The Fall of Jerusalem and the Rise of the Torah (Forschungen Zum Alten Testament) 9783161540547, 9783161550140, 3161540549

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Forschungen zum Alten Testament Edited by Konrad Schmid (Zürich) · Mark S. Smith (Princeton) Hermann Spieckermann (Göttingen)

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The Fall of Jerusalem and the Rise of the Torah Edited by

Peter Dubovsky´, Dominik Markl, and Jean-Pierre Sonnet

Mohr Siebeck

Peter Dubovsky´, born 1965; 1999 SSL; 2005 ThD; currently Dean at the Pontifical Biblical Institute in Rome and Professor of the Old Testament and History. Dominik Markl, born 1979; taught at Heythrop College (University of London), at ­Hekima College (Nairobi, Kenia) and at Jesuit School of Theology in Berkeley (California); currently Associate Professor of Hebrew Bible studies at the Pontifical Biblical Institute in Rome. Jean-Pierre Sonnet, born 1955; taught at the Jesuit School of Theology in Brussels and at the Centre Sèvre in Paris; currently Professor of Hebrew Bible at the Pontifical ­Gregorian University in Rome.

ISBN 978-3-16-154054-7 eISBN 978-3-16-155014-0 ISSN 0940-4155 (Forschungen zum Alten Testament) Die Deutsche Bibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliographie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2016 Mohr Siebeck Tübingen. www.mohr.de This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that permitted by copyright law) without the publisher’s written permission. This applies particularly to reproductions, translations, microfilms and storage and processing in electronic systems. The book was printed by Gulde Druck in Tübingen on non-aging paper and bound by Buchbinderei Spinner in Ottersweier. Printed in Germany.

Preface The conception of the present volume – and of the conference from which it results – has been guided by the hope that research into the Pentateuch would be stimulated by a broad, interdisciplinary approach that brings experts from archaeology, history and different streams of literary criticism together. It is our first and foremost desire, therefore, to thank all contributors to the conference, both speakers and other participants, for having made this meeting at the Pontifical Biblical Institute in Rome, 27–28 March 2015, indeed a memorable experience of open, honest and inspiring discussion. The Pentateuch’s self-presentation as the primeval history of humanity and Israel that, to a certain degree, conceals rather than reveals its “real” historical setting(s), has proven to be a formidable battleground of diverse hypotheses; accordingly there is little agreement – viewed from a global perspective – even on the criteria employed in reconstructing the historical development of the texts in question. One of the key issues involved in many discussions is that of how much of the Pentateuch results from literary activities in the preexilic period, and to what extent it is a document that grew in exilic and postexilic times. Tendencies in this regard could be described in terms of a continental divide between Europe, on the one hand – where many scholars tend to accept later rather than earlier dates for large sections of the Pentateuch – and North America and Israel, on the other – where scholars tend to imagine the Pentateuch as largely a preexilic document. These tendencies, however, cannot be regarded as a rule without exceptions and should not be over-emphazised. We all rely on literary and historical arguments based on the same evidence. In an area of disputed hypotheses we should concentrate on what we think to be the strongest historical arguments. We have thus chosen the fall of Jerusalem in 587 BCE, the crisis that has sparked most extensive literary reflection on the Hebrew Bible, as the point of departure for this conference. Is the trauma of 587 reflected in the Pentateuch – or can the contrary be demonstrated? We invited outstanding scholars from diverse backgrounds to make a historical or literary argument they consider relevant in this regard and to bring it into discussion. It should come as no surprise, therefore, that the opinions expressed in this volume are heterogenous and controversial. Based on feedback from speakers and other participants, however, we are confident that our conference has allowed for a profound confrontation between conflicting views that may help address some of the issues at stake more accurately.

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Peter Dubovský / Dominik Markl / Jean-Pierre Sonnet

On the basis of thematic considerations, we have divided this volume into four major sections. The first sets the stage by bringing together archaeological, historical and literary perspectives on the fall of Jerusalem in the contributions of Israel Finkelstein, Lester Grabbe, Peter Dubovský and Jean-Pierre Sonnet. In the second part, exemplary texts and themes are discussed, tendentially moving from Genesis to Deuteronomy in the five articles by Angelika Berlejung, Jean Louis Ska, Konrad Schmid, Eckart Otto and Nili Wazana. The third section concentrates on priestly texts and cultic (dis-)continuities in the papers contributed by Nathan MacDonald, Jeffrey Stackert, Dominik Markl and Christophe Nihan, while the final part opens up a perspective on the relationship between the Pentateuch and the prophets in articles by Georg Fischer, Bernard Levinson and Ronald Hendel. The concluding essay, by Jean-Pierre Sonnet, grew out of our first editorial meeting, which started as a celebration of the delightful experience of the conference with a drink on the roof terrace of the PBI, but ended in an intense discussion on the reflection of trauma in literature. If many questions have been left open, some issues have crystallized with greater clarity and acuteness during the course of the discussion. We wish to mention here three areas that were emphasized by speakers in their retrospective statements. First, the lack of archaeological evidence of scribal culture in early Persian Jerusalem and Yehud, as pointed out by Israel Finkelstein, stands in stark contrast to exegetes’ tendency to date several texts – within or outside the Pentateuch – to this period. “Clearly this is an issue for all of us, whether we hold that texts were mostly transmitted in this period or whether we hold they were mostly being composed (as well as transmitted) in this period”, says Nathan MacDonald. Is the lack of evidence just a result of the very limited archaeological access to the decisive areas of the temple in Jerusalem? Or do we have to consider other settings for the origin of several texts? Second, as Jean Louis Ska suggests, The disappearance of a culture triggers off a certain type of literature. This is the case in Mesopotamia with Berossus and in Egypt with Manetho. They wrote their work in Hellenistic times when their civilizations’ glory already belonged to the past. The Torah could be – to some extent – an answer of the same type to the end of Jerusalem and the kingdom of Judah.

Bernard Levinson’s question, however, remains open: “Does the non-mention of Jerusalem in the Pentateuch translate into a direct statement about the social world of a text, or does it reflect the literary plot and staging of the text (its pseudepigraphic attribution to Moses prior to the entry into the land)?” Third, the issue of linguistic dating – a central one for some colleagues – was raised, but not systematically discussed, at our conference. While it is unlikely that anybody would doubt the evidence of linguistic change within the Hebrew Bible, views on when major changes happened and if classical language could have been conservatively used in certain genres even at later stages of linguistic development, remain highly controversial.

Preface

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We are indebted to several persons and institutions without whose support the conference and its proceedings could not have been realised. We are grateful to the PBI’s rector, Michael Kolarcik, for supporting the conference and to Agustinus Gianto, Pro-Dean of the Oriental Faculty of the PBI, who contributed a paper on Daniel. We thank Carlo Valentino, general secretaryof the PBI, for taking care of countless organizational details, as well as our doctoral student Simon Weyringer, who helped organize the attendence of more than 200 international participants. We acknowledge the valuable support by many students in our doctoral and licentiate programmes who made speakers and participants feel welcome at the PBI. Speakers enjoyed the hospitality of the Jesuit community of the PBI and the final dinner at Sora Margherita’s restaurant in the historic Jewish quarter of Rome. Elizabeth Lock (Oxford) has done invaluable work as the copy-editor of this volume, both in improving the English of non-native speakers and in handling all the intricacies of formatting. We are grateful to the staff of Mohr Siebeck, especially Henning Ziebritzki and Dominika Zgolik, for their friendly and straightforward collaboration. We thank our doctoral students Charles Samson and Seung ae Kim for proofreading and composing the indices. Both the conference and the preparation of the proceedings were co-sponsored by Georgetown University (Washington, DC) and the Gregorian University Foundation (New York). We thank both institutions and their representatives, President John J. DeGioia and Fr Alan Fogarty SJ respectively, for their generous support. Finally, we are grateful to Konrad Schmid, Hermann Spieckermann and Mark Smith for inviting us to publish this volume in the series Forschungen zum Alten Testament. We hope that this book may help to continue the spirited discussions that we enjoyed in Rome. Peter Dubovský, Dominik Markl and Jean-Pierre Sonnet Rome, Pentecost 2016

Contents Preface ............................................................................................................ V

I. The Fall of Jerusalem: Archaeological, Historical and Literary Perspectives Israel Finkelstein Jerusalem and Judah 600–200 BCE Implications for Understanding Pentateuchal Texts .................................... .... 3 Lester L. Grabbe The Last Days of Judah and the Roots of the Pentateuch What Does History Tell Us?........................................................................ .. 19 Peter Dubovský Suspicious Similarities A Comparative Study of the Falls of Samaria and Jerusalem ..................... .. 47 Jean-Pierre Sonnet The Siege of Jerusalem between Rhetorical Maximalism (Deuteronomy 28) and Narrative Minimalism (2 Kings 25) ........................................................ 73

II. The Rise of the Torah: Exemplary Texts and Issues Angelika Berlejung Living in the Land of Shinar Reflections on Exile in Genesis 11:1–9?....................................................... 89 Jean Louis Ska Why Does the Pentateuch Speak so Much of Torah and so Little of Jerusalem? .................................................................................................... 113 Konrad Schmid Divine Legislation in the Pentateuch in its Late Judean and Neo-Babylonian Context ............................................................................ 129 Eckart Otto Born out of Ruins The Catastrophe of Jerusalem as Accoucheur to the Pentateuch in the Book of Deuteronomy ................................................................................ 155

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Nili Wazana The Law of the King (Deuteronomy 17:14–20) in the Light of Empire and Destruction ........................................................................................ .. 169

III. Priestly and Cultic (Dis-)continuities Nathan MacDonald Aaron’s Failure and the Fall of the Hebrew Kingdoms ............................... 197 Jeffrey Stackert Political Allegory in the Priestly Source The Destruction of Jerusalem, the Exile and their Alternatives ................... 211 Dominik Markl The Wilderness Sanctuary as the Archetype of Continuity between the Pre- and the Postexilic Temples of Jerusalem ......................................... .... 227 Christophe Nihan Cult Centralization and the Torah Traditions in Chronicles .................. .... 253

IV. Prophetic Transformations Georg Fischer Don’t Forget Jerusalem’s Destruction! The Perspective of the Book of Jeremiah .................................................... 291 Bernard M. Levinson Zedekiah’s Release of Slaves as the Babylonians Besiege Jerusalem Jeremiah 34 and the Formation of the Pentateuch ....................................... 313 Ronald Hendel Remembering the Exodus in the Wake of Catastrophe ................................ 329

Dis-aster: Reflection and Perspective Jean-Pierre Sonnet Writing the Disaster Trauma, Resilience and Fortschreibung ..................................................... 349 List of Contributors ................................................................................ ... 359 Index of Ancient Texts ............................................................................... 361 Index of Modern Authors ......................................................................... ... 379

I. The Fall of Jerusalem: Archaeological, Historical and Literary Perspectives

Jerusalem and Judah 600–200 BCE Implications for Understanding Pentateuchal Texts Israel Finkelstein Several decades ago archaeology played a major role in Pentateuchal research, mainly in attempts to locate the Sitz im Leben – the single historical period – for the Patriarchs.1 The failure (and, one must say today, naiveté) of this endeavour, and the realization that the texts are multi-layered and do not represent a single period of authorship, left archaeology outside the modern Pentateuchal research arena. This was a mistake 2 because archaeology does have the capacity to shed light on the historical realities behind biblical texts; in the case of the Pentateuch, this means the historical background behind the authors rather than the historicity of the stories. In fact, archaeology can even help in identifying different layers of authorship. I therefore suggest that the future of research into the evolution of biblical texts be in the collaboration between specialists in text analysis and archaeology.3 This article is therefore divided into two. In the first part I wish briefly to survey archaeological data on Jerusalem and Judah in the later phases of the Iron Age and the Babylonian, Persian and early Hellenistic periods. In the second part I will attempt to demonstrate possible implications of these data for understanding the historical background in the compilation of several Pentateuchal texts. As an introduction let me emphasize two points: first, my intention is not to give an overall exposé of the archaeology of Judah / Yehud / Judea;4 I will introduce some finds which seem to be applicable to topics discussed in this volume. Second, although my title refers to the period of c. 600–200 BCE, as I am a devotee of the long-term approach, I will discuss a somewhat broader time-span, which starts with the collapse of the northern kingdom in 720 BCE and possibly ends in the second century BCE.

The Data The Iron IIB–C As far as I can judge, the most important issue here is the settlement patterns. The number of sites in the Judean Highlands in the late Iron IIA (until the 1

ALBRIGHT, “Abraham”; GORDON, “Customs”; DE VAUX, Early History, 161–287. Already in THOMPSON, Historicity; VAN SETERS, Abraham. 3 FINKELSTEIN / RÖMER, “Jacob”; iidem, “Abraham”; iidem, “Moab”. 4 For this see, e.g., STERN, Archaeology. 2

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early eighth century) can be estimated at about 80. The peak prosperity of Judah commenced in the Iron IIB, in the late eighth century, and continued in the Iron IIC, in the late seventh century BCE, with over 120 sites and dense population in the entire area, including the semi-arid south Hebron hills. The Shephelah, which suffered a major blow from Sennacherib’s 701 BCE campaign, partly recovered in the Iron IIC, though on a smaller scale and in a different pattern from previously. The Beer-sheba Valley also reached a settlement peak in the Iron IIB–C.5 Further to the south, until the withdrawal of Assyria from the region in c. 630–625 BCE, Judahites probably served in Assyrian forts (or Assyrian-dominated strongholds) along desert routes such as En Hazeva and Kadesh-barnea. Archaeological finds, especially at Kadesh-barnea, as well as information in the Arad ostraca regarding movement of troops and shipping of commodities in the south, show that Judah and Judahites continued to be present in the arid areas south of the Beer-sheba Valley even after the retreat of Assyria from the region.6 Regarding Jerusalem, I first wish to draw attention to the proposal that the core of the ancient city is located under (beneath) the Temple Mount, and that the “City of David” cannot be regarded as the tell of ancient Jerusalem.7 This theory resolves some of the most tantalizing problems in the archaeology and history of Jerusalem, first and foremost the lack of evidence for activity in the “City of David” ridge in periods for which habitation in Jerusalem is securely attested in textual evidence, such as the Amarna letters.8 Accordingly, the “mound on the Mount” was the location of ancient Jerusalem of the Bronze Age and the early phases of the Iron Age. The city started expanding to the south, to the upper part of the “City of David” ridge, in an advanced stage of the late Iron IIA, that is, the late ninth century BCE.9 The “Great Leap Forward” in Jerusalem took place in a relatively short period of time in the eighth century BCE, when it grew to cover the entire area of the “City of David” ridge as well as the Western Hill – today’s Armenian and Jewish quarters.10 This means growth from c. 8.5 hectares to over 60 hectares in a matter of a few decades (Fig. 1). The reason for the sudden, dramatic population growth in Jerusalem in particular, and Judah in general, has been debated. Ten years ago Neil Silberman and I,11 following scholars such as Broshi, Schniedewind and Van der Toorn,12 suggested interpreting this phenomenon against the background of 5

For all this see an updated discussion in FINKELSTEIN, “Migration”. For instance, COHEN / BERNICK-GREENBERG, Kadesh-Barnea. 7 FINKELSTEIN et al., “Mound on the Mount”. 8 See discussion in NA’AMAN, “Contribution”. 9 FINKELSTEIN, “Migration”. 10 E.g., REICH / SHUKRON, “Urban Development”; GEVA, “Western Jerusalem”. 11 FINKELSTEIN / SILBERMAN, “Temple and Dynasty”. 12 BROSHI, “Expansion”; SCHNIEDEWIND, How the Bible; VAN DER TOORN, Family Religion, 339–372. 6

Jerusalem and Judah 600–200 BCE

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Fig. 1

migration by Israelites to Judah after 720 BCE. Nadav Na’aman opposed this view,13 and he has recently published another article on the matter.14 In my answer I updated the demographic data on Jerusalem and Judah, and dealt with material culture indications for movement of Israelites to Judah.15 13

NA’AMAN, “When and How”; for a rejoinder see FINKELSTEIN, “Settlement History”. NA’AMAN, “Dismissing the Myth”. 15 FINKELSTEIN, “Migration” (more below). 14

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Highly important for the study of the Pentateuch is the expansion of writing. Benjamin Sass and I recently investigated the pre-eighth century BCE linear alphabetic inscriptions from the Levant.16 We especially emphasized the stratigraphy and relative chronology of the contexts where the inscriptions were found, and translated this into absolute chronology using the massive information from recent radiocarbon studies.17 We showed that there are no inscriptions in the territories of Israel and Judah before the later phase of the late Iron IIA, in the late ninth century BCE. It is clear that writing spread only in the eighth century – in the first half of the century in Israel and in the second half in Judah. Complex literary works appear for the first time in Israel in the early eighth century, at Deir Alla and Kuntillet Ajrud.18 This is the basic evidence. Regarding interpretation, Sass thinks that writing on papyri must have been present in the administration of the territorial kingdoms, especially Israel, starting in the first half of the ninth century. This is possible, but I would prefer to see evidence for this theory, if not in the form of papyri, then in the expansion of other media of writing such as bullae and seals. For now this evidence is lacking. In any event, the main expansion of scribal activity and literacy in Judah came in the seventh century BCE. Most corpora of ostraca – Arad, Lachish, Uza, Malhata, Kadesh-barnea – belong to this period.19 The spread of literacy is also attested in the proliferation of seals and seal-impressions; it is noteworthy that a large corpus of bullae from Jerusalem, dated slightly earlier, c. 800 BCE, is not inscribed.20 The seventh century BCE is the moment when Judah becomes what one can describe as a “writing society” beyond the circles of temple and palace in the capital. This was probably an outcome of the century (c. 730– 630 BCE) when Judah was dominated by Assyria and was incorporated into the sphere of Assyrian global-economy, administration and culture. A research group at Tel Aviv University is working on digital methods of comparing handwriting.21 The mathematicians on the team developed a method which has recently helped to check the number of (writing) “hands” in the Arad ostraca. We found evidence for several writers; the information in the texts of the examined ostraca discloses that literacy infiltrated to the smallest forts in the Beer-sheba Valley and all the way down the bureaucratic ladder.22 There is no need to emphasize the importance of this information for 16

FINKELSTEIN / SASS, “West Semitic”. SHARON et al., “Report”; TOFFOLO et al., “Absolute Chronology”. 18 For the latter see recently AHITUV et al., “Inscriptions”, 105–120; NA’AMAN, “Inscriptions”. 19 E.g., AHITUV, Echoes. 20 REICH et al., “Recent Discoveries”. 21 For previous achievements of this group see summary in FAIGENBAUM-GOLVIN et al., “Computerized”. 22 FAIGENBAUM-GOLOVIN et al., “Algorithmic Handwriting Analysis”. 17

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the themes discussed here; suffice it to say that the recognition of the power of writing infiltrated all echelons of the Judahite administration, far beyond temple and palace. The Babylonian, Persian and Early Hellenistic Periods The archaeology of the Babylonian period is difficult to isolate and study. This is so owing to its short duration and because the finds are difficult to distinguish from those of the earlier Iron IIC and the later Persian period. Still, there are several issues concerning the Babylonian period that can be emphasized in regard to what is being discussed here. First, the destruction of Jerusalem: a thorough investigation of the data from the many fields of excavations there seems to indicate that destruction by fire is evident only in areas close to the Temple Mount and the Gihon Spring;23 with the exception of one place,24 there is almost no sign of conflagration and / or assemblage of broken vessels on floors on the Western Hill.25 Rural sites in the vicinity of Jerusalem also show no signs of major destruction.26 Though it is clear that the city was devastated – most of its sectors feature a long occupation gap – there are clues in some places to meagre activity immediately after 586 BCE.27 There is yet another piece of evidence for the continuation of certain activity in Jerusalem after Nebuchadnezzar’s assault; I refer to the mwsh (Mozah) and lion seal impressions found in Jerusalem, which make the link in the bureaucratic sequence of Judah-Yehud between the Iron Age rosette impressions and the Persian period early Yehud impressions. In other words, they probably represent the administration of the province after 586 BCE.28 The “City of David” features several mwsh impressions and a great number of lion impressions; the latter make up a large part of the assemblage in the entire region.29 Since not a single Babylonian period building was found on the “City of David” ridge, activity must have focused on the core of the city – the Temple Mount. There is simply no other way to understand these finds. Note that no mwsh and lion impressions were found south of Ramat Rahel, probably indicating that the province stretched over the limited area from Mizpah in the north to Ramat Rahel in the south (more below). 23

BARKAY, “King’s Palace”, 27; details in SHILOH, Excavations, 14, 18–19, 29; MAZAR / MAZAR, Temple Mount, 16, 21, 43; STEINER, Excavations, 108–109, 114; south of the spring evidence for destruction is limited – DE GROOT, “Discussion”, 164. 24 GEVA / AVIGAD, “Area W”, 134, 155. 25 E.g., GEVA / AVIGAD, “Area A”, 42; GEVA / AVIGAD, “Area X-2”, 215. 26 For instance, MAZAR, “Abu et-Twein”, 237; MAZAR et al., “Boarder Road”, 241; EDELSTEIN, “Terraced Farm”, 57. 27 BARKAY, “King’s Palace”, 27. 28 ZORN et al., “Stamp Impressions”; LIPSCHITS, Fall and Rise, 149–152. 29 In a seminar paper by my student Erin Hall.

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This brings me to a site outside Yehud, but of great importance for the discussion here: Bethel. A few years ago Lily Singer-Avitz and I revisited the finds retrieved from this site – both from the published report and unpublished materials, in storage in Jerusalem and Pittsburg. The results of our investigation 30 indicated that the settlement history of the site was not continuous, as held by the excavators.31 Rather, it was characterized by oscillations, with three phases of strong activity – in the Iron I, Iron IIB and Hellenistic periods; two periods of decline – in the late Iron IIA and the Iron IIC; and two periods of probable abandonment in the early Iron IIA and, most significantly, in the Babylonian and Persian periods. This evidence cannot be brushed aside as stemming from deficiencies in the excavations, as significant sectors of the small mound – bigger than can be suggested at first glance – had been excavated (more below). Turning to the Persian period, in Jerusalem evidence for activity comes mainly from the central sector of the “City of David” ridge, above the Gihon Spring. It is characterized chiefly by a relatively large number of early Yehud seal impressions, most of which come from fills. Not a single building or a single floor has ever been found there, or in any other place in ancient Jerusalem. The early Hellenistic period seems to reflect a similar picture.32 As in the case of the Babylonian impressions, the combination of these data – abundance of Yehud impressions and no architectural remains – must mean that the focus of the Persian period activity was in the old core of the city on the Temple Mount. Yet, even here, settlement activity must have been very low. Only a limited number of Persian period sherds were found in the vicinity of the Temple Mount, in the sifting of debris from the area of the Al-Aqsa Mosque, from the eastern slope of the Temple Mount and from the “Ophel” excavations south of the Temple Mount.33 In addition, no sign of a Persian period fortification was found in Jerusalem. As far as I can judge,34 the description in Neh 3 echoes the construction of the First Wall by the Hasmoneans. The earlier Nehemiah Memoir, which speaks in general about the deplorable state of Jerusalem and its fortifications, probably refers to the mound on the Temple Mount. The territory of Persian period Yehud has traditionally been reconstructed according to the references to sub-districts of the province in Neh 3.35 This, of course, is a circular argument because the background and date of this list is 30

FINKELSTEIN / SINGER-AVITZ, “Bethel”. KELSO, Bethel. 32 Summary in FINKELSTEIN, “Wall of Nehemiah”; for the data see also LIPSCHITS, “Persian Period Finds”. 33 BARKAY / ZWEIG, “Sifting”, 222; DVIRA (ZWEIG) / ZIGDON / SHILOV, “Secondary Refuse”, 68; personal communication from Eilat Mazar. 34 FINKELSTEIN, “Wall of Nehemiah”. 35 For summaries of the different opinions see STERN, Material Culture, 247–249; CARTER, Emergence of Yehud, 79–80; LIPSCHITS, Fall and Rise, 168–174. 31

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far from being decided. And as I indicated a few years ago, the lists of returnees in Ezra and Nehemiah cannot be of help either, because the archaeology of the securely identified sites that are mentioned in them also hints at a Hellenistic period background.36 Therefore, the only independent way to study the territorial extent of the province is to plot the distribution of the Yehud seal impressions.37 This map does not fit the territory described in Neh 3. Yehud seems to have extended from Mizpah in the north to Ramat Rahel in the south, possibly slightly further, though Beth-zur probably remained outside it; and from Jericho and En-Gedi in the east to the border of the Shephelah in the west (no Yehud impressions were found in any of the sites of the upper Shephelah). A few years ago I assembled the archaeological data on the settlement patterns in this area in the Persian period. I estimated the total built-up area in Yehud at c. 60 hectares, which can be translated into c. 12,000 people – about half of the low numbers proposed previously.38 This estimate suggests a dramatic settlement and demographic decline relative to the situation in the Iron IIC. It contradicts scholars who tend to belittle the scope of the catastrophe that befell Judah in 586 BCE;39 it also supports the notion that the “return” to Yehud was more a trickle than a flood. Ofer reported that, in the Persian period, the settlement system south of Hebron, beyond the border of Yehud, “almost died out”.40 The Beer-sheba Valley is almost devoid of evidence of habitation at that time,41 and activity in the key sites in the desert south of the Beer-sheba Valley was also weak.42 The same holds true for the Edomite plateau.43 The low settlement system in the south is probably the result of a phase of dry climate, as indicated by Dead Sea palynological research led by Tel Aviv University archaeobotanist Dafna Langgut and myself. Regarding material culture, a crucial piece of evidence for the Babylonian and Persian periods has not been given sufficient attention. I refer to the disappearance of Hebrew writing from the archaeological record. In comparison with the unprecedented prosperity in scribal activity and literacy in the Iron IIC which, as I have shown above, penetrated into the lowest echelons of the Judahite administration, the southern highlands in the Babylonian and Persian periods show almost no evidence of Hebrew inscriptions. In fact, the only (meagre) evidence comes from the few YHD coins which date to the fourth century BCE, and coins can hardly attest to genuine scribal activity. This means 36

FINKELSTEIN, “List of Returnees”. Types 1–12 in LIPSCHITS / VANDERHOOFT, Yehud Stamp Impressions. 38 FINKELSTEIN, “Territorial Extent”, compared to CARTER, Emergence of Yehud, 195–205; LIPSCHITS, “Demographic Changes”, 364. 39 Also FAUST, Judah, contra, e.g., BARSTAD, Myth. 40 OFER, “Hill Country”, 106. 41 For instance, not a single Persian period site was found in the eastern part of the valley – BEIT-ARIEH, Map of Tel Malhata, *12. 42 FINKELSTEIN, “Wilderness Narrative”. 43 BIENKOWSKI, “New Evidence”. 37

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that not a single securely-dated inscription has been found for the period between 586 and c. 350 BCE: not an ostracon, nor a seal, not a seal impression nor a bulla (the little that we know of this period is in Aramaic, the script of the Persian empire)! This can hardly be a coincidence. I am not suggesting, of course, that the knowledge of writing Hebrew disappeared; but scribal activity declined – and significantly so.

Some Implications for Pentateuchal Studies My observations below are based on archaeological and historical data and are limited to specific issues. Moreover they are no more than illustrations; combining modern archaeological research with text analysis can lead to many more insights. Chronologically, I should start with Bethel. Scholars have suggested that the Bethel temple served as the “repository” and place of composition of northern biblical traditions such as the Jacob cycle and the Book of Saviours in Judges.44 This proposed scribal activity is best associated with the period of prosperity at Bethel in the Iron IIB in the eighth century. Archaeology cannot help in deciding between the years before or after the destruction of the northern kingdom. Historical considerations – the need to promote foundation myths of the north in the period of reorganization of the kingdom under Jeroboam II – may favour the former possibility.45 The Deir Alla and Ajrud plaster texts – both affiliated with the North and dated to the first half of the eighth century – demonstrate that this is a viable possibility. The other side of this coin is no less important: scholars have proposed that Bethel served as a prominent cult place and centre of learning in the Babylonian period.46 This idea is contradicted by the archaeological evidence, which shows weak activity in the late seventh and early sixth centuries, probably no activity in much of the Babylonian and certainly no activity in the Persian period.47 Thomas Römer and I recently suggested, following de Pury and Blum,48 that the early layer in the Jacob cycle originated relatively early in the Iron Age and was put in writing at Bethel in the early eighth century. In other words, the northern kingdom had an eponym-ancestor tradition – first oral and then written. We added that this tradition developed in a restricted area in the Gilead – in the Jabbok basin and south of it – and only later, in our view, in connection with 44

KNAUF, “Bethel”, 319–322. For possible concentration of cult activity in the North at that time see NA’AMAN, “Abandonment”. 46 PAKKALA, “Jeroboam’s Sin”; BLENKINSOPP, “Bethel”; KNAUF, “Bethel”; GOMES, Sanctuary of Bethel. 47 FINKELSTEIN / SINGER-AVITZ, “Bethel”. 48 DE PURY, “Cycle de Jacob”; BLUM, “Jacob Tradition”. 45

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reorganization of the kingdom in the days of Jeroboam II, became a “national” myth of the North and was “moved” to Bethel too.49 These observations call attention to the South. In view of the settlement, demographic and scribal prosperity in Judah in the Iron IIB–C, it is difficult to imagine that there were no southern shrines with competing traditions while the two Hebrew kingdoms lived side by side and after the fall of Israel. This was one of the reasons Römer and I proposed that the original Abraham tradition developed in a cult place in the vicinity of Hebron, perhaps the holy Oak of Mamre.50 The original, Iron Age Mamre could have been a shrine connected to a sacred tree or grove. Considering that the place of memory of an ancestor is in many cases a shrine related to his grave, it is also possible that there was a burial tradition of Abraham in the area of Hebron already in monarchic times. Machpelah asher al penei (in front of; east of; overlooking?) Mamre is a different story. The origin of this concept may be sought in the geo-political situation of the Persian period, if not somewhat later: the original cult-place (and possibly sacred tomb) was left outside the province of Yehud, so a tradition developed according to which there was a Mamre somewhere at Hebron and a grave at Machpelah slightly to its north. Note that Herod the Great constructed two monuments – one for the tomb and another for the shrine. Outside the Pentateuch and the genealogies in Chronicles, Isaac is mentioned independently of the patriarchal triad only in Amos 7:9 and 16, where he seems to represent the South in opposition, or parallel, to the North. If the Isaac tradition indeed comes from the Beer-sheba Valley,51 it must have originated in the Iron Age, because the area was far from Yehud and, after 586 BCE, very sparsely inhabited (possibly not inhabited at all). It is therefore plausible that there was a second ancestor figure in the South, possibly venerated in a sanctuary at Beer-sheba. In the seventh century Abraham may have had two “sons”, Isaac in the Beer-sheba Valley and Ishmael in the areas further to the south, in the “deep” desert.52 This may depict realities of the time: Judahite settlement in the Beer-sheba Valley peaked in the late eighth and seventh centuries BCE; activity further south characterizes the same period, when Judahites served in Kadeshbarnea and probably also in the Assyrian forts along the Arabian trade routes. The possibility of the existence of an Iron II Abraham tradition in Judah raises the question of the merging of the late-monarchic southern Abraham and older northern Jacob cycles into a single Judahite tradition. And this, in turn, raises – yet again – the question of the “migration” of northern traditions to Judah. There is no escape from the archaeological evidence of a dramatic demographic transformation in Judah in the second half of the eighth century and 49

FINKELSTEIN / RÖMER, “Jacob”. FINKELSTEIN / RÖMER, “Abraham”. 51 NOTH, Pentateuchal Traditions, 103–107. 52 FINKELSTEIN / RÖMER, “Abraham”. 50

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the early seventh century BCE.53 This can in no way be explained as the result of natural population growth, economic prosperity or intra-Judahite movement of people. I therefore insist that many of the new settlers in Jerusalem and the highlands of Judah originated in the territory of Israel, mainly from the southern Samaria highlands, where surveys demonstrate deterioration of settlement activity after 720 BCE. Appearance of items of North Israelite material culture in Judah starting in the late eighth century supports this historical reconstruction. I refer to stone installations for olive-oil extraction, northern pottery forms, ashlar masonry, proto-Ionic capitals, longitudinal pillared buildings which served as stables, and rock-cut tombs. The number of Israelites in Judah was probably large enough to force biblical authors to be mindful of their most important traditions. Of course, some of these traditions could have reached Judah in later times – for instance, Israelite texts could have been preserved at Bethel and found their way to Jerusalem when Judah appropriated this shrine in the late seventh century. In any event, it is reasonable to assume that the merging of the Jacob and Abraham stories was undertaken after 720 BCE but before 586 BCE.54 The Book of Numbers presents an intriguing case of centuries-old memories in a late composition. Archaeology and extra-biblical historical sources, most significantly the Mesha Stele, indicate that, although it is the latest book in the Pentateuch,55 Numbers preserves shreds of Israelite traditions regarding the conquest of the mishor (the plain) from a late Canaanite king who ruled from Heshbon, as well as “memories” about the existence of an early Moabite kingdom south of the Arnon River. These traditions can come only from the days of the Omrides – the only period when Israel ruled over territories in northern Moab.56 If so, how and when did these traditions find their way to Judah and to a late text such as Numbers? The stories must have first been transmitted in the northern kingdom orally (they may have originated in the temple of YHWH at Nebo, referred to in the Mesha Inscription) and were probably put in writing (elsewhere) in the first half of the eighth century. Promotion of memories of Israelite presence in northern Moab could have served Northern territorial ambitions in the days of Jeroboam II; indeed, another layer in Numbers puts the border with Moab on the northern tip of the Dead Sea – in line with the situation in late-monarchic times. The written early North Israelite traditions regarding Moab came to be known in Judah in the decades after 720 BCE, were preserved there in ways not disclosed to us, and still later were incorporated into Yehudite / early Judean works and given a southern orientation. Regarding Transjordan in the Book of Numbers, attention should also be given to the lists of towns built by the tribes of Gad and Reuben in Num 53

BROSHI, “Expansion”; FINKELSTEIN / SILBERMAN, “Temple and Dynasty”; updated in FINKELSTEIN, “Migration”. 54 FINKELSTEIN / RÖMER, “Abraham”. 55 RÖMER, “Israel’s Sojourn”. 56 FINKELSTEIN / RÖMER, “Moab”.

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32:34–38. Six of the places mentioned are excavated and well identified – Dibon, Ataroth, Aroer, Jazer, Heshbon and Nebo. They have produced rich Iron Age and Hellenistic finds, but no Persian period material. This piece of evidence, too, cannot be brushed aside when dealing with the process of compilation of texts in the Pentateuch; either we are facing a memory of the situation in the later phases of the Iron Age or an old memory combined with a later (Hellenistic period?) situation. Numbers brings me to the desert-wanderings lists. This material has been the subject of intensive research, including issues of sources and redactions.57 Scholars such as Noth, Fritz and Davies assumed that the itineraries are based on early materials.58 If so, the period from which these toponyms originated can be located in two ways: the archaeology of sites that can be securely identified and possible knowledge of the southern deserts by biblical authors.59 For the latter, let me start with the period of the latest redaction(s) of the text by Priestly or post-Priestly scribes, probably in the Persian period, and then pull back chronologically. As I have indicated above, the sparsely settled and demographically depleted province of Yehud stretched no further than Beth-zur in the south. There was no Jewish presence at that time in the southern Hebron hills or the Beer-sheba Valley, and activity at the key sites in the south was weak. Under these circumstances, Priestly author(s)’ knowledge of the southern desert must have been fragmentary at best. The toponyms that appear in the wandering narrative and itineraries can hardly represent Persian-period realities. In the closing decades of its history, after the Assyrian pull-out, Judah was still strongly present in the Beer-sheba Valley. Further to the southwest, finds at Kadesh-barnea indicate that the fort continued to function after Assyria’s withdrawal, probably under Judahite auspices.60 The Arad ostraca, dated c. 600 BCE, mention movement of units and shipment of commodities in the south, probably also beyond the Beer-sheba Valley.61 The “Assyrian Century” – c. 730–630 BCE – evidenced the strongest Judahite activity in the southern desert. This was the time of peak prosperity in the Beer-sheba Valley. The towns and forts there, and especially markets and khans, were places where Judahite merchants and administrators met Edomites and Arabs from the desert.62 Beyond the Beer-sheba Valley, the Assyrians controlled the desert trade routes from several pivotal strongholds, which were probably manned by local people – Edomites, Arabs and possibly also Judahites. 57

For instance, NOTH, “Sinai”; idem, Numbers, 242–246; COATS, “Wilderness Itineraries”; DAVIES, “Wilderness Itineraries”; RÖMER, “Israel’s Sojourn”. 58 NOTH, Numbers, 243; idem, Pentateuchal Traditions, 224–227; FRITZ, Israel, 116–117; DAVIES, “Wilderness Itineraries”. 59 For both see in detail in FINKELSTEIN, “Wilderness Narrative”. 60 COHEN / BERNICK-GREENBERG, Kadesh Barnea. 61 AHARONI, Arad Inscriptions, 15. 62 THAREANI-SUSSELY, Tel ‘Aroer, 301–307.

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Information about the south could also have been transmitted by Arab merchants who visited Jerusalem.63 What is clear from this short review is that detailed knowledge of the south, accompanied by lists of toponyms, probably represents a pre-586 reality. Needless to say, the incorporation of this material into the biblical texts could have taken place later. Much of what I discussed above indicates that the Pentateuch includes significant traditions that come from the Iron Age, and that at least some of them were probably put in writing for the first time in the later phase of the Iron Age. This old material went through several stages of redaction in the Persian and possibly the Hellenistic period, and much material was added at that time. But where was this done? This question brings me to the issue of composition of biblical texts in Yehud of the Persian period, in fact also in Judea of early Hellenistic times. As I have already shown, there is almost no evidence for Hebrew writing in Yehud in c. 586–350 BCE, and very little evidence until c. 200 BCE. This should come as no surprise: the destruction of Judah brought about the collapse of the kingdom’s bureaucracy and deportation of many of the educated intelligentsia – the literati; the “vinedressers and ploughmen” who remained in the land were hardly capable of producing written documents. This should serve as a warning signal to those who tend to place much biblical material in Persian period Yehud. My humble advice is therefore twofold: First, to try to date as much material as possible to periods in Judah / Judea that demonstrate widespread scribal activity and literacy in all media and all forms of inscriptions, that is, the latest phase of the Iron Age and Late Hellenistic period after c. 200 BCE. The latter possibility calls for a clarification – is it possible that material was added to the Pentateuch as late as the second century BCE? A good example is the Melchizedek episode in Genesis 14, which may be understood against the background of the Hasmonean period.64 The translation of the Torah into Greek is commonly supposed to have taken place during the third century BCE, and it may be difficult to imagine that the first Greek translation was based on a Hebrew text to which whole chapters were later added. On the other hand, it is also obvious that the translated Hebrew text was not yet considered as fixed and stable and that the Greek Torah text is the result of revisions that persisted into the Hasmonean period.65 So it is possible that, even after a first translation into Greek, short passages were added or revised.66 My second piece of advice is, for the time between c. 600 and 200 BCE, especially the Babylonian and Persian periods, to place the compilation of as much material as possible in Babylonia.67 Of course, I accept that there must 63

SHILOH, “South Arabian Inscriptions”; LEMAIRE, “New Perspectives”. SOGGIN, “Abraham”. 65 TILLY, Septuaginta, 57–58, 81–87. 66 FINKELSTEIN / RÖMER, “Abraham”. 67 For instance, ALBERTZ, Israel in Exile. But this raises the question of how Hebrew was preserved in the communities of the exiles. 64

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have been continuity in production of literary works in Yehud (after all, the ability to write Hebrew texts must have been somehow preserved to make revival of Hebrew in the second century BCE possible); one can imagine, for instance, a secluded, educated priestly group near the temple. But even this is not an elegant solution, as I would have expected something to leak into daily life. In short, I too am tantalized by this fact and can only urge scholars not to ignore the archaeological evidence – despite the fact that at times it is mainly negative, and even if it threatens to shatter slick, fad-driven theories.

Literature AHARONI, Y., Arad Inscriptions, Jerusalem 1981. AHITUV, S., Echoes from the Past: Hebrew and Cognate Inscriptions from the Biblical Period, Jerusalem 2008. AHITUV, S. et al., “The Inscriptions”, in: Z. Meshel (ed.), Kuntillet ‘Ajrud (Horvat Teman): An Iron Age II Religious Site on the Judah–Sinai Border, Jerusalem 2012, 73–142. ALBERTZ, R., Israel in Exile: The History and Literature of the Sixth Century B.C.E., Atlanta 2003. ALBRIGHT, W. F., “Abraham the Hebrew: A New Archaeological Interpretation”, BASOR 163 (1961) 36–54. BARKAY, G., “The King’s Palace and ‘The House of the People’ in Jerusalem at the Time of the Babylonian Conquest”, New Studies on Jerusalem 9 (2003) 21–28 (Hebrew). BARKAY, G. / ZWEIG, I., “The Project of Sifting Soil from the Temple Mount – Preliminary Report”, New Studies on Jerusalem 11 (2006) 213–237 (Hebrew). BARSTAD, H. M., The Myth of the Empty Land, Oslo 1996. BEIT-ARIEH, I., Archaeological Survey of Israel, Map of Tel Malhata (144), Jerusalem 2003. BIENKOWSKI, P., “New Evidence on Edom in the Neo-Babylonian and Persian Periods”, in: J. A. Dearman / M.P. Graham (eds.), The Land That I Will Show You. Essays in the History and Archaeology of the Ancient Near East in Honour of J. Maxwell Miller, Sheffield 2001, 198–213. BLENKINSOPP, J., “Bethel in the Neo-Babylonian Period”, in: O. Lipschits / J. Blenkinsopp (eds.), Judah and the Judeans in the Neo-Babylonian Period, Winona Lake 2003, 93–107. BLUM, E., “The Jacob Tradition”, in: C. A. Evans et al. (eds.), The Book of Genesis: Composition, Reception, and Interpretation (VT.S 152), Leiden 2012, 181–211. BROSHI, M., “The Expansion of Jerusalem in the Reigns of Hezekiah and Manasseh”, IEJ 24 (1974) 21–26. CARTER, C. E., The Emergence of Yehud in the Persian Period, Sheffield 1999. COATS, G. W., “Wilderness Itineraries”, CBQ 34 (1972) 135–152. COHEN, R. / BERNICK-GREENBERG, H., Excavations at Kadesh Barnea (Tell el-Qudeirat) 1976–1982 (IAA Reports 34), Jerusalem 2007. DAVIES, G. I., “The Wilderness Itineraries and the Composition of the Pentateuch”, VT 33 (1983) 1–13. DE GROOT, A., “Discussion and Conclusions”, in: idem / H. Bernick-Greenberg, Excavations at the City of David 1978–1985 Directed by Yigal Shiloh, vol. 7A, Area E: Stratigraphy and Architecture, Text (Qedem 53), Jerusalem 2012, 141–184.

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DVIRA (ZWEIG), Z. et al., “Secondary Refuse Aggregates from the First and Second Temple Periods on the Eastern Slope of the Temple Mount”, New Studies on Jerusalem 17 (2011) 63–106. EDELSTEIN, G., “A Terraced Farm at Er-Ras”, Atiqot 40 (2000) 39–63. FAIGENBAUM-GOLOVIN, S. et al., “Computerized Paleographic Investigation of Hebrew Iron Age Ostraca”, Radiocarbon 57 (2015) 317–325. —, “Algorithmic Handwriting Analysis of Judah’s Military Correspondence Sheds Light on Composition of Biblical Texts”, PNAS 113 (2016) 4664–4669. FAUST, A., Judah in the Neo-Babylonian Period: The Archaeology of Desolation, Atlanta 2012. FINKELSTEIN, I., “The Settlement History of Jerusalem in the Eighth and Seventh Centuries BCE”, RB 115 (2008) 499–515. —, “Jerusalem in the Persian (and Early Hellenistic) Period and the Wall of Nehemiah”, JSOT 32 (2008) 501–520. —, “The Archaeology of the List of Returnees in Ezra and Nehemiah”, PEQ 140 (2008) 7–16. —, “The Territorial Extent and Demography of Yehud / Judea in the Persian and Early Hellenistic Periods”, RB 117 (2010) 39–54. —, “The Wilderness Narrative and Itineraries and the Evolution of the Exodus Tradition”, in: T. E. Levy et al. (eds.), Israel’s Exodus in Transdisciplinary Perspective: Text, Archaeology, Culture, and Geoscience, New York 2015, 39–54. —, “Migration of Israelites into Judah after 720 BCE: An Answer and an Update”, ZAW 127 (2015) 188–206. FINKELSTEIN, I. et al., “The Mound on the Mount: A Solution to the ‘Problem with Jerusalem’?” JHS 11 (2011). FINKELSTEIN, I. / RÖMER, T., “Comments on the Historical Background of the Jacob Narrative in Genesis”, ZAW 126 (2014) 317–338. —, “Comments on the Historical Background of the Abraham Narrative: Between ‘Realia’ and Exegetica”, HeBAI 3 (2014) 3–23. —, “Early North Israelite ‘Memories’ on Moab”, in: J. C. Gertz et al. (eds.), The Formation of the Pentateuch: Bridging the Academic Cultures between Europe, Israel and North America (FAT), Tübingen (forthcoming). FINKELSTEIN, I. / SASS, B., “The West Semitic Alphabetic Inscriptions, Late Bronze II to IronIIA: Archeological Context, Distribution and Chronology”, HeBAI 2 (2013) 149–220. FINKELSTEIN, I. / SILBERMAN, N. A., “Temple and Dynasty: Hezekiah, the Remaking of Judah and the Rise of the Pan-Israelite Ideology”, JSOT 30 (2006) 259–285. FINKELSTEIN, I. / SINGER-AVITZ, L., “Reevaluating Bethel”, ZDPV 125 (2009) 33–48. FRITZ, V., Israel in der Wüste: Traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung der Wüstenüberlieferung des Jahwisten. Marburg 1970. GEVA, H., “Western Jerusalem at the End of the First Temple Period in Light of the Excavations in the Jewish Quarter”, in: A. G. Vaughn / A. E. Killebrew (eds.), Jerusalem in Bible and Archaeology: The First Temple Period, Atlanta 2003, 183–208. GEVA, H. / AVIGAD, N., “Area A: Stratigraphy and Architecture, Introduction”, in: H. Geva (ed.), Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem, vol. 1, Architecture and Stratigraphy: Areas A, W and X-2, Final Report, Jerusalem 2000, 37–43. —, “Area W: Stratigraphy and Architecture”, in: H. Geva (ed.), Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem, vol. 1, 131–197. —, “Area X-2: Stratigraphy and Architecture”, in: H. Geva (ed.), Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem, vol. 1, 199–240. GOMES, J. F, The Sanctuary of Bethel and the Configuration of Israelite Identity, Berlin 2006. GORDON, C. H., “Biblical Customs and the Nuzu Tablets”, in: E. F. Campbell / D. N. Freedman (eds.), The Biblical Archaeologist Reader, vol. 2, Garden City 1964, 21–33.

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KELSO, J. L., The Excavation of Bethel (1934–1960) (AASOR 39), Cambridge 1968. KNAUF, E. A., “Bethel: The Israelite Impact on Judean Language and Literature”, in: O. Lipschits / M. Oeming (eds.), Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, Winona Lake 2006, 291–349. LEMAIRE, A., “New Perspectives on the Trade between Judah and South Arabia”, in: M. Lubetski (ed.), New Inscriptions and Seals Relating to the Biblical World, Atlanta 2012, 93–110. LIPSCHITS, O., “Demographic Changes in Judah between the Seventh and the Fifth Centuries B.C.E.”, in: O. Lipschits / J. Blenkinsopp (eds.), Judah and the Judeans in the New Babylonian Period, Winona Lake 2003, 323–376. —, The Fall and Rise of Jerusalem, Winona Lake 2005. —, “Persian Period Finds from Jerusalem: Facts and Interpretations”, JHS 9 (2009) art. 20. LIPSCHITS, O. / VANDERHOOFT, D. S., The Yehud Stamp Impressions: A Corpus of Inscribed Impressions from the Persian and Hellenistic Periods in Judah. Winona Lake 2011. MAZAR, A., “The Excavations at Khirbet Abu et-Twein and the System of Iron Age Fortresses in Judah”, EI 15 (1981) 229–249. MAZAR, A. et al., “The ‘Boarder Road’ between Michmash and Jericho and Excavations at Horvat Shilhah”, EI 17 (1984) 236–250 (Hebrew). MAZAR, E. / MAZAR, B., Excavations in the South of the Temple Mount: The Ophel of Biblical Jerusalem (Qedem 29), Jerusalem 1989. NA’AMAN, N., “The Contribution of the Amarna Letters to the Debate on Jerusalem’s Political Position in the Tenth Century B.C.E.”, BASOR 304 (1996) 17–27. —, “The Abandonment of Cult Places in the Kingdoms of Israel and Judah as Acts of Cult Reform”, UF 34 (2002) 585–602. —, “When and How Did Jerusalem Become a Great City? The Rise of Jerusalem as Judah’s Premier City in the Eighth-Seventh Centuries B.C.E.”, BASOR 347 (2007) 21–56. —, “The Inscriptions of Kuntillet ’Ajrud through the Lens of Historical Research”, UF 43 (2012) 1–43. —, “Dismissing the Myth of a Flood of Israelite Refugees in the Late Eight Century BCE”, ZAW 126 (2014) 1–14. NOTH, M., “Der Wallfahrtsweg zum Sinai (Nu 33)”, PJb 36 (1940) 5–28. —, Numbers: A Commentary, London 1968. —, A History of Pentateuchal Traditions, Sheffield 1981. OFER, A., “ ‘All the Hill Country of Judah’: From Settlement Fringe to a Prosperous Monarchy”, in: I. Finkelstein / N. Na’aman (eds.), From Nomadism to Monarchy: Archaeological and Historical Aspects of Early Israel, Jerusalem 1994, 92–121. PAKKALA, J., “Jeroboam’s Sin and Bethel in 1 Kgs 12:25–33”, BN 112 (2002) 86–93. PURY, A. DE, “Situer le cycle de Jacob: quelques réflexions, vingt-cinq ans plus tard”, in: A. Wénin (ed.), Studies in the Book of Genesis: Literature, Redaction and History (BETL 155), Leuven 2001, 213–241. REICH, R. et al., “Recent Discoveries in the City of David, Jerusalem”, IEJ 57 (2007) 153–169. REICH, R. / SHUKRON, E., “The Urban Development of Jerusalem in the Late Eighth Century B.C.E.”, in: Vaughn / Killebrew (eds.), Jerusalem in Bible and Archaeology, 209–218. RÖMER, T., “Israel’s Sojourn in the Wilderness and the Construction of the Book of Numbers”, in: R. Rezetko et al. (eds.), Reflection and Refraction: Studies in Biblical Historiography in Honour of A. Graeme Auld, Leiden 2007, 419–445. SCHNIEDEWIND, W. M., How the Bible Became a Book: The Textualization of Ancient Israel, Cambridge 2004.

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SHARON, I. et al., “Report on the First Stage of the Iron Age Dating Project in Israel: Supporting a Low Chronology”, Radiocarbon 49 (2007) 1–46. SHILOH, Y., Excavations at the City of David I: 1978−1982, Interim Report of the First Five Seasons (Qedem 19), Jerusalem 1984. —, “South Arabian Inscriptions from the City of David, Jerusalem”, PEQ 119 (1987) 9–18. SOGGIN, J. A., “Abraham and the Eastern Kings: On Genesis 14”, in: Z. Zevit et al. (eds.), Solving Riddles and Untying Knots: Biblical Epigraphic, and Semitic Studies in Honor of Jonas C. Greenfield, Winona Lake 1995, 283–291. STEINER, M. L., Excavations by Kathleen M. Kenyon in Jerusalem 1961–1967, vol. 3, The Settlement in the Bronze and Iron Ages, London 2001. STERN, E., Material Culture of the Land of the Bible in the Persian Period, 538–332 B.C., Warminster 1982. —, Archaeology of the Land of the Bible, vol. 2, The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods (732–332 B.C.E.), New York 2001. THAREANI-SUSSELY, Y., Tel ‘Aroer: The Iron Age II Caravan Town and the HellenisticEarly Roman Settlement, Jerusalem 2011. THOMPSON, T. L., The Historicity of the Patriarchal Narratives: The Quest for the Historical Abraham, Berlin 1974. TILLY, M., Einführung in die Septuaginta, Darmstadt 2005. TOFFOLO, M. B. et al., “Absolute Chronology of Megiddo, Israel, in the Late Bronze and Iron Ages: High-Resolution Radiocarbon Dating”, Radiocarbon 56 (2014) 221–244. VAN DER TOORN, K., Family Religion in Babylonia, Syria and Israel: Continuity and Change in the Forms of Religious Life, Leiden 1996. VAN SETERS, J., Abraham in History and Tradition, New Haven 1975. VAUX, R. DE, The Early History of Israel, Philadelphia 1978. ZORN, J. et al., “The m(w)sh Stamp Impressions and the Neo-Babylonian Period”, IEJ 44 (1994) 161–183.

The Last Days of Judah and the Roots of the Pentateuch What Does History Tell Us? Lester L. Grabbe My assignment was to focus on the historical context. What I propose to do is start from what we know, or at least what I think I know, and work out from there: first, from the time when the Pentateuch was known; then back to its possible roots in the early monarchy; on to the Judahite kings, Hezekiah to Zedekiah; a brief look at the exilic period; then, finally, the Persian period, when I think the Pentateuch was finalized. The question of linguistic dating will inform the discussion at various points.

1. First Signs of the Pentateuch1 We begin with the position that is very clear to me: the Pentateuch as a collection of definite scrolls did not exist until the late Persian period. In spite of references to the “book of the law” at various points in the biblical text, such a book was unknown in the Persian-period sources before 400 BCE. Our first clear evidence for the Pentateuch as a religious document accepted by many Jews seems to be Ben Sira, sometime around 200 BCE. In his “Praise of the Fathers” he goes through most of the books of the Hebrew Bible, as they relate to various figures, but it is clear that he is at times quoting or closely paraphrasing passages from the Pentateuch (Sir 44–50). The probability that he has before him a version of our present-day Pentateuch is overwhelming, though not necessarily one agreeing precisely with the present-day Masoretic text, nor indeed with the Septuagint or the Samaritan Pentateuch. We also have the strong tradition that the Pentateuch was translated into Greek in Egypt during the reign of Ptolemy II (282–246 BCE), even if there are good reasons for doubting many of the details (Letter of Aristeas). There is no question that the writing alleged to have been translated was the Five Books of Moses. A little earlier, perhaps around 300 BCE, we have the statement of Hecataeus of Abdera that the Jews have a “written” law (Diodorus Siculus 40.3.6). 1

This summarizes discussion given at greater length in GRABBE, History, 331–343; “Elephantine”. For reasons of space, I shall only summarize certain issues if they have already been published with detailed arguments and primary and secondary bibliography.

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Yet there is also strong evidence that the Jews did not have the “Book of the Law” in the first part of the Persian period. This is shown by the Elephantine community, which observed many traditional Jewish practices, including the sabbath and Passover, and had a temple to Yahu, yet knew nothing of the Pentateuch. Not only do the extensive documents from the community not mention Moses or Aaron, or even the word tôrāh, but they were in close touch with the religious establishment in Jerusalem, knowing who the current high priest and other figures of importance were. It seems highly unlikely that the priests of Jerusalem would have been using the Pentateuch without the Elephantine community being aware of this. Yet Ezra has long been dated to the last part of the Persian period, after 400 BCE, even if this has not been so fashionable in recent decades. Even though I have been very sceptical of the Ezra tradition, I accept that such a figure may well have existed and had something to do with promulgating the Pentateuch.2 To my mind, there are good reasons for seeing the fourth century BCE as the period when the Pentateuch was compiled and promulgated, though it may have taken time to be accepted as authoritative.

2. The Judahite Monarchy 2.1 Overview In spite of modern perceptions, religion does not need a book. All sorts of religions around the world existed for millennia without a written “bible”, and some still have no such thing. This does not mean that they lack a religious tradition. Zoroastrianism apparently existed for centuries, perhaps even millennia, before its tradition was put into writing. This is why, when Islam encountered them, it put the Zoroastrians down as lacking “a book”. Yet some Zoroastrian tradition seems to go back to Zoroaster (or Zarathushtra, to use the Old Persian form of his name) himself, perhaps even as far back as the second millennium 3 BCE, if one accepts Mary Boyce’s dating. As has become the standard view in the past generation, the religion of Israel and Judah in the first part of the two monarchies was polytheistic, with multiple local places of worship. However, there was a preference for worship of the ethnic or national god YHWH, a god not part of the pantheon of the neighbouring peoples.4 In addition to a temple in Jerusalem (dating from the time of Solomon, I would argue) there seemed to have been major temples at Bethel and Dan, and perhaps in Samaria, Shechem or elsewhere. In any case, there were many 2

See GRABBE, “Penetrating”. See BOYCE, History, 181–191; however, this seems to be a minority position on the time of Zoroaster among specialists at the present. 4 The proposal that YHWH might have been worshipped by other peoples or nations has met with a resounding lack of evidence. See the discussion and sources in GRABBE, “Many Nations”. 3

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local “high places” dedicated to YHWH. Yet I think there is some substance to Morton Smith’s thesis of a “YHWH alone” movement.5 I do not see a unified movement, perhaps more of a tendency or focus in some circles, nor was it likely to have been as early as he wants to place it. But it strikes me as a cogent way of explaining the way YHWH religion developed. 2.2 Oral versus Written Israel and Judah were essentially oral societies. Writing was known from an early time, but it was used primarily for bureaucratic purposes, mainly short documents and inscriptions: legal documents, sales transactions, public monumental inscriptions, lists, seals and the like. Writing especially, but also reading, was confined to a very few, mostly scribes. It was not just that writing materials were scarce and the need for them even scarcer, but there was no literature accessible to most of the population. There was no point in learning to read if there was nothing to read: no books, no written literature, no Kindles.6 The scribes seem mostly to have been priests. Priests were also the repository of Israelite traditions. Of course, the general traditions of the people were handed down throughout the population, including family and local traditions, but probably also some relating to the people or nation as a whole. When a royal court was established, it kept certain public records, including a court chronicle. But it was the priests who would have had a particular responsibility to preserve traditions about the nation, about religion, about origins and creation, as well as how the sacrificial system, with its many rules of purity and procedure, was to be conducted. There was little need for much of this to be written down. Priests passed on the essential conduct of the cult by personal instruction and example. Thus, when Israelite tradition began to be committed to writing is a major question. We have some early poetry. It is almost universally agreed that the Song of Deborah in Judg 5 goes back to the tenth or eleventh century BCE, and there are arguments that the Song of Moses in Exod 15 is at least as old.7 But these are poetry and could have been passed down orally. Frank Cross talked about “Hebrew epic”, but this was pure hypothesis: there is no evidence that Israelite traditions were in the form of epic poetry.8 If they were, we would also expect to find this literary form in the preserved literature. After all, Homer and Hesiod were written down as poetry, not translated into prose. Why should Israelite epic have been any different, if such a thing ever existed? 5

SMITH, Palestinian. On the development of writing and literacy in ancient Israel, see GRABBE, Ancient Israel, 115–118; NIEMANN, “Kein Ende”. 7 See ROBERTSON, Linguistic, on Exodus 15 and Judges 5; KNAUF, “Deborah’s Language”, on Judg 5. 8 CROSS, Canaanite. 6

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2.3 Migration of Northerners to Judah? An issue relevant to our question has to do with the migration of a large number of Israelites into Judah after the Assyrian destruction of Samaria, since it is often argued that northern religious traditions were brought to Judah at that time. There seems to be no question that the population of Jerusalem and Judah expanded then, but was it because of significant enhancement by population elements from the North? Nadav Na’aman has made a strong argument that it was not.9 He does not question the archaeological evidence for an increase in population, and of course some people from the former Kingdom of Israel may have moved there, but he considers areas where we should find evidence for Israelites (e.g., whether there is an increase in the proportion of theophoric names with -yahu, which was the form of the name YHWH found in northern names, as opposed to -yah in Judah). Israel Finkelstein has more recently opposed this interpretation.10 But even if Na’aman turns out to be correct, this does not negate the Northern connection for the Deuteronomic tradition, because it does not take a huge number of migrants to bring this information to Jerusalem. A single manuscript or a handful of professional tradents would be sufficient to bring a new religious tradition into a new environment. Neither does it require a large proportion of the population to be literate, because the initial propagation is to priests and scribes who are the ones to study, understand, edit and disseminate this new teaching. The Jerusalem priests probably found the new tradition quite compatible since it would have paralleled in many ways their own traditions. To put it another way, the place of D during this time is a separate question, as we shall see. 2.4 Was Any of the Pentateuch Written Down Early? Now we can ask: was any of the Pentateuch written at this time, in the eighth or seventh centuries? I wish to make two points: • The ideas of those who see the composition of the Pentateuch on the analogy of Herodotus’ writing are appealing.11 We have good reason to believe that Herodotus used a variety of sources, many of them probably oral, in his Histories.12 But this could explain the composition of parts of Genesis and Exodus, at least. • Some of the Pentateuch could have been written during the last part of the eighth century or the seventh century, leaving aside the question of D, which will be discussed below. For example, a recent article on the Jacob tradition argued for a written story by the eighth century, though the original oral story is 9

NA’AMAN, “Dismissing”. FINKELSTEIN, “Migration”. 11 This first seems to have been suggested by VAN SETERS, In Search, especially 356–362. WHYBRAY, Making, provides a good overview of the discussion up to the time of his writing. 12 On this question, see SHRIMPTON, History, 229–265; LATEINER, Historical Method, 92–108. 10

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assumed to be earlier, and the written version went through several redactional stages before reaching its present form.13 The question of linguistic dating will be discussed at greater length below, but at this point we can note that the narratives of Genesis and the first part of Exodus, however you divide them between sources, seem to be in Standard Biblical Hebrew. A recent linguistic study of the alleged J source argued that all its characteristics are of Standard Biblical Hebrew, without any signs of Late Biblical Hebrew.14 We can debate the existence of J, but it and the prose material in which it was embedded is suggested to be a time well before the exilic period. Although original estimates put J very early, more recent study has demonstrated the difficulties of assuming the dating of significant written material before the eighth century. 2.5 Religious Changes in the Seventh Century The religious pluralism that characterized Judah began to change, perhaps in the eighth century BCE, but the transformation is especially evident in the seventh century. At this time we find a number of indications that old forms that were part of the earlier religion of Israel and Judah were being given up. Two important ones are especially evident. First, the astral imagery that was widespread in the late eighth and seventh centuries had disappeared from seals and seal impressions of the Jerusalem elite by the early sixth. Secondly, the blessing and salvation functions of YHWH’s “Asherah”, known from several inscriptions, had been absorbed by YHWH by the time of the Lachish and Arad ostraca.15 2.6 The Dating of Deuteronomy Deuteronomy has long been dated to the eighth or seventh centuries BCE. There are two strong arguments in support of this dating. The first has to do with the structure of Deuteronomy, viz., the fact that Deut 4:44–28:68 is structured on the same lines as the Assyrian vassal treaty. Although George Mendenhall had argued for the influence of the Hittite treaty on the Pentateuch – wrongly, as it now seems – the model of the Assyrian vassal treaty seems to have first been pointed out by Dennis J. McCarthy.16 Hans Ulrich Steymans argued that sections of Deut 28 were quoted from Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty.17 More recently, 13 FINKELSTEIN / RÖMER, “Comments”. It should be noted that NA’AMAN, “Jacob Story” dated the story to the exilic period, which is approximately where the final version is placed by Finkelstein and Römer. 14 WRIGHT, Linguistic. 15 UEHLINGER, “Kultreform”; idem, “Cult Reform”. 16 For the proposal of the Hittite treaty, see MENDENHALL, Law. For a cogent argument against Mendenhall’s thesis, see MCCARTHY, Treaty, 51–85. For his development of the Assyrian treaty model, see MCCARTHY, Treaty, 157–205. 17 STEYMANS, Deuteronomium. For a copy of the treaty, see the recent edition of Parpola and Watanabe (SAA II 6).

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the find of another copy of Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty at Tell Tayinat, which fills in some gaps in the text, has given additional support to this interpretation.18 All of this puts the composition of Deuteronomy firmly in the Assyrian period, probably after the time of Tiglath-pilesar III. The second argument has to do with the measures taken by Josiah that have long been associated with Deuteronomy. (For more on this, see under “3.3 Josiah” below.) 2.7 The Question of an Imposed Assyrian Cult Also relevant to the issue of scriptural development is the question of whether there was an imposed Assyrian cult. From the early days of cuneiform study it was argued that the Assyrians imposed their god Ashur on conquered peoples.19 This consensus was challenged by two works that appeared about the same time. First, John McKay argued that there are no indications of Assyrian cults in any of the accounts of the kings under Assyrian rule: Ahaz, Hezekiah, Manasseh, Josiah.20 Independently of McKay, Mordechai Cogan also argued against an imposed Assyrian cult, his focus being on the cuneiform texts to try to determine Assyrian practice.21 Hermann Spieckermann replied to both monographs, though most of his arguments related more to Cogan’s work.22 Cogan eventually replied to Spieckermann and, not surprisingly, reaffirmed the view that there was no evidence for imposed cults and that those described in the Bible seem to be indigenous ones.23 More recently, Steven Holladay has surveyed the arguments and noted that Assyriologists see things in a more nuanced and less dogmatic way, noting the difficulty in determining Assyrian policy and practice. In the end, however, he seems to give qualified support to the view that Assyria did not 18 LAUINGER, “Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty”, gives the text. See also idem, “Some Preliminary Thoughts”. STEYMANS, “Deuteronomy”, strengthens the author’s original argument with regard to Deut 28, and LEVINSON, “Ursprünge”, argues for use of the Esarhaddon Treaty in Deut 13:1. My thanks to Jean-Pierre Sonnet, who drew my attention to this new find at Tell Tayinat. 19 Apparently first proposed by George Rawlinson, according to MCKAY, Religion, 1–4. 20 MCKAY, Religion. McKay also pointed out the importance of astral cults in the biblical account, which he ascribed to Canaanite practices rather than Assyrian. A telling point made by McKay is that the description of the cults set up under Manasseh and removed by Josiah indicates they were Syro-Phoenician, not Assyrian. 21 COGAN, Imperialism. He noted that the Assyrians made good use of the concept of divine abandonment by the gods. Although the Assyrians occasionally destroyed the images and temples of recalcitrant peoples, their normal practice was to take the images of native gods to Assyrian territories. The treaties with conquered peoples invoked Ashur, and the Assyrians certainly understood submission to Assyria as submission to Ashur, yet this does not imply cultic obligations. Regions that were turned into Assyrian provinces, however, were considered Assyrian and their peoples Assyrian citizens; in such cases an Assyrian cult was established (before “Ashur’s weapon”, the symbol of Assyrian rule) though native cults were not prohibited. 22 SPIECKERMANN, Juda. 23 COGAN, “Judah”.

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generally impose cultic obligations on client states.24 What is clear, however is that the seventh century BCE was a time of major religious changes in Judah, as we shall see in the next section.

3. Historical Background on the Last Century of Judah The purpose of this section is to summarize the reigns of the main kings of Judah (beginning with Hezekiah, but omitting Amon and Jehoahaz) and what was happening during those reigns as it relates to religion and the possible development toward the Pentateuch. 3.1 Hezekiah The account of Hezekiah’s reign begins with a religious and cultic reform (2 Kgs 18:3–6). This reform has been widely accepted in scholarship,25 but it is now also widely questioned as nothing but a literary creation from the Josiah tradition.26 Even the biblical text accepts that the high places were not removed before Hezekiah, even if it continually castigates this state of affairs. It makes Hezekiah the first one to remove the high places in Judah (2 Kgs 18:4), but the extent to which Hezekiah was a religious reformer, as opposed to a nationalist, is a moot point. He clearly made efforts to break away from the Assyrian yoke, but religious reform was not necessary to do this. At the moment, I find myself in the sceptical camp, though I am open to any evidence for a first religious initiative under Hezekiah. The problem is that it looks very much like the reform later ascribed to Josiah. Did Josiah try to revive what failed under Hezekiah, or did the biblical writer borrow from Josiah’s story to improve Hezekiah’s piety by literary invention? In his more recent study of 2002, Na’aman looked at the abandonment of cult places as a result of alleged cult reforms, with special emphasis on Arad and Beersheba; he concluded that these represented an attempt to consolidate royal power. The latest discussion, by Zeev Herzog, continues to argue that the cancelling of the temples at Arad and Beersheba supports the story of Hezekiah’s reform.27 His is mainly a critique of Na’aman, claiming that the latter has completely misunderstood the archaeology. However, he does not really respond to Knauf’s restructuring and redating of the archaeology that places the dismantling of the temples under Manasseh (see below). It should also be kept in mind that David Ussishkin redated the sanctuary to the seventh century and put the cancellation of it to the sixth century BCE.28 L. S. Fried argued that the archaeology of the 24

HOLLOWAY, Aššur. My thanks to Peter Dubovsky, who kindly reminded me of this study. E.g., ALBERTZ, History, vol.1, 180–186. 26 NA’AMAN, “Debated”; idem, “Abandonment”. 27 HERZOG, “Perspectives”; see also idem, “Date”. 28 USSISHKIN, “Date”, esp. 156. 25

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bāmôt does not support the alleged cult reforms of the text.29 Since part of the argument revolves around the interpretation of the archaeology, I shall leave this part of the debate to the archaeologists. Herzog complains: The suggestion to interpret finds related to remains of cult at Arad and Tel Beer-sheba as evidence of cultic reform in general, and the reform of King Hezekiah in particular, has won the support of archaeologists and – at the same time – the sharp criticism mainly of Historians and Biblical scholars.30

As a historian and biblical scholar I cannot but feel that Herzog has missed something, and that the archaeology is not the whole argument.31 It should not be overlooked that Herzog dismisses the event of a religious reform under Josiah, which seems even more radical than dismissing a reform under Hezekiah. 3.2 Manasseh What emerges from recent study is the importance of the reign of Manasseh. Far from being a time of depravity and fear, many think it represents a remarkable recovery from the devastations of Sennacherib.32 It must have given many Judeans a return to some sort of prosperity and hope for the future. He is named as an apparently loyal subject paying the required tribute to both Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal (though it has been pointed out that Manasseh’s tribute was smaller than that of his neighbours).33 He also supplied military assistance for Ashurbanipal’s attack on Egypt. No evidence for imposed Assyrian cults has been forthcoming, and those described in the Bible seem to be indigenous ones. This is unlikely to be the last word on the subject, but although Manasseh seems to have been a loyal vassal, the cults in existence under his rule were more likely to be old indigenous ones rather than those imposed from the outside. This does not, though, rule out foreign influence, such as from Assyro-Aramaic astral cults. What seems clear is that there were major changes taking place under Manasseh, though probably not under his control or even according to his desire. It has also been proposed by E. A. Knauf that Manasseh built some prestige projects, including the Siloam tunnel and a palace at Ramat Raḥel.34 What may well have happened is that the Deuteronomic or ‘YHWH-alone’ movement(s) were unhappy with the state of worship in Judah at this time and began to plan to bring about religious reform. Hezekiah’s measures, designed to make Judah independent, also tended toward a more centralized state, which could well include how the Temple and other religious institutions operated. 29

FRIED, “High Places”. HERZOG, “Perspectives”, 179. 31 I do not deny that the story might reflect some sort of events during Hezekiah’s reign. For a continuation of the debate, see GRABBE, “Like a Bird”, esp. 308–323. 32 FINKELSTEIN, “Archaeology”; FINKELSTEIN / SILBERMAN, Bible, 264–274. 33 FINKELSTEIN / SILBERMAN, Bible, 265. 34 On the Siloam tunnel, see KNAUF, “Hezekiah”; for Ramat Raḥel, see idem, “Glorious”, 170. 30

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There would have been a good impetus under Manasseh to write down the Deuteronomic tradition in a book for future reference or even ultimate promulgation. We can infer this from events under Josiah which suggest considerable Deuteronomic activity well before Josiah’s reform. We should also consider the suggestions of E. A. Knauf that measures toward cult centralization, allegedly taken by Hezekiah, actually belong to the reign of Manasseh (see his revised archaeological timetable just before the following quotation): Arad IX was not as the available reports go, violently destroyed, but was restructured to make for what looks like a suq, a commercial district. In the course of this reconstruction, which falls into the early years of Manasseh, the temple was reverently buried. As far as the archaeological data go, there is some evidence for the abandonment of some local / rural sanctuaries only for the time of Manasseh…. That there was some, not complete, cultic centralization under Manasseh agrees well with his politics, or the socio-economic development of his day.35

3.3 Josiah We skip to Josiah, who is known only from the biblical text. Neither the surviving Babylonian nor Egyptian records contain any reference to him. We are left with archaeology and the biblical text with which to make sense of his reign, though the Egyptian material and the Babylonian chronicles provide useful background and contextual information. Many past reconstructions have depended on the picture in 2 Chronicles, even in those aspects which differ at significant points from those in 2 Kings. It was once conventional to accept Josiah’s reform at face value, but the question is currently much debated.36 We have no direct evidence outside the biblical text, which makes us at least ask whether it is an invention of the Deuteronomist. The central passage is 2 Kgs 22–23. That this passage has been the subject of Deuteronomistic editing is widely accepted, leaving the question of how much might be Deuteronomistic invention. However, Christof Hardmeier and Christoph Uehlinger argue that at the heart of 2 Kgs 22–23 is a simple list of reform measures affecting mainly Jerusalem (and perhaps Bethel, but see below), to which the Deuteronomistic editors have added an extensive superstructure that makes the reform much more extensive in scope and geography than the original list.37 Uehlinger argues that the original list – but not the much-expanded present text – is supported by the archaeology and iconography. It should be noted, however, that the inclusion of Bethel among the cult places destroyed (according to 2 Kgs 23:15) seems unlikely.38 35

KNAUF, “Glorious”, 184–186. ALBERTZ, History, 198–201; idem, “Why”; LOHFINK, “Bewegung”; DAVIES, “Josiah”; KNAUF, “Glorious”. 37 HARDMEIER, “King Josiah”; UEHLINGER, “Kultreform”; idem, “Cult Reform”. 38 KNAUF, “Glorious”, 184 n. 74; idem, “Bethel”, 306–309. 36

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One major difference between the accounts in 2 Kings and 2 Chronicles involves the Passover that Josiah is alleged not only to have celebrated, but also to have attempted to impose upon the former northern kingdom. Whereas 2 Kgs 22:21–23 mentions Josiahʼs Passover briefly, 2 Chronicles 35:1–19 goes into great detail about how it was celebrated, including invitations – which many accepted – presented to members of the old Kingdom of Samaria. Needless to say, this looks suspiciously like an invention of the Chronicler. One theory that has held considerable sway for a number of decades is that Josiah was attempting to create a “greater Israel”, perhaps on the model of the Davidic kingdom. There are many obvious parallels between Josiah and David, though one could put these down to literary creation rather than actual activity of the ruler. The “righteousness” of both kings is the most obvious point of contact, but the conquest of territory is another that many scholars have managed to glean from the biblical material: a recovery of former glory, as well as the attempt to return to a “greater Israel”. Nadav Na’aman has argued, however, that there was no political vacuum giving Josiah room to try to found a new Davidic “empire”.39 Rather, the declining Assyrian power in the west was matched by the growing power of Egypt; indeed, there may have been an orderly transfer of territorial control by mutual agreement.40 Miller and Hayes have already argued that Josiah was an Egyptian vassal during his entire reign.41 Na’aman has gone on to create a picture of Judah as a vassal state throughout Josiah’s reign, first under the Assyrians and then under the Egyptians. This would have given only very limited scope for expansion of territory. There is some evidence of the border shifting as far north as Bethel. However, expansion further north into Galilee or west into the area of Philistia is not justified either by archaeology or the text. 3.4 Jehoiakim Jehoiakim is known only from the biblical text, yet his reign illustrates the external politics of the ancient Near East at this time and fits in well with it. Judah was clearly an Egyptian vassal, since it was the Egyptians who put Jehoiakim on the throne. But in Jehoiakim’s fourth year Nebuchadnezzar gained control of the region after the battle of Carchemish, and Judah became the vassal of the Babylonians. He then rebelled after three years. Why? The answer is that in 601 BCE Nebuchadnezzar fought a costly battle with Necho II, which inflicted considerable damage on both armies; indeed, it took the Babylonians several years to recover, as indicated by Babylonian Chronicle 5. It was after this battle that Jehoiakim rebelled. It was not until two years later that Nebuchadnezzar retaliated by fostering raids against Judah, and it was not until late in 598 that he 39

NA’AMAN, “Kingdom” (1991), 33–41; “Kingdom” (2005), 210–217. NA’AMAN, “Kingdom” (1991), 40. 41 MILLER / HAYES, History, 383–390. 40

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sent an army against Jerusalem. 2 Chronicles 36:6 states that Nebuchadnezzar besieged Jerusalem and took Jehoiakim as a captive to Babylon, while Jer 22:18–19 predicts that he would have the “burial of an ass” (i.e., his carcass would be dragged outside Jerusalem and left exposed and unburied). Neither appears to be what happened; from 2 Kgs 24 it looks as if Jehoiakim died a natural death only a couple of months or so before Nebuchadnezzar laid siege to Jerusalem, and it was his son who paid the price for his rebellion. As for Dan 1:1–2, it is completely confused, most likely based on a misreading of the narrative in 2 Kings and 2 Chronicles.42 3.5 Jehoiachin Although he reigned only very briefly, Jehoiachin is well attested. In the biblical writings his name is mentioned not only in 2 Kings and 2 Chronicles but also elsewhere.43 Jehoiachin is known (though not by name) from the Babylonian Chronicles, which tell of Nebuchadnezzar’s taking of Jerusalem and his carrying of the Judean king into captivity. Jehoiachin’s name has also been preserved in the Jehoiachin tablets from Babylon.44 Thus, this young, ephemeral ruler is better known from extra-biblical sources than the famous Josiah. 3.6 Zedekiah The last king of Judah is known from the Babylonian Chronicles as the king placed on the throne by Nebuchadnezzar after his conquest of Jerusalem in early 597 BCE. Zedekiah’s name is known only from the biblical text, however. We have no Mesopotamian historical sources after 594 when the Babylonian Chronicles come to an end. Yet the inscription of Psammetichus II (595–589 BCE), describing a tour of Palestine, fits a situation in which the king of Judah was constantly looking for ways to free himself from the overlordship of Nebuchadnezzar.45 The rebellion and final siege and capture of Jerusalem are, unfortunately, not known from any Mesopotamian source. The Egyptians were supposed to have assisted Zedekiah temporarily by sending an army, which caused the Babylonians to lift their siege, but the Egyptians withdrew, and the Babylonian siege was resumed (Jer 37:4–11). We know nothing of this from either Babylonian or Egyptian sources. The pharaoh at the time was Apries (589–570 BCE, called Hofrah in the biblical text [Jer 44:30]), yet our knowledge of Pharaoh Apries from native Egyptian sources is deficient. However, we have some information from Greek sources that has generally been accepted by Egyptologists (Herodotus 2.161–69; 42

GRABBE, “Fundamentalism”, 138–140. See also Jeremiah (22:24, 28; 27:20; 28:4; 29:2; 37:1; 52:31), Ezekiel (1:2), and Esther (2:6). 44 WEIDNER, “Jojachin”. 45 Text quoted in GRABBE, Ancient Israel, 190–191. 43

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Diodorus Siculus 1.68.1–6). According to these, Apries brought Phoenicia into submission. Jeremiah 27:3 indicates that Tyre and Sidon supported Zedekiah’s rebellion. Apries’ actions seem to fit into this context. In view of the detailed information confirmed for 2 Kings in the period before this, the reasonableness (for the most part) of the picture in 2 Kings, and the general background situation in the ancient Near East, it does not take much of a leap of faith to accept the general picture and the approximate date for the destruction of Jerusalem.

4. The Exilic and Early Persian Period Once Jerusalem had fallen, the lives of most Judahites changed. A significant portion of the upper stratum of society had been deported to Babylonia. The population in Judah itself fell drastically because of military action, famine and disease. For most individuals the first concern was to survive and find a way of living, whether in the old country or the new. We know something about the lives that these people lived in Babylonia from recently published tablets that talk about the “city of Judah” in the Babylonian region and also about some individual Jews.46 It is clear that literary activity was not the first thing on the minds of most. Yet over a period of time, a few priests and scribes seem to have made it their mission to preserve and edit some of the national and religious traditions, whether oral or written. That is, the trauma of the fall of Jerusalem and the exile was the catalyst for compiling various written traditions and putting many oral traditions into writing. This conclusion is an extrapolation from a number of streams of evidence, but it is not just guesswork. First, there is the Deuteronomistic History (however you characterize that work), which many would regard as having been compiled in large part during the exilic period.47 With regard to the Pentateuch, however, some parts of Genesis and Exodus probably belong to the exile or early Persian period: the creation account of Gen 1 looks like a response to the Enuma elish, in which the mythical active forces have become passive objects in YHWH’s hand and creation has become a “job of work”.48 The flood story seems to show considerable borrowing from Mesopotamian tradition.49 The Joseph story appears to have an Egyptian background from Saite and Persian times, and I have recently argued that the exodus story likewise has its background in the Egypt of the seventh to fifth centuries BCE.50 Finally, the P document seems to have its origin in the Babylonian and early Persian period (see the next section). 46

For a discussion of these tablets, see PEARCE, “New Evidence”; eadem, “Identifying”. For different views on how the DH was compiled, see the summary in RÖMER / DE PURY, “Deuteronomistic”. 48 This is the phrase used by DAY, God’s Conflict, 49. 49 FINKEL, Ark. 50 For the Joseph story, see REDFORD, Study; for the exodus account see GRABBE, “Exodus”. 47

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5. The P Document I have never accepted the Documentary Hypothesis. In my early days as a student, it suited my Texas Bible Belt background to reject it, of course always giving ostensibly “scientific reasons” for doing so. However, even after I had escaped from fundamentalism, I still never found the Graf-Wellhausen thesis convincing. I think part of it was the concept of grey-bearded sages hunched over an array of documents from which they created a new text by cutting and pasting – a sentence here, a phrase there, even individual words taken from one document and inserted into another. As I learned more about biblical scholarship, the idea of a document-based process became even more problematic. I know the idea is not without precedent, for example, Tatian’s Diatessaron, but the Pentateuch is centuries earlier than the gospels. 5.1 Recent Scholarly Discussion In the classic form of the documentary hypothesis, the post-exilic dating of P has been a cornerstone, and it is here that one of the main objections to the consensus has emerged. The Hebrew University scholar Yehezekel Kaufmann (1889–1963) went against the scholarly trend by dating P back well into the preexilic period, even earlier than the Deuteronomic tradition. The result has been a certain following, often referred to as the “Kaufmann school”. The late Menahem Haran argued a situation similar to that postulated by Kaufmann. In his study Temples and Temple-Service in Ancient Israel, Haran examined the traditions about the wilderness tabernacle during Israel’s supposed forty years’ wandering before entering the Promised Land. He attempted to show how many of these traditions actually related to the period of the monarchy, sometimes to the early monarchy and even earlier. Thus, in his opinion, P was an early product of the priesthood, but because it was produced and preserved by the priests primarily for their own use, it is not clearly attested until after the reform of Josiah about 620 BCE (traditionally associated with the Deuteronomic tradition). According to Haran, P was much older and was even the basis of the unsuccessful cultic reform of Hezekiah about 715 BCE, almost a century before Josiah. Likewise, the monumental three-volume commentary on Leviticus by Jacob Milgrom (1991–2001) argued that the core of the P source arose at an early time in Israel’s history, shortly before the founding of the monarchy.51 Although Milgrom was developing the thesis already advanced by Haran, the detail with which it is argued is his own contribution. Milgrom thought that certain portions of Leviticus were later editings, reflecting developments in the history of the cult. Nevertheless, much of the presupposed cult grew up primarily in association with the temple cult at Shiloh, which preceded the kingship of David and the 51 Although I have not read every word of its nearly 3,000 pages, I have read the bulk of them and reviewed the final volume for the journal Biblica (GRABBE, review).

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founding of the temple at Jerusalem. Milgrom pointed especially to three arguments which indicated a shrine with only a small territory and governed by a single priestly family: (1) the purification rite for the one with a discharge (zav) required a journey which could be completed in one day; (2) the thanksgiving offering was originally eaten by the offerer on the sanctuary grounds; (3) the priestly portions originally went to the presiding priest, whereas certain added statements change that to the priests as a whole. This of course presupposes later edits that attempted to update the material. In order to sort out P, two basic questions have to be answered. The first is whether P was a document or simply a redactional layer.52 According to the classical Graf-Wellhausen thesis, P was an independent narrative document parallel to the JE strand(s). But even Wellhausen himself thought that much of the cultic material of Leviticus was not a part of the original P source. Others have argued that P was mainly a redactional layer, not least Frank Cross. It seems to me that the book of Leviticus is a document, though P elsewhere might be a redactional layer. Yet it does not seem to make a great deal of difference as far as the origin of the Pentateuch is concerned. A further complication to the discussion is the question of the Holiness Code (H) which has usually been seen as separate from P and earlier. Several scholars have doubted the existence of H as a separate document.53 I. Knohl, though accepting the existence of H, came to the conclusion that it was later than Lev 1–16, arguing that there were two priestly schools, one of which produced the earlier P document and the other of which not only wrote H (the later document) but also did the final editing of the Pentateuch.54 The view that H is later than P has come to dominate traditio-historical opinion.55 The second question is when P is to be dated. 5.2 Linguistic Dating and P Contrary to the Graf-Wellhausen thesis, members of the “Kaufman school” have argued that P can be dated linguistically to preexilic times. Linguistic dating is controversial, and has been largely bypassed in current scholarship; however, a small group has engaged in a fierce debate about it over the past couple of decades or so. Two questions have tended to dominate the debate: (1) can texts be dated linguistically? And (2), is P to be dated early or is it merely another example of Late Biblical Hebrew? With regard to the first issue, a handful of scholars, mostly clustered around and heavily influenced by Ian Young, have taken the view that Standard Biblical Hebrew and Late Biblical Hebrew are not chronological phases of the language 52

For a discussion, see NICHOLSON, Pentateuch, 196–221. E.g. GERSTENBERGER, Leviticus, 18–19. 54 KNOHL, “Priestly”; idem, Sanctuary. MILGROM, Leviticus 1–16, 26–35, followed Knohl in arguing that H is later than P, though his thesis differs in detail from Knohl’s. 55 SHECTMAN / BADEN, Strata, xi. 53

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but simply stylistic choices (especially Ian Young, Martin Ehrensvärd, Robert Rezetko, Robyn C. Vern and Philip R. Davies).56 These individuals have raised some important questions, but theirs is admittedly a minority opinion. They have been criticised by a number of others, mainly from within the Hebrew philological tradition.57 However, at least a couple of significant critiques have come from the perspective of theoretical linguistics.58 One is the important methodological study of A. D. Forbes, even if it is heavy on unexplained methodology and unclarified technical jargon. His basic point is that Young’s, Rezetko’s and Ehrensvärd’s attempt59 to establish their method based on 500-word excerpts is inadequate from a statistical point of view. Another is the review of N. Pat-El and A. Wilson-Wright that also lays down some methodological considerations for linguistic dating, especially of Archaic Biblical Poetry. Thus, although the sceptics raise some points and issues that need to be answered by their critics, this does not negate the basic principle that we can discern chronological phases in Hebrew that are valid indicators of relative and even absolute dates. The problem is to establish proper methodology for demonstrating the age of texts (as Forbes and Pat-El and Wilson-Wright argue). But if texts can ultimately be characterized chronologically, where should P be put? One of the main scholars who has written extensively on the dating question is A. Hurvitz. In a series of articles and a monograph, he has concentrated on linguistic criteria.60 He argues that certain vocabulary used in P ceased to be used by the postexilic period. Also, when the language of Ezekiel (traditionally dated to the exilic period) is compared with that of P, the language of the Priestly Source is clearly earlier. Ezekiel and other writings of the exile and postexilic period have characteristics of the later stratum of the language known as Late Biblical Hebrew. More importantly, even though there are many ancient forms in P, in Hurvitz’s opinion there are no exclusively late ones. The linguistic argument for an early dating of P is controversial. For example, one view is that the language of P is archaizing, meaning that the writer consciously attempted to imitate an older form of the language.61 In such cases, though, there are almost always some later forms reflecting the author’s own time. Hurvitz has attempted to deal with this question, as has Milgrom.62 Milgrom depended heavily on Hurvitz but added further examples which he claimed show that the vocabulary of P was early, consisting in some cases of terms which dropped out of use long before the exile. On the other hand, he maintained that none of the key terms was 56 See YOUNG, Diversity; EHRENSVÄRD, “Why”; YOUNG et al., Linguistic Dating, vol. 1 and vol. 2; VERN, Dating; DAVIES, “Biblical Hebrew”. 57 See especially the writings of HURVITZ, “Biblical Texts”; idem, “Recent Debate”; ZEVIT, “Historical Linguistics”; ESKHULT, “Traces”; JOOSTEN, “Distinction”. 58 See FORBES, “Diachrony”; PAT-EL / WILSON-WRIGHT, “Features”. 59 YOUNG et al., Linguistic Dating, vol. 1 and vol. 2. 60 E.g., HURVITZ, Linguistic Study; idem, “Biblical Texts”; idem, “Recent Debate”. 61 CROSS, Canaanite Myth, 322–323. 62 HURVITZ, Linguistic Study; MILGROM, Leviticus 1–16, 458–459.

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demonstrably postexilic. Therefore, P was not archaizing but was genuinely old (though he concedes that there are some postexilic additions). The problem has been that the arguments of the “Kaufmann school” have gone relatively unchallenged. The lone article of Joseph Blenkinsopp was pounced on by Hurvitz and his supporters.63 The arguments for an early P need proper linguistic examination. There is also another problem, which is whether P can be taken as a linguistic unity. For example, Rendtorff (who queried the existence of the P source on other grounds) thought the language of Leviticus is a special priestly jargon which cannot be dated to one specific period.64 Even Polzin, whose work is still the main study on the subject, thinks P has some of the linguistic characteristics of Late Biblical Hebrew.65 This has been rejected by members of the “Kaufmann school”, but it is an issue that needs further debate. In concluding this all too brief discussion, I would like to make two points. The first is that the language of the legal sections of P is a particular priestly legal language, probably passed down over several centuries. We can take the analogy of legal English (especially when we consider the influence of legal French on legal English): The professional language of the present day lawyer in the English speaking countries can hardly be called English. There are English words in it, to be sure, but at its core it is medieval French of a particular type, one that was used by a never very numerous class of persons – the technical language of the French speaking lawyers in the England of Edward I and later.66

I am not suggesting that the language of P was borrowed from a language other than Hebrew (though influence from neighbouring languages may occur on occasion), but it represents a legal tradition which often displays archaic usage and also its own developments in syntax and semantics. Thus, the dating of the language of legal P sections of text may be difficult because we do not possess parallel texts with which to compare it. As we shall see below, this P tradition was edited during the Persian period, but much of the language could have been much older than the Persian period. A second point is that the dividing line or transitional period between Standard Biblical Hebrew and Late Biblical Hebrew was probably not the exilic period, as is often assumed. There is now evidence that it is probably to be placed somewhat later, say in the mid-Persian period. E. A. Knauf notes the following: A chronological reevaluation of the detailed statistics provided by Polak leads to ca. 400, rather than the “Exile”, as being the separator between BH [Biblical Hebrew] and LBH [Late Biblical Hebrew] …. Again, 400 becomes a more likely date for the BH / LBH divide than 586. Diachronically, one can be sure that text written in LBH does not antedate the fifth century; on the other hand, one cannot be sure that text in BH predates it.67 63

BLENKINSOPP, “Assessment”. RENDTORFF, “Two Kinds”. 65 POLZIN, Biblical Hebrew, 85–122. 66 WOODBINE, “Language”, 395. 67 KNAUF, “Bethel”, 309–318 (= idem, Data, 292–299). 64

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Knauf puts the dividing line between SBH and LBH rather later than the exile. Whether it was as late as 400, we can debate, but it might be a further explanation of why the language of P does not seem so late.68 One thing we can agree on is that linguistic dating is a difficult matter that needs a lot more study and debate. But I for one am not yet ready to concede that P is linguistically early in its final form. 5.3 P and the Persian Context Having expressed my scepticism toward the documentary hypothesis, it is also true that I came to accept the existence of a P document. P may indeed be in part an editorial layer. But it seems to me that there was a document as well, comprising the last chapters of Exodus and Leviticus, and possibly some of Numbers. We now come to the most interesting, but also probably the most controversial, part of the tale: when and why was P promulgated? In spite of arguments by the “Kaufmann school”, we are a long way from seeing the traditional late dating of P abandoned.69 My study assumes that the most likely date for the composition of P was the Persian period, though it incorporates older traditional material. Whether P is a Persian-period composition or whether it only became widely known in the Persian period, the effect on religion is much the same. When a need was finally felt to give written instructions about the sacrificial system, this was probably in the early postexilic period. Once the cult of the Jerusalem temple commenced again, the question of a written book of the Law seems to have arisen. But by this time a definite break in the cult and its practice had taken place, and the instructions were not for other priests but for the lay worshippers. The priests themselves did not need a book. Their temple duties were learned by priests new to the job from their superiors. In fact, it is not certain that a “handbook” solely aimed at priests was ever written. No such document has survived, nor are there hints of it in any of the literature. On the other hand, the Judean coming to the newly rebuilt Temple needed to be taught what was happening, how to act and essential details about the religious tradition. Books such as Leviticus were written for the ordinary worshipping Israelite, not the priest. It seems that, probably during the early Persian period, the details of what we know as the “priestly document”, or P, were circulated in writing. The P document summarizes a good number of the traditional cult practices. The cult is likely to have changed only slowly over time, and even a preexilic cultic description was probably still current in early postexilic times. Many of 68 One might assume that Knauf is making the same point as the “Young school”, but this is not the case. He does not argue that SBH and LBH existed simultaneously and were simply stylistic choices; rather he notes that a later writer might choose to write in SBH for religious or other reasons (though whether he could do so completely free of later forms would be a matter of competence), but an earlier writer would not be using LBH. Some features of LBH might also occur in SBH, but they would differ in proportion of use, while other features would have developed only at a later time. 69 Cf. RENDTORFF, “Two Kinds”; BLENKINSOPP, “Assessment”.

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the other laws were traditional in Judaic society; the food taboos (Lev 11), for example, had probably been observed for centuries.70 Nevertheless, P in general, and Leviticus in particular, was not a “manual” for the temple service.71 Apart from its lack of completeness (much that the priests would need to know is omitted), it is probably to some extent stylized. Part of the reason is that it is set in a hypothetical tabernacle shrine made by Moses in the wilderness. Therefore, the cult in a fixed temple, with a king and something like a national structure, would have had some differences. For example, there is no place for the king or the cult prophets in the P legislation.72 There are a number of indications that P belongs to the Persian period, regardless of whether some or even quite a bit of its content is preexilic. These can be briefly summarized as follows: 1. Much of the legislation fits a small, self-contained community such as one might find in Persian Yehud. The idea that this could relate to Israel and the Shiloh shrine, as hypothesized by Haran and Milgrom, might have made sense to an earlier generation of scholars.73 In the light of recent studies on the history of Israel, however, this can no longer be entertained.74 In any event, a good case can be made for P fitting quite well into the context of Persian Yehud.75 One example can be given. Leviticus 17:3–7 is the law regarding slaughter, requiring that domestic animals be killed at the altar. How could this be carried out, from a practical point of view, if no butchering or eating of meat could be done apart from the shrine? The answer is that Lev 17 must either be an idealized system divorced from reality or had in mind a society small enough in numbers and territory to allow a trip to the altar and back within a day or so. The postexilic community was of just such a size, and the majority of scholars apply this to the postexilic community.76 2. A further consideration is the amount of time between the composition of the Pentateuch in the Persian period and the pre-state period relating to Shiloh. Are we to believe that in this half millennium or more the priests made no adjustment to their regulations to take account of the situation under kingly rule, the existence of a state and service at the state temple? That they continued to build their regulations around a small pre-state entity? Especially in the latter part of the monarchy, things had changed considerably. Judah was part of the international scene, a vassal of the larger empires, with a substantial territory 70

Cf. HOUSTON, Purity, 123. GRABBE, “Priests in Leviticus”. 72 Cf. GRABBE, Priests, 10–40, 112–113. 73 See HARAN, Temples; MILGROM, Leviticus, vols 1–3. 74 For an overview, see GRABBE, Ancient Israel. 75 See especially GERSTENBERGER, Leviticus. 76 Cf. GERSTENBERGER, Leviticus, 216–217. 71

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and administration, and an international economy. We cannot believe that the cultic laws still envisaged the temple of Shiloh, without significant modifications. 3. The observance of the Day of Atonement. Much of the material in Leviticus, at least as it relates to actual religious practice, has a long history in the societies of Israel and Judah, and in the Jerusalem temple. The sabbath77 and the Passover78 were two of the traditional festivals known from the Elephantine documents. Others are not mentioned, though the Festival of Tabernacles or Booths (Sukkot) has a prominent place in the books of Ezra and Nehemiah and other late biblical books (Ezra 3:4; Neh 8:14–18; Zech 14:16–19; cf. 2 Chr 8:13). What is surprising, however, is the absence of the Day of Atonement in either Elephantine or any other source relating to the late fifth century BCE. It seems clear that the Day of Atonement had a long history of celebration, going well back to preexilic times. Leviticus 16 seems to describe an old ritual, though the formulation in Lev 23:26–32 may be much later. What is clear in the biblical literature is that the Day of Atonement was not envisaged as a standard observance in the first part of the Persian period down to the time of Nehemiah. This is shown by Neh 8–9 which mentions no such holy day among the events of the seventh month. In Neh 8:1–9 the people weep at what they hear from the law, at the beginning of the seventh month. The Day of Atonement would have been a perfect occasion to do this, yet they keep the Festival of Booths (Sukkot) on the 15th to 22nd of the month, before assembling on a day of fasting and repentance on the 24th day of the month. The Day of Atonement has been completely bypassed – they seem not to know of it. It is true that Zech 7:5 mentions a fast of the fifth month and a fast of the seventh month, while Zech 8:19 speaks of fasts of the fourth, fifth, seventh and tenth months. The “fast of the seventh month” could be the Day of Atonement, but the context suggests a fast associated with the destruction of the temple. How do we explain this? To me the most logical explanation is that the Day of Atonement had a regular ceremony in the temple, involving the high priest and the scapegoat ritual. However, it was not until later that it became a regular fast day and day of repentance among the people of the community. This may well have happened once the Torah was promulgated, which was likely to have been in the late Persian period, after 400 BCE. 4. Several of the regulations in P in the present form of the Pentateuch are utopian, which is possible in an administrative entity in which the priests provided leadership and perhaps thought they could develop with time. Two examples can be given here. First, the jubilee year. The sabbatical year (šĕmiṭṭāh) and the jubilee year are described in Lev 25. We have the practical 77 78

AD D7.10:5; D7.12:9; D7.16:2; D7.28:4; D7.35:7; D7.48:5. AD A4.1; D.7.6:9–10; D7.24:5.

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and the utopian laid out side by side. Leviticus 25:1–7, 18–22 describes the sabbatical year, fairly briefly and practically. On the other hand, much of the chapter (25:8–17, 23–55) is devoted to the jubilee year or year of release, with some rather elaborate procedures to be followed. We know that the sabbatical year was kept at an early time, probably at least in the Persian period, though our extra-biblical evidence begins about the time of the Maccabean revolt.79 The second example is the tithe of livestock (Lev 27:32–33). Although the animal tithe is mentioned only in passing, in a context about substitution of one animal for another, it strongly implies that animals were tithed. Yet this is the only mention of a tithe of animals, except for 2 Chr 31:6. All sorts of questions come to mind. First, a contribution of animals was already made through the separating out of the first born. Since a cow would have approximately ten calves in a breeding life, a firstling would be about ten percent. Sheep would have been different, since sheep often have twins. But the point is that a tithe of cattle would be putting a huge burden on the cattle raiser. If the whole herd was run by and every ten animal taken out, the herd would be decimated – literally – every year, and would gradually disappear. If it was only the new crop of calves (and this is far from stated), it would make more sense, but this would be in addition to the gift of firstlings – again, a major burden on the cattle raiser. This is why most references to tithes only mention crops where the system was fairer (Num 18:21–32; Neh 10:37–40; 12:44–47). Later Jewish tradition made the animal tithe a form of second tithe, i.e., the animal was consumed by the cattle raiser and his family at the annual festivals (m. Bekh. 9.7–9), even though no such tithe of animals is mentioned in the law of second tithe, only firstlings (Deut 14:22–26). But we have no examples suggesting that this tithe was actually carried out at any time in Jewish history. It seems to have been only theoretical – utopian.

6. Summary and Conclusions My main concern has been the background to any developments in the composition of the Pentateuch through the centuries from the late eighth century to the fourth century BCE. Some aspects of my suggestions about the growth of the written Torah do not diverge greatly from the conventional picture drawn on the basis of the documentary hypothesis, but other aspects are framed rather differently. Most important, they take account of developments in understanding the history of ancient Israel that draw a picture rather different from that found before the 1970s, when major changes started to affect our interpretation. We cannot say when the earliest contributions to the Pentateuch were first written down, but it is unlikely to have been earlier than the eighth century. There 79

GRABBE, “Maccabean”.

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might have been a scribal (meaning probably a priestly) interest in recording early Israelite traditions that eventually made their way into the Pentateuch, especially those relating to the book of Genesis. Primordial matters, cosmogony, the origins of humans and of civilization are issues that often engage the first composers of religious literature; the same applies to national and ethnic origins. All these topics are found in Genesis and Exodus and might have attracted the attention of scribes with leisure in the eighth or seventh centuries. Yet it also seems clear that some of the material in Genesis and the first part of Exodus stems from the Neo-Babylonian and Persian periods. On balance I think we can rule out a cult reform under Hezekiah. He generated a good deal of national activity during his reign, but it seems to have been mostly related to gaining independence from Assyrian rule and exercising regional hegemony. On the other hand, the writing down of the Deuteronomic tradition may have begun under his rule, but it also may have begun – or at least continued – under Manasseh. Manasseh’s rule does not seem to have shown major religious innovations or reactions. It seems unlikely that he reversed religious measures taken by Hezekiah or established new cults or deities. The argument that vassals had to establish an Assyrian cult does not appear to stand up to investigation. Manasseh was firmly under Assyrian control and evidently a model vassal, but the religious measures allegedly taken by him (e.g., 2 Kgs 21:2–7) look Canaanite / Israelite, not Assyrian. Yet if a “YHWH-alone” and / or a Deuteronomistic movement was underway during his reign, it / they might have reacted to the continued cult practices under Manasseh’s reign. Contrary to the Hezekiah story, I believe there is evidence for a cult reform under Josiah, even though there is no direct information on Josiah apart from the biblical text. The reason is that as we move through the seventh century, the biblical text seems to show a closer correspondence to historical reality. Toward the end of the Kingdom of Judah there are times when we know almost year by year what is happening in history from the biblical text. This does not mean that I accept every detail (e.g., that Josiah died in a military engagement with Necho), but the broad outlines look believable. For that reason, I am happy to give some credence to the story that a cult reform was instigated by the finding of a scroll in the Temple, though I am bound to suspect that it was conveniently planted there by some priests to be found by others. But the centuries-old view that this book looks like a version of Deuteronomy seems to have substance. The period following the fall of Jerusalem was traumatic for all, whether taken captive to Babylonia or left in the province of Judah. I would accept what many readers believe – that the Deuteronomistic History was put in shape during this time, whether in Babylonia or Palestine. Some parts of Genesis and Exodus probably belong to the exile or early Persian period: the creation account of Gen 1 looks like a response to the Enuma Elish, the flood story a borrowing in part from Mesopotamia, and the Joseph story from Saite and Persian times. I have recently argued that the exodus story has its background in the Egypt of the seventh to fifth centuries BCE.

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It is when we get to the Persian period that we find the most definite signs of literary activity. I accept that there was probably a P document, encompassing Leviticus, probably the last chapters of Exodus, and perhaps the first chapters of Numbers: in other words, the legal content of P. If there was P material elsewhere, it might well have been redactional. I would include H as a component of P, though as a later phase of it. The linguistic dating of P is still a controversial issue and likely to remain so. At the present, I see nothing wrong with assuming that a good portion of the legal content of P was preexilic, since the regulations relating to the cult and general public conduct were not likely to have changed much over the centuries. But there are some good indications that a P-document was finalized in, and addressed to, a community during the Persian period. Thus, even if some or perhaps much of the P material is early, it was given its shape in the Persian period. Then, finally, in the later part of the Persian period – after 400 BCE – the Pentateuch, in much the form that we know it, was promulgated. I take the Ezra legend as reflecting in outline the essential events: a document, most probably compiled in Babylon, was brought to Judah, accepted by the high priest and the leaders of the province, and became the basis for official teaching, alongside already existing religious literature such as (probably) the Deuteronomistic History. How quickly it was accepted is a matter of debate, but by the Ptolemaic period it had been translated into Greek as an authoritative religious document, and in the early Seleucid period it was part of the Jewish writings widely accepted as authoritative by the community, as indicated by Ben Sira.

Literature ALBERTZ, R., A History of Israelite Religion in the Old Testament Period, vol. 1, From the Beginnings to the End of the Monarchy; vol. 2, From the Exile to the Maccabees, London 1994. —, “Why a Reform Like Josiah’s Must Have Happened”, in: L. L. Grabbe (ed.), Good Kings and Bad Kings (JSOT.S 393 = ESHM 5), London 2005, 27–46. BLENKINSOPP, J., “An Assessment of the Alleged Pre-Exilic Date of the Priestly Material in the Pentateuch”, ZAW 108 (1996) 495–578. BOYCE, M., A History of Zoroastrianism, vol. 1, The Early Period (HdO I.8.1), Leiden 1975. COGAN, M., Imperialism and Religion: Assyria, Judah and Israel in the Eighth and Seventh Centuries B.C.E. (SBLMS 19), Missoula, MO 1974. —, “Judah under Assyrian Hegemony: A Re-examination of Imperialism and Religion”, JBL 112 (1993) 403–414. CROSS, F. M., Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic, Cambridge 1973. DAVIES, P. R., “Biblical Hebrew and the History of Ancient Judah: Typology, Chronology and Common Sense”, in: I. Young (ed.), Biblical Hebrew: Studies in Chronology and Typology (JSOT.S 369), London 2003, 150–163. —, “Josiah and the Law Book”, in: Grabbe (ed.), Good Kings and Bad Kings, 65–77. DAY, J., God’s Conflict with the Dragon and the Sea, Cambridge 1985.

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EHRENSVÄRD, M., “Why Biblical Texts Cannot Be Dated Linguistically”, HS 47 (2006) 177–189. ESKHULT, M., “Traces of Linguistic Development in Biblical Hebrew”, HS 46 (2005) 353–370. FASSBERG, S. E. / HURVITZ, A. (eds.), Biblical Hebrew in Its Northwest Semitic Setting: Typological and Historical Perspectives (Publications of the Institute for Advanced Studies 1), Jerusalem / Winona Lake, IN 2006. FINKEL, I., The Ark before Noah: Decoding the Story of the Flood, London 2014. FINKELSTEIN, I., “The Archaeology of the Days of Manasseh”, in: M. D. Coogan et al. (eds.), Scripture and Other Artifacts: Essays on the Bible and Archaeology in Honor of Philip J. King, Louisville, KY 1994, 169–187. —, “Migration of Israelites into Judah after 720 BCE: An Answer and an Update”, ZAW 27 (2015) 188–206. FINKELSTEIN, I. / RÖMER, T., “Comments on the Historical Background of the Jacob Narrative in Genesis”, ZAW 126 (2014) 317–338. FINKELSTEIN, I. / SILBERMAN, N. A., The Bible Unearthed: Archaeology’s New Vision of Ancient Israel and the Origin of the Sacred Texts, New York 2001. FORBES, A. D., “The Diachrony Debate: Perspectives from Pattern Recognition and MetaAnalysis”, HS 53 (2012) 7–42. FRIED, L. S., “The High Places (BĀMÔT) and the Reforms of Hezekiah and Josiah: An Archaeological Investigation”, JAOS 122 (2002) 437–465. GERSTENBERGER, E. S., Leviticus: A Commentary (OTL), Louisville, KY1996; ET of Das dritte Buch Mose: Leviticus (ATD 6), Göttingen 1993. GRABBE, L. L., “Fundamentalism and Scholarship: The Case of Daniel”, in: B. P. Thompson (ed.), Scripture: Method and Meaning: Essays Presented to Anthony Tyrrell Hanson for his Seventieth Birthday, Hull 1987, 133–152. —, “Maccabean Chronology: 167–164 or 168–165 BCE?” JBL 110 (1991) 59–74. —, Priests, Prophets, Diviners, Sages: A Socio-historical Study of Religious Specialists in Ancient Israel, Valley Forge, PA 1995. —, review of J. Milgrom, Leviticus 23–27, Biblica 84 (2003) 118–120. — (ed.), “Like a Bird in a Cage”: The Invasion of Sennacherib in 701 BCE (JSOT.S 363 = European Seminar in Historical Methodology 4), Sheffield 2003. —, “The Priests in Leviticus – Is the Medium the Message?”, in: R. Rendtorff / R. A. Kugler (eds.), The Book of Leviticus: Composition and Reception (VT.S 93), Leiden 2003, 207–224. —, A History of the Jews and Judaism in the Second Temple Period, vol. 1, Yehud: A History of the Persian Province of Judah, London / New York 2004. —, Ancient Israel: What Do We Know and How Do We Know It? London / New York 2007. —, “‘Many Nations Will Be Joined to Yhwh in That Day’: The Question of Yhwh outside Judah”, in: F. Stavrakopoulou / J. Barton (eds.), Religious Diversity in Ancient Israel and Judah, London / New York 2010, 175–187. —, “Omri and Son, Incorporated: The Business of History”, in: M. Nissinen (ed.), Congress Volume Helsinki 2010 (VT.S 148), Leiden 2012, 61–83. —, “Elephantine and the Torah”, in: A. F. Botta (ed.), In the Shadow of Bezalel: Aramaic, Biblical, and Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Honor of Bezalel Porten (CHANE 60), Leiden 2013, 125–135. —, “The Exodus and Historicity”, in: T. B. Dozeman et al. (eds.), The Book of Exodus: Composition, Reception, and Interpretation (VT.S 164), Leiden 2014, 61–87. —, “Penetrating the Legend: in Quest of the Historical Ezra”, in: M. C. A. Korpel / L. L. Grabbe (eds.), Open-Mindedness in the Bible and Beyond: A Volume of Studies in Honour of Bob Becking (LHB 616), London / New York 2015, 97–110. HARAN, M., Temples and Temple-Service in Ancient Israel, Oxford 1978.

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HARDMEIER, C., “King Josiah in the Climax of DtrH (2 Kgs 22–23) and the Pre-Dtr Document of a Cult Reform at the Place of Residence (23.4–15*): Criticism of Sources, Reconstruction of Earlier Texts and the History of Theology of 2 Kgs 22–23”, in: Grabbe (ed.), Good Kings and Bad Kings, 123–163. HERZOG, Z., “The Date of the Temple of Arad: Reassessment of the Stratigraphy and the Implications for the History of Religion in Judah”, in: A. Mazar (ed.), Studies in the Archaeology of the Iron Age in Israel and Jordan (JSOT.S 331), Sheffield 2001, 156–178. —, “The Fortress Mound at Tel Arad: An Interim Report”, TA 29 (2002) 3–109. —, “Perspectives on Southern Israel’s Cult Centralization: Arad and Beer-sheba”, in: R. G. Kratz / H. Spieckermann (eds.), One God, One Cult, One Nation: Archaeological and Biblical Perspectives (BZAW 405), Berlin 2010, 169–199. HOLLOWAY, S. W., Aššur Is King! Aššur Is King! Religion in the Exercise of Power in the Neo-Assyrian Empire (CHANE 10), Leiden 2002. HOUSTON, W., Purity and Monotheism: Clean and Unclean Animals in Biblical Law (JSOT.S 140), Sheffield 1993. HURVITZ, A., A Linguistic Study of the Relationship between the Priestly Source and the Book of Ezekiel: A New Approach to an Old Problem (CRB 20), Paris 1982. —, “Can Biblical Texts Be Dated Linguistically? Chronological Perspectives in the Historical Study of Biblical Hebrew”, in: A. Lemaire / M. Saebø (eds.), Congress Volume: Oslo 1998 (VT.S 80), Leiden 2000, 143–160. —, “The Recent Debate on Late Biblical Hebrew”, HS 47 (2006) 191–210. JOOSTEN, J., “The Distinction Between Classical and Late Biblical Hebrew as Reflected in Syntax”, HS 46 (2005) 327–339. KIM, D.-H., Early Biblical Hebrew, Late Biblical Hebrew, and Linguistic Variability: A Sociolinguistic Evaluation of the Linguistic Dating of Biblical Texts (VT.S 156), Leiden 2013. KNAUF, E. A., “Hezekiah or Manasseh? A Reconsideration of the Siloam Tunnel and Inscription”, TA 28 (2001) 281–287 (repr. in E. A. Knauf, Data and Debates: Essays in the History and Culture of Israel and its Neighbors in Antiquity / Daten und Debatten: Aufsätze zur Kulturgeschichte des antiken Israel und seiner Nachbarn (ed. H. M. Niemann et al.; AOAT 407), Münster 2013, 205–210. —, “Deborah’s Language: Judges Ch. 5 in its Hebrew and Semitic Context”, in: B. Burtea et al. (eds.), Studia Semitica et Semitohamitica: FS R. Voigt (AOAT 317), Münster 2005, 167–182. —, “The Glorious Days of Manasseh”, in: Grabbe (ed.), Good Kings and Bad Kings, 164– 188 (repr. in Knauf, Data and Debates, 251–275). —, “Bethel: The Israelite Impact on Judean Language and Literature”, in: O. Lipschits / M. Oeming (eds.), Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, Winona Lake, IN 2006, 291–349 (repr. in Knauf, Data and Debates, 277–328). —, “Observations on Judah’s Social and Economic History and the Dating of the Laws in Deuteronomy”, JHS 9/18 (2009) 1–8. KNOHL, I., “The Priestly Torah Versus the Holiness School: Sabbath and the Festivals”, HUCA 58 (1987) 65–117. —, The Sanctuary of Silence: The Priestly Torah and the Holiness School, Minneapolis 1995. LATEINER, D., The Historical Method of Herodotus (Phoenix Supplement 23), Toronto 1989. LAUINGER, J., “Some Preliminary Thoughts on the Tablet Collection in Building XVI from Tell Tayinat”, Journal of the Canadian Society for Mesopotamian Studies 6 (2011) 5–14. —, “Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty at Tell Tayinat: Text and Commentary”, JCS 64 (2012) 87–123.

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LEVIN, C., review of R. M. Wright, Linguistic Evidence for the Pre-Exilic Date of the Yahwistic Source, RBL 01 (2006) 1–5. LEVINSON, B. M., “Die neuassyrischen Ursprünge der Kanonformel in Deuteronomium 13,1”, in: S. Beyerle et al. (eds.), Viele Wege zu dem Einen. Historische Bibelkritik. Die Vitalität der Glaubensüberlieferung in der Moderne (Biblisch-theologische Studien 121), Neukirchen-Vluyn, 2012, 23–59. LOHFINK, N., “Gab es eine deuteronomistische Bewegung?” in: W. Gross (ed.), Jeremia und die “deuteronomistische Bewegung” (BBB 98), Beltz 1995, 313–382. MCCARTHY, D. J., Treaty and Covenant (AnBib 21A), 2nd edn, Rome 1978. MCKAY, J. W., Religion in Judah under the Assyrians 732–609 BC (Studies in Biblical Theology, Second Series 26), London 1973. MENDENHALL, G. E., Law and Covenant in Israel and the Ancient Near East, Pittsburg, PA 1955. MILGROM, J., Leviticus 1–16: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AncB 3), Garden City, NY 1991. —, Leviticus 17–22: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AncB 3A), Garden City, NY 2000. —, Leviticus 23–27: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AncB 3B), New York 2001. MILLER, J. M. / HAYES, J. H., A History of Ancient Israel and Judah, Minneapolis / London 1986. NA’AMAN, N., “The Kingdom of Judah under Josiah”, TA 18 (1991) 3–71. —, “The Debated Historicity of Hezekiah’s Reform in the Light of Historical and Archaeological Research”, ZAW 107 (1995) 179–195. —, “The Abandonment of Cult Places in the Kingdom of Israel and Judah as Acts of Cult Reform”, UF 34 (2002) 585–602. —, “The Kingdom of Judah under Josiah”, in: Grabbe (ed.), Good Kings and Bad Kings, 189–247. —, “The Jacob Story and the Formation of Biblical Israel”, Tel Aviv 41 (2014) 95–125. —, “Dismissing the Myth of a Flood of Israelite Refugees in the Late Eighth Century BCE”, ZAW 126 (2014) 1–14. NICHOLSON, E., The Pentateuch in the Twentieth Century: The Legacy of Julius Wellhausen, Oxford 1998. NIEMANN, H. M., “Kein Ende des Büchermachens in Israel und Juda (Koh 12,12) – Wann begann es?”, Bibel und Kirche 53 (1998) 127–134 (repr. in: H. M. Niemann, History of Ancient Israel, Archaeology, and Bible: Collected Essays / Geschichte Israels, Archäologie und Bibel: Gesammelte Aufsätze [ed. Meik Gerhards; AOAT 418], Münster 2015, 127–138). PARPOLA, S. / WATANABE, K.,. Neo-Assyrian Treaties and Loyalty Oaths (SAA 2), Helsinki, 1988. PAT-EL, N. / WILSON-WRIGHT, A., “Features of Archaic Biblical Hebrew and the Linguistic Dating Debate”, review of Robyn C. Vern, Dating Archaic Biblical Poetry, HS 54 (2013) 387–410. PEARCE, L. E., “New Evidence for Judeans in Babylonia”, in: O. Lipschits / M. Oeming (eds.), Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, Winona Lake, IN 2006, 399–411. —, “Identifying Judeans and Judean Identity in the Babylonian Evidence”, in: J. Stökl / C. Waerzeggers (eds.), Exile and Return: The Babylonian Context (BZAW 478), Berlin 2015, 7–32. POLAK, F. H., review of D.-H. Kim, Early Biblical Hebrew, Late Biblical Hebrew, and Linguistic Variability, RBL 07 (2013) 1–5.

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POLZIN, R., Late Biblical Hebrew: Toward an Historical Typology of Biblical Hebrew Prose (HSM 12), Missoula, MT 1976. REDFORD, D. B., A Study of the Biblical Story of Joseph (Genesis 37–50) (VT.S 20), Leiden 1970. RENDTORFF, R., The Problem of the Process of Transmission in the Pentateuch (trans. J. J. Scullion; JSOT.S 89), Sheffield 1990; ET of Das überlieferungsgeschichtliche Problem des Pentateuch (BZAW 147), Berlin 1977. —, “Two Kinds of P? Some Reflections on the Occasion of the Publishing of Jacob Milgrom’s Commentary on Leviticus 1–16”, JSOT 60 (1993) 75–81. ROBERTSON, D. A., Linguistic Evidence in Dating Early Hebrew Poetry (SBLDS 3), Atlanta 1972. RÖMER, T. / PURY, A. DE, “Deuteronomistic Historiography (DH): History of Research and Debated Issues”, in: A. de Pury et al. (eds.), Israel Constructs its History: Deuteronomistic Historiography in Recent Research (JSOT.S 306), Sheffield 2000, 24–141. ROOKER, M. R., Biblical Hebrew in Transition: The Language of the Book of Ezekiel (JSOT.S 90), Sheffield 1990. SHECTMAN, S. / BADEN, J. S. (eds.), The Strata of the Priestly Writings: Contemporary Debate and Future Directions (AThANT 95), Zurich 2009. SHRIMPTON, G. S., History and Memory in Ancient Greece, Montreal / Kingston 1997. SMITH, M., Palestinian Parties and Politics that Shaped the Old Testament, New York 1971. SPIECKERMANN, H., Juda unter Assur in der Sargonidenzeit (FRLANT 129), Göttingen 1982. STACKERT, J., “The Holiness Legislation and Its Pentateuchal Sources: Revision, Supplementation, and Replacement”, in: Shectman / Baden (eds.), The Strata of the Priestly Writings, 187–204. STEYMANS, H. U., Deuteronomium 28 und die adê zur Thronfolgeregelung Asarhaddons: Segen und Fluch im Alten Orient und in Israel (OBO 145), Freiburg 1995. —, “Deuteronomy 28 and Tell Tayinat”, Verbum et Ecclesia 34/2 (2013), Art. #870, http://www.ve.org.za/index.php/VE/article/view/870/1867 (accessed 19 Jan 2016). UEHLINGER, C., “Gab es eine joschijanische Kultreform? Plädoyer für ein begründetes Minimum”, in: W. Gross (ed.), Jeremia und die “deuteronomistische Bewegung” (BBB 98), Beltz 1995, 57–89. —, “Was There a Cult Reform under King Josiah? The Case for a Well-Grounded Minimum”, in: Grabbe (ed.), Good Kings and Bad Kings, 279–316. USSISHKIN, D., “The Date of the Judaean Shrine at Arad”, IEJ 38 (1988) 142–157. VAN SETERS, J., In Search of History: Historiography in the Ancient World and the Origins of Biblical History, New Haven / London 1983. VERN, R. C., Dating Archaic Biblical Poetry: Critique of the Linguistic Arguments (PHSC 10), Piscataway 2011. WEIDNER, E. F., “Jojachin, König von Juda, in babylonischen Keilschrifttexten”, in: Mélanges Syriens offerts a Monsieur René Dussaud par ses amis et ses élèves, Paris 1939, vol. 2, 923–935. WHYBRAY, R. N., The Making of the Pentateuch: A Methodological Study (JSOT.S 53), Sheffield 1987. WOODBINE, G. E., “The Language of English Law”, Speculum 18 (1943) 395–436. WRIGHT, R. M., Linguistic Evidence for the Pre-Exilic Date of the Yahwistic Source (LHB 419), London 2005. YOUNG, I., Diversity in Pre-Exilic Hebrew (FAT 5), Tübingen 1993. — (ed.), Biblical Hebrew: Studies in Chronology and Typology (JSOT.S 369), London 2003. YOUNG, I. et al., Linguistic Dating of Biblical Texts, vol. 1, An Introduction to Approaches and Problems, London 2008.

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—, Linguistic Dating of Biblical Texts, vol. 2, A Survey of Scholarship, a New Synthesis and a Comprehensive Bibliography, London 2008. ZEVIT, Z., “Converging Lines of Evidence Bearing on the Date of P”, ZAW 94 (1982) 481–511. — (ed.), “Symposium: Can Biblical Texts Be Dated Linguistically?” HS 46 (2005) 321–376. —, “Historical Linguistics and the Dating of Hebrew Texts”, HS 46 (2005) 321–326. — (ed.), “Symposium: Can Biblical Texts Be Dated Linguistically?” HS 47 (2006) 83–210.

Suspicious Similarities A Comparative Study of the Falls of Samaria and Jerusalem Peter Dubovský 1. Introduction The falls of the northern and southern kingdoms constituted the two most traumatic events in the history of Ancient Israel. This paper investigates similarities between these two events and the literary production to which they gave rise. It will be divided into three sections. The first section of this paper is dedicated to a study of historical events, in particular to the similarities and differences between the Assyrian conquest of Samaria and the Babylonian conquest of Jerusalem. Both events have become the object of historical and religious reflection in the past. Consequently various comparisons are made between the fall of the northern kingdom and that of the southern kingdom. Therefore the second part of this paper will be dedicated to a comparison between the two falls in 2 Kings. In the third part I will investigate the connection between the interpretations of the falls of both kingdoms as presented in 2 Kings and the Pentateuch, in particular in Deut 28.

2. Historical Overview The conquest of each kingdom was the result of a long process during which Assyrian or Babylonian troops were gradually taking control of Syria–Palestine. Since the expansion of both invading empires was from east to west, geography dictated a similar sequence of military campaigns. In order to expand westwards, the troops of both imperial armies had to conquer three strategic regions: the northern Levant (north-western Syria and south-eastern Turkey), the southern Levant (Lebanon, southern Syria, Jordan and Israel) and Egypt. The conquest of the northern Levant represented the first obstacle to overcome. Thus, Tiglath-pileser had his troops march for three years against Arpad (743–740 BCE) before crushing its resistance. Then he conducted a major campaign to conquer Unqi and Hatarikka.1 Similarly, Nabopalassar and his successor Nebuchadnezzar needed almost five years to conquer Haran and Carchemish (ABC 3–5). 1

TADMOR, Inscriptions, 234–237.

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After the submission of the northern Levant, the southern Levant, including Samaria and Jerusalem, was the next problem to be tackled. During the NeoAssyrian period, Tyre–Samaria–Damascus blocked the advance of Assyrian troops, and only after three campaigns was Tiglath-pileser III able to put an end to the so-called Syro–Ephraimite coalition. His successors needed other campaigns to subdue Israel, Phoenicia, Philistia and Judah.2 Contrarily, Nebuchadnezzar’s army, marching against Ashkelon, encountered much less resistance. For both empires, to subdue the southern Levant, in reality, meant conquering or negotiating the submission of the most important cities, among them Samaria, which was conquered by the Assyrians, and Jerusalem, conquered by the Babylonians. The fall of Samaria went through several stages. Samaria suffered the first consequences of Assyrian military expansion after Tiglath-pileser III’s initial series of invasions (738–734 BCE).3 While Samaria still remained an independent kingdom, Menahem had to pay tribute to Assyria (RINAP 1 14:10; 27:3).4 Tiglath-pileser III’s second series of campaigns (734–732 BCE) resulted in the first deportation from northern Israel.5 As a result of this invasion, Samaria was transformed into a fully fledged Assyrian vassal kingdom, ruled by a local king, Hoshea (RINAP 1 42:17’; 49 r. 10). The downfall of Samaria started during the reign of Shalmaneser V (ABC 1 i 28) 6 and was completed by Sargon II, who himself boasted about conquering Samaria and deporting its inhabitants (727–716).7 After Sargon II’s intervention, the northern kingdom ceased to exist and was transformed into a new Assyrian province ruled by Assyrian governors.8 The whole process, from Tiglath-pileser III’s first series of invasions to Sargon II’s deportation, lasted about twenty years (c.738–716 BCE). A similar process took place in the South.9 An independent and prosperous Judean kingdom started losing its independence after the death of Josiah (610 / 609 BCE). The new king, Jehoahaz, was deposed by Pharaoh Necho and a new king, Jehoiakim, became an Egyptian vassal. However, the victorious advance of Nebuchadnezzar’s troops in the southern Levant transformed Judah from an Egyptian vassal into a Babylonian one (604 BCE; ABC 5:15–20). The unsuccessful Babylonian attempt to conquer Egypt in 601 BCE (ABC 5 r. 5–7) 2

OLMSTEAD, History, 182–336. KUAN, Inscriptions, 142–146. 4 For the meaning of Menahem’s payment see COGAN / TADMOR, II Kings, 176. 5 For a more detailed discussion of the fall of Samaria see, for example, DUBOVSKÝ, “Tiglath-Pileser III”; GALIL, “Years”; NA’AMAN, “Background”; TETLEY, “Date”; YOUNGER, “Fall”; BECKING, Fall. 6 DUBOVSKÝ, “Shalmaneser V”. 7 FUCHS, Inschriften, 197. 8 WEIPPERT et al., Textbuch, 312–325. For the Assyrian governors of Samaria see SAAS II, 105–106; SAA VI 147:7’–8’; 148:4’–5’; those of Megiddo see SAA VI 223:r.9; SAAS II, 96. 9 For a review of the historical events and archaeological details see LIPSCHITS, Fall; FAUST, Judah; VAN DER VEEN, Final Phase; MALAMAT, “Last Kings”; RONCACE, Jeremiah. 3

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gave rise to a short period of Judean independence.10 The downfall of Jerusalem itself started with Nebuchadnezzar’s first invasion. The city of Jerusalem was conquered and its king, Jehoiachin, was deported to Babylon (598 / 597; ABC 5 r.11–13). Nebuchadnezzar’s second invasion (586 BCE) and the destruction of the city carried out by his general Nebuzaradan can be partially reconstructed from the Lachish Ostraca as well as from the biblical sources.11 As a result, the kingdom of Judah was fully incorporated into the Babylonian administrative orbit and ceased to exist, even despite an attempt by local lords to prevent this (2 Kgs 25:25–26).12 The whole process lasted about twenty years (604–586 BCE). The last twenty years of both kingdoms were intrinsically linked with the ebbs and flows of Assyrian and Babylonian control of the region. Samaria took advantage of the diminishing Assyrian presence in the Levant or the deployment of Assyrian troops in other regions and rebelled against Assyria.13 A similar dynamic can be observed during the Babylonian period. When Babylonian troops suffered losses or were busy in other parts of the kingdoms, Judean kings did not hesitate to rebel.14 The rebellions and struggle for independence, on the one hand, and the imminent threat of invading troops and their destruction of entire regions, on the other hand, generated similar dynamics in both kingdoms. Both concluded alliances with their neighbours in order to get rid of the occupying power – often, ironically, with their former enemies. Thus Israel concluded a treaty with Aram, which had fought the northern kingdom for almost a century, and Judah with Egypt, which had deposed Jehoahaz and imposed heavy tribute upon Judah. Moreover, both kingdoms became unstable and often changed their kings. These dynamics, which Assyrian and Babylonian troops generated in Israel and Judah, were common in the Levant in other periods as well.15 The falls of both capitals were preceded by a series of rebellions and upheavals that involved the whole country.16 The decisive attack, in both cases, included a prolonged siege. Once the capitals were conquered, a massive deportation followed and the regions were absorbed into Assyrian and Babylonian administrative systems accordingly. Although they followed similar patterns regarding the resistance and conquest of the Levant, the main difference between Assyrian control and Babylonian control of Syria-Palestine was in relations with Egypt. It required the best efforts of two Assyrian kings, Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal, to conquer recalcitrant 10

GRABBE, “Kingdom”, 110–111. AUERBACH, “Nebukadnezar”; AHI 1, 405–427; WEIPPERT et al., Textbuch, 419–424; GRABBE, Ancient Israel, 204–215; GARBINI, Scrivere, 172–179. 12 BECKING, David, 147–173. 13 TAPPY, Archaeology, 531–579. 14 LIVERANI, Israel’s History, 183–199; KESSLER, Sozialgeschichte, 127–132. 15 DUBOVSKÝ, “Dynamics”. 16 VAN DER VEEN, Final Phase, 20. 11

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Egypt.17 Once Egypt fell into the Assyrian hands, the southern Levant, including Samaria, was one among many provinces in an enormous empire extending from Egypt to Elam.18 By contrast, the extension of the Babylonian empire was much smaller, and Babylonia never did conquer Egypt. This caused a change in politics towards Judah, the buffer state between Babylonia and Egypt.19 The different geopolitical status of Judah entailed different policies regarding Jerusalem in the Babylonian period and Samaria in the Neo-Assyrian period. The expansionist tendencies of the Egyptian Pharaohs Psammetichus II and Hophra meant that the Babylonians had to turn the buffer state of Judah into an entity that would not be capable of revolt against Babylonia. No such measures were needed against Samaria during the Neo-Assyrian period, because Samaria did not border a kingdom comparable to Egypt in military and economic power. Probably this was one of the reasons why Jerusalem was razed to the ground, whereas the city of Samaria was spared from destruction. O. Lipschits summarized this difference: The Babylonian reaction to Zedekiah’s revolt should not be viewed as merely an act of vindictiveness against Judah or an impulsive punishment for the revolt. The reaction was a carefully calculated act, with specific political goals, and was the first manifestation of the altered Babylonian policy toward Hatti-land. The intent was to remove the Davidic dynasty from power, because it had proved itself disloyal time and again, and to destroy Jerusalem, which had repeatedly shown itself to be a center of rebellion against Babylonian rule.

As a result of different Assyrian and Babylonian policies towards the southern Levant after the Assyrian conquest, Samaria became an Assyrian province,20 whereas Jerusalem ceased to be the capital of the Judean region and the Babylonian administration was transferred to Mizpah. Not only the extent but also the duration of the Neo-Babylonian empire was different from the Neo-Assyrian one. The Neo-Babylonian empire lasted only a little more than a half century; the Neo-Assyrian survived for more than two centuries. Samaria could enjoy the advantages of the Pax Assyriaca for over a hundred years,21 whereas Judah, except Benjamin, remained devastated.22 The Babylonians, unlike the Assyrians, did not invest too much in trade and the development of the local economies. They did not create an imperial administrative system in Judah that would stand comparison with the Assyrian provincial system. This Neo-Babylonian policy led to a drastic decline in the economy and in trade, as well as in urban life, throughout the southern Levant.23 While the Assyrians left several administrative buildings such as 17

KAHN, “Assyrian Invasions”. RADNER, “Provinz”. 19 The following summary is based on VANDERHOOFT, Neo-Babylonian Empire; LIPSCHITS, Fall. 20 ZERTAL, “Province”. 21 PARKER, Mechanics, 249–271. 22 FAUST, Judah, 31–32. 23 This was not true in other parts of the Neo-Babylonian empire, see JURSA, Aspects; BAKER / JURSA (eds.), Babylonian Economy. 18

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Megiddo, Dor, Tel Chinnereth, Ayyelet ha-Shahar, etc., witnessing to their interest in trade, the Babylonian empire left no traces in Syria-Palestine “in other than a destructive way”.24 Finally there were differences regarding the deportation policy of each empire. Whereas inhabitants were deported from both regions, there is no evidence that there was an influx of people into Judah during the Babylonian period. Contrarily, the Assyrians not only deported people from Samaria but also moved people into it.25 In sum, the political dynamics and military events preceding the downfalls of Samaria and Jerusalem have several points in common. Above all, neither Samaria nor Jerusalem was conquered in a single military campaign, but the submission of the capitals was part of a long process, including conquest, which resulted in the full incorporation of each region into the Assyrian or the Babylonian system respectively. This period of transition caused great instability in both regimes, and generated similar political dynamics and patterns of resistance. But whereas the stages preceding conquest shared similar patterns, the contrary was true for the phases after the conquest. Assyrian policies towards Samaria after its submission differed radically from the Babylonian treatment of Jerusalem. The main differences related to the severity of the measures taken against the capitals, deportation strategies, and trade and development in the respective regions.

3. The Falls of Samaria and Jerusalem in 2 Kings Both events became the object of historical and religious reflections. These reflections generated various types of comparisons between the falls of Samaria and Jerusalem, for example in Hos 5, Ezek 23, Jer 3:6–13, 2 Kgs 15, 17 and 24–25.26 From among these texts I will focus on the Books of Kings. Examining the descriptions of these events in 2 Kings, we can observe that, despite several differences,27 the final editors of the Books of Kings created multiple linguistic and thematic links between the two descriptions. Both descriptions can be characterized by literary genres relating to invasion.28 These genres in 1–2 Kings display several differences in language, forms and theme. Taking literary type (notices, reports, accounts and stories) as a way of 24

JURSA, “Neo-Babylonian Empire”, 121. NA’AMAN / ZADOK, “Assyrian Deportations”; ODED, Mass Deportations, 18–74. 26 To this list we can add similarities between 2 Kgs 17 and Jer 44, providing a similar theological explanation for the fall of both kingdoms. 27 The fall of Samaria starts with a series of coups d’état in the northern kingdom (2 Kgs 15:8–31) and ends with the Assyrian conquest of Samaria (2 Kgs 17:1–6). The fall of Jerusalem starts with the death of Josiah (2 Kgs 23:29–30) and ends with the Babylonian destruction of Jerusalem (2 Kings 25). 28 CAMPBELL, “Form Criticism’s Future”, 26–29. 25

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categorizing these genres, we can distinguish invasion notices (1 Kgs 9:16; 2 Kgs 10:32–33; 13:25; 14:28),29 invasion reports (1 Kgs 14:25–28; 2 Kgs 8:20–22, 28–29; 12:17–19; 15:16, 19–20, 29; 17:3–6; 18:9–11; 23:29–30),30 invasion accounts (1 Kgs 12:21–24; 15:16–22; 2 Kgs 14:8–14; 16:1–19)31 and invasion stories (1 Kgs 20; 22; 2 Kgs 18–19).32 The notices and reports are distinguished from the other literary genres by their brevity. They report the facts in a very concise manner. At the opposite end of the spectrum are long narrations (invasion stories) with sophisticated plot, rhetorical and narrative devices, etc. Invasion accounts, including the accounts of the falls of Samaria and Jerusalem, can be located between these two ends of the spectrum. In addition to distinctions in terminology, a reading attentive to these literary genres shows that the final redactors took pleasure in creating several linguistic and thematic links between invasion narratives.33 Thus the final Hebrew texts of two invasion stories (1 Kgs 20 and 2 Kgs 18–19) share a similar pattern. Israel and Judah were invaded by foreign powers – Aram and Assyria respectively. Both offered to pay money to the invaders, but the invaders did not accept the proposal and continued to oppress them. In both cases the invaders’ hubris, vividly described, was punished by God. In both cases the plot is developed by means of direct speech, prophetic interventions and other narrative devices. Like the invasion stories, the shorter invasion accounts in 1 Kgs 15:16–22 and 2 Kgs 16:1–19 are built as parallel narratives.34 Both describe invasion by foreign powers. 1 Kgs 15:18–20 and 2 Kgs 16:7–9 share several points in common. The invaded kingdoms realised the impossibility of fighting off the invaders and their rulers sought help from other kings. Thus Asa sent a gift to Ben-hadad 35 and Ahaz to Tiglath-pileser III, both of whom accepted the money (‫)שחד‬36 and saved Israel and Judah respectively. 29

A notice is a brief report of one event. It is not too different from a simple statement. LONG, 1 Kings, 253. 30 A report is a brief narration that does not have a plot. It can be accumulation of several notices; ibid., 5, 259. 31 “Generally longer and more complex than simple report, an account may consist of several briefer reports, statements, descriptions, or even fragments of story, organized according to a common theme. The account may aim at some degree of explanation rather than simple narration of events. However, like reports, accounts show a matter-of-fact third-person narrative style and few literary, imaginative, or artistic features.” Ibid., 243. 32 An invasion story is a type of story whose main theme and action concern an invasion. It differs from an invasion report in “the sophistication of the narrative art. It shows narrative exposition, characterization and plot. Like a report it tends to emphasize a ‘historical’ aim”, i.e. what happened; ibid., 244. 33 The study of the narrative in pairs has been elaborated in NAHKOLA, Double Narratives, 162–171. 34 COGAN, 1 Kings, 400. 35 ELGAVISH, “Objective”, 142–149. 36 For the possible meanings of the term ‫ שׁ ַֹחד‬see COGAN / TADMOR, II Kings, 188.

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In sum, the narratives of the fall of Samaria and the fall of Jerusalem can be labelled as invasion accounts. Taking into consideration that the final redactors employed various literary techniques to pair their invasion stories (1 Kgs 20 and 2 Kgs 18–19) and invasion accounts (1 Kgs 15:16–22 and 2 Kgs 16:1–19), it is reasonable to ask whether the final Masoretic text of 2 Kings contains literary markers that urge the reader to read the falls of Samaria and Jerusalem as interlinked narratives. 3.1 Two Parallel Invasion Accounts (2 Kgs 17 versus 2 Kgs 24:1–17) Given the importance of the falls of Samaria and Jerusalem, descriptions of them show some characteristics that distinguish them from other invasion narratives. The most evident link between the narratives is the repetition of an invasion and vassalage formula (2 Kgs 17:3; 24:1): “PN1, king of …, marched … and PN2 became his servant”. The first part of the formula employs the verb ‫עלה‬, which often occurs in invasion literary genres (see above). However, the uniqueness of the descriptions in 2 Kgs 17 and 24 appears in the second part of this formula. The concept “a servant of someone” was a typical expression for vassalage relations (2 Sam 8:6; 2 Kgs 10:5; 16:7; 1 Chr 18:12). However, the phrase “‫ עבד‬PN ‫ ”ויהי־לו‬occurs only twice in the whole Bible (2 Kgs 17:3; 24:1).37 The Chronicler used the same verb (‫ ;עלה‬2 Chr 36:6a) to describe the invasion of Nebuchadnezzar, but Jehoiakim’s submission is expressed in a different way. According to 2 Chr 36:6b, the result of Nebuchadnezzar’s invasion was the arrest of Jehoiakim and his deportation to Babylonia. Conversely, according to 2 Kgs 24:1, employing the vassalage formula, after the invasion Jehoiakim became a vassal of Babylonia. In sum, the specific use of the whole formula in 2 Kgs 17 and 24, and its verbatim repetition in these two passages – by contrast with the omission of the second part of the formula from 2 Chr 36:6b – are arguments strong enough to justify the conclusion that the final editors intentionally created links between the narrative of the fall of Samaria and that of Jerusalem. These literary links lead us to the question of whether the narratives as a whole share other literary or thematic elements. I will argue that both narratives share a similar sequence of events: 1. first invasion, 2. vassalage, 3. revolt, 4. punishment, 5. decisive assault, 6. siege, 7. aftermath.38 Sections 1–2 and 1’–2’ (2 Kgs 17:3; 24:1a). The formula given above reads “PN1, king of …, marched … and PN2 became his servant”. The first part of this formula employs the verb in qatal, ‫( עלה‬section 1). It states in very broad terms that Shalmaneser and Nebuchadnezzar led campaigns against Samaria and Jerusalem respectively. Scholars agreed that 2 Kgs 24:1a refers to Nebuchadnezzar’s 37 38

The only place where a similar phrase occurs is Gen 9:26–27. For a similar division see FRITZ, Kings, 349.

54

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campaign against Ashkelon in 605 / 604 BCE. After having ascended the throne in Babylon (ABC 5:9–11), Nebuchadnezzar marched against the southern Levant and conquered Ashkelon in 604 (ABC 5:15–20).39 The general statement ‫( בימיו עלה נבכדנאצר מלך בבל‬2 Kgs 24:1a) summarizes this campaign. As the result of the campaign Judah became a vassal of Babylonia for three years (section 2; cf. 2 Kgs 24:1b). The interpretation of the same formula in 2 Kgs 17:3, however, generates several problems as to how to reconstruct the Assyrian campaigns against Samaria.40 Comparing the meaning of the formula in 2 Kgs 24:1 with that in 17:3, we can conclude that there is no reason to claim that the narrative function of the verb ‫ עלה‬differs in these two cases. Consequently, since the formula “PN1, king of …, marched … and PN2 became his servant” describes a real campaign and its result in 2 Kgs 24:1, it makes sense to conclude that the phrase ‫ עליו עלה שלמנאסר מלך אשור‬in 17:3 is not only a narrative introduction but also a description of a campaign that resulted in Samaria becoming a vassal of Assyria. Sections 3 and 3’ (2 Kgs 17:4a; 24:1b). Both narratives continue with a note on a revolt. Whereas 2 Kgs 17:3–4 gives details about what the revolt involved, 24:1c reports on it only briefly, ‫וישב וימרד־בו‬.41 Besides in 2 Kgs 24:1, 20, the verb ‫ מרד‬is used in 1–2 Kings only for the description of Hezekiah’s rebellion against Sennacherib (2 Kgs 18:7), which Rab-shaqeh interpreted as Judean plotting with Egypt against Assyria (2 Kgs 18:20). This interpretation is indirectly confirmed by the history of the political situation in the southern Levant between 605 and 598 BCE. After a series of military victories, Babylonian troops suffered heavy losses in 601 BCE when they tried to invade Egypt (ABC 5 r.5–7). The Egyptians’ successful obstruction of the advancing Babylonian army caused a series of rebellions in the Levant, including in Jerusalem. The rebellions against, and resistance to, Babylonia were naturally backed up by Egypt. So if 2 Kgs 24:1c is interpreted within the literary context of 1–2 Kings, and in the light of the political events of that period, then the rebellion of Jehoiakim took place after 601 BCE and was backed up by Egypt. In sum, sections 3 and 3’ refer to a conspiracy / revolt intended, directly (2 Kgs 17:4) or indirectly (2 Kgs 24:1c), as complotting with Egypt against Assyria and Babylonia respectively. 39

COGAN / TADMOR, II Kings, 307–310. For a review of the campaigns see NA’AMAN, “Historical Background”, 206–212; HAYES / KUAN, “Final Years”, 153–156. 41 The first segment, ‫וישב‬, can be connected with the rebellion or read in the light of 2 Kgs 17:3 and translated in two ways: NLT: “Jehoiakim’s reign, King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon invaded the land of Judah. Jehoiakim surrendered and paid him tribute for three years but then rebelled”. NRS: “In his days King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon came up; Jehoiakim became his servant for three years; then he turned and rebelled against him”. 40

Suspicious Similarities

55

Sections 4 and 4’ (2 Kgs 17:4b; 24:2a). Before the final conquest, both narratives introduce a partial punishment: Hoshea was arrested (2 Kgs 17:4) and Judah was invaded by bands from surrounding nations (2 Kgs 24:2). The arrest of Hoshea was the last in series of Assyrian measures taken against Samaria, before Samaria was captured and passed into Assyrian hands. In the narrative of the fall of Samaria, Hoshea’s arrest functions as a last warning sign before the northern kingdom ceased to exist. Contrary to the version in Chronicles,42 the punishment of Judah in 2 Kgs 24:2 took the form of raiding bands that encroached on its territory. The term “band”, ‫גדוד‬, in Kings refers to relatively small military units invading the northern kingdom: Arameans (2 Kgs 5:2; 6:23) or Moabites (2 Kgs 13:20–21) raiding Israel. According to MT, the bands were sent by YHWH as a warning sign for Judah. LXX omits “YHWH”; the bands might have been parts of Babylonian military units, which were usually composed of various ethnic groups. It is also plausible that the bands refer to nomads who filled the gap created by the destructive Babylonian activities.43 In sum, section 4 describes the last warnings given to Samaria and Jerusalem. The warnings took the form of a punishment that presaged the impending end of both kingdoms. Sections 5–6 and 5’–6’ (2 Kgs 17:5a; 24:10a). Since the warnings do nor find their mark, both narratives move on to the description of the decisive assault. Each opens with a short summary introduction (2 Kgs 17:5a; 24:10a) employing the verb ‫עלה‬.44 In both cases the cities do not surrender immediately and the invading troops have to resort to siege. Sections 7 and 7’ (2 Kgs 17:6–7, 23b–41). The description of the conquest of both capitals unfolds three themes: conquest, deportation and aftermath. Both capitals passed into the invaders’ hands after a siege. Whereas in 2 Kgs 17:6 it is unclear whether the city surrenders, 2 Kgs 24:12 does suggest that Jehoiachin surrenders. Once the cities had been taken by the invaders, their inhabitants were deported and the region was reorganized.45 Sections 4–7 of the sequence I have described, in contrast to sections 1–3, display marked differences, despite having basic themes in common: 46 42

In 2 Chr 36:6, Nebuchadnezzar arrested Jehoiakim and not Zedekiah. This Chronicler’s reading would create a perfect parallel between sections 4 and 4’. Both the Assyrian and the Babylonian king punished the revolt, one by arresting Hoshea and the other Jehoiakim. 43 If the latter interpretation is advanced, then the note would be out of chronological order and it would rather refer to the nomadic tribes invading Judah after the destruction of Jerusalem. 44 The independent status of 2 Kgs 17:5–6 is clearly seen from its insertion into the southern account in 2 Kgs 18:9–11. 45 The description of the first conquest of Jerusalem can be synchronized with Babylonian chronicles which affirm that in 598 – three years after the battle in 601 BCE – the Babylonians decided to suppress the rebellions in the southern Levant. ABC 5 r.11–13 refers to the conquest of Jerusalem that corresponds to 2 Kgs 24:10–17. 46 The translation of the biblical text is taken from the NRSV.

56

Peter Dubovský

2 Kgs 17

2 Kgs 24:1–17

First invasion

(1) King Shalmaneser of Assyria came up against him

(1’) In his days King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon came up;

Vassalage

(2) Hoshea became his vassal, and paid him tribute

(2’) Jehoiakim became his servant for three years;

Revolt

(3) But the king of Assyria found treachery in Hoshea; for he had sent messengers to King So of Egypt, and offered no tribute to the king of Assyria, as he had done year by year;

(3’) then he turned and rebelled against him.

Punishment

(4) therefore the king of Assyria confined him and imprisoned him.

(4’) YHWH sent against him bands of the Chaldeans, bands of the Arameans, bands of the Moabites, and bands of the Ammonites;…

Decisive assault

(5) Then the king of Assyria invaded all the land and came to Samaria;

(5’) At that time the servants of King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon came up to Jerusalem,

(V) And in the ninth year of his reign, in the tenth month, on the tenth day of the month, King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon came with all his army against Jerusalem,

Siege

(6) for three years he besieged it.

(6’) and the city was besieged. King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon came to the city, while his servants were besieging it;

(VI) and laid siege to it; they built siege works against it all around. So the city was besieged until the eleventh year of King Zedekiah.

Aftermath

(7) In the ninth year of Hoshea the king of Assyria captured Samaria; he carried the Israelites away to Assyria. He placed

(7’) King Jehoiachin of Judah gave himself up to the king of Babylon, himself, his mother, his servants, his officers, and his

(VII) On the ninth day of the fourth month the famine became so severe in the city that there was no food for the people of the land.

Conquest Deportation Aftermath

2 Kgs 24:20 –25:30

(III) Zedekiah rebelled against the king of Babylon

57

Suspicious Similarities them in Halah, on the Habor, the river of Gozan, and in the cities of the Medes …. The king of Assyria brought people from Babylon, Cuthah, Avva, Hamath, and Sepharvaim, and placed them in the cities of Samaria in place of the people of Israel; they took possession of Samaria, and settled in its cities. When they first settled there, they did not worship YHWH; therefore YHWH sent lions among them, which killed some of them…

palace officials. The king of Babylon took him prisoner in the eighth year of his reign. He carried off all the treasures of the house of YHWH, and the treasures of the king's house; he cut in pieces all the vessels of gold in the temple of YHWH, which King Solomon of Israel had made, all this as YHWH had foretold. He carried away all Jerusalem, all the officials, …

Then a breach was made in the city wall; the king with all the soldiers fled by night by the way of the gate between the two walls, by the king's garden, though the Chaldeans were all around the city. They went in the direction of the Arabah … Nebuzaradan, the captain of the bodyguard, a servant of the king of Babylon, came to Jerusalem. He burned the house of YHWH, … carried into exile the rest of the people who were left in the city.

The king of Babylon made Mattaniah, Jehoiachin's uncle, king in his place, and changed his name to Zedekiah.

He appointed Gedaliah son of Ahikam son of Shaphan as governor over the people who remained in the land of Judah, whom King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon had left.

3.2 Other Similarities between the Falls of Samaria and Jerusalem Besides the similarities presented above, an attentive reader can easily observe several minor linguistic and thematic connections that the final redactors have created between the downfalls of the two cities in their larger literary context (2 Kgs 15; 17 and 2 Kgs 21–24). Neither kingdom was taken in a single campaign. According to the biblical accounts, during the first Assyrian invasion Menahem paid tribute then, during Pekah’s reign, the Assyrians conquered and deported the inhabitants of the northern part of the kingdom, then Shalmaneser invaded it and arrested the king, and only in the final phase did the Assyrians besiege and conquered Samaria. Similarly the Judean kingdom first became an Egyptian vassal and had to pay tribute, then it was invaded by Nebuchadnezzar, then by the raiding bands, and at the end the city was conquered and its inhabitants were deported. The period of time between the first Assyrian and Babylonian invasions and the final conquests were long enough to produce great instability in both the north and

58

Peter Dubovský

the south.47 The most evident characteristic of this instability was the shortening of the kings’ reigns: Jehoahaz reigned for three months and Jehoiachin for six months in Jerusalem; Zechariah reigned for six months and Shallum for one month in Samaria. Whereas in the north the rapid changes of ruler were caused by coups d’état, in the south the kings were removed by the foreign powers; however, the result was the same.48 In both cases the foreign power significantly limited the Judean and Israelite kings’ room for manoeuvre, and the executive power slid gradually out of their hands. The rapid changes on the throne were closely bound up with shifting allegiances. Thus from the biblical accounts it is possible to deduce that Shallum was anti-Assyrian, Menahem and Pekahiah were pro-Assyrian, Pekah was anti-Assyrian, and Hoshea started as pro-Assyrian and ended as anti-Assyrian. Allegiances shifted similarly in the South. Jehoahaz was anti-Egyptian, Jehoiakim started as pro-Egyptian then became antiBabylonian, and finished as pro-Babylonian, Jehoiachin was anti-Babylonian, Zedekiah at the beginning of his reign was pro-Babylonian and then antiBabylonian. The tumultuous last years, the rapid changes of king, the shifting allegiances and the presence of the occupying power indirectly resulted in unprecedented violence in both kingdoms. Menahem ripped open pregnant women,49 and there was extensive bloodshed in Jerusalem.50 Whereas in the north the kings were all bad, except for Jehu, in the south the kings were mainly good. The merits of the Judean kings abruptly changed after the death of Josiah. Jehoahaz and his successors (2 Kgs 23:31–25:30) were all considered bad kings. As a result the final years of both kingdoms were in the hands of poor rulers, which necessarily led to a similar end for both. The first bad Judean king was Jehoahaz. From the account of his reign we can observe two events that create links with the northern kingdom: the arrest of Jehoahaz and the payment of tribute. Besides the arrest of Hoshea in 2 Kgs 17:4, 1–2 Kings mention only two other kings who were arrested. First, Pharaoh Neco arrested Jehoahaz, king of Judah (2 Kgs 23:33) and then Nebuchadnezzar arrested Zedekiah, the last king of Judah (2 Kgs 25:7). The concentration of the arrest episodes in the last days of the northern and southern kingdoms creates another thematic link between the narratives of their falls. The arrests of Jehoahaz and Zedekiah functioned as last warnings given to the Judean kings before the final destruction of Jerusalem in a similar way to the arrest of Hoshea before the conquest of Samaria. In the second place, Jehoahaz’ successor, Jehoiakim, had to pay a heavy tribute to Pharaoh Neco in order to stay in power (2 Kgs 23:34–35). Similarly the usurper Menahem had to pay sub47

DUBOVSKÝ, “Why”. In the South the only coup occurred when the administrator of Judah, Gedaliah, was assassinated shortly after being appointed. According to the Neo-Assyrian annals, Tiglathpileser III directly intervened and put Hoshea on the throne in Samaria (RINAP 1 42:17’–18’). 49 COGAN, “Ripping”; DUBOVSKÝ, “Ripping”. 50 MT attributes it to Manasseh, LXX to Jehoiakim. 48

Suspicious Similarities

59

stantial tribute to Tiglath-pileser III so that the Assyrian king would endorse his rule (2 Kgs 15:19–20). Both Jehoiakim and Menahem collected money by taxing ordinary people and nobles – which, of course, drained the financial resources of both kingdoms. The description of the second conquest of Jerusalem also displays some links with the fall of Samaria (2 Kgs 17). Both capitals were exposed to a siege that lasted three years. Both kingdoms suffered the deportation of their citizens and both underwent a complicated process of incorporation into the invaders’ administration. Lions attacked and killed new settlers in Samaria; and rebels killed the Babylonian administrator Gedaliah. In both cases there remains an ambiguous hope for the exiled people (2 Kgs 17:34–41; 25:27–30). Similarly the deportation of the local inhabitants itself went through several stages. In both cases the vicissitudes of the people left behind in, or imported into, the land are extensively discussed (2 Kgs 17:24–33; 25:22–26). The emphasis on the completeness and irreversibility of the destruction, with the whole city being destroyed and its inhabitants deported in both cases, is expressed by the frequent use of the particle ‫כל‬.51 3.3 Two Parallel Accounts of the Fall of Jerusalem (2 Kgs 24:18–25:30) Before comparing the conclusions of the historical overview with the literary study of the falls of Samaria and Jerusalem, I will briefly analyse 2 Kgs 24:18–25:30. This narrative continues the description of the fall of Jerusalem. While it is possible to discuss whether 2 Kgs 24:18–25:30 is a later expansion of the first narrative (2 Kgs 24:1–17) or vice versa,52 in this section I will point to linguistic and thematic links between the two narratives, and between the second narrative of the fall of Jerusalem (2 Kgs 24:18–25:30) and that of the fall of Samaria (2 Kings 17). Whereas after the decisive assault the northern kingdom cease to exist, Nebuchadnezzar’s final attack did not abruptly destroy the Judean kingdom, and the Jerusalemites had a last chance: Nebuchadnezzar named Zedekiah king of Jerusalem. From 2 Kgs 24:20 onwards the narrative resumes some elements of the literary pattern described above, creating specific literary links between the first and second narratives of the fall of Jerusalem. Sections III~3 and 3’ (2 Kgs 24:20b): Shortly after being put on the throne, Zedekiah rebelled against Babylonia (section III~3). The literary links between sections 3 and III (2 Kgs 24:1–20) are created by repeating the same verb, preposition and even verbal form, ‫ וימרד־בו‬and ‫וימרד צדקיהו במלך בבל‬. Sections IV~4 and 4’: Sections 4 and 4’ have no counterpart in 2 Kgs 24–25, and the narrative moves directly to the decisive assault (sections 5 and V). 51 52

LIPSCHITS, Fall, 83. BEGG, “DtrP”.

60

Peter Dubovský

Reading 2 Kgs 24:1–17 and 24:20–25:30 together it can be concluded that the first Babylonian invasion and deportation should have served as partial punishment for Judah, i.e. as an equivalent of sections 4 and 4’. Its goal was to warn Judah that the kingdom was heading towards the same disastrous end that overtook the northern kingdom. But this warning was of no avail, just as the warnings given to the northern kings (2 Kgs 15:29) proved useless. Sections V~5 and 5’ (2 Kgs 25:1a): The description of the decisive assault starts alike in sections 5 and 5’ with a short narrative introduction summarizing the whole attack, though they use different verbs (‫ עלה‬and ‫)בוא‬. The description of the fall of Samaria (section 5) and the second narrative of the fall of Jerusalem (section V) are closely interlinked. Both start with a temporary clause that opens a new narrative unit. Both contain the phrase “in the ninth year of”, which occurs only twice in the Bible (2 Kgs 17:6 and 25:1). Sections VI~6 and 6’ (2 Kgs 25:1b-2): After the short summary statement the narrative continues with the description of the siege. The final redactors connected the first and the second narratives of the fall of Jerusalem by means of the verbatim repetition of the phrase ‫ותבא העיר במצור‬, which occurs in 1–2 Kings only in these two narratives (cf. 2 Kgs 24:10; 25:2 / Jer 52:5). Sections VII~7 and 7’ (2 Kgs 25:3–30): These sections represent the largest part of the narrative. They resume the vocabulary of 2 Kgs 24:10–17. In these two passages alone (2 Kgs 24:12 and 25:1–8) an unusual chronology based on the reigning Babylonian king is employed, as well as the expression ‫למלכו‬ instead of ‫( במלכו‬cf. 2 Kgs 23:36; 24:8, 18).53 Similarly, both narratives of the fall of Jerusalem use the same terminology for the deportation (the root ‫)גלה‬. Moreover, the second narrative develops the themes of the first in a hyperbolic way. Both kings left Jerusalem: Jehoiachin surrendered; Zedekiah escaped. Both kings met Nebuchadnezzar, and both were deported to Babylon. However, whereas Jehoiachin, his family and dignitaries were deported to Babylon, Zedekiah’s sons and his dignitaries were executed and Zedekiah’s eyes were put out. Jehoiachin later benefited from Babylonian generosity in exile, whereas Zedekiah was bound in chains and subsequently disappears from the narrative. Whereas during the first Babylonian conquest the city was looted and the temple’s vessels were smashed, in the second narrative the destruction is depicted in more vivid colours: the city was set on fire and its walls were torn down; the temple was destroyed in the conflagration, its columns were smashed and its bronze objects removed to Babylon. The extensiveness of the second deportation is also much greater than in Jehoiachin’s case. Finally, both narratives describe a possible future granted to Judah by the Babylonians: in the first the Babylonians appoint Zedekiah as ruler, in the second Gedaliah. But neither of these opportunities is taken. 53 Synchronization with the Babylonian kings is a characteristic feature of the Babylonian Chronicles (cf. for example ABC 5:15).

Suspicious Similarities

61

Whereas sections III, V, and VI contain several links to sections 3–3’, 5–5’ and 6–6’, it is important to notice that the second narrative of the fall of Jerusalem contains specific vocabulary and themes not developed in the first narrative. The differences can be noted, in particular, in the aftermath of the second Babylonian invasion.54 Whereas 2 Kgs 17 focuses more on the newcomers and their idolatrous practices, 2 Kgs 24–25 focus on the destruction of the temple, a so-called empty land, the revolt against Gedaliah, etc. 3.4 Summary The historical overview of the downfalls of Samaria and Judah furnished similar results to those produced by comparing the invasion accounts in 2 Kgs 15; 17 and 2 Kgs 24–25. The literary pattern employed to present the last days of Samaria and Jerusalem in 2 Kings emphasized that neither of the kingdoms collapsed straight away. Rather the downfall of both went through various phases and was produced by similar social and political dynamics. Comparable dynamics could be seen in the historical analysis of these two events. Moreover, the historical analysis showed significant differences between the situations in Samaria and Jerusalem after the Assyrian and Babylonian conquests. Similarly, whereas the narratives describing the situation before the downfall of Samaria and Jerusalem have linguistic and thematic links, more differences can be observed between the description of what happened after the conquests of both capitals. Comparing the presentation of the downfall of Jerusalem in 2 Kings with that in prophets such as Amos, Hosea, Jeremiah and Ezekiel, the differences are obvious. The prophets did not adopt an annalistic style, except in Jer 52, but rather used various different literary genres.55 So the first level of connection between the descriptions of the falls of Samaria and Jerusalem can be observed in the choice of an annalistic style (‘invasion literary genres’). It is only natural that, since the falls of Samaria and Jerusalem went through similar stages, they generated similarities in how those stages were described. Similarly, since the fortunes of both kingdoms after their conquest differed significantly, the descriptions of the aftermaths also differ significantly as to vocabulary and themes. Despite the explicable similarities and differences in the invasion literary genres that the falls of Samaria and Jerusalem generated, we observed the specific formulas and other unique linguistic and thematic links listed above. These links mainly concern the facts, in particular chronology and the nature of the events. They disclose directly or indirectly the political and military strategies preceding the fall of both kingdoms. They share details about the sieges, conquests and deportations. Consequently we have to distinguish between two similar invasion literary genres generated, as expected, by two similar sets of historical events, on the one hand, and, on the other, the specific linguistic links 54 55

LIPSCHITS, Fall, 97–122. BEN ZVI / SWEENEY (eds.), Changing Face, 269–325.

62

Peter Dubovský

that must have been introduced by later editors at a certain point. The nature of these links suggests that they were intentionally created in order to urge the reader to interpret the last days of Jerusalem in the light of the downfall of Samaria and vice versa. Since it is impossible to reflect on the fall of Jerusalem before it actually happened, it stands to reason that these factually orientated links were introduced into 2 Kings shortly after the fall of Jerusalem.

4. Impact on the Formation of the Pentateuch What is the meaning of these literary patterns for the rise of the Torah? The Book of Deuteronomy, in various places, describes the fall of Jerusalem and

Suspicious Similarities

63

its consequences. 2 Kings 17; 24–25 and Deut 28 share several key themes, such as invasion by a foreign army, siege, the devastation of the country, famine and exile. However, a closer examination of the vocabulary and narrative details brings out significant differences. Above all, the Book of Deuteronomy does not organize the description using invasion literary genres, but makes it part of a series of curses. Moreover, Deuteronomy (28:53, 55, 57) employs a slightly different vocabulary for the siege “in the desperate straits”, ‫במצור ובמצוק‬, more similar to that of Jeremiah (19:9). The vivid description of the consequences – famine and cannibalism – of a prolonged siege is a feature that occurs in Deut 28:53–57 and Jer 19:8–9, but not in 2 Kings, even though the famine is mentioned (2 Kgs 25:3). Moreover, the word used for the exile (‫)גלה‬, typical for both narratives in 2 Kings (17:6, 23, 26–33; 24:14–15; 25:11, 21), does not occur in Deuteronomy, which prefers other terms (‫ שבי‬in Deut 28:41, ‫ פוץ‬in 28:64)56 that are not used in 2 Kgs 17 and 24‒25. There are almost no references in Deuteronomy to what happened after the falls of Jerusalem and Samaria. These and other differences show that the factually orientated links between the fall of Samaria and that of Jerusalem in 2 Kings, such as the invasion patterns, characteristic vocabulary and fixed expressions, do not have parallels in Deuteronomy. 4.1. Theological Links Numerous scholars argued that the narratives in 2 Kgs 17 and 24–25 went through various phases of editing.57 Thus the final narrative contains opening and closing formulas framing the narratives about single kings (2 Kgs 17:1–2; 23:31–32, 36–37; 24:5–6, 8–9, 18–19).58 Besides the royal trappings, the final text also contains annalistic notes (on Egypt in 2 Kgs 24:7) as well as homiletical and exhortatory passages. Even a quick examination of the theological reflections inserted into the narrative of the fall of Samaria (2 Kgs 17:7–23a, 34–41) shows that no similarly extensive reflection exists in 2 Kgs 24‒25.59 The first narrative of the fall of Jerusalem contains three verses of reflection (2 Kgs 24:2b–4, 13c) and the second only one verse, situated at the beginning of the narrative 56

Cf. also Deut 28:32, 36. NELSON, Double Redaction, 85–90; FRITZ, Kings, 351–357, 414–426; GRAY, Kings, 638–641, 751–775; WÜRTHWEIN, Könige, 391–393, 466–484; LONG, 2 Kings, 180–189, 285–290. For the redaction of 2 Kings 17, see FREVEL, “Schreiben”. For 2 Kgs 24‒25 see, for example, VANONI, “Beobachtungen”. 58 “[T]he synchronisms cannot derive from the respective royal chronicles, but must go back to the author of the excerpt”: LEVIN, Re-Reading, 184. 59 For further studies see HOFFMANN, Reform, 323–366; PERSON, Deuteronomic School, 117–120. 57

64

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(2 Kgs 24:20a).60 The scarcity of the Dtr vocabulary from 2 Kgs 23:26 on has led several scholars to the conclusion that a different redactor is at work.61 Despite the brevity of the theological comments in the first and second narratives of the fall of Jerusalem, it is possible to observe undeniable linguistic links between the theological comments in 2 Kgs 24:2b–4, 13c, 20a and 2 Kgs 17:7–23a, on the one hand, and the Book of Deuteronomy, on the other.62 In the comments a divine wrath theology63 is used to explain the irrevocable rejection of Israel and Judah, and the prediction of the catastrophes by means of God’s servants the prophets. Fall of Jerusalem First narrative 2 Kgs 24:2b–4, 13c

‫וישלחם ביהודה‬ ‫להאבידו‬

Fall of Samaria Second narrative 2 Kgs 25:20a

2 Kgs 17:7–23a, (34–41)

no equivalent

no equivalent

Deuteronomy

‫ישלח יהוה בך‬ ‫את־המארה‬ (Deut 28:20; cf. also 28:48, etc.)

‫כי־אבד תאבדון מהר‬ ‫מעל הארץ‬ (Deut 4:26)

‫כדבר יהוה‬

no equivalent

‫אשר דבר ביד‬ ‫עבדיו הנביאים‬

no equivalent

‫כאשר דבר יהוה‬

60

no equivalent

‫כאשר דבר ביד‬ ‫כל־עבדיו‬ ‫הנביאים‬

no equivalent The expression ‫כאשר‬ ‫ דבר יהוה‬only has a positive meaning in Deuteronomy, i.e. what YHWH promised to do for Israel (Deut 1:21; 2:1; 6:3, 19; 9:3; 10:9; 27:3; 31:3).64 The prediction of the disaster by means of the prophets does not have an equivalent in Deuteronomy.65

Differences in vocabulary and themes between the theological comments in 2 Kgs 21:3–16, 23:26–27 and 24:3–4 brought K. Schmid to conclude that these passages do not reflect the classical Deuteronomistic theology, but rather golaorientierte Theologie; SCHMID, “Manasse”, 98–99. 61 VANONI, “Beobachtungen”, 359. 62 WEINFELD, Deuteronomy, 320–363; ADAMCZEWSKI, Retelling, 271–276. 63 See for example KRATZ / SPIECKERMANN (eds.), Wrath; BODI, Ezekiel. 64 The phrase has positive meaning in Solomon’s narrative (1 Kgs 5:19; 8:20). 65 Partial equivalents could be Deut 13:3.

65

Suspicious Similarities

‫אך על־פי יהוה‬ ‫היתה ביהודה‬ ‫להסיר מעל פניו‬

no equivalent

‫וגם דם־הנקי אשר‬ ‫שפך וימלא‬ ‫את־ירושלם דם‬ ‫נקי‬

no equivalent

no equivalent

‫ולא־אבה יהוה‬ ‫לסלח‬

no equivalent

no equivalent

‫ויסרם מעל פניו‬

Only positive meaning (Deut 7:15)

‫עד אשר־הסיר‬ ‫יהוה את־ישראל‬ ‫מעל פניו‬ In legal cases Deut 19:10–13; 21:8–9; (cf. also Deut 27:25).

‫לא־יאבה יהוה סלח לו‬ (Deut 29:19)

‫כי על־אף יהוה‬ ‫היתה בירושלם‬ ‫וביהודה‬

‫ויתאנף יהוה‬ ‫מאד בישראל‬

‫עד־השלכו אתם‬ ‫מעל פניו‬

‫עד אשר‬ ‫השליכם מפניו‬

‫אף־יהוה‬ (Deut 6:15; 7:4; 29:19, etc.) A similar concept:

‫וישלכם אל־ארץ אחרת‬ (Deut 29:27)

The second group of theological comments can be identified by comparing the larger theological commentary in 2 Kgs 17:7–23a with the theological reflection in 2 Kgs 21:3–11. The latter, inserted into the account of Manasseh’s reign, functions in 2 Kings as the main theological interpretation of the fall of Jerusalem.66 A comparison of these two texts reveals another series of theological features linking the fall of Samaria with that of Jerusalem. Since several studies have already been dedicated to the Dtr vocabulary,67 let me present only the motifs that do not occur in the previous links, but do occur in 2 Kgs 17:7–23a, 2 Kgs 21:3–11 and Deuteronomy.68 This group of comments focuses on the nature of the idolatrous worship and of the other ways in which the Israelites and the Judeans sinned and provoked YHWH to anger.69 These abominable actions were indeed the real cause of the fall of both kingdoms, following the retribution model.70 66

The theological reflection on Manasseh can be divided into two sections: 2 Kgs 21:2(3)–11, 12–15(16). The second part takes the form of a doom oracle, sharing the doom formula with Huldah’s oracle, 2 Kgs 22:16–20 (cf. also Ahijah’s oracle against Jeroboam in 1 Kgs 14:10–16). For other connections see RÖMER, Deuteronomistic History, 160. 67 WEINFELD, Deuteronomy, 320–365; RÖMER, “Case”, 197–201. 68 Some features in Kings do not occur in Deuteronomy, such as the theme of building high places (2 Kgs 17:9; 21:3). 69 JOO, Provocation, 225–230. 70 FEDER, “Mechanics”.

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Peter Dubovský

Theme

2 Kgs 17:7–23a 2 Kgs 21:3–11

Deuteronomy

Sin

17:7, 21, 22

21:11

9:16

Following the sinful practices of the nations that YHWH expelled before the Israelites

17:8

21:2

18:12

Condemnation of illegitimate cultic practices

17:17

21:6

12:31; 18:10

Condemnation of the worship of the heavenly hosts

17:16

21:3

4:19; 17:3

Condemnation of Asherahs, Baals and other idols

17:10, 16

21:3, 7

To provoke God to anger

17:11, 17

21:6

4:25; 9:18; 31:29; 32:16, 21

(Not) observing the statutes, commandments and laws

17:13, 15, 16, 19

21:8

Major theme (cf. 28:15)

The third group of comments linking the fall of Samaria to that of Jerusalem represents direct comparisons. From among the theological additions in 2 Kings, two verses directly link the fall of Jerusalem to that of Samaria.71 In the midst of a long homiletic section explaining the causes of the downfall of Israel there is a verse on Judah (2 Kgs 17:18–19), and in the midst of a long list of Manasseh’s sins there is a comparison with Samaria (2 Kgs 21:13). The former displays the typical vocabulary of the previous group: “Judah also did not keep the commandments of YHWH their God but walked in the customs that Israel had introduced” (cf. 2 Kgs 17:8).72 The latter “I will stretch over Jerusalem the measuring line for Samaria, and the plummet for the house of Ahab” (NRSV) was probably inspired by Amos 7:7–10 and Isa 34:11.73 It represents a concept of comparison that does not contain typical Dtr vocabulary, but draws upon an old, probably preexilic, prophetic tradition. It combines 71

Similar direct comparisons can be found in Hos 5, Jer 3 and Ezek 23. However, it is necessary to note that in 1‒2 Kings the sins of Judah and Israel are never interpreted by means of the concept of two sisters who behaved like prostitutes (‫ – )זנה‬the favourite language of Jer 3:1–12 (cf. also Ezek 23) and Deut 31:16. 72 Deut 28:15, 45, etc. have the same concept, though always with the verb “to observe”, rather than the verb “to walk”. 73 KEIL, Commentary, 471.

Suspicious Similarities

67

the prophecy against Israel (Amos 7:7–10) with that against the nations (Isa 34:11). It stands in direct opposition to the oracle of salvation in Isa 28:17. 4.2. Summary The theological links presented above can be divided into three groups in chronological order. A unique theological comment directly linking the downfall of Samaria with that of Jerusalem occurs in 2 Kgs 21:13. This link has no equivalent in Deuteronomy and combines Amos 7:7–10 and Isa 34:11. Chronologically, the next level of links represents the theological comments inserted into the narrative on the fall of Jerusalem (2 Kgs 24:2b–4, 13c, 20a) and that of Samaria (2 Kgs 17:7–23a). These comments affirm the irrevocability of God’s rejection of both kingdoms, in conformity with the prophets’ accusations against both cities. These links have correspondences with Deuteronomy. The last type of theological link occurs in 2 Kgs 17:7–23a and in 2 Kgs 21:3–11. The wordy reflection in 2 Kgs 17:7–23a contrasts with the brief theological comments of 2 Kgs 24:2b–4, 13c, 20a. A similar wordy passage is inserted into the account of King Manasseh who, according to 2 Kings, was responsible for the downfall of Jerusalem.74 By individuating the features occurring in both 2 Kgs 17 and 21, and eliminating those that occur in 2 Kgs 24, we can bring forward a new group of theological comments linking the fall of Samaria with that of Jerusalem. What makes this group new is the focus on the reasons why Samaria and Jerusalem were condemned. The overlapping themes demonstrate that the main reason for the rejection of both cities was idolatrous worship and illegitimate practices that made God angry. These links also correspond to Deuteronomy. To which period can these theological links be dated? The terminus post quem is obviously the fall of Jerusalem, since it would be difficult to imagine the links referring to the fall of Jerusalem before it took place. The terminus ante quem is more difficult to establish. Josephus listed the reasons for the fall of Samaria (Ant. 9.281–282); however, they are different from those in 2 Kgs 17. Similarly, the theological evaluation of Manasseh in Ant. 10.37–45 is different from that in 2 Kgs 21. Since these items in Josephus are different from those in 2 Kings it makes sense that the theological links between the fall of Samaria and Jerusalem were created before the Greek-Roman period. Another element to be taken into consideration is Chronicles.75 2 Chr 36 contains a theological interpretation of the fall of Jerusalem that is partly different from 2 Kgs 24 (cf. 2 Kgs 24:2b–4, 13c, 20a and 2 Chr 36:12–16). This suggests that the theological links in 1–2 Kings which have parallels in Deuteronomy must have been created after the fall of Jerusalem, before the composition of Josephus’ Antiquities and probably before that of Chronicles.76 Moreover, these theological links do not belong to the same layer but rather to three different 74

HOFFMANN, Reform, 121–139; OHM, “Manasseh”, 239–252. RÖMER, “Case”, 187–190. 76 For the exilic dating see RÖMER, Deuteronomistic History, 158–163. 75

68

Peter Dubovský

textual / theological strata, from among which only the first layer (2 Kgs 21:13) does not have a parallel in Deuteronomy.

5. Conclusions Let me summarize the results of the previous sections. First, the historical analysis of the falls of Samaria and Jerusalem shows that both kingdoms underwent a similar process before they ceased to exist: they frequently changed their allegiances; the reigns of their kings became unstable; and their financial resources were drained by occupying powers. Moreover, neither of the kingdoms collapsed at once; they fell after repeated invasions and prolonged siege. Whereas the dynamics preceding the falls of both kingdoms were similar, the aftermaths differed significantly. The descriptions of the two downfalls in 2 Kings likewise display a similar chronology of events and similar dynamics before the falls of both kingdoms. Moreover, 2 Kings also preserves significant differences regarding their aftermaths. At this stage of their literary formation, the biblical texts of 1–2 Kings adopted invasion literary genres. Comparing the historical analysis of both events with the investigation of these literary genres, I suggest that it was natural for two similar events to generate two similar annalistic accounts. However, the similarities between invasion literary genres are inadequate to explain the verbatim repetitions and other literary links between the narratives in 2 Kgs 17 and 24‒25. As a result of a comparative analysis I argue that, at a certain stage, the final redactor intentionally created linguistic and literary links in order to read the final days of Jerusalem in the light of the final days of Samaria and vice versa. These links were factually orientated and mainly related to the events and their chronology, dates, and the political and military dynamics of these periods. The last category of links can be labelled as theological comments. Whereas the previous links focused on facts, the theological links do not reflect the facts but try to answer the question as to why both capitals fell. Were there other than military reasons why the capitals fell into the hands of invaders? Whereas the factually orientated links did not have parallels in Deuteronomy, most of the theological links reflect the vocabulary and themes characteristic of that book. Therefore, despite the particularity of Deuteronomy and Kings, it can be safely concluded that the final editions of Kings and Deuteronomy cannot be separated. The theological links created between the fall of Samaria and Jerusalem in 1‒2 Kings betray signs of a theological interpretation similar to that of Deuteronomy. What is, then, the connection between the fall of Jerusalem and the rise of the Torah? Thanks to the dialogue between Books of Deuteronomy and Kings the earlier, factually orientated links between the downfalls of Samaria and Jerusalem

Suspicious Similarities

69

in 2 Kings were taken to a new level. The rise of the Torah indeed meant the appearance of new theological connections between the fall of Jerusalem and that of Samaria, and vice versa: the fall of Jerusalem encouraged the creation of a theological basis for interpreting these two similar events. Both events were preceded by similar religious problems and caused by similar transgressions and sins. The rise of the Torah, in particular the Book of Deuteronomy, helped revisit the similarities between the falls of Samaria and Jerusalem, not only from a factually orientated viewpoint, but also in order to understand the similar religious dynamics that formed the basis of both downfalls.

Literature ADAMCZEWSKI, B., Retelling the Law: Genesis, Exodus-Numbers, and Samuel-Kings as Sequential Hypertextual Reworkings of Deuteronomy, Frankfurt a. M. 2012. AUERBACH, E., “Wann eroberte Nebukadnezar Jerusalem?”, VT 11 (1961) 128–136. BAKER, H. D. / JURSA M. (eds.), Approaching the Babylonian Economy: Proceedings of the Start Project Symposium Held in Vienna, 1–3 July 2004 (AOAT 330), Münster 2005. BECKING, B., The Fall of Samaria: An Historical and Archaeological Summary, Leiden 1992. —, From David to Gedaliah: The Book of Kings as Story and History (OBO 228), Fribourg 2007. BEGG, C. T., “‘DtrP’ in 2 Kings 25: Some Further Thoughts”, RB 96 (1989) 49–55. BEN ZVI, E. / SWEENEY, M. A. (eds.), The Changing Face of Form Criticism for the Twenty-First Century, Grand Rapids 2003. BODI, D., The Book of Ezekiel and the Poem of Erra, Freiburg 1991. CAMPBELL, A. F., “Form Criticism’s Future”, in: Ben Zvi / Sweeney (eds.), The Changing Face of Form Criticism for the Twenty-First Century, 15–31. COGAN, M., “‘Ripping Open Pregnant Women’ in Light of an Assyrian Analogue”, JAOS 103 (1983) 755–757. —, I Kings: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AncB 10), New York 2001. COGAN, M. / TADMOR, H., II Kings: A New Translation (AncB 11), Garden City 1988. DAVIES, G., Ancient Hebrew Inscriptions: Corpus and Concordance, Cambridge 1991 [= AHI]. DUBOVSKÝ, P., “Tiglath-Pileser III’s Campaigns in 734–732 B.C.: Historical Background of Isa 7, 2 Kgs 15–16 and 2 Chr 27–28”, Bib. 87 (2006) 153–170. —, “Ripping Open Pregnant Arab Women: Reliefs in Room L of Ashurbanipal’s North Palace”, Or. 78 (2009) 394–419. —, “Did Shalmaneser V Conquer the City of Samaria? An Investigation into the Ma/BaSign in Chronicle 1”, Or. 80 (2011) 423–438. —, “Dynamics of the Fall: Ashurbanipal’s Conquest of Elam”, in: K. de Graef / J. Tavernier (eds.), Susa and Elam: Archaeological, Philological, Historical and Geographical Perspectives: Proceedings of the International Congress Held at Ghent University, December 14–17, 2009, Leiden 2013, 451–470. —, “Why Did the Northern Kingdom Fall According to 2 Kings 15?”, Bib. 95 (2014) 321–346. ELGAVISH, D., “Objective of Baasha’s War against Asa”, in: G. Galil / M. Weinfeld (eds.), Studies in Historical Geography and Biblical Historiography. Presented to Zecharia Kallai (VT.S 81), Leiden 2000, 141–149.

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FAUST, A., Judah in the Neo-Babylonian Period: The Archaeology of Desolation, Atlanta 2012. FEDER, Y., “The Mechanics of Retribution in Hittite, Mesopotamian and Ancient Israelite Sources”, JANER 10 (2010) 110–157. FREVEL, C., “Vom Schreiben Gottes: Literarkritik, Komposition und Auslegung von 2 Kön 17,34–40”, Bib. 72 (1991) 23–48. FRITZ, V., 1 and 2 Kings: A Continental Commentary, Philadelphia 2003. FUCHS, A., Die Inschriften Sargons II. aus Khorsabad, Göttingen 1994. GALIL, G., “The Last Years of the Kingdom of Israel and the Fall of Samaria”, CBQ 57 (1995) 52–64. GARBINI, G., Scrivere la storia d’Israele: vicende e memorie ebraiche, Brescia 2008. GRABBE, L. L., “The Kingdom of Judah from Sennacherib’s Invasion to the Fall of Jerusalem: If We Had Only the Bible...”, in: idem (ed.), Good Kings and Bad Kings (LHB 393), London 2005, 78–122. —, Ancient Israel: What Do We Know and How Do We Know It? London 2007. GRAY, J., I and II Kings: A Commentary (OTL), 2nd edn, London 1970. HAYES, J. L. / KUAN, J. K., “The Final Years of Samaria (730–720 BC)”, Bib. 72 (1991) 153–181. HOFFMANN, H.-D., Reform und Reformen: Untersuchungen zu einem Grundthema der deuteronomistischen Geschichtsschreibung (AThANT 66), Zurich 1980. JOO, S., Provocation and Punishment: The Anger of God in the Book of Jeremiah and Deuteronomistic Theology (BZAW 360), Berlin 2006. JURSA, M., Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia in the First Millennium BC: Economic Geography, Economic Mentalities, Agriculture, the Use of Money and the Problem of Economic Growth (AOAT 377), Münster 2010. —, “The Neo-Babylonian Empire”, in: M. Gehler et al. (eds.), Imperien und Reiche in der Weltgeschichte: Epochenübergreifende und globalhistorische Vergleiche, Wiesbaden 2014, 121–148. KAHN, D., “The Assyrian Invasions of Egypt (673–663 B.C.) and the Final Expulsion of the Kushites”, SAÄK 34 (2006) 251–267. KEIL, C. F., Commentary on the Old Testament in Ten Volumes, vol. 3, I and II Kings, I and II Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, Grand Rapids 1980. KESSLER, R., Sozialgeschichte des Alten Israel: Eine Einführung, 2nd edn, Darmstadt 2008. KRATZ, R. G. / SPIECKERMANN, H. (eds.), Divine Wrath and Divine Mercy in the World of Antiquity (FAT II 33), Tübingen 2008. KUAN, J. K., Neo-Assyrian Historical Inscriptions and Syria-Palestine: Israelite/JudeanTyrian-Damascene Political and Commercial Relations in the Ninth-Eighth Centuries BCE, Hong Kong 1995. LEVIN, C., Re-Reading the Scriptures: Essays on the Literary History of the Old Testament (FAT 87), Tübingen 2013. LIPSCHITS, O., The Fall and Rise of Jerusalem: Judah under Babylonian Rule, Winona Lake 2005. LIVERANI, M., Israel’s History and the History of Israel, London 2003. LONG, B. O., 1 Kings: With an Introduction to Historical Literature (FOTL 9), Grand Rapids 1984. —, 2 Kings (FOTL 10), Grand Rapids 1991. MALAMAT, A., “The Last Kings of Judah and the Fall of Jerusalem: An HistoricalChronological Study”, IEJ 18 (1968) 137–156. NA’AMAN, N., “The Historical Background to the Conquest of Samaria (720 BC)”, Bib. 71 (1990) 206–225.

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NA’AMAN, N. / ZADOK, R., “Assyrian Deportations to the Province of Samerina in the Light of Two Cuneiform Tablets from Tel Hadid”, TA 27 (2000) 159–188. NAHKOLA, A., Double Narratives in the Old Testament: The Foundations of Method in Biblical Criticism, Berlin 2001. NELSON, R. D., The Double Redaction of the Deuteronomistic History (JSOT.S 18), Sheffield 1981. ODED, B., Mass Deportations and Deportees in the Neo-Assyrian Empire, Wiesbaden 1979. OHM, A. T., “Manasseh and the Punishment Narrative”, TynB 61 (2010) 237–254. OLMSTEAD, A. T., History of Assyria, Chicago 1975 [1923]. PARKER, B. J., The Mechanics of Empire: The Northern Frontier of Assyria as a Case Study in Imperial Dynamics, Helsinki 2001. PERSON, R. F., The Deuteronomic School: History, Social Setting, and Literature, Atlanta 2002. RADNER, K., “Provinz”, RLA 11 (2006) 42–68. RÖMER, T., The So-Called Deuteronomistic History: A Sociological, Historical and Literary Introduction, London 2005. —, “The Case of the Book of Kings”, in: D. V. Edelman (ed.), Deuteronomy–Kings as Emerging Authoritative Books: A Conversation, Atlanta 2013, 187–201. RONCACE, M., Jeremiah, Zedekiah, and the Fall of Jerusalem (LHB 423), New York 2005. SCHMID, K., “Manasse und der Untergang Judas: ‘Golaorientierte’ Theologie in den Königsbüchern?”, Bib. 78 (1997) 87–99. STAVRAKOPOULOU, F., King Manasseh and Child Sacrifice: Biblical Distortions of Historical Realities (BZAW 338), Berlin 2004. TADMOR, H., The Inscriptions of Tiglath-Pileser III, King of Assyria: Critical Edition, with Introductions, Translations and Commentary, Jerusalem 1994. TADMOR, H. / YAMADA, S. (eds.), The Royal Inscriptions of Tiglath-pileser III (744–727 BC) and Shalmaneser V (726–722 BC), Kings of Assyria (RINAP 1), Winona Lake 2011. TAPPY, R. E., The Archaeology of Israelite Samaria, vol. 2, Atlanta, 1992. TETLEY, M. C., “The Date of Samaria’s Fall as a Reason for Rejecting the Hypothesis of Two Conquests”, CBQ 64 (2002) 59–77. VANDERHOOFT, D. S., The Neo-Babylonian Empire and Babylon in the Latter Prophets, Atlanta 1999. VANONI, G., “Beobachtungen Zur Deuteronomistischen Terminologie in 2 Kön 23,25–25,30”, in: N. Lohfink (ed.), Das Deuteronomium: Entstehung, Gestalt und Botschaft (BEThL 68), Leuven 1985, 357–362. VEEN, P. G. VAN DER, The Final Phase of Iron Age II in Judah, Ammon, and Edom: A Study of Provenanced Official Seals and Bullae as Chronological Markers (AOAT 415), Münster 2014. WEINFELD, M., Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, Oxford 1972. WEIPPERT, M. et al., Historisches Textbuch zum Alten Testament, Göttingen 2010. WÜRTHWEIN, E., Die Bücher der Könige: 1. Kön. 17–2. Kön. 25, Göttingen 1984. YOUNGER, K. L., “The Fall of Samaria in Light of Recent Research”, CBQ 61 (1999) 461–482. ZERTAL, A., “The Province of Samaria (Assyrian Samerina) in the Late Iron Age (Iron Age III)”, in: M. Oeming / O. Lipschits (eds.), Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, Winona Lake 2005, 377–412.

The Siege of Jerusalem between Rhetorical Maximalism (Deuteronomy 28) and Narrative Minimalism (2 Kings 25) Jean-Pierre Sonnet Why is the description of Jerusalem’s siege and fall in 2 Kgs 25 so reticent? Why is the evocation of the darkest days of biblical Israel so dry and laconic? City sieges can be dramatized in the book of Kings, as in the case of 2 Kgs 6:24–33, which tells of the siege of Samaria by Ben Hadad of Aram, with expressive details and vivid dialogue, in a scene that dramatizes anthropophagy – more precisely, maternal anthropophagy – as the ultimate expression of famine in a siege. Nothing similar is found in 2 Kgs 25, where the narrator refrains from elaborating scenes and dialogues worthy of the name, and limits himself to the reporting of facts. The narrator of Kings is, furthermore, perfectly capable of elaborating theologically the ins and outs of a catastrophe such as the fall of a capital city. So he does in 2 Kgs 17, after the fall of Samaria, in a 17-verse peroration. Nothing similar appears at the end of Kings. In chapter 24 we have, instead, two anticipatory comments. In the first one (vv. 2–4), the narrator takes up again, beyond the parenthesis of Josiah’s reform, the thread of God’s verdict on Jerusalem and Judah, “to destroy it, according to the word of YHWH that he spoke by his servants the prophets” (v. 2). God will do so because of “the sins of Manasseh” (v. 3; cf. 2 Kgs 21:11–15), and he will do so inescapably: “YHWH was not willing to pardon” (v. 4; cf. the second part of Huldah’s oracle in 2 Kgs 22:16–17). The second comment by the narrator, a single verse, is read at the very end of chapter 24: “For because of the anger of YHWH this happened in Jerusalem and Judah, that he finally cast them out from his presence” (v. 20). The two statements provide readers with a compass, meant to guide them in the succeeding episodes – a much-needed compass, actually, since what follows is a complex interplay of human causality, a power play between kings, generals, high and low court officials, and conspirators. Divine causality has left the scene, as if the narrator had switched modality from divine agency to human.1 1

The notion of “dual causality” will undergird the present research. It refers to the technique used in biblical narrative to alternate between the foregrounding of divine and of human causality (and to do so regularly about the same chain of events). Isac L. Seeligman coined the expression “doppelte Kausalität”, inspired by related views in the writings of G. von Rad and Y. Kaufmann; see SEELIGMAN, “Menschliches Heldentum”. Building on the

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And where the reader would most expect a theological comment, that is, after the fall and the chain of dramatic events that followed in Judah and Babylon, the narrator abstains from any theological elaboration that would provide the reader with authorized interpretative keys. When the book of Kings reaches its end, biblical historiography seems to turn theologically mute; history is left opaque.2 In 2 Kgs 25, the last “word”, far from belonging to God, belongs to the king of Babylon, who offers special treatment to the king of Judah, Jehoiachin, in a benevolent initiative about which the narrator, however, refrains from commenting. “Striking is the lack of theological editorializing such as that interpreting the fall of the North in 2 Kings 17”, Robert Cohn comments, adding: “After all of the prophetic warnings and reminders of those warnings, the fall of Judah is reported in a factual style without any stress on Yhwh’s judgement, vengeance, or justice”.3 The reticence of the narrator of Kings is apparently too much for the Chronicler. In his parallel account in 2 Chr 36:11–21, the Chronicler provides the fall of Jerusalem with an authorized theological interpretation in the style of 2 Kgs 17. He enrols the prophet Jeremiah in the process (v. 12), reports the fulfilment of Jeremiah’s oracle about the seventy years, and carries on with Cyrus’ proclamation. In other words, the Chronicler makes clear that history, even at its nadir, is still led by God, who “stirred up the spirit” of Cyrus (v. 22): restoration is in view. Nothing similar occurs in the ending of Kings, where God’s word seems to follow the narrator’s voice in a kind of fading out, leaving history without driving force and without authorized comment. How are we to make sense of such a reticent and frustrating ending? The answer may lie in the intended correlation of this ending with another text – Deuteronomy. This is the hypothesis I will explore. In this exploration, I will not address redactional issues, but the narrative and pragmatic dimensions of the extant texts – the relation they build with the reader. In so doing, I will make the most of a recent article by Dominik Markl, “No Future without Moses: The Disastrous End of 2 Kings 22–25 and the Chance of the Moab Covenant (Deuteronomy 29–30)”.4 The discovery of Moses’ Torah book in 2 Kgs 22 and the “unsatisfying end” 5 of 2 Kgs 24–25, Markl writes, prompt the reader of work of her predecessors, Yairah Amit was the first to refer to a “principle”, operating in biblical (his)story-telling; see AMIT, “Dual Causality Principle”, and idem, “Dual Causality: An Additional Aspect”. “The dual causality principle”, Amit writes, “is expressed on the one hand by the different proportions of representation which are assigned in it to God and man … and on the other hand by hierarchical determination in the relation of God and man” (AMIT, “Dual Causality Principle”, 391). 2 This is all the more remarkable since all the books of the Enneateuch end on a theological note (by the narrator or by one of the characters), with two exceptions: the book of Judges, where God’s design is put in check, and the book of Kings – the ending of Israel’s first history. 3 COHN, 2 Kings, 170. 4 MARKL, “No Future”. 5 MARKL, “No Future”, 725.

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Kings to reread Deut 29–30, “the only text in which Moses refers to the return to the promised land”.6 Markl’s article mainly focuses on the role of Deut 29–30, and particularly on 30:1–10, as triggering a hope of restoration; I will focus on the curses of Deut 28, which detail the horrors of besiegement, as curses can do. The coupling of the books – Kings and Deuteronomy – I intend to show, is first realized at the lowest point of history, in the curses and in the report of the fall of Jerusalem in 2 Kgs 25, and so prepares the reader for the prospect of restoration presented by Moses in Deut 30:1–10.

1. Josiah and Huldah: Hearing the Book from Its End The linking of the last days of Jerusalem with the curses of Deut 28 is, in the first place, an event that takes place in the narrated history, an act of interpretation by two characters, Josiah and Huldah, in the narrative of 2 Kgs 22. In their respective speeches, they correlate the fate of “this place” (‫ )המקום הזה‬with the words of “this book” (‫)הספר הזה‬. As can be seen in chart 1 (p.76), Josiah is the one who brands the found book as “this book”, whereas Huldah’s oracle correlates the “book that the king of Judah has read” with “this place”. King Solomon, in his prayer in 1 Kings 8, has been the first one to use the phrase ‫ המקום הזה‬in a reference to Jerusalem and to the temple (vv. 29, 30, 35). What was in Deuteronomy “the place that YHWH will choose”, or “that place” (‫( )המקום ההוא‬Deut 17:10), is now, in Solomon’s prayer, “this place”, in a momentous designation. Yet the process of deictic particularization goes one step further in 2 Kgs 22: “this place” finds its authorized “legend”, present and future, in “this book”. Deictics are particularly decisive in Josiah’s statement: “for great is the wrath of YHWH that is kindled against us, because our ancestors did not listen to the words of this book, to do according to all that is written concerning us” (v. 13) – and he will be confirmed by Huldah in this “deictic” reading.7 We are at a point where everything crystallizes, precipitates, in an act of identification and self-involvement marked out by deictics (“this book”, “us”, “our” and “this place”). While correlating “this place” and “this book”, both Josiah and Huldah focus on the threats the book articulates against the place. God’s first sentence in the oracle is most significant: “I will indeed bring disaster on this place [‫ ]אל־המקום הזה‬and on its inhabitants – all the words of the book that the king of Judah has read [‫( ”]הספר אשר קרא מלך יהודה‬v. 16). How are we to construe this reference to “the book”? In their respective statements, Josiah and Huldah actually give a hint to the reader. In the declarations of the king and of the prophetess a reference to Deut 28 is indeed perceptible. 6

MARKL, “No Future”, 711. The deictic identification is confirmed by God himself in 2 Kgs 23:27: “I will remove Judah also out of my sight, as I have removed Israel; and I will reject this city that I have chosen, Jerusalem, and the house of which I said, my name shall be there”. 7

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this book (‫)הספר הזה‬

this place (‫)המקום הזה‬

2 Kgs 22:13 (Josiah)

2 Kgs 22:15–20 (Huldah)

13 “Go, inquire of YHWH for me, for the people, and for all Judah, concerning the words of this book that has been found [‫הספר‬ ‫ ;]הנמצא הזה‬for great is the wrath of YHWH that is kindled against us, because our fathers did not obey the words of this book [‫]הספר הזה‬, to do according to all that is written concerning us”.

15 “Thus says YHWH, the God of Israel: Tell the man who sent you to me, 16 Thus says YHWH, I will indeed bring disaster on this place [‫ ]אל־המקום הזה‬and on its inhabitants – all the words of the book that the king of Judah has read [‫הספר אשר‬ ‫]קרא מלך יהודה‬. 17 Because they have abandoned me and have made offerings to other gods, so that they have provoked me to anger with all the work of their hands, therefore my wrath will be kindled against this place [‫]במקום הזה‬, and it will not be quenched. 18 But as to the king of Judah, who sent you to inquire of YHWH, thus shall you say to him, Thus says YHWH, the God of Israel: Regarding the words that you have heard, 19 because your heart was penitent, and you humbled yourself before YHWH, when you heard how I spoke against this place [‫]על־המקום הזה‬, and against its inhabitants, that they should become a desolation and a curse, and because you have torn your clothes and wept before me, I also have heard you, says YHWH. 20 Therefore, I will gather you to your ancestors, and you shall be gathered to your grave in peace; your eyes shall not see all the disaster that I will bring on this place (‫”)על־המקום הזה‬.

Chart 1

Josiah’s first reaction to the reading of the book found in the temple is a silent gesture (“When the king heard the words of the book of the law, he tore his clothes” [v. 11]), which expresses deep despondency8 or mourning.9 The “words of the book”, one can surmise, included an awesome prospect – as Josiah himself elaborates when he sends a delegation to consult God: Go, inquire of YHWH for me, for the people, and for all Judah, concerning the words of this book that has been found; for great is the wrath of YHWH that is kindled against us, because our fathers did not listen to the words of this book, to do according to all that is written concerning us (v. 13). 8 9

Cf. Gen 44:13; 1 Sam 4:12; 2 Sam 15:32. Cf. Gen 37:34; Lev 10:6; 21:10; 2 Sam 13:31; Job 1:20; Esth 4:1.

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Deut 28 15 “But if you will not listen [‫והיה אם־לא‬ ‫ ]תשמע‬to YHWH your God by diligently observing all his commandments and decrees, which I am commanding you today, then all these curses shall come upon you and overtake you ….”. 45 “All these curses shall come upon you, pursuing and overtaking you until you are destroyed, because you did not listened = will have not listened [‫ ]כי־לא שמעת‬to YHWH your God, by observing the commandments and the decrees that he commanded you.

77

2 Kgs 22:13 (Josiah)

“ … the wrath of YHWH that is kindled against us, because our fathers did not listen [‫ ]לא־שמעו אבתינו‬to the words of this book, to do according to all that is written concerning us ….”

58 If you do not diligently observe all the words of this Torah that are written in this book ….” Chart 2

“Our fathers did not listen [‫”]לא־שמעו אבתינו‬: in speaking this way, Josiah may echo many calls to listen made in Deuteronomy – they are not lacking. Yet, Josiah may echo a particular one (see chart 2), in the opening of the curses in Deut 28: “If you will not listen [‫ ]והיה אם־לא תשמע‬to YHWH your God by diligently observing all his commandments and decrees, which I am commanding you today, then all these curses shall come upon you and overtake you” (Deut 28:15). Moreover Josiah’s use of qatal (‫)לא־שמעו אבתינו‬, “our fathers did not listen”, may echo the use of qatal in Deut 28:45, which states: “All these curses shall come upon you, pursuing and overtaking you until you are destroyed, because you did not listen [‫ ]כי־לא שמעת‬to YHWH your God, by observing the commandments and the decrees that he commanded you”. In the actual curse, qatal typically serves as an anterior future or future perfect (“because you will have not listened”),10 preserving the futuribility of the curse. Yet it is tempting to infer that Josiah, in his interpretative act, construed the verb as a past, referring to a fact: they did not listen, and this brings about the 10

I owe these observations to Alexander Andrason (University of Stellenbosch). My construing of Deut 28:45 thus contrasts with Jeffrey Tigay’s, for whom the verse “is not a conditional sentence but an unconditional one” (TIGAY, Deuteronomy, 492) or with Richard Nelson’s, who writes, “Now transgression and punishment are no longer possibilities, but sound like foregone conclusions” (NELSON, Deuteronomy, 332). Hans Ulrich Steymans sees likewise in the verse an “Urteilsspruch Gottes im Munde des Mose” and posits for it an origin distinct from the conditional sentences of the context (STEYMANS, Deuteronomium 28, 32; cf. 226–227).

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fulfilment of the curses.11 In short, as Delbert Hillers sums up, “The horrified reaction of King Josiah to the reading of the newly discovered ‘book of the law’ (2 Kgs 22:11) was caused by the curses attached to it”.12 To the men sent by the king, Huldah announces that Jerusalem and its inhabitants will become “a desolation and a curse [‫( ”]לשמה ולקללה‬2 Kgs 22:19). As can be seen in Chart 3, “desolation” echoes the curse in Deut 28:37: “you shall be a desolation [‫]לשמה‬, a proverb, and a byword”, while “a curse” may be a comprehensive echo to the sequence of curses in Deut 28. The sequence opens in v. 15: “But if you will not listen to YHWH your God … then all these curses [‫ ]כל־הקללות האלה‬shall come upon you and overtake you”.13 Deut 28

2 Kgs 22 (Huldah’s oracle)

15 But if you will not obey YHWH your God by diligently observing all his commandments and decrees, which I am commanding you today, then all these curses [ ‫כל־הקללות‬ ‫ ]האלה‬shall come upon you and overtake you.

16 Thus says YHWH, I will indeed bring disaster [‫ ]רעה‬on this place and on its inhabitants – all the words of the book that the king of Judah has read [ ‫הספר‬ ‫]אשר קרא מלך יהודה‬.

37 … you shall be a desolation [‫]לשמה‬, a proverb, and a byword …

19 … a desolation and a curse [‫לשמה‬ ‫… ]ולקללה‬

61 Every other malady and affliction, even though not recorded in the book of this Torah [‫]בספר התורה הזאת‬, YHWH will inflict on you until you are destroyed. Chart 3

Both Josiah and Huldah are thus referring to the book by viewing it – or, better, by hearing it – from its end, that is, from the curses.14 Listening to Huldah’s 11

A similar construing would presumably be elaborated by the exilic or postexilic reader, interpreting the verbal form as a reference to the past (the fathers “did not listen”) in what was actually, in Moses’ speech, a future prospect. 12 HILLERS, Treaty-Curses, 85, is referring to MENDENHALL, “Covenant Forms”, 73–74. See also TIGAY, Deuteronomy, 261: the desired effect of the curses of Deut 28 “is shown by the reaction of King Josiah, who tore his clothes in grief when he heard them, as related in 2 Kings 22:11, 19”. 13 See MARKL, “No Future”, 720. 14 In the case of Josiah, this amounts to an interesting staging of the so-called “recency effect”. In psychology of perception, the recency effect describes how people tend to begin recall with the end of a list, remembering those items best, all the more so when the ending of the sequence is rhetorically loaded (as in the case of the curses); see LUCHINS, “PrimacyRecency”. It is interesting to observe that the curses in Deut 28 are twice associated with the

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words one can be even more precise: the book is heard through the threats it formulates against a city.15 In Huldah’s oracle, God twice associates the threats with “this place and its inhabitants [‫( ”]אל־המקום הזה ועל־ישביו‬v. 16, cf. 19): what is threatened is the social entity of a city, the population within its walls. This stress in the oracle refers us once more to the curses of Deut 28 which, in their crescendo, precisely project the perspective of a city under siege. The section containing the curses in question (Deut 28:47–57) amounts to the narrative of a military campaign by a “grim-faced nation [‫( ”]עז פנים‬v. 50) that will devastate the land before laying siege to the cities: It shall besiege you in all your gates [‫ ]בכל־שעריך‬until your high and fortified walls, in which you trusted, come down throughout your land; it shall besiege you in all your gates throughout the land [‫ ]בכל־שעריך בכל־ארצך‬that YHWH your God has given you (v. 52; cf. vv. 55 and 57).

“Gates” serves here as a metonymy for “city”, as it does regularly in Deuteronomy.16 What calls for attention is the use of the plural: “in all your gates”, means “in all your cities”. The curse refers to a plurality of cities threatened by the enemy’s sweeping invasion. Generality is actually a conventional feature of curses: they address a multiplicity of situations, and in this, as Stanley Gevirtz notes, they parallel the generality of the law.17 In Huldah’s oracle, however, generality gives way to particularity. Whereas the curse tells about “all your cities”, the oracle focuses on “this place and its inhabitants”. In other words, God, in the oracle, has commuted the general curse into a particular indictment.18 Huldah’s oracle thus confirms what Josiah had gathered in his listening to the words of the book: the words in question are the vehicle of a sentence formulated “against us” (2 Kgs 22:13). The curses have assumed the concrete and ineluctable character of a prophecy of doom. Uttered in their generality by Moses (the prophet), activated as a particular indictment by Huldah (the prophetess), the curses have thus installed a time bomb in the narrated world. Torah book (in 28:58: “all the words of this Torah written in this book”; and in 28:61: “Even every sickness and every plague not written in the book of this Torah”). The curse section thus presents itself as a constitutive part of the Torah book, that is, of “this book”. This emphasis somehow anticipates the reception of “this book” by Josiah in 2 Kgs 22: what has been read is a Torah (i.e., prescriptive) book, but one which culminates in its final curses. 15 The narrative context suggests that Huldah, who has not read the book like Shaphan (2 Kgs 22:8) or listened to it like King Josiah (v. 11), “must be presumed to know the book through her prophetic gifts” (ALTER, Ancient Israel, 835). 16 See Deut 5:14; 12:12, 15, 17, 21; 14:21; etc. 17 GEVIRTZ, “West-Semitic Curses”, 140. 18 Far from being magic, the curses of Deut 28 imply God’s agency in their working; see in particular v. 20: “YHWH will send upon you disaster, panic, and frustration in everything you attempt to do…” (see also vv. 21, 22, 24, 25, 27, 28, 35, 36, 48, 59, 61, 63, 64, 65, 68). A propos of the blessings and the curses of Deut 28, Tigay writes: “Even where that is not obvious, the overall context of the chapter makes it clear that all that is promised and threatened is the result of God’s action” (TIGAY, Deuteronomy, 493).

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2. Siege Curses: The Missing Scenes What is achieved by Josiah and Huldah in the world of the characters triggers and authorizes an analogous operation in the world of the reader. No less than Josiah and Huldah, the reader of Kings is in a position to correlate the fate of Jerusalem with the curses – curses uttered by Moses in the old days and now divinely converted into a sentence, as announced by Huldah. With the curses in mind, the reader can probe the contingencies told in the last chapter of Kings. The awareness of the curses actually makes possible a thicker reading of the ending of Kings. So it is in the case of the only existential aspect of the siege reported in the narration of Kings, the famine. Starvation is mentioned in a brief report: “On the ninth day of the fourth month the famine [‫]רעב‬ became so severe in the city that there was no food for the people of the land” (2 Kgs 25:3) to the point that a sortie was attempted.19 For anyone who has the curses of Deut 28 in mind, such a famine is a curse come true: the extremes of famine are the climax of the curses related to the siege of the city (in Deut 28:53–57). In his report, however, the narrator of Kings refrains from elaborating the situation, as if the revelation of the horrors of famine was someone else’s responsibility – the prophet’s responsibility, or even God’s responsibility, as the agent of the enactment of the curses. The narrator of Kings recounts the little he tells perhaps out of decency, out of pudeur in front of what amounted to an unspeakable story. Yet anyone who knows the curses of Deut 28 can be horrified – just as Josiah has been – because the curses in question foretell reactions of infanticide and cannibalism among the starving population. The motif of cannibalism of one’s offspring belongs to the topoi about famine in Ancient Near Eastern sources.20 The motif, Israel Eph’al writes, is “widespread in the omen literature, in political treaties and in various kinds of literary works”.21 The political treaties include Esarhaddon’s succession treaty, which contains a number of variations on the theme.22 The literary works include the annals of Ashurbanipal, the son of Esarhaddon.23 Anthropophagy of one’s offspring is, in particular, a distinctive literary motif in sources relating to siege. The Hebrew 19

See the analogous sequence – anthropophagy of the besieged population and attempted sortie – in Ashurbanipal’s chronicles (Rassam Cylinder), ANET, 298. 20 It reflects, Israel Eph’al writes, “the serious psychological effects of hunger to the point of loss of humanity” (EPH’AL, City Besieged, 61). 21 EPH’AL, City Besieged, 61. 22 See EST §§ 47, 69, 71, 75 (ANET, 538–540; cf. SAA II 6); see also the treaty between Ashurnirari V of Assyria and Mati’lu of Arpad (ANET, 533). 23 “Famine broke out among them and they ate the flesh of their children against their hunger. Ashur, Shin, Shamash, Abad, Bel, Nebo, the Ishtar of Nineveh – the Queen of Kidmuri – the Ishtar of Arbela, Ninurta, Nergal [and] Nusku [thus] inflicted quickly upon them [all] the curses written [down] in their sworn agreements” (Ashurbanipal’s Annals [ANET, 300]).

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Bible makes a repeated use of the theme, in various rhetorical contexts,24 yet the version in Deut 28 stands out, Delbert Hillers writes, “unsurpassed with shocking details”.25 In Deut 28 the motif is carefully inserted into the dynamic of the chapter as a kind of red thread. As can be seen in chart 4, the prospect of “eating the fruit of your womb” is actually the reversal of the benediction “Blessed shall be the fruit of your womb” formulated at the opening of chap. 28 (v. 4, and repeated in v. 11). The blessing, however, is susceptible of being turned into a curse. The process of this reversal is detailed through vv. 47–57: whereas the enemy will be eating from the fruits of the livestock and from the fruit of the land (v. 51), the people under siege will be reduced to eating their own children. “You will eat the fruit of your womb, the flesh of your own sons and daughters whom YHWH your God has given you, in the desperate straits to which the enemy siege reduces you” (v. 53). Deut 28:4

Deut 28:11

Deut 28:18

Deut 28:53

Blessed shall be the fruit of your womb

YHWH will make you abound in prosperity, in the fruit of your womb, in the fruit of your livestock, and in the fruit of your ground in the land that YHWH swore to your ancestors to give you.

Cursed shall be the fruit of your womb

You will eat the fruit of your womb, the flesh of your own sons and daughters whom YHWH your God has given you in the desperate straits to which the enemy siege reduces you.

Chart 4

As Simone Paganini points out, the most horrendous “is not what the enemy will do to the people, but what the members of the people will do to themselves”.26 Moreover, Richard Nelson adds, “it is not brutal people who do this, but the sensitive and pampered”.27 Even a woman accustomed to walking on carpets will indulge in such practice, and will do so “in secret” (‫ )בסתר‬lest she have to share.28 These scenes represent the utter collapse, the total negation of the Deuteronomic 24

See BOSMAN, “Function”, 152–165. The theme of anthropophagy of one’s offspring in the context of siege is present in various biblical texts, the most explicit being 2 Kgs 6:24–33; Jer 19:9; Lam 2:20 and 4:10. 25 HILLERS, Treaty-Curses, 63. 26 PAGANINI, Deuteronomio, 389 (my translation). 27 NELSON, Deuteronomy, 332. 28 NELSON, Deuteronomy, 332.

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society of solidarity, a society that hinges entirely on the transmission of life and Torah to the following generations.29 The curses in question not only present the most gruesome human and social situation, but also reveal what takes place in the minds and the eyes of the people under siege. The horror is presented once from the point of view of the father (vv. 53–55) and once from that of the mother (vv. 56–57), disclosing the inner thoughts, the “evil eye” of the parents in the crime committed ‫בסתר‬, “in secret”. The exposing of unspeakable thoughts is a recurrent trope in Deuteronomy, in keeping with its critique of secret schemes that undermine the Deuteronomic society.30 The dreadful scenes of Deut 28 enable the reader of Kings to dramatize what is left undramatized in 2 Kgs 25: they drive the reader within the walls and within the minds of the starving population. What Josiah did anticipatively – hearing the curses as a prophecy of doom against Jerusalem – the reader of Kings can do retrospectively, reading the curses as a prophecy come true. This is precisely what the author of the book of Lamentations did. Revisiting the trauma of the siege with the grim images of the Deuteronomic curses, he contemplated the curses as having been enacted.31 In particular, Lamentations twice evokes the famine during the siege (‫ רעב‬in 2:19 and 5:10) by referring to the scene of maternal anthropophagy (2:20 and 4:10). The author of Lamentations has thus conflated the curses and the narrative, achieving what the reader of Kings is in a position to do.

3. Reinstating God’s agency in the Narrative of 2 Kings 25 The curses of Deut 28 have another heuristic virtue regarding the disaster. They are hinting in several ways at the deconstruction of Israel’s sacred history. The promise to Abraham of numerous descendants is reversed in Deut 28:62: “Although once you were as numerous as the stars in heaven, you shall be left few in number, because you did not listen to YHWH”.32 The election of Israel 29

The Israelite difference would so be negated. In Deut 12:31 the warning against idolatry culminates in the branding of child sacrifice by surrounding nations: “They would even burn their sons and their daughters in the fire to their gods”. 30 See Deut 13:7; 15:9; 27:15, 24; 29:18–19. 31 See HILLERS, Lamentations, 84: “The writer may have seen in the fate of Jerusalem the fulfillment of a threat, or curse, associated with the covenant with God. This same insight finds indirect expression elsewhere in the book: cf. 4:3–4, 10; 5:18, and possibly 1:8; 2:16; 3:10–11; 4:6; 5:14–15. Deut 28 and Lev 26, both of which come at the end of lists of obligations imposed by the covenant of God, are the clearest biblical examples of the association of curses with covenant”. See in particular Lam 2:17: “YHWH has done what he purposed [‫]זמם‬, he has carried out his word [‫ ;]אמרתו‬as he ordained long ago, he has demolished without pity”. See also BERLIN, Lamentations, 21. 32 See Gen 15:5; 22:17; 26:4; Exod 32:13, etc.; in Deuteronomy, see 1:10; 10:22 and 26:5.

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among the nations undergoes an analogous reversal. The blessing in Deut 28:9–10 had extolled the election of Israel: “YHWH will establish you as his holy people [‫… ]לעם קדוש‬. All the peoples of the earth [‫ ]כל־עמי הארץ‬shall see that you are called by the name of YHWH, and they shall be afraid of you”; the curse, however, is detailed some verses further on: “You shall become a desolation, a proverb, and a byword among all the peoples [‫( ”]בכל העמים‬v. 37). The deconstruction of Israel’s history concerns the exodus as well. The curses are associated with a regression to Egypt: “YHWH will afflict you with the boils of Egypt” (v. 27); “He will bring back upon you all the diseases of Egypt” (v. 60); and even “YHWH will bring you back sorrowing to Egypt by that very road of which I said to you, “You shall not see that road again” (v. 68).33 The blessings and the curses are thus grafted on to the foundational history of the people: when God acts, he either builds up or breaks down this history (the patriarchs, the exodus).34 The report in 2 Kgs 25 is far from having such a historical and theological depth. It tells, in plain language, of pragmatic, political and strategic moves, without resorting to the language of sacred history. One of these moves, after the assassination of Gedaliah, is a return to Egypt (25:26): “Then all the people, high and low, and the captains of the forces set out and went to Egypt; for they were afraid of the Chaldeans”. What, in the report of Kings, looks like an emergency measure gets another dimension when it is read against the background of the curses. In their prophetic authority, the curses remind the reader that God is the one who brings back to Egypt: “YHWH will bring you back sorrowing to Egypt” (v. 68). Beyond the power games of kings and generals, factions and conspirators, God is still the master of history – even if it is in a deconstructive mode. Reading the report of 2 Kgs 25 with the curses in mind is actually to grant the narration something it has progressively omitted: God’s agency in history.35 So it is for the exile of the king. Whereas 2 Kgs 25 reports “They captured the king [Zedekiah] and brought him up to the king of Babylon at Riblah, who passed sentence on him …. They bound him in fetters and took him to Babylon” 33

The MT reads ‫ ָבּ ֳאנִ יּוֹת‬, usually translated as “by ships”; yet some modern commentators and translations have construed the noun as an abstract plural of ‫ ֲאנִ יָּ ה‬, “sorrowing” (cf. Isa 29:2 and Lam 2:5). This interpretation requires revocalizing the MT into ‫( ַבּ ֳאנִ יּוֹת‬see R. Y. T. MECKLENBURG in his Torah commentary HaKetav VehaKabbalah; REB; NEB; TIGAY, Deuteronomy, 397, n. 104). 34 About the exodus paradigm in Deut 28, see also v. 46: “[All these curses] shall serve as signs and proofs against you and your offspring for all time”. As Tigay observes, “‘Signs and proofs’ … are the terms used for the ten plagues (4:34; 6:22; 34:11). Their befalling Israel is another example of the reversal of Israel’s fate: because of its sin, Israel will be treated as Egypt was” (TIGAY, Deuteronomy, 268). See also REIMER, “Return to Egypt”, 217–229. 35 God’s agency is equally explicit in the curse that mentions blindness. Whereas in 2 Kgs 25:7 the king is blinded (‫ )עור‬by the Chaldeans, the curse in Deut 28:28 announces, “YHWH will afflict you with … blindness [‫”]ובעורון‬.

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(vv. 6–7), the curse has announced “YHWH will bring you, and the king whom you set over you, to a nation that neither you nor your ancestors have known” (Deut 28:36). Projected on the terse chronicle, the curse reinstates God’s agency where it remained unspecified. The perception of God’s agency in the disaster is critical for the perception of his agency beyond the disaster. If God is able to deconstruct history, he is also able to reconstruct it.36 This is precisely what the Deuteronomic Moses announces in Deut 30:1–10, in the speech that follows the uttering of the curses: there will be a return.37

4. Conclusion: Books in Counterpoint Since the finding of the Torah book in 2 Kgs 22, Kings is a book that engages a dialogue with another book – Deuteronomy. As Dominik Markl aptly observes, “the metatextual references and intertextual allusions in 2 Kings 22–23 and the subsequent unsatisfying end of 2 Kings 24–25 together are seen as implicitly urging readers to reread Deuteronomy”.38 The link with Deuteronomy is created in the first place by the narrated drama – the finding of the Torah book and its reading by Josiah. The reader of Kings is, however, expected to emulate the king. Just as Josiah has been able to decipher the fate of Jerusalem by relating it to the curses of the Torah book, the reader in question is called to make sense of the ending of Kings by means of Deuteronomy – through the curses in Deut 28 and through the prospect of return in Deut 29–30. The momentous act of reading by Josiah thus offers a dramatized mise en abyme of the interpretative operations involved in the reading of Kings, particularly in the coupling of Kings and Deuteronomy.39 It is important to remember that an analogous coupling of books, already involving Deuteronomy, has taken place at the opening of the First Prophets. In his injunctions to Joshua, God has made this clear statement: “This Torah book shall not depart out of your mouth; you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to act in accordance with all that is written in it” (Josh 1:8). In his relationship to Deuteronomy, Joshua is therefore “a sort of prototypical Josiah”,40 who thoroughly conformed to the Torah book found in the temple. Symmetrically, at the close of the First Prophets historiography, Josiah emerges as Joshua’s typological counterpoint in his role of reader of the 36

See the elaboration of the theme in Jeremiah (Jer 16:15; 23:8; 32:37). See MARKL, “No Future”, 722–724. 38 MARKL, “No Future”, 725. 39 The French term mise en abyme derives from heraldry and literally means “placed into abyss”. In literature and art theory, mise en abyme refers to the phenomenon in which an image (or a work) contains a smaller copy of itself, in a sequence that can appear to recur infinitely. As pointed out by Lucien Dällenbach, the mise en abyme can specifically focus on the production or the reception of the embedding work (DÄLLENBACH, Récit, 100–122). 40 NELSON, “Josiah”, 537. See also CONRAD, “Heard”; SONNET, “Livre”, 857. 37

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Deuteronomic Torah book. The embedded scenes prompt an analogous linkage with Deuteronomy in the reader’s mind. At key junctures, the Deuteronomy– Kings sequence thus induces determining operations of cross-reference and parallel reading.41 It is interesting to note that the linking of Kings and Deuteronomy emerges in 2 Kgs 22 when another book-to-book counterpoint is about to be brought to an end.42 The book of Kings makes repeated reference to the Book of the Annals of the Kings of Judah, which is mentioned fifteen times (with a last mention in 2 Kgs 24:5 regarding Jehoiakim), and it equally refers to the symmetrical Book of the Annals of the Kings of Israel (eighteen mentions, the last one in 15:31, regarding Pekah).43 This running reference stops, for obvious reason, with the fall of the two royal cities. The narration reaches a point where royal historiography has become totally irrelevant (if it had any relevance before) and has to leave the scene. In the case of Samaria, the shift is ensured by the narrator’s speech in 2 Kgs 17:7–23: “This happened because the sons of Israel … ”. In the case of Jerusalem, it is a book that takes over and speaks with prophetic authority: Moses’ Torah book and, for us, the readers, the book of Deuteronomy. This book is the only one that is not measured by the disaster but measures it: it embeds divine causality both at the nadir of history (in the curses of Deut 28 about the siege) and in the prospect of return and restoration (in Deut 30). At the demise of royal historiography, the Deuteronomic Torah book is what provides the fall of Jerusalem with its authorized written legend. In that sense, the fall of Jerusalem indeed means the rise of the Torah.

41 Cross reading (from biblical book to biblical book) is involved in the opening of the book of Psalms that refers to the meditating reading of the Torah (Ps 1:2) or in Daniel’s reading of Jeremiah (Dan 9:2). 42 I thank Dominik Markl, to whom I owe this observation. 43 See also the reference to the more specific “book of the chronicles of Solomon” (1 Kgs 11:41). “The writers of the Books of Kings”, Alan Millard observes, “expected their work to be read and their readers to be aware of other books, perhaps, even, to be able to gain access to them” (MILLARD, “Books and Writing”, 155). Interestingly enough, the author next refers to “the book of the chronicles of the kings of Israel” or “of the kings of Judah”, as well as to the “book of the law” of 2 Kgs 22–23.

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Literature ALTER, R., Ancient Israel: The Former Prophets: Joshua, Judges, Samuel, and Kings. A Translation with Commentary, New York 2013. AMIT, Y., “The Dual Causality Principle and Its Effects on Biblical Literature”, VT 37 (1987) 385–400. —, “Dual Causality: An Additional Aspect”, in: eadem, Praise of Editing in the Hebrew Bible: Collected Essays in Retrospect (HBM 39), Sheffield 2012, 105–121. BERLIN, A., Lamentations: A Commentary (OTL), Westminster 2003. BOSMAN, H., “The Function of (Maternal) Cannibalism in the Book of Lamentations (2:20 and 4:10)”, Scriptura 110 (2012) 152–165. COHN, R. L., 2 Kings (Berit Olam: Studies in Hebrew Narrative and Poetry), Collegeville 2000. CONRAD, E. W., “Heard but not Seen: The Representation of ‘Books’ in the Old Testament”, JSOT 54 (1992) 45–59. DÄLLENBACH, L., Le récit spéculaire. Essai sur la mise en abyme, Paris 1977. EPH‘AL, I., The City Besieged: Siege and Its Manifestations in the Ancient Near East (Culture and History of the Ancient Near East 36), Leiden 2009. GEVIRTZ, S., “West-Semitic Curses and the Problem of the Origins of Hebrew Law”, VT 11 (1961) 137–158. HILLERS, D. R., Treaty-Curses and the Old Testament Prophets (BibOr 16), Rome 1964. —, Lamentations (AB 7A), 2nd edn, New York 1992. LUCHINS, A. S., “Primacy-Recency in Impression Formation”, in: C. I. Hovland (ed.), The Order of Presentation and Persuasion, vol. 1, New Haven 1957, 33–61. MARKL, D., “No Future without Moses: The Disastrous End of 2 Kings 22–25 and the Chance of the Moab Covenant (Deuteronomy 29–30)”, JBL 133 (2014) 711–728. MECKLENBURG, Y. T., HaKetav VehaKabbalah, Brooklyn, NY 2001. MENDENHALL, G. E., “Covenant Forms in Israelite Tradition”, BA 17 (1954) 50–76. MILLARD, A. R., “Books and Writing in Kings”, in: A. Lemaire et al. (eds.), The Books of Kings (VT.S 129), Leiden 2010, 155–160. NELSON, R.D., “Josiah in the Book of Joshua”, JBL 100 (1981) 531–540. —, Deuteronomy. A Commentary (OTL), Louisville / London 2002. PAGANINI, S., Deuteronomio. Nuova versione, introduzione e commento (I Libri Biblici. Primo Testamento 5), Milano 2011. REIMER, D. J., “Concerning Return to Egypt: Deuteronomy xvii 16 and xxviii 68 Reconsidered”, in: J. A. Emerton (ed.), Studies in the Pentateuch (VT.S 41), Leiden 1990, 217–229. SEELIGMAN, I. L., “Menschliches Heldentum und göttliche Hilfe: Die doppelte Kausalität im alttestamentlichen Geschichtsdenken”, TZ 19 (1963) 385–411. SONNET, J.-P., “‘Le livre trouvé’: 2 Rois 22 dans sa finalité narrative”, NRTh 116 (1994) 836–861. STEYMANS, H. U., Deuteronomium 28 und die adê zur Thronfolgeregelung Asarhaddons: Segen und Fluch im Alten Orient und in Israel (OBO 145), Göttingen / Freiburg 1995. TIGAY, J. H., Deuteronomy (JPS Torah Commentary), Philadelphia 1996.

II. The Rise of the Torah: Exemplary Texts and Issues

Living in the Land of Shinar Reflections on Exile in Genesis 11:1–9? Angelika Berlejung 1. Introduction: Co-text and Text The tower of Babel story is already, from the setting of the narrative, a very good starting point for the idea that biblical texts reflect exilic experiences. After the creation and the flood, it is the third biblical story within the Urgeschichte, or primeval narrative, with clear references to Mesopotamia. The difference with the Babel story is that it places the events explicitly in Babel, the capital of Babylonia. This is also one of the places that surely housed an exilic community in the neo-Babylonian period and later.1 The present paper seeks to clarify how far Gen 11:1–9 reflects a neo-Assyrian or neo-Babylonian background, whatever that might be. The fact that the neo-Assyrian and neo-Babylonian empires succeeded in integrating some typical motifs and traditions into the collective memory of the Ancient Near East, including the Old Testament,2 however, remains an important caveat. It limits the pertinence of using any parallel motifs or shared traditions for the dating of the biblical text. Neo-Assyrian and neo-Babylonian royal ideology and imperial theology survived the empires themselves. And – as we will see – collective memory, as far as we read it in the Old Testament, often adopted their motifs and traditions, if only as clichés or in inverted or characteristically modified forms. 1.1 Structure of the Closer Co-text The text unit Gen 11:1–9 can clearly be distinguished from the surrounding context: before, in chapter 10, we read over the toledot of Noah’s sons, Shem, Ham and Japheth. This after-the-flood toledot in Gen 10 refers to a reduced and “rebooted” mankind. The toledot in Gen 10 is, at the same time, the toledot before the Babel story. Thus in fact, on the synchronic level, the people who settled in Shinar3 and built the city and tower of Babel are the (already diversified) people of Gen 10. 1

BERLEJUNG, “Geschichte”, 156–157. See e.g. BERLEJUNG, “Erinnerungen”. 3 Shinar is only attested here and in Gen 10:10 and 14:1.9, Josh 7:21, Isa 11:11 and Zech 5:11, Dan 1:2; it always refers to Babylonia. 2

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After the Babel narrative in Gen 11:1–9, in v. 10 the toledot of Shem starts. Genesis 11:10–324 focuses on Terach and provides the reader with information about the rise of Abram and Sarai, Nahor and Milka, and Haran / Lot, and about their exodus from Ur in Chaldea via Harran. Thus the basics for the subsequent patriarchal narrative are given and, with the mention of Sarai’s infertility, suspense and the motivation for further reading are created. In a synchronic reading, Terach and his two sons and grandson (without Haran, who dies in Ur, being replaced by his son Lot) are the very first men who follow YHWH’s injunction of Gen 11:9 to scatter or spread over the face of the earth. They spread at first to Harran (where Terach dies) and then continue their journey to Canaan. 1.2 Translation ‫ויהי כל־הארץ שפה אחת‬ ‫ודברים אחדים‬ ‫ויהי בנסעם מקדם‬ ‫וימצאו בקעה בארץ שנער‬ ‫וישבו שם‬ ‫ויאמרו איש אל־רעהו‬ ‫הבה נלבנה לבנים‬ ‫ונשרפה לשרפה‬ ‫ותהי להם הלבנה לאבן‬ ‫והחמר היה להם לחמר‬ ‫ויאמרו‬ ‫הבה נבנה־לנו עיר ומגדל‬ ‫וראשו בשמים‬ ‫ונעשה־לנו שם‬ ‫פן־נפוץ על־פני‬ ‫כל־הארץ‬ ‫וירד יהוה לראת‬ ‫את־העיר ואת־המגדל‬ ‫אשר בנו בני האדם‬ ‫ויאמר יהוה‬ ‫הן עם אחד‬ ‫ושפה אחת לכלם‬ ‫וזה החלם לעשות‬

1 And then the whole earth was of one lip, and of one matters / plannings.5 2 And it came to pass, as they journeyed from the east, and then they found a plain in the land of Shinar; and then they dwelt there. 3 And they said, one to his fellow, “Come, let us make bricks [figura etymologica], and let us burn to burning [figura etymologica] [= let us burn thoroughly].” And then served the brick for them as stone, and the tar served for them as mortar. 4 And then they said, “Come, let us build for us a city and a tower, and its top [may reach] into the heaven; and let us make for us a name, lest we scatter / spread [‫ פוץ‬qal] upon the faces of the whole earth.” 5 And then YHWH came down to see the city and the tower, which the children of the man6 had built. 6 And then YHWH said: “Behold, one people is it, and one lip they all have; and this they begin7 to do:

4 Gen 11:10–26 can be understood with SCHUELE, Prolog, 376–377, as the logical continuation of Gen 10; therefore it can be attributed to P. With HIEKE, Genealogien, 108 it can be observed that the two Shem-lists stress different aspects: Gen 11:10ff. chooses one descent-line from the Shem-group and bridges to the patriarchs. 5 Even, if the usual translation as “words, vocabulary” is still possible (so e.g. SCHUELE, Prolog, 379, 391–392), the root ‫ דבר‬can also mean “to push forward”, thus stressing the aspect of projecting and planning. 6 This seems to be an allusion to Gen 6:2, with GERTZ, “Babel”, 25–26. 7 ‫ חלל‬hiph.: the root connects v. 6 with Gen 6:1 and 10:8.

Living in the Land of Shinar

‫ועתה לא־יבצר מהם‬ ‫כל אשר יזמו לעשות‬ ‫הבה נרדה‬ ‫ונבלה שם שפתם‬ ‫אשר לא ישמעו‬ ‫איש שפת רעהו‬ ‫ויפץ יהוה אתם‬ ‫משם על־פני כל־הארץ‬ ‫ויחדלו לבנת העיר‬ ‫על־כן קרא שמה בבל‬ ‫כי־שם בלל יהוה‬ ‫שפת כל־הארץ‬ ‫ומשם הפיצם יהוה‬ ‫על־פני כל־הארץ‬

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and now nothing will be impossible8 for them, everything what they have planned [‫ זמם‬qal] to do. 7 “Come, let us go down, and let us there mix [‫ בלל‬qal] their lip, that they may not hear / understand each man the lip / utterance of his fellow.” 8 And then YHWH scattered / spread [‫ פוץ‬hiph.] them from there upon the faces of the whole earth: and then they ceased to build the city. 9 Therefore was its name called Babel; because there YHWH had mixed [‫ בלל‬qal] the lip of the whole earth: and from there YHWH had scattered [‫ פוץ‬hiph.] them over the faces of the whole earth.

1.3 The Structure of the Text It has already been observed that the text is very skilfully structured.9 There are several inclusios forming a framing device. This is especially true for v. 1 incl. 2b and v. 9ab, which provide the reader with an introductory exposition and a final comment; for the reference to “one lip” in v. 1 and v. 6; for the human fellowship in v. 3a and v. 7b; for the parallel structure of the speeches in v. 3f and v. 7 (‫ ;)הבה‬for v. 4 and v. 8 with their nearly parallel formulas (“scattering upon the faces of the whole earth”); and for v. 7 and v. 9 with references to the root ‫בלל‬. The writer shows that he knows more than the reader does from the very beginning, commenting on the building activities in v. 3b. He bridges his narrative from v. 1 to v. 9 with the inclusio and shapes the verses in between by using a small number of repeated key words. Therefore the structure is as follows: 1 Exposition and introduction of the primordial situation 2–4 “They” 2 The people are acting and arriving in Shinar 3–4 The people are speaking: “come” (twice); 3b building commentary 5–8a YHWH 5 YHWH is acting 6–7 YHWH is speaking (v. 7 “come”) 8a YHWH is acting 8b “They” are stopping their activities 9 Comment and aetiology of the actual situation 8 ‫ בצר‬niph.: Within the book of Genesis the root is only attested here. The use of the same root in Jer 51:53 seems significant, where it refers to Babel’s attempt to fortify its height and strength. 9 For a list of the different cross-references within the text see WENHAM, Genesis, 234– 236; WITTE, Urgeschichte, 95–97; GERTZ, “Babel”, 18.

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2. First Observations on the Text and Exegetical Commentary The starting point of the text is the description of the primordial unity in speaking and planning: v. 1 introduces the key words “one” and “lip”. The following verses refer to the people acting in unison. In v. 2 they start a journey from the East,10 travel and find a plain where they settle together. Then, after settling down in Shinar, in vv. 3–4 they speak (and their speeches are very well structured),11 plan and act together – now with a joint and concrete project. It should be noted that there is a clear correspondence between what they utter and plan, and how they act. Planning and speaking form a unit, as do speaking / planning and doing. The people show a strong focus on their own interests: v. 4 uses the expression “for us” twice – the city with the tower and the “name” are clearly built and made “for us”. Nothing has been made for YHWH or for any other god; human activities are limited to purely secular and human interests. Without announcement or invitation, YHWH enters the scene in v. 5, descending (this is not said but assumed) from heaven in order to see the city and its tower. The divine reaction is given in the two verses, 6 and 7, which include YHWH’s utterances. In v. 6 YHWH’s speech refers back to v. 1 (with the key words “one” and “lip”) and gives a short diagnosis (one people, one lip, the joint start on the building project) and prognosis (any planned project will succeed) on human activities. In v. 6 the reason for YHWH’s intended confusion of the “one lip” in v. 7 is given. In v. 7 God plans his action as saboteur. With a short soliloquy in the first person plural (recalling Gen 2–3, Gen 6:5–7, Gen 18:20–21 and even Exod 3:7–8),12 God exhorts himself to descend and to confuse the “lip” of the people, in order to destroy their ideal, unanimous, primordial inter-human communication. The divine speech in v. 7 forms a parallel with the people’s speech in vv. 3–4. 10

Maybe this is a reference to Gen 4:16, Cain’s settling in the East of Eden, in the country named Nod. A reference to Gen 2:8, 3:24 is also possible. For a list of crossreferences which link Gen 11:1–9 with the primeval narrative see GERTZ, “Babel”, 25–26. 11 UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 359–360 and WITTE, Urgeschichte, 93.96 have already argued that the accumulation of stylistic devices in the people’s speeches is the concrete implementation of the primordial speech’s inherent unity. For a detailed analysis of the stylistic devices within the whole story, Gen 11:1–9, see FOKKELMAN, Narrative Art, 12–45. 12 The connection between the latter two texts has also been observed by LEVIN, Jahwist, 128–129 (however classifying Gen 11:6*, 8a and Gen 18:20–21 as Yahwistic redaction, and Gen 11:7 as post-Yahwistic additions). The word ‫ ירד‬with YHWH as subject and first person plural is only attested in Gen 11:7; ‫ ירד‬in the first person singular with YHWH as subject is also very rare: besides Gen 18:21 (in order to investigate Sodom and Gomorrah), it is only attested in Exod 3:8 (to save Israel) and in Num 11:17 (to support Moses). Compare further Isa 34:5, “my sword”. More common is ‫ ירד‬with YHWH as subject in the third person masculine singular: e.g. Exod 19:11, 18, 20; 33:9; 34:5; Num 11:25; 12:5; Judg 5:13; 2 Sam 22:10 (= Ps 18:10); Isa 31:4; Mic 1:3. Ps 144:5 and Neh 9:13 (second masc. sing.), Prov 30:4 (rhetorical question with the implied answer YHWH). Less relevant is Ps 72:6 (the king / messiah).

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YHWH reacts to the well-structured speaking and planning of the people: v. 7a starts with ‫הבה‬, “come”, and continues with two cohortatives of the first person plural – just as vv. 3a and 4a do. But YHWH’s words, plans and actions in vv. 7–8 run counter to the words, plans and actions of the people in vv. 3–4; v. 8 and v. 9 are connected by the key word ‫פוץ‬, “to scatter” (hiph.), with YHWH as subject; this key word connects and counterpoints the end of the story with its beginning in v. 4 (qal, with the people as subject). Human planning and divine actions are at odds with one another. The same is valid for the key word “name” that connects v. 4 and v. 9: the “making of a name” which was part of the human planning in v. 4 is actualised in an unexpected and negative way by the “name” of Babel in v. 9. The unity of the text has been debated and the following main points have been made,13 which lead to the hypothesis that at least two different stories (about city building and tower building – depending on the basic hypothetical assumption of sources, documents and / or layers) have been intertwined in our text: 1. The fact that the people stop the construction of the city, while the tower is not mentioned (v. 8). 2. In v. 4 two different motivations for the building projects (making a name for themselves, not being scattered) are given, as well as two different divine punishments in v. 7 (“mixing the lip”) and v. 8 (scattering). This has been seen as the trace of two independent stories that have been combined by the writer. Usually the scattering is considered as the later addition.14 3. The doubling of YHWH’s descent from heaven in v. 5 and v. 7 has been seen as a signal that different sources and documents, and / or redactional layers (depending on the basic Pentateuchal theory), have been combined. It has been proposed that v. 7 is a later addition15 which had been composed to contrast with the speeches of the people in vv. 3–4. The additional verse would have been inserted in order to stress the focus of the story on the aetiology of Babel’s name by the link to the root ‫בלל‬.16 If this is correct, then – without v. 7 – 13

All the three points that follow have already been mentioned by GUNKEL, Genesis, 92–97, and ZIMMERLI, 1. Mose, 211. But Zimmerli finally concludes: “Die Stimmen sind im heutigen Wortlaut so eng ineinander verschlungen, dass es schwer ist, das Verbundene zu lösen”. For the principal observations on the text and alternative explanations, see SCHUELE, Prolog, 386–389 (incoherences are in the pre-literary stage, not in the text), GERTZ, “Babel”, 19–24. 14 E.g. UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 305–343, 572–573 (vv. 4b, 8a, 9b as glosses). WITTE, Urgeschichte, 90–93 argues that the original Babel-building-name-making story (vv. 2*, 4a, 5*, 8*, 9aα, characterized as an anti-neo-Babylonian, “ätiologisch ausgerichtete Spotterzählung”), got a later post-Priestly redaction with vv. 1, 2*, 3, 4b, 5b(?), 6–7, 8a, b(?), 9aβ, b. For a critical discussion and convincing arguments to maintain the scattering (vv. 4b, 8a, 9b) as part of the original text see GERTZ, “Babel”, 22–23. Contrasting with these views, LEVIN, Jahwist, 129–130, takes the confusion of the lip etiology for Babel as a later – in his system – post-Yahwistic addition; for a similar analysis see KRATZ, Komposition, 258–259. 15 KRATZ, Komposition, 258–259, treats as post-Yahwistic additions vv. 1, 6, 7, 8b–9; he concludes, at least for these additions, that their post-P dating is “nicht unwahrscheinlich”. 16 That v. 9a, the etiology of the name Babel, is secondary is, for example, part of the arguments of UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 311–312. For counter-arguments see GERTZ, “Babel”, 23–24.

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the original action of YHWH against the people would have been their scattering into the four corners of the world and not the sabotage of their single “lip”.

In my view it is impossible, and even unnecessary, to eliminate any verse, or verse part, from Gen 11:1–9. The structure of the text and the cross-references within it are strong arguments for its coherence. The same is valid for v. 7, which belongs to the original text. This verse mirrors v. 3 and v. 4 and bridges to v. 9. And v. 7 is closely related to v. 6 (and v. 1): the single “lip” of the primordially united people is the point of departure for YHWH’s sabotage in v. 7 and v. 8. The confusion of the lip leads to unintelligible utterances. And because structured speech, planning and doing belong together in Gen 11:1–9, human planning and activities became obsolete. YHWH’s mixing up of human utterances not only destroys the word order, but also the plans they reflect and their results. Verbal order, planning in unison and acting in unison belong together in the text and contrast with verbal disorder, scattering and the end of united planning and building. In sum, Gen 11:1–9 is a textual unit and a linguistic work of art.17 This unit is closely linked to its closer context within the primeval narrative (e.g. Gen 2:8, 10–14; 3:22; 6:1–4, 5–7; 9:19; 10, thus non-P but also P texts),18 the patriarchal narrative (Gen 18:21!) and beyond (Exod).19 One of the few consensuses of biblical scholarship is that Gen 11:1–9 does not belong to the Priestly source / document. In older scholarship the text has been seen as the end of the Yahwistic primeval narrative (G. von Rad,20 W. Zimmerli),21 and therefore non- and pre-Priestly, and coming from the monarchic period. Recent research maintains the idea that Gen 11:1–9 does not form part of the Priestly source / document, and (still) belongs to the end of the nonPriestly primeval narrative (D. Carr, E. Blum),22 however its extent and the 17 FOKKELMAN, Narrative Art, 12, 45 and GERTZ, “Babel”, 24 also come to this conclusion (the only redactional addition is in v. 4aβ). 18 For links between Gen 11:1–9 and the primeval story (non-P and P texts) see ARNETH, Adams Fall, 221–226; SCHUELE, Prolog, 394–405; GERTZ, “Babel”, 25–28. 19 For links between Gen 11:1–9 and Exod see SCHUELE, Prolog, 407–410. 20 VON RAD, 1. Buch Mose, 116. 21 ZIMMERLI, 1. Mose, 232. 22 CARR, Reading, 248, treats Gen 11:1–9 as the end of the originally independent nonPriestly Urgeschichte. Carr’s main evidence is the literary references between Gen 2:8a and 10–14 (Gen 11:2), 3:22 (Gen 11:6), 6:1–4 and 11:1–9. BLUM, Urgeschichte, 437, 440 is also traditional in viewing Gen 11 as the end of the primeval narrative. Blum stresses the relation between the paradise and tower stories, which form an inclusio around the central flood story (Gen 6:1–4 is regarded as a later addition, 443) and proposes a dating of Gen 11:1–9 during the years of Esarhaddon’s engagement for Etemenanki (op. cit., 441 and with reference to Uehlinger). For Gen 3:22 as later redactional addition, see WITTE, Urgeschichte, 85–87; GERTZ, “Babel”, 25. For a concise criticism of Gen 11:1–9 as the end of the originally independent, non-Priestly primeval story see GERTZ, “Babel”, 13–16, 26–28. Gertz is right that Gen 11:9 cannot be a plausible ending for the primeval story – Gen 9 makes more sense (and has Mesopotamian counterparts).

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date are now debated.23 The problem is also linked to the problem of the end of the non-Priestly primeval narrative (for some in Gen 11; for some with the flood story in Gen 9). But if (according to C. Baumgart, M. Witte and J. C. Gertz)24 the non-Priestly primeval narrative ended with the flood story, then Gen 10 and Gen 11 belong to bridges that have been written in order to connect the primeval story with the patriarchal narrative.25 In Gen 10 and 11 the primordial unity is changed into diversity. On the literary level this diversity is the bridge from the primeval narrative into Gen 11:10ff. and into the patriarchal narrative. If Gen 11:1–9 has been created by a redactor as a link between the primeval and the patriarchal narratives, and as a reinterpretation of Gen 10, then Gen 11:1–9 has to be postponed into the post-Priestly era, and therefore into the postexilic / Persian period.26

3. Genesis 11:1–9 and Mesopotamian Backgrounds? It has already been pointed out by earlier scholarship that the author of Gen 11:1–9 knew a lot about biblical traditions, for example the non-Priestly and the Priestly primeval stories, the patriarchal narrative, the book of Exodus, Jer 51:53–54, and Job 42:1–2.27 Other observations can be made about the narrative of Gen 11:1–9 which seem to suggest that its author also had some clear ideas about the city of Babylon and Babylonian traditions.28 Let’s summarize: 3.1 Geography The author of Gen 11:1–9 knew the archaizing name of Shinar29 or Shanhara for Babylonia as well as the name of the city of Babel, and their location in the 23 A recent report of the actual scholarly debate is given in ARNETH, Adams Fall, 12–20 (arguing that non-P = post-P); GERTZ, “Formation”, 110–113; BÜHRER, Anfang, 13–16. 24 BAUMGART, Umkehr, 17ff., 417–418; WITTE, Urgeschichte, 184–205 (end in 8:22*); GERTZ, “Babel”, 15–16; GERTZ, “Formation”, 131–132. 25 With BAUMGART, Umkehr, 26–28; BERGES, Vielfalt, 248; SCHUELE, Prolog, 420; GERTZ, “Babel”, 26; GERTZ, “Formation”, 132. For Gen 11:1–9* as an etiological and ironical Babel-building narrative which was added only during the final redaction of the primeval narrative see WITTE, Urgeschichte, 189–192. 26 The reference in Gen 11:6 to Job 42:1–2, and the “people” taking part in royal building activities in Gen 11:1–9 (see below) also support this dating. However the dating in the years of Alexander the Great that has been proposed by WITTE, Urgeschichte, 320–323, and accepted by ARNETH, Adams Fall, 226, remains possible. 27 For the latter see WITTE, Urgeschichte, 94; SCHUELE, Prolog, 397; GERTZ, “Babel”, 30. 28 It has to be acknowledged that the authors of the non-Priestly primeval story, Gen 2–9, already knew a lot about Babylonian literary motifs and traditions: the connection between the creation and the flood is familiar (Atra-hasis, Gilgamesh), as are reflections about the origin of human sin within the discourse of creation (Babylonian theodicy). See e.g. BAUMGART, Umkehr, 419–495; CARR, Reading, 241–248; GERTZ, “Noah”, 506–522. 29 For the origin of the name Shinar from Shanhara, see UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 561–562.

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East. With its reference to the setting of Babel within a flat plain, v. 2 seems to be more specific. This more or less reflects some basic geographical knowledge. 3.2 Brick-production and Building Techniques It has already been noted in the majority of the commentaries (and mentioned by Herodotus I, 49 [460 BCE]), that construction using burnt, baked or fired bricks and asphalt is a typically Babylonian (and not Assyrian) technique.30 It is not one that was used or known in Palestine.31 Bricks in Palestine and Syria were only sun-dried, thus called adobe. These were cheaper and easier to handle. Temples, houses and palaces in Babylonia were mainly made out of sundried adobe, too. Only some parts of larger buildings and installations were built from burnt bricks – especially canals, water pipes, bathrooms, toilets and courtyards. In Babylon itself, the outer shell of Etemenanki, the Ishtar Gate and the royal castle (“Southern Citadel”), with its vaulted (storage) building, were made of burnt or baked bricks. Bitumen or asphalt was used for sealing brick paving and water installations. But bitumen was also used as a mortar in the building of brick walls. The processional way of Babylon was covered with asphalt.32 Building with burnt bricks and asphalt was not an everyday construction technique in Babylonia. Therefore it is interesting that the author of Gen 11:3 referred to this particular technique,33 which was reserved for official and high-ranking, prestigious and royal buildings, and had an inherent claim to prestige (for the builder), as well as durability, stability, longevity and ... for eternity. With this choice of building materials, the biblical author not only added local colour to his story, but also the dimension of prestige and permanence. The desire to build for prestige – and for all eternity – is affirmed as being integral to the primordial people, and thus to the human condition. 3.3 A Tower Reaching the Sky It should be noted that (neo-Assyrian and) neo-Babylonian royal inscriptions of the first millennium BCE usually refer to the heights of buildings in the following manner: a palace, a temple, or a city wall is described as being as high as the mountains (šadâniš, hurs / šāniš, kīma KUR-i, kīma šadîm).34 Only 30

See ZIMMERLI, 1. Mose, 214–215; UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 360–372 (very detailed). GALLING, “Ziegel”, 364. 32 For Etemenanki see SCHMID, Etemenanki. I want to thank Prof. P. Miglus of Heidelberg for his helpful remarks about Babylonian building techniques. 33 It cannot be proved that this implies that the author of these verses had seen Babylonian buildings, but it cannot be ruled out either (see UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 368–369). However, any dating of v. 3 to the time of Nebuchadnezzar II cannot be proved (pace UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 371–372). This building technique was also used (before and) after Nebuchadnezzar II, and was still in use and visible until the Hellenistic period. 34 DA RIVA, Inscriptions, 4.2.1 C21 1 II 24 (Neriglissar, Esagil inscription, Babylon); LANGDON, Königsinschriften, Nebukadnezar no. 1 I 32 and II 21 (city wall), III 37 (temple). Nebukadnezar no. 4 I 22 and II 1, no. 5 I 19, no. 9 II 9 (see also I 50), no. 13 II 5.24.34 (city 31

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temples and ziggurats can be described as being as high as the heavens, reaching or rivalling the heavens (šamāmi/š).35 This is especially true for Esarhaddon (Esharra of Assur in Assur),36 Nabopolassar (Etemenanki) 37 and Nebuchadnezzar II (Etemenanki, Esagila and Ezida),38 while Nabonidus is more modest: his ziggurats and temples only reach the mountains.39 References to buildings reaching up to the sky include cosmological language and the vertical axis mundi, in some texts even mentioned explicitly when the foundations of the building are said to be grounded in the netherworld, or apsû, at the same time. Applying this observation to Gen 11:4 and the tower top reaching the sky implies that ‫ מגדל‬refers to a temple tower. The translation as a citadel or fortification suggested by A. Schuele or C. Uehlinger40 can thus be excluded. The temple tower with its head in the sky has a clear connection to a Babylonian ziggurat.41 The model for this tower is not necessarily concretely Etemenanki, because temple towers are also known from other Babylonian cities. But since the setting of Gen 11 is the city of Babylon, Etemenanki would make sense.42 To set Gen 11:1–9 in the Persian period, we have to take into account that wall), no. 14 II 15 and III 23 (palace), II 34.48 and III 7 (wall), no. 15 IV 13 (akītu-house), VI 34 and VIII 51 and IX 27 (wall), VIII 2.63 (palace), no. 19 B V 21.58 (wall), B VI 56 (wall), B VIII 59 and no. 36:5; no. 46:8 (palace), no. 20 I 63.69; II 16 (wall), no. 21 II 5.8.26; no. 28:5; no. 32:4 (wall). 35 The only exception seems to be the wall Imgur-Enlil in Babylon, which is said to “rival the heaven”, see DA RIVA, Inscriptions, 2.2.7 C32 II 6–12 (Nabopolassar, Imgur-Enlil inscription, Babylon). However Imgur-Enlil is described in this exceptional text as having some major cultic features and containing outdoor sanctuaries – it seems in this text to be some kind of composite of wall and temple. 36 RINAP 4, Esarhaddon no. 57 V 35 and VI 21. 37 DA RIVA, Inscriptions, 2.2.6 C31 1 I 33–34 and par. (Etemenanki-cylinders, Babylon). However in the same context the ziggurat can also be (only) as high as a mountain, see 2.2.6 C31 1 III 27 (Etemenanki-cylinders, Babylon; kīma SA.TU.IM). 38 LANGDON, Königsinschriften, Nebukadnezar No. 17 II 7–11 (Etemenanki); no. 20 III 44 (Esagila and Ezida). 39 SCHAUDIG, Inschriften, 2.11 1 III 18–19 and par. (Larsa-cylinder, building of Ebabbar and the ziggurat Eduranna in Larsa for Shamash and Aya); 2.9 1 II 1 (Ebabbar-cylinder, building of Ebabbar in Sippar for Shamash); referring to a wall: 2.5 1 II 2. 40 SCHUELE, Prolog, 411–412; UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 372–380. 41 UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 236–242, 379, argues that “as high as (or: reach / rival) the heaven” is only a “hyperbolische Ausdrucksweise”. His claim that there are textual attestations of secular buildings (not only temples and ziggurats, as argued above) being described as “reaching the heaven”, can surely be contradicted in relation to the building inscriptions of the first millennium BCE. Uehlinger only lists three attestations, the wall of Urad-Sin, from the second millennium, a hymn to Arbail from the neo-Assyrian period, and the damaged neoAssyrian tablet K6205+, with reference to a city. It is methodologically problematic to use texts from different millennia and of different genres side by side. Neo-Babylonian (and neo-Assyrian) building inscriptions have some very typical, time- and context-specific characteristics which have to be treated attentively and separately. 42 Also accepted by ZIMMERLI, 1. Mose, 222–225; GERTZ, “Babel”, 29.

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Etemenanki laid in ruins.43 The biblical author interprets the ruins of the impressive ziggurat as the remains of an unfinished tower, even if it was in fact a decayed tower that had lost its importance. Genesis 11:1–9 is therefore also, in a way, the etiology for an impressive ruined tower in the centre of Babylon. Again, the author of Gen 11:1–9 refers to a Babylonian setting, resources and real facts (a ruined Etemenanki) to express his theological message. For this, see below. 3.4 Name-Making and Building With respect to Ancient Near Eastern inscriptions in general, royal namemaking / -setting / -getting has two main aspects, and they are both connected to the discourse about royal legitimacy.44 The first of these is the “meritocratic aspect”: here the good or everlasting royal name is the result of royal successes and great deeds. The second is the “ascriptive aspect”: the good or everlasting royal name is the gift of a god or of several gods. Neo-Babylonian royal building inscriptions in fact connect these aspects: the royal report about the finished and successful building starts45 and / or ends with a royal prayer referring to the gift or calling of an everlasting or favourable name and divine blessing. This combination of reporting success (the meritocratic aspect) and positive name-making indicates that the making of a good royal name only works with divine support (the ascriptive aspect). The building as well as the good name of the builder are only possible through royal–divine cooperation. A building and the builder’s name are seen as signs of durability and the prolongation of human life.46 The references to royal names within building inscriptions are also a means of bridging time: neo-Babylonian kings refer to earlier builders or inscriptions of theirs that have been found during renovation works. The current royal builder stresses his special merits in reporting his building activity – especially in comparison to the previous builder or the poor / unfinished state of the building – and expresses the hope that future kings (preferably of the same dynasty) will take care of the building and his own building inscription in the future.47 Past, present and future are interconnected. 43

Etemenanki had been renovated by Nabopolassar, and finished by his son Nebuchadnezzar II. After their building activities, no more construction works are known. After a gap in the sources scholars usually refer to Herodotus and Strabo: see HELLER, Babylonien, 126–127. 44 For the terminology used, see BEETHAM, Legitimation, 3–41, esp. 77. 45 E.g. LANGDON, Königsinschriften, Nebukadnezar No. 12 I 23–24; DA RIVA, Inscriptions, 2.2.2 C12/1 31–41 (Nabopolassar, é.PA.GÌN.ti.la inscription, temple of Ninurta in Babylon; address to future kings which implies that Marduk calls the royal name for eternity), SCHAUDIG, Inschriften, 2.1 II 23–25 (Imgur-Ellil-cylinder referring to the wall in Babylon). 46 RADNER, Macht, esp. 203–234; GERTZ, “Babel”, 31 n. 105, makes the point that the name-making in Gen 11:1–9 continues the tradition of Gen 3:22 and 6:1–4 on the subject of human mortality. 47 E.g. DA RIVA, Inscriptions, 2.2.2 C12 (Nabopolassar); SCHAUDIG, Inschriften, 2.12 (Ehulhul-cylinder referring to different temple buildings), 2.13 (Ebabbar-cylinder, Ebabbar

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The basic idea that buildings and the blessed name of the builder are always the result of a successful royal–divine cooperation belongs to the collective memory of the Ancient Near East and the Old Testament: the formula ‫ ל‬+ ‫שם‬ + ‫“ = עשה‬to make a name for” is also known from the Old Testament, but – apart from Gen 11 – only with YHWH as subject.48 It is said that I / YHWH make(s) a great name for a person, or – more often – that YHWH makes a great or eternal name for himself. And this is in fact in harmony with the Ancient Near Eastern idea that name-making / setting is always in the hands of the divine. Thus the name-making “for ourselves” in Gen 11:4 is the literary expression of a godless activity (see also 1 Macc 5:55–62). That city-building (and having offspring) and name-making belong together is also affirmed in Sir 40:19 – a Hellenistic text which is critical of the standard connection between building and name-making. Instead Sir stresses that finding wisdom is a better way to durability: “Children and the building of a city establish one’s name, but better than either is the one who finds wisdom”. In this context it becomes clear that v. 4, “we make a name for us / ourselves”, is a travesty that inverts standard building ideologies. A good name can only be bestowed by (a) god. But it is worth mentioning that the expected, traditional result of human building activity – the making of an everlasting name – is nevertheless achieved in Gen 11:9. The people wanted to make a name for themselves. What name, and the character of the name (good or bad) remained open in v. 4. And their wish came true: Babel was the name that was given, and it will not be forgotten. But even if the “name-making” itself was a success, the idea behind the name (as a good name) has been turned upside-down by YHWH. The everlasting name is not a favourable one, because it marks the mixing of the lip and the scattering of the people – the opposite of what the people had intended. The wish of v. 4 and its unexpected result in v. 949 demonstrate, with the everlasting, but bad, name, the author’s sense of humour and irony.50 But the writer’s intention is not only to make a joke out of Babel. With Gen 11:1–9 he expresses his idea that the conditio humana has been changed by YHWH, fundamentally of Shamash in Sippar), 2.14 (cylinder and tablet, copies from stelae, referring to different temple buildings), 2.17 (E’ulmash-cylinder reporting building efforts at the temple of Ishtar of Akkade in Akkade), 2.25a (“Steinmauer-Zylinder”, referring to Ebabbar in Sippar). 48 YHWH making a name for David: 2 Sam 7:9 = 1 Chr 17:8; YHWH making a name for himself: Isa 63:12, 14, Jer 32:20, Dan 9:15, Neh 9:10; for Israel: 2 Sam 7:23 = 1 Chr 17:21 (different formulation, with ‫שים‬, instead of ‫ ;)עשה‬for Abraham: Gen 12:2 (different formulation; ‫ גדל‬pi.). The attestation with David as subject in 2 Sam 8:13–14 is not clear and therefore no real parallel (pace UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 385); if one includes the subsequent v. 14 it represents the traditional view that David’s successes are the result of YHWH’s cooperation. See also BERGES, “Babel”, 51–53. 49 That Gen 11:1–9 operates by a principle of inversion (e.g. in v. 1–2 and v. 9) has also been noted by GERTZ, “Babel”, 17. 50 The ironic tendency had already been pointed out by JACOB, Genesis, 301.

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diminishing humanity’s former abilities. This is what the name Babel represents, from the postexilic periods until today. 3.5 Collective Building As already mentioned above, the building of official buildings, palaces and temples was a royal task and privilege in Egypt and the Ancient Near East including the Old Testament. Some neo-Assyrian and neo-Babylonian royal building inscriptions explicitly included the idea that several people had been involved in the royal building process. Esarhaddon (ekal masharte,51 and Esharra of Assur in Assur),52 Nebuchadnezzar II (Etemanki,53 and his palace building) and Nabonidus (Ehulhul)54 mention the active cooperation of their vassals and / or various social groups in some of their most prestigious building projects. The idea is quite clear: the construction of a single building by different people under one ruler is the expression of their shared identity and solidarity, and the ruler’s authority. The subordinated people and groups perform – while cooperating in the building effort – a symbolic act of consent. They accept the authority and legitimacy of the royal or divine ruler who coordinates the work and owns the building. Intercultural, collective building expresses unity. The building itself becomes a visible sign of this shared identity, and of the subordination to the dominance of the owner or builder of the building itself (temple to god; palace to king). But in the search for parallels there is no need to bring in Esarhaddon, Nebuchadnezzar II or Nabonidus as direct models for Gen 11:1–9. The same concept, that collective building activities express collective consent and subordination under one authority, is also found elsewhere in the Old Testament – especially in texts that refer to the building of the Second Temple. According to Exod 25–31 and 35–40, different social groups – and in Hag 1:14 and Hag 2:2–9 even far distant peoples – come together to build the sanctuary of YHWH, a sign that they accept his universal reign on earth. They do it without being forced by a king; YHWH himself coordinates the work on his sanctuary and cultic equipment (Hag 1:13; 2:4, 7), or transfers this mandate to his representative, who performs the function of a king without being one (Moses in Exod 25–40,55 Zerubbabel and Joshua in Hag 1–2). The concept of 51 RINAP 4, Esarhaddon no. 1 V 40-VI 1, no. 2 IV 32-V 12 and no. 3 IV (ekal masharte in Nineveh); no. 77:40–44 (ekal masharte in Kalhu); no. 78:37–39 (wall, city gates and palaces in Kalhu). 52 RINAP 4, Esarhaddon no. 57 IV 7–26.39–44. 53 LANGDON, Königsinschriften, Nebukadnezar no. 17 II 12 – III 24. See also UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 552–554. The same idea is expressed by Nebukadnezar II’s palace building (UNGER, Babylon, 282–294 = no. 26 Hofkalender). 54 SCHAUDIG, Inschriften, 2.12 11 I (Ehulhul-cylinder). 55 For Exod 25–40 and Moses as mandate-holder and coordinator with a divine mandate see BERLEJUNG, “Handwerker”.

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collective building as sign of collective consent has been released from its inherent royal ideology and transferred to YHWH.56 If we read Gen 11:1–9 against this background, the collective building of the city and of the temple-tower (without any royal or divine coordinator) has to be understood as a symbol of the unified identity of the primordial people. They coordinated the works themselves, without any symbolic act of consent to any kind of authority. But ultimately they experience that the divine authority exists and intervenes. Intermediate Summary Points 2–5 above refer to motifs which are grounded in Ancient Near Eastern building traditions and royal ideology. Those to follow, 6–8, are different. Through references to location (1), building techniques (2) and ziggurat construction (3), some typical local neo-Babylonian themes are included. Points 4 and 5 are general Ancient Near Eastern patterns connected to discourses about royal building, prestige and legitimacy which are also found in the Old Testament. Typical and exclusively neo-Assyrian building patterns and royal ideology cannot be identified.57 However, in Gen 11:1–9 all the neo-Babylonian or more general patterns and motifs about royal building have been transferred to a collective: the primordial people. They work without any royal or divine authority. And they commit all the mistakes that can be made against the “orthodox” royal Ancient Near Eastern building traditions. The fact that in Gen 11:1–9 the “people” do what only kings were allowed to do connects this text with others in the Old Testament that also refer to the people – instead of kings – as builders: Exod 25–31 and 35–40, Hag 1:13–14, Hag 2:2–9, modified by the references to several Persian kings in Ezra 3:8–6:18 (temple building) and Neh 2–4 and 6 :1–7:3 56

A special case is the pro-Persian texts in Ezra 3:1–3 (Joshua and Zerubbabel building the altar), Ezra 3:7 (selected foreigners from Sidon and Tyre delivering material according to Cyrus’ orders), Ezra 3:8–6:18 (temple building) and Neh 2–4 and 6:1–7:3 (wall building), because the human–divine cooperation is augmented by explicit references to the Persian kings who support YHWH’s mandate-bearers (the elders and the prophets Haggai and Zechariah, Cyrus and Darius in Ezra 6:14; various social groups and Judaean settlements, Nehemiah and Artaxerxes in Neh 2–4). However, in the same texts, some individuals and social groups are excluded from the building of the Second Temple (Ezra 4:1–5) or are designated as enemies of the restoration of Jerusalem’s wall (Sanballat, Tobiah, Arabs, Ammonites and Ashdodites in Neh 4:1; 6:1–2), indicating that the authors do not support an inclusive veneration of YHWH by all nations and all social groups. Instead they have a particularistic and exclusive view of Judah’s direct neighbours, while their texts perform a symbolic act of consent and loyalty to the Persian authorities. 57 This result contradicts UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 512. He had argued that the following motifs refer to neo-Assyrian imperial ideology: single speech, building a city and citadel, name-making and the characterization of the builders as “one people”. For the term “one mouth” pû ištēn, which is mentioned in neo-Assyrian texts, see below.

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(wall building). These are all texts which belong to the Second Temple period (a connection which supports the dating given above of Gen 11:1–9 in the postexilic period). In these texts the function of the king as coordinator of the building process has been transferred to legitimate substitutes with a divine mandate: Moses (Exod), Joshua / Zerubbabel (Ezra 3–5; Hag 1:13–14; 2:2–5), Nehemiah (Neh 2:17–18; 3–4; 6:1–7:3, city wall) or to YHWH himself (Neh 6:16, city wall; Hag 2:7–8, Second Temple). They act together with the people, and therefore these collective building enterprises are legitimate, too. 3.6 One Utterance C. Uehlinger had argued that “one people” and, especially, “one speech” refer to the political ideal of one international empire (Weltreich), more concretely the neo-Assyrian and the neo-Babylonian empires.58 However, his detailed survey of Ancient Near Eastern texts shows very well that there is no clear parallel to Gen 11:1–9.59 The problem is already the terminology. As Uehlinger also acknowledges himself, there is no precise Akkadian counterpart to ‫שפה אחת‬. This would have been šaptu ištēt; but the term has not yet been attested. And it remains doubtful if the Sumerian eme aš or Akkadian pû / lišānu ištēn/t are real equivalents. Even if pû ištēn would be the closest term, in Mesopotamian sources from the second to the first millennium BCE,60 the pû ištēn attestations do not share central characteristics with Gen 11:1–9. The main difference is that in Ancient Near Eastern texts “one mouth / language” is evaluated as a positive ideal (e.g. Enmerkar) or a positive goal which has to be reached or imposed (by the neo-Assyrian king on his subordinates).61 In contrast to this Mesopotamian positive connotation, the “single lip” of Gen 11:1–9 is the point of departure, but surely not the ideal that has to be maintained or the aim that has to be reached – because YHWH’s intervention changes it. Therefore I would prefer to argue that “one people” and “one lip / utterance” have to be understood within the biblical context and tradition. Genesis 11:1–9 is not a discussion of imperial (neo-Assyrian or neo-Babylonian) ideology,62 but an anthropological and theological reflection about the reasons for and 58

UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 397–399, 426. This is also true for the parallel that is often drawn between Gen 11:1–9 and the “incantation of Nudimmud” of the Enmerkar-Epos, following UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 409–429. His summary is clear and convincing, showing that in Enmerkar 146, 154–155, “one language = eme aš” is a positive ideal of the primordial order, while “one utterance” in Gen 11:1–9 is not a positive ideal. All that can be said is that unity in language and in utterance is in each case the primordial point of departure. 60 For the references see UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 438–503, which points to close similarities, especially with neo-Assyrian texts. “One mouth / language / lip” does not play any role in neo-Babylonian inscriptions. 61 This difference from neo-Assyrian attestations has also been observed by GERTZ, “Babel”, 21. 62 Contra UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 512–572. 59

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limits of human planning, and the conditio humana at the end of the primeval narrative and the beginning of the patriarchal narrative. It has already been pointed out above that “one lip” – one, well-structured utterance – goes together for the author of Gen 11:1–9 with unanimity, wellstructured planning and well-ordered action. The text refers to the primordial situation as a world of one utterance, one matter / plan, unanimity and acting in unison (travelling, finding the plain, settling down, brick making and firing as start of a united building project, name-making) – all structured and well-planned strategies to prevent their dispersal over the whole earth. One people with one single lip speak, want and do the same (compare also 1 Macc 1:41–42). It is not the language or dialect that is important but the plan behind it.63 Therefore Gen 11:1–9 is not an aetiology of the emergence of the different human idioms, languages64 or dialects,65 but a story about human planning. This argument can be strengthened by the following observations: – The different languages, idioms and dialects, called (plural) ‫לשנת‬, already existed in Gen 10:5, 20, 31. – The verb ‫ בלל‬in the Old Testament and the Ancient Near East refers to a process of mixing and confusing, an activity that destroys the characteristics and order of individual elements by creating disorder. ‫ בלל‬means that a former inherent order has been destroyed. Thus, the result of a “‫ ”בלל‬action with reference to “lip” cannot be the birth of different well-structured languages, but only the emergence of confused, unintelligible utterances, a chaos of words and syllables. This is in fact just the opposite of the clear and carefully styled word order which was used in v. 3–4 to represent the primordial people’s speech.66 – Last, but not least: if we take into account that it is a given characteristic of wisdom that there is a clear correspondence between human lips and hearts (in positive as well as in negative ways),67 and if we compare the very frequent attestation of ‫ שפה‬in the Psalms and Wisdom literature,68 the mention of the “single lip” can be understood in a broader context.

According to the broad attestation of ‫ שפה‬in Wisdom literature, human beings should utter what they plan and plan what they utter in order to be wise and honest. 63

Following UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 349: “ ‘Einstimmigkeit’ im Sinne der geeinten, gemeinschaftlichen Intention”. 64 The early translations, LXX, VetLat, Syr and others already change the singular “lip” to the plural, implying different idioms and languages; see the debate in UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 17, 19, 406ff. The topic of the emergence of different languages on earth seems to appear in Egyptian texts more than Mesopotamian ones. In Egypt the different languages are believed to be the result of a separation and differentiation (by a god) during creation, more in the sense of Gen 10:5, 20, 31. For examples see UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 429–434. 65 UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 348f., 407–409, has convincingly shown that the “one/single lip“ does not refer to languages, idioms and dialects, but to utterance and speech. 66 Similarly SCHUELE, Prolog, 379, 390–392, also argues that human utterances, rather than their languages / idioms had been affected and that the result is a “Sprachverwirrung” (392). 67 Negative examples include Ps 12:3 (smooth lips and double hearted), Prov 24:2; 26:23 (agressive heart and lips); positive ones are Job 33:3, Prov 16:23; 22:11 (pure heart and favourable lips). 68 KEDAR-KOPFSTEIN, “‫”שפה‬, 840–850. For the close connection between “lips” and wisdom see ibid., 840, 845–847.

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Only falsehood breaks this connection when heart and plans, speech and lips differ. In this sapiental context the “single lip” of the primordial people refers to their unanimity and united intentions. Implicitly it is also said that the primordial people shared one single heart. Their mutual interaction was straightforward and free of conflicts. Within this suggested context of wisdom, the primordial people were wise because they were able to plan, to utter and to realize their wishes – at the beginning of Gen 11:1–9 human creativity and wisdom were therefore not far from YHWH’s in Gen 1 and Job 42:1–2. The usage of the root ‫זמם‬, “to plan”, also points in this direction. The verb is only attested thirteen times in the Old Testament:69 six times it refers to YHWH himself, whose speeches, projects and activities are always correlated (Jer 4:28, 51:12; Zech 1:6, 8:14 and 15; Lam 2:17) – he always does what he plans and announces (and vice versa) and, needless to say, he speaks, plans and acts justly. Human planning using ‫ זמם‬is in most cases directed against fellow humans (Deut 19:19; Ps 31:13, 37:12, 140:9 [noun]; Prov 30:32; exceptions are Ps 17:3[?], Prov 31:16 and Gen 11:6).70 In a canonical reading of the Old Testament starting with the book of Genesis, after Gen 11:1–9 human planning with ‫ זמם‬lost its unanimity and unity forever. It became ambiguous, though still showing a close connection between planning, speaking and doing. Incidentally, even if there is no direct literary dependence and the formulation is different, it should be noted that reflections about the rise of human falsehood are also known from Babylonia. In this cultural context these reflections also belong to Wisdom literature. A short quotation from the Babylonian Theodicy may be helpful here, in which human falsehood is a part of creation, and linked to the “crossed / confused speech” (!) given by the gods Enlil, Ea and Mami to mankind. The primordial divine gift of “crossed / confused speech” is directly and explicitly connected to lies, falsehood and wickedness. This problematic provision is in fact a basic anthropological statement:71 276. The king of the pre-eminent (gods), Narru (= Enlil), the creator of the numerou[s] (= people), 277. the noble Zulummaru (= Ea), the one who pinches off th[e]ir clay, 278. the queen who shapes them (= the people), the mistress Mami, 279. gave to mankind crossed / confused speech (itguru dabāba), 280. they bestowed upon them lies and falsehood for all time.

In this context I would like to argue that Gen 11:1–9 is a reflection about the basic relationship between human speaking, planning and doing. A sapiental 69 STEINGRIMSSON, “‫”זמם‬, 599–603. Ps 17:3 is problematic. The derived nouns also have a strong connection to wisdom. 70 Human planning with the nouns ‫ זמם‬and ‫ מזמם‬also, in the majority of cases, has negative connotations; it can refer to wicked human planning against God (e.g. Ps 139:20). See STEINGRIMSSON, “‫”זמם‬, 601–602. 71 For a new edition of this text see OSHIMA, Poems, 164/5 (Friend Strophe XXVI, 276–280). In his commentary (368–370), however, he does not refer to Gen 11:1–9, nor to Enuma Elish VII 39–40, where crossed / confused speech and wickedness are also interconnected.

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background and connections to biblical Wisdom literatures can be identified. The people started out in primordial times just like YHWH (and as YHWH still is), but the primordial clear correspondence between speaking, planning and realization or doing was broken by YHWH himself. God drew a new and clear demarcation line between humanity and himself, but also between one human being and another. The (god-given) end of unity and unanimity in speaking, planning and doing was also the emergence of difference and diversity, including the aspects of individualism, egoism, wickedness and falsehood. The anthropological statement in Gen 11:1–9 explains the limits placed on human wisdom, planning, creativity and united action. This was the very last divine action in the primordial narrative that affected the whole of humanity – and it made possible the differences of the developments (starting with Gen 11:10ff.) that were to come. 3.7 Scattering In summary, Gen 11:4 explains that the people’s speaking, planning and acting (building and name-making) in unison were intended as structured and wellplanned strategies against their being spread (‫ פוץ‬qal) over the whole earth. But YHWH’s intervention in v. 8 caused this spreading (v. 8 and v. 9 ‫ פוץ‬hiph.). Thus human and divine strategies were completely opposed. That YHWH spread or scattered the people over the earth is the consequence and spatial implementation of their mental and communicative disorder, caused by YHWH in v. 7. The search for references in the Ancient Near Eastern literary background to the motif of people scattered, either of themselves or by their (own, main, one or only) god, shows limited success. The scattering of the people (akk. sapāhu) is well attested in Ancient Near Eastern royal ideology and theology: the victorious king or deity scatters his enemies, and – conversely – collects together his own scattered people (this is usually connected to shepherd imagery). This motif belongs to the semantic field of war- and peace-making.72 Against this background we can only conclude that in Gen 11:8–9 YHWH became the enemy of the primordial people.73 This interpretative horizon is also strengthened by the semantic field of the root ‫ פוץ‬within the Bible. ‫ פוץ‬refers to diaspora terminology.74 This root always has clear negative connotations in the Old Testament and refers to exile, diaspora and the consequences of divine punishment. This becomes 72

BERLEJUNG, “Erinnerungen”, 343–344. Contra UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 572–575, who argues against the scattering as a divine punishment. 74 With WITTE, Urgeschichte, 90. The destructive and even creation-inverting character of the root becomes more evident in Isa 24:1; the apocalyptic events start, inter alia, with the scattering of the inhabitants of earth by YHWH (‫ פוץ‬hiph. YHWH is subject). 73

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even more evident if we compare the rise of the differences between Noah’s sons in Gen 10:5, 32 with the post-Priestly Gen 11:1–9. In Gen 10:5 the diversity after the flood was the result of the separation (‫ פרד‬niph. “to separate oneself”) of the isles of the Gentiles into their areas (‫)ארץ‬, according to their languages (‫ )לשון‬and clans (‫ )משפחה‬within their people (‫)גוי‬. The formulation in Gen 10:32, also using the root ‫ פרד‬niph., is similar, but even more generalized, including all the offspring of Noah and stating explicitly that all the peoples on earth emerged after the flood by this process of separation. No “sin” was involved. The separation had no dramatic or inherently negative overtones, since the root ‫ פרד‬is neutral. By contrast, the root ‫פוץ‬, which is used in Gen 11, has clear negative overtones. ‫ פוץ‬is the later inner-biblical and late postexilic interpretation of ‫פרד‬. ‫ פוץ‬inserts the idea of divine wrath and punishment into the emergence of the diversity of the people. But what exactly had to be punished according to Gen 11:1–9? For the majority of scholars the major “sin” that had to be punished was human activity and transgression against God. In the footsteps of G. von Rad,75 modern scholars still repeat the interpretation that Gen 11:1–9 (as part of the Yahwistic or non-Priestly primeval narrative) reflects the human ability and will to cross the boundary of the heavenly sphere and the human wish to be like God (or even “the desire to displace God from heaven”),76 and that Gen 11:1–9 is a story about the hubris of human autonomy, and – after Gen 2–3 and Gen 6:1–4 – the very last attempt by humanity to cross established divine boundaries.77 The human intention of making a name has also been mentioned as a claim on eternity and a human strategy against death – thus a human attempt to bypass Gen 3:22. Fear, rather than haughtiness or hubris, is the human attitude that lies behind Gen 11:1–9 according to B. Jacob. For him, fear and “Herdensinn”78 led to the human wish to stay together in one place instead of settling the whole earth. Therefore, it is argued, the basic fault was human disobedience against YHWH’s explicit order in Gen 1:28 and 9:1.79 YHWH was forced to push his command and will through. C. Uehlinger has already presented and discussed a large number of different interpretations of Gen 11:1–9, starting with the first versions of the text.80 His

75

VON RAD, 1. Buch Mose, 115: “wie die Menschen in ihrem Streben nach Ruhm, Zusammenschluß und eigener Kraftentfaltung sich gegen Gott gestellt haben”. 76 WENHAM, Genesis, 245. 77 WENHAM, Genesis, 242 (“anti-God projects”), similarly BLUM, “Urgeschichte”, 437, 440. WITTE, Urgeschichte, 94, 98, refers to the three primordial transgression narratives and stresses their shared view about the hubris of human autonomy and the human resistance to divine limits. Similarly GERTZ, “Babel”, 29–30, argues that Gen 11:1–9 continues the topics of crossing and establishing boundaries which already appear in Gen 3:22 (R) and Gen 6:1–4 (R). 78 JACOB, Genesis, 301. 79 This is the interpretation of ARNETH, Adams Fall, 226, and SCHUELE, Prolog, 382. 80 UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 9–290 (!).

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criticisms of the reduction of the narrative to “sin”,81 “human alienation from God”,82 “hubris” 83 or “guilt and punishment” 84 are shared by the present author – even though Uehlinger’s interpretation of Gen 11:1–9 as a political, anti-imperial story85 is not followed here. The modified political interpretation presented by U. Berges, according to which Gen 11:1–9 refers to “Kulturkritik” and creates a contrast between Babel and Jerusalem, is likewise unconvincing, since Jerusalem and culture clashes are not mentioned at all, while “the people” act in unanimity.86 Genesis 11:1–9 is more an ironic than a polemical narrative, without any allusions to cultural, cultic, anti-royal or anti-imperial polemics.87 Wenham’s claim that Gen 11:1–9 is “a strong polemic against the mythic theology of the ancient world” 88 cannot be substantiated. Genesis 11 is not polemical at all, but completely dispassionate, without any of the aggressive or emotionalizing language that usually characterizes polemics. Apart from Wenham, all these interpretations of human “sin” in Gen 11:1–9 are indebted to Gen 2–3, Gen 6 and Gen 9. Of course it is possible to read Gen 11:1–9 within this context, but the narrative has its own logic, too. Focusing on Gen 11:1–9 alone, it has to be kept in mind that: 1. The terms “sin”, “guilt” and “punishment” are all absent. 2. There is no preceding explicit divine order that has been contravened by the activities of the people.89 3. The people’s speeches do not contain any attack on God or any desire to separate themselves from God.

Within Gen 11:1–9 there are no anti-God speeches or deeds. On the contrary, the people’s speeches sound completely selfish: they do not consider (a) God at all; they just follow their own intentions. In this context it is worth mentioning that even though divine and human speeches are reported in vv. 3–4 and vv. 81

See SCHUELE, Prolog, 395, which argues against the classification of Gen 11:1–9 as “Sündengeschichte”. 82 UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 279. 83 UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 281–286. Also BERGES, “Vielfalt”, 250–251, mentions “von menschlicher Hybris keine Spur”. 84 For a longer discussion see UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 287–290; BAUMGART, Umkehr, 31–33. 85 UEHLINGER, Weltreich, 514–572 had argued that the basic narrative would react against neo-Assyrian) ideology (especially that of Sargon II), while the later redaction (“Babelrelecture”) would write against neo-Babylonian ideology (especially that of Nebuchadnezzar II). For critical remarks see WITTE, Urgeschichte, 94 n. 71; GERTZ, “Babel”, 21, 29. SCHUELE, Prolog, 411–412, also doubts that Gen 11:1–9 refers to empires, kings or royal oppression; however he still links Gen 11:1–9 to the “Idee des Weltreiches” (415). See also below. 86 BERGES, “Vielfalt”, 252–253. 87 GERTZ, “Babel”, 29–30, observes, correctly, that Gen 11 does not include any cultic connotations. Cult polemic cannot be detected. Allusions to kingship or empires are also lacking. 88 WENHAM, Genesis, 244. 89 See also BERGES, “Babel”, 54–55.

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6–7, YHWH and the people never speak to one other. The speeches run in parallel, indicating that God and the people do not communicate with each other, but always speak to themselves. This is very different from the paradise story (Gen 3:16–17) or the flood story (Gen 9:8), both of which are narratives with Mesopotamian backgrounds, and are basic anthropological reflections. There YHWH and human beings still communicated directly with each other, but in Gen 11:1–9 this is categorically different: the people and YHWH only talk to themselves,90 in soliloquies on two parallel levels that do not intersect. And this is in fact the problem! The reasons for the conflict are diagnosed in v. 6 by YHWH himself, after his statement about the actual status quo (one people / one lip). According to v. 6 the problem is that humankind started to do “this”. And God predicts for the future in v.6b that all their planning (‫ )זמם‬to do things will now succeed (2 × ‫)לעשות‬. What the people start and plan to do has to be stopped. And the fact that YHWH does not destroy the results of human creativity (the city and the tower), but interrupts the common, coordinated, unified human utterances and planning, points to the fact that the conflict was not about the results of human activities, but about the way they had been realized. It was not what the people spoke, planned and did, but how they accomplished these things that was the problem: not even against God, but without considering God at all. 3.8 Call to Leave Babylonia The primordial life in Shinar / Babylonia is designed in Gen 11:1–9 as a harmonious and ideal one. People are all speaking, planning and working together. They share the same intentions. They want to stay in Shinar and build their city for eternity. Everything seems to be possible. Only YHWH disturbs their unity and creates diversity. The divine intervention is made clear: that YHWH does not want all the people living together (only) in Babylonia. In the postexilic period this divine signal and intervention, making the people leave Shinar, can also be read as a biblical propaganda text which tries to encourage the exilic communities to leave their exile in Babylonia and go back to their homelands. Genesis 11:1–9 is therefore also a primordial motivation for the golah, not to stay in Babylonia but to follow the footsteps of Terach (Gen 11:31).

4. Summary and Result Genesis 11:1–9 is a coherent textual unit and a very well-structured narrative by a post-Priestly author who wrote in the Persian period. With his text he bridged the primeval narrative and the patriarchal narrative, explaining the 90

This has already been stressed by BERGES, “Babel”, 43f., 54f.; idem, “Vielfalt”, 249.

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development from primordial unity to actual diversity (inter alia reinterpreting Gen 10 and alluding to another paradigmatic “sin” in Gen 18:21) by inserting a theological and anthropological reflection with a sapiental background about the primeval (structured and ordered) human utterances, plans and activities – about human creativity. Humanity shared its own projects, not in opposition, but in complete obliviousness, to God. Genesis 11:1–9 is the final divine word about the conditio humana. YHWH drew a new and clear demarcation line between humanity and himself, but also between human beings and their neighbours: he reduced the previous and primordial human unanimity and human abilities in a fundamental manner. This was the very last divine action which affected humanity in totality – and it made possible the differences in development among the people after Gen 11:10ff. Even if some Babylonian motifs and traditions have been included in Gen 11:1–9, the text is hardly a direct reaction to neo-Assyrian or neo-Babylonian imperial domination and the building of Dur-Sharrukin or Etemenanki, as C. Uehlinger proposed in 1990. Neither can the modification of this thesis by A. Schuele, that Gen 11:1–9 is a reflection on the human tendency to form empires in general,91 be maintained: empires or kings do not play any role in the text. Instead it is argued that the text is a kind of travesty of “traditional” building patterns, from a distance, with some freestyle motif combinations (which have in this form no clear Mesopotamian parallels).92 The text is a critical, sapiental reflection on any kind of human planning and action without God – with Babel as an exemplary model and countertype. Babylonia is reduced to a mere cliché, only used as a background with local colour for some basic theological and anthropological reflections. And Babylonia is marked as point of departure, but not as a place to stay. The choice of Babel and some of the detailed insights into Babylonian traditions are surely motivated by the exilic experience, and the ironic tone of the story mirrors the inglorious end of the neo-Babylonian empire. In the Persian period Babylon was a fallen city, with Etemenanki in ruins, and no danger to anybody. The exiled people who had been deported to Babylonia had the chance to go home; therefore, in a way, Babylon was indeed the point of departure for different people to spread over the face of the whole earth – even if they just went home.

91

According to SCHUELE, Prolog, 415, the intention of the text is: “das Benennen von Gründen dafür, dass die Entfaltung menschlichen Lebens ... untrennbar mit der Idee des Weltreiches verknüpft ist”. 92 The combination of a summary of the most important military successes with building accounts is not that often attested in Mesopotamia (nota bene: first war, then building), for an example see LEICHTY, Esarhaddon, Esarhaddon no. 60.

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Literature ARNETH, M., Durch Adams Fall ist ganz verderbt ... Studien zur Entstehung der alttestamentlichen Urgeschichte (FRLANT 217), Göttingen 2007. BAUMGART, N. C., Die Umkehr des Schöpfergottes. Zu Komposition und religionsgeschichtlichem Hintergrund von Gen 5–9 (HBS 22), Freiburg u.a. 1999. BEETHAM, D., The Legitimation of Power, 2nd edn, Basingstoke / New York 2013. BERGES, U., “Gen 11,1–9: Babel oder das Ende der Kommunikation”, BN 74 (1994) 37–56. —, “Die befreiende Gabe der Vielfalt”, KatBl 127 (2002) 248–253. BERLEJUNG, A., “Der Handwerker als Theologe. Zur Mentalitäts- und Traditionsgeschichte eines altorientalischen und alttestamentlichen Berufstands”, VT 46 (1996) 145–168. —, “Erinnerungen an Assyrien in Nahum 2,4–3,19”, in: R. Lux / E.-J. Waschke (eds.), Die unwiderstehliche Wahrheit. Studien zur alttestamentlichen Prophetie, Festschrift für Arndt Meinhold (ABIG 23), Leipzig 2006, 323–356. —, “Geschichte und Religionsgeschichte des antiken Israel”, in: J. C. Gertz et al., Grundinformation Altes Testament. Eine Einführung in Literatur, Religion und Geschichte des Alten Testaments (UTB 2745), 4th edn, Göttingen 2010, 59–192. BLUM, E., “Urgeschichte”, TRE 34 (2002) 436–445. BÜHRER, W., Am Anfang ... Untersuchungen zur Textgenese und zur relativ-chronologischen Einordnung von Gen 1–3 (FRLANT 256), Göttingen 2014. CARR, D. M., Reading the Fractures of Genesis: Historical and Literary Approaches, Louisville 1996. DA RIVA, R., The Inscriptions of Nabopolassar, Am´l-Marduk and Neriglissar (Studies in Ancient Near Eastern Records 3), Boston / Berlin 2013. FOKKELMAN, J. P., Narrative Art in Genesis: Specimens of Stylistic and Structural Analysis, Eugene 2004. GALLING, K., “Ziegel”, BRL, 2nd edn (1977) 364. GERTZ, J. C., “Noah und die Propheten: Rezeption und Reformulierung eines altorientalischen Mythos”, DVfLG 81 (2007) 503–522. —, “Babel im Rücken und das Land vor Augen. Anmerkungen zum Abschluß der Urgeschichte und zum Anfang der Erzählungen von den Erzeltern Israels”, in: A. Hagedorn / H. Pfeiffer (eds.), Die Erzväter in der biblischen Tradition, Festschrift für Matthias Köckert (BZAW 400), Berlin / New York 2009, 9–34. —, “The Formation of the Primeval History”, in: C. A. Evans et al. (eds.), The Book of Genesis: Composition, Reception, and Interpretation (VT.S 152), Leiden 2012, 107–135. GUNKEL, H., Genesis (HK I.1), 3rd edn, Göttingen 1910. HELLER, A., Das Babylonien der Spätzeit (7.-4. Jh.) in den klassischen und keilschriftlichen Quellen (Oikumene. Studien zur antiken Weltgeschichte 7), Berlin 2010. HIEKE, T., Die Genealogien der Genesis (HBS 39), Freiburg 2003. JACOB, B., Das erste Buch der Tora: Genesis übersetzt und erklärt, Stuttgart 2000. [1934] KEDAR-KOPFSTEIN, B., “‫”שפה‬, ThWAT 7 (1993) 840–850. KRATZ, R. G., Die Komposition der erzählenden Bücher des Alten Testaments. Grundwissen der Bibelkritik (UTBW 2157), Göttingen 2000. LANGDON, S., Die neubabylonischen Königsinschriften (VAB 4), Leipzig 1912. LEICHTY, E., The Royal Inscriptions of Esarhaddon, King of Assyria (680–669 BC) (RINAP 4), Winona Lake 2011. LEVIN, C., Der Jahwist (FRLANT 157), Göttingen 1993. OSHIMA, T., Babylonian Poems of Pious Sufferers: Ludlul Bēl Nēmeqi and the Babylonian Theodicy (ORA 14), Tübingen 2014.

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RAD, G. VON, Das 1. Buch Mose. Genesis (ATD 2–4), 12th edn, Göttingen 1987 [1948]. RADNER, K., Die Macht des Namens. Altorientalische Strategien zur Selbsterhaltung (SANTAG 8), Wiesbaden 2005. SCHAUDIG, H., Die Inschriften Nabonids von Babylon und Kyros’ des Großen samt den in ihrem Umfeld entstandenen Tendenzschriften (AOAT 256), Münster 2001. SCHMID, H., Der Tempelturm Etemenanki in Babylon (BaF 17), Mainz 1995. SCHUELE, A., Der Prolog der hebräischen Bibel. Der literar- und theologiegeschichtliche Diskurs der Urgeschichte (Genesis 1–11) (AThANT 86), Zürich 2006. STEINGRIMSSON, S., “‫”זמם‬, ThWAT 2 (1977) 599–603. UEHLINGER, C., Weltreich und “eine Rede”. Eine neue Deutung der sogenannten Turmbauerzählung (Gen 11,1–9) (OBO 101), Fribourg / Göttingen 1990. UNGER, E., Babylon. Die Heilige Stadt nach der Beschreibung der Babylonier, Berlin / Leipzig 1931. WENHAM, G. J., Genesis 1–15 (WBC 1), Waco 1987. WITTE, M., Die biblische Urgeschichte. Redaktions- und theologiegeschichtliche Beobachtungen zu Genesis 1,1–11,26 (BZAW 265), Berlin / New York 1998. ZIMMERLI, W., 1. Mose 1–11. Die Urgeschichte, vol. 2, part 1, Mose 5–11, Zürich 1943.

Why Does the Pentateuch Speak so Much of Torah and so Little of Jerusalem? Jean Louis Ska The city of Jerusalem is central in many parts of the Hebrew Bible / Old Testament, for instance in 1–2 Samuel, 1–2 Kings, 1–2 Chronicles, Ezra–Nehemiah and in the Psalms, but not in the Pentateuch.1 Allusions to Jerusalem are indirect and never completely univocal. For instance, the many cultic and sacrificial laws in the Pentateuch never mention Jerusalem explicitly.2 There are probably several ways of explaining this startling phenomenon. We intend to explore one of these ways, namely the fact that cities conquered by foreign powers were, so to speak, desecrated, and lost many of their intrinsic qualities. Some oracles in Jeremiah and in Ezekiel, and songs such as the Book of Lamentations, can buttress this opinion. In a similar way, Isa 40 describes the return of the exiles from Babylonia as YHWH’s return to Jerusalem, and this implies that YHWH was no longer in Jerusalem (see Ezek 10:18–22). Laments over destroyed cities in Mesopotamia can corroborate the idea that such cities are “forsaken” and “forgotten” by their gods (Isa 49:14; see 54:1–10). This situation must have triggered different kinds of answers. We propose that the community of returnees, or some of them, decided to rewrite the origins of Israel without mentioning Jerusalem explicitly for this reason and proposed some different, less fragile, foundations when rebuilding Israel’s community.

1. Jerusalem, Samaria and Shiloh The case of Jerusalem is not isolated, however. The same phenomenon is observed with respect to Samaria, the most important capital of the northern kingdom.3 Jerusalem and Samaria share a few more characteristics besides their being the capitals of two twin kingdoms. Jerusalem was conquered by 1

Cf. the articles on the city in Jerusalem in dictionaries and monographs. See, among others, MEYERS, “Temple”; KEEL, Geschichte Jerusalems; PILGER / WITTE (eds.), Zion; OTTO, Jerusalem; VERMEYLEN, Jérusalem. For a detailed treatment of this question, see AMIT, Hidden Polemics, 130–168, which comes to conclusions similar to ours: “The refusal to mention Jerusalem in the Torah literature is [thus] to be interpreted […] as an expression and reaction to the destruction” (167). 2 See BALTZER, “Jerusalem”, 3–12. 3 On Samaria, see PURVIS, “Samaria”, 914–921.

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David according to 2 Sam 5:6–10, or by the tribe of Judah some time after Joshua’s death according to Judg 1:8. The city had been burnt down. Be that as it may, the name Jerusalem does not appear as such in the Pentateuch. This is also the case for Samaria, for more obvious reasons since the city was founded by King Omri (1 Kgs 16:24). This means that both cities appear rather late in Israel’s traditions. Moreover, both capitals were conquered by foreign armies, that of Assyria and that of Babylonia. A further interesting case is that of Shiloh.4 Shiloh’s shrine appears for the first time in Josh 18:1, where Joshua sets up the tent of meeting in this place. It seems that Shiloh became an important cultic centre. The distribution of the land is decided there in the presence of Joshua, Eleazar, the priest and the heads of the families (Josh 19:51). Other important events take place in this sanctuary, again under the auspices of Joshua and the priest Eleazar, for instance the decision about the Levitical cities (Josh 21:1–3), and that to make war against Reuben, Gad and Manasse, who had erected an altar on the other side of the Jordan (Josh 22:9–12). Shiloh is the place where the Israelites establish their camp in the affair of the crime at Gibeah (Judg 19–21; see Judg 21:12). Shiloh is again the central shrine of the tribes in 1 Sam 1–4 and a place of regular pilgrimages (1 Sam 1:3). The Ark of the Covenant is in Shiloh according to 1 Sam 4:3–4. After the defeat of the Israelites by the Philistines in 1 Sam 4, this holy place is mentioned again once, but only as the residence of a prophet Ahijah (1 Kgs 14:2, 4). Was Shiloh destroyed by the Philistines? This is probable, but never said in plain words. Nobody boasts easily about a cruel discomfiture. The destruction of Shiloh, however, is sometimes mentioned as a paradigm of divine judgment against Israel. This is the case in Jer 7:12–15 and 26:6 (cf. Ps 78:60) where the fate of Shiloh prefigures that of the temple of Jerusalem. Let us add that Shiloh, in spite of its central position in Joshua, Judges and 1 Samuel, is never mentioned in the patriarchal narratives. There is no hieros logos about its foundation as in the case of Bethel, for instance (Gen 28:10–19). Jerusalem, Samaria and Shiloh share, therefore, some common features. First, these cities appear as such rather late and have no real, solid roots in the patriarchal narratives, although the three of them play an essential role in key moments of Israel’s history. Second, the three of them were destroyed by foreign enemies. This is certain in the case of Samaria and Jerusalem, and to be assumed in the case of Shiloh. Moreover, Jeremiah sees in Shiloh’s fate the prefiguration of Jerusalem’s utter ruin. Some could say that the shrine at Bethel was also destroyed, but is nevertheless mentioned in the Book of Genesis (12:8; 13:3; 28:19; 31:13; 35:1, 3, 6, 7, 15).5 The main difference between Jerusalem and Bethel, however, is that the latter was destroyed by Josiah (2 Kgs 12:15) whereas “O God, the 4 5

On Shiloh, see SCHLEY, Shiloh. On Bethel, see among recent studies, KOENEN, Bethel; GOMES, Bethel; KÖHLMOOS, Bet-El.

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nations (‫ )גוים‬have come into your inheritance; they have defiled your holy temple; they have laid Jerusalem in ruins” (Ps 79:1) or “The enemy has stretched out his hands over all her [Jerusalem’s] precious things; for she has seen the nations (‫ )גוים‬enter her sanctuary, those whom you forbade to enter your congregation” (Lam 1:10). The destruction of Bethel described in 2 Kgs 23 is an intra-Israelite affair: it was ordered and endorsed by YHWH, and has no international dimension. Jerusalem, just like Shiloh and Samaria, was destroyed by pagans, by enemies of God, which is much worse.

2. The Disqualification of a City Destroyed by Foreign Enemies In the Ancient Near East, especially in Mesopotamia, we come across a series of texts that will clarify some aspects of the destruction of Jerusalem and its aftermath. They belong to the so-called city lament genre.6 This genre is already known during the period of Sumer and survived until the Hellenistic period. As it is usual in the field of comparative literature, it is difficult to assess the existence of a clear influence of one culture on another, and to be sure of the direction of the influence. Nonetheless, according to most of the studies in the field, the many similarities between ancient Mesopotamian and more recent biblical texts allow us to speak of a relationship between the two. Moreover, we have clear signs of the Neo-Assyrian empire’s impact upon the northern kingdom of Israel from the second half of the ninth century BCE onwards. The history of Babylon and Jerusalem is too well known to be mentioned in detail. We have, therefore, some solid grounds for using the Mesopotamian material in our study of the fall of Jerusalem. The first biblical text that will retain our attention is obviously the Book of Lamentations, which has been classified by several exegetes as a typical example of city lament. Other texts will be mentioned as well, especially the chapters in Ezekiel that describe the fall of the Holy City (Ezek 8–11) and, of course some Psalms (44, 74, 79, 80). Among the main features common to ancient Mesopotamian city laments and the Book of Lamentations, we may list the following elements.7 2.1 The Divinity Abandons His or Her City and Temple First, the divinity forsakes and abandons his or her city when the enemy conquers it.8 It is now common opinion among scholars that people in the Ancient Near East usually attributed changes in the course of historical events to the deliberate 6

See, for instance, COHEN, Canonical Lamentations; LEE / MANDOLFO (eds.), Lamentations. See DOBBS-ALLSOPP, Weep, 45–51. 8 DOBBS-ALLSOPP, Weep, 45–51. 7

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action of the gods. Historical events were, so to speak, the first loci of divine revelation.9 Conquests, victories and defeats were all attributed to direct divine intervention. Therefore, according to this mentality, the capture and destruction of a city can happen only if its tutelary divinity has abandoned its residence, its temple. The divinity is, on this occasion, angry with his or her city, or punishes it for its crimes. This is the preferred way of explaining a defeat rather than admitting the superiority of the victorious army’s gods. The conquering nation praises evidently its own divinities for the conquest. See, e.g., this passage at the beginning of the Lament of Ur (6–9):10 Ninlil has abandoned the house Ki-ur, her sheepfold–to the wind … The queen of Keš has abandoned it, her sheepfold–to the wind … Ninmah has abandoned the house of Keš, her sheepfold–to the wind … She of Isin has abandoned it, her sheepfold–to the wind ….

In the Bible, see Lam 2:7; 5:20; Ezek 8:12; 9:9; Isa 49:14–16. The latter text is probably more striking because it was written after the end of the exile and supposes that the feeling of dereliction was still much alive at that moment:11 But Zion said, “YHWH has forsaken me; my Lord has forgotten me”. Can a woman forget her nursing child, that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are continually before me.

Ezek 8:1–11:25 is the text that more explicitly describes the moment in which the Glory of the Lord abandons the temple.12 The description is detailed so that the reader understands that the temple remains empty before the enemy enters and profanes the House of God. The Glory of YHWH leaves the city and stands on the Mount of Olives, east of the city (Ezek 11:23). 2.2 The Question of Responsibility A second element of importance is that of responsibility. In Mesopotamia, the destruction of a city is normally assigned to a decision taken by the divine council.13 For instance, in the Lamentation of Ur, the goddess Ningal, the protector of the city of Ur, pleads, but in vain, in front of the divine assembly to repel the calamity (143–151):14 9

See the seminal works by ALBREKTSON, History; SAGGS, Encounter. For the translation and a commentary, see SAMET, Lamentation, 55 and 78–80. 11 See TIEMEYER, Comfort, 263–265, for whom the audience of these oracles are templeless Judeans and perhaps “some of the earliest returning exiles” (265). See also Comfort, 288–292: Zion–Jerusalem represents “the people living in Judah” before 539 BCE and the “children” likely represent “the people returning from the Diaspora” (292). 12 BLOCK, “Divine Abandonment”. 13 DOBBS-ALLSOPP, Weep, 52–55. 14 See SAMET, Lamentation, 63 and 93–94. 10

Why Does the Pentateuch Speak so Much of Torah and so Little of Jerusalem? 117 On that day, I [Ningal] did not forsake my city, I did not neglect my land; I shed my tears before An, I myself made supplication before Enlil. “Let not my city be destroyed!” I said to them. “Let not Ur be destroyed!” I said to them. “Let not its people perish!” I said to them. But An would not change that word, Enlil would not soothe my heart with that “It is good; so be it”.

This decision can be arbitrary and unmotivated in some cases. There is no fault with the inhabitants of the conquered city, or its rulers, or its gods. In several biblical texts, however, the cause of the catastrophe is surely with YHWH, not because he was unable to defend his city, but because he finds fault with Jerusalem and its inhabitants.15 In other passages, the people confess their sins and crimes (Lam 3:42; 5:16). The leaders of the city are also among those guilty of important crimes, for instance the ancestors (Lam 5:7), the priests (4:13) and the prophets (2:14; 4:13). The Book of Lamentations is most probably influenced by the prophetic idea of sin and the covenant theology of Deuteronomy. Jeremiah is the prophet who, with Ezekiel, hammers home this idea in his oracles about Jerusalem. Jeremiah 5:1–6 is among the most explicit texts in this regard. See, for instance, this statement in Jer 5:4–5: Then I said, “These are only the poor; they have no sense; for they do not know the way of YHWH, the justice of their God. I will go to the great and will speak to them, for they know the way of the YHWH, the justice of their God.” But they all alike had broken the yoke; they had burst the bonds.

All the inhabitants of Jerusalem are accountable for what is going to happen, the poor and the rich, the weak and the powerful, the people and its rulers, without any exception. Other texts, however, complain about God’s perplexing decision to destroy Jerusalem.16 Psalm 44:17–22 states this without any ambiguity: All this has come upon us, though we have not forgotten you, and we have not been false to your covenant. Our heart has not turned back, nor have our steps departed from your way; yet you have broken us in the place of jackals and covered us with the shadow of death. If we had forgotten the name of our God or spread out our hands to a foreign god, would not God discover this? For he knows the secrets of the heart. Yet for your sake we are killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.

This Psalm denies that Jerusalem has broken the covenant and had worshipped other gods.17 In other words, Jerusalem cannot be accused of having forgotten 15 See, for instance, Lam 1:5, 8, 14, 18, 20, 22. Lam 1:5 is very clear: “Her foes have become the head; her enemies prosper, because YHWH has afflicted her for the multitude of her transgressions; her children have gone away, captives before the foe”. 16 ROM-SHILONI, Destruction (Hebrew); RAMOND, “Voix discordante”.

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the main stipulations of the Deuteronomic theology of covenant. It remains nonetheless patent that the destruction of Jerusalem was decided by God and God only, whether it is motivated by human failures or not. 2.3 The Possible Restoration of the Destroyed City A third aspect that can retain our attention in this short inquiry is a startling difference between the Book of Lamentations and the other city laments stemming from Mesopotamia. Most of the time, the city lament is concluded by a description of the restoration of the city and the triumphant return of the gods to their temple.18 We find this feature in almost all Mesopotamian city laments but one, namely the so-called “Curse of Agade”.19 This is so much so that most specialists draw the conclusion that a city lament was most of the time composed to celebrate the restoration of the city, building up a contrast between the awful time of the destruction and the actual, joyful experience of restoration. The texts were therefore composed after the reconstruction and reoccupation of the city. In the course of time, this part of the poem increased in importance and length. In later compositions it can occupy as much as half of the lament.20 The exception, the “Curse of Agade”, finishes instead with an appalling description of the city that would deter anyone from inhabiting it (“Curse of Agade”, 279–280): Whoever said, “I would dwell in that city!” – there was no acceptable dwelling place for him there. Whoever said, “I would rest in Agade!” – there was no attractive resting place for him there! 21 Agade is destroyed – hail Inanna!

On that point, and this is what I want to underline, there is a similarity between the “Curse of Agade” and the Book of Lamentations, which does not contain any allusion to the reconstruction of the city. This theme is only implicitly mentioned in Lam 4:22a (“The punishment of your iniquity, O daughter of Zion, is accomplished; [YHWH] will keep you in exile no longer”). In Lam 5:21 we have a short prayer for restoration, but undercut by a reaffirmation of YHWH’s wrath in the next verse: “Restore us to yourself, YHWH, that we may be restored! Renew our days as of old – unless you have utterly rejected us, and you remain exceedingly angry with us.” As Adele Berlin puts it: “The idea that God exists separate from the temple should bring hope to the Judeans that he will aid them, but this hope is dashed immediately by God’s refusal to respond”.22 17

ROM-SHILONI, “Psalm 44”, 683–698. DOBBS-ALLSOPP, Weep, 92–96. 19 DOBBS-ALLSOPP, Weep, 93. 20 DOBBS-ALLSOPP, Weep, 92, quoting FOWLER, Kinds of Literature. 21 COOPER, Curse, 63. 22 BERLIN, Lamentations, 125; see also SALTERS, Lamentations, 371–375; BERGES, Klagelieder, 299–303; DOBBS-ALLSOPP, Lamentations, 147–149. 18

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These lines conclude the fifth and last chapter of the book. There is no mention of the actual rebuilding of the city and its temple. On this point, Lamentations is close to the “Curse of Agade”.23 The conventional theme of restoration is used only to make the audience feel its dereliction all the more. Every expectation in this sense is thwarted, at least as far as Lamentations is concerned. For this reason, it is unlikely that the poems were composed after and for the reconstruction of Jerusalem. It is more probable that they were written to express the people’s deep grief and suffering, and to complain against the apparent unfairness of YHWH’s behaviour in destroying the Holy City, as, for instance, in Psalm 44.24

3. The Restoration and the Disillusionment Admittedly, Jerusalem was rebuilt, like other cities in Ancient Near East. Several texts announce or celebrate its rebuilding, especially in Isa 40–55, in a few Psalms and in Nehemiah. The impression, however, is that the rebuilt city cannot compete with the older one. A text in Ezra underscores the difference (Ezra 3:11–13):25 And they sang responsively, praising and giving thanks to YHWH, “For he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever toward Israel”. And all the people shouted with a great shout when they praised YHWH, because the foundation of the house of the YHWH was laid. But many of the priests and Levites and heads of fathers’ houses, old men who had seen the first house, wept with a loud voice when they saw the foundation of this house being laid, though many shouted aloud for joy, so that the people could not distinguish the sound of the joyful shout from the sound of the people’s weeping, for the people shouted with a great shout, and the sound was heard far away.

The text does not explain very clearly the reason why some people “weep with a loud voice” whereas others “shout aloud for joy”. One thing is sure, namely that the feelings are mixed when the foundations of the second temple are laid. People may weep for different reasons, but since those weeping are “old men who had seen the first house”, priests, Levites, heads of families, it seems more likely that they weep because they remember the old temple and its profanations by the Babylonian army. The tragic memory of the past cannot be fully cancelled by the beginning of a reconstruction. There is a scar, a permanent scar. Something had been destroyed forever, and not only the city, 23

DOBBS-ALLSOPP, Weep, 94. DOBBS-ALLSOPP, Weep, 94. The same holds true for the Jewish apocalyptic literature; see DASCHKE, City of Ruins. 25 See WILLIAMSON, Ezra-Nehemiah, 48–49, with reference to Hag 2:3 and Zech 4:10; FRIED, “Land”, 43–46: “Ritual laments are prescribed throughout the building process until the new temple is dedicated”; the author quotes several ANE parallels to the ritual in Ezra 3:11–13. The context of Ezra 3:11–13 however, is not exactly that of a liturgical celebration. 24

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its walls and its temple, but the confidence in the impregnability of the Holy City. In some parts of Isaiah, it is clear that the inhabitants of the city believed that the city could not be conquered (Isa 37:5–7, 28–29). This mentality also appears in the well-known oracle of Jer 7, an oracle against Jerusalem and its temple (see especially Jer 7:4). The unconquerable city, in spite of all, had been conquered by a “pagan” army, that of the Babylonians.26 Another text, in the prophet Haggai, adds one important element to the picture. After the reconstruction of the temple, a comparison between the former and the actual temple was unavoidable for those who had known Solomon’s building. The result does not favour the second temple (Hag 2:3): “Who is left among you who saw this house in its former glory? How do you see it now? Is it not as nothing in your eyes?” The oracle therefore encourages the leaders of the community, Zerubbabel, a descendant of David’s house, Joshua, the priest and the “people of the land” to hope for a better future and a more beautiful construction. God will intervene and bring the treasures of the nations to Jerusalem so that, eventually, “The latter glory of this house shall be greater than the former, says YHWH of hosts. And in this place I will give peace, declares YHWH of hosts.” (Hag 2:9)27 The important point, it seems to me, is that the reconstruction of the temple is a disappointing experience. Only after a cosmic, perhaps an eschatological, intervention of YHWH, the Lord of Hosts, will the temple fulfil all expectations, since its splendour will surpass that of Solomon’s building. The images used in Haggai’s oracle are cosmic ones and may have eschatological or messianic connotations (Hag 2:6–7): For thus says YHWH of hosts: Yet once more, in a little while, I will shake the heavens and the earth and the sea and the dry land. And I will shake all nations, so that the treasures of all nations shall come in, and I will fill this house with glory, says YHWH of hosts.

The text probably alludes to the pilgrimage of the nations that is also mentioned, for instance, in Isa 60:7–11; cf. Isa 2:1–5; Mic 4:1–3. The important aspect of these texts is that the present is unsatisfactory and this obliges the writers to project 28 the people’s expectations once again into the future. How are they to live in the present if the temple cannot fulfil the people’s desire? To this question, the books of Ezra and Nehemiah offer one answer: the law. This is what we will have to analyze now. 26 On the contrast between Isaiah and Jeremiah on this point, see especially HARDMEIER, Prophetie. 27 MEYERS / MEYERS, Haggai, 52–53; MEADOWCROFT, Haggai, 162–170, does not see an eschatological dimension in the text, because God’s intervention is not “for the distant future” (165). Much depends on the way one defines the term “eschatology”. 28 See LIPSCHITS, Fall, 113: “I have grave doubts that, after the destruction of Jerusalem, the city and the temple retained as much importance for the various groups who remained in Judah or even for the exiles …. The Babylonian policy after Jerusalem’s fall and the prohibition of rebuilding Jerusalem and the temple were decisive factors in the decline in the city’s status.”

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4. From a City of Stones to a City of Words How could people overcome the deep feeling of disappointment after the progressive return from Babylon? Jerusalem was rebuilt, but the real Jerusalem was projected into a better, perhaps an eschatological, future. The question was: how to deal with the present? How to cope with the difficulties of everyday life and how to organize the life of a community scattered in different parts of the Persian Empire and afterwards in different Hellenistic Kingdoms? Several answers were proposed, of course. Some preferred to prepare for a better future, others found an accommodation with the present, especially with the new temple and its cult, others still were happy to enjoy the pax persica without expecting too much either from God or from the political authorities of the day. One of the solutions adopted, probably after long reflections and some bitter experiences, was to turn to the Torah. Since Jerusalem could not be the place where all the members of Israel could gather and live together, it was necessary to find another solution to create a community on a new foundation. For obvious reasons, this identity could no longer be limited to people living in the same territory. Nor could it be limited to people ruled by the same political authorities since Jews were under Persian, and then Hellenistic, powers. The basic idea was to create an identity around the observance of the same customs, namely the same Torah.29 It is not possible, and surely not within the limits of this short article, to find out exactly when and where this idea cropped up. We certainly find a clear allusion to the importance of the Torah in the Books of Ezra and Nehemiah. For instance, Ezra is sent by the king of Persia from Babylon to Jerusalem to enforce the law in Judah and in Jerusalem (Ezra 7:26; cf. 7:5, 13, 14). This law is proclaimed in the great assembly in Neh 8:1–15.30 In the limited space of this article, I would like to analyze only three texts, of a certain importance because they reveal how much the Torah was present at the centre of Jewish life. In this sense, one could say that the postexilic community decided to find its home less in a city of stone than in a city of words. 4.1 Joshua, Doctor of the Law or campeador? A first text to be analyzed is Josh 1:7–9.31 In recent years, this text has been studied independently by exegetes belonging to different schools.32 The results 29 Much has been written recently on the topic of identity. See, among many others, LIPSCHITS et al. (eds.), Judah and the Judeans; JONKER (ed.), Texts. 30 These texts are very much discussed nowadays. Our contention is that the Law takes progressively the upper hand in the debates during the Persian and the Hellenistic Period. For more details, see, among others, DUGGAN, Covenant; PAKKALA, Ezra; WRIGHT, Rebuilding; KRATZ, “Ezra”. 31 The idea was developed by ZENGER, “Tanach”, 26–27.

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are convergent, however. The text is a late insertion into the chapter and introduces a new perspective. Joshua’s first mission, so to speak, is to conquer the land and to distribute it to the tribes (Josh 1:1–6). Immediately afterwards, and framed in 1:7 and 1:9 by the formula that concludes the first oracle – “be strong and courageous” (cf. 1:6) – we find a long exhortation to be faithful to what is written in the law of Moses. It is on observance of the law that the success of all Joshua’s undertakings depends. Exegetes notice two features of this oracle. First, it is introduced by a formula which is typical of the military vocabulary.33 It means that we have here a sign of a later insertion into a military context. Second, the oracle subordinates the conquest to the observance of the law whereas divine assistance is unconditioned in the preceding part of the oracle (1:5). Two conclusions may be drawn from this text. First, the figure of Joshua, the first leader of Israel after Moses’ death, is not exactly that of a warrior and conqueror, a role that emerges especially in the first part of the book (Josh 1–12). The portrait of Joshua in these verses is closer to that of a doctor of the law, a scholar, who dedicates all his time to the study, meditation, and observance of the law. Second, this is the more important because the Book of Joshua is the first of the Former Prophets in the Jewish Canon. In this respect, Joshua becomes a paradigm for all the other leaders of Israel, in all the Former Prophets and even beyond. Joshua prefigures, not exactly David, but rather Ezra, “a scribe skilled in the Law of Moses” (Ezra 7:6). Moreover, this oracle provides the reader with a key of interpretation to the further history of Israel. Success and failure will be explained again and again in the same way: they are both connected with the observance or non-observance of the law. 4.2. Doctor of the Law: An Ideal for Everyone in Israel (Psalm 1) As noted by many commentators, the vocabulary and themes present in Josh 34 1:7–9 reappear in Psalm 1. This Psalm was most probably composed to become a “preface” to the whole Psalter. This means that this Psalm is supposed to orientate the reading and interpretation of the whole Psalter, and perhaps of all the books of the same kind found in the third part of the Hebrew Bible, the so-called Writings (ketûbîm). On two important points, Psalm 1 is parallel to Josh 1:7–9, namely in its insistence on meditating the law day and night (‫;ובתורתו יהגה יומם ולילה‬ 32

See, among many others, SMEND, “Gesetz”, 494–497 = “Law”, 96–98; FISHBANE, “Inner-biblical”, 28–29; ROFÉ, “Piety”, 78–80; RÖMER, “Josué”, 117–124; FINSTERBUSCH, “Deuteronomy”, 168–175; ALBERTINI, “Al di là”, 57–79. 33 See, among others, FISHBANE, Biblical Interpretation, 384–385; SICRE, Josué, 83; VAN DER MEER, Formation, 210–222. 34 ROFÉ, “Piety”, 78–80; ZENGER, “Tanach”, 27.

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Ps 1:2 and Josh 1:8) and on conditioning the success of every undertaking to meditating (and observing) of the law (‫ ;וכל אשר יעשה יצליח‬Ps 1:3c and Josh 1:8b).35 It is difficult, I think, to deny the existence of any connection between these two texts. Without entering into a long debate about the direction of dependence, we can reasonably assume that both texts originate in the same milieu and express the same basic ideas, namely that the law of God or the law of Moses must hold pride of place in Israel’s existence. What is asked of Joshua, the first paradigmatic leader of whole Israel, is now proposed as ideal to “everyone” in Israel. The main activity of a faithful member of Israel is the study and meditation of the law. Israel must be, in this sense, a nation of scholars, of rabbis and doctors of the law. The whole nation must live in a kind of yeshiva. To illustrate this idea that must have dominated Israel’s spirituality for centuries, let us quote a short reflection by Arnaldo Momigliano, a famous Jewish specialist in classical Greek and Roman literature:36 The whole development of Judaism led to something unhistorical, eternal, the Law, the Torah. The significance which the Jews came to attach to the Torah killed their interest in general historiography. “There is no earlier and no later in the Torah.” (Pes. 6b)

For this reason, according to Momigliano, there is no real Jewish historian after Josephus until Azariah de Rossi in the Renaissance (Mantova, 1511 – Ferrara, 1578). This tendency of Israel to focus all its energies on the Torah may explain to a certain extent why the Holy City of Jerusalem disappears from the horizon of prominent parts of the scriptures such as the Torah. The glory of Jerusalem belongs henceforth to the past, as the splendour of David’s and Solomon’s kingdom. Nothing in the rebuilt city can compare with the grandeur of the first city, a grandeur that was probably embellished in the memory of those who celebrated it. The Holy City will recover all its magnificence only in a remote future and this will be the result, not of human actions, whether political or military, but of a divine initiative. Since the past is gone forever and the future belongs to God only, how can the members of Israel, in the land and in the Diaspora, deal with the present? The answer of Josh 1:7–9 and Ps 1 is unequivocal: in meditating and observing the Torah. 4.3. The Patriarchs or the Law? Ezekiel 33:23–29 MT A confirmation of the priority of the law in the late, postexilic, period is to be found in Ezek 33:23–29. Actually, the MT is longer than the LXX, where the text passes from the first words of v. 25 (“Therefore, say to them, Thus says YHWH”) to v. 27. The LXX “skips” the allusion to the transgressions of the law. We have good reasons to consider the MT as original in this case since the translator of the LXX most probably skipped the text between the two 35 36

See ROFÉ, “Piety”; and less specific, COLE, Gateway. MOMIGLIANO, Classical Foundations, 23.

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introductory formulae in v. 25 and v. 27, “Therefore say to them, Thus says YHWH God” (‫ )כה אמר אדני יהוה‬and “Say this to them, Thus says YHWH God ”. We have a clear case of parablepsis occasioned by homoioteleuton.37 The key word of this passage is the verb ‫“( ירש‬to inherit”) present in vv. 24, 25 and 26. The same root appears a second time in the name ‫“( מורשה‬possession”, “inheritance”) in v. 24. Essentially, the text opposes two different claims to the inheritance of the land. A group of people in Jerusalem, “the inhabitants of these waste places” (v. 24), affirms that they will inherit the land because they are descendants of Abraham. The divine oracle in vv. 25–29 first contests the legitimacy of this claim, accusing the claimants of not observing a series of precepts of the law in vv. 25–26: eating flesh with blood, idolatry, shedding blood, relying on violence (sword), committing abominations, adultery. Ritual and criminal misbehaviour prevents those who remained in the land, in Jerusalem, from inheriting the land. In a typical Deuteronomic fashion, this text affirms that the possession of the land is conditioned by the observance of the law. The promises to the patriarch Abraham, on the contrary, are not sufficient to entitle them to inherit the land. Unmistakably this oracle of Ezekiel affirms the superiority of the law over the patriarchal traditions, specifically that of Abraham.38 4.4 The Law or the Temple (1 Kgs 6:11–13 MT)? The same tendency of affirming the superiority of the law over other traditions is to be found in a short passage in 1 Kings. A comparison between the MT and the LXX reveals that this penchant is also attested in the late Hellenistic period. 1 Kgs 6 describes the building of the temple by Solomon. In the first part, Solomon builds the main structure (6:1–10), while in a second part, he fits out the interior of the building (6:15–36). In between the two parts we suddenly come across a divine oracle (6:11–13), something rare in this part of the scriptures. God speaks to Solomon only three times, in the dream at Gibeon (3:4–15) and “a second time” after the dedication of the temple (9:1–9) to reaffirm the necessity of observing the law. The simple fact that this oracle (9:1–9) is supposed to be the second after that in Gibeon (9:1), suggests that the oracle in 6:11–13 is a late addition. This is confirmed by the absence of the whole oracle, vv. 11–14, from the LXX (in B, as in Ant.). We have good reasons to believe that this long text cannot have been omitted by a simple parablepsis, since it is a divine oracle and the text is rather long.39 The Hebrew text also contains a typical “resumption” 37 Several older commentaries are of this opinion. See, among others, COOKE, Ezekiel, 371; WEVERS, Ezekiel, 255, n. 25 (parablepsis); ZIMMERLI, Ezechiel 25–48, 815 (homoioteleuton). More recent commentaries rarely mention the problem. 38 See, among others, BLOCK, Ezekiel, 256–261; RÖMER, “Recherches”, 191–192. 39 On this point, see, among others, BURNEY, Notes, 68–69 (the text combines elements from Deuteronomistic Literature, the Priestly Writer and the Holiness Code); LUST, “Solomon’s Temple”, 264–275.

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since the phrase “and Solomon built the house and finished it” in v. 9 is repeated almost literally in v. 14. It would be possible to say that the Greek translator jumped from v. 9 till v. 14, but, strangely enough, he translated v. 10. Only the divine oracle, vv. 11–14, is absent from the LXX. In other words, it is reasonable to consider that the oracle is a late addition and that the text was not yet present in the Proto-Masoretic text translated by the LXX. This oracle insists on faithfulness to the law: Concerning this house that you are building, if you will walk in my statutes and obey my rules and keep all my commandments and walk in them, then I will establish my word with you, which I spoke to David your father. And I will dwell among the children of Israel and will not forsake my people Israel.

In the middle of a chapter entirely dedicated to the building of the temple and to the cult, a divine oracle reminds Solomon and the reader that God’s presence in the midst of his people is conditioned by the adherence to the law. The temple as such is no guarantee. Only if Solomon obeys the law will God dwell in the temple. This means to say that obedience to the law is more important than the temple itself, the most celebrated work of Solomon’s reign. The same idea is repeated in 1 Kgs 9:1–9, an oracle with a typical Deuteronomistic flavour, which foresees the end of the dynasty, the exile and even the destruction of the temple. All this will happen if the king and the nation do not keep the law. Several other texts, spread throughout the so-called historical books or the Deuteronomistic history, play the same music.40 I want to underline that both oracles just mentioned, 1 Kgs 6:11–14 and 9:1–9, are closely connected with the construction of the temple (6:12; 9:1–2). The position of the oracles is most relevant, in my opinion, and offers a reinterpretation of the temple in the light of the law, to subordinate the temple to the law.41

5. Conclusion Much more could be said on this topic, I am sure. These few reflections can be summarized in three propositions. Jerusalem is not mentioned explicitly in the Pentateuch, the Torah: first because it was destroyed by foreigners; second, because its reconstruction was the cause of disappointment and its final restoration 40

Cf. the texts assigned to the so-called nomistic redaction in the Deuteronomistic history by the Göttingen School; cf. SMEND, “Gesetz”. On this, see RÖMER, Deuteronomistic History, 29–30. For other texts reflecting the same ideology, see, for instance, Josh 1:7–9; 23; Judg 2:1–5; 6:7–10; 1 Sam 12:1–25 (22–23); 15:22–23; 1 Kgs 2:2–4; 6:11–13; 9:1–9; 2 Kgs 17:7–12, 13–18, 19–20. 41 On the origin and meaning of 1 Kgs 9:1–9, see BURNEY, Notes, 129–130, who adopts a preexilic date, during the reign of Josiah, for vv. 1–5; MONTGOMERY, Kings, 204: “It is thoroughly Deuteronomic in language, is not affected by the Priestly literature”; FRITZ, 1 and 2 Kings, 103: “the Deuteronomistic Historian wrote the report”.

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became the object of eschatological hope; and third, because the law became the most important pillar of Israel’s life in postexilic times, more important than the patriarchs and the temple, the key to interpreting the Former Prophets and the Psalms and, most probably, the entire scriptures. In sum, the postexilic community of Israel preferred to house its renewed identity in a city of words, the Torah, rather than in an uncompleted city of stones, Jerusalem.

Literature ALBERTINI, P. L., “Al di là della terra. Analisi del carattere redazionale di Gs 1,7–9”, RBI 59 (2011) 57–79. ALBREKTSON, B., History and the Gods: An Essay on the Idea of Historical Events as Divine Manifestations in the Ancient Near East and in Israel, Lund 1967. AMIT, Y., Hidden Polemics in Biblical Narratives (BiInS 25), Leiden 2000. BALTZER, K., “Jerusalem in den Erzvätergeschichten der Genesis? Traditionsgeschichtliche Erwägungen zu Gen 14 und 22”, in: E. Blum et al. (eds.), Die Hebräische Bibel und ihre zweifache Nachgeschichte. FS R. Rendtorff, Neukirchen-Vluyn 1990, 3–12. BERGES, U., Klagelieder (HThKAT), Freiburg im Breisgau 2002. BERLIN, A., Lamentations: A Commentary (OTL), Louisville, KY / London 2002. BLOCK, D. I., The Book of Ezekiel. Chapters 25-48 (NICOT), Grand Rapids, MI 1998. —, “Divine Abandonment: Ezekiel’s Adaptation of an Ancient Near Eastern Motif”, in: M. S. Odell / J. T. Strong (eds.), Perspectives on Ezekiel: Theology and Anthropology (SBLSymS 9), Atlanta, GA 2000, 15–42 (repr. in By the River Chebar: Historical, Literary, and Theological Studies in the Book of Ezekiel, Eugene, OR 2013, 73–99). BURNEY, C. F., Notes on the Hebrew Text of the Books of Kings with an Introduction and Appendix, Oxford 1903. COHEN, M. E., The Canonical Lamentations of Ancient Mesopotamia, Potomac, MD 1988. COLE, R. L., Psalms 1–2: Gateway to the Psalter, Sheffield 2013. COOKE, G. A., A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Book of Ezekiel (ICC), Edinburgh 1936. COOPER, J. S., The Curse of Agade (JHNES 13), Baltimore, MD 1983. DASCHKE, D., City of Ruins: Mourning the Destruction of Jerusalem through Jewish Apocalypse (BiInS 99), Leiden / Boston, MA 2010. DOBBS-ALLSOPP, F. W., Weep, O Daughter of Zion: A Study of the City-Lament Genre in the Hebrew Bible (BibOr 44), Rome 1993. —, Lamentations (Interpretation), Louisville, KY 2002. DUGGAN, M. W., The Covenant Renewal in Ezra-Nehemiah (Neh 7:72B - 10:40): An Exegetical Literary, and Theological Study (SBLDS 164), Atlanta, GA 2001. FINSTERBUCH, K., “Deuteronomy and Joshua: Torah in the Book of Joshua in the Light of Deuteronomy”, JAJ 3 (2012) 166–196. FISHBANE, M., Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel, Oxford 1986. —, “Inner-biblical Interpretation and the Development of Tradition”, in: M. Oeming et al. (eds.), Das Alte Testament und die Kultur der Moderne (Altes Testament und Moderne 8), Münster 2004, 25–35. FOWLER, A., Kinds of Literature: An Introduction to the Theory of Genres and Modes, Cambridge, MA 1982.

Why Does the Pentateuch Speak so Much of Torah and so Little of Jerusalem? 127 FRIED, L. S., “The Land Lay Desolate: Conquest and Restoration in the Ancient Near East”, in: O. Lipschits / J. Blenkinsopp (eds.), Judah and the Judeans in the Neo-Babylonian Period, Winona Lake, IN 2003, 21–54. FRITZ, V., 1 and 2 Kings: A Continental Commentary, Minneapolis, MN 2003. GOMES, J. F., The Sanctuary of Bethel and the Configuration of Israelite Identity (BZAW 368), Berlin 2006. HARDMEIER, C., Prophetie im Streit vor dem Untergang Judas: Erzählkommunikative Studien zur Entstehungssituation der Jesaja- und Jeremiaerzählungen in II Reg 18–20 und Jer 37–40 (BZAW 187), Berlin 1990. JONKER, L. (ed.), Texts, Contexts and Readings in Postexilic Literature: Explorations into Historiography and Identity Negotiation in Hebrew Bible and Related Texts (FAT II 53), Tübingen 2011. KEEL, O., Die Geschichte Jerusalems und die Entstehung des Monotheismus, Göttingen 2007. KOENEN, K., Bethel: Geschichte, Kult und Theologie (OBO 192), Göttingen 2003. KÖHLMOOS, M., Bet-El – Erinnerungen an eine Stadt: Perspektiven der alttestamentlichen Bet-El-Überlieferung (FAT II 49), Tübingen 2006. KRATZ, R. G., “Ezra – Priest and Scribe”, in: L. Perdue (ed.), Scribes, Sages and Seers: The Sage in the Eastern Mediterranean World (FRLANT 219), Göttingen 2008, 163–188. LEE, N. C. / MANDOLFO, C. (eds.), Lamentations in Ancient and Contemporary Cultural Contexts (SBL Symposium 43), Atlanta, GA 2008. LIPSCHITS, O., The Fall and Rise of Jerusalem, Winona Lake, IN 2005. LIPSCHITS, O. et al. (eds.), Judah and the Judeans in the Achaemenid Period: Negotiating Identity in an International Context, Winona Lake, IN 2011. LUST, J., “Solomon’s Temple According to 1 Kings 6,3–14 in Hebrew and in Greek”, in: H. Ausloos et al. (eds.), After Qumran: Old and Modern Editions of the Biblical Texts – The Historical Books, Leuven 2012, 265–274. MEADOWCROFT, T., Haggai (Readings: A New Commentary), Sheffield 2007. MEER, M. N. VAN DER, Formation and Reformulation: The Redaction of the Book of Joshua in the Light of the Oldest Textual Witnesses (VT.S 102), Leiden 2004. MEYERS, C. L., “Temple, Jerusalem”, ABD 6 (1992) 350–369. MEYERS, C. L. / MEYERS, E. M., Haggai, Zechariah 1–8 (AncB 25B), Garden City, NY 1987. MOMIGLIANO, A. D., The Classical Foundations of Modern Historiography, Berkeley, CA 1990. MONTGOMERY, J. A., A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Books of Kings (ed. H. S. Gehman; ICC), Edinburgh 1951, 1960. OTTO, E., Das antike Jerusalem. Archäologie und Geschichte (Beck’sche Reihe Wissen 2418), München 2008. PAKKALA, J., Ezra the Scribe: The Development of Ezra 7-10 and Nehemia 8 (BZAW 347), Berlin / New York 2004. PILGER, T. / WITTE, M. (eds.), Zion: Symbol des Lebens in Judentum und Christentum, Leipzig 2013. PURVIS, J. D., “Samaria, the City of”, ABD 5 (1992) 914–921. RAMOND, S., “La voix discordante du troisième livre du Psautier (Psaumes 74, 80, 89)”, Bib 96 (2015) 39–66. ROFÉ, A., “The Piety of the Torah-Disciples at the Winding-Up of the Hebrew Bible: Josh 1:8; Ps 1:2; Isa 59:21”, in: H. Merklein et al. (eds.), Bibel in jüdischer und christlicher Tradition. Festschrift für Johann Maier zum 60. Geburtstag (BBB 88), Frankfurt a.M. 1993, 78–85. RÖMER, T., “Josué, lecteur de la Tora (Jos 1,8)”, in: K.-D. Schunck / M. Augustin (eds.), “Lasset uns Brücken bauen …”: Collected Communications on the XVth Congress of the International Organization for the Study of the Old Testament, Cambridge 1995 (BEATAJ 42), Frankfurt am Main 1998, 117–124.

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—, “Recherches actuelles sur le cycle d’Abraham”, in: A. Wénin (ed.), Studies in the Book of Genesis. Literature, Redaction and History (BETL 155), Leuven 2001, 179–211. —, The So-Called Deuteronomistic History: A Sociological, Historical and Literary Introduction, London / New York 2006. ROM-SHILONI, D., “Psalm 44. The Powers of Protest”, CBQ 70 (2008) 683–698. —, God in Times of Destruction and Exiles: Tanakh (Hebrew Bible) Theology, Jerusalem 2009 (Hebrew). —, Exclusive Inclusivity: Identity Conflicts between the Exiles and the People who Remained (6th–5th Centuries BCE) (LHB 543), New York / London 2013. SAGGS, H. W. F., The Encounter with the Divine in Mesopotamia and Israel, London 1978. SALTERS, R. B., A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Lamentations (ICC), London / New York 2011. SAMET, N., The Lamantation over the Destruction of Ur (MC 18), Winona Lake 2014. SCHLEY, D. G., Shiloh: A Biblical City in Tradition and History (JSOT.S 63), Sheffield 1989. SICRE, J. L., Josué. Historia (Nueva Biblia Española), Estella, Navarra 2002. SMEND, R., “Das Gesetz und die Völker: Ein Beitrag zur deuteronomistischen Redaktionsgeschichte”, in: H. W. Wolff (ed.), Probleme biblischer Theologie: Gerhard von Rad zum 70. Geburtstag, Munich 1971, 494–509 (repr. in Die Mitte des Alten Testaments. Gesammelte Studien 1 [BEvTh 99], Munich 1986, 124–137; ET “The Law and the Nations: A Contribution to Deuteronomistic Tradition History”, in: G. N. Knoppers / J. G. McConville [eds.], Reconsidering Israel and Judah: The Deuteronomistic History in Recent Thought [SBTS 8], Winona Lake, IN 2000, 95–110). TIEMEYER, L.-S., For the Comfort of Zion: The Geographical and Theological Location of Isaiah 40–55 (VT.S 139), Leiden 2011. VERMEYLEN, Jérusalem centre du monde. Développements et contestations d’une tradition biblique (LeDiv 217), Paris 2007. WEVERS, J. W., Ezekiel: Based on the Revised Standard Version (CeB), London 1969. WILLIAMSON, Ezra-Nehemia (WBC 16), Waco, TX 1985. WRIGHT, J. L., Rebuilding Identity: The Nehemiah-Memoir and its Earliest Readers (BZAW 348), Berlin / New York 2005. ZENGER, E., “Der Tanach: Heilige Schrift der Juden”, in: Zenger, E. et al., Einleitung in das Alte Testament, 8th edn, Stuttgart 2012, 22–27. ZIMMERLI, W., Ezechiel 25–48 (BK.AT 13/2), Neukirchen-Vluyn 1969.

Divine Legislation in the Pentateuch in its Late Judean and Neo-Babylonian Context Konrad Schmid With its notion of divine laws, the Pentateuch stands out in its ancient Near Eastern legal context, since lawgiving was usually the task of kings, not of gods. From a historical perspective, the Pentateuch’s concept of God as lawgiver was not a given from the beginning of its literary and legal history, but developed over time. The earliest components of the Covenant Code do not present their stipulations as divine laws. Rather, this perspective on the laws as God’s laws results from different redactional framings of older collections that introduce God as speaker and lawgiver. This paper will ask about the processes and factors that enabled this notion of divine law, asking how they might relate to the historical experience of the falls of Samaria and Jerusalem and to the loss of kingship in ancient Israel and Judah.

1. Introduction The Torah incorporates God’s law as having been passed to Moses on Mount Sinai. According to the Pentateuch as it now stands, God is a lawgiver from the very beginning of the storyline in Genesis. The first speech that God addresses to the human beings in Gen 1:28 is a commandment that, according to some strands of the Jewish tradition, is the most important one: ‫פרו ורבו‬ ‫ומלאו את־הארץ וכבשה‬ ‫ורדו בדגת הים‬ ‫ובעוף השמים‬ ‫ובכל־חיה הרמשת‬ ‫על־הארץ‬

Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.

Likewise in the second narrative of the Bible, Gen 2–3, God’s first word involves a commandment that alludes to a traditional, legal stipulation of capital punishment: ‫מכל עץ־הגן אכל תאכל‬ ‫ומעץ הדעת טוב ורע‬ ‫לא תאכל ממנו‬ ‫כי ביום אכלך ממנו מות תמות‬

You may freely eat of every tree of the garden; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die.

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The deeply anchored understanding of God as a lawgiver has perhaps made this notion so commonplace in scholarship that biblical interpreters do not recognize it as a historical problem.1 The best way to clarify this point is to look into the history of scholarship. Over the last four decades in Hebrew Bible studies, three major developments have been responsible for highlighting the notion of divine legislation in the Pentateuch as a historical problem. The first of these developments is the contextualization of the Hebrew Bible, especially its legal traditions, within the broad realm of the ancient Near East. This methodological move was inaugurated in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries by the “History of Religions” school,2 but was later neglected for a variety of reasons in the mid-twentieth century. However, over the past five decades the general increase in scholarship on ancient Near Eastern laws and the interaction between ancient Near Eastern and biblical scholars have produced detailed inquiries that show not only the commonalities, but also the differences, between Mesopotamian and ancient Israelite legal traditions.3 The second development is the departure from the once dominant approach of Albrecht Alt in the interpretation of biblical law.4 His approach was closely tied to the drawing of sharp distinctions between Canaan and Israel, which, especially since the 1990s, has become less and less plausible within biblical studies.5 The third development is the transformation of pentateuchal research that began in the mid-1970s and which – as one factor among others – brought pentateuchal theory closer to the results of the literary-historical investigation into other biblical books.6 The changes in pentateuchal studies brought this sub-discipline closer to those reconstructions of the history of religion in ancient Israel and Judah that are based not on the biblical records, but on epigraphy and archaeology. The Pentateuch’s storyline of a God who creates the world, takes care of the patriarchs, leads Israel out of Egypt and gives Moses the law on Mount Sinai does not belong at this literary history’s beginning,7 but rather toward its end.8 Accordingly, just as we do with the other roles of God (for example God as creator),9 we are justified in asking how the notion of God as a lawgiver developed within the intellectual and literary history of the Pentateuch.10 Tackling this question involves a number of obstacles. As is well known, scholarship 1

See e.g. LUX, “Hammurapi und Mose”, 112–139, 257–258. Cf. LÜDEMANN / ÖZEN, “Religionsgeschichtliche Schule”, 618–624. 3 Cf. OTTO, “Rechtsgeschichte”, 56–82. 4 ALT, Ursprünge. 5 Cf. FINKELSTEIN / NA’AMAN (eds.), Nomadism; FRITZ, Entstehung. 6 Cf. e.g. RÖMER, “Urkunden”, 2–24; idem, Einleitung, 120–168; DOZEMAN et al. (eds.), Pentateuch. 7 VON RAD, Problem; followed by NOTH, Pentateuchal Traditions. 8 See the discussion and bibliography in GERTZ, “Stellung”, 30–45. 9 Cf. SCHMID, “Schöpfung”, 71–120. 10 For the LXX see RÖSEL, “Nomothesie”, 132–150. 2

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on the Pentateuch is a contentious field with many divisions. One of these divisions pertains to the dating of pentateuchal texts. There is general agreement on one very basic statement: the Pentateuch’s narrative plays out in the second millennium BCE, but it was written in the first millennium BCE. It may be that some of its oral roots or tradition-historical backgrounds reach back to the second millennium, but its literary history belongs to the first millennium.11 But how can we know whether – or, if so, how – the Pentateuch reflects the fall of Jerusalem in 587 BCE?12 At least in European scholarship, ever since the late dating of P by Graf, Reuss, Kuenen and Wellhausen, there has not been much doubt that this post-587 date is valid at least for some portions of P,13 as well as for a series of post-P additions to the Pentateuch. However, when we observe the global discussion on the Pentateuch’s composition, it is not possible to speak of a consensus in this regard. Scholars such as Israel Knohl, Baruch Schwartz, Joel Baden, Jeffrey Stackert, William Schniedewind, Jan Joosten and others assign the Pentateuch largely – with some exceptions – to the monarchic period.14 From such a perspective, the fall of Jerusalem would have had its impact on a Pentateuch that was either mostly or entirely complete. In order to approach the question of whether or not the Pentateuch presupposes the fall of Jerusalem, four basic observations are in order.15 Three of these seem to support the assumption that the Pentateuch presupposes this event, and one seems to point in the opposite direction. Of course, as always in biblical studies, such observations are never completely inevitable in nature, but remain to some extent debatable. Otherwise we would not have such divergent conclusions in scholarship. Yet it remains our task to assess and discuss the evidence in order to get a clearer notion of the history of the Pentateuch. 11

See the overview in SCHMID, “Pentateuch”, 239–271. Cf. e.g. STECK, Old Testament, 143–150. 13 See the standard text assignments by ELLIGER, “Sinn”, 121–143; LOHFINK, “Priesterschrift”, 183–225; OTTO, “Forschungen zur Priesterschrift”, 1–50. There is debate regarding the original end of P, especially in the wake of PERLITT, “Priesterschrift im Deuteronomium?”, 123–143. Proposals include seeing the literary end either at Exod 29 (OTTO, “Forschungen zur Priesterschrift”); Exod 40 (POLA, Priesterschrift; KRATZ, Komposition, 102–117; BAUKS, “Signification”, 29–45); Lev 9 (ZENGER, “Priesterschrift”, 435–446; idem, Einleitung, 156–175); Lev 16 (KÖCKERT, Leben, 105; NIHAN, Priestly Torah, 20–68); or Num 27 (SKA, “Récit”, 631–653). A staggering of endings within the Priestly document between Exod 40 and Lev 26 is suggested by GERTZ (ed.), Grundinformation, 236. FREVEL, Blick, supports the traditional conclusion in Deut 34 (cf. SCHMIDT, Studien, 271; WEIMAR, Studien, 17). BLENKINSOPP, “Structure of P”, 275–292; LOHFINK, “Priesterschrift”, 183–225; KNAUF, “Priesterschrift”, 101–118; GUILLAUME, Land and Calendar, sees the conclusion of Pg in Joshua. For arguments against P as a source in Exodus see BERNER, Exoduserzählung (see, however, my “Review”, 292–294); ALBERTZ, Exodus 1–18, 10–26. WÖHRLE, Fremdlinge, holds a similar position for Gen 12–50. 14 Cf. e.g. KNOHL, Sanctuary; STACKERT, Prophet, 31–35. 15 See also the discussion in SKA, Introduction, 184–187; RÖMER, “Naissance”, 21–43. 12

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2. Is the Torah an Exilic Document? The four observations just mentioned are the following: First, the Torah plays out mostly outside the land of Israel. Of course, the ancestors in the book of Genesis already dwell within the land, but they are called “strangers”. Bracketing the question of the extent to which the Torah’s content is fictitious, it seems to address and presuppose an audience acquainted with life in the diaspora. As David J. A. Clines once put it: “The Torah is an exilic document in terms of its content, regardless of how one dates its texts”.16 In this respect, it is especially noteworthy that Israel’s laws are given outside the land. The law in the Pentateuch is apparently not tied to the land, a point highlighted even more through the prominent placement of the Decalogue in Exod 20 and Deut 5, serving as a prologue to the laws both of Sinai and Transjordan, and which may be observed everywhere in the diaspora, not just in Israel’s homeland. Secondly, in political terms, the Pentateuch is basically a republican document, not a monarchic one. While the Pentateuch’s laws deal with many things, they hardly ever address issues surrounding a king. The only exception is the law of the king in the book of Deuteronomy. But, significantly, this text presents the choice of a king as an option that Israel may or may not take (according to Deut 17:14–15): “When [‫ ]כי‬you have come into the land … and you say, ‘I will set a king over me, like all the nations that are around me’, you may indeed set over you a king …”.17 We are not left with the impression that the Torah is concerned primarily with kingship and monarchy. This political observation is, of course, consistent with the Torah’s narrative setting – well before the establishment of kingship in Israel and Judah – but it is also consistent with the text’s having a post-monarchic production milieu and audience. Thirdly, the laws of the Pentateuch are interpreted as God’s laws.18 This point is the chief topic of the present article. According to the Torah, God is Israel’s lawgiver. This feature is striking in light of the ancient Near Eastern notion that gods are not directly involved in the process of legislation, especially not as the immediate source of the laws. Legislation is the natural task of kings, not of gods. Nevertheless, it is difficult to determine precisely how ancient Near Eastern legal texts interpret the relation between gods, kings and the law. Jacob Finkelstein once put it this way: What the god “gives” the king is not “laws” but the gift of perception of kittum, by virtue of which the king, in distinction from any other individual, becomes capable of promulgating laws that are in accord or harmony with the cosmic principle of kittum.19 16

CLINES, Theme, 103–104. On this text, see RÖMER, “Deutéronome 17”, 99–111, for a date in the Persian period (here 104–105); see also KNOPPERS, “Deuteronomist”, 329–346; LEVINSON, “Reconceptualization”, 511–543. 18 Cf. BRAGUE, Law of God. 19 In a note appended to GREENBERG, “Some Postulates”. This is cited by PAUL, Studies, 7. Cf. OTTO, “Recht und Ethos”, 91–109, 105. 17

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An apt illustration of these relationships is available in the epilogue to the Codex Hammurabi, where Hammurabi states: “I, Hammurabi, am a righteous king [šàr mi-ša-rim]; to me Shamash has granted the eternal truths / rights [ki-na-tim]”. Hammurabi is neither the author nor the source of kinatu, but rather receives them from Shamash. But Shamash himself seems not to be considered the ultimate source of kinatum. In the inscription of Yaḫdun-Lim, king of Mari, the king writes in his introduction: “To Shamash, the king of the heavens and the earth, the magistrate of gods and men, whose allotted portion is righteousness [me-še-rum] to whom truths / rights [ki-na-tum] have been granted as a gift”. Apparently, kinatu is considered to have a meta-divine origin, with Shamash himself being not the source, but rather a recipient of kinatu. To be clear, though, the texts I have just quoted cannot be used to reconstruct a singular ancient Near Eastern conception of the relationship between laws and gods. Since the Torah is anchored in a pre-monarchic narrative setting, it would, of course, have been impossible to develop the notion of a royal lawgiver other than God, the only and real king of Israel. Nevertheless, the divine origin of Israel’s laws is a very distinctive feature of the Torah that does not immediately support an exclusively monarchic dating of its texts. Fourthly, the Hebrew of the Torah is what most scholars deem to be Classical or Standard Biblical Hebrew, as opposed to Early or Late Biblical Hebrew. With comparative reference to the corpus of epigraphical Hebrew texts from the monarchic period, some scholars conclude that, based on its linguistic character, the Pentateuch is basically a preexilic document. The most recent argument along these lines is Gary A. Rendsburg’s entry on “Linguistic Layers in the Pentateuch” in the Encyclopedia of Hebrew Language and Linguistics. He comes to the following conclusion: In sum, the main body of the Torah is written in Standard Biblical Hebrew, which represents the language of Judah during the monarchy (both early and late). A few chapters employ the technique known as style-switching, in order to create an Aramean environment. Some poems within the prose text reflect an older stratum of Hebrew and may hark back to a poetic epic tradition. And a few passages, especially those concerning the northern tribes, contain elements of Israelian Hebrew. Most importantly, there are no indications of Late Biblical Hebrew in the Pentateuch.20

Of course, Rendsburg’s conclusion is at odds with other basic observations made earlier in this paper. Yet despite his argument, the indisputable fact that the Torah is written in Standard Biblical Hebrew does not necessarily lead to the conclusion that its texts are preexilic in origin. This issue is a very complicated and delicate matter.21 But from the perspective of Pentateuch scholarship, several aspects come to mind that deserve consideration. 20

RENDSBURG, “Pentateuch”, 60–63, here 63. Some more recent contributions to the discussion of linguistic dating include KIM, Early Biblical Hebrew; MILLER-NAUDÉ / ZEVIT (eds.), Diachrony; HORNKOHL, “Biblical Hebrew”, vol. 1, 315–325; REZETKO / YOUNG, Linguistics. 21

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First, the fact that a text is written in Standard or Classical Biblical Hebrew (CBH) and not in Late Biblical Hebrew (LBH) informs us primarily about its theological position within the biblical tradition and not, or at least not directly, about its historical date of composition. To oversimplify for a moment: CBH texts are mainly Torah-orientated, whereas LBH texts are not, at least not to the same extent. Secondly, there is a significant gap in the external, non-biblical corpora for Hebrew from the sixth to second centuries BCE. Although there are many inscriptions from that period, they are in Aramaic, not Hebrew. Therefore, the external evidence does not enable us to define a clear terminus ante quem for CBH. The terminus ante quem could be in the sixth century, but it could also be later. Thirdly, there is a basic asymmetry between the methods that linguists use for dating CBH texts, on the one hand, and LBH texts, on the other. According to them, biblical texts written in CBH belong to the timeframe of the eighth to sixth centuries because the matching external evidence dates to that period. The external evidence for LBH consists mainly of the texts from the Dead Sea from the second and first centuries BCE, but the biblical texts written in LBH, such as Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, Daniel and Esther, are dated much earlier by the linguists because these texts are – for a variety of reasons at least in part – obviously older than the second or first century. Therefore, as a minimum, the arguments regarding LBH show that a multitude of positions need to be considered when dating biblical texts, and what seems fair for LBH should also be accepted for CBH. Fourthly, the absence of Persian loanwords is an important argument among those who favour a generally preexilic date for the Pentateuch. The reasoning is that, if the Pentateuch were to contain texts from the Persian period, then one would expect to find Persian loanwords, of which there are none. But how significant is this point? 22 To begin with, there are very few Persian loanwords in the Hebrew Bible as a whole.23 So, admittedly, no Persian loanword is to be found in the Pentateuch. But why should we expect otherwise? It is necessary here to invoke the specific narrative setting of the Pentateuch: The Pentateuch plays out basically in the second millennium BCE, in the period before David, Solomon, the Assyrians, the Babylonians and, of course, the Persians. The Pentateuch’s awareness of this historicized scenery is most clearly evident from the fact that the Pentateuch refrains from mentioning Jerusalem, especially in Gen 22 and Deuteronomy. Hence, Persian loanwords are not to be expected in so far as the Pentateuch employs a language corresponding to its narrative setting. 22

ESKHULT, “Importance”, 8–23. See e.g., ‫ אדרכן‬ʾăḏarḵōn “Daric” (Ezra 8:27; 1 Chr 29.7); ‫ אחשדרפנים‬ʾăḥašdarpənīm “satraps” (e.g., Esth 8:9); ‫גזבר‬, gizbår “treasurer” (Ezra 1:8); ‫ גנזים‬gənåzīm “treasury” (e.g., Esth 3:9); ‫ גנזך‬ganzaḵ “treasury” (1 Chr 28:11); ‫ דת‬dåṯ “command, decree” (e.g., Esth 1:13); ‫ פתגם‬piṯḡå̄ m “edict, sentence” (Qoh 8:11; Esth 1:20); ‫ פתשגן‬paṯšεḡεn “copy” (e.g., Esth 3:14). Cf. HURVITZ, “Biblical Hebrew”, 329–338, here 331. 23

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A fifth argument by Hebraists for an early (i.e. preexilic) dating of CBH texts is the idea that it would have been impossible to reproduce CBH in later times without slip-ups. The problem with this argument is a fundamental methodological one: it is a priori and thus not falsifiable. That is, the argument holds that if a biblical text is written in clear and flawless CBH, then it is by definition preexilic, because, had the text been composed later, it would not be in correct CBH. In such an argument, the possibility of a late text in correct CBH is excluded as impossible from the outset. Indeed, it simply begs the question to view CBH as being copy-safe. Of course, languages evolve over time, but in a learned elite idiom such as CBH, a certain inertness is likely. All in all, I would not altogether deny the validity of using a linguistic approach for dating the Pentateuch, but I would strongly advise against using linguistic criteria alone for issues of dating, let alone for determining the Pentateuch’s overall preexilic origin. The linguistic approach belongs in conjunction with other data and perspectives, such as theological or ideological profiles, intertextual links and archaeological information. While I cannot speak on the archaeological data, I can and will address the ideological profiles of the Pentateuch.24 This paper has already made some basic observations in this regard and will now focus on the third point identified above as hinting at the Torah’s exilic shaping: namely, the notion that its laws are God’s laws.

3. The Notion of Divine Legislation in the Pentateuch as a Historical Problem First, a possible misunderstanding of this article’s title needs to be corrected. This paper does not argue that the notion of divine legislation originated only and exclusively after the fall of Jerusalem and is, as such, to be conceived as an entirely post-monarchic intellectual development in the legal history of ancient Israel. The main reason for this decision is the dating of Deuteronomy’s literary core – originally probably a freestanding literary unit presenting its laws as God’s laws – to the late monarchic period of Judah. Of course, such a dating of the “Ur-Deuteronomium” is contested, but nevertheless still possible, and even more widely accepted than an exilic setting.25 Norbert Lohfink’s famous question: “Das Deuteronomium: Jahwegesetz oder Mosegesetz?” is thereby, for our purposes, of lesser significance, because even if one decides that the fiction of Mosaic authorship belongs to Deuteronomy’s 24

Cf. SCHMID, Old Testament. On this new “Kampf um das Deuteronomium” (BAUMGARTNER, “Kampf”, 7–25), see PAKKALA, “Date”, 388–401 (following KRATZ, “Ort”, 101–120); MACDONALD, “Issues”, 431–435; PAKKALA, “Dating of Deuteronomy”, 431–436. 25

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original literary shape, then the first person of Moses in Deuteronomy is a prophetic one.26 Even in this case, Moses does not just speak in his own capacity, but as God’s prophet, so the first person of Moses is transparent to the first person of God. This probable setting of Deuteronomy’s literary core in the late seventh century BCE is the reason why this paper is on “Divine Legislation in the Pentateuch in its Late Judean and Neo-Babylonian Context”. In what follows, the non-pentateuchal notions of divine legislation in the Hebrew Bible will be described, in order to get an initial impression of the literary and historical contexts in which this concept is mentioned or not mentioned, as well as to see how these findings have been evaluated in the history of scholarship. This paper will then turn to the law collections in the Pentateuch, especially the Covenant Code, discussing its redactional framing of older law collections interpreting them as God’s laws. Finally, some historical explanations for the development of the notion of a divine lawgiver in Israel and Judah in its ancient Near Eastern context will be offered.

4. Sinai and God’s Legislation on Sinai outside the Pentateuch It is not possible to discuss here all possible references to divine legislation in the Hebrew Bible, though it needs to be highlighted from the outset that, if one were to concentrate on the Sinai legislation, this task would not be too difficult. It could suffice just to consult Martin Noth’s Überlieferungsgeschichte des Pentateuch and see what he has to say about the theme “Offenbarung am Sinai” (revelation at Sinai). Indeed, the lawgiving at Sinai is only mentioned rarely outside the Pentateuch, and this is mostly in literary contexts that do not belong to the earliest layers of biblical literature. A very traditional observation is that the earliest non-pentateuchal reference to the lawgiving at Sinai in its narrative context of the Exodus story is Neh 9:13–14. ‫ועל הר־סיני ירדת‬ ‫ודבר עמהם משמים‬ ‫ותתן להם משפטים ישרים‬ ‫ותורות אמת‬ ‫חקים ומצות טובים‬ ‫ואת־שבת קדשך הודעת להם‬ ‫ומצוות וחקים ותורה‬ ‫צוית להם‬ ‫ביד משה עבדך‬

And you came down also upon Mount Sinai, and spoke with them from heaven, and gave them right ordinances and true laws, good statutes and commandments, and you made known your holy sabbath to them and commandments and statutes and a law you commanded them through your servant Moses.

Ps 106:19 also mentions the Sinai viz. Horeb, but only the incident of the golden calf, not the lawgiving: 26

LOHFINK, “Deuteronomium”, 387–391.

Divine Legislation

‫יעשו־עגל בחרב‬ ‫וישתחוו למסכה‬

137

And they made a calf at Horeb, and they worshipped a cast image.

Conversely, Ezek 20:10–11 mentions the lawgiving, but not Mount Sinai. The lawgiving takes place in the desert (‫)ואבאם אל־המדבר‬, so it is, of course, possible that Mount Sinai may be in view. Nonetheless, it remains conspicuous that it is not mentioned explicitly.27 Consistent with this scarce evidence are the famous references to Sinai in Judg 5:4–5, Hab 3:3 and Ps 68:8, all of which are entirely silent about the law but which invoke God’s theophany there or from there. Usually, these texts are considered to be early, or at least to rely on early traditions.28 Pfeiffer has argued to the contrary,29 but his position has been heavily and, to my mind, rightly criticized by Leuenberger.30 ‫יהוה בצאתך משעיר‬ ‫בצעדך משדה אדום‬ ‫ארץ רעשה‬ ‫גם־שמים נטפו‬ ‫גם־עבים נטפו מים‬ ‫הרים נזלו מפני יהוה‬ ‫זה סיני מפני יהוה אלהי ישראל‬

YHWH, when you went out from Seir, when you marched from the region of Edom, the earth trembled, and the heavens poured, the clouds indeed poured water. The mountains quaked before YHWH, the one of Sinai, before YHWH, the God of Israel.

Judg 5:4–5

‫אלוה מתימן יבוא‬ ‫וקדוש מהר־פארן סלה‬ ‫כסה שמים הודו‬ ‫ותהלתו מלאה הארץ‬

God came from Teman, the Holy One from Mount Paran. Selah His glory covered the heavens, and the earth was full of his praise.

Hab 3:3

‫אלהים בצאתך לפני עמך‬ ‫בצעדך בישימון סלה‬ ‫ארץ רעשה‬ ‫אף־שמים נטפו‬ ‫מפני אלהים זה סיני‬ ‫מפני אלהים אלהי ישראל‬

O God, when you went out before your people, when you marched through the wilderness, Selah the earth quaked, the heavens poured down rain at the presence of God, the one of Sinai, at the presence of God, the God of Israel.

Ps 68:8–9

What can we glean from this very preliminary and sketchy picture? Nothing reliable, of course, because the far-reaching silence about the lawgiving at 27

See the discussion in KRÜGER, Geschichtskonzepte, 199–274. Cf. discussion in KEEL, Geschichte Jerusalems. See for Judg 5 especially KNAUF, “Deborah’s Language”, 677–690. 29 Cf. PFEIFFER, Jahwes Kommen. See also idem, “Herkunft”, 11–43. 30 LEUENBERGER, “Jhwhs Herkunft”, 1–19. 28

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Sinai outside the Pentateuch would, first of all, constitute a mere argumentum e silentio regarding its literary and historical anchoring in the Pentateuch. But these observations nevertheless require explanation and, as a glance into the history of scholarship reveals, such an argument is not completely worthless.

5. The Historical Interpretation of the Divine Legislation at Sinai in the History of Scholarship In early twentieth-century scholarship, the rather isolated position of the lawgiving at Sinai in the Hebrew Bible was evaluated in terms of the Sinai tradition and the Exodus tradition as having different tradition-historical origins.31 For example, Gerhard von Rad associated the Exodus and the Sinai tradition with two different festivals that were located at two different venues.32 They [the Sinai events] seem to have formed a tradition unto themselves which existed independently of that scheme [of the salvation history from the creation to the conquest of the land] and was only linked to it very late.33

But his theory presupposed what it actually needed to demonstrate beforehand: the oldness of the Sinai tradition and the notion of divine legislation associated with that location. However, until the late 1960s it was unthinkable that the lawgiving at Sinai and the covenant established there between God and his people would not belong to the bedrock, the “Urgestein”, of ancient Israelite religion. For instance, in von Rad’s Theology of the Old Testament dating from 1957, he held that, without exception, all laws of the Pentateuch presuppose the notion of a covenant between God and people, as reported in the Sinai texts. At any rate, the close link between ordinances and covenant needs to be kept in view. All of Israel’s laws, indeed, presuppose the covenant as an already established community between Yahweh and Israel, and a sacred institution.34

Von Rad made this statement in 1957, twelve years before Lothar Perlitt’s Bundestheologie im Alten Testament was published. Perlitt’s Habilitationsschrift was a major caesura in the historical interpretation both of the notion of covenant and the intellectual framework of the Hebrew Bible’s legal traditions. 31

Cf. the analysis of the history of scholarship in NICHOLSON, Exodus. See also NOTH, Überlieferungsgeschichte, 63–67. 33 VON RAD, Problem, 20: “Diese [die Sinaiereignisse] scheinen demnach eine Tradition für sich gebildet zu haben, die unabhängig von jenem Schema [der Heilsgeschichte von der Schöpfung bis zur Landnahme] bestand und sich erst sehr spät mit ihm verbunden hat.” 34 VON RAD, Theologie, vol. 1, 207: “Unter allen Umständen muss die enge Verbindung zwischen Geboten und Bund im Auge behalten werden. Alle Gesetze Israels setzen ja den Bund als eine zwischen Jahwe und Israel zustandegekommene Gemeinschaft und sakrale Institution schon voraus.” 32

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139

The first observation is as old as it is important: the Sinai pericope, even in its latest shape, evokes the impression of a major insertion into the context.35

His dating of the covenant theology to the seventh century coincided with Frankena’s,36 Dion’s and Weinfeld’s37 proposals in the 1960s and early 1970s to interpret Deuteronomy’s notion of covenant in light of Neo-Assyrian vassal treaties, a view that nowadays is fairly well accepted. Interestingly enough, Perlitt quotes Frankena’s and Weinfeld’s work, but does not really evaluate them substantially in his Bundestheologie. The loose connection between the Sinai texts and the surrounding Exodus narrative was also noticed by Wellhausen and others in their days: It seems as though the pilgrimage to Sinai had no place at all in the oldest saga. An outline appears through it according to which the Israelites immediately after the exodus from Egypt travelled to Kades and remained there for the forty years of their sojourn in the desert. The digression to a point [i.e. Sinai] that is so distant from the actual destination of the wanderers is unnatural enough.38

But the Sinai pericope was not deemed just to be a late, redactional insertion. Rather, as texts such as Judg 5, Ps 68, Hab 3 and Deut 33 suggest, Wellhausen contended that: The true and ancient significance of Sinai is entirely independent from the lawgiving. It was the dwelling of divinity, the holy mountain.39

The transition from the holy mountain to the station of the lawgiving was, according to Wellhausen, established by the Jehovist. 35

PERLITT, Bundestheologie, 156: “Die erste Beobachtung ist eine ebenso alte wie gewichtige: Die Sinaiperikope erweckt selbst in ihrer jüngsten Gestalt den Eindruck eines gewaltigen Einschubs in den Kontext.” 36 FRANKENA, Vassal-Treaties of Esarhaddon, 122–154. 37 Cf. WEINFELD, “Traces”, 417–427. 38 WELLHAUSEN, Israelitische, 12: “Es scheint, als ob die Wallfahrt zum Sinai in der ältesten Sage überhaupt keine Stelle gehabt habe. Es schimmert eine Form derselben durch, wonach die Israeliten sofort nach dem Ausbruch aus Ägypten auf Kades zogen und dort die vierzig Jahre ihres Aufenthalts in der Wüste verblieben. Unnatürlich genug ist die Digression nach einem Punkte, der so weit von dem eigentlichen Ziel der Ausgewanderten ablag.” Cf. also idem, Prolegomena, 357–358: “Im Jehovisten scheint noch eine Form der Überlieferung durch, in welcher die Israeliten, sofort nach dem Durchgange durchs Schilfmeer auf Kades zogen und nicht erst den Abstecher zum Sinai machten. Während wir erst in Ex. 19 zum Sinai gelangen, befinden wir uns schon in Ex. 17 zu Massa und Meriba, d.h. auf dem Boden von Kades .... Darum kehren auch die Erzählungen, die vor der Ankunft am Sinai berichtet werden, nach dem Aufbruch von dort noch einmal wieder, weil das Lokal vorher und nachher das gleiche ist …. Das besagt mit anderen Worten, dass die Israeliten nicht erst nach der Digression zum Sinai, sondern sofort nach dem Auszuge in Kades, dem ursprünglichen Ziel ihrer Wanderung, anlangten.” See, similarly, VON RAD, Problem, 20–21; and idem, Theologie, vol. 1, 189. 39 WELLHAUSEN, Prolegomena, 342: “Die wahre und alte Bedeutung des Sinai ist ganz unabhängig von der Gesetzgebung. Er war der Sitz der Gottheit, der heilige Berg.”

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The Jehovist is here more than a redactor, he can be deemed as the actual author of the pericope of lawgiving on Sinai. Otherwise he stands back behind his sources. Here, he follows them verbally to a large extent, but only in so far as he needs them as material for his own construction. 40

Nevertheless, the Pentateuch’s present shape apparently indicates how loose the connection is between the Sinai texts and its contexts. In the first half of the twentieth century, scholars such as Eissfeldt and von Rad offered their own, not always or immediately convincing, thoughts on this observation: Although the memory of these events [at Sinai] always remained alive in Israel, after the settlement in Canaan the connection to Sinai quickly became loose. 41 The merging of the Sinai tradition into the tradition of the conquest of the land was the particular venture of the Yahwist to which people remained unaccustomed for a long time; only around the time of exile did this connection become popular. 42

Of course, these explanations reflect the familiar image of Israel’s salvation history as constituting the basic feature of biblical faith. Today, scholars no longer unanimously presuppose this image in their literary-historical reconstructions. The creedal formulation in Deut 26:5–9 can no longer serve as a literary-historical basis for that image, nor do reconstructions of ancient Israel and Judah’s history of religion support it.43 It is therefore likely that the literary anchoring of God’s laws at Mount Sinai in the exodus story not only became “popular” in the time of the exile, but also that this literary anchoring did not emerge much earlier than that. In order to explore this point more closely, let us turn now to what is presumably the earliest body of texts in the Pentateuch that includes divine laws, the so-called Covenant Code. Its dating is, of course, contested and its texts developed over a period of time. But its literary core probably presupposes the earliest prophetic books and transforms their social message into legal stipulations. Furthermore, it is presupposed by Deuteronomy, which reworks the Covenant Code in terms of a centralized cult, as William Morrow, Bernard Levinson, Eckart Otto and others have shown.44 40 WELLHAUSEN, Composition, 94–95: “Der Jehovist ist hier mehr als Redaktor, er kann als der eigentliche Verfasser des Abschnittes von der Gesetzgebung auf Sinai gelten. Während er sonst ganz hinter seinen Quellen zurücktritt, teilt er sie zwar auch hier grossenteils wörtlich mit, aber doch so, dass er sie nur als Material zu dem eigenen Bau benutzt.” 41 EIßFELDT, “Sinai”, 44: “Obwohl die Erinnerung an diese Vorgänge [sc. am Sinai] in Israel immer wach geblieben ist, ist seit seiner Seßhaftwerdung in Kanaan die Verbindung mit dem S.[inai] schnell locker geworden.” 42 Cf. VON RAD, Problem, 61: “[D]ie Verschmelzung der Sinaitradition in die Landnahmeüberlieferung war das freie Wagnis des Jahwisten, an das man sich noch lange Zeiten darnach nicht gewöhnen konnte; erst um die Zeit des Exils ist diese Verbindung populär geworden.” See the critique by PERLITT, Bundestheologie, 159. 43 Cf. GERTZ, “Stellung”, 30–45. 44 Cf. MORROW, Scribing; OTTO, Das Deuteronomium; LEVINSON, Deuteronomy.

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6. The Process of Theologizing the Laws in the Covenant Code and Deuteronomy Since the late 1990s, especially in the wake of Eckart Otto’s Wandel der Rechtsbegründungen and Ludger Schwienhorst-Schönberger’s dissertation, it has become fairly well accepted in scholarship that the so-called Covenant Code consists of earlier, smaller, literarily independent law collections that include the stipulations on capital punishment in Exod 21:12–17, the stipulations on bodily injuries in Exod 21:18–32 and the stipulations concerning objects in Exod 21:33– 22:14.45 Apparently these collections were not originally conceived as God’s law. This later conception of them resulted from what is now their textual frame of Exod 20:24–26 and Exod 22:17–26, which are passages addressing the reader in the second person and occasionally using the first person of God. By contrast, the core passages of the Covenant Code are in the third person, and no divine speaker is apparent within them.46 The addition of Exod 20:24–2647 and Exod 22:17–26 played a crucial role in the process of theologizing these laws.48 The first text, especially, the so-called altar law, is important in terms of dating, since Deut 12 presupposes and reworks it, as Bernard Levinson and others have pointed out. Deut 12 may serve as a terminus ante quem for Exod 20:24–26. The reinterpretation of the Covenant Code through its prefacing by the altar law is therefore a pre-Deuteronomic feature. Consequently, there is much to the proposal of Eckart Otto that the 45

SCHWIENHORST-SCHÖNBERGER, Bundesbuch. For a different approach see OSUMI, Kompositionsgeschichte. 46 “Das ‘Bundesbuch’ wurde aus kleineren, ursprünglich literarisch selbständigen Sammlungen redigiert, so einer Sammlung des gentilen Todesrechts in Ex 21,12–17 …, einer Sammlung des Körperverletzungsrecht in Ex 21,18–32 sowie einer Sammlung des Sachenrechts in Ex 21,33–22,14. Diese Sammlungen aus der judäischen Schreiber- und Richterausbildung der vorexilischen Zeit wurden in einer ersten priesterlich-theologischen Redaktion in Ex 20,24–22,26* unter dem Aspekt, JHWH als Königsgott sei Rechtsquelle und gnädiger Rechtshelfer der Armen, zu einem Programm eines von JHWH gegebenen Rechts zusammengefügt. Die sozialen Bruchlinien der judäischen Gesellschaft wurden zum Einfallstor der Theologisierung des Rechts …, das nun auf den Gotteswillen als Rechtsquelle zurückgeführt wurde, nicht aber mehr wie im mesopotamischen Recht auf den König als den Repräsentanten des Staates. Mit der Theologisierung des Rechts im ‘Bundesbuch’ wird durch unmittelbare Rückführung auf JHWH einer zunächst noch kleinräumigen Rechtssammlung eine Bewegung in Gang gebracht, die mit der Unterstellung der gesamten Tora unter den Gotteswillen in nachexilischer Zeit zu ihrem Ziel kommt. Noch ist die Hermeneutik, die der Theologisierung des Rechts im ‘Bundesbuch’ zugrunde liegt, denkbar einfach, ergreift doch hier im Abschluss in Ex 22,17–26* und ihrem Anfang in Ex 20,24–26 mit dem Altargesetz JHWH selbst das Wort.” (OTTO, Deuteronomium 1,1–4,43, 231f.). See also idem, “Profanrecht”, 421–427. 47 JOOSTEN, “Syntax”, 3–8; JOHNSTONE, “Exodus 20.24b”, 207–222; SCHMITT, “Altargesetz”, 269–282. 48 Cf. ALBERTZ, “Theologisierung”, 187–207.

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process of theologizing the law started already in the preexilic period. If one looks at Exod 22:17–26, this process seems specifically to have been triggered by the need for care for poor and socially disadvantaged persons, a concern which, in turn, may have resulted from major socio-economic shifts in seventh-century Judah, perhaps including the fall of Samaria.49 Because this care for the disadvantaged is usually the king’s responsibility, it becomes immediately obvious that the divinization of these laws implies a critical stance towards Judean kingship. The redactional technique that was used seems fairly elementary: the stipulations are formulated in the second person singular, thus implying that God is the speaker. But it is by no means clear whether all second-person singular passages belong to the same literary layer. ‫מכשפה לא תחיה‬ ‫כל־שכב עם־בהמה מות יומת‬ ‫זבח לאלהים יחרם‬ ‫בלתי ליהוה לבדו‬ ‫וגר לא־תונה ולא תלחצנו‬ ‫כי־גרים הייתם בארץ מצרים‬ ‫כל־אלמנה ויתום לא תענון‬ ‫אם־ענה תענה אתו‬ ‫כי אם־צעק יצעק אלי‬ ‫שמע אשמע צעקתו‬ ‫וחרה אפי‬ ‫והרגתי אתכם בחרב‬ ‫והיו נשיכם אלמנות‬ ‫ובניכם יתמים‬ ‫אם־כסף תלוה את־עמי‬ ‫את־העני עמך‬ ‫לא־תהיה לו כנשה‬ ‫לא־תשימון עליו נשך‬ ‫אם־חבל תחבל שלמת רעך‬ ‫עד־בא השמש תשיבנו לו‬ ‫כי הוא כסותה לבדה‬ ‫הוא שמלתו לערו‬ ‫במה ישכב‬ ‫והיה כי־יצעק אלי‬ ‫ושמעתי כי־חנון אני‬

17 You shall not let live a sorceress. 18 Whoever lies with an animal shall be put to death. 19 Whoever sacrifices to any god, other than YHWH alone, shall be destroyed. 20 You shall not wrong or oppress a resident alien, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt. 21 You shall not abuse any widow or orphan. 22 If you do abuse them, when they cry out to me, I will surely heed their cry; 23 my wrath will burn, and I will kill you with the sword, and your wives shall become widows and your children orphans. 24 If you lend money to my people, to the poor among you, you shall not deal with them as a creditor; you shall not exact interest from them. 25 If you take your neighbour’s cloak in pawn, you shall restore it before the sun goes down; 26 for it may be your neighbour’s only clothing to use as cover; in what else shall that person sleep? And if he cries out to me, I will listen, for I am compassionate.

Exod 22:17–26

Some verses in this significant passage contain hints regarding the possible ideological backgrounds and origins of the introduction of the second person of God. First, the opening passage in 22:17–18 is conspicuous: ‫מכשפה לא תחיה‬ ‫כל־שכב עם־בהמה מות יומת‬ 49

Cf. KESSLER, Staat.

17 You shall not let live a sorceress. 18 Whoever lies with an animal shall be put to death.

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143

The prohibition of sodomy is formulated in the third person, the law regarding the sorceress in the second person. This might lead to the assumption that the religiously connotative regulation is more conducive to being shaped as divine law than the sodomy case. But this assumption remains uncertain, especially because the prohibition in 22:19 against sacrificing to gods other than YHWH is a third-person stipulation. More conclusive is Exod 22:21f., 25f., since God reveals himself here in the first person as the speaker of these laws that focus on widows, orphans and the poor.50 These verses apparently complement the existing traditional legal stipulations in the Covenant Code with the “ethical” notion of caring for those without legal protection, and for this reason they introduce God as the lawgiver. It is also discernible that the inclusion of these regulations in the Covenant Code seems influenced by early prophetic tradition. What the prophets claimed as social justice, the Covenant stipulates as law.51 For example, compare Amos 2:6–8 with the statement of divine law (in the second person) in Exod 22:24–26: Amos 2:6–8

Exod 22:24–26

Thus says the Lord: for three transgressions of Israel, and for four, I will not revoke the punishment; because they sell the righteous for silver, and the needy for a pair of sandals – they who trample the head of the poor into the dust of the earth, and push the afflicted out of the way … they lay themselves down beside every altar on garments taken in pledge; and in the house of their God they drink wine bought with fines they imposed.

If you lend money to [one of] my people, to the poor among you, you shall not deal with them as a creditor; you shall not exact interest from them. If you take your neighbour’s cloak in pawn, you shall restore it before the sun goes down; for it may be your neighbour’s only clothing to use as cover; in what else shall that person sleep? And if your neighbour cries out to me, I will listen, for I am compassionate.

The case of Deuteronomy is especially complicated because of its Mosaic outlook. The book’s laws are now presented as Mosaic laws, which presupposes the Deuteronomic law’s narrative embedding within the great Exodus-Sinai story.52 In his farewell speech in Transjordan, Moses promulgates the laws that he received from God beforehand on Mount Sinai and, in a complex hermeneutical procedure, the readers of Deuteronomy are identified with the Exodus generation whom Moses addresses in Deut 5. As mentioned already, this shaping is probably not original to the laws of Deuteronomy. As Lohfink has pointed out, Deut 6:17 and Deut 28:45 in particular conceptualize the laws of Deuteronomy explicitly as God’s laws, which supports the assumption that the portrayal of Moses as promulgating Deuteronomy’s laws has resulted from a reworking of the text. 50

KRATZ, Komposition, 147. Cf. DEARMAN, Property Rights, 147–148. 52 According to KRATZ, “Ort”, 101–120, there never was a literarily independent Deuteronomy detached from the Exodus story. 51

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‫ובאו עליך כל־הקללות האלה‬ ‫ורדפוך והשיגוך‬ ‫עד השמדך‬ ‫כי־לא שמעת בקול יהוה אלהיך‬ ‫לשמר מצותיו וחקתיו‬ ‫אשר צוך‬

All these curses shall come upon you, pursuing and overtaking you until you are destroyed, because you did not obey YHWH your God, by keeping the commandments and the decrees that he commanded you.

Deut 28:45

‫שמור תשמרון‬ ‫את־מצות יהוה אלהיכם‬ ‫ועדתיו וחקיו‬ ‫אשר צוך‬

You must diligently keep the commandments of YHWH your God, and his decrees, and his statutes that he has commanded you.

Deut 6:17

Thus, Moses as the legislator, or at least the mediator, of the law is not an original feature of Deuteronomy, but instead resulted from its redactional mediation with the Sinai legislation once the Deuteronomic law had become part of the large story of Israel’s exodus from Egypt, which included the legislation at Mount Sinai. Altogether, then, Deuteronomy attests to the notion of divine lawgiving from the outset, probably as a result of its taking up this concept from the reworked and still preexilic Covenant Code.

7. Tradition-Historical and Literary-Historical Precursors to God as Lawgiver in the Hebrew Bible What were the basic historical factors that triggered the notion of divine law in the Hebrew Bible? Eckart Otto, in particular, has convincingly argued that the origins of this process had to do with the experience of social injustice in Israelite and Judean society during the late eighth and early seventh centuries.53 In addition, some more indirect factors might have played a role as well. I will name four of these, at least two of which are intertwined with each other. First, legal jurisdiction in ancient Israel and Judah was traditionally quite distant from the institution of kingship, as Hans-Jochen Boecker, for example, has pointed out.54 The family and the elders were in charge of most affairs. We do not even have the clear regulation that crimes involving a capital punishment had to be decided by the king, as was the case in Mesopotamia. Second, one must take into account the solarization of God that took place once He became affiliated with Jerusalem, as Othmar Keel has argued.55 It is less certain as to whether 1 Kgs 8:12 suggests that YHWH replaced the pre-Yahwistic 53

Cf. OTTO, Wandel, 69–71. BOECKER, “Überlegungen”, 3–9. See also OTTO, “Zivile Funktionen”, 519–530. 55 KEEL, “Tempelweihspruch”, 9–23; idem, Geschichte Jerusalems; idem, “Sonne der Gerechtigkeit”, 215–218. 54

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sun god in the temple.56 Be this as it may, Jerusalem traditionally had close ties with the cult of the sun, as the name of the city itself suggests, and the prominence of solar worship in Jerusalem had an impact on the development of preexilic Yahwism in Jerusalem. Why is this issue important for our question? The sun god is traditionally in charge of supervising the laws and passing them on to the kings, as we can recall from the stela of Hammurabi.57 Accordingly, the solarization of YHWH meant bringing him into an intimate connection with the fields of law and justice. This close connection is observable in texts such as the following: ‫יהוה צדיק בקרבה‬ ‫לא יעשה עולה‬ ‫בבקר בבקר משפטו יתן‬ ‫לאור לא נעדר‬ ‫ולא־יודע עול בשת‬

YHWH within her [sc. Jerusalem] is righteous; he does no wrong. Every morning he renders his judgment, each dawn without fail; but the unjust knows no shame.

Zeph 3:5

God’s righteousness is affiliated both with Jerusalem and with the rising of the sun in the morning, a topic that Bernd Janowski has dealt with extensively.58 ‫על־כן חצבתי בנביאים‬ ‫הרגתים באמרי־פי‬ ‫ומשפטיך אור יצא‬

Therefore I have hewn them by the prophets, I have killed them by the words of my mouth, and my judgment goes forth as the light.

Hos 6:5

God’s enemies are eliminated by his words, and his judgment is compared to the sunlight. Of course, these texts are not yet advancing the notion of God as a lawgiver. Here, God is both a judge and an executioner, but these texts are not far removed from the notion of divine legislation. Therefore, part of the background of portraying the biblical God as a legislator is to be found in the solar substratum of Jerusalem’s religious history. Third, and probably linked closely with this topic of solar imagery, is the notion of Jerusalem and Zion as city of justice. Isaiah 1:21–26 is a traditional piece at the beginning of the book of Isaiah that clearly exhibits this conception of Jerusalem as a “just” city.59 ‫איכה היתה לזונה קריה נאמנה‬ ‫מלאתי משפט‬ ‫צדק ילין בה‬ ‫ועתה מרצחים‬

How the faithful city has become a whore! She that was full of justice, righteousness lodged in her – but now murderers!

Isa 1:21 56

Cf. HARTENSTEIN, “Sonnengott”, 53–69; RÖSEL, “Salomo”, 402–417. See the rebuttal by KEEL, “Minima methodica”, 213–223. 57 Cf. ELSEN-NOVÁK / NOVÁK, “König”, 131–155. 58 Cf. JANOWSKI, Rettungsgewißheit; idem, “JHWH”, 214–241. 59 Cf. STECK, “Zur konzentrischen Anlage”, 97–103; SCHMID, Jesaja 1–23, 56–58.

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As YHWH resides in Jerusalem, he is the city’s God, which is likewise reflected in the manifold identifications of Jerusalem as God’s wife. This close connection between God and Zion-Jerusalem, the city of justice, is another important root of the intellectual development that resulted eventually in the notion of divine laws in the Covenant Code’s literary frame and in Deuteronomy. Especially important is the mountain symbolism traditionally associated with Zion. Consider Ps 48:11–12 as an example. ‫כשמך אלהים כן תהלתך‬ ‫על־קצוי־ארץ‬ ‫צדק מלאה ימינך‬ ‫ישמח הר־ציון‬ ‫תגלנה בנות יהודה‬ ‫למען משפטיך‬

Your name, O God, like your praise, reaches to the ends of the earth. Your right hand is filled with victory. Let Mount Zion be glad, let the towns of Judah rejoice because of your judgments.

Apparently, in the wake of the fall of Jerusalem, the notion of YHWH as the God in charge of justice on Mount Zion was transformed into the concept of the divine legislator on Mount Sinai. That is not to suggest that Mount Sinai is merely the invention of exilic authors. Mount Sinai seems to be a traditional element of the religious history of early Yahwism, as texts such as Hab 3, Judg 5, Ps 68 or Deut 33 suggest. But as Wellhausen observed, Sinai’s original function was not as the venue of lawgiving. We may therefore assume that, after the fall of Jerusalem, the Sinai tradition became more and more important, especially by and in the wake of the Priestly document’s location of the original sanctuary at Sinai.60 Fourth, one should adduce the impact of the Neo-Assyrian vassal treaties on Deuteronomy and the corresponding reworking of the Covenant Code in both form and content.61 As is well known, Deuteronomy seems to have been shaped according to a Neo-Assyrian vassal treaty, but the role of God in Deuteronomy is entirely different from those of the gods in the vassal treaties who serve as witnesses and guardians of these treaties. God as a partner in the treaty is an innovation of Deuteronomy’s literary core. And as a partner in such a treaty, specifically as the superior partner, he is a lawgiver as well. This concept was potentially inspired by what may have been an earlier development within the Covenant Code, triggered especially by the experience of social injustice. But since Deuteronomy shows the same concern for socially disadvantaged people, the two developments may belong more closely together. However, this issue seems impossible to decide. One aspect of the reception of vassal treaties has so far been underestimated – namely, the fact that the treaties are succession treaties.62 They ensure that those 60

On the notion of “Sinai” as desert and mountain in P, see SCHMID, “Sinai”, 114–127. STEYMANS, Deuteronomium 28; idem, “Eine assyrische Vorlage”, 119–141; OTTO, Treueid und Gesetz, 1–52; idem, Das Deuteronomium; idem, “Assyria”, 339–347, esp. 345. 62 STEYMANS, “Die literarische und historische Bedeutung”, 331–349. 61

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whom Esarhaddon has subdued will be loyal to his successor. If the topic of succession was crucial for these treaties, it must have played a role as well in the reception of these texts in Deuteronomy. Levinson and Stackert have proposed that we parallel the process in Deuteronomy of legal exegesis on the Covenant Code with Ashurbanipal’s succession of Esarhaddon: The Assyrian rulers – predecessor and successor – are analogized to Israelite law – old and new. Just as the retiring ruler is succeeded by the crown prince designate, so too is the existing law collection succeeded by a new law. This correlation between EST and Deuteronomy is illustrated in the following diagram:

Text

Predecessor Rule

Successor Rule

EST

Esarhaddon

Ashurbanipal

Deuteronomy

Covenant Code

Deuteronomic Law

Assyrian Royal Succession and Biblical Legal Succession 63

This proposal is an interesting one, but it might be too bold. I could rather imagine that the succession topic belongs closer to the introduction of God as lawgiver in the Covenant Code and Deuteronomy, maybe especially reflecting the loss of kingdom and statehood in 720 BCE. After the fall of Samaria, the post-monarchic situation in the North led to a need for a medium to replace the king, in order to ensure the identity of the people. I would therefore propose that the succession question is addressed in the Covenant Code and Deuteronomy, where God is Israel’s eternal king and where, by means of his laws, his people are attached to him as their current and future suzerain.64 Of course, the topic of legal exegesis remains crucial in this respect as well. The rise of legal exegesis is one of the most important consequences of the divinization of the law. The reason for that development is obvious: a divine law cannot be simply changed. Once it is there, it can only be altered by means of legal exegesis. As Jean Louis Ska put it: The Law was of divine origin, and its validity was therefore “permanent”; it could not be abrogated. Consequently, a “new law” was considered to be a form of an old law. It was both identical and different. In practical terms, only a new “updated” formulation was valid.65 63

LEVINSON / STACKERT, “Covenant Code”, 138 (italics in the original). In addition, it would be worthwhile to investigate whether there is any influence from Spartan and early Roman law traditions, especially regarding the notion of normativeness. Cf. WATSON, Laws; MACDOWELL (ed.), Spartan Law; BALTRUSCH, Sparta. 65 SKA, Introduction, 52. 64

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8. Israel and Judah’s Law in the Persian Period and God as Their Lawgiver Finally, a specific process in the Persian period needs to be mentioned, a process definitely responsible for establishing the concept of divine law in ancient Israel and Judah – namely, the rise of the Pentateuch as Torah. Whether or not this development has to be explained by means of a Persian imperialization of the Pentateuch is not of major significance here, even though I do lean toward this explanation.66 What is to be pointed out is that, by establishing the Pentateuch as Torah, this law as God’s law seems to serve as the functional equivalent of the king’s law, which is what Ezra 7:12, for example, suggests.67 This Persian period establishment of the Torah as both divine and as the official law of the Jews probably fuelled clashes with later empires, especially the Romans, who did not respect the kind of loyalty the Jews had to their God-given law.68

Literature ALBERTZ, R., “Die Theologisierung des Rechts im Alten Israel”, in: idem, Geschichte und Theologie. Studien zur Exegese des Alten Testaments und zur Religionsgeschichte Israels (BZAW 326), Berlin 2003, 187–207. —, Exodus 1–18 (ZBK 2.1), Zürich 2012. ALT, A., Die Ursprünge des israelitischen Rechts, Leipzig 1934. ASSMANN, J., Fünf Stufen auf dem Wege zum Kanon (MTV 1), Münster 1999. BALTRUSCH, E., Sparta: Geschichte, Gesellschaft, Kultur, Munich 1998. —, Die Juden und das Römische Reich: Geschichte einer konfliktreichen Beziehung, Darmstadt 2002. BAUKS, M., “La signification de l’espace et du temps dans ‘l’historiographie sacerdotale’ ”, in: T. Römer (ed.), The Future of the Deuteronomistic History (BEThL 147), Leuven 2000, 29–45. BAUMGARTNER, W., “Kampf um das Deuteronomium”, ThR NF 1 (1929) 7–25. BERNER, C., Die Exoduserzählung: Das literarische Werden einer Ursprungslegende Israels (FAT 73), Tübingen 2010. BLENKINSOPP, J., “The Structure of P”, CBQ 38 (1976) 275–292. BOECKER, H.-J., “Überlegungen zur sogenannten Familiengerichtsbarkeit in der Frühgeschichte Israels”, in: S. Beyerle et al. (eds.), Recht und Ethos im Alten Testament, FS H. Seebass, Neukirchen-Vluyn 1999, 3–9. 66

Cf. SCHMID, “Persian Imperial Authorization”, 22–38. “Wo es einen König gibt, zu dessen Hauptaufgaben es gehört, Gesetze zu erlassen und in Kraft zu setzen, braucht man kein Gesetzbuch; im Gegenteil: das würde die legislative Kompetenz des Königs in ungebührlicher Weise einschränken. Das Gesetzbuch ersetzt daher in gewisser Weise den König. Und genau dies ist der Punkt. Die Torah tritt an die Stelle des altorientalischen Rechtskönigtums. Sie verschriftet nicht das juristische Wissen, sondern das königliche Machtwort, das aufgrund dieses autoritativen Anspruchs als Wort Gottes kodifiziert wird” (ASSMANN, Fünf Stufen, 17). 68 Cf. BALTRUSCH, Juden. 67

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BRAGUE, R., The Law of God: The Philosophical History of an Idea (trans. L. G. Cochrane), Chicago 2007. CLINES, D. J. A., The Theme of the Pentateuch (JSOT.S 10), 2nd edn, Sheffield 1997. DEARMAN, J., Property Rights in the Eigthth-Century Prophets (SBL.DS 106), Atlanta 1988. DOZEMAN, T. et al. (eds.), The Pentateuch: International Perspectives on Current Research (FAT 78), Tübingen 2011. EIßFELDT, “Sinai”, RGG3 6 (1962) 44–45. ELLIGER, K., “Sinn und Ursprung der priesterlichen Geschichtserzählung”, ZTK 49 (1952) 121–143 (repr. in H. Gese / O. Kaiser [eds.], Kleine Schriften zum Alten Testament [TB 32], Munich 1966). ELSEN-NOVÁK, G. / NOVÁK, M., “Der ‘König der Gerechtigkeit’: Zur Ikonologie und Teleologie des ‘Codex’ Ḫammurapi”, BM 37 (2006) 131–155. ESKHULT, M., “The Importance of Loanwords for Dating Biblical Hebrew Texts”, in: I. Young (ed.), Biblical Hebrew: Studies in Chronology and Typology, London 2003, 8–23. FINKELSTEIN, I. / NA’AMAN, N. (eds.), From Nomadism to Monarchy: Archaeological and Historical Aspects of Early Israel, Jerusalem 1994. FRANKENA, R., The Vassal-Treaties of Esarhaddon and the Dating of Deuteronomy (OTS 14), Leiden 1965. FREVEL, C., Mit Blick auf das Land die Schöpfung erinnern (HBS 23), Freiburg 2000. FRITZ, V., Die Entstehung Israels im 12. und 11. Jahrhundert v. Chr. (Biblische Enzyklopädie 2), Stuttgart 1996. GERTZ, J. C., “Die Stellung des kleinen geschichtlichen Credos in der Redaktionsgeschichte von Deuteronomium und Pentateuch”, in: R. G. Kratz / H. Spieckermann (eds.), Liebe und Gebot: Studien zum Deuteronomium (FRLANT 190), Göttingen 2000, 30–45. — (ed.), Grundinformation Altes Testament (UTB 2745), 2nd edn, Göttingen 2007. GREENBERG, M., “Some Postulates of Biblical Criminal Law”, in: M. Haran (ed.), Yehezkel Kaufmann Jubilee Volume, Jerusalem 1960, 5–28. GUILLAUME, P., Land and Calendar: The Priestly Document from Genesis 1 to Joshua 18 (LHB 391), New York 2009. HARTENSTEIN, F., “Sonnengott und Wettergott in Jerusalem? Religionsgeschichtliche Beobachtungen zum Tempelweihspruch Salomos im masoretischen Text und in der LXX (1 Kön 8,12f // 3 Reg 8,53)”, in: J. Männchen (ed.), Mein Haus wird ein Bethaus für alle Völker genannt werden (Jes 56,7). Judentum seit der Zeit des Zweiten Tempels in Geschichte, Literatur und Kult, Festschrift für Thomas Willi zum 65. Geburtstag, Neukirchen-Vluyn 2007, 53–69. HORNKOHL, A., “Biblical Hebrew: Periodization”, in: G. Kahn (ed.), Encyclopedia of Hebrew Language and Linguistics, Leiden 2014, vol. 1, 315–325. HURVITZ, A., “Biblical Hebrew, Late”, in: G. Kahn (ed.), Encyclopedia of Hebrew Language and Linguistics, vol. 1, 329–338. JANOWSKI, B., Rettungsgewißheit und Epiphanie des Heils: Das Motiv der “Hilfe Gottes am Morgen” im Alten Orient und im Alten Testament (WMANT 59), Neukirchen-Vluyn 1989. —, “JHWH und der Sonnengott: Aspekte der Solarisierung JHWHs in vorexilischer Zeit”, in: J. Mehlhausen (ed.), Pluralismus und Identität, Veröffentlichungen der Wissenschaftlichen Gesellschaft für Theologie (VWGT 8), Gütersloh 1995, 214–241. JOHNSTONE, W., “Exodus 20.24b: Linchpin of Pentateuchal Criticism or Just a Further Link between the Decalogue and the Book of the Covenant?”, in: R. Rezetko et al. (eds.), Reflection and Refraction. Studies in Biblical Historiography in Honour of A. Graeme Auld (VT.S 113), Leiden 2007, 207–222. JOOSTEN, J., “The Syntax of Exodus 20:24b. Remarks on a Recent Article by Benjamin Kilchör”, BN 159 (2013) 3–8.

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KEEL, O., “Der salomonische Tempelweihspruch. Beobachtungen zum religionsgeschichtlichen Kontext des Ersten Jerusalemer Tempels”, in: idem / E. Zenger (eds.), Gotteststadt und Gottesgarten. Zur Geschichte und Theologie des Jerusalemer Tempels (QD 191), Freiburg 2002, 9–23. —, Die Geschichte Jerusalems und die Entstehung des Monotheismus, 2 vols. (OLB 4.1), Göttingen 2007. —, “Sonne der Gerechtigkeit. Jerusalemer Traditionen vom Sonnen- und Richtergott”, BiKi 63 (2008) 215–218. —, “Minima methodica und die Sonnengottheit von Jerusalem”, in: I. de Hulster / R. Schmitt (eds.), Iconography and Biblical Studies: Proceedings of the Iconography Sessions at the Joint EABS / SBL Conference, 22–26 July 2007, Vienna, Austria (AOAT 361), Münster 2009, 213–223. KESSLER, R., Staat und Gesellschaft im vorexilischen Juda: Vom 8. Jahrhundert bis zum Exil (VT.S 47), Leiden 1992. KIM, D.-H., Early Biblical Hebrew, Late Biblical Hebrew, and Linguistic Variability: A Sociolinguistic Evaluation of the Linguistic Dating of Biblical Texts (VT.S 156), Leiden 2013. KNAUF, E. A., “Die Priesterschrift und die Geschichten der Deuteronomisten”, in: T. Römer (ed.), The Future of the Deuteronomistic History (BEThL 147), Leuven 2000, 101–118. —, “Deborah’s Language. Judges Ch. 5 in its Hebrew and Semitic Context”, in: idem, Data and Debates. Essays in the History and Culture of Israel and Its Neighbors in Antiquity. Daten und Debatten. Aufsätze zur Kulturgeschichte des antiken Israel und seiner Nachbarn (AOAT 407), Münster 2013, 677–690. KNOHL, I., The Sanctuary of Silence, Winona Lake, IN 2007 [1995]. KNOPPERS, G. N., “The Deuteronomist and the Deuteronomic Law of the King: A Reexamination of a Relationship”, ZAW 108 (1996) 329–346. KÖCKERT, M., Leben in Gottes Gegenwart: Studien zum Verständnis des Gesetzes im Alten Testament (FAT 43), Tübingen 2004. KRATZ, R. G., Die Komposition der erzählenden Bücher des Alten Testaments (UTB 2157), Göttingen 2000, 102–117. —, “Der literarische Ort des Deuteronomiums”, in: idem / H. Spieckermann (eds.), Liebe und Gebot. Studien zum Deuteronomium. Festschrift zum 70. Geburtstag von Lothar Perlitt (FRLANT 190), Göttingen 2000, 101–120. KRÜGER, T., Geschichtskonzepte im Ezechielbuch (BZAW 180), Berlin 1989, 199–274. LEUENBERGER, M., “Jhwhs Herkunft aus dem Süden. Archäologische Befunde – biblische Überlieferungen – historische Korrelationen”, ZAW 122 (2010) 1–19. LEVINSON, B. M., Deuteronomy and the Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation, New York 1997. —, “The Reconceptualization of Kingship in Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic History’s Transformation of Torah”, VT 51 (2001) 511–543. LEVINSON, B. M. / STACKERT, J., “Between the Covenant Code and Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty: Deuteronomy 13 and the Composition of Deuteronomy”, JAJ 3 (2012) 123–140. LOHFINK, N., “Die Priesterschrift und die Geschichte”, in: J. A. Emerton (ed.), Congress Volume Göttingen 1977 (VT.S 29), Leiden 1978, 183–225 (repr. in Studien zum Pentateuch [SBAB 4], Stuttgart 1988). —, “Das Deuteronomium: Jahwegesetz oder Mosegesetz?”, ThPh 65 (1990) 387–391 = idem, Studien zum Deuteronomium und zur deuteronomistischen Literatur III (SBAB 20), Stuttgart 1995, 157–165. LÜDEMANN, G. / ÖZEN, A., “Religionsgeschichtliche Schule”, TRE 28 (1997) 618–624. LUX, R., “Hammurapi und Mose. Gottesrecht und Königsrecht im Alten Orient und im Alten Testament”, in: idem (ed.), Jenseits des Paradieses. Vorträge und Bibelarbeiten zum Alten Testament, Leipzig 2003, 112–139.

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RAD, G. VON, The Problem of the Hexateuch and Other Essays (trans. E. W. Trueman Dicken), Edinburgh 1966 (= Gesammelte Studien zum Alten Testament, Munich 1938). —, Theologie des Alten Testaments, vol. 1, 10th edn, Munich 1992. RENDSBURG, G. A., “Pentateuch, Linguistic Layers in the”, in: G. Kahn (ed.), Encyclopedia of Hebrew Language and Linguistics, Leiden 2014, vol. 2, 60–63. REZETKO, R. / YOUNG, I., Historical Linguistics and Biblical Hebrew: Steps Toward an Integrated Approach (SBL.ANEM 9), Atlanta 2014. RÖMER, T., “La naissance du Pentateuque et la construction d’une identité en débat”, in: O. Artus / J. Briend (eds.), L’identité dans l’Écriture, Hommage au professeur Jacques Briend (LeDiv 228), Paris 2009, 21–43. —, Einleitung in das Alte Testament: Die Bücher der Hebräischen Bibel und die alttestamentlichen Schriften der katholischen, protestantischen und orthodoxen Kirchen, Zürich 2013. —, “La loi du roi en Deutéronome 17 et ses fonctions”, in: O. Artus (ed.), Loi et justice dans la littérature du Proche-Orient ancien (BZAR 20), Wiesbaden 2013, 99–111. —, “Zwischen Urkunden, Fragmenten und Ergänzungen: Zum Stand der Pentateuchforschung”, ZAW 125 (2013) 2–24. RÖSEL, M., “Nomothesie: Zum Gesetzesverständnis der Septuaginta”, in: S. Kreuzer et al. (eds.), Im Brennpunkt: Die Septuaginta, Band 3: Studien zur Theologie, Anthropologie, Ekklesiologie, Eschatologie und Liturgie der Griechischen Bibel (BWANT 174), Stuttgart 2007, 132–150. —, “Salomo und die Sonne: Zur Rekonstruktion des Tempelweihspruchs I Reg 8,12f.”, ZAW 121 (2009) 402–417. SCHMID, K., “The Persian Imperial Authorization as Historical Problem and as Biblical Construct: A Plea for Differentiations in the Current Debate”, in: G. N. Knoppers / B. M. Levinson (eds.), The Pentateuch as Torah: New Models for Understanding Its Promulgation and Acceptance, Winona Lake, IN 2007, 22–38. —, “Der Sinai und die Priesterschrift”, in: R. Achenbach / M. Arneth (eds.), “Gerechtigkeit und Recht zu üben” (Gen 18,19). Studien zur altorientalischen und biblischen Rechtsgeschichte, zur Religionsgeschichte Israels und zur Religionssoziologie (BZAR 13), Wiesbaden 2009, 114–127. —, Review of Christoph Berner’s Die Exoduserzählung: das literarische Werden einer Ursprungslegende Israels, ZAW 123 (2010) 292–294. —, Jesaja 1–23 (ZBK 19/1), Zürich 2011. —, The Old Testament: A Literary History, Minneapolis 2012. —, “Schöpfung im Alten Testament”, in: idem (ed.), Schöpfung (ThTh 4; UTB 3514), Tübingen 2012, 71–120. —, “Der Pentateuch und seine Theologiegeschichte”, ZTK 111 (2014) 239–271. SCHMIDT, L., Studien zur Priesterschrift (BZAW 214), Berlin 1993. SCHMITT, H.-C., “Das Altargesetz Ex 20,24–26 und seine redaktionsgeschichtlichen Bezüge”, in: J. F. Diehl et al. (eds.), “Einen Altar von Erde mache mir”. Festschrift für Diethelm Conrad zu seinem 70. Geburtstag (KAANT 4/5), Waltrop 2003, 269–282. SCHWIENHORST-SCHÖNBERGER, L., Das Bundesbuch (Ex 20,22–23,33). Studien zu seiner Entstehung und Theologie (BZAW 188), Berlin 1990. SKA, J.-L., Introduction to Reading the Pentateuch, Winona Lake, IN 2006. —, “Le récit sacerdotal: Une ‘histoire sans fin’?”, in: T. Römer (ed.), The Books of Leviticus and Numbers (BEThL 215), Leuven 2008, 631–653. STACKERT, J., A Prophet Like Moses: Prophecy, Law, and Israelite Religion, Oxford 2014. STECK, O. H., Old Testament Exegesis: A Guide to the Methodology, 2nd edn, Atlanta 1998. —, “Zur konzentrischen Anlage von Jes 1,21–26”, in: I. Fischer (ed.), Auf den Spuren der schriftgelehrten Weisen. Festschrift für Johannes Marböck anlässlich seiner Emeritierung (BZAW 331), Berlin 2003, 97–103.

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STEYMANS, H. U., Deuteronomium 28 und die adê zur Thronfolgeregelung Asarhaddons: Segen und Fluch im Alten Orient und in Israel (OBO 145), Fribourg / Göttingen 1995. —, “Eine assyrische Vorlage für Deuteronomium 28,20–44”, in: G. Braulik (ed.), Bundesdokument und Gesetz: Studien zum Deuteronomium (HBS 4), Freiburg 1995, 119–141. —, “Die literarische und historische Bedeutung der Thronfolgevereidigung Asarhaddons”, in: M. Witte et al. (eds.), Die deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerke: Redaktions- und religionsgeschichtliche Perspektiven zur “Deuteronomismus”-Diskussion in Tora und Vorderen Propheten (BZAW 365), Berlin 2006, 331–349. WATSON, A., The Laws of the Ancient Romans, Dallas 1970. WEIMAR, P., Studien zur Priesterschrift (FAT 56), Tübingen 2008. WEINFELD, M., “Traces of Assyrian Treaty Formulae in Deuteronomy”, Bib. 46 (1965) 417–427. WELLHAUSEN, J., Prolegomena zur Geschichte Israels, Berlin 1883. —, Die Composition des Hexateuchs und der historischen Bücher des Alten Testaments, Berlin 1889. —, Israelitische und jüdische Geschichte, Berlin 1894. WÖHRLE, J., Fremdlinge im eigenen Land: Zur Entstehung und Intention der priesterlichen Passagen der Vätergeschichte (FRLANT 246), Göttingen 2012. ZENGER, E., “Priesterschrift”, TRE 27 (1997) 435–446. —, Einleitung in das Alte Testament (KStTh 1.1), 5th edn, Stuttgart 2004.

Born out of Ruins The Catastrophe of Jerusalem as Accoucheur to the Pentateuch in the Book of Deuteronomy Eckart Otto 1. Jerusalem in the Stipulations of the Book of Deuteronomy (Deut 12–13) The beginning of the Pentateuch, with the primeval stories in Gen 1–11, and Deuteronomy, as its final section, together form a frame for the postexilic Pentateuch and are the parts of it that reflect most intensively on the catastrophe of Jerusalem and its temple, and on the question of whether such a catastrophe will happen again. The authors of the postexilic relecture (nachexilische Fortschreibung) of Deuteronomy, who presupposed the Priestly Code (P) and integrated Deuteronomy into the Pentateuch in its postexilic shape, focused on Jerusalem and its fate by correlating their texts within Deuteronomy with other texts in the Former and Latter Prophets1 that deal with the siege and destruction of Jerusalem and its temple. For this study I have chosen just three chapters – Deut 12, 13 and 28 – out of the various texts in Deuteronomy that are related to Jerusalem, to discuss the relationship of the stipulations and narratives in the frame of the postexilic Deuteronomy with Jerusalem. In the frame of Deuteronomy, the story of the “golden calf” in Deut 9–10 will serve as a paradigm, shedding light on the meaning of the catastrophe of Jerusalem for the whole frame of Deuteronomy and for its fabula. 1.1 Jerusalem in the Decrees of Centralization of Sacrifices in Deuteronomy 12 The postexilic shape of Deut 12 was the result of a complex literary history between the seventh and fourth centuries BCE, with Deut 12:13–19 as the preexilic literary core of the chapter.2 The centralization formula,3 in its original 1 For the literary links between the post-Priestly and post-Deuteronomistic Pentateuch and the Former Prophets, beyond the hypothesis of a pre-Deuteronomistic Hexateuch and a post-Deuteronomistic Enneateuch, see ACHENBACH, “Verhältnisbestimmung”, 122–154. 2 For further exegetical details see OTTO, Deuteronomium 12,1–23,15. For a summary of the literary history of the Book of Deuteronomy see OTTO, Deuteronomium 1–11, 231–257; idem, “Hermeneutics”, 211–250.

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preexilic long and short forms,4 was already related to Jerusalem as the elected place of a divine “dwelling”. Its Near Eastern background and its dating are matters of controversy,5 but there are very good reasons, accepted by most scholars, for connecting the “theology of dwelling” of the centralization formula with the temple of Jerusalem. If Jerusalem was connected to the request for a centralization of sacrifices as a core motif of Deuteronomy from its very beginning, which already guided its reformulation of the pre-Deuteronomic altar law of the Covenant Code6 in the seventh century, then the authors of the post-Deuteronomic relectures from the sixth to the fourth centuries could not ignore the destruction of the city and temple of Jerusalem. They could, however, declare another place to be the elected one. This was the solution of Samaritan or “Proto-Samaritan” authors,7 who were guided to transfer the māqôm from Jerusalem to Shechem, not by prophecies of doom against Jerusalem in the corpus propheticum but by the idea, taken from the post-Priestly redaction of the Hexateuch, that “Samaria” was an integral part of the Promised Land of “Israel”.8 This idea found its way, in Deut 27, into the Deuteronomy of the fourth or third century.9 The alternative, to give up on the idea of an exclusive elected place for sacrifices – an idea which was firmly connected with the late preexilic Deuteronomy and its revision of the Covenant Code – would mean giving up any further literary history of the book of Deuteronomy after the destruction of Jerusalem and its temple. The intensive postexilic relecture of this book demonstrates that none of these alternatives was chosen. The authors of the Deuteronomistic and postexilic relectures of Deuteronomy in the sixth to fourth centuries chose to “digest” the catastrophe of the destruction of Jerusalem and its temple theologically within and by the relecture of Deuteronomy, and they did it intensively. The catastrophe of Jerusalem in the sixth century was intrinsic to the agenda of the postexilic Deuteronomy as a part of the Pentateuch. We can find theological reactions to the destruction of Jerusalem in the later layers of the literary history of the stipulations’ (Deut 12–26) “main decree” (Hauptgebot) in Deut 12, beginning with the Deuteronomistic relecture of the Deuteronomic core section, Deut 12:13–19, in 12:1–7 and 12:29–31*. The Deuteronomistic references to the account of Josiah’s cultic purgation in 3

See LOHFINK, “Zentralisationsformel”, 179–207. See “Exkurs: Der keilschriftliche Hintergrund der Namenstheologie in der Zentralisationsformel des Deuteronomiums”, in OTTO, Deuteronomium 12,1–23,15, 1174–1176. 5 See e.g. RICHTER, Name Theology, 204–217 on the one side and KRATZ, “Centralization”, 121–144; idem, “Peg”, 251–285 on the other. 6 See LEVINSON, Hermeneutics, 23–36. 7 See KNOPPERS, Jews, 169–216. 8 See OTTO, Deuteronomiumrahmen, 234–265. 9 See FUNKE, Garizim (forthcoming). 4

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Jerusalem (2 Kgs 23:1–15)10 in Deut 12:3 demonstrate that the Deuteronomistic authors had Jerusalem in mind in Deut 12:2–3: Deut 12:3

2 Kgs 23:12–15

break down (‫ )נתץ‬their altars

he broke down (‫ )נתץ‬their altar

smash (‫ )שבר‬their pillars

he smashed (‫ )שבר‬the pillars

burn (‫ )שרף‬their Asherah

he burnt (‫ )שרף‬their Asherah

The Deuteronomistic reception of 2 Kgs 23:1–15 in Deut 12:3 was combined with the reception of the Decalogue’s prohibition of idols in Deut 5:8, “cut down the idols (‫ )פסילים‬of their gods”, so that Deut 12:3 became Moses’ exegesis of that prohibition and its application to living in the Promised Land, on the one hand, and to Josiah’s purgation of Jerusalem in 2 Kgs 23 as a fulfilment of Moses’ interpretation in Deut 12, on the other. But in Deut 12 Moses was not only seen as an interpreter of divine stipulations but also as a prophet. The Deuteronomistic authors did not just intend to legitimize Josiah’s acts of purgation in Jerusalem and his centralization of sacrifices according to Deut 12:7–12, 13–19. In Deut 12:29–31* they changed the hermeneutical level from Moses addressing his audience in Moab – the narrated time – to the Book of Deuteronomy addressing its addressees in the sixth century – the time of narration – a change that was indicated by a Numeruswechsel.11 The Deuteronomistic authors of Deut 12:2–7, 29–31* knew about the failure of Josiah’s attempt to preserve Jerusalem and its temple from a catastrophe by destroying the idols. In the time of narration of a Deuteronomistic Deuteronomy, the destruction of Jerusalem had already happened and was in the past for its addressees. So in Deut 12:29–31* the Deuteronomistic authors were warning them to try to remember the past only in order to revitalize it. Be careful not to be ensnared by inquiring about their gods, saying: “How do these people serve their gods? We will do the same.” (Deut 12:30)

The authors of this Deuteronomistic relecture of Deut 12 worked with a “distinct vision of Israelite identity … through a binary system of classification that distinguishes between the ‘Israelite way’ and the ‘Canaanite way’ ”.12 But the 10

For a literary analysis of 2 Kgs 23,1–15 see PIETSCH, Kultreform, 160–430. For the hermeneutics of differentiating between “narrated time” and “time of narration” in the Book of Deuteronomy as part of the Pentateuch, as indicated in Deuteronomy by changing the numbers of addressees from singular to plural and vice versa (Numeruswechsel), see the summary in OTTO, Deuteronomium 1–11, 258–261. 12 So LEVTOW, Images, 148–149. 11

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question remains: what was “Canaanite” for these Deuteronomistic authors in this context? The antithesis between an Israelite and a Canaanite religion never existed and is an unhistorical construct. The Deuteronomistic authors were not dealing with a “Canaanite” religion but with the dialectic between an early, preexilic and a later, postexilic form of the YHWH-religion. They found the preexilic YHWH-religion so depraved that they called it “Canaanite”, as a counterpart to the YHWH-religion in its legitimate shape after the destruction of Jerusalem and its temple.13 The authors of the postexilic relecture of the centralization decrees in Deut 12:8–12, 20–28 were writing from the perspective of interpreting Deuteronomy as part of the post-Priestly Pentateuch.14 Now the hermeneutical challenge was no longer just the differences between the altar law of the Covenant Code and the Deuteronomic decree of centralization in Deut 12:13–19, but also, with the postexilic Deuteronomy as part of the Pentateuch, the differences between Deut 12 and the Holiness Code in Lev 17. As the Deuteronomic authors had done with the altar law of the Covenant Code and Deut 12:13–19,15 the authors of the postexilic relecture in Deut 12:20–28 addressed this challenge by scribal compromises between Deut 12:1–7, 13–19, 29–31*, and Lev 17. But they were looking forwards to Deut 25 and 1 Kgs 8 as well as back to Lev 17. In Deut 12:8–12 they linked their interpretation of the centralization decree to Jerusalem by connecting Deut 12 with Solomon’s prayer in 1 Kgs 8. The Deuteronomistic authors used a Deuteronomistic text with 2 Kgs 23 to connect Deut 12 with Jerusalem, and the authors of the postexilic relecture used a post-Deuteronomistic, postexilic addition to Solomon’s prayer in 1 Kgs 8:53–61, (62–64).16 Deut 12:9–10 was a constitutive part of the postexilic relecture of Deuteronomy forming, together with Deut 25:19, a frame around the stipulations in Deut 12–25 using the motif of Israel’s “rest” (‫)מנוחה‬. You are not to do as we do here today, everyone doing as they see fit, since you have not yet reached the rest and the inheritance YHWH, your God, is giving you. (Deut 12:8–9). When YHWH, your God, gives you rest from all the enemies around you in the land, he is giving you to possess as an inheritance. (Deut 25:19).

This was taken up in a post-Deuteronomistic literary addition to the Deuteronomistic Book of Joshua in Josh 21:43–45: So YHWH gave Israel all the land he had sworn to give their ancestors, and took possession of it and settled there. YHWH gave them rest on every side, just as he had sworn to their ancestors. Not one of their enemies withstood them. YHWH gave all their enemies into their hands. Not one of all of YHWH’s good promises failed; every one was fulfilled. (Josh 21:43–45). 13

See OTTO, Ethik, 202–204. See OTTO, “Integration”. 15 See OTTO, Rechtsreform, 203–364; idem, “Rechtshermeneutik”, 464–485. 16 See ACHENBACH, “Verhältnisbestimmung”, 250. 14

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This passage looked back to the promises given to the patriarchs in Genesis,17 but also forward to YHWH’s final abode at the temple of Jerusalem in 1 Kgs 8:53–61.18 Solomon’s prayer at the temple of Jerusalem was the target of the postexilic relecture of Deut 12:8–12: Praise to YHWH, who has given rest to his people Israel just as he promised. Not one word has failed of all the good promises he gave his servant Moses. May YHWH, our God, be with us as he was with our ancestors. May he never leave us nor forsake us. May he turn our hearts to him, to walk in obedience to him and keep the commands, decrees and laws he gave our ancestors. (1 Kgs 8:58).

“May he turn our hearts to him, to walk in obedience to him” looks back to Deut 12, using an expression that is typical of Deuteronomy (cf. Deut 12:5, 33, 10:12, 30:16). That Israel will find rest is the presupposition for the people’s obedience in Deut 12:8. The kerygma of the correlation between Deut 12:8–12 and 1 Kgs 8:53–61 as its target was the message that the resting place of Israel, with its elected “place” (‫)מקום‬, and YHWH’s rest at the temple of Jerusalem belonged together. This created an intense theological tension at the beginning of the promulgation of the stipulations in Deuteronomy in a postexilic relecture after the temple had been destroyed. The authors of this postexilic relecture resolved the tension theologically with the idea that the Torah would substitute for the temple. 1.2 Jerusalem in the Prohibitions of Apostasy in Deuteronomy 13 Moses’ promulgation of the stipulations in Deut 12–26 started with their two main decrees: the centralization of sacrifices in Deut 12 and the prohibitions of apostasy in Deut 13. These were via negationis decrees demanding an absolute loyalty to YHWH. As in Deut 12, the literary history of the chapter began with a seventh-century Deuteronomic core section, Deut 13:1, 2–12. Smaller Deuteronomistic supplements were added to the Deuteronomic text, in Deut 13:4b–5, and also a supplement from the postexilic relecture in Deut 13:8.19 The Deuteronomistic authors further added to the two Deuteronomic prohibitions of apostasy in Deut 13:2–12 a third case of the confirmed apostasy of a whole town in Deut 13:13–17, with a postexilic supplement in Deut 13:18–19. There are good reasons to suppose that the Deuteronomistic authors, like the later authors of the postexilic relecture in Deut 13:8 and 18–19, were already talking about Jerusalem as the apostate town. Deut 13:17 finds its next parallel 17

See KNAUF, Josua, 179. For the post-Priestly chain of Num 10:33b, Deut 12:9 and 1 Kgs 8:56, see ACHENBACH, Vollendung, 250. To assign these verses to a Deuteronomistic “historian” (DtrH) like VEIJOLA, Deuteronomium, 272–273, does not take into account the post-Priestly elements in these verses. An inner-Deuteronomistic differentiation (see GOSSE, “Rédaction”, 323–331), does not help. 19 For literary analysis see OTTO, Rechtsreform, 32–57, and for some revisions of this analysis in relation to the post-exilic relecture, idem, Deuteronomium 12,1–23,15. 18

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in Jer 30:18. Both texts are characterized by the identical sequence of key-words “ruin” (‫)תל‬, “town” (‫ )עיר‬and “build” (‫)בנה‬. Jer 30:18, dealing with the recovery from the destruction of Jerusalem and its rebuilding, adopted Deut 13:17, a text also dealing with the destruction of Jerusalem. The translators of the Septuagint rendered the formula of devastation “the town will be a ruin for a long time” in Deut 13:17 by “it shall be uninhabited forever”, connecting it with Jerusalem. They translated the devastation formula by the term ἀοίκητος, only later used elsewhere in 1 Macc 3:24, in the context of the destruction of Jerusalem by the Hellenists. In so doing the translators fulfilled the intention of the Deuteronomistic authors in relating Deut 13:13–17 to Jerusalem. The legal consequence of the apostasy would be complete destruction (‫ )חרם‬for the whole town, which would be set on fire (‫ )שרף‬as a burnt offering, a whole offering (‫ )כליל‬to YHWH. The destruction of the town would be total. Calling the burning an offering to YHWH shows that the Deuteronomistic authors interpreted the town’s destruction theologically as a burnt offering, and that this town was Jerusalem. The destroyed town was to become an eternal ruin. Jerusalem was burnt by the Babylonians in 587 BCE, as both 2 Kgs 25:9 and the archaeology20 testify, and remained for a long period a “tel”. But the motif of an offering to YHWH opened up a window for the idea of rebuilding the town, as Jer 30:18 shows. Deut 13:13–17 explained the catastrophe of Jerusalem as a legal consequence of its preexilic apostasy, so that the destruction of the temple would not appear as a sign of divine weakness and inability to protect the temple. Instead it was caused by YHWH himself because of the apostasy of Jerusalem. But seeing the destruction as a “whole offering” to YHWH could create a turning point: the destruction should have a meaning beyond the realization of the legal consequences of apostasy. This is exactly the point where the postexilic relecture of Deut 13:13–17 could be inserted into Jer 30:18.21 The same happened with the postexilic relecture in Deut 13:18–19. The Deuteronomistic interpretation of the destruction of Jerusalem in Deut 13:13–17 as burnt offering to YHWH provided legitimation for the authors of the postexilic relecture in integrating aspects of a theology of grace into the case of apostasy and opening up a future perspective for the town after its destruction in Deut 13:18–19: Then YHWH will turn from his fierce anger, will show you mercy [‫ ]רחם‬and will have compassion on you. He will increase your number, as he swore to your ancestors, if you obey YHWH, your God, by keeping all his commands that I am giving you today and doing what is right in his eyes.

This is a literary conflation of Moses’ prophecy in Deut 4:30–31 and his intercession in a prayer in Exod 32:11–14. The authors of the postexilic relecture 20 For the archaeological schema of Jerusalem in the period of the Babylonian occupation see OTTO, Jerusalem, 76–82. 21 See FISCHER, Jeremia 26–52, 135; EHRENREICH, Leben, 134–135.

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read Deut 13:13–17 within the horizon of Moses’ prophecy of salvation in Deut 4:30–31:22 In your distress all these words will find you. At the end of days you will return to YHWH and you will listen to his voice, because YHWH, your God, is a merciful [‫ ]רחום‬God. He will not abandon or destroy you or forget the covenant with your ancestors, that he confirmed to them by oath.

They also interpreted Deut 13 in relation to the Pentateuch, so that Moses’ prayer as prophet to YHWH in Exod 32:11–14, which they added to the narrative of the Golden Calf in Exod 32:7–14,23 could become a second reference text: Turn from your fierce anger; relent and do not bring disaster on your people …. I will make your descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and I will give your descendants all this land I promised them.

These authors gave one definite hint to their addressees that they were dealing with Jerusalem and its history after the destruction as it was described in Deut 12:13–17. They inserted Deut 13:8 into the second case of apostasy in Deut 13:7–12, although this verse interrupted the Deuteronomic and Deuteronomistic text of Deut 13:7 and 9: The gods of the nations around you, whether near or far from one end of the earth to the other. (Deut 13:8).

2. Jerusalem in Moses’ Prophecy (Deuteronomy 28:47–68) Scholars are puzzled about the meaning of Deut 13:8 in its literary context of a stipulation against seduction to apostasy by family members. The sense of this insertion will be better understood if one realizes that it functioned as a literary pointer towards Moses’ prophecy in Deut 28:64: Then YHWH will scatter you among all nations, from one end of the earth to the other. (Deut 28:64).

One reason for inserting this verse at exactly this point, although it does not really fit, was a rather formal one of redactional technique. In Deut 28:36, the authors of the postexilic relecture quoted Deut 13:7b “gods, that neither you nor your ancestors have known”, and they followed this with the quotation of Deut 28:64 in 13:8. They intended a theological interpretation correlating Deut 13 with the postexilic relecture of Deut 28:47–68. These verses in Deut 28 were changed from curses into Moses’ prophecy of the siege and destruction of Jerusalem. The prophecy, with its description of the enemies 22

See OTTO, Deuteronomium 1–11, 573–582. Exod 32:7–14 is a post-Deuteronomistic addition to Exod 32; see KONKEL, Sünde, 108–111. 23

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(Feindschilderung) in Deut 28:49–52 and of the siege in Deut 28:53–57, was derived from the Book of Jeremiah, which described the siege of Jerusalem using the same words and motifs. In Deut 28:53 the authors of the postexilic relecture put the words of the prophet Jeremiah into Moses’ mouth: I shall make them eat the flesh of their sons and their daughters, and they will eat one another’s flesh, because their enemies will press siege so hard against them to destroy them. (Jer 19:9). Because of their suffering, that your enemy will inflict on you during the siege, you will eat the fruit of the womb, the flesh of the sons and daughters, YHWH, your God, has given you. (Deut 28:53).

The description of the distress of the siege in Jer 19:9 was a description of Jerusalem. The authors of the postexilic relecture put this description in Moses’ mouth so that, for their addressees in the postexilic time of narration, it became obvious that Moses, in his function as a prophet in the land of Moab, was predicting the catastrophe of 587 BCE in Deut 28:47–68. In Deut 28:63 the authors of the postexilic relecture of Deuteronomy quoted Jer 32:41: I shall be pleased in doing them good and will assuredly plant them in this land with all my heart and with all my soul.

This prophecy of salvation was related as a counterpart, “ein positives Gegenstück” according to G. Fischer, to the prophecy of the destruction of Jerusalem in Jer 32:28–29. When it was quoted in Deut 28:63, Jer 32:41 was interpreted according to the theology of the postexilic relecture of Deuteronomy and turned into a prophecy of doom that is related to Deut 30:1–10 as Moses’ prophecy of salvation: 24 Just as it pleased YHWH to make you prosper and increase in number, so it will please him to ruin and destroy you. You will be uprooted from the land you are entering to possess (Deut 28:63).

Moses’ prophecy in Deut 28 of doom for Jerusalem in the event of disobedience to the Torah was, as indicated by a Numeruswechsel, directed towards the addressees of Deuteronomy in the postexilic time of narration. Again the postexilic relecture was “digesting” the catastrophe of Jerusalem in order to gain a perspective on the future for the city after its destruction. Specifically, the authors of the postexilic relecture were dealing with this catastrophe in the context of their prophetic kerygma, zwischen den Zeiten: the addressees of the postexilic Deuteronomy were looking back at the catastrophe and looking forward to the fulfilment of history “at the end of the days” (Deut 4:30)25 by a circumcision of their hearts (Deut 30:6).26 In this situation the postexilic authors warned 24 “Die einzige Beschäftigung mit dieser dunklen Aussage in ihrem präzisen Wortlaut außerhalb von Dtn zeigt Jer 32:41”: FISCHER, “Ende”, 284–285. 25 See HOUTMAN, “Eschaton”, 119–128; OTTO, Deuteronomium 1–11, 578–580. 26 See EHRENREICH, Leben, 156–197; OTTO, Deuteronomium 1–11, 580–583; idem, Deuteronomium 24–34 (forthcoming).

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their addressees not to miss out on this circumcision of their hearts by disobedience to the Torah, because a second disobedience after the catastrophe would mean, this time, a final and definite destruction.27 This aspect of the application of Moses’ prophecies to the postexilic time of narration explains why, in his prophecies of doom in Deut 4 and Deut 29, Moses never predicts the destruction of the temple but only YHWH’s sending the people into exile. This also explains the amphibolic style of narration in Deut 9–10.

3. The Catastrophe of Jerusalem as it is Reflected in the Narrative of the Golden Calf The Deuteronomistic Deuteronomy and its postexilic relecture reflected the catastrophe of Jerusalem. They did not mention the place-name of Jerusalem explicitly, because the setting of the story of Deuteronomy was promulgated by Moses in Moab long before Jerusalem became a part of Israel. The authors of Deuteronomy rather formulated the challenge of the destruction of Jerusalem so that they tied Deuteronomy to the prophetic literature of the Former and Latter Prophets, confirming Moses’ prophetic status. For the addressees of the Book of Deuteronomy in the postexilic period it was evident that Moses was already speaking of the fate of Jerusalem and its temple. The authors of the postexilic Book of Deuteronomy did not deal with Jerusalem only in the stipulations of Deut 12–26 and the curses of Deut 28, but also in the story of the golden calf in Deut 9:1–10:1128 as a key narrative in the fabula of the framing sections of Deuteronomy. The authors of Deuteronomy put themselves in Moses’ shoes, looking back from the covenant in Deut 29 to the events at Mount Horeb. YHWH had revealed the stipulations of the Decalogue to his people but, according to Deut 5, they were afraid to listen to YHWH’s voice and asked Moses to mediate YHWH’s revelation. YHWH agreed to the people’s wish, and Moses went up to Mount Horeb, stayed there for forty days and forty nights with YHWH, and received the tablets of the Decalogue and the stipulations of Deuteronomy. At the same time, the people at the foot of the mountain decided to cast a golden calf. YHWH’s anger flared up when he saw that they were breaking the First Commandment of the Decalogue, and he decided to annihilate the people. Moses, seeing what had happened, descended from Mount Horeb and smashed the tablets of the Decalogue he had received from YHWH; but he threw himself at YHWH’s feet and, in a prophetic intercession, prayed for the salvation of the people. YHWH 27

See OTTO, “Theologie“, 141–148. At this point the post-exilic relecture of Deuteronomy contradicted the post-exilic authors of the Tradentenprophetie of the Book of Jeremiah in Jer 31:31–34; see KNOBLOCH, Prophetentheorie, 157–159, 294–295. 28 For a literary analysis of the story of the golden calf, see OTTO, Deuteronomium 1–11, 954–1002.

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listened to him and Moses destroyed the golden calf. Again Moses spent forty days and forty nights with YHWH and received the Decalogue again on new tablets. In interpreting this story, one has to take into account that here once again the authors differentiated carefully between the narrated time of Moses and the time of narration. The addressees of the postexilic Deuteronomy could see through the story to the topography of Jerusalem when it was talking about a mountain and a river flowing down the mountain: I took that sinful thing of yours, the calf you had made, and burned it in the fire. Then I crushed it and ground it to powder as fine as dust and threw the dust into a river that flowed down the mountain. (Deut 9:21)

In the postexilic time of narration the addressees of Deuteronomy learned that this story was talking about Jerusalem as well as Mount Horeb. In Deut 9–10*, the postexilic authors adopted the pre-Deuteronomistic narrative of the golden calf from Exod 32:1a, 4bβ, (6), 15aα (without ‫)ויפן‬, 19abα, 20, 30, 31abαβ, 32, 33, 35abα29 nearly word for word. In Deut 9:21 they were quoting Exod 32:20:30 He took the calf the people had made, and burned it in the fire, then he ground it to powder, scattered it on the water and made the Israelites drink it.

The verbs “burn” (‫ )שרף‬and “grind” (‫ )טחן‬in Deut 9:21 were adopted from Exod 32:20 and connected with the Deuteronomistic terms “crush” (‫ )כתת‬in 2 Kgs 18:4 and “do good” (‫ )יטב‬in 2 Kgs 11:18. In this way the authors of Deut 9:21 connected Moses’ act of purgation at Mount Horeb with corresponding actions by Jehoiada, Hezekiah and Josiah.31 All these purgations happened at Jerusalem. In Exod 32:20, the motif of the water on which the powdered remains of the ground-up calf were scattered functioned as a motif of personal responsibility for sin, which was internalized by drinking the water. In Deut 9 the motif of water was given an entirely different context, not as a means of internalization but as a “stream” (‫ )נחל‬coming down from the mountain. This motif has no counterpart in the pre-Deuteronomistic narrative of Exod 32, but was adopted from that of Josiah’s purgation of Jerusalem in 2 Kgs 23:12: He smashed the [sc. the altars] and threw the powder into the river [‫ ]נחל‬Kidron.

2 Kgs 23:12 dealt with the purgation of Jerusalem. The addressees of Deuteronomy were learning that the story in Deut 9–10*, which was placed at Mount Horeb in the narrated time, was dealing with themselves and with Jerusalem in the postexilic time of narration. 29 For a literary analysis of Exod 32 in relation to Deut 9*, see OTTO, Deuteronomium 1–11, 955–969. 30 See BEGG, “Destruction”, 208–251; idem, “Calf Revisited”, 474–479, pace VAN SETERS, Moses, 306–307. 31 See ARNETH, “Hiskia”, 275–293.

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From this perspective the motif of the tablets, which had no counterpart in the pre-Deuteronomistic narrative of Exod 32, found its meaning and function in Deut 9–10*. The destruction of the tablets of the Decalogue meant for them, bearing in mind the story’s correspondence with Jerusalem, the destruction of the temple; and the restoration of the tablets meant that, despite the destruction of the temple, the relationship between YHWH and his people was not definitively broken. YHWH would remain their God and he would not annihilate them. This was the message of the story of the golden calf, which was read beyond its location at Mount Horeb in the narrated time of Moses, against the background of its relationship to Jerusalem in the time of narration. For the postexilic addressees of Deuteronomy, who had experienced the destruction of Jerusalem and its temple, the story of the golden calf answered the decisive question as to whether the destruction of YHWH’s temple meant the end of Israel being the people of YHWH and of YHWH being their God. The story’s answer was a definite “No”! “YHWH was angry enough with you to destroy you” said Deut 9:19, and the legal consequence was the destruction of the tablets at Mount Horeb in the narrated time, and of his temple in the time of narration. But YHWH listened to Moses’ intercession in the narrated time at Mount Horeb and the tablets were renewed, so that their life as YHWH’s people could go on. This was also valid for the postexilic time of narration. The people and the temple were not definitively destroyed, because YHWH would remain their God. Deut 13:18–19, a text dealing with Jerusalem, as we have already seen,32 explained why this was so: YHWH will turn from his fierce anger, will show you mercy and will have compassion on you. (Deut 13:19).

The fate of Israel’s relationship with YHWH at Mount Horeb was represented in the narrated time of Moses by the tablets. In the narrated time, the story of the golden calf gave an answer to the question of the addressees of Deuteronomy as to whether their relationship with YHWH was broken because his temple was destroyed. But there remained a second question, for the postexilic addressees in the time of narration: whether such a catastrophe as that of Jerusalem could happen again. The story of the golden calf also answered this question. The postexilic addressees learned that they were part of the story, and found their actual position in the fabula of the narrated time at Mount Horeb, when the tablets were destroyed just as the temple was. The fact that Deuteronomy was promulgated to them, in the postexilic time, as it had been by Moses in the narrated time, after the renewal of the tablets, indicated to them that they were living in a situation corresponding to that in the story of the golden calf, when YHWH had overcome his anger, listened to Moses’ intercession and promised that he would not annihilate the people, so the tablets were renewed. 32

Cf. the function of Deut 13:8; see above 1.2.

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Already the simple fact that the book of Deuteronomy was promulgated in the postexilic time of narration was a message to its addressees that, after the catastrophe, their life as God’s people would go on. Moses promulgated the stipulations of Deuteronomy before the covenant was concluded in Deut 29. This was a decisive point in the kerygma of the fabula of Deuteronomy for its addressees in the time of narration. The First Commandment of the Decalogue was broken at Mount Horeb, when the covenant was not yet concluded. The kerygma of Deuteronomy for its postexilic addressees was to say that, if they were to break the First Commandment of the Decalogue again, after Deuteronomy was promulgated to them as a sign that YHWH’s covenant was concluded with them, YHWH would annihilate them and destroy Jerusalem definitively and forever – as it says in Deut 13:17. In Deut 13:18, “YHWH will turn from his fierce anger, will show you mercy, and will have compassion on you, he will increase your numbers, as he promised on oath to your ancestors”, was followed by, “if you are obedient to YHWH, your God, by keeping all his commands that I am giving you today and doing what is right in his eyes”. YHWH turned away from his anger and renewed the tablets at Mount Horeb because the stipulations of Deuteronomy were not yet promulgated and the covenant was not yet concluded. But if the addressees of Deuteronomy were to break the First Commandment of the Decalogue again after Deuteronomy was promulgated to them and the covenant was concluded, it would mean that they would be besieged again and definitively destroyed, as predicted by Moses’ prophecy in Deut 28:47–68 and by the prophet Jeremiah. This was the kerygma of the Book of Deuteronomy, zwischen den Zeiten, in a dialectic between Deut 28 and Deut 30 in Moses’ address, and between Deut 31 and Deut 32 in YHWH’s dialogue with the “canon”.33 Deuteronomy delivered a blueprint for the living zwischen den Zeiten and used its parenetic power 34 to convince its addressees of this blueprint. The catastrophe of Jerusalem was not only an implicit subject of the postexilic book of Deuteronomy as part of the post-Priestly Pentateuch but also, for its addressees, an overt one, explained by the story of the golden calf in Deut 9–10, which was formulated to create a superposition of Mount Horeb on Mount Zion, and with the tablets in the narrated time of Moses representing by their destruction and renewal the destruction of the temple and the unbroken relationship between the people and YHWH. In the narrated time the tablets of the Decalogue were, according to Deut 10:5,35 33 For the theological dialectic between Deut 31 and Deut 32 see OTTO, “Abschiedslied”, 641–678. For a different theological interpretation of this dialectic see the synchronical study of BERGEN, Dischronology, 115–169. For this study see OTTO, Deuteronomium 1–11, and MARKL, “Rezension”, 457–459. 34 MARKL (Gottes Volk, 291–303) presented a cutting-edge meta-pragmatic analysis of the parenesis of Deuteronomy promoting community-building; for this study cf. OTTO, Deuteronomium 1–11, 227–230. 35 See OTTO, Deuteronomium 1–11, 989–990.

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locked up in the ark, so that there was no longer any open access to them – unlike the Torah, which was placed outside the ark so that it was open for interpretation. In the postexilic time of narration the ark with its tablets had disappeared, but the Torah was still there with the message that its promulgation was already a sign of salvation after the catastrophe of Jerusalem.

Literature ACHENBACH, R., Die Vollendung der Tora: Studien zur Redaktionsgeschichte des Numeribuches im Kontext von Hexateuch und Pentateuch (BZAR 3), Wiesbaden 2003. —, “Pentateuch, Hexateuch und Enneateuch: Eine Verhältnisbestimmung”, ZAR 11 (2005) 122–154. ARNETH, M., “Hiskia und Josia”, in: R. Achenbach et al., Tora in der Hebräischen Bibel: Studien zur Redaktionsgeschichte und synchronen Logik diachroner Transformationen (BZAR 7), Wiesbaden 2007, 275–293. BEGG, C. T., “The Destruction of the Calf (Exod 32,20 / Deut 9,21)”, in: N. Lohfink (ed.), Das Deuteronomium: Entstehung, Gestalt und Botschaft (BEThL 68), Leuven 1985, 208–251. —, “The Destruction of the Calf Revisited (Exod 32,20 / Deut 9,21)”, in: M. Vervenne (ed.), Deuteronomy and Deuteronomic Literature (BEThL 133), Leuven 1997, 469–479. BERGEN, D. A., Dischronology and Dialogic in the Bible’s Primary Narrative (Biblical Intersections 2), Piscataway 2009. EHRENREICH, E., Wähle das Leben! Deuteronomium 30 als hermeneutischer Schlüssel zur Tora (BZAR 14), Wiesbaden 2010. FISCHER, G., Jeremia 26–52 (HThKAT), Freiburg i. Br. 2005. —, “Das Ende von Deuteronomium (Dtn 26–34) im Spiegel des Jeremiabuches”, in: R. Achenbach / M. Arneth (eds.), “Gerechtigkeit und Recht zu üben” (Gen 18,19): Studien zur altorientalischen und biblischen Rechtsgeschichte, zur Religionsgeschichte Israels und zur Religionssoziologie (BZAR 13), Wiesbaden 2009, 281–292. FUNKE, T., “Der Priester Pinhas in Jerusalem und auf dem Berg Garizim: Eine interkulturelle Untersuchung seiner Erzählungen und deren literar-und sozialgeschichtliche Einordnung” (forthcoming in ORA; PhD. diss., Leipzig 2013). GOSSE, B., “La rédaction deutéronomiste de Deutéronome 12,10 à 1 Rois et la tranquillité devant les ennemis d’alentour”, EeT 25 (1994) 323–331. HOUTMAN, C., “An der Schwelle zum Eschaton: Prophetische Eschatologie im Deuteronomium, in: F. Postma et al. (eds.), The New Things: Eschatology in Old Testament Prophecy (ACEBT.S), Amsterdam 2002, 119–128. KNAUF, E. A., Josua (ZBK.AT), Zurich 2008. KNOBLOCH, H., Die nachexilische Prophetentheorie des Jeremiabuches (BZAR 12), Wiesbaden 2009. KNOPPERS, G. N., Jews and Samaritans: The Origins and History of their Early Relations, Oxford 2013. KONKEL, M., Sünde und Vergebung: Eine Rekonstruktion der Redaktionsgeschichte der hinteren Sinaiperikope (Exodus 32–34) vor dem Hintergrund aktueller Pentateuchmodelle (FAT 58), Tübingen 2008. KRATZ, R. G., “The Idea of Cultic Centralization and Its Supposed Ancient Near Eastern Analogies”, in: R. G. Kratz / H. Spieckermann (eds.), One God – One Cult – One Nation: Archaeological and Biblical Perspectives (BZAW 405), Berlin 2010, 121–144.

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—, “ ‘The peg in the wall’: Cultic Centralization Revisited”, in: A. C. Hagedorn / R. G. Kratz (eds.), Law and Religion in the Eastern Mediterranean: From Antiquity to Early Islam, Oxford 2013, 251–286. LEVINSON, B. M., Deuteronomy and the Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation, New York 1998. LEVTOW, N. B., Images of the Other: Iconic Politics in Ancient Israel, Winona Lake 2008. LOHFINK, N., “Zur deuteronomischen Zentralisationsformel”, Bib. 65 (1984) 297–328 (repr. Studien zum Deuteronomium und zur deuteronomistischen Literatur, vol. 2 [SBAB 12], Stuttgart 1991, 147–178). MARKL, D., review of D. A. Bergen, Dischronology and Dialogic in the Bible’s Primary Narrative, ThPh 85 (2010) 457–459. —, Gottes Volk im Deuteronomium (BZAR 18), Wiesbaden 2012. OTTO, E., Theologische Ethik des Alten Testaments (ThW 3/2), Stuttgart 1994. —, Das Deuteronomium: Politische Theologie und Rechtsreform in Juda und Assyrien (BZAW 284), Berlin 1999. —, Das Deuteronomium im Pentateuch und Hexateuch: Studien zur Literaturgeschichte von Pentateuch und Hexateuch im Lichte des Deuteronomiumrahmens (FAT 30), Tübingen 2000. —, “Rechtshermeneutik in der Hebräischen Bibel. Die innerbiblischen Ursprünge halachischer Bibelauslegung”, in: idem (ed.), Altorientalische und biblische Rechtsgeschichte: Gesammelte Studien (BZAR 8), Wiesbaden 2008, 464–485. —, Das antike Jerusalem: Archäologie und Geschichte (Beck’sche Reihe Wissen 2418), München 2008. —, “Moses Abschiedslied in Deuteronomium 32”, in: idem, Die Tora: Studien zum Pentateuch. Gesammelte Aufsätze (BZAR 9), Wiesbaden 2009, 641–678. —, Deuteronomium 1–11 (HThKAT), Freiburg i. Br. 2012. —, “The History of the Legal-Religious Hermeneutics of the Book of Deuteronomy from the Assyrian to the Hellenistic Period”, in: Hagedorn / Kratz (eds.), Law and Religion in the Eastern Mediterranean, 211–250. —, “Die Theologie des Buches Deuteronomium”, in: S. J. Wimmer / G. Garfus (eds.), “Vom Leben umfangen”: Ägypten, das Alte Testament und das Gespräch der Religionen (ÄAT 80), Münster 2014, 141–148. —, “The Integration of the Post-Exilic Book of Deuteronomy into the Post-Priestly Pentateuch”, in: F. Giuntoli / K. Schmid (eds.), The Post-Priestly Pentateuch: New Perspectives on its Redactional Development and Theological Profiles (FAT 101), Tübingen 2015, 331–341. —, Deuteronomium 21,1–23,15 (HThKAT), Freiburg i. Br. 2016. PIETSCH, M., Die Kultreform Josias: Studien zur Religionsgeschichte Israels in der späten Königszeit (FAT 86), Tübingen 2013. RICHTER, S. L., The Deuteronomistic History and the Name Theology: lešakkēn šemô šām in the Bible and the Ancient Near East (BZAW 318), Berlin 2002. VAN SETERS, J., The Life of Moses: The Yahwist as Historian in Exodus–Numbers (CBET 10), Kampen 1994. VEIJOLA, T., Das 5. Buch Mose: Deuteronomium Kapitel 1,1–16,7 (ATD 8.1), Göttingen 2004.

The Law of the King (Deuteronomy 17:14–20) in the Light of Empire and Destruction Nili Wazana 1. Introduction During most of the last century of its existence, the kingdom of Judah was a vassal of the Neo-Assyrian Empire, subjected to and influenced by its military, political, economic and ideological pressures. This period marks the beginning of the literary process that culminated in the formation of the Bible. At a later stage, the traumatic destruction of Jerusalem and the temple, as well as the cessation of political power and kingship, played a further significant role in the development of biblical literature.1 Among the various ways in which the Assyrian and Babylonian empires affected the lives of the authors of biblical literature, I will focus here on the ideological challenges that are reflected in biblical texts, maybe even causing them to be written. During the Neo-Assyrian period, imperial ideology was transmitted via propaganda, utilized as a tool of control, both internal and imperial.2 Propaganda was disseminated to the literate elite in Assyrian cities and circulated among the subjects in all parts of the empire, enforcing the Assyrian “divinely sanctioned right” to rule the world. The message was loud and clear: a triumphant, victorious Assyrian king vanquishes his arrogant, cunning yet dull-witted and disloyal enemies who dared to resist him.3 Ideological pressure was bound to evoke ideological reactions among the vanquished peoples, Judah included. Assyrian pressure thus cast a giant shadow over the creation of the Bible in its initial phase. The book of Deuteronomy, written mostly in Judah during the seventh century BCE, is an obvious literary candidate for reflecting reactions to this Assyrian pressure and propaganda. The entire book emulates a vassal treaty; its 1

For the application of the concept of trauma to the origins and stages of development of biblical literature see CARR, Holy Resilience. For the general impacts of the Assyrian empire on the periphery dominated by it see DUTCHER-WALLS, “Circumscription”, 609–615 and bibliography there. 2 OPPENHEIM, “Empires”. 3 For the dehumanization, even demonization, of enemies, who are always forced to surrender, die or run away, see LIVERANI, “Ideology”; FALES, “Enemy”; TADMOR, “Propaganda”, esp. 326. Carlo Zaccagnini emphasized the binary depiction of the Assyrian king and his enemy as complete opposites, see ZACCAGNINI, “Urartean”.

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connections to Esarhaddon’s vassal treaties, in particular, are a much-discussed subject.4 Eckart Otto points to the subversive motivation of the book.5 God takes the place of the overlord in Deuteronomy, while the Assyrian king and empire are not mentioned even once. Deuteronomy originated as a political document, providing a religious alternative to Assyrian royal power through the concept of a vassal treaty with God, a unique Israelite feature.6 Otto’s interpretation offers a hidden, implicit polemic underlying the making of the book of Deuteronomy, explaining the avoidance of the “elephant in the room” – contemporary Assyrian political dominance. In this paper I would like to concentrate on one Deuteronomic text, designated “the law of the king” (Deut 17:14–20), and focus on the two distinctive layers that have been distinguished in it. The first, I suggest, reflects reactions to the Assyrian Empire, and was created during the late eighth and early seventh centuries BCE. The second was added after the destruction of Jerusalem, and reflects a change of royal roles in the eyes of the Judeans, in the context of contemporary political institutions. The law of the king will be viewed alongside other prominent texts reflecting anti-monarchial ideology.

2. The King in the Bible in the Light of the Ancient Near Eastern World-View Portraying a single royal ideology, either in the ancient Near East or in the Bible, amounts to creating an artificial “one size fits all” pattern. The Bible, in particular, reflects various different stances towards kingship.7 Nonetheless, it is generally correct that ancient Near Eastern societies presented monarchy as the ultimate form of governance, in both divine and human spheres.8 The Mesopotamian king was deemed as mirroring and compliant with divine order in his role as guardian of world order, responsible for socio-political prosperity 4 On the influence of Assyrian vassal treaties on Deuteronomy see, inter alios, FRANKENA, “Vassal-Treaties”; WEINFELD, Deuteronomic School; STEYMANS, “Vertragsrhetorik”; RÖMER, So-Called, 74–78. Some scholars focus on specific parts of Deuteronomy, notably the law against the provocateur in Deut 13, or the curses in Deut 28; see, inter alios, RÜTERSWÖRDEN, “Dtn 13”; LEVINSON, “Textual Criticism”; idem, “Succession Treaty”. Note also the claim of MORROW, “Paradox”, that the text relies on wider ancient Near Eastern treaty traditions. It must also be noted that Deuteronomy does not mention Assyria even once, while Egypt, its “twin” in prophetic literature, is mentioned 51 times. Accordingly, any reaction to Assyrian power detected in the book is necessarily an implicit one. 5 See, mainly, OTTO, Deuteronomium; also RÖMER, So-Called, 72. 6 “Das spezifisch judäische der JHWH-Religion dieser Zeit ist nicht die Bundestheologie als solche, sondern die Revolte gegen die assyrische Herrschafts- und Königsideologie mittels der Bundestheologie” (OTTO, Gottes Recht, 166). 7 CRÜSEMANN, Widerstand, 1. 8 KNOPPERS, “Deuteronomist”, 329. For earlier literature see ibid., n. 3.

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and security.9 Numerous royal and ritual texts witness this role, which is reflected in his position as the prime intermediary between gods and humans. The significance of monarchy is emphasized by Mesopotamian traditions, such as the Sumerian King List or the story of Etana, which place the foundation of human kingship at the dawn of history. Other Mesopotamian myths present monarchy as a relatively late development in world history, nonetheless depicting it as the crowning achievement, the climax of a process establishing order and prosperity in place of chaos, turmoil and uprising, as in Enuma Elish and its literary predecessors, such as the myth of Anzu.10 A somewhat different depiction of the emergence of human monarchy is reflected in the Assyrian composition “Creation of Kingship”, which describes the special status reserved for the king in Assyria: not deified, but separate from and superior to ordinary people.11 This composition places the creation of the king separately, after the creation of humanity. Following his creation, the king is blessed and given dominion over all people. Holding an intermediary position between the divine and earthly realms, the Assyrian king presented himself to his human subjects as a godlike guardian of order, while simultaneously addressing the gods in prayers and rituals as a humble, repentant and contrite servant.12 “Creation of Kingship” is contemporary with Ashurbanipal’s coronation hymn, where this idea finds expression in the exclamation: “Aššur is king! Indeed Aššur is king! Ashurbanipal is the [representative] of Aššur, the creation of his hands.”13 As Stefan Maul notes, placing the god as the true king of Assyria, while the king fights on his behalf against earthly enemies, became a powerful tool in Assyrian warfare, “ein Motor des assyrischen Imperialismus”.14 Any disobedience or rebellion against Assyrian rule was seen as a religious sin, rewarded accordingly with unwavering, justified cruelty. The conception of an overlapping divine–earthly kingship was thus highly 9

MAUL, “König”. See MAUL, “König”, 209–210. For the myth of Anzu, see the latest edition of Annus, Epic of Anzu; for a translation, see FOSTER, Before the Muses, 555–578. 11 See MAUL, “König”, 207; OTTO, Gottes Recht, 101–102; for edition, see MAYER, “Mythos”; translation by Alasdair Livingstone in Hallo, COS, 1:476–477; FOSTER, Before the Muses, 495–497. For the special status of the Assyrian king, see also RADNER, “Assyrian”, 25, 26. This halfway status is probably relevant even for those Neo-Sumerian kings who were deified and worshipped. As Jacob Klein claims, the deified king was relatively inferior in relation to the pantheon, adopting divine parents and impersonating Dumuzi, the junior husband of Inanna (KLEIN, “Sumerian Kingship”, 131). Accordingly, Klein suggests that “Creation of Kingship” may have had Old Babylonian roots (ibid., 116, n.3). 12 This is what Maul calls “an apparent contradiction”, which indicates the king’s intermediary function (MAUL, “König”, 206–207). 13 LIVINGSTONE, Court Poetry, 26 l. 15. For the connection of the “Creation of Kingship” to Assurbanipal’s coronation hymn see CANCIK-KIRSCHBAUM, “Konzeption”; FOSTER, Akkadian Literature, 54. 14 MAUL, “König”, 212. 10

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effective in the Neo-Assyrian period, serving an imperialistic ideology which affected Assyrian vassals, among them the people of Israel. Many biblical texts adhere to the ancient Near Eastern pattern, drawing parallels between divine and human kingship. In the divine realm, the kingship of God is paramount, explicitly expressed in hymns such as the Song of the Sea: “YHWH will reign for ever and ever!”; ‫( יהוה ימלך לעלם ועד‬Exod 15:18).15 God was considered the universal sovereign, the “great king over all the earth”, ‫( מלך גדול על־כל־הארץ‬Ps 47:3), enthroned from before the flood, king forever (Ps 29:10). In accordance with the ancient Near Eastern conception, in many biblical texts the human king was designated God’s earthly representative, chosen by him. David and Solomon, in particular, are fashioned on recognized models of kingship prevalent in the ancient Near East.16 Some texts recognize the concept of the king being God’s (real or adopted) son – such as Nathan’s oracle (2 Sam 7:14: “I will be a father to him, and he shall be a son to me”, ‫ )אני אהיה־ לו לאב והוא יהיה־ לי לבן‬and, in particular, the royal psalms (Ps 2:7; 89:27–28; 110:3b)17 – a concept well known from ancient Near Eastern and Egyptian royal ideology.18 In the Bible, the king is thus coloured in mythic tones, yet never elevated to divine status. In Mesopotamia, too, the king is “invincible, but not superhuman”.19 However, some Mesopotamian texts come closer to deifying the king. Tukulti-ninurta I (1243–1207 BCE) and Esarhaddon (680–669 BCE) were said to be the image (ṣalmu) of gods.20 According to the 15

For a review of past scholarship and the suggestion of a developing biblical concept of divine kingship see FLYNN, YHWH is King. See SOGGIN, “King”, 677 § 4a. 16 See MCCONVILLE, “King and Messiah”, 272. 17 Reading yĕlidtika “I have begotten you” reflected in the LXX and Peshiṭta for MT yalduteka “your youth” (see BHS). See COLLINS, “King and Messiah”, 296, and earlier bibliography cited therein. 18 The kings’ claim on divine origins is already attested in southern Mesopotamia in the Old Sumerian period, even before the deification of kings – perhaps in metaphorical use (KLEIN, “Sumerian Kingship”, 123–126). The concept of the gods giving birth to the king is found in Assyria first in the epic of Tukulti-ninurta I (1243–1207; see MANN, Divine Presence, 37–38; MACHINIST, “Kingship and Divinity”, 161, l. 17'). The motif of the king as “son of god” is also well attested in Egyptian royal ideology, see OTTO, “Judean Legitimation”, 131–134. Cross (Canaanite Myth, 247, 256–265) dates this conception in Israel (2 Sam 7:11b–16) to the Solomonic period (ibid., 260), originating, in his opinion, in a Canaanite formula of divine sonship, and playing a part in coronation liturgy repeated yearly in Jerusalem. Yet this is a common ancient Near Eastern motif, and its precise dating and practice remain highly conjectural. For dating of the royal psalms to the period of the Israelite monarchy see HAMILTON, Body Royal, 33–34. 19 Quoted from READE, “Ideology and Propaganda”, 331, who referred to the image of the king in Assyrian art. 20 In his victory poem, the Assyrian king Tukulti-ninurta I is given many divine attributes: he is said to be made out of divine flesh (šēr ilāne, l. 16'), he alone is the image (ṣalmu l. 18') of Enlil, and he possesses melammū – the overwhelming divine radiance (l. 12'; MACHINIST, “Kingship and Divinity”, 161–163). Esarhaddon, king of Assur, is also said to

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Priestly narrative, the Hebrew cognate ‫( בצלם אלהים‬Gen 1:27; 9:6) refers to all humanity, who are destined to rule the world and all that is in it (Gen 1:26).21 Placing humanity in the position of kings in relation to the divine sphere is often defined as “democratization”;22 this at the same time indicates a reduction of royal status. According to these biblical traditions, kingship was not brought down from heaven in primeval times, nor was the king created separately, even if he was divinely selected to rule. The king is not profoundly different in any way from other human beings, and kingship is a human enterprise. 2.1 The Assyrian King in the Inscription of Bar-rakib, King of Samʾal While inner Assyrian texts present the king as godlike, yet not quite divine, a somewhat different image of Assyrian kingship may have been transmitted to peripheral, local powers. One possible viewpoint on the Assyrian king is reflected in the inscription of Bar-rakib, a vassal of Tiglath-pileser III (745–727 BCE) from the north Syrian kingdom YʾDY–Samʾal. Bar-rakib carries the Assyrian yoke appreciatively, believing that it has improved the status of Samʾal, and his own, thus wholly embracing the claims of his overlord.23 According to his own narrative, both his patron god and Tiglath-pileser placed him on his father’s throne, rewarding his righteousness (KAI, 216:5–7).24 Both god and king are designated by the same term, mrʾi, “my lord”: “my lord Rakib-el and my lord Tiglath-pileser”, portraying them as parallel.25 The title “my / our lord” is a common royal designation in the Aramaic sphere. Hamilton is reluctant to say that Bar-rakib portrays Tiglath-pileser as divine, “but he is clearly much more than a man, and one can speak of him and a god in the same breath”.26 Machinist allows Tiglath-pileser a somewhat higher status: “Tiglath-pileser functions on the plane of the local dynastic deities in authority and sovereignty, and hence in these functions could be seen as divine”.27 It is remarkable that the point of affinity between the Assyrian overlord and the local dynastic deity consists in the act of placing the king on the throne. This act is explicitly appropriated by Tiglath-pileser III, who claims to have “placed [someone] on be the image (ṣalmu) of gods, in particular of Marduk and Shamash. For texts and discussion see MACHINIST, “Kingship and Divinity”, 170–173; HERRING, Divine Substitution, 39–40. 21 HERRING, Divine Substitution, 105–121. 22 See, among others, WENHAM, Genesis, 30–31; OTTO, Gottes Recht, 96–97; idem, “Judean Legitimation”, 138. 23 MILLER, “Covenant”. 24 HAMILTON, “Past as Destiny”, 229. 25 MACHINIST, “Kingship and Divinity”, 427, n. 57. Hamilton and Machinist also refer to Tiglath-pileser’s testimony to having set up the image (ṣalmu) of himself and those of his gods in Gaza. This, however, reflects the Assyrian side and, furthermore, refers to images which we are unable to reconstruct; thus it is left outside my discussion of the local viewpoints of Assyrian kingship. 26 HAMILTON, “Past as Destiny”, 229. 27 MACHINIST, “Kingship and Divinity”, 428, n. 57.

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the throne” ina kussê šarrūtišu ušēšib when replacing an antagonistic king with a more cooperative one.28 By attributing his kingship to the appointment of both his god and his own king, Bar-rakib is thus reaffirming royal Assyrian claims. The implications of this double assignment, in heaven and on earth, could not have escaped both sides: by acknowledging his divine and earthly king in the same terms Bar-rakib is elevating the Assyrian king to a god-like position.

3. Anti-Monarchial Biblical Texts A radically different royal ideology is reflected in several biblical texts, the oft-designated “anti-monarchial” texts. Far from being seen as a human institution parallel to divine rule, or as an earthly, divinely invested representation of God, kingship is presented in these texts as at best a compromise between the people’s wish and the divine will, a concession to the request of the people (Deut 17:14–20; 1 Sam 8:9). The three prominent texts are: the law of the king (Deut 17:14–20); the people’s request for Gideon to found a dynastic rule and his response, followed by Abimelech’s attempt at kingship and Jotham’s fable (Judg 8:22–23; 9); and the story of the people’s demand for a king and the reaction of Samuel (1 Sam 8; 10:18–19; 12). They are not completely identical in their reservations about monarchy, but they nonetheless all correspond to a conception that God’s kingship is not reflected but contested by an earthly monarchic institution, an institution merely tolerated by God. Accordingly, the law of the king is the only law regarding a public office in Deuteronomy that is not divinely initiated, only tolerated in retrospect (compare 16:18; 18:15).29 28

See his replacement of Uassurme of Tabal with Hulli, “son of nobody” (RINAP 1 47:14'–15'; 49:28); and perhaps also the replacement of Mitinti of Ashkelon with Rukibti (RINAP 122:10'). In the case of installing Hoshea as king of Israel instead of Peqah he uses the phrase “I installed [as king] over them” (ina muḫḫišunu aškun; RINAP 1 42:17'–18'; 49:10), parallel to his usual description of appointing governors. 29 KNOPPERS, “Deuteronomist”, 334. Gerbrandt underplays the significance of the fact that kingship was initiated by the people by comparing it to the people’s wish to eat meat (Deut 12:20) and to their request for an intermediary between themselves and God (Deut 18:16), “in neither case there is any hint that this is wrong” (GERBRANDT, Kingship, 120). The law allowing the consumption of flesh is indeed similar in form (Deut 12:20–28; for a detailed comparison see CARMICHAEL, Laws of Deuteronomy, 104–108) but unrelated to public offices and itself “hints at a tradition in which a request to eat meat was found offensive” as in Num 11 (CARMICHAEL, Laws of Deuteronomy, 107). The passage regarding the office of prophet attributes the initiative explicitly to God (18:15), referring to a specific event in the past – when the people begged to stop direct contact with the divine in fear of death in Horeb (18:16) – rather than to general conditions in the future.

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In its extreme expression, human kingship is considered a rejection of God’s rule. When God orders Samuel to pay heed to the demand of the people, He claims: “for it is not you that they have rejected; it is Me they have rejected as their king!” (1 Sam 8:7; cf. v. 22).30 The idea that human monarchy and divine rule are mutually exclusive is found again in Gideon’s answer to the request from the men of Israel: “Rule over us, you, your son and your grandson”. Gideon flatly refuses, answering: “I will not rule over you myself, nor shall my son rule over you, YHWH shall rule over you” (Judg 8:22–23). The verb in Hebrew is ‫ משל‬rather than ‫מלך‬, but the hereditary character of the office according to the request and answer leaves no doubt as to its significance.31 In the most extreme statement, the people’s desire for human kingship is compared to idolatry, in the words of God to Samuel: “Like everything else they have done ever since I brought them out of Egypt to this day – forsaking Me and worshipping other gods – so they are doing to you” (1 Sam 8:8). Despite this comparison to idolatry, neither here nor anywhere else in the Bible is kingship prohibited altogether. Owing to this discrepancy, and to the large number of Deuteronomistic phrases in this verse, I concur with the common opinion that it is a later addition designed to place the inauguration of monarchy within the greater historical scheme of Israel’s accumulating religious sins.32 The stance toward kingship reflected in the Deuteronomistic History is, however, “ambivalent of monarchy, not hostile toward it”.33 While the royal divine image of God in the Bible (Num 23:21; Deut 33:5) remains in agreement with contemporary ancient Near Eastern notions, the anti-monarchial texts are unique, unparalleled elsewhere in the ancient Near East. These texts sever the umbilical cord connecting the human king to his divine counterpart typical of the ancient Near East and of other biblical texts.34 30 Similarly Samuel says when he appoints the first king: “But today you have rejected your God who delivered you from all your troubles and calamities. For you said: ‘no! set up a king over us’ ” (1 Sam 10:19; see also 12:12b). 31 EMERTON, “Gideon and Jerubbaal”, 297–298; ISHIDA, Royal Dynasties, 185. The root ‫ משל‬often has a more general meaning (cf. Gen 1:18 – the luminaries rule over day and night; 3:16 – husband rules wife; Ps 8:7 – man rules creation), but it also parallels ‫ מלך‬or like designations (Ps 22:29 – God; Mic 5:1, Jer 22:30 – future Davidic ruler). In the story of Gideon the use of this root is intentional, connected to Dtr’s notion that monarchy was inaugurated by Saul, and in connection with Abimelech’s initiative of kingship (DAVIES, “Judges viii”, 151). 32 MCCARTER, I Samuel, 157. A rather different view of monarchy is reflected in the Deuteronomistic historical survey in Samuel’s farewell speech (1 Sam 12:6–15). According to that retrospect on Israel’s apostasy, Israel requested a king in reaction to the threat of Nahash the Ammonite (1 Sam 11). As noted by Stoebe (Das erste Buch Samuelis, 238), this makes the first king one more in the long line of divinely appointed deliverers, though the current text impedes this interpretation by stressing once again that the people’s initiative stands in opposition to God’s kingship (1 Sam 12:12aβ,b–13a). 33 HAMILTON, Body Royal, 123. 34 HENDEL, “Aniconism”, 226 notes this, though proceeding on the basis that “virtually all scholars agree that it has its origins in the pre-monarchic period of Israelite history”.

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3.1 The Law of the King (Deuteronomy 17:14–20) The law of the king disempowers the institution of monarchy.35 Its dating is contested.36 Most scholars assumed that the historical background of the law can shed light on its period of origin, yet results are highly controversial, and opinions vary between dating it to the actual time of the inauguration of the Israelite monarchy,37 Solomonic and early post-Solomonic times, 38 the eighth to seventh centuries,39 exilic or postexilic times,40 or explaining it specifically against the background of the fifth century BCE. 41 A common interpretation, which I follow here, identifies two layers in the law: a preexilic layer expanded by an exilic or postexilic layer.42 The law of the king is unique, unparalleled in other biblical law corpuses or in ancient Near Eastern law codes. The writers of the anti-monarchial passages themselves are aware of the uniqueness of their position, severing the common link between divine and human rule. The people’s will to appoint a king is portrayed as the outcome of their longing to be “like all other nations (about me)” (Deut 17:14; 1 Sam 8:4).The law of the king is, however, not a total rejection of kingship. God adheres to the people’s wish to appoint a human king over them, yet restricts the powerful position, so that “Israel in its land may have a king”.43 The restrictions are of two different kinds: 1. There are two preconditions for the establishment of the king of Israel: a. He must be selected by God (‫)אשר יבחר יהוה אלהיך בו‬. b. He must be an Israelite. This is stated both in the positive – “be sure to set as a king over yourself one of your own people”, ‫ – מקרב אחיך תשים עליך מלך‬and in the negative, as a prohibition – “you must not set a foreigner over you, one who is not your kinsman”, ‫לא תוכל לתת עליך איש נכרי אשר לא־אחיך הוא‬. This is possible, but I suggest the development of the idea is best explained in the period of Assyrian dominance. 35 CRÜSEMANN, Widerstand, 1. 36 The question of the date of the composition of Deuteronomy in general, and of the dates of its sources is one of the major concerns of modern biblical criticism. See NICHOLSON, Deuteronomy and Tradition, 37. I agree with the opinion that the book is a product of literary development, and that its central legal section (chapters 12–26) was composed in the century prior to Josiah’s reform, that is the seventh century BCE. 37 HALPERN, “Uneasy Compromise”, 81–84. 38 CRÜSEMANN, Widerstand, 124 (dating the entire anti-monarchial ideology); CROSS, Cannanite Myth, 221. 39 NORTH, “Estimate”, 1, 4–5; HAMILTON, “Past as Destiny”, 235–236. 40 RÖMER, So-Called, 79–80; 139–141. For a list of adherents of postexilic date see CROUCH, Making of Israel, 177–178, n. 191. 41 HAGEDORN, Moses and Plato, 140–146. 42 For a list of scholars who accept this analysis see HAGEDORN, Moses and Plato, 140, n.193. 43 JOBLING, Sense, 78.

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2. Following on from the preconditions, the king is prohibited from three actions (Deut 17:16–17): a. He must not amass horses, nor return the people to Egypt to add to his horses. The latter proscription is backed by a quotation of the divine command: “since YHWH has warned you: ‘You must not go back that way again’ ”.44 b. He shall not have many wives, lest his heart go astray. c. Nor shall he amass silver and gold to excess. Unlike the former two restrictions, the ban on excessive silver and gold is not followed directly by a reason. As many commentators have observed, v. 20 is the continuation of v. 17,45 and includes the missing reason: “Thus he will not act haughtily toward his fellows or deviate from the instruction to the right or to the left, to the end that he and his descendants may reign long in the midst of Israel”, ‫לבלתי רום־לבבו‬

‫מאחיו ולבלתי סור מן־המצוה ימין ושמאול למען יאריך ימים על־ממלכתו הוא ובניו בקרב‬ ‫ישראל‬. The connection between this motive and the third proscription derives support from a comparison to Deut 8:12–14. Amassing silver and gold, it seems, leads inevitably to acting haughtily, whether towards God, in chapter 8, or fellow men in the law of the king.46

The last reviser of the law of the king combined vv. 18–19 with the existing law, requesting that the king write a copy of the book for himself, ‫משנה התורה‬ ‫הזאת‬, and regularly read it. As Norbert Lohfink noticed, this is the only place within Deut 12–26 that calls the corpus itself Torah, this designation appearing otherwise only in the sections around the centre of the book.47 Since the law 44

We have no such command in the Bible, though the notion that return to Egypt is against God’s will is implied in several of the Exodus and wandering traditions (Exod 13:17; 14:13; Num 14:3–4; see DRIVER, Deuteronomy, 211). Von Rad points to Deut 28:68, where YHWH threatens to send the people back to Egypt in galleys as a punishment, “by a route which I told you, you shall [JPS: should] not see again” (VON RAD, Deuteronomy, 119). For the relationship between Deut 17:16 and 28:68 and earlier literature regarding this issue see REIMER, “Return to Egypt”. I find, however, Reimer’s conclusion that the divine punishment in chapter 28 was turned into a royal prohibition in chapter 17 unlikely. Even if the change to second person plural in 16b indicates that that part of the verse is an addition (consisting of the phrase “since YHWH … that way again”), the prohibition itself “nor return the people to Egypt … horse” (17:16aβ) belongs to the original formation of the law (cf. 17a), and according to this analysis is preexilic. 45 VON RAD, Deuteronomy, 119. 46 According to Hagedorn (Moses and Plato, 144) the law is social in nature, “… it is illegitimate to increase one’s own wealth at the cost of others” (see also SCHÄFERLICHTENBERGER, Josua und Salomo, 79, who sees this prohibition as referring to the king’s tax policy). Yet unlike 1 Sam 8:11–17, where the accumulation of slaves, fields and property is taken from the people and the king thrives at their expense, I do not see a “zero-sum game” at the root of this law. The accumulation of horses, wives and riches is not depicted as occurring at the expense of others. 47 LOHFINK, “Distribution”, 344. To the secondary, editorial, character of the word “Torah” referring to Deuteronomy in 17:18 see also HEATON, Hebrew Kingdoms, 225, ascribing it to the Deuteronomistic Historian; MAYES, Deuteronomy, 273. “Torah” is mentioned in Deut. 1:5; 4:8, 44; 27:3, 8, 26; 28:58, 61; 29:20, 28; 30:10; 31:9, 11, 12, 24, 26; 32:46; 33:4. Levinson (“Reconceptualization”, 523) likewise agrees that the word “Torah” refers here to the legal corpus of Deut 12–26, and calls this verse “self-reflexive”, contrasting it with Deut 17:11,

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of the king is at the heart of this unit, the redactional character of the only positive command in the law of the king is clear.48 Let us examine the first couple of preconditions: the king must be selected by God, and he must be a brother Israelite. Scholars have regarded this double condition as problematic. Some view the first stipulation, conveyed merely by a relative sentence “whom Yahweh, your God, will choose” (‫אשר יבחר‬ ‫)יהוה אלהיך בו‬, as a secondary expansion, limiting the original law to 17:15b–17, 20.49 Others have noted that the first stipulation, emphasizing that the king must be chosen by God, surely also covers his Israelite origin, rendering the explicit directive to appoint an Israelite and the prohibition on appointing a foreigner gratuitous.50 Yet both prerequisites are significant for the formulators of the law. The appointment of a brother Israelite, doubly emphasized, is central to the law, and cannot be secondary. The divine sanction, too, is crucial. What happens when the people appoint “a brother” who is not divinely sanctioned or otherwise suitable for the task is demonstrated in the story of Abimelech, describing the first attempt at monarