lack of messianic language argue that 4Q534 1 i 3–8 describe Noah and not the messiah (thus first J. Fitzmyer: The Aramaic ‘Elect of God’ Text from Cave IV, CBQ 27 [1965], 348–372; cf. also P. Grelot: Hénoch et ses écritures, RB 82 [1975], 481–500, 488–498; Milik: Books of Enoch, 56; F. García Martínez: 4QMes. Aram. y el libro de Noé, Salm 28 [1981], 195–232; idem: 4QMess ar and the Book of Noah, Qumran and Apocalyptic: Studies on the Aramaic Texts from Qumran, STDJ 9, Leiden 1992, 1–44; É. Puech: Naissance de Noé, DJD 31 [2001], 117–170, 123–125). For a brief summary of the history of research on this text including other identifications of its hero, see op. cit., 117–120.

282

Armin Lange

sage (‫ )חכי[ם‬and the truthful one (‫ )קשיט‬equal the children of light. Although texts like the MLM and the Book of Mysteries do not use the phrase “children of light,” the Visions of ‘Amram reminds one in 4QVisions of ‘Amram f ar (4Q548) 1 ii–2 12 of the cosmological and eschatological dualism of the non-Essene wisdom texts from Qumran and their idea of the sage.

Conclusion 1 In the non-Essene literature from the Qumran library, the sage is designated by a variety of different terms. The Hebrew texts use the words ‫“( חכם‬the wise one”), ‫“( יודע‬the knowing one”), ‫“( מבין‬the understanding one/the one, who causes understanding/teacher”), ‫“( משכיל‬the one who causes understanding/teacher”), ‫(“ נבון‬the understanding one”), and ‫סופר‬ (“scribe”). The Aramaic texts use the designations ‫“( חכים‬the wise one”) and ‫“( ספר‬scribe”). The Hebrew wisdom texts from Qumran employ the terms ‫ חכם‬and ‫ נבון‬similarly to biblical and early Jewish wisdom literature. As in Torah wisdom, the ‫ נבון‬is distinguished by Torah observance and the fear of God (Beatitudes). Didactic speeches may be addressed to the ‫( חכם‬Admonitory Parable). The righteous stands in opposition to the wicked. Different from biblical wisdom literature, though, this dualism is not just ethical but also cosmological and eschatological (MLM, Book of Mysteries). Furthermore, the ‫ חכם‬is privileged with special insights (MLM). The non-sapiential Hebrew texts from Qumran also partly reflect usages in biblical and early Jewish literature (Temple Scroll). David’s Compositions (11QPsa XXVII:2–11) describes David’s psalm-composing as an act of sapiential/scribal prophecy, and Joseph’s interpretation of the Pharaoh’s dreams is perceived similarly (Jub 40:5). Both texts remind one of the prominence of divinatory wisdom in Aramaic Jewish literature. The term ‫ יודע‬is used only in Non-Canonical Psalms B to describe a group of sages. While there are no hints that ‫ חכם‬and ‫ נבון‬or even ‫ סופר‬in the Hebrew non-Essene literature from Qumran were designations of professional sages, both ‫ מבין‬and ‫ משכיל‬may designate sapiential and/or priestly functionaries. Thus, the MLM is addressed to the ‫ מבין‬who is admonished to understand the preexistent and predestined order of being. This order is not exclusively ethical in nature but also comprises historical, cosmological, and eschatological dimensions and is revealed to the sage through the window of two books concerned with heavenly law, the Torah and the Book of Hago. This relation of the ‫ מבין‬with the study of the Torah reminds one of Neh 8:2–3, 7, 9. The ‫ מבין‬furthermore is distinguished by philosophical, political/administrative, and technical skills. While in the MLM, the makl seems to be another designation of the same type of



Sages and Scribes in the Qumran Literature

283

sage, the ShirShabb and Hodayot-like Text B address poetic/liturgical texts to him. In these texts the makl is a liturgical performer who recites the songs addressed to him. The concept of the diviner-sage that was observed in the David’s Compositions passage and in the Book of Jubilees is more prominent in Aramaic Jewish literature. In the Aramaic texts from Qumran, both Abraham and Enoch are described as sages/scribes of divination and magic who interpret dreams, conjure and exorcise demons, and have apocalyptic visions.57 In this context, Enoch is often called a “scribe.” In several respects the sages Enoch and Abraham remind one of the Daniel figure in the Aramaic part of the Book of Daniel. Similar to Enoch, Noah’s wisdom seems to be connected to revelation (Birth of Noah). The prominence of the diviner sage and the magic sage in Aramaic Jewish literature goes back to Mesopotamian58 and possibly Persian influence.59 Different from the texts concerned with the sages Enoch, Noah, and Abraham, the Vision of ‘Amram is committed to an eschatologized and cosmologized reading of the opposition between righteous sage and wicked fool, which I have also observed in the MLM text. Except for the Enochic literature, the description of a sage as a scribe is surprisingly rare in the non-Essene literature from Qumran. This cautions us against giving too much weight to the role of scribes in late second temple Judaism. Did the scribes lose their significance because wisdom found a new home in the Jerusalem temple after the royal court ceased to exist? While the non-Essene texts from Qumran provide a sketch of the ideas of the sage in late second temple Judaism, the Essene texts from Qumran offer the exceptional opportunity to study the sages inside a particular Jewish group, i. e. the Essenes. Do the Essene texts reflect the ideas of the sage found elsewhere in Jewish literature? Or did the Essenes develop their own understanding?

57  For the sage as a diviner and magician, see H.-P. Müller: Mkaxf, am, ThWAT 2 (1974– 1977), 920–944, 933–936; idem: Magisch-mantische Weisheit und die Gestalt Daniels, UF 1 (1969), 79–94; and idem: Mantische Weisheit und Apokalyptik, in: H. S. Nyberg (ed.), Congress Volume: Uppsala 1971, VTSup 22, Leiden 1972, 268–293. 58  For Mesopotamian influence on the early Enochic literature, see VanderKam: Enoch, 33–190. For divinatory sages in ancient Mesopotamia, see R. Sweet: The Sage in Akkadian Literature, in: J. Gammie/L. Perdue (eds.), The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, Winona Lake, IN 1990, 45–65, esp. 60–61. For a criticism of VanderKam’s view see A. Bedenbender in this volume. 59  For prophetic and divinatory Persian sages, see J. Russell: The Sage in Ancient Iranian Literature, in: J. Gammie/L. Perdue (eds.), The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, Winona Lake, IN 1990, 81–92.

284

Armin Lange

The Sage in the Essene Texts60 from Qumran ‫חכם‬61

4QBarkhi Nafshi (4Q436) 1a+b i 2 attests to a traditional understanding of the sage. God gave knowledge to the sage (‫ )חכם‬that he might gain understanding about his deeds (see lines 3–4).62 In 1QHa IX:37 (Ed. Sukenik63 I:35), the wise are addressed in a community song64 as part of an opening formula of a wisdom didactic speech. Although not much is preserved, the text seems to express a negative attitude towards the sage: “Listen, you sages, you who meditate upon knowledge, and you who are reckless, become (‫)יהיו‬65 steadfast in mind” [1QHa IX:36–37 (Ed. Sukenik I:34–35)]. A negative attitude towards a sage is also expressed in 1QHa XI:15 (Ed. Sukenik III:14) par. 4QpapHf (4Q432) 5 1. In the teacher song66 1QHa XI:6–19 (Ed. Sukenik III:5–18), the uselessness of the “wise men of the wicked” during the time of the eschatological judgment is emphasized. Their wisdom is ineffectual much like the skills of sailors caught in the middle of a terrifying storm. In 1QHa XI:15 (Ed. Sukenik III:14), the phrase ‫ וחכמיהם‬67 (“their sages”) designates the leaders of the wicked. Although both Hodayot references are negative in character, they do not seem to express a negative attitude to the sage as such. Both references are concerned with wicked sages and not with sages in general. The fact that elsewhere in the Hodayot the Teacher of Righteousc

60  If not noted otherwise, arguments for the Essene origins of the texts which are discussed in the second part of this article may be found in A. Lange/H. Lichtenberger: Qumran, TRE 27 (1997), 45–79. 61  4QH b (4Q428) 6 2 par. 1QHa XII:2 (Ed. Sukenik IV:1) is too deteriorated for analysis. 62  For the Essene character of Barkhi Nafshi, see M. Weinfeld/D. Seely: Barkhi Nafshi, DJD 29 (1999), 255–334, esp. 258–260. 63  1QHa is quoted according to the edition of H. Stegemann: Rekonstruktion der Hodajot: Ursprüngliche Gestalt und kritisch bearbeiteter Text der Hymnenrolle aus Höhle 1 von Qumran, PhD diss., Ruprecht-Karls-Universität Heidelberg, 1963. In parenthesis, the earlier column and line counts of E. Sukenik’s edition are given (The Dead Sea Scrolls of the Hebrew University, Jerusalem 1955). 64  For 1QHa IX:2–X:4 (Ed. Sukenik I:1–X:2) as a community song, see G. Jeremias: Der Lehrer der Gerechtigkeit, SUNT 2, Göttingen 1963, 170; J. Becker, Das Heil Gottes: Heilsund Sündenbegriffe in den Qumrantexten und im Neuen Testament, SUNT 3, Göttingen 1964, 52; cf. G. Morawe: Aufbau und Abgrenzung der Loblieder von Qumrân: Studien zur gattungsgeschichtlichen Einordnung der Hodajôth, Theologische Arbeiten 16, Berlin 1960, 139–140. 65  Transcription according to Stegemann: Rekonstruktion, col. ix. Sukenik reads ‫והיו‬ (Dead Sea Scrolls, transcription of pl. 35). 66  For the genre of 1QHa XI:6–19 (Ed. Sukenik III:5–18), see Becker: Heil, 54; cf. Morawe, Aufbau, 115. 67  Transcription follows Stegemann: Rekonstruktion, col. ix; against Sukenik: Dead Sea Scrolls, transcription of pl. 37.



Sages and Scribes in the Qumran Literature

285

ness is described as a sage [‫ מבין‬1QHa X:20 (Ed. Sukenik II:18, see below, pp. 291–292) confirms that sages are perceived positively by this text. Such a positive appreciation of the sage is also evident in two community rules from Qumran. Based on Deut 1:9–18 and influenced by Exod 18:13–26, 1QSa I:27–II:3 provides a list of those who are supposed to attend the “assembly of the community” (‫עצת היחד‬, 1QSa I:27). 1QSa I:27–28 is one of these texts, which lists ‫“( כול ח]כמי[ העדה והבונים והנידעים‬all wi[se men of] the congregation, the understanding, and the knowledgeable”). Somewhat later, the wise are mentioned again [1QSa II:16 par. 4QcryptSerekh HaE­ dah f (4Q249 f) 1–36] in another list, i. e., a list of those who will attend the messianic banquet at the end of days [1QSa II:11–22; par. 4QcryptSerekh HaEdahf (4Q249 f) 1–3; 4QcryptSerekh HaEdahg (4Q249g) 3–7 10–20; 4QcryptSerekh HaEdah h (4Q249h) 1–2; 5–7; 3 1; 4QcryptSerekh HaE­ dahi? (4Q249i) 1]. Again, this list is influenced by Deut 1:9–18 and Exod 18:13–26. Lawrence H. Schiffman’s analysis of the two lists is to the point: According to Deuteronomy, the sages and wise men are to serve as the officials. It is they whom Moses appoints to the various positions of authority. Indeed, the same impression is gained from comparison with Exod 18:21 and 25. The sect, however, interpreted Deuteronomy to mean that distinct leaders and sages were appointed. The sages and wise men would serve as judges and teachers. Besides them there was to be an entire series of officers connected with military conscription. These two groups, in the view of the sect, led people in the desert period. The very same two classes of officialdom would guide the sect in the end of days.68

While Deut 1:13 lists ‫חכמים ונבונים וידעים‬, 1QSa II:27–28 adds determinatives to the lists and thus turns “sages, understanding ones, and knowledgeable ones” into specific offices of the community (cf. 1QSa II:16). 1QSa I:27–28 emphasizes the wise in particular by describing them as [‫כול ח]כמי‬ ‫“( העדה‬all wi[se men of] the congregation”; cf. 1QSa II:16). In comparison, Deut 1:13 speaks only of ‫“( חכמים‬wise”). 1QSa’s focus on the wise is also reflected by the fact that the understanding ones and the knowledgeable ones (‫ )ונבונים וידעים‬are not mentioned among the attendees of the messianic banquet in 1QSa II:16. Without reference to a specific office, the terms ‫ חכם‬and ‫ נבון‬are used in CD 6:2–3 par. 4QDa (4Q266) 3 ii 10 par. 4QDb (4Q267) 2 8. After a brief report on the Hellenistic religious reforms of the years 175–164 B. C. E. (CD 5:20–6:1), the Damascus Document describes how the Essene predecessor movement evolved: “But God remembered the covenant with the forefathers and he raised up from Aaron understanding ones and from Israel wise men” (CD 6:2–3). In this text, ‫ חכם‬and ‫ נבון‬do not designate a 68  L. Schiffman: The Eschatological Community of the Dead Sea Scrolls, SBLMS 38, Atlanta 1989, 34.

286

Armin Lange

special office in the community, but rather emphasize the special quality of all members of the community’s predecessor movement, i. e. their true understanding of the law.

‫יודע‬69

As in the non-Essene literature from the Qumran library, the Essene texts from Qumran use the participle ‫ יודע‬often verbally: CD 9:12; 4QDf (4Q271) 3 6, 7; 1QS VI:25 [par. 4QSg (4Q261) 3 31]; 1QHa VI:26 (Ed. Sukenik XIV:15); 4QMidrEschata (4Q174) 1–3 ii 4a; MMT B 68, 80; C 8; 4QShirb (4Q511) 2 i 2; 2 ii 9. In several instances, ‫ יודע‬describes the (new) members of the Essene community as those who know: CD 1:1 [par. 4QDa (4Q266) 2 i 6; 4QDc (4Q268) 1 9]; 4QDe (4Q270) 2 ii 19; 1QSa I:28 (see above, p.  285); 4QcryptA Words of the Maskil to All Sons of Dawn70 (4Q298) 1–2 i 3; 3–4 ii 4, 6. These knowing members of the Essene community are opposed to the realm of Belial (1QM XIII:2–6, esp. line 3). In the Hodayot, the participle ‫ יודע‬designates members of the Essene community on the one hand [1QHa VII:18 (Ed. Sukenik 10 7) par. 4QHa (4Q427) 8 i 9; cf. 1QHa IX:33 (Ed. Sukenik I:31)] and heavenly beings on the other hand [1QHa XIX:17 (Ed. Sukenik XI:14)]. The latter could imply the notion of a communion of the Essenes with the angels.

‫משכיל‬71

To a large extent, the Essene texts from the Qumran library reflect the non-Essene use of ‫משכיל‬. The phrase ‫ למשכיל‬is attested in the headings of poetical and liturgical as well as non-poetic texts. In 1QSb I:1 and III:22 two songs are headed ‫“( דברי ברכה למשכיל‬words of blessing for the makl”).72 1QSb V:20 shows that in 1QSb the phrase ‫ למשכיל‬designates neither the author (“of the instructor”)73 nor describes it a way of how to perform a given song (“according to the way of the makl”). As in the headings of ShirShabb, ‫ למשכיל‬qualifies in 1QSb the one who is supposed to perform the song in question: 69  4QBera (4Q286) 7 i 6 is too damaged for analysis and in 4QpappIsac (4Q163) 15–16 3 the word ‫ יודע‬is part of a quote of Isa 29:11. Since the corresponding interpretation of this quotation is not preserved, an analysis of its Essene understanding is impossible. 70  For the Essene character of Words of the Maskil to All Sons of Dawn, see below, p. 288 and n. 81. 71  The attestations of ‫ משכיל‬in 4QWays of Righteousnessa (4Q420) 2 9 and 4QWays of Righteousnessb (4Q421) 1a ii–b 10 are too damaged for analysis. 72  For the Essene character of 1QSb, see H. Stegemann: Die Essener, Qumran, Johannes der Täufer und Jesus: Ein Sachbuch, Freiburg/Basel/Wien 41994, 163–164. 73  F. García Martínez: The Dead Sea Scrolls Translated: The Qumran Texts in English, Leiden 1994, 433. Cf. M. Wise/M. Abegg/E. Cook: The Dead Sea Scrolls: A New Translation, San Francisco, CA 1996, 149.



Sages and Scribes in the Qumran Literature

287

‫למשכיל לברך את נשיא העדה‬ “For the makl to bless the prince of the congregation.” (1QSb V:20)

Similar to this, but atypical for the Hodayot,74 is the Hodayah which is addressed to the makl in 4QHa (4Q427) 8 ii 10 [par. 4QHb (4Q428) 12 ii 3; 1QHa XX:7 (Ed. Sukenik XII:4)]: ‫ ותפלה‬tGwdwH[h ‫“( למשכיל‬for the makl pr]aise and prayer”).75 As in 1QSb V:20, the purpose of this Hodayah is given immediately after its introductory assignation. The song asks “to bow down and make supplication” at liturgically important times [1QHa XX:7–13 (Ed. Sukenik XII:4–10)]. Again, the word makl designates a liturgical performer. The same Hodayah [1QHa XX:7 ff (Ed. Sukenik XII:4 ff)] provides also the only description of the wisdom of the makl in the Hodayot [1QHa XX:14–16 (Ed. Sukenik XII:11–13) par. 4QHa (4Q427) 8 ii 17–18]: The makl claims to know God through the spirit given to him, to listen to his counsel by God’s holy spirit; God has opened in him G ‫;]פ[תחתה‬ the knowledge of the mystery of his insights [‫לתוכ י דעת ברז שכלכה‬ 1QHa XX:16 (Ed. Sukenik XII:13)]. The wisdom of the makl is thus based on a revelation of God and can be described as privileged if not esoteric knowledge about God’s mysteries. This idea of the privileged knowledge of the makl is also expressed in 1QS IX:13.76 That in the Essene texts from Qumran the phrase addresses a given song to its (liturgical) performer is also evident in a collection of exorcistic songs called Shirot.77 At least some songs of the Shirot are headed by a formula which resembles the one used in the headings of ShirShabb: ‫למשכיל ש[יר‬ ]wHy)ryOm ‫“[ שני לפחד‬For the makl, a sec]ond song to scare away those who terrify[” 4QShirb (4Q511) 8 4; cf. 2 i 1]. In 4QShira (4Q510) 1 4 it becomes even more evident that the ‫ משכיל‬is a liturgical performer who exorcizes demons by praising God: “And I, the makl, proclaim his glorious splendor to scare away and terrify all spirits of the angels of destruction, the bastard spirits, sheddim, lilith” etc. [4QShira (4Q510) 1 4]. The makl is furthermore mentioned in the headings of several nonliturgical Essene texts from the Qumran library: 1QS III:13; 1QM (1Q33) I:1; 4QcryptA Words of the Maskil to All Sons of Dawn (4Q298) 1–2 i 1; 4QSb (4Q256) IX:1 par. 4QSd (4Q258) I:1. The Teaching of the Two Spirits 74 

A similar heading can only be found in 1QHa XXV:34 (Ed. Sukenik 8 10): rw]mGzHm

‫“( למשכיל‬for the makl, a son[g”). But the text is too damaged for further analysis. Recon-

structions of 1QHa V:12 (Ed. Sukenik 15 ia 3) and VII:21 (Ed. Sukenik XV:8 + 10 10) by É. Puech: Quelques aspects de la restauration du Rouleau des Hymnes (1QH), JJS 39 (1988), 38–55, 52–53, suggest that ‫ למשכיל‬might have been used more often in the headings of individual Hodayot. 75  Transcription according to Stegemann: Rekonstruktion, col. 20. 76  Cf Newsom: Sage, 377. 77  Contra K. Koenen: lyk@i#&;m, makl, ThWAT 7 (1990–93), 781–/95, 795. For the Essene character of Shirot, see Lange: Essene Position, 431–433.

288

Armin Lange

(1QS III:13–IV:26) is headed “For the makl, to educate and teach all sons of light about the nature/history78 of all the sons of man.” Although the Teaching of the Two Spirits is a non-Essene79 text, it has been attached to an Essene covenantal liturgy (1QS I:1–III:12) to be celebrated at the feast of weeks in Qumran.80 In this context, it can be speculated that the ascription of the Teaching of the Two Spirits to the makl was added by the Essenes. To educate the festive gathering, the makl would have read the Teaching of the Two Spirits publicly. 4QcryptA Words of the Maskil to All Sons of Dawn (4Q298) 1–2 I 1 shows that the makl taught not only in liturgical contexts. Stephen Pfann has shown that this manuscript is intended as a textbook to teach new members of the community.81 In its heading, the makl is identified as the author/speaker of the Words of the Maskil to All Sons of Dawn: “Word]s of the makl which he spoke to all sons of dawn” [4QcryptA Words of the Maskil to All Sons of Dawn (4Q298) 1–2 I 1]. In lines 1–3, follows an admonition to the students to pay attention to their teacher’s words. But 4QcryptA Words of the Maskil to All Sons of Dawn (4Q298) is so badly damaged that the content and the subject matter of the makl’s teaching cannot be identified. 4QSb (4Q256) IX:1 [par. 4QSd (4Q258) I:1] preserves a heading of the community rule attested in 1QS V–XI which is different from the one preserved in 1QS V:1.82 ‫וזה הסרך לאנשי היחד המתנדבים לשוב מכול רע‬

“And this is the rule for all men of the community, which are willing to turn away from all evil.” (1QS V:1)

‫מדרש למשכיל על אנשי התורה המתנדים להשיב מכל רע‬

“Interpretation for the maškîl about the willing83 men of the Torah to make84 them turn away from all evil.” [4QS d (4Q258) I:1 par. 4QSb (4Q256) IX:1] For the meaning of twdlwt in 1QS III:13, see Lange: Weisheit und Prädestination, 148. For the non-Essene character of the Teaching of the Two Spirits, see Lange: Weisheit und Prädestination, 126–128. 80  See M. Delcor: Das Bundesfest in Qumran und das Pfingstfest, BibLeb 4 (1963), 188– 204, 190. 81  S. Pfann: 4Q298: The Maškîl’s Address to All Sons of Dawn, JQR 85 (1994), 203–235, 224–225; cf. M. Kister: Words of the Maskil to All Sons of Dawn, DJD 20 (1997), 1–30, 17; Hempel: Qumran Sapiential Texts, 292–294. For the Essene character see Lange: Weisheits­ texte, 12. 82  Thus first C. Hempel: Comments on the Translation of 4QS d I, 1, JJS 44 (1993), 127–128, 127. 83  The reading ‫( המתנדים‬4QS d I:1) goes back to a scribal error. The correct reading is ‫( המתנדבים‬cf. 1QS V:1; see also S. Metso: The Textual Development of the Qumran Community Rule [STDJ 21], Leiden 1997, 41; P. Alexander/G. Vermes: Qumran Cave 4 XIX: Serekh Ha-Yahad and Two Related Texts, DJD 26, Oxford 1998, 96). 84  Alexander/Vermes translate ‫ להשיב‬intransitively as “freely pleged themselves” (DJD 26, 95; cf. 96). This use of the hiphil of the root ‫ שוב‬is unusual. In my judgment, ‫ להשיב‬is to be understood as a transitive verb. 78 

79 



Sages and Scribes in the Qumran Literature

289

While 1QS V:1 identifies 1QS V–XI as a community rule for all members of the yaad, an earlier85 version of this text attested in 4QSb.d describes the community rule of 1QS V–XI as an interpretation (of the Torah) which is addressed only to the makl . In this community rule, the subject matter of the makl’s teaching is the halakhah for the willing men of the Torah. Its purpose is to make the willing men of the Torah turn away from all evil. The makl might also be mentioned in the heading of the Essene version86 of the War Scroll (1QM I:1), but the passage is too damaged for any degree of certainty: ‫“( למ]שכיל סרך[ המלכמה‬For the ma[kîl, rule of] war”).87 Should this reconstruction be correct, the eschatological war between the sons of light and the sons of darkness would also be a subject which was taught by the makl. So far, the makl of the Essene community has been identified as a liturgical performer and a teacher. His liturgical functions were widespread and included the praise of God as well as exorcisms. The subjects which the makl taught were equally widespread and reached from halakhah to eschatology and a dualistic worldview. Several passages in D and S manuscripts communicate rules regulating the conduct of the makl. All of them are headed by different versions of the same formula: ‫ואלה החוקים למשכיל‬ “And these are the statutes for the makl” [1QS IX:12 par. 4QSe (4Q259) III:7; CD 12:20–21; 4QDa (4Q266) 5 i 17]

‫ואלה תכוני הדרך למשכיל‬ “And these are the precepts of the way for the makl” [1QS IX:21 par. 4QS d (4Q258) VIII:5 par. 4QS d (4Q258) IV:2]

‫ים למשכיל‬oo‫ואלה הש‬ “And these are the hš ym for the makl” [CD 13:22 par. 4QDa (4Q266) 9 iii 15] oo

The statutes for makl which follow the headings show that next to teaching and performing liturgical functions the makl was also a leader of the community and supervised the integration of new members into the community. Damages to the manuscript hamper the interpretation of CD 13:22 par. 4QDa (4Q266) 9 iii 15; 4QDa (4Q266) 5 i 17, but the two subsequent collection of laws for the makl in 1QS IX:12–21 [par. 4QSe (4Q259) III:7] 85  For the textual development and the different versions of the community rule, see Metso: Textual Development, 69–155. 86  For the Essene and non-Essene versions of the War Scroll, see Lange/Lichtenberger: Qumran, 60–62. 87  For this reconstruction of 1QM I:1, see J. van der Ploeg: Le rouleau de la guerre: Traduit et annoté avec une introduction, STDJ 2, Leiden 1959, 55–56.

290

Armin Lange

and 1QS IX:21–X:8 [par. 4QSd (4Q258) VIII:5; 4QSd (4Q258) IV:2] are representative. The first collection [1QS IX:12–21 par. 4QSe (4Q259) III:7] deals with the duties and responsibilities of the makl. In a long chain of infinitives the tasks of the makl are specified. He teaches insight/knowledge and the statute of the time (1QS IX:13–14). He inspects and peruses the members of the community (1QS IX:14–16). He is the safekeeper of the secret knowledge and the Torah interpretation of the community. And he teaches both secret knowledge and Torah interpretation so that each member may have a perfect conduct (1QS IX:16–21). The second law collection starts with an admonition to hate all things outside of the yaad and to be zealous for the law and for the will of God (1QS IX:21–25). Another admonition requires the praise of God at selected periods during the day and according to the calendar (1QS IX:26–X:8). In 1QS X:8–XI:22, there follows an example for the praise of God. Different from the S material, in CD 12:20–22 only the heading of a law collection concerned with the makl is preserved but not the laws themselves. “CD contains no such list. Instead, the Laws of the Damascus Document contain this announcement of ‫ חוקים‬without any such rules following it … the traditions on the duties of the ‫ משכיל‬have become merged with traditions on the overseer in CD 12–14 in its final form.”88 Such a merging of the laws of the makl and the overseer hints at multiple functions of the makl and his active involvement in the administration of the community beyond teaching and liturgical responsibilities.89 In another community rule, Halakha B,90 the ‫ משכיל‬is mentioned outside of headings or section headings. In this text, the makl is responsible for admonishing members of the community: ‫כח תוכחת משכיל‬wH[‫י‬ “one who is ]admonished by the makl” [4QWays of Righteousnessb (4Q421) 1a ii–b 12]91

88  C. Hempel: The Laws of the Damascus Document: Sources, Tradition and Redaction, STDJ 29, Leiden 1998, 106; cf. idem: Qumran Sapiential Texts, 288–289. 89  Cf. Newsom: Sage, 375; N. Jastram: “Hierachy at Qumran,” in: M. Bernstein/F. García Martínez/J. Kampen (eds.), Legal Texts and Legal Issues: Proceedings of the Second Meeting of the International Organization for Qumran Studies Cambridge 1995, STDJ 23, Leiden 1997, 349–376, 358–361; G. Vermes, The Dead Sea Scrolls in English, Harmondsworth 21975, 22–23. 90  Similar to CD 10:21, 4QHalakha B (4Q264a) I:1 limits the distance which a person is allowed to walk on a Sabbath outside the city walls to 1000 cubits. The halakhic agreement with the Damascus Document indicates an Essene origin for Halakha B. 91  For 4QWays of Righteousnessb (4Q421) as another copy of 4QHalakhah B, see E. Tigchelaar: Sabbath Halakha and Worship in 4QWays of Righteousness: 4Q421 11 and 13+2+8 par 4Q264a 1–2, RevQ 18 (1998), 359–372.



Sages and Scribes in the Qumran Literature

291

One may conclude: the makl was a multi-functional office in the Qumran community and the Essene movement. In liturgical contexts, he sang hymns (1QSb), performed exorcisms (Shir), and recited teachings (Teaching of the Two Spirits). Outside of liturgical contexts, teaching was one of the main functions of the makl and encompassed the education of new members (Words of the Maskil to All Sons of Dawn) as well as the instruction of the members themselves (1QS V–XI in the 4QSb.d-Version). The subject matter of the makl’s teaching was halakhic, eschatological, cosmological, and dualistic in nature. Next to liturgical and pedagogical functions the office of the makl assumed also administrative responsibilities (Halakha B, Damascus Document, 1QS IX:12–21). The wisdom of the makl is based on revelation and is esoteric in nature. It is concerned with the mysteries of God. The makl is thus a functionary92 of the Essene movement with a broad range of responsibilities93 who is distinguished by special insights into God’s mysteries. Scholarly interpretations which reduce the Essene makl to just one function or aspect – such as teacher,94 liturgical performer,95 “a lay member of the sect – knowledgeable about its law,” 96 or a “member of a pious community”97 – do not meet the reality of the ancient Essene office.

‫ מבין‬and ‫נבון‬98

Both the ‫ מבין‬and the ‫ נבון‬are mentioned rarely in Essene literature. And only a few attestations are preserved well enough to allow for analysis. The teacher song99 1QHa X:5–21 (Ed. Sukenik II:3–19) describes a dualistic opposition between the Teacher of Righteousness with his chosen followers on the one hand and his enemies who belong to Belial on the other hand. For the chosen, 1QHa X:20 (Ed. Sukenik II:18) claims: “you (i. e. God) placed it (i. e. understanding) in his (i. e. the ‘Teacher of Righteousness’) heart to open a well of knowledge for all understanding ones (‫)לכול מבינים‬.” In this text, the noun ‫ מבין‬is thus almost synonymous with the members of Contra Hempel: Stellung, 207–208 (private person). Cf. Newsom: Sage, 375. 94  Thus Nötscher: Terminologie, 46; Kosmala: Makîl, 240; Worrel: Concepts, 150–154; Koenen: ThWAT 7, 794. 95  H. Seidel: Lobgesänge im Himmel und auf Erden, in: A. Meinhold/R. Lux (eds.), Gottesvolk: Beiträge zu einem Thema biblischer Theologie, Berlin 1991, 114–124, 119. 96  L. Schiffman: Reclaiming the Dead Sea Scrolls. The History of Judaism, the Background of Christianity, the Lost Library of Qumran, Philadelphia 1994, 124. 97  P. Wernberg-Møller: The Manual of Discipline. Translated and Annotated with an Introduction, STDJ 1, Leiden 1957, 66. 98  1QHa VII:21 (Ed. Sukenik 10 10; ‫ )מבין‬and 4QShirb (4Q511) 96 2 (‫ )נבון‬are too corrupt for analysis. 99  For 1QHa X:5–21 (Ed. Sukenik II:3–19) as a teacher song, see G. Jeremias: Lehrer, 171, 192–201, and Becker: Heil, 55; cf. Morawe: Aufbau, 126–128. 92  93 

292

Armin Lange

the Essene movement to whom the Teacher taught the knowledge revealed to him by God. The same dualistic understanding of the sage is reflected in the two references to ‫ נבון‬in CD 6:2 par. 4QDa (4Q266) 3 ii 10 par. 4QDb (4Q267) 2 8 and 1QSa I:28 which have been discussed above (pp. 285–286).

‫סופר‬

In the Essene texts from Qumran, no references to a scribe can be found. This is all the more surprising as several inkwells were excavated in the Qumran settlement.100

Conclusions 2 In the Essene literature from Qumran, the terms ‫“( חכם‬the wise one”) and ‫“( נבון‬the understanding one”) are used in a similar way as in the nonEssene literature (see e. g. Barkhi Nafshi). While ‫“( סופר‬scribe”) was a rare designation in the non-Essene literature it does not occur at all in the preserved Essene texts, although inkwells found at Khirbet Qumran hint at scribal activity in the Qumran settlement. In speaking of wicked wise ones (‫)חכמים‬, the Hodayot do not use the term ‫ חכם‬as the designation of a sapiential functionary, nor do they deny the existence of righteous wise ones. The same usage is also found in the Damascus Document: without any implication of a specific office, the terms ‫ חכם‬and ‫ נבון‬describe members of the Essene predecessor movement as wise and understanding. Similarly, the participle ‫ יודע‬speaks of the Essenes as “knowledgeable ones” (Damascus Document, 1QSa, War Scroll, Hodayot, Words of the Maskil to All Sons of Dawn), and heavenly beings can also be called ‫( יודעים‬Hodayot). Similar to the use of ‫ חכם‬and ‫נבון‬, in the Hodayot, the term ‫ מבין‬describes the Teacher of Righteousness as a wise teacher who makes the special knowledge accessible to all members of the community who are in turn also described as ‫מבינים‬. In this use of term ‫מבין‬, the Hodayot differ from MLM. That the Essene texts use ‫ חכם‬and ‫ נבון‬in an adjectival sense to describe the wisdom of a given person does not preclude an early eschatological community rule of the Essene movement (1QSa) to designate a community office with the same word. In 1QSa, the terms ‫העדה והנבונים והידעים‬ [‫“( כול ח]כמי‬all wi[se men of] the congregation, the understanding, and the 100  See R. de Vaux: Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls, The Schweich Lectures of the British Academy 1959; reissued with revisions in Eng. translation, London 1973, 29–33, 104; M. Broshi: Inkwells, in: L. Schiffman/J. VanderKam (eds.), Encyclopedia of the Dead Sea Scrolls, Oxford 2000, 1:375.



Sages and Scribes in the Qumran Literature

293

knowledgeable”) and ‫“( חכמי עדת הקודש‬the wise ones of the holy congregation”) name community officials who participate in the present or eschatological assembly of the community. In most of the later Essene texts, this wise community official is called makl. The office of the makl was understood by the Essenes in the pattern of an eschatological and dualistic worldview. As in non-Essene literature, many liturgical songs and didactic texts are addressed to the makl, who was supposed to perform and/or recite them. That there are songs of exorcism among these texts shows that the idea of the magical sage exerted some influence on the Essene community. Next to his liturgical and pedagogical responsibilities, the makl had also halakhic and administrative authority. His authority derived from special insights into God’s knowledge, which were communicated to him by way of revelation. Given the emphasis on the special insights of the makl, it is all the more surprising that Essene texts from Qumran do not reflect the prominence of the divinatory sage in the Aramaic literature from Qumran.

VIII. Scribes, Sages, and Seers and the Transition to Rabbinic Judaism

Günter Stemberger

Sages, Scribes, and Seers in Rabbinic Judaism Introduction The rabbinic teachers consistently refer to themselves as “sages” (‫;)חכמים‬ the search for wisdom is the professed goal of all rabbinic existence. According to this self-definition of the rabbis, the whole of rabbinic literature could be understood as “wisdom literature.” Such an extensive definition of “wisdom” would not be very helpful, since it does not take into account the established understanding of the term in pre-rabbinic Judaism, i. e., in the traditions of the Bible and the First and Second Temple periods. The other approach, frequently to be found in accounts of Jewish wisdom literature, is to consider in this context only one rabbinic writing which most obviously follows the tradition of earlier wisdom texts, i. e. tractate Avot of the Mishnah. This approach is much too narrow, since it does not consider the many texts in rabbinic literature that obviously are also related to the tradition of earlier wisdom writings.1 It would go too far to enumerate and analyze here all textual units that in one way or another deal with “wisdom,” “insight,” or “understanding”. Since for the rabbis as for much of pre-rabbinic literature, wisdom is to be equated with Torah, the outcome would be a comprehensive theology of the Torah, which goes far beyond the scope of this essay. We shall rather concentrate on texts 1  See, e. g., J. Sanders: Wisdom, Theodicy, Death, and the Evolution of Intellectual Traditions, JSJ 36 (2005), 263–277, who claims that “After the Wisdom of Solomon the wisdom tradition pretty much ceased to exist and before long had certainly done so altogether […] the early rabbis were called sages, but they were not purveyors of knowledge and advice encapsulated in proverbs, as were the sages originally; although […] the sayings in the first four chapters of tractate Avot do, indeed, have something of a proverbial character. The rabbis were not, however, engaged in the same enterprise in which Ben Sira was engaged” (276). The following essay obviously takes a much wider approach to wisdom. It is up to the reader to judge how much it is justified.

296

Günter Stemberger

and passages of rabbinic literature that correspond to genres and topics of earlier Jewish writings normally considered to belong to wisdom literature. After a survey of these texts we turn to their tradents and authors, try to place them in their social location, and determine what they have in common with the earlier scribes and what distinguishes them from these scribes. The third component of the title, “seers,” will be dealt with only briefly in the last section, since the apocalyptic tradition receded in rabbinic Judaism for a long time to the background and came to the fore again only on rare occasions and, in general, rather late. The period considered here covers several centuries and ends only with the renewal of a distinct philosophical tradition in Judaism, i. e., with Sa‘adyah Gaon in the tenth century.

Wisdom Texts in Rabbinic Literature Before beginning our survey, mention should be made of a gnomic text known from the Genizah of Cairo, published a century ago by A. Harkavy and S. Schechter. 2 In some aspects this writing closely resembles the thought of Ben Sira, in others it comes close to the skepticism of Qoheleth; parallels with the tractate Avot have also been pointed out. Klaus Berger published the text again with a comprehensive commentary in 1989, considering it to be a writing from the Egyptian diaspora, composed about 100 C. E.3 Only a year later, H.-P. Rüger4 reissued the text and mustered a whole range of arguments to refute Berger’s early date; he himself considers the writing to belong to the medieval musar literature and to be an imitation of much earlier wisdom texts, a judgment which independently has also been reached by Ezra Fleischer who places its author within the context of the poet Sa‘id ben Babshad (tenth to eleventh century).5 In spite of many points of contact with the book of Proverbs, Ben Sira, and to a lesser extent Avot, this interesting text does not belong to our context.

2  A. Harkavy: Contribution à la littérature gnomique, REJ 45 (1902), 298–305; idem: Sarid u-falit mi-sefer mishle musar qadmon, Hamizrach 1 (1903), 108; and S. Schechter: Genizah Fragments. I. Gnomic, JQR 16 (1904), 425–442. 3  K. Berger: Die Weisheitsschrift aus der Kairoer Geniza. Erstedition, Kommentar und Übersetzung, TANZ 1, Tübingen 1989. 4  H.-P. Rüger: Die Weisheitsschrift aus der Kairoer Geniza. Text, Übersetzung und philologischer Kommentar, WUNT 53, Tübingen 1991. 5  E. Fleischer: The Proverbs of Sa‘id Ben Bābshād, Yad Ben-Zvi, Jerusalem 1990 (Hebrew). See also G. Veltri: Mittelalterliche Nachahmung weisheitlicher Texte, in: idem, Gegenwart der Tradition, JSJSup 69, Leiden 2002, 234–263.



Sages, Scribes, and Seers in Rabbinic Judaism

297

The philosophical Mishnah. The Mishnah, which reached closure at the beginning of the third century in the circle of Yehudah ha-Nasi, is the basic halakhic code of rabbinic Judaism. Its legal aspects should not, however, obscure its highly philosophical nature and its indebtedness to wisdom traditions, as has been emphasized time and again by Jacob Neus­ ner.6 Much of the Mishnah is characterized by the continuous effort to organize information in lists: The mode of thought and expression is that of the scribal profession. The Mishnah is a collection of lists, highly organized information. In so far as the definitive trait of a document of trained scribes is the presentation of vast amounts of information in a systematic and orderly way, e. g., through the making of lists, the Mishnah is in prevailing form and fundamental structure a scribal document, an exercise in Listenwissenschaft.7

Typical lists to be found in the Mishnah are the thirty-nine main classes of work forbidden on a Shabbat (mShabbat 7:2), the fifteen categories of women who render their co-wives exempt from halitzah and levirate marriage ­(mYebamot 1:1), the seven kinds of work a wife must perform for her husband (mKetubbot 5:5), the ten degrees of uncleanness in men, and the ten degrees of holiness (mKelim 1:6). Apart from ordering information in vast lists, the Mishnah makes every effort to define its terms, not by offering abstract definitions, but mainly by testing the borders of important expressions. A good case in point is to be found in the list of classes of work forbidden on a Shabbat. Among other items we find “making two loops, weaving two threads, separating two threads […] sewing two stitches […] writing two letters.” It is clear that such minimal activities are not bodily labor. It is never spelled out, but the assumption lying underneath this list is that “work” is a creative activity comparable to the works of creation; in order to be work, its outcome must be something meaningful. Thus one formulates “the general rule: if a man performs work on the Sabbath and his work is enduring he is culpable” (mShabbat 12:1). In the case of writing, two letters are mentioned because they are the minimum required to convey a message. This is clear from the following: If he wrote (the two letters) on the two walls of the house, on the two sides of a tablet, so that they cannot be read with one another, he is exempt. If he wrote one letter as an abbreviation, R. Joshua ben Betera declares him liable, and sages declare him exempt (mShabbat 12:5).8 6  See J. Neusner: Judaism. The Evidence of the Mishnah, BJS 129, Atlanta, GA ²1988; idem: Judaism as Philosophy. The Method and Message of the Mishnah, Columbia, SC 1991; and idem: Jerusalem and Athens: The Congruity of Talmudic and Classical Philosophy, ­JSJSup 52, Leiden 1997. 7  Neusner: Judaism, 241. 8  Translations of rabbinic texts in general follow Jacob Neusner, slightly adapting them where necessary.

298

Günter Stemberger

Important is not the effort invested, but the meaning conveyed by writing. As long as two or even more letters are disconnected and cannot be read together, they do not imply any information, unless a single letter is considered to be an abbreviation which may be understood by its reader. “Work” here becomes something quite different from what is the primary meaning of Exod 20:8–11. For the rabbis too it is, of course, clear that “work” in its common definition is forbidden on the Shabbat, but they go several steps further to clarify what is behind the prohibition and what is decisive in order to consider human activity as “work” in the context of the Bible. Searching for the minimum amount of what still fits a definition, the rabbis continuously explore the gray zones between what is still covered by a certain term and what no longer is included in it. The outcome is a constant search for the essence of everything, something which may expose their efforts to the ridicule of those who do not understand the motivation behind them, but which in reality continues the search of the biblical sage for a deeper understanding of everything. Social and political wisdom is another aspect of the Mishnah fully in line with earlier wisdom traditions. It is mainly in Tractate Sanhedrin of the fourth order of the Mishnah, Neziqin, that the sages try to design an ideal constitution for Israel. This constitution defines the rights of the king who is outside the judicial system: he “can neither judge nor be judged, he cannot act as witness and others cannot bear witness against him” (mSanhedrin 2:2). He may send forth the people to war, but only by the decision of the court of one and seventy. The court limits his rights; but above all he has to submit to the teaching of the Torah: He must write out a scroll of the Law for himself. When he goes to war, he takes it out with him; when he comes back, he brings it back with him; when he is in session in court, it is with him, and when he is reclining, it is before him, as it is said, And it shall be with him, and he shall read in it all the days of his life (Deut 17:19) (mSanhedrin 2:4).

In the same way, rights and duties of the High Priest as the other principal representative of the people of Israel are defined. But the main interest of the tractate is the delineation of the judicial system: different courts of law are competent according to the importance of the cases they have to decide, and the ways they question the witnesses and reach their decisions and the kind of penalties they are to mete out are handled in detail. The most important principle is in dubio pro reo; there is no conviction without clear proofs and a clear majority of the judges. The attention to all this is astonishing when considering the fact that at the time of the redaction of the Mishnah the Jews had no state of their own. King and high priest were institutions of a distant past, and there were no Jewish courts that were allowed to deal with any but the most trivial cases. Nonetheless, in



Sages, Scribes, and Seers in Rabbinic Judaism

299

this situation of complete lack of earthly power and of submission under Roman rule, the rabbis thought of devising an ideal system in correspondence with Biblical law and their own expectations of an ideal society. The search for an ideal society includes plans for a stable economic structure. Here again the Sages try to design an order, the realization of which was largely outside their sphere of influence. They keep to the biblical notion that the owner of the land of Israel is God; every Jewish household has its share in the land and thus becomes God’s partner, sanctifying the land and its produce by subjecting all agriculture to a sacred rhythm of time and using its produce according to strict rules, sharing part of it with the community and the poor. There is no unproductive ownership. Investment in land held fallow and absentee landownership of vast properties are regarded as undesirable. The vision of an ideal situation where everybody gets and keeps his due share determines also the Mishnaic idea of the market. This view insists on an equivalence of exchange without any risk of loss, because the rabbis imagine that there is something like a “true” price of everything, an inherent value not subject to market mechanisms: Essentially, the Mishnah’s authorship aimed at the fair adjudication of conflict, worked out in such a way that no party gained, none lost, in any transaction. The task of Israelite society, as they saw it, is to maintain perfect stasis, to preserve the prevailing situation, to secure the stability of not only relationships but status and standing.9

This search for a just order of the world, a world that maintains its harmony or at least periodically renews it, is precisely what L. Perdue describes as an important element in the wisdom tradition: “This paradigm of order served as the hermeneutic by which the sages arranged and interpreted the data, events, and experiences of reality. Knowledge consisted of the search for and observation of the order underlying the cosmos, society, and human nature.”10 The characteristics of the Mishnah that we have highlighted are fully in line with the general intentions and tendencies of older wisdom literature; its literary form, however, most of the time is quite different from that of traditional wisdom literature and thus tends to obscure the common intellectual tradition. But there are also many sayings in the Mishnah that by form and content would not surprise us in any older wisdom writing, as the few following examples will illustrate. The misogynous tradition of some wisdom writings seems to be echoed in the following sayings: J. Neusner: The Mishnah. Social Perspectives, HdO 1. Abteilung 46, Leiden 1999, 137. L. Perdue: Cosmology and the Social Order in the Wisdom Tradition in: J. Gammie/L. Perdue (eds.), The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, Winona Lake, IN 1990, 457–478, 459. 9 

10 

300

Günter Stemberger

R. Eliezer says: Whoever teaches Torah to his daughter teaches her sexual satisfaction.   R. Joshua says: A woman wants a qab [of food] with sexual satisfaction more than nine qabs with abstinence.   He used to say: A foolish saint, a smart knave, an abstemious woman, and the blows of abstainer (perushim), lo, these wear out the world (mSotah 3:4).

Other sayings about women are to be found in the context of the ruling that a woman who at marriage brings servants into the household is dispensed from certain kinds of work otherwise expected from her. This is challenged by R. Eliezer: Even if she brought him a hundred slave girls, he forces her to work in wool, for idleness leads to unchastity. Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel says: … idleness leads to boredom (mKetubbot 5:5).

This advice not to let one’s wife spend her time without any useful occupation sounds like a piece of popular psychology. In the long run, these sayings were understood as underlining a woman’s right to work even outside her home. Well within the context of traditional wisdom sayings and their emphasis on the close relationship between observing the commandments and striving for right conduct and wellbeing is the following passage: Whoever does a single commandment – they do well for him and lengthen his days. And he inherits the Land. And whoever does not do a single commandment – they do not well for him and do not lengthen his days. And he does not inherit the Land.   Whoever has learning in Scripture, Mishnah, and right conduct will not quickly sin […] And whoever does not have learning in Scripture, Mishnah, and right conduct has no share in society (mQiddushin 1:10).

Apart from the attribution of the following sayings to named teachers, the following long passage on the ideal trade and the search for wisdom/Torah as the ultimate goal in life would equally fit well into older wisdom collections where also the generalizing derogatory remarks on certain trades and professions would not surprise: R. Meir says: A man should always teach his son a clean and easy trade. And let him pray to him to whom belong riches and possessions. For there is no trade which does not involve poverty or wealth. For poverty does not come from one’s trade, nor does wealth come from one’s trade. But all is in accord with a man’s merit.   R. Simeon b. Eleazar says: Have you ever seen a wild beast or a bird who has a trade? Yet they get along without difficulty. And were they not created only to serve me? And I was created to serve my Master. So is it not logical that I should get along without difficulty? But I have done evil and ruined my living.   Abba Gorion of Sidon says in the name of Abba Gurya: A man should not teach his son to be an ass driver, a camel driver, a barber, a sailor, a herdsman, or a shopkeeper. For their trade is the trade of thieves.



Sages, Scribes, and Seers in Rabbinic Judaism

301

  R. Judah says in his name: Most ass drivers are evil, most camel drivers are decent, most sailors are saintly, the best among physicians is going to Gehenna, and the best of butchers is a partner of Amalek.   R. Nehorai says: I would lay aside every trade in the world and teach my son only Torah. For a man eats its fruits in this world, and the principal remains for the world to come. But other trades are not that way. When a man gets sick or old or has pains and cannot do his job, lo, he dies of starvation. But with Torah it is not that way. But it keeps him from evil when he is young, and it gives him a future and a hope when he is old (mQiddushin 4:14).

Tractate Avot. This tractate that most likely was added to the Mishnah some time after its redaction and continued to grow until the Middle Ages has always been considered to be the quintessence of the “wisdom of the fathers.”11 It consists of five chapters containing a chain of tradition from Moses to the end of the Tannaitic period and combines the maxims of these teachers (ch. 1–2), other wisdom sayings in the name of these and other teachers (ch. 3–4), and anonymous numerical sayings (ch. 5). A sixth chapter, Qinyan Torah (“the acquisition of the Torah”), was only added later for the use of this text in the synagogue. Were it not for the attribution of most of the sayings contained in Avot to named masters, most of the sayings in the tractate would easily fit the earlier biblical and postbiblical wisdom literature. For this reason, a number of scholars have studied the tractate within the context of earlier wisdom literature:12 In the most obvious link, Avot cites and paraphrases passages from earlier Hebrew wisdom […] the hallmark of Hebrew wisdom, the bipartite proverb, leaves many traces throughout Avot. The Avot proverbs are terse and, in proper wisdom tradition, they employ literary techniques such as riddles, numerical sayings, lists, anadiplosis, dialogue and metaphor. In short, since Avot expresses traditional wisdom themes by means of artistic literary forms, the tractate belongs to the literary genre of Jewish wisdom.13

Many of the sayings in Avot are in the form of aphorisms or proverbs and follow the same rhetorical techniques that are so typical of wisdom texts. In 4:19 we even find a saying in the name of Samuel the Small that in reality 11  See, for example, the title of a book by J. Goldin: The Living Talmud: The Wisdom of the Fathers and its Classical Commentaries, New American Library, New York 1957. The most commonly used title of the work, Pirqe Avot, “Chapters of the Fathers”, should be reserved for the textual version contained in the prayer book and not be used for the tractate as found in the Mishnah, although the differences are not very great. 12  See, e. g., M. Küchler: Frühjüdische Weisheitstraditionen, OBO 26, Fribourg/Göttingen, 1979, 176–198; and I. Gottlieb: Pirqe Abot and Biblical Wisdom, VT 40 (1990), 152–164. 13  A. Tropper: Wisdom, Politics, and Historiography – Tractate Avot in the Context of the Graeco-Roman Near East, Oxford Oriental Monographs, Oxford 2004, 61. See Tropper: Wisdom, 32–87, and Gottlieb: Pirqe Abot, for detailed descriptions of the literary techniques and the artistic prose of Avot.

302

Günter Stemberger

is simply the text of Prov 24:17: “Rejoice not when your enemy falls, and let not your heart be glad when he is overthrown.” In general, however, Avot prefers tripartite sayings instead of the binary parallelism so typical of Proverbs. For tripartite wisdom sentences (with verbs in the indicative mood) see, e. g., 1:2: “On three things does the world stand: On the Torah, on the Temple service, and on deeds of loving kindness.” Its parallel in 1:18 which with 1:2 forms an inclusio of the chapter, reads: “On three things does the world stand: On justice, on truth, and on peace.” As an example for a tripartite wisdom instruction (in the imperative mood) we may quote the very first saying of the tractate, attributed to the men of the Great Assembly: “Be prudent in judgment. Raise up many disciples. Make a fence for the Torah” (1:1). Very common in Avot are different forms of parallelism, again preferably in triadic form, as, e. g., in 1:6: “Set up a master for yourself. And get yourself a fellow-disciple. And give everybody the benefit of the doubt.” The third leg in the parallelism is normally a very general statement, not closely connected with the thought expressed by the two preceding parts; at least in some cases it may be a secondary addition. Because of the attributions of most sayings to named masters, Avot has frequently been compared with Greek collections of chreiai where attributions are common. The chreia is a witty saying preceded by a brief narrative context. The genre is closely related to wisdom sayings and is to be found also in rabbinic literature.14 Although the sayings in Avot in general are somewhat different from typical chreiai, 2:6 is a good example of this genre: “(Hillel) saw a skull floating on the water and said to it: Because you drowned others, they drowned you, and in the end those who drowned you will be drowned.” The idea that no crime will go unpunished, is, of course, very common in the wisdom tradition. A final example of the literary forms found in Avot is the riddle presented in 4:1: “Who is a sage? He who learns from everybody […] Who is strong? He who overcomes his desire […] Who is rich? He who is happy in what he has […] Who is honored? He who honors everybody” (the biblical proof-texts, rather uncommon and perhaps secondary in this type of text, have been omitted). We find the sequence wise-strong-rich already in Jer. 9:22, which our saying might have used and expanded. However, there are also very close parallels in Stoic paradoxa.15 The choice of topics common in Avot will not surprise anybody acquainted with biblical wisdom literature. There are above all many general rules pertaining to how a wise man behaves in this world. “Love work. 14  See H. Fischel: Rabbinic Literature and Greco-Roman Philosophy: A Study of Epicurea and Rhetorica in Early Midrashic Writings, SPB 21, Leiden 1973; C. Hezser: Die Verwendung der hellenistischen Gattung Chrie im frühen Christentum und Judentum, JSJ 27 (1996), 371–439. 15  See Fischel: Rabbinic Literature, 70–73.



Sages, Scribes, and Seers in Rabbinic Judaism

303

Hate authority. Don’t get friendly with the government” (1:10). “Be wary of the government, for they get friendly with a person only for their own convenience” (2:3). “Pray for the welfare of the government. For if it were not for the fear of it, one man would swallow his fellow alive” (3:2). “Do not despise anybody and do not treat anything as unlikely. For you have no one who does not have his time, and you have nothing that does not have its place” (4:3). Other wise counsel takes the form of questions: “If I am not for myself, who is for me? And when I am for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?” (1:14). The bias against women so frequent in wisdom literature is not absent from Avot. In the following saying it is embedded in a more general distance the wise man has to keep from the preoccupations of the world: “More flesh, more worms; more wealth, more contention; more maidservants, more lewdness; more slaves, more theft; more women, more witchcraft; more Torah, more life” (2:7). The search for Torah and wisdom is a topic that pervades the whole tractate. “Let your house be a gathering place for sages. And wallow in the dust of their feet. And drink their words with thirst” (1:4). “If there is no Torah, there is no worldly occupation, if there is no worldly occupation, there is no Torah. If there is no wisdom, there is no reverence; if there is no reverence, there is no wisdom. If there is no knowledge, there is no understanding, if there is no understanding, there is no knowledge. If there is no flour, there is no Torah, if there is no Torah, there is no flour” (3:17). For the theme of the right path to choose, 2:1 may serve as example: “What is the straight path which a person should choose for himself? Whatever is an honor to him that follows it and is an honor to him before men.” Another topic that predominates, is the secret of human existence, its origin and its end: Reflect upon three things and you will not fall into the clutches of transgression: Know from whence you come, whither you are going, and before whom you are going to have to give a full account of yourself. From whence do you come? From a putrid drop. Whither are you going? To a place of dust, worms, and maggots. And before whom you are you going to give a full account of yourself? Before the King of kings, the Holy One blessed be he (3:1).

In metaphoric language the topic comes up again in 3:16: All is handed over as a pledge, and a net is cast over all the living. The store is open, the shopkeeper gives credit, the account-book is open, and the hand is writing. The collectors go round continually every day and exact from man whether he knows it or not. And the judgment is a true judgment. And everything is ready for the meal.

The time of redaction and the original purpose of this small tractate is not easily to be determined. Most commonly the text is seen as contemporary

304

Günter Stemberger

with or slightly later than the Mishnah. A. Tropper considers the text to come from the circle of R. Yehudah ha-Nasi and to be an original part of the Mishnah; he thinks that Avot from the beginning was intended to serve as an elementary textbook to be learned by heart in school and to introduce young adults into the world of the Mishnah, but also as a text that even the expert with wisdom “might contemplate and attempt to realize in his behaviour and thoughts.”16 The literary form of the tractate is certainly well adapted to memorization. But if Avot really had been a basic text of the rabbinic movement, learned by heart in the schools, its sentences should have been quoted much more frequently and exactly already in the early Amoraic period; its typical phrases should have influenced the rabbinic language much more than in reality was the case. For this reason it seems more likely that the text as we have it has grown over a long period and has reached its popularity only in the early Middle Ages when it was introduced into the prayer-book.17 A commentary on and expansion of tractate Avot, although in a version not always identical with the text to be found in the Mishnah, is Avot deRabbi Nathan (ARN) which has been edited in two different recensions, A and B (a simplification of a more complicated manuscript tradition). The work in its different recensions is to be dated somewhere between the fifth and the eighth centuries. Apart from the sayings known from Avot and the direct commentary thereon we find here much additional material, a great part of which can be classified as wisdom literature. Especially expanded is Avot 5, consisting of enumerations (ten sayings by which the world was created, ten trials of Abraham, ten things created on the eve of Sabbath, seven things in an uneducated man and seven things in a wise man, etc.). In ARN A, enumerations and lists comprise chapters 31–41, in B chapters 36–48. As in Avot, part of the new items is derived from the Bible (ten names of praise for God and ten names of contempt for idolatry, ten dotted passages in Scripture, ten descents and ten ascents of the Shekina, etc.), others are associated with Jerusalem and the Temple, with types of human behavior, etc. Many such lists are not numbered, as, e. g., the long list of ARN A 31 that follows the statement that God “created in man whatever he created in his world,” and enumerates almost thirty correspondences between the world and the human body. Such enumerations and lists are an old device of all wisdom traditions, trying to organize all kind of knowledge, to frame and fix it and thus to master it.18 Tropper: Wisdom, 187. See G. Stemberger: Mischna Avot. Frühe Weisheitsschrift, pharisäisches Erbe oder spätrabbinische Bildung? ZNW 96 (2005), 243–258. 18  For details see A. Saldarini: Scholastic Rabbinism. A Literary Study of the Fathers According to Rabbi Nathan, BJS 14, Chico, CA 1982. For a more general study of the tractate see J. Schofer: The Making of a Sage. A Study in Rabbinic Ethics, Madison, WI 2005. 16 

17 



Sages, Scribes, and Seers in Rabbinic Judaism

305

Derekh Eretz Literature. Closely related with traditional wisdom literature are some of the Minor Tractates that traditionally are printed at the end of the order Neziqin of the Babylonian Talmud, but also exist in independent editions and translations. Most important among them are Derekh Eretz Rabbah (DER) and Derekh Eretz Zutta (DEZ). Both of them contain many sayings of the earliest rabbinic sages, but have grown over the centuries and in the form in which we know them are certainly post-Talmudic. Derekh Eretz, literally translated “the way of the earth,” means “rules of life;” these tractates consist of collections of such rules.19 As van Loopik writes: In general, the tractates of Derekh ’Eretz contain gnomic statements, i. e. sharply formulated statements of wisdom, and practical rules. One can determine a great resemblance in style with the Book of Proverbs, Sepher ben Sira, Sophia Salomonis and Pseudo-Phokylides. One must not forget, however, that the rules of Derekh ’Eretz are much less universal statements of wisdom and much more concrete rules of conduct, tied to very specific human situations, and much like the ones found in the halakhah. 20

The first two chapters of Derekh Eretz Rabbah (on illicit marriages and different classes of people) are absent in some manuscripts. The main text comprises ch. 3–9 and 10 (on behaviour in the bathhouse) and 11 (rules for one’s wellbeing and health and benedictions to be said on certain occasions). The wisdom sayings of DER 3 have much in common with ARN; 4–9 are mainly rules of behavior, as, e. g., 4:3: “How does a man honor his master? When both walk together on the way, he places him on his right and not on his left. When three (walk together), the sage goes in the middle, the greater one (of the other two) on his right and the lesser one on his left.” Other rules concern the right way to eat and drink (6:9), how to behave in a privy (7:6) or when visiting other people (8:2 and 9:7), or how to extend an invitation (8:6). Derekh Eretz Zutta is a collection of mostly anonymous sayings addressed to sages, urging self-examination and modesty; some manuscripts offer the text of DEZ 1–4 and 9 under the title Yir’at Het, “fear of sin.” Some of its sayings are very close to those of Avot and its supplement in chapter 6, as e. g. 2:9: “Learn to take on you all the words of the Torah in affliction and do not resent an insult directed to you.” Others are without any direct parallel, as for example: “Whatsoever exists in this world, I have no desire for it, because this world does not belong to me” (DEZ 1:2), 19  For a translation of and commentary on these tractates see M. van Loopik: The Ways of the Sages and the Way of the World. The Minor Tractates of the Babylonian Talmud: Derekh ‘Eretz Rabbah, Derekh ‘Eretz Zuta, Pereq ha-Shalom. Translated on the basis of the manuscripts and provided with a commentary, TSAJ 26, Tübingen 1991. 20  Loopik: The Ways, 8.

306

Günter Stemberger

or: “Know the difference between today and tomorrow, in connection to what is yours and to what is not yours” (2:12). DEZ 11 is also transmitted as a separate tractate under the name Pereq ha-Shalom. As its name says, it is a short composition with sayings about peace. The Alphabet of Ben Sira. One more text has to be mentioned that comes from the fringes of rabbinic literature. It is commonly called the “Alphabet of Ben Sira” although this covers only two parts of the whole for which “The Tales of Ben Sira” would be a more fitting title. 21 It most likely was written in Babylonia in the ninth or tenth century. In its present composition, above all because of its introductory part, it is best understood as a satire on the Bible and rabbinic religiosity, but large parts stand within the classical tradition of biblical wisdom. Not only is Ben Sira the hero of the book; many of its sayings are quotations or adaptations of traditional texts (the textual tradition is very fluid and many sayings differ from one manuscript to another). In the study session with his teacher, the one year old Ben Sira comments on each letter of the alphabet that he is taught with a proverb, mostly derived from the books of Ben Sira or Proverbs or from Avot. These sayings deal with topics such as the right wife to choose, the preoccupations of a father of several daughters, right contacts or also the final judgment, all topics known from wisdom literature. In the next part, the young Ben Sira is at Nebuchadnezzar’s court and answers the latter’s questions about the peculiarities of animals or the trees in the king’s garden (a list of thirty trees in three groups of ten according to their qualities), but also questions of proper political conduct, medical treatment, and the like. Ben Sira here acts as the typical wise courtier: part of his answers are in the form of parables or fables. He is able to solve all the riddles proposed to him by the king and is richly recompensed for his wisdom. In the last part of the book, Ben Sira’s son and grandson, Uzziel and Joseph ben Uzziel, comment on twenty-two Aramaic proverbs in the name of Ben Sira. The book was very popular in the Middle Ages as the many surviving manuscript versions show; it may be regarded as a last transformation of the biblical wisdom tradition, adapting the genre to contemporary tastes and popular entertainment, but still maintaining so many old values that it could appeal to tradition-minded readers as well. In general, however, the time of classical wisdom literature now belonged to the past; its place was taken over by philosophical tractates, ethical (musar) literature, and other 21  The book has been published several times in different versions. For a critical edition based on all manuscripts and accompanied by a thorough introduction and studies of its most important topics see E. Yassif: The Tales of Ben Sira in the Middle Ages. A Critical Text and Literary Studies, Jerusalem 1984 (Hebrew). Translation: N. Bronznick: The Alphabet of Ben Sira, in: D. Stern/M. Mirsky (eds.), Rabbinic Fantasies. Imaginative Narratives from Classical Hebrew Literature, Yale Judaica Series 29, New Haven 1998, 167–202.



Sages, Scribes, and Seers in Rabbinic Judaism

307

genres as, e. g., books of fables (the best known example are the Mishle shualim, the “Fox Fables,” of R. Berechia ha-Naqdan, 12th–13th century).

Wisdom Genres and Themes in Rabbinic Literature Apart from a number of rabbinic writings that as a whole or at least to a considerable extent may be considered as wisdom literature, smaller units of wisdom traditions and literary genres are scattered over the rabbinic literature, inserted into larger contexts not directly related to wisdom. The following paragraphs survey the most important texts. Proverbs. The most important single genre of wisdom literature is the proverb. It is also well represented in talmudic literature; in the Bavli the popular proverb is most frequently introduced by the formula “this is what people say” and formulated in Aramaic. Very similar in style, but to be differentiated from the proverb are gnomic sayings (sententiae), in Hebrew or Aramaic, attributed to specific rabbis who adapt popular wisdom to a religious context and innovate. 22 Frequently rabbis ask how rabbinic sayings or popular proverbs are confirmed by Scripture. A long series of such questions is collected in bBaba Qamma 92a–93a; we quote only the first few items: Said Raba to Rabbah bar Mari: How on the basis of Scripture do we know that which our rabbis have said: He who prays for mercy for his fellow when he himself needs the same thing will be answered first? He said to him: ‘And the Lord changed the fortune of Job when he prayed for his friends’ (Job 42:10) […]   Said Raba to Rabbah bar Mari: How on the basis of Scripture do we know that which people say: The cabbage is smitten along with the thorn? He said to him: ‘Wherefore will you contend with me, you all have transgressed against me, says the Lord’ (Jer 2:29) […]   Said Raba to Rabbah bar Mari: How on the basis of Scripture do we know that which people say: Poverty follows the poor? He said to him: We have learned in the Mishnah: ‘The rich bring their first fruits in baskets of silver and gold. But the poor bring them in baskets made of peeled willow branches […]’ (mBik 3:8) […]   Said Raba to Rabbah bar Mari: How on the basis of Scripture do we know that which people say: Get up early in the morning to eat breakfast, in the summer because of the heat, and in the winter because of the cold; and people say, even sixty men may chase him who has early meals in the mornings but they will not overtake him? He said to him: ‘They shall not hunger nor thirst; neither shall the heat nor sun smite them’ (Isa 49:10) […]

22 

See Y. Fraenkel: Darkhe ha-aggadah we-ha-midrash, Giv‘ataim 1991, 395–434.

308

Günter Stemberger

A similar collection is found in bSanhedrin 7a: There was a man who kept saying: Happy is one who hears [something] and remains indifferent. A hundred evils pass him by. Said Samuel to R. Judah: A verse of Scripture is written: ‘He who lets out water causes the beginning of judgment’ (Prov 17:14) […]   There was a man who kept saying: For two or three acts of theft, the criminal is not put to death. Said Samuel to R. Judah: There is a pertinent verse of Scripture […] (Amos 2:6).   There was a man who kept saying: There are seven pits open for the good man, but one suffices for an evil-doer. Said Samuel to R. Judah: There is a pertinent verse of Scripture […] (Prov 24:16).

Here again the text continues with several additional items. We should perhaps distinguish between the anonymous proverbs quoted in the first text and the wise sayings attributed to a single man in this text; the procedure of the rabbis remains the same – they find confirmation of popular wisdom in the Bible; they no longer just collect it but reflect on it and find it in agreement with revelation. A series of gnomic sayings attributed to individual rabbis is to be found in Tosefta Berakhot 3:4: (R. Aqiva) used to say: One in whom mankind delights, God delights. One in whom mankind does not delight, God does not delight. One who is content with his own portion, it is a good sign for him. One who is not content with his own portion, it is a bad sign for him.   Ben Azzai says: One who is confused about daily matters on account of his wisdom, it is a good sign for him. If his wisdom was confused by his [preoccupation with] daily matters, it is a bad sign for him.   He used to say: One who became physically infirm on account of his [preoccupation] with wisdom, it is a good sign for him. One who became mentally infirm on account of his preoccupation with worldly matters, it is a bad sign for him.

What distinguishes these and similar sayings from popular proverbs, is not only the Hebrew language, but above all the explicitly religious concerns and the group interests behind them; but their highly polished style and generalized formulation of certain values definitely connects them with older wisdom traditions. Wisdom sayings. Although there are many collections of proverbs and gnomic sayings, they essentially stand on their own or come at most in pairs. But there are also larger units dealing with topics traditional in wisdom literature. One topic frequently dealt with is the question how to reach ripe age: R. Zakkai’s students asked him: Through what have you attained long life?   He said to them: In my lifetime, I never urinated within four cubits of prayer; and I never called my fellow a nickname; and I never missed the Qiddush of the (Sabbath) day […]



Sages, Scribes, and Seers in Rabbinic Judaism

309

  R. Eleazar ben Shamua’s students asked him: Through what have you attained long life?   He said to them: In my lifetime, I never took a shortcut through the synagogue; and I never trod on the heads of the holy people; and I never raised my hands without a blessing.   R. Pereidah’s students asked him: Through what have you attained long life?   He said to them: In my lifetime, no one ever preceded me at the academy; and I never recited a blessing before a priest; and I never ate from an animal whose gifts were not removed […]   R. Nehuniah ben HaQaneh’s students asked him: Through what have you attained long life?   He said to them: In my lifetime, I was never honored through my fellow’s embarrassment; and my fellow’s curse never followed me to bed; and I was generous with my money (bMegillah 27b–28a).

As is typical of the rabbinic use of traditional topics, here too the rabbis adapt it to their own concerns. The way to long life is not to be found in dietary rules, but rather in a behavior patterned on the ideals of rabbinic life. Only the last unit has general validity even outside the context of Judaism. A similar mixture of specifically Jewish and common values is to be found in the following excerpt from a collection of rabbinic mottos: A pearl in R. Meir’s mouth: Learn with all your heart and with all your soul to know my ways and to attend upon the entries of my Torah. Keep my Torah in your heart and let awe of me be before your eyes. Keep your mouth from every sort of sin, purify and sanctify yourself from all guilt and transgression. Then I shall be with you everywhere.   A pearl in the mouth of the rabbis of Yabneh: I am mortal and so is my fellow. But my labor is in town, and his is in the field. I get up early to do my work and he gets up early to do his work. Just as he does not infringe upon my work, so I do not infringe upon his work. And perhaps you might suppose that I do much and he does little? We have learned to repeat: All the same is the one who does much and the one who does little, so long as a person directs his heart to Heaven.   A pearl in the mouth of Abbayye: A person should always be subtle [in finding ways to] fear [Heaven]. ‘A soft answer turns away anger’ (Prov 15:1). One should increase peace with his brethren and relatives and everyone, even with a gentile in the marketplace, so that he may be beloved above and pleasing below and accepted by people […] (bBerakhot 17a).

Numerical sayings and lists. Another way of arranging common wisdom is in the form of numerical sayings, frequently arranged in lists. The following example offers excerpts from a list of stereotyped judgments on Israel and different nations; it is frequent that such lists are not completely unified, but include disparate items as well, in this case common prejudices against women and slaves:

310

Günter Stemberger

Ten qabs of wisdom came down into the world, nine were taken by the Land of Israel, and one by the rest of the entire world.   Ten qabs of beauty came down into the world, nine were taken by Jerusalem, and one by the rest of the entire world.   Ten qabs of wealth came down into the world, nine were taken by the earliest Romans, and one by the rest of the entire world.   Ten qabs of poverty came down into the world, nine were taken by Babylonia, and one by the rest of the entire world […]   Ten qabs of strength came down into the world, nine were taken by the Persians, and one by the rest of the entire world […]   Ten qabs of witchcraft came down into the world, nine were taken by Egypt, and one by the rest of the entire world.   Ten qabs of sores came down into the world, nine were taken by pigs, and one by the rest of the entire world.   Ten qabs of fornication came down into the world, nine were taken by the Arabs, and one by the rest of the entire world […]   Ten qabs of gossip came down into the world, nine were taken by women, and one by the rest of the entire world.   Ten qabs of drunkenness came down into the world, nine were taken by Ethiopians, and one by the rest of the entire world.   Ten qabs of sleep came down into the world, nine were taken by slaves, and one by the rest of the entire world (bQiddushin 49b).

Another example of a group of numerical sayings, here arranged in an ascending order, is to be found in bPesahim 113b: Our rabbis have taught on Tannaite authority:   There are three who love each other: converts, slaves, and ravens.   There are four who are intolerable: a poor man who is arrogant, a wealthy man who flatters, an old man who is lecherous, and a leader who without cause lords it over the community […]   Five things did Canaan command his sons: love one another, love thievery, love lewdness, hate your masters, and don’t tell the truth.   Six things were said about a horse: he loves promiscuity, loves battle, is proud, hates sleep, eats a lot and defecates a little […]   There are seven who are excommunicated by Heaven, and these are they: a Jew without a wife; one who has a wife but no children; one who has children but doesn’t raise them in the study of the Torah; one who has no phylacteries on his head or on his arm, no fringes on his garment, no mezuzah on his door; and one who won’t put shoes on his feet […].

Here again we find a mixture not only of incongruous items (ravens) and prejudices against other nations, but also of common sense (the group of four) and of genuinely Jewish values (the group of seven). The inclusion of ravens implies a negative value judgment against slaves and converts, as does the inclusion of the horse after Canaan (in the preceding list note the pigs between Egypt and Arabs). The main uniting principle is the



Sages, Scribes, and Seers in Rabbinic Judaism

311

numerical arrangement; a certain surprise element in the decision of what to include is typical of the genre. The rabbinic redactor did not mind combining popular “wisdom” with his own values; they do not seem to be incompatible. 23 Parables, fables and riddles. Although not dominant in biblical wisdom, in later literature parables become one of the most common genres of wisdom literature. Mainly because of the interest of New Testament scholars, rabbinic parables, too, have been intensely studied. 24 Many rabbinic parables offer a short story about a king, others are taken from daily life as the following example: They drew a parable. To what may the matter be compared? To one who was walking in the way and a wolf attacked him, but he was saved from it. He would continually relate the incident of the wolf. Later a lion attacked him, but he was saved from it. He forgot the incident of the wolf and would relate the incident of the lion. Later still a serpent attacked him, but he was saved from it. He forgot the other two incidents and would continually relate the incident of the serpent.   So, too is the case for Israel: the recent travails make them forget about the earlier ones (Tosefta Berakhot 1:11).

Although there are cases where the persons and details of the story are then equated with persons and details of the listeners’ own experience, in general the story as a whole illuminates religious truths and experiences; in its pregnancy it is easily remembered and contributes to a better understanding. The art of telling parables is considered to be highest wisdom, its loss is a sign of the degeneration in the course of history as the saying about R. Meir demonstrates: “When R. Meir died, makers of parables came to an end” (mSotah 9,15). “When R. Meir would give a public lecture, he would speak one third of the time on traditions [of law], a third on lore, and a third on parables. And said R. Yohanan, R. Meir had three hundred parables of foxes, and of all of them we have only three” (bSanhedrin 38b). Of R. Yohanan ben Zakkai it is said “that he never in his life left off studying Mishnah, Gemara, laws and lore…the speech of the ministering angels, the speech of spirits, the speech of palm-trees, fullers’ parables and fox fables, great matters and small matters” (bSukkah 28a) – a 23  For a thorough introduction to the rabbinic use of numerical sayings and its roots in biblical wisdom literature see W. Towner: The Rabbinic “enumeration of scriptural examples.” A study of a Rabbinic pattern of discourse with special reference to Mekhilta D’R. Ishmael, SPB 22, Leiden 1973. An early study of rabbinical numerical sayings is A. Wünsche: Die Zahlensprüche in Talmud und Midrasch, ZDMG 65 (1911), 57–100, 395–421; 66 (1912), 414–459. 24  Only some recent titles: J. Neusner: Rabbinic Narrative. A Documentary Perspective, Vol. IV, BRLJ 17, Leiden 2003, 109–225; D. Stern: Parables in Midrash. Narrative and Exegesis in Rabbinic Literature, Cambridge, MA 1991; C. Thoma: Die Gleichnisse der Rabbinen, 4 vols. (JudChr 10, 13, 16, 18), Bern 1986–2000 (1–2 together with S. Lauer, 3–4 with H. Ernst).

312

Günter Stemberger

catalogue of what the perfect rabbinic sage is supposed to know (cf. 1 Kgs 5:12–13 of Solomon). The Hebrew word for proverb, parable and fable is the same, mashal. Fables may be regarded as a special form of parables with animals as their actors. 25 A well known example is found in R. Aqiva’s answer to his disciple who tries to persuade him to give up the study of the Torah in order to save his life: He said to him, I shall show you a parable. What is the matter like? It is like the case of a fox who was going along the river and saw fish running in swarms from place to place.   He said to them, Why are you running away? They said to him, Because of the nets people cast over us. He said to them, Why don’t you come up on dry land, and you and I can live in peace as my ancestors lived in peace with yours? They said to him, Are you the one they call the cleverest of all wild beasts? You are not clever, you’re a fool. Now if in the place in which we can live, we are afraid, in a place in which we perish, how much the more so [we fear]! (bBerakhot 61a).

Many fables in rabbinic literature have their direct parallels in Aesop’s fables as has been noted long ago; many of them must have been so well known that only allusions are left;26 more fables are supplied in Rashi’s commentary on the Talmud (e. g. on bBerakhot 39a) and may reflect an older textual tradition of the Bavli. They all illustrate rabbinic values or biblical sayings in a way that is entertaining and easily understood; although frequently not “popular” traditions in the strict sense, they reflect old wisdom traditions. Rabbinic sages in dispute with the wise men of the nations. Many rabbinic stories depict rabbis in dialogue with non-Jewish dignitaries and philosophers, with the Roman emperor or with the matrona, the stereotype of the educated Roman lady interested in Judaism. The following example is intended to answer a popular objection to the biblical story of the creation of woman: Said the emperor to Rabban Gamaliel, Your God is a thief, for it is written, ‘And the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam, and he slept, and he took one of his ribs’ (Gen 2:21).   [The emperor’s] daughter said to him, Let me answer him. She said to [the emperor], Give me an officer! He said to her, What do you need him for? – Thieves invaded us last night and stole a silver goblet and left a gold one. He said to her, Would that they should come invade us every day! 25  See A. Singer: Animals in Rabbinic Teaching: The Fable, Diss. Jewish Theological Seminary, New York 1979. 26  See S. Friedman: The Talmudic Proverb in Its Cultural Setting (Hebrew), JSIJ 2 (2003), 2–82 (http://www.biu.ac.il/JS/JSIJ/‑2003/Friedman.pdf), on two fables in the Babylonian Talmud.



Sages, Scribes, and Seers in Rabbinic Judaism

313

  And was it not good for the first Man, that one rib should be taken for him, and a serving maid should be given to him to serve him? He said to her, What I meant to say only was that he should have taken [the rib] from him in public.   She said to him, Bring me a piece of meat. They brought it to her. She put it in her armpit and then took it out and said to him, Eat a piece of this.   He said to her, It disgusts me. She said to him, And with the first man too, if she had been taken from him in full light of day, she would have been disgusting to him.

All these stories tend to demonstrate the superiority of biblical traditions and of Jews who know their Torah, over pagan wisdom. By virtue of their possession of the Torah, even in daily affairs they are superior even to the most highly praised pagan philosophers, the people of Athens: An Athenian came to Jerusalem and wanted to learn wisdom. He worked for three and a half years and had learned nothing. When he came to leave, he bought a slave, blind in one eye. The one who had sold the slave said to him, “By your life, he is very clever and can see at a distance.”   When they had come out of the gate, the slave said to him, “Make haste, so we may overtake the caravan.” He said to him, “Is there a caravan before us?” He said to him, “Yes, and there is a she-camel in front of us, blind in one eye; it has twins in its womb; it is carrying two skin bottles, one with wine, the other, vinegar; it is four miles away, and the camel driver is a gentile.”   He said to him, “How do you know that it is blind in one eye?” “Because one side of the path has been grazed by the camel, but not the other.”   “How do you know that it has twins in the womb?” “It lay down, and I saw the traces of two.”   “How do you know that it is carrying two skin bottles, one with wine, the other, vinegar?”   “From the drippings. The ones of wine are absorbed in the ground, those of vinegar ferment.”   “How do you know that the camel driver is a gentile?” “He pissed in the middle of the road. A Jew would go off to one side.”   “And how do you know that it is four miles away?” “Up to four miles you can make out the mark of the camel’s hoof, but not beyond” (Lamentations Rabbah 1,1,12).

The story insists that even the most humble, unlearned Jew is superior to a wise Athenian, as demonstrated in the interpretation of profane observations (as a sideline, the Jews also know to behave better than the gentiles). It is part of a long chain of similar stories to be told on the ninth of Av, the anniversary of the destruction of the Temple, in order to comfort Israel: it is now despised in the eyes of the nations, but in reality it is still superior because of the gift of the Torah. 27 27  On the function of these tales in Lamentations Rabbah, see G. Hasan-Rokem: Web of Life: Folklore and Midrash in Rabbinic Literature, Stanford 2000.

314

Günter Stemberger

Medical knowledge and magic; interpretation of dreams. For lack of space, other fields of traditional wisdom prominent in rabbinic literature must be dealt with even more briefly. Popular medical knowledge, frequently not easily distinguished from magic, is well represented in the Babylonian Talmud. The following example is taken from a larger collection of medical recipes: For night blindness one takes a string made of white hair and ties with it one of his own legs to the leg of a dog, and children should rattle potsherds behind him, saying, Old dog, stupid cock. He should take seven pieces of raw meat from seven houses and put them on the doorpost and let the dog eat them in the rubbish dump of the town. Then he should untie the string and they should say, Blindness of Mr. So-and-so, son of Mrs. Such-and-such, and they should blow into the dog’s eye (bGittin 69a).

The rabbis make efforts to distinguish between forbidden practices, the “ways of the Amorites,” and permitted medical traditions; the effectiveness of the cure decides whether it is allowed or not. Many parallels known from Pliny the Elder demonstrate how much such rabbinic texts are bound up with non-Jewish traditions of antiquity. 28 Another topic common in wisdom literature is the interpretation of dreams. 29 In the same way as Joseph and Daniel in the Bible demonstrate their wisdom in their ability to interpret dreams, some rabbis are experts in the field, although not without criticizing extreme claims regarding the influence of dreams; they are also well aware of the competition of professional gentile interpreters of dreams, denounced as charlatans. Parts of handbooks of oneiromancy, again with many parallels in traditions of the Ancient Near East and in Hellenistic dream books, have been preserved in the Palestinian (Ma‘aser Sheni IV,9,55b–c) and the Babylonian Talmud (Berakhot 55a–57b).30 There are many more aspects of wisdom traditions in rabbinic literature. They have never been collected and analyzed in a systematic way, differentiating between the biblical heritage and its transformations and other, non-biblical, traditions. It would also be necessary to highlight the special contribution of the Babylonian Talmud which certainly not by chance for many aspects offers the best examples. There is a wide field for further studies on wisdom. 28  See G. Veltri: Magie und Halakha: Ansätze zu einem empirischen Wissenschaftsbegriff im spätantiken und frühmittelalterlichen Judentum, TSAJ 62, Tübingen 1997. 29  J. Gammie: From Prudentialism to Apocalypticism, in: J. Gammie/L. Perdue (eds.), The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East, Winona Lake, IN 1990, 479–497, esp. 482–483. For the wider context see: F. Flannery-Dailey: Dreamers, Scribes, and Priests. Jewish Dreams in the Hellenistic and Roman Eras, JSJSup 90, Leiden 2004. 30  See M. Niehoff: A Dream which is not Interpreted is like a Letter which is not Read, JJS 43 (1992), 58–84; and P. Alexander: Bavli Berakhot 55a–57b: The Talmudic Dreambook in Context, JJS 46 (1995), 230–248.



Sages, Scribes, and Seers in Rabbinic Judaism

315

The social context of the rabbis as teachers of wisdom As stated at the outset, the rabbis saw themselves as wise men, ‫חכמים‬, and their study of the Torah as the only way to true wisdom. How did this self-understanding relate to their activities and in what context did they work? A full answer to these questions would imply a history of the rabbinic movement in Palestine and Babylonia.31 A few remarks must suffice. It should also be underlined from the beginning that not all wisdom traditions in rabbinic texts can be traced back to the rabbis – they did not have a monopoly on wisdom. The rabbis are traditionally understood as the direct heirs of the Pharisees who after the tragedy of the year 70 C. E. in the absence of other Jewish authorities took over the leadership of the Jewish people and were transformed from one, although dominant, group among others in Second Temple Judaism into the only spiritual leaders of the people. Historical reality is much more complex as has frequently been stated in recent years. Some of the small group at Yavneh may have been former Pharisees, others perhaps scribes without affiliation with any of the religious parties before 70 C. E.; if we may judge from the dominating interests of the Mishnah, priests must have formed an important part of the early rabbinic movement. The composition of the group suggests that the wisdom traditions handed on and developed in it must also have had a very multiform background. With the destruction of the Temple and the loss of the last remnants of a Jewish government, Temple or government scribes were no longer needed and disappeared as a special profession and as privileged tradents of wisdom. Those who needed the money for their services were more or less absorbed in the humbler groups of copyists and writers of documents. Scribes in the wider meaning as specialists in the interpretation of Scripture may, to some extent, have joined the rabbinic movement, but as a group they disappear. Scribal schools are never mentioned in rabbinic literature. Some rabbis, as R. Meir, are said to have copied Torah scrolls; but the rabbinic texts also deal with Torah scrolls copied by Samaritans or minim. There was no institution that controlled the production of holy texts or of every-day documents; everybody who was able to offer such services and needed the payment offered for them, could do it. Rabbis played no particular role in this field. 32 Most of the Palestinian rabbis never had any formal authority. They taught the few students who chose to study with them, and cultivated their 31  For Palestine, we have the magisterial study of C. Hezser: The Social Structure of the Rabbinic Movement in Roman Palestine, TSAJ 66, Tübingen 1997. For Babylonia, see J. Neusner: Talmudic Judaism in Sasanian Babylonia. Essays and Studies, SJLA 14, Leiden 1976; and J. Rubenstein: The Culture of the Babylonian Talmud, Baltimore 2003. 32  See C. Hezser: Jewish Literacy in Roman Palestine, TSAJ 81, Tübingen 2001.

316

Günter Stemberger

own, mostly inner-rabbinic, networks. Some of them may have been recognized by part of the people as charismatic personalities expert in Jewish traditions and have been asked for their advice and guidance. All the influence they had depended on their ability to attract students and on their personal recognition as learned men. Only with the rise of the patriarchate at the end of the second century did some of them find employment at the court of the patriarch, in his rudimentary administration or in his school. From the early third century onward, a growing number of rabbis also accepted positions as teachers and preachers in local Jewish communities or served on local law courts, arbitrating all kind of litigations, which the people preferred not to bring before the formal Roman courts. On occasion they may also have served as scribes, writing documents or letters for the great majority of the population who were not able to write. In Babylonia the situation was not very different. Palestinian rabbis who came to Babylonia as refugees in the years of the Bar Kokhba rebellion and the repression that followed it seem to have founded the rabbinic movement in Babylonia. Under the Parthian rulers the Jewish community apparently enjoyed a great degree of autonomy; already in the second century the exilarch was recognized as its official head. A number of rabbis were employed in the exilarch’s administration; this gave them the chance to put into practice at least part of their views regarding Jewish law. When around 226 C. E. the government of Babylonia passed to the Sassanid Persians, a centralized government with Zoroastrianism as state religion did away with Jewish autonomy and religious freedom; but by 250 both were recognized again by the new rulers. Rabbis thus took a more active part in daily Jewish life and its government, but most rabbis here as well had no official position and were private Torah scholars as were their colleagues in Palestine. They exerted no particular influence on the life of the communities and the synagogue. Except perhaps at the court of the exilarch, they taught only small groups of disciples; well organized rabbinic academies arose only after the advent of Islam. There certainly was no single setting in which rabbis handed on their wisdom traditions. Even for the tractate Avot we cannot claim that it was used as a textbook and learned by heart in school; rabbis only rarely served as teachers in elementary schools. We should rather think of informal settings such as conversations at home or on the road, but also of wisdom traditions handed on together with other subjects in the small circles of disciples.33 Where rabbis occasionally preached in synagogues or partici33  The inner-rabbinic context is also emphasized by van Loopik: The Ways, 6, regarding the rules of life found in the tractates of Derekh ‘Eretz: They “have functioned notably in circles of Torah scholars. The major part of these rules originated from these circles and have not been popularised and started to function in wider circles until later.”



Sages, Scribes, and Seers in Rabbinic Judaism

317

pated in local law courts, they may also have transmitted such traditions. In smaller communities, rabbis frequently were the only educated people and as such were predestined to teach, formally or informally, those interested not only in biblical and halakhic traditions, but also in a more universal and general wisdom as we find in many rabbinic texts. We may assume that other people, too, participated in creating and proliferating wisdom traditions – popular preachers, itinerant merchants, school teachers and scribes, local elders and the like. But only those traditions came down to us, which the rabbis cared to preserve in their writings. They took up and transformed in accordance with their own values whatever they found of interest in popular wisdom, as the introductory formula of most proverbs clearly shows: “As the people say.” The rabbis follow the rule attributed to Ben Zoma: “Who is wise? One who learns from every person” (mAvot 4:1). We may also assume that many of the lists with judgments on other nations or on different classes of people derive from a non-rabbinic context and have only been adapted to the contexts of rabbinic literature. Although some rabbis were known as medical experts, most medical recipes certainly derive from all kinds of medical practitioners and writers of amulets and magic spells. Some of them may have been women as may be deduced from a group of traditions introduced in the Babylonian Talmud with the formula: “Mother told me.”34 In a few of them, Ravina is told by his mother about the halakhic practice of his father. But most sayings thus introduced are transmitted in the name of Abbaye. Many of them are popular recipes against diverse kinds of illnesses, as a series concerned with health problems of infants (bShabbat 133b–134a); others deal with the proper form of incantations. Sometimes we can only guess at their precise meaning when they are quoted without necessary context, as, e. g. the following: “Three things stop an illness, five things cure it, seven work even against witchcraft” (bShabbat 66b); other such sayings are practical rules or popular proverbs (bMo’ed Qatan 18b). In bKetubbot 50a recipes for a sixyear old bitten by a scorpion and a one-year old stung by a bee are preceded by the rule: “At six to Scripture, ten to Mishnah, thirteen to a complete fast of twenty-four hours, and, for a girl, at twelve.” One wonders why a rabbi for this rule should have to rely on a woman. But it is clear that at least to some extent women are recognized as experts in certain aspects of halakhah and especially in popular wisdom.35

See Veltri: Magie, 230–238. On Beruriah and other wise women in Talmudic tradition see T. Ilan: Integrating Women into Second Temple History, TSAJ 76, Mohr, Tübingen 1999, 175–194. 34  35 

318

Günter Stemberger

Seers and their literature in rabbinic Judaism Traditional wisdom includes not only knowledge based on this-worldly experience and the keen observation of daily life; there are also aspects that link it to the prophetic tradition and apocalypticism.36 Apocalyptic traditions are still present in rabbinic writings, but recede into the background. 37 When the rabbis speak of the general deterioration at the end of human history (mSotah 9:15), they seem to speak out of their own pessimistic world view; their knowledge of the signs of the coming end is, first of all, based on their interpretation of Scripture. Visionary experiences as the basis of a rabbi’s knowledge about the beginnings or the end of the world are obtained not as the result of a heavenly journey, but from a fantastic journey through the desert or to the bottom of the sea.38 Only from the end of the rabbinic period, in the decades preceding the advent of Islam in Palestine, until the Crusades, do we find again apocalypses as independent writings, most important among them Sefer Zerubbabel from the early seventh century.39 This apocalypse is ascribed to Zerubbabel, the descendent of the house of David, who organized the rebuilding of the Temple (Zech 4:6–10). In a vision he sees the end of the times, two messianic figures and their adversary, Armilus, patterned after Emperor Heraclius, and the final restoration of Jerusalem and the return of all Israel. The events of the tumultuous first half of the seventh century, when Jerusalem was conquered by the Persians, then reconquered by Heraclius and finally taken by the Arab troops, are the clearly recognizable background of the apocalypse. The language and the ideas of the writing are traditional, but not typically rabbinic; the author may not have belonged to the rabbinic establishment. His work became, however, popular enough to be immediately reused in liturgical poetry. Heavenly journeys as a way to gain insight and wisdom are important in another group of writings, the Hekhalot literature. These writings about the “throne halls” or heavenly “palaces” prepare or describe the mystical ascent through the seven heavens and the seven throne halls to God’s throne chariot (merkavah); most of these texts end with the participation 36  See J. Collins: The Sage in the Apocalyptic and Pseudepigraphic Literature, in: J. Gammie/L. Perdue (eds.), The Sage, 343–354; reprinted in Seers, Sybils and Sages in Hellenistic-Roman Judaism, JSJSup 54, Leiden 1997, 339–350; and idem: Cosmos and Salvation: Jewish Wisdom and Apocalypticism in the Hellenistic Age, in Seers, Sybils, and Sages, 317–338. 37  See G. Stemberger: Das Fortleben der Apokalyptik in der rabbinischen Literatur, in: A. Vivian, (ed.), Biblische und Judaistische Studien (FS Paolo Sacchi), Frankfurt a. M. 1990, 335–347. 38  G. Stemberger: Münchhausen und die Apokalyptik. Baba Batra 73a–75b als literarische Einheit, JSJ 20 (1989), 61–83. 39  Translation: M. Himmelfarb, in: Stern/Mirsky, (eds.), Rabbinic Fantasies, 67–90. For a general survey see G. Stemberger: Jüdische Apokalyptik in Spätantike und Mittelalter, in: Jahrbuch der Oswald von Wolkenstein Gesellschaft 13 (2001/02), 11–28.



Sages, Scribes, and Seers in Rabbinic Judaism

319

of the mystic in the heavenly liturgy. On God’s throne he sees the letters with which the world was created and thus obtains a profound understanding of the secrets of creation. Central to many of these texts is the adjuration of the Sar Torah, the “Prince of the Torah,” sometimes also called the “Prince of Wisdom,” who is asked to bestow on the mystic the full understanding of the Torah so that he will not forget it any more, and to reveal the deepest of secrets and mysteries. The visionary prays: May I discourse in the gates of wisdom, and may I examine the ways of understanding, and may I gaze into the chambers of Torah, and may I discourse in the storehouses of blessing, and may they be stored for me. For wisdom is before You.40

The dating of the Hekhalot texts is still much discussed. Gershom Scholem dated the major texts to the Talmudic period; recent research emphasizes the instability of their textual tradition and accepts for certain only that macro-forms of Hekhalot Rabbati and Zutrati were in circulation no later than the tenth century.41 Who were the people responsible for these texts is also still an open question. Scholem and others point to the prominent role of many early rabbis in these texts and see them basically as a branch of rabbinic literature; for others, these texts are the product of a popular Jewish culture – the adjuration of the Sar Torah would be an attempt to reach perfection in Jewish learning without investing years of study. But the knowledge of biblical and rabbinic traditions revealed in the Hekhalot literature shows that their authors were not at all uneducated people. They may not have belonged to the rabbinic class in the strict sense, but still were close enough to it so that their writings were later read and handed on by great rabbinic scholars. The emphasis on priestly traditions and interests and on aspects of the liturgy in so many texts may also point to the importance of descendents of priestly families in these circles. Traditions and interests from different layers of the Jewish community are combined in this literature; the people behind it aspire to knowledge of the Torah in its entirety, to a profound understanding of the secrets of this and the heavenly world, to wisdom in its fullest meaning. Wisdom literature in the rabbinic world is no longer what it used to be in biblical and Second Temple times. It is no longer a clearly distinguished separate literary genre with a well defined agenda. But many of its forms, traditions, and themes have been handed on and transformed in these centuries and would deserve a more profound study. 40  P. Schäfer (ed.), Synopse zur Hekhalot-Literatur, TSAJ 2, Tübingen 1981, § 569. Translation M. Schwartz: Scholastic Magic. Ritual and Revelation in Early Jewish Mysticism, Princeton NJ 1996, 229. 41  P. Schäfer: Übersetzung der Hekhalot-Literatur II, TSAJ 17, Tübingen 1987, XX–XXI.

Contributors Bendt Alster is Professor of Sumeriology in the Institut for Tværkulturelle og Regionale Studier (ToRS), Det Humanistiske Fakultet, Københavns Universitet, Copenhagen, Denmark. Andreas Bedenbender is member of the editorial office of “Texte & Kontexte” and teaches New Testament at the Ruhr-Universität Bochum, Germany. Katharine Dell is Senior Lecturer in the Faculty of Divinity, University of Cambridge, and Fellow of St. Catharine’s College, Cambridge, England. Victor Avigdor Hurowitz is Professor in the Department of Bible, Archaeology, and Ancient Near Eastern Studies, Ben Gurion University of the Negev, Beer-Sheba, Israel. Michael Kolarcik, S. J., is Associate Professor of Old Testament at Regis College, Toronto School of Theology, Ontario, Canada. Ingo Kottsieper teaches Old Testament at the University of Münster and works as a scholar at the Forschungsstelle Qumran-Wörterbuch at the Academy of Sciences in Göttingen, Germany. Reinhard G. Kratz is Professor of Old Testament in the Theological Faculty of Göttingen University, Germany. Armin Lange is Professor of Second Temple Judaism in the Institute of Jewish Studies, The Faculty of Historical and Cultural Studies, Vienna University, Austria. Ignacio Márquez Rowe is Tenured Researcher in the Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, CSIC: Instituto de Lenguas y Culturas del Mediterráneo y Oriente Próximo, Madrid, Spain. Manfred Oeming is Professor of Old Testament in the WissenschaftlichTheologisches Seminar at Heidelberg University, Germany. Leo G. Perdue is Professor of Old Testament, Brite Divinity School, Texas Christian University, Fort Worth, Texas, USA. Friederich V. Reiterer is Professor of Old Testament at the Theological Faculty, Department of Bible and Church History, Salzburg University, Austria.



Contributors

321

Konrad Schmid is Professor of Old Testament and Early Judaism at the University of Zurich, Switzerland. Thomas Schneider is Professor in the Department of Classical, Near Eastern and Religious Studies at the University of British Columbia, Vancouver, Canada. Choon-Leong Seow is Henry Snyder Gehman Professor of Old Testament Language and Literature, Department of Biblical Studies, Princeton Theological Seminary, Princeton, New Jersey. Günter Stemberger is Professor of Judaism in the Institute of Jewish Studies, The Faculty of Historical and Cultural Studies, Vienna University, Austria.

Abbreviations ÄAT AB ABD ADOG AfO AJSL AnBib ANETS AnOr ANTZ AOAT AOS ArOr AS ASJ ASOR ATSAT BAKG BASOR BBB BETL BHT Bib BiKi BiTod BJS BN BO BRLJ BT BThSt BWANT BZ BZAW BZNW CANE CBOTS CBQ CBQMS CiVi CLV COS CR: BS CStP

Ägypten und Altes Testament Anchor Bible Anchor Bible Dictionary Abhandlungen der deutschen Orientgeschellschaft Archiv für Orientforschung American Journal of Semitic Languages and Literature Analecta Biblica Ancient Near Eastern Texts with Supplement Analecta Orientalia Arbeiten zur Neutestamentlichen und Zeitgeschichte Alter Orient und Altes Testament American Oriental Series Archiv Orientální Assyriological Studies Acta Sumerologica American Schools of Oriental Research Arbeiten zu Text und Sprache im Alten Testament Beihefte zum Archiv für Kulturgeschichte Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research Bonner Biblische Beiträge Bibliotheca ephemeridum theologicarum lovaniensium Beiträge zur historischen Theologie Biblica Bibel und Kirche The Bible Today Brown Judaic Studies Biblische Notizen Bibliotheca orientalis Brill Reference Library of Judaism The Bible Translator Biblisch-Theologische Studien Beiträge zur Wissenschaft vom Alten und Neuen Testament Biblische Zeitschrift Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft Civilizations of the Ancient Near East Coniectanea Biblica. Old Testament Series Catholic Biblical Quarterly Catholic Biblical Quarterly Monograph Series Città di Vita Collection Lumière et vie The Context of Scripture Currents in Research: Biblical Studies Collectánea San Paciano

DJD EdF EI FRLANT GAT HBS HdO HDR HS HSM HSS HTKAT HTR HUCA HUCM ICC IEJ JANES JANESCU JAOS JARCE JBL JCS JJS JNES JNSL JQR JSHRZ JSIJ JSJ JSJSup JSOTSup JSPS JSPSup JSS KBANT LAI Leš MoBi MVAG MVS NABU NBL NIB NTOA OBO OGL OLA OLZ OTE OTL

Abbreviations

323

Discoveries in the Judean Desert Erträge der Forschung Eretz-Israel Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments Grundrisse zum Alten Testament Herder Biblische Studien Handbuch der Orientalistik Harvard Dissertations in Religion Hebrew Studies Harvard Semitic Monographs Harvard Semitic Studies Herders Theologischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament Harvard Theological Review Hebrew Union College Annual Hebrew Union College Monographs International Critical Commentary Israel Exploration Journal Journal of the Ancient Near Eastern Society Journal of the Ancient Near Eastern Society of Columbia University Journal of the American Oriental Society Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt Journal of Biblical Literature Journal of Cuneiform Studies Journal of Jewish Studies Journal of Near Eastern Studies Journal of Northwest Semitic Languages Jewish Quarterly Review Jüdische Schriften aus hellenistisch-römischer Zeit Jewish Studies, an Internet Journal Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic, and Roman Period Journal for the Study of Judaism Supplements Journal for the Study of the Old Testament: Supplement Series Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha: Supplement Series Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha: Supplement Series Journal of Semitic Studies Kommentare und Beiträge zum Alten und Neuen Testament Library of Ancient Israel Lešonénu Monde de la Bible Mitteilungen der Vorderasiastisch-ägyptischen Gesellschaft Materiali per vocabolario sumerico Nouvelles assyriologiques breves et utilitaires Neues Bibel-Lexikon The New Interpreter’s Bible Novum Testamentus et Orbis Antiquus Orbis biblicus et orientalis Ons Geestelijk Leven Orientalia lovaniensia analecta Orientalische Literaturzeitung Old Testament Essays Old Testament Library

324 PÄ PTMS RA RB REJ RHR RLA SAAB SAAS SAK SAOC SBLASP SBLDS SBLEJL SBLMS SBS SBT SCSt SJ SJLA SNVAO SPB StBL STDJ SUNT TAD TAPhS Teh ThPQ ThSt ThWAT Trans TSAJ TUAT TZ UF VDM VT VTSup VWGTh WMANT WO WUNT ZA ZÄS ZAW ZDPV ZKTh ZTK

Abbreviations Probleme de Ägyptologie Pittsburg Theological Monograph Series Revue d’assyriologie et d’archéologie orientale Revue biblique Revue de études juives Revue de l’histoire des religions Reallexikon der Assyriologie State Archives of Assyria Bulletin State Archives of Assyrian Studies Studien zur Altägyptische Kultur Studies in Ancient Oriental Civilization Society of Biblical Literature Abstracts and Seminar Papers Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series Society of Biblical Literature Early Judaism and its Literature Society of Biblical Literature Monograph Series Stuttgarter Bibelstudien Studies in Biblical Theology Septuagint and Cognate Studies Series Studia judaica Studies in Judaism in Late Antiquity Skrifter utgitt av Det Norske Videnskaps-Akademi i Oslo Studia post-Biblica Studies in Biblical Literature Studies on the Text of the Desert of Judah Studien zum Umwelt des Neuen Testament Textbook of Aramaic Documents from Ancient Egypt Transactions of the American Philosophical Society Theologische Existenz heute Theologische-praktische Quartalschaft Theologische Studiën Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Alten Testament Transeuphratène Texte und Studien zum antiken Judentum Texte aus der Umwelt des Alten Testaments Theologische Zeitschrift Ugarit-Forschungen Vie diocésaine. Bulletin du diocèse de Malines Vetus Testamentum Vetus Testamentum Supplement Veröffentlichung der Wissenschaftlichen Gesellschaft für Theologie Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament Die Welt des Orients Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament Zeitschrift für Assyriologie Zeitschrift für ägyptische Sprache und Altertumskunde Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft Zeitschrift des deutschen Palästina-Vereins Zeitschrift für katholische Theologie Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche

Index of Biblical Texts Hebrew Bible Genesis 1 1–11 1:31 2–3 2:21 3 4–11 4:10 5:21–24 6 6:1–4 9:20–27 11:6 12:1–4 12:10 12:10–20 18:1 25:8 25:14 31–50 35:29 40 40:8 41 41:8 41:15 f 41:38 41:42 Exodus 3:2 3:4 18:21 18:25 19 ff 19:10 f 19:15 f 20:8–11 22:3 22:8 24:18 34:16 34:28

268 135 n.47 268 135 n.47 312 135 n.47 135 n.47 268 16 268 259, 268 98 8 n.10 16 209 279 168 151 128 n.21 138 151 143 261 n.11 143 143 261 n.11 278 84 168 168 285 285 170 168 168 298 152 152 168 183 168

Leviticus 4:3

173 n.30

Numbers 16 16:1–50 21:6 21:6–9

267 255 8 n.10 255

Deuteronomy 1:9–18 4 5 7:3 9:9 17:19 18:3 22:21 28:35

285 161 170 183 168 298 8 n.10 151 151

Joshua 1:8 7:15 22:13 Judges 8:14 19:2–24 20:6 20:10 Ruth 1:1–2 4:4 4:9

277 n.28 151 173 n.30 132 151 151 151 209 8 n.10 8 n.10

1 Samuel 2:8 2:27 8:11–18 16:1 28

80 168 132 132 131 n.33

2 Samuel 5:10 7

132 133

13:12 14 14:20 20

151 131 132 n.38 130, 131, 134

1 Kings 1:25 173 n.30 2 130, 134 3 125 3–11 133, 137 3:1–15 253 3:13–14 143 4:1–6 133 n.42, 137 4:1–19 134 4:3–31 137 4:20–28 138 n.54 4:22–28 134 4:29–34 125, 133 4:30–31 17 4:32–34 [Heb 5:12–14] 125 n.2 5:1–18 134 5–8 125 5:1–14 100 5:9–14 99, 125 5:10 125 5:12–13 312 6 136 6:2–10 134 n.44 6:15–38 134 n.44 7:1–12 134 n.44 7:13–47 134 n.44 9:10–14 134 9:15–19 134 n.44 9:20–33 134 n.44 10:13 133 10:14–29 134 n.44 11–12 138 n.54 2 Kings 4:8 8:1–3 12:10 15:1–16:4 15:6 19:14

132 209 136 137 137 84

326 22 22:3 25:18–21

Index of Biblical Texts 5, 140, 141 129 n.26 164

1 Chronicles 1:30 2:55 5:40–41 15:14 15:22 21:1 25:7–8 25:8 26:30–32 27:32 28:9

128 n.21 129 n.26 164 173 n.30 274 151 274 274 136 n.50 136 n.50, 274 274 n.18

2 Chronicles 1 3–36 3:17 17:9 21–33 26:5 29–32 34:12 35–36 35:3

253 174 167 n.10 8 n.9 137 274 n.18 137 274 171, 176 274 n.18, 275

Ezra 1–3 172 n.29 1–4 171 1–6 174 n.34, 176, 182, 183, 187 1–7 176 1–10 171, 175 1:1–11 171, 185 2 174 2:1–4:5 171 2:2 173, 173 n.32, 174 n.33 2:63 173, 174 n.33, 176 3:2 167 n.10 3:8 167 n.10 4 174 n.34, 183 4:7–24 171 4:13 202 4:20 202 5:2 167 n.10 7 164, 172 n.29, 176, 181, 184 7–8 181–184, 184 n.60, 185 7–10 172, 172 n.29, 173, 180, 182, 184

7–18 183 7:1 182, 182 n.56 7:1–5 164, 180 7:1–6 182 7:6 163, 164, 167, 167 n.18, 168, 172, 172 n.29, 173 n.31, 181, 182 n.56, 182 n.57, 184, 185, 186, 224, 224 n.29 7:6 f 169 7:8 182 n.56 7:10 163, 168, 181, 182 n.57, 184, 186 7:10 f 167, 172 n.29 7:11 163, 168, 168 n.21, 172, 173 n.31, 181, 182 n.57, 184 7:12 163, 167, 168, 172, 173 n.31, 180, 181, 182, 182 n.57 7:12–26 172 n.29 7:14 167, 180, 184 7:15 184 7:20 184 7:21 163, 173 n.31, 180– 182, 182 n.57 7:23 181 7:24 202 7:25 167, 180, 184 7:25 f 180 7:27–28 181, 183 8 184 8:1 181 8:1 ff 169 8:2 181 8:4 181 8:9 181 8:13 181 8:16 274 8:33–34 181 8:36 181 9–10 164, 180–182, 182 n.56, 183, 184, 184 n.60 9:1–2 181 9:49 173 10 167, 171, 172, 185 10:3 184, 185 10:8 181, 184 10:10 163, 181, 183 10:14 181, 184 10:16 163, 180–184

10:44 14

172 169

Nehemiah 1 184 1–6 177 1–7 171 1–12 187 1–13 173, 174, 182 1:1–7:4 177 3:16 173 n.32 5 177 5:3–5 209 5:15 202 6:15 177 6:16 177 6:16–7:4 177 7–8 176 7–10 177, 179 7–13 177 7:7 173 7:72–8:12 171 7:65 173 7:72 176 8 164, 167, 171, 172, 172 n.29, 173–176, 180–182, 182 n.56, 185, 275 8:1 163, 173 n.31, 176 8:1–18 179 8:2 275 8:2–3 275, 276, 282 8:3 275 8:4 163, 173 n.31 8:7 275, 276, 282 8:8 173 n.31, 275 8:9 163, 173, 173 n.31–n.33, 174 n.33, 176, 179 n.47, 276, 282 8:9–12 172 8:10 173 n.33 8:12–13 176 8:13 163 8:13 ff 184 8:13–18 171 9–13 171 10 164 10:2 173 n.32 10:29 274 10:31 185 11–12 185 11–13 177 12–13 185



Index of Biblical Texts

12:1 164, 167, 167 n.10 12:2 167 n.10 12:13 164 12:26 163, 180, 185 12:27 ff 185 12:27–43 177 12:36 163, 180, 185 13:15–16 198 13:20 198 Job 2 2:7 3–41 3:8 3:14 3:16 4:1–15 4:1–16 4:12 4:12–17 4:13 4:16 4:17 6:4 6:17 6:18 6:21 7 7:1–19 7:16 7:19 7:21 8:10 8:11–12 8:17 9:1–16 9:9 10:8–11 11:12 15:4 19:2–24 19:19 20:2 21:23 21:29 26:14 28 28:6 29–31 29:10 32–37 38–41

152 151 150 n.35 150 n.37 146 192 152 152 152 152 152 152 152 147 147 146 147 152 152, 153 152 152 152, 153 151 150 n.31 147 150 n.39 150 n.36 150 n.40 146 150 n.37 147 146 152 146 146 152 143, 145 n.2, 147 147 142 149 145, 145 n.2 150 n.41, 152

38:31 40:1–28 40:15 ff 42:8 42:10 42:17

150 n.36 150 n.37 150 n.31 151 151, 307 151

Psalms 1 156, 157, 161 1–41 161 1:1 154 1:2 277 n.28 2:12 154 8 156 8:7 152, 153 9 155, 157 10 155, 157 12 157 15 157 15:25 155 18:18 152 18:25 152 19 156, 157 22 159 25 155 25:8–10 157 25:11–14 157 27 159 32 157 32:1 f 154 33:12 154 33:15 274 n.18 34 155, 157 34:9 154 35:10 155 36 157 37 155, 156, 157, 161 37:11 156 37:16 154 37:30 158 39 152, 156 39:4–6 156 39:5–7 157 39:9 152 39:12 152, 156 39:14 152, 153 41:2 154, 156 42 155 42–72 161 43 155 44[45]:2 167 n.18 49 154, 157, 161 49:4[5] 140 n.64, 154, 158

327 49:5 155 49:20 192 50 157 50:5 154 50:7 155 51:4 152 51:7 152 51:8 158 51:9 152 51:12 152 52 157, 161 53 157 58:9 192 59:8 233 n.63 62:12 154 65:5 154 72 157 73 155, 157, 161 73–89 161 78 157, 233 78:2 233 82 157 84:5 154 84:6 154 84:13 154 89 161 89:16 154 90 156, 157 90–106 161 91 156, 157 92 157 94 157 94:4 233 n.63 94:19 152 103 155 104 156 106–107 161 106:3 154 107 157 107–150 161 111 155, 157 111:10 158 112 155, 156, 157, 161 n.24 112:1 154 112:5 154 113:9 80 118:8 f 154 119 155, 157 119:1 154 119:2 154 119:130 274 n.18 125 157 127 157

328 127:1 127:2 127:5 128 128:2 131 133 137:8 137:9 139 139:23 143:2 144:15 145 146 146–150 146:5

Index of Biblical Texts 154 154 154 156, 157 154, 156 157 154, 155, 157 154 154 157 152 152 154 155 156 n.5 156 n.5 154

Proverbs 1–9 125, 126 n.4, 127, 128, 128 n.19, 139 1:1 127 1:8 130 1:8–19 139 n.58 1:8–7:27 139 n.58 2:1–22 139 n.58 3:1–12 139 n.58 3:9–10 140 n.63 3:21–35 139 n.58 4:1–9 139 n.58 4:4 130 4:10–19 139 n.58 4:20–27 139 n.58 5:1–23 139 n.58 6:20 130 6:20–35 139 n.58 7 127, 131 7:1–27 139 n.58 7:6–9 135 8 35, 35 n.2, 127, 131, 253 8:9 274 9 129, 131 10–29 132 n.38 10:1 127 10:1–22:16 127, 127 n.10, 128 11:14 133 n.42 14:23–30 128 n.20 14:25 139 15:2 233 n.63 15:22 133 n.42 15:28 233 n.63 16:1–22:16 130 n.29

16:2 152 16:14–15 139 16:23 131 17:8 131 17:10 274 17:10–12 131 17:14 308 17:24 274 18:4 233 19:12 139 20:9 152 21–29 128 21:9 129 22:11 139 22:11–24:22 128, 128 n.18– 19, 130, 139 22:17 135 n.48 24:6 133 n.42 24:16 308 24:17 302 24:23 133 n.42 25–29 127 25:1 5, 127, 130, 135 25:6–7 139 25:15 139 25:24 129 28:2 274 28:7 274 28:11 274 30 128, 129 30:1 128 n.21 31 128–131 31:1 128 n.21 Qoheleth/Ecclesiastes 1:3 196 1:9 191 1:14 190, 190 n.5 1:16 190 n.5 2:1 190 n.5 2:2–26 201 2:3 190 n.5 2:12 190 n.5 2:13 190 n.5 2:18–23 216 2:19 205 n.47 2:24 190, 190 n.5, 204 3:1–13 204 3:9 196 3:10 190, 190 n.5 3:13 204 3:16 190, 190 n.5, 211 3:22 190 n.5, 204

4:1 190, 190 n.5, 193, 216 4:4 190, 190 n.5, 203 4:4–6 205 4:6 204 4:7 190, 190 n.5, 216 4:7–8 204 4:8 211 4:12 213 4:15 190 n.5 5:1–13 190 5:1–18 200, 204 5:7 193 5:7–8 203, 211 5:9 195 5:10 203 5:12 190 n.5, 216 5:12–13 190 5:12–14 214, 215 5:12–16 205 5:15 196 5:17 190 n.5, 200 5:18 193, 200, 204, 205 n.47 6:1 190, 190 n.5 6:2 201, 205 n.47 6:6 204 6:7–9 211 6:10 149, 213 6:12 192, 196 7:7 211 7:11 196 7:12 196 7:13 190 7:14 204 7:15 190, 190 n.5 7:16 192 7:19 205, 205 n.47 7:21 204 7:26 201 7:27 196 8:1–12a 211 8:2–5 212 8:7–9 211 8:8 207 8:9 190, 190 n.5, 205, 207 8:10 190, 190 n.5 8:13 196 8:16 190, 190 n.5, 204 8:17 190 n.5 9:1–16 189 n.4 9:1–17 22 9:6 85 9:9 156 9:11 189 n.4, 190, 190 n.5

9:13 10:1 10:5 10:5–7 10:7 10:8–9 10:10 10:15 10:16–20 10:20 11:1–2 11:6 11:9 11:11–12 12:4 12:9 12:9–14

190, 190 n.5 204, 214 190, 190 n.5, 213 214 190, 190 n.5 214 205 199 204 204, 211 216 216 204 205 199 142, 189 8

Isaiah 10:19 19:1–12 20:1–6 24–27 29:1–12 30:1–7 31:1 37:14 44:25–26a 49:10 53:12 57:1

129 n.22 133 n.38 132 n.38 14 129 n.22 132 n.38 132 n.38 84 262 307 230 274 n.18

Jeremiah 2:29 20:9 23:30 26:24 29:3 36 36:4–18 36:10 36:11 36:12 36:20 36:21 40–41 40:9 45 49:7

307 234 152 5 5 164 136 140 129 n.26 129 n.26 129 n.26 129 n.26 5 129 n.26 164 17

Ezekiel 2:1 9:2

329

Index of Biblical Texts

168 136

9:11 14:14 16:30 27:1–25 27:17 28:3

136 97 205 n.47 197 197 97

Daniel 1 259 1–6 258, 259, 263–265 1:4 274 1:17 262 n.12 1:20 143, 262 n.12 2 259–262, 262 n.12 2:10 261 2:13 262 n.12 2:19 261 n.11 2:27–28a 261 n.11 3 259, 264 3:3 212 3:8 264 n.22 4 259, 260, 262 4:6 260, 262 5 259–262, 262 n.12 5:2–6:1 265 5:11 265 5:11 f 262 6 259, 264 6:4 f 264 6:4–6 264 n.22 6:6 182 n.58 6:16 264 7–12 16, 258, 270 7:25 182 n.58 8:5 274 n.18 8:23 274 n.18 8:27 274 9:3 260 10 259, 260 10:2 259 10:2 f 260 11:33 16, 277 11:34 270 n.46 11:35 16, 277 12:3 16, 277 12:10 277 Hosea 14

161

Amos 2:6

308

Obadiah 8–9

17

Nahum 2:1–13

83

Haggai 1:1 2:23

167 n.10 167 n.10

Zechariah 3:1 ff 12

150–151 14

Malachi 3:17

205 n.47

Apocrypha 1 Maccabees 12:6

230 n.50

2 Maccabees 1:10 1:18–36 2:1–8 2:13 f 6:18 6:23 6:24 6:28 6:31 11:27

230 n.50 171 171 171 234 235 235 235 235 230 n.50

Sirach 1:8 3:5 3:14 f 4–49 4–50 6:2–29 6:32 f 6:36 7:19 7:21 7:23–29 7:24 f 8:8a 9:14b 9:17b 10:3 10:22

231 237 237 219 15 226 226 227 236 277 232 n.61 237 227 227 230 238 238

330 10:23 10:24 11:1 11:8 f 11:21 13:3 13:4 13:18 13:20 13:21 13:24 15:10 15:11–20 15:14 16:2–17:10 16:26 16:28 17:3 17:7a 17:11 17:14 17:28 18:33 20:28 20:30 21:13 21:17 24 24:3 24:8a 24:13 25:16 26:3 28:13–26 30:1–16 30:6 30:7 30:9 30:13 31:1–32:13 31:25 31:29 32:27 f 32:18a 33:2–22

Index of Biblical Texts 277 238 238 237 238 238 238 237 237 277 237 n.82 156 n.5, 231 226 n.37 231 n.59 218 231 231 231 231 231 231 238 238 241 228 228 228 253 231 231 9 236 236 237 n.81 238 237 236 236 236 238 238 238 238 228 237

34:2–35:15 222 35:4 238 35:10–12 238 35:16 f 238 36:22 238 37:2–31 238 37:5 237 37:19 230 37:23 230 38:2–39:11 239, 241 n.89 38:14 232, 232 n.61 38:15 241 38:24 9, 142, 240 n.89 38:24–39 9 38:24–39:11 13, 142, 224 38:25 240, 240 n.89, 241 38:25–30 240 38:31 f 241 38:33 f 241 38:34 233 39 179 n.48, 187 39:1–5 142 39:1–11 242–243 39:2 233 39:4 240, 243 39:12 234 40:19 236, 241 41:14 228 42:1–43:33 218 42:12 237 45:5 234 45:6–22 229 n.45 45:23–24 229 n.45 45:24 229 n.45 47:12 227 n.40, 277 47:14 227 n.40 49:11–13 179 n.48 50 8 50:1–21 229 n.45 50:20 228 50:27 232, 232 n.61, 233 50:28 f 233 51:13 227 n.41 51:17 234 51:18 235

51:23 51:24 51:29

8, 142, 235 236 236

Tobit 10:7

273

Wisdom of Solomon 1–6 250, 250 n.12, 253, 256 1:1 250 1:12–16 250 1:14 252 1:15 251 2:1–20 249 2:1–24 248 2:10–5:23 251 n.14 2:13–15 249 3–4 251 3:1–9 251 3:13–4:6 251 4:7 251 5 254 5:15–20 252 5:15–23 251 6:1 250 6:12 12 6:20 252 7–8 253 7–9 252, 256 7:2–23 253 7:14 253 7:17–29 253 7:27 253 8:7 253 8:19–19:22 161 9 253 10 254 11:5 254 13–15 249 14:13 248 16:5 255 18:20 255 19:13–16 249 19:16 250

Index to Pseudepigrapha, Non-Biblical, Ancient Literature Akkadian Texts Administrative Document SAA 11 156 74 Admonitions of Šūbē-awīlim to His Son RS 22.439 101, 102 Advice of a Prince 22, 87 Advice of Shupe-awilum 22 A Father and his Son 62 At the Cleaner’s 22 Ballade 58–59 Ballade of Early Rulers 54, 56, 56 n.34, 57 Birth Omens RS 7.01 105 Celestial Divination RS 23.38 105 Code of Hammurabi Law 26 207 n.52 Law 33 207 n.52 Councels for Shupe-amelim 62 n.60 Counsels of a Pessimist 22 Counsels of Wisdom 22 Dialogues between Teachers and Students 21 Enlil and Namzitarra 56 n.34, 59–60 Gilgamesh Epic 22, 56 n.34, 192 n.14 Gudam-Tale 51 n.12, 56 n.34 Hermology RS 25.141+454F 105 RS 25.440A 105 Inanna’s Descend into the Underworld 29, 56 n.34 In Praise of the Scribal Art 21, 69 n.15, 76 n.35 Instructions of Šuruppak 22, 51 n.12, 54, 55 n.24 Kutha Legend 51 n.12 Letters from Advisors SAA 10 16–164 77 n.36 SAA 10 28–295 77 SAA 10 161 77 n.36 SAA 10 165 77 n.36 SAA 10 166 77 n. 36 SAA 10 182 87 n.61

SAA 10 224 78 SAA 10 226 78 SAA 10 227 77 n.36 SAA 10 228 77 n.36 SAA 10 289 77 n.36 SAA 10 294 77, 88–94 SAA 10 307 77 n.36 SAA 10 308 77 n.36 SAA 10 320 77 n.36 SAA 10 334 77 n.36 SAA 10 383 77 n.36 Letters from Scribes SAA 10 143 76 SAA 10 171 76 Letters from Diviners SAA 10 177 76 Letters of Recommendation SAA 10 116 67 n.10 SAA 10 160 68–71 Ninurta and the Turtle 51 n.12, 56 n.34 Ninurta-paqidat’s Dogbite 22 Nisaba and Wheat 22 Nungal Hymn 52 n.12 Old-Babylonian Bawdy Ballade 22 Old Man and the Young Girl 56 n.32, 60 PBS 2/I, 106 208 Poor Man of Nippur 22, 84 n.57, 86, 87 RS 17.10 106 n.46 RS 17.80 106 n.46 Schooldays 56 n.34, 62 The Adulterer 56 n.33 The Babylonian Theodicy 22, 28, 53, 70 n.18, 83 The Dialogue between an Examiner and a Student 25 The Dialogue between a Supervisor and a Scribe 26 The Dialogue between Two Scribes 26 The Dialogue of “Pessimism” 22, 53 The Fable of the Fox 22 The Fable of the Riding-Donkey 22 The Fable of the Willow 22 The Fowler and his Wife 56 n.33 The Ox and the Horse 22

332

Index to Pseudepigrapha, Non-Biblical, Ancient Literature

The Poem of the Righteous Sufferer 22, 53 The Tamarisk and the Palm 22 Three Ox-Drivers of Adab 56 n.32, 60 UET 4,190 206 UM 28 206, 206 n.49 Unusual Act of Animals RS 92.2018 105 Aramaic Texts KAI 14.18–19 213 Samaria Papyrus 3.3 209–210 Sefîr Inscription 192 n.12 TAD I, 4.5.9. 212 TAD I, 5.2 210 TAD I, 5.2.5 193 TAD I, 5.2.8 193 TAD I, 5.2.9 193 TAD I, 6.4 199 TAD I, 6.4.4. 199 TAD I, 6.11 201 TAD II, 1.1.11 200 TAD II, 2.3.9–10 205 TAD II, 2.6.17–22 205 TAD II, 1.1.5–6 207 TAD II, 3.1 208, 208 n.55 TAD II, 3.13 208 n.55 TAD II 4.1 208 n.55 TAD II, 4.2 208, 208 n.55 TAD II, 4.7 208 n.55 TAD III, 1.1.13–137 204 TAD III, 1.1.80–82 211 TAD III, 3.11.6 196 TAD III, 3.28.79 196 The Sayings (Proverbs) of Ahiqar 32–34, 111–120, 192, 208, 210, 210 n.59, 210 n.60, 212–213, 216, 222 n.18 The Story of Ahiqar 109–111, 120–124 Egyptian Texts Collection of Pessimistic Sayings Discourses of Sisobek Dramatical Ramesseum Papyrus pRam. B Funerary Ritual Papyrus pRam. C vso pRam. E rto Hymn to Sobek pRam. VI In Praise of Learned Scribes

44 17, 44 44 n.31 44 n.31 44 n.31 44 n.31 21

Invocation of Demons pRam. XII 44 n.31 Lamentations 17 Magical Papyrus pRam. VIII 44 n.31 pRam. IX 44 n.31 pRam. X 44 n.31 pRam. XI 44 n.31 pRam. XIV 44 n.31 pRam. XV 44 n.31 pRam. XVI 44 n.31 Magical, Cultic Prescriptions pRam. XIII 44 n.31 Medical Papyrus pRam. V 44 n.31 Medical-Magical Papyrus pRam. III 44 n.31 pRam. IV 44 n.31 pRam. VII 44 n.31 Messages from the fortress Quban 44 Papyrus Insinger 17 24 150 n.31 Papyrus Lansing 17 Protective Spells for the Epagomenal Days pRam. XVII 44 n.31 Satirical Letters: P. Anastasi I. 17 Semna dispatches 44 Shipwrecked Sailor 192 n.13 Story of Sinuhe 44 , 192 n.13 Tale of the Eloquent Peasant 17, 44 Teaching of a Man to His Son/ Amunnakhte 17 The Admonitions of Ipuwer 17 The Book of Thot 40–42, 44, 45 The Instruction for Kagemni 17 The Instruction for Merikare 17 The Instruction of Amenemhet 17 The Instruction of Amenemopet 17 The Instruction of Ankhsheshonki 17 The Instruction of Any 17 The Instruction of Hordjedef 17 The Instruction of Ptahhotep 17 The Prophecies of Neferti 17 The Satire on the Trades 20 Greek and Latin Literature Aristotle Rhetorica Dio Chrysostom De dicendi exercitatione (Or. 18)

11 10



Index to Pseudepigrapha, Non-Biblical, Ancient Literature

Josephus Contra Apionem 1.37–41 1.39 f 1.54 Jewish Antiquities 1–11 1.5 11.1–158 11.32 11.114–119 11.120 11.120–158 11.121 11.123.127 11.131 11.131 f 11.132 f 11.136 11.138 11.139 11.142 11.153 11.154 f 11.154–157 11.158 11.159–183 11.165 11.169 11.180a 11.180b-182 11.183 20.26 f XII 3.3 Philo Against Flaccus 43 De vita Mosis 2.216 Plato Geogias 453a2 Republic 443D-E 444D

333

Phoenician Texts 179 n.50 169 179 n.50

KAI 13.8 KAI 14.12

179 179 n.50 176 178 176 178 176 178 178 178 178 179 n.49 178 178 178 178 178 178 178 177, 178 177 178 n.46 178 n.46 177 177 177 179 n.50 221 n.14

Pseudepigrapha

246 247

10, 10 n.17 253 253

Pliny the Younger Epistulae 9.36

2

Quintilian Institutio oratoria 2.15.34

10 n.17

2 Baruch 1 Enoch 1–5 1–36 6–16 12:4 15:1 17–36 22:5–7 26:1 f 32:6 72:1 72–82 80:2–8 80:2–81:10 85–90 90:6–16 91:1–17 92:1 93:1–10 106–107 4 Ezra 1:1 ff 1–2 2 3:1 3–14 4:23 13:58–14:6 14 14:5 14:5 f 14:7–17 14:8 14:12 14:17 14:18–22 14:20 14:21 14:22 14:24 ff 14:24–25 14:26 14:28 ff 14:34–35

192 192

170 n.27 269 258, 280 258 280 280 259 268 267 268 269 258 269 258 n.6 258 n.1 270 258 n.2 280, 280 n.50 258 n.2 281 n.56 166–171 168 166 167 167, 170 166 168, 158 n.22 168 168, 169, 170, 171 169 170 169 169 167 169 168 168 168, 170 170 168 169 167 169 170

334

Index to Pseudepigrapha, Non-Biblical, Ancient Literature

14:37–44 14:40 14:42 14:45–47 14:46 f 15–16 Jubilees 1:1 1:5 1:7 1:26 2:1 4:20 40:5 Odes of Solomon

169 167 170 170 167 166 169 n.23 169 n.23 169 n.23 169 n.23 169 n.23 270 278, 282 161

Qumran Texts 1Q18 1–2 3 1QApGen II–V XIX:10–XX:32 XIX:14–23 XIX:23–27 XIX:25 XX:12–18 XX:19–20 XX:26–29 1QHa V:12 VI:26 VII:18 VII:21 IX:I–X:4 IX:33 IX:36–37 IX:37 X:5–20 X:5–21 X:20 XI:2 XI:6–19 XI:15 XIX:17 XX:7 XX:7–13 XX:7 ff XX:14–16 XX:16 1QM I:1 XIII:2–6

273 281 n.56 279, 279 n.44 279 279 279 279 279 279 284 n.63 287 n.74 286 286 287 n.74, 291 n.98 284 n.64 286 284 284 291 291 n.99 285, 291 284 n.61 284, 284 n.66 284 286 287 287 287 287 287 287, 289, 289 n.87 286

1QS I:1–III:12 III:1–IV:26 III:13 III:13–IV:26 V:1 V–XI VI:25 IX:12 IX:12–21 IX:13 IX:13–14 IX:14–16 IX:16–21 IX:21 IX:21–25 IX:21–X:8 IX:26–X:8 X:8–XI:22 1QSa I:7 I:27 I:27–28 I:27–II:3 I:28 II:16 II:11–22 1QSb I:1 III:22 V:20 1–11Q 4Q11 4Q163 15–16 3 4Q174 1–3 ii 4a 4Q181 2 5 4Q185 1–2 iii 13 4Q200 4 3 4Q203 8 4 4Q206 2 2 4Q212 1 ii 22–23 4Q223–224 2 ii 3 4Q225 3 i 11

288 14 287, 288 n.78 288 288, 288 n.83, 289 288, 289, 291 286 289 289–291 287 290 290 290 289 290 290 290 290 292 276 285 285 285 286, 292 285 285 291 286 286 286, 287 275 n.23 14 286 n.69 286 273 n.15 273 n.15 273 280 279 n.43 280 278 273 272 n.9

4Q243 11 ii 1 4Q249f 1–3 1–36 4Q249g 3–7 10–20 4Q249h 1–2 3 1 5–7 4Q249i 1 4Q256 IX:1 4Q258 I:1 IV:2 VII:5 4Q259 III:7 4Q261 3 31 4Q264a I:1 1–2 4Q266 2 i 6 3 ii 10 8 iii 5 9 iii 15 4Q267 2 8 9 v 12 4Q268 1 9 4Q270 2 ii 19 6 iv 17 4Q271 3 6 3 7 4Q274 f1i:7 4Q282 fq:1 4Q282q 1 4Q286 7 i 6 4Q298 1–2 i 1 1–2 i 3

Index to Pseudepigrapha, Non-Biblical, Ancient Literature

279 n.42 285 285 285 285 285 285 285 287, 288 287, 288 289, 290 289, 290 289, 290 286 290 n.90 290 n.91 286 285, 292 272 n.7 289 285, 292 272 n.7 286 286 272 n.7 286 286 13 13 279 n.40 286 n.69 287, 288 286

3–4 ii 4 3–4 ii 6 4Q299 3a ii–b 4 34 3 4Q300 6 3 4Q301 2a 1 4Q302 2 ii 2 4Q303 1 1 4Q304–305 4Q372 8 4 4Q375 4Q376 4Q378 26 1 4Q381 31 6 45a+b 1 47 3 4Q382 14 1 4Q400 1 i 1 2 9 3 ii+5 5 3 ii+5 8 4Q401 1–2 1 17 4 35 1 4Q403 1 i 30 1 ii 18 4Q405 3 ii 9 20 ii–22 6 4Q406 1 4 4Q408 3+3a 7 4Q411 1 ii 7 4Q412 4 4 4Q415 11 5 4Q415–418 4Q416 2 ii 15

335 286 286 272 274 n.16, 276 273 n.15 272 272 274 n.16, 276 14 274 n.16 274 n.19 274 n.19 273 n.15 273 274 n.18 274 n.16 277 n.29 277 273 n.15 273 n.15 277 n.34 277 n.34 273 n.15 273 n.15 277 n.34 277 n.34 273 n.15 277 n.34 277 n.34 274 272 n.9 273 n.15 274 n.16 13–15 277

336 2 ii 19 4 3 4Q417 1 i 1 1 i 1–13 1 i 14 1 i 15–16 1 i 18 1 i 25 1 ii 10 4Q418 8 15 21 2 81+81a 15 81+81a 17 102a+b 3 123 ii 4 123 ii 5–8 126 ii 12 158 4 168 4 176 3 221 3 227 1 238 1 4Q418a 7 2 19 2 4Q420 2 9 4Q421 1a ii–b 10 1 a ii–b 12 2ii+4 14 11 13+2+8 4Q423 1–2 i 7 4Q424 3 7 4Q427 8 i 9 8 ii 10 8 ii 17–18 4Q428 6 2 12 ii 3 4Q432 5 1 4Q433a 2 2 4Q436 1a+b i 2

Index to Pseudepigrapha, Non-Biblical, Ancient Literature 277 274 n.16 275 275 276 276 276, 277 277 274 n.16 277 277 n.29 275 277 275, 275 n.25 276 276 274 n.16 274 n.16 274 n.16 275 274 n.16 274 n.16 277 n.29 274 n.16 277 n.29 286 n.71 286 n.71 290 278 n.38 290 n.91 290 n.91 13, 14, 15 273 n.15 275 n.23 286 287 287 284 n.61 287 284 278 284

4Q446 2 3 4Q461 f2:1 1 6 2 1 4Q468a 2 4Q499 3 3 4Q504–506 4Q509 4 4 12 i – 13 3 4Q510 1 4 4Q511 2 i 1 2 i 2 2 ii 9 8 4 96 2 4Q525 2–3 ii 1–6 5 10 5 8 23 4 A 1 14 ii 15 14 ii 18 14 ii 18–20 14 ii 18–28 14 ii 19 16 3 24 ii 4Q530 2 ii+6–12 14 4Q534 1 i 3–8 1 i 8 4Q536 2 i+3 5 4Q541 2 ii 6 4Q548 1 ii-2 12 4Q558 26 1 4Q579 1 3 4QDa 5 i 17 8 iii 5 10 i 1 4QDb 9 v 2

277 n.29 13 277 n.29 279 n.40 272 n.9 273 n.15 14 274 n.16, 274 n.18 274 n.16 287 287 286 286 287 291 n.98 277 278 272 n.9 273 276 277 276 277 278 n.38 278 n.38 280, 281 281, 281 n.56 281 279 n.42 279 n.42 281, 282 279 n.42 273 n.15 289 276 276 276



Index to Pseudepigrapha, Non-Biblical, Ancient Literature

11Q5 27:2 13 11Q11 III:7 273 11Q17 VII:9 277 n.34 11QPsa XXVII:2 279 XXVII:2–3 273 XXVII:2–11 273, 273 n.13, 278, 282 XXVII:4 273 XXVII:5 13 XXVII:10 273 XXVII:11 273 11QTa LI:14 273 IQ26 13, 14, 15 Damascus Documents 1:1 286 5:20–6:1 285 6:2 292 6:2–3 285 9:12 286 10:6 272 n.7, 276 10:21 290 n.90 12–14 290 12:20–21 289 12:20–22 290 13:2 272 n.7, 276 13:22 289 14:7–8 272 n.7, 276 MMT B 68 286 B 80 286 C 8 286 Rabbinic Literature Avot de Rabbi Nathan A 31 bBaba Qamma 92a–93a bBerakhot 17a 39a 55a–57b 61a bGittin 69a bKetubbot 50a bMegillah 27b–28a

304, 305 304 307 309 312 314 312 314 317 308–309

bMo’ed Qatan 18b bPesahim 113b bSanhedrin 7a 38b bShabbat 66a 133b–134a bSukkah 28a bQiddushin 49b Derekh Eretz Rabbah 3 3–9 4:3 4–9 6:9 7:6 8:2 8:6 9:7 10 11 Derekh Eretz Zutta 1:2 1–4 2:9 2:12 6 9 11 Lamentation Rabbah 1,1,12 Ma‘aser Sheni IV,9,55b–c mAvot 4:1 mKelim 1:6 mKetubbot 5:5 mSanhedrin 2:2 2:4 mShabbat 7:2 12:1 12:5 mSotah 3:4 9:15

337 317 309 307 311 317 317 311 309 305 305 305 305 305 305 305 305 305 305 305 305 305 305 305 305 306 305 305 306 313 314 317 297 297, 300 298 298 297 297 297 300 311, 318

338

Index to Pseudepigrapha, Non-Biblical, Ancient Literature

mQiddushin 1:10 4:14 mYebamot 1:1 Sefer Zerubbabel The Alphabet of Ben Sira Tosefta Berakhot 1:11 3:4 Tractate Avot 1:1 1:2 1:4 1:6 1:10 1:14 1:18 1–2 2:1 2:3 2:6 2:7 3:1 3:2 3:16 3:17 3–4 4:1 4:3 5 9:22

300 300–301 297 318 306–307 311 308 301–304 302 302 303 302 303 303 302 301 303 303 302 303 303 303 303 303 301 302 303 301 302

Ugaritic Texts Counsels of Wisdom RS 23.34+ 101 RS 25.130 101 RS 25.424 101 Collection of Birth and Celestial Omens RS 24.247+[KTU 1.103+1.145] 105 RS 24.302 [KTU 1.140] 105 RIH 78/14 [KTU 1.163] 105 Myth of Ba‘lu 108 KTU 1.1–1.6 96, 97, 102 Poem of Early Rulers RS 25.130   11'–14' 101 n.25 Righteous Sufferer RS 25.460 101 Story of Aqhatu KTU 1.17–1.19 96, 97, 102 KTU 1.3 v 30–31 96 n.4, 97 n.6 KTU 1.4 iv 41–43 96 n.4, 97 n.6 v 3–4 96 n.4 KTU 1.16 iv 2 96 n.4, 96 n.5 KTU 1.17   i 26–33 98 n.10   i 43–52 98 n.10   ii 1–8 98 n.10   ii 17–23 98 n.10   vi 34–38 97 n.9 KTU 1.114 98 RS 20.216 96

Author Index Abegg, M.  286 Albani, M.  150, 269 Albertz, R.  150, 165 Alexander, P.  288, 314 Alonso-Schökel, L.  135, 219, 239 Alster, B.  21, 24, 51–61 André-Salvini, B.  103 Argall, R.  239 Arnaud, D.  101, 102, 104, 105 Artzi, P.  72 Asensio, V.  237 Asmussen, J.  281 Assmann, A.  36, 39, 45 Assmann, J.  36–40, 43, 44 Baines, J.  38–40 Baines, R.  129 Baker, H.  83 Balcer, J.  212 Barrera, J.  12 Baslez, M.-F.  248 Bauer-Kavatz, C.  126 Beaulieu, P.-A.  74, 75 Becker, J.  284, 291 Beckman, G.  73 Bedenbender, A.  258, 269, 270, 280, 283 Beentjes, P.  218, 219, 231 Begrich, H.  154 Bellia, G.  10, 248 Bennett, W.  198 Bentlyon, J.  195 Berger, K.  296 Beyer, K.  111, 119, 279, 280 Beyerlin, W.  160 Bickerman, E.  189, 221, 223 Black, J.  48 Blakely, J.  198 Blasius, A.  35 Blenkinsopp, J.  2, 7 Bloom, H.  96, 103 Boccaccini, G.  264, 267–270 Böhler, D.  172–175 Bordreuil, P.  105 Borger, R.  58, 65 Borges, J. L.  37 Boström, S.  241

Bottéro, J.  24 Braun, R.  191 Brenner, A.  131 Bronznick, N.  306 Broshi, M.  292 Brueggemann, W.  127, 133, 135, 137, 138 Brunner, H.  17, 19, 45 Buhl, F.  235 Burger, J.  156 Burgess, T.  12 Burkard, G.  17 Burke, P.  37, 39 Burkert, W.  36 Burton, W.  218 Butler, S.  103 Buylaere, G. van  75 Calduch-Benages, N.  218, 219 Cameron, G.  194 Caminos, R.  19 Camp, C.  131 Campbell, E.  131 Camponovo, O.  278 Cardascia, G.  206 Carr, D.  148 Carradice, I.  194 Cavigneaux, A.  100 Celniker, M.  223 Civil, M.  23, 52, 53, 55, 56, 59, 62, 72, 100 Clay, A.  208 Clemens, C.  311 Clements, R.  133 Cole, S.  67 Collins, J.  2, 14–16, 246, 252, 258, 260, 263–265, 267, 270, 272, 280, 318 Contenau, G.  261 Conybeare, F.  122 Cook, E.  286 Corley, J.  223, 231 Cowley, A.  109, 111, 122, 281 Crenshaw, J. L.  2, 129, 157, 271 Cross, F.  12, 198 Crüsemann, F.  149, 189 Dahood, M.  190 Dalix, A.-S.  103

340

Author Index

Dandamaev, M.  202 Davies, G.  140 Day, J.  97, 147 Delcor, M.  288 Delkurt, H.  148 Dell, K.  125, 127, 128, 139, 140, 142, 149 Delpha, A.  18 Demsky, A.  72, 73, 129, 131 Denning-Bolle, S.  29 Deuser, H.  237 Di Lella, A.  220, 226, 237, 239 Dietrich, M.  33, 57–59, 62, 72, 85, 96, 101,   106 Dijk, J. van  23, 33, 49 Dijk-Hemmes, F. van  131 Dijkstra, M.  101 Dillon, J. M.  11 Dimant, D.  14 DiTommaso, L.  109 Dodds, E.  262 Doll, P.  218 Donner, H.  165, 221 Dorschot, J. van  146 Dossin, G.  192 Doty, L.  72, 77 Dressler, H.  97 Driver, S. R.  148 Dubberstein, W.  210 Duhaime, J.  219 Durand, J.–M.  23 Egger-Wenzel, R.  218, 219, 225 Elgvin, T.  14, 15, 274 Emerton, J. A.  128 Ernst, A. B.  159, 311 Eschweiler, P.  42 Eshel, H.  209 Evans, C.  224 Fabry, H.-J.  229 Fales, F.  67, 74 Falk, D.  14, 273 Falkenstein, A.  23 Feldman, L.  11 Finkel, I.  72, 74 Fischel, H.  302 Fishbane, M.  148, 151, 152 Fitzmyer, J.  192, 281 Flannery-Dailey, F.  314 Fleischer, E.  296 Fohrer, G.  147, 152 Forster, C.  156 Foster, B.  51, 65, 69, 81

Foster, F.  147 Foucault, M.  37 Fowden, G.  43 Fox, M.  127 Fraenkel, Y.  307 Fredericks, D. C.  192 Frevel, C.  152, 162 Friedman, S.  312 Fruhstorfer, K.  239 Gadd, C. J.  263, 264 Gammie, J.  2, 314 Gardiner, A.  45 Geller, M.  51 Gemser, B.  78 George, A.  50, 72 Gerstenberger, E.  165 Gesche, P.  23, 72 Gesenius, W.  224, 235 Ginzberg, L.  163 Glassner, J.-J.  64 Goan, S.  218 Goff, M.  14, 274 Goldin, J.  301 Gordon, C. H.  95 Gordon, E. I.  21 Görg, M.  147 Goshen-Gottstein, A.  218 Gottlieb, I.  301 Grabbe, L.  166, 180 Grätz, S.  181, 182, 186 Gray, G. B.  148 Gray, J.  150 Greenfield, J.  33, 54, 86, 111, 205, 222 Greenstein, E.  85, 150, 152 Grelot, P.  110, 112, 116, 210, 281 Gropp, D.  210 Guillaume, P.  145, 147, 149 Gunkel, H.  140, 154, 158, 170 Gunneweg, A.  158 Hadas, M.  239 Hallo, W.  49, 77 Hallock, R.  194 Hanhart, R.  171, 176 Harding, J.  152 Harkavy, A.  296 Harms, W.  157 Harrington, D.  14, 272, 275 Harris, J.  122 Harris, R.  27 Harrison, C. R.  189, 191 Hasan-Rokem, G.  313

Haspecker, J.  239 Hayward, R.  229, 242 Heaton, E.  133, 134, 136 Heim, K.  127 Helck, W.  21 Hempel, C.  277, 288, 290, 291 Hempel, J.  271 Hengel, M.  223, 239, 241, 247 Hermisson, H.-J.  132 Herrenschmidt, C.  24 Herzfeld, E.  194 Hezser, C.  302, 315 Himmelfarb, M.  267, 318 Hinz, W.  212 Hock, R.  11 Hoftijzer, J.  113 Hoglund, K.  198 Hornung, E.  36 Horowitz, W.  72 Horst, F.  145 Huffmon, H.  78 Human, D.  161 Humbert, P.  150 Humphreys, W.  263 Hunger, H.  68, 71 Hunzinger, C.  272 Hurowitz, V.  22, 69, 74, 78–80 Hurvitz, A.  148 Hurwitz, A.  154 Ilan, T.  317 Irsigler, H.  157, 161 Isaac, E.  280 Izre’el, S.  65, 66, 73 Jamieson-Drake, D.  148 Jansen, H.  140 Jasnow, R.  41, 42 Jastram, N.  290 Jeremias, G.  284, 291 Jones, S.  212 Jongeling, K.  113 Kaiser, O.  223, 237 Kalugila, L.  64 Kämmerer, T.  55 Keel, O.  150 Kellermann, U.  177 Kenik, H.  143 Kennedy, G.  10 Khanjian, J.  31, 99 Kister, M.  288 Klein, J.  55, 57, 101

Author Index

341

Kloppenborg, J.  248 Knauf, E.  145–149 Koch, K.  165, 260 Koenen, K.  287, 291 Köhlmoos, M.  150 Kolarcik, M.  247, 250, 254, 255 Kosmala, H.  271, 277, 291 Kottsieper, I.  32, 33, 109, 111, 112, 114–117, 119, 120, 123 Kramer, S. N.  23, 24, 27, 28, 30, 53, 62 Krammer, I.  225 Kratz, R. G.  9, 165, 176, 179, 180, 182, 183, 186 Krauter, S.  228 Kreißig, H.  197, 239 Küchler, M.  301 Kuntz, J. K.  154, 156, 157 Kvanvig, H.  266 Lambert, W.  21, 22, 53, 54, 62, 73, 74, 81, 101 Lang, B.  126, 239 Lange, A.  13, 14, 271, 272, 274–276, 279, 284, 287–289 Larcher, C.  252 Lauer, S.  311 Laroche, E.  101 Lavy, J.  235 Lebram, J. C. H.  166, 263 Lee, T.  219 Leichty, E.  76 Leitz, C.  45 Lemaire, A.  126, 129, 130, 138, 141 Lete, G. del Olmo  105, 106 Lèvêque, J.  147 Levin, C.  149 Levy, L.  192, 235 Lewis, A.  122 Lichtenberger, H.  284, 289 Lichtheim, M.  35, 204 Lieven, A. von  43, 45 Lindenberger, J.  32, 111, 210, 222 Lion, B.  79, 84 Lindner, A.  237 Lipiñski, E.  53, 60 Livingstone, A.  51 Lohfink, N.  149 Loopik, M. van  305, 316 Loprieno, A.  17 Loretz, O.  96, 97, 106 Lucassen, B.  275 Luukko, M.  75 Maag, V.  147

342

Author Index

Machinist, P.  67 Macholz, C.  168, 170 Mack, B.  239 Mack-Fisher, L.  31 Maertens, T.  219 Marböck, J.  9, 239, 241 Margalit, B.  97 Martínez, F. García  12, 14, 231, 281, 286 Matilla, R.  67 Mazzinghi, L.  245 McDowell, A.  19 McKane, W.  128 McKinlay, J.  239 Meissner, B.  192 Merkelbach, R.  36 Meshorer, Y.  195 Metso, S.  288, 289 Mettinger, T.  148 Meyer, E.  165, 179 Middendorf, T.  223 Mieroop, M. van de  49 Milano, L.  81 Mildenberg, L.  195 Milik, J.  280, 281 Misgav, H.  209 Moenikes, A.  225 Moor, J. de  97, 102 Moore, G.  239 Moran, W.  82 Morawe, G.  284, 291 Morenz, L.  38, 43 Morgan, T.  11 Mowinckel, S.  140, 158, 159, 177 Mullen, T.  192 Müller, H.-P.  143, 147, 261, 283 Murphy, R.  2, 140, 154, 239, 271 Myers, J.  168 Nau, F.  222 Neusner, J.  297, 299, 311, 315 Newman, J.  251 Newsom, C.  145, 150, 271, 277, 278, 287, 290, 291 Nickelsburg, G.  264, 267 Niehoff, M.  314 Niehr, H.  109, 110, 120, 224, 279 Nitzan, B.  272 Noe, S.  194 Nordh, K.  42 Nötscher, F.  271, 291 Nougayrol, J.  31, 101, 102, 104, 106 Oeming, M.  159, 160

O’Neil, E.  11 Oorschot, J. van  159 Oppenheim, A.  24, 27, 61, 69, 70, 99, 100, 143, 261–263 Osing, J.  43 Osten-Sacken, P. von der  263 Otten, H.  276 Pakkala, J.  181–184 Pardee, D.  96, 104–106 Parker, S.  96, 98 Parkinson, R.  44 Parpola, S.  28, 54, 59, 65–71, 74–80, 86, 109, 147 Passaro, A.  10 Paul, S.  73, 75 Pearce, L.  50, 51, 64, 72, 73, 75, 77 Pearson, B.  247 Peckham, B.  192 Pedersén, O.  48 Perdue, L.  140, 147, 159, 218, 299 Perrot, C.  5 Petraglio, R.  219 Petschow, H.  72 Pfann, S.  288 Pié y Ninot, S.  239 Ploeg, J. van der  289 Pohlmann, K.-F.  175–177, 184 Porten, B.  109, 110, 116, 193, 199, 200, 204 Posener, G.  21 Postgate, J.  67, 74 Postgate, N.  49 Poulssen, N.  239 Prato, G.  239 Preuß, H.  157, 271 Puech, É.  281, 287 Pury, A. de  150 Pyeon, Y.  148 Qedar, S.  195 Rad, G. von  2, 15, 126, 132–134, 138, 157, 271 Rainey, A.  31 Rasco, E.  239 Rau, E.  266 Reese, J.  12 Reeves, J.  280 Reindl, J.  156 Reinelt, H.  155 Reiner, E.  52, 65 Reinink, G.  24 Reitemeyer, M.  160



Author Index

Reiterer, F.  219, 220, 223, 225, 229–231, 233–235, 237, 239 Rendtorff, R.  182, 183 Richardson, P.  8 Rickenbacher, O.  219, 239 Ritner, R.  42, 43 Ritter-Müller, P.  225 Robins, G.  18 Robinson, E.  194 Robson, E.  49, 50, 72 Rochberg, F.  65, 68, 70 Rochberg-Halton, F.  24 Römheld, K.  44 Root, M.  194 Rosengarten, Y.  28 Rost, L.  132 Roth, W.  218 Rowe, I. Márquez  103 Rubenstein, J.  315 Rüger, H.-P.  296 Ruppert, L.  222 Russell, J.  283 Sæbø, M.  167 Saldarini, A.  304 Salvini, M.  103 Sanders, E.  13 Sanders, J.  222, 273, 295 Sanders, S.  65 Santoro, L.  218 Sasson, J.  61, 65 Sauchau, E.  109 Sauer, G.  219, 224 Sauneron, S.  45 Schaeder, H.  165, 179, 182 Schäfer, P.  319 Schams, C.  2, 182, 224 Schechter, S.  296 Schenkel, W.  20 Scherer, A.  118 Schiffman, L.  285, 291 Schipper, B. U.  35 Schlott, A.  18, 20 Schmid, H.  1 Schmid, K.  146, 148, 151, 153 Schmidt-Biggemann, W.  36 Schmitt, G.  146 Schmitt, H.  221 Schneider, T.  37, 150 Schofer, J.  304 Scholem, G.  319 Scholz, F.  159 Schrader, L.  239, 240

343

Schroer, S.  150 Schulz, R.  36 Schwartz, M.  319 Schwemer, A.  278 Schwiderski, D.  181, 186 Schwienhorst-Schönberger, L.  149 Scott, R.  127, 133 Seely, D.  284 Seidel, H.  291 Segal, J.  213 Seminara, S.  48 Seow, C. L.  2, 8, 190, 193, 199, 212, 213 Shaffer, A.  72 Sheppard, G.  155 Sherwood, S. K.  161 Shupak, N.  17 Sieger, N.  219 Singer, A.  312 Sitzler, D.  24 Sjöberg, A.  23, 49–51, 53, 56, 62, 69 Skaist, A.  72 Skehan, P.  220 Skladny, U.  127, 130 Smith, D.  99 Smith, M.  96 Smitten, W. in der  163, 168 Sneed, M.  191 Soden, W. von  23, 33, 51, 81 Soldt, W. van  100, 102–106 Spieckermann, H.  152 Stadelmann, B.  239 Stadelmann, H.  221 Starcky, J.  281 Stegemann, H.  110, 273, 284, 286, 287 Stemberger, G.  304, 318 Stern, D.  311 Stern, E.  195, 197, 198, 206 Steudel, A.  110, 274, 275 Sticher, C.  160 Stolper, M.  194, 199, 202, 203, 206, 214, 215 Stolz, F.  159 Stone, M.  166 Stowers, S.  12 Strauss, H.  121 Strugnell, J.  13, 274, 275 Stuckenbruck, L.  281 Suggs, M.  251 Sukenik, E.  284, 285, 286, 287, 291 Suter, D.  267 Sweet, R.  27–31, 64, 283 Syring, W.-D.  146 Szubin, H.  193, 200

344

Author Index

Tait, W.  48 Talshir, Z.  175, 176 Tigchelaar, E.  274, 290 Tobac, E.  219 Toorn, K. van der  98 Tov, E.  275 Towner, W.  311 Treves, M.  150 Trible, P.  131 Tropper, A.  301, 304 Trublet, J.  5 VanderKam, J.  265, 266, 269, 271, 278, 280, 283 Vanstiphout, H.  23–26, 53, 61 Vaux, R. de  292 Veernant, J. P.  24 Veijola, T.  182 Veldhuis, N.  72 Veldhuise, N.  63 Veltri, G.  296, 314, 317 Vermes, G.  288, 290 Violet, B.  166, 167 Visicato, G.  65, 69 Volk, K.  49, 51, 53 Waetzoldt, H.  63 Wagner, C.  220 Wahl, H.-M.  97 Wahl, O.  238 Walkenhorst, K. H.  227 Walle, B. van de  239 Watson, W.  219 Weigl, M.  116, 118, 222 Weimar, P.  148 Weinberg, J.  145 Weinfeld, M.  9, 150, 284 Weisberg, D.  74

Wellhausen, J.  165 Wente, E.  18–21 Wernberg-Møller, P.  291 Westermann, C.  126, 157 Whedbee, J.  141 Whybray, R.  2, 125–128, 132, 134–137, 139, 141, 149, 157, 161 Wiche-Reuter, U.  223 Wilcke, C.  53, 56, 57, 62 Williams, R. J.  46 Wills, L.  121 Winston, D.  12, 245, 252 Wischmeyer, O.  221, 238, 239, 240 Wise, M.  286 Witte, M.  146, 147, 149 Wold, B.  276 Worrel, J.  271, 291 Wright, J.  181, 182 Wright, R.  245 Wünsche, A.  311 Wright, J. L.  181, 182 Wright, R.  245 Wyatt, N.  96, 98, 102 Yamauchi, E.  163 Yardeni, A.  109, 110, 116 Yassif, E.  306 Yieh, J.  233 Yonge, C.  247 Zauzich, K.-T.  41, 42 Zenger, E.  156, 160 Zenner, J.  239 Ziegler, J.  219, 220 Zimmermann, J.  281 Zucker, H.  220 Zuckerman, B.  148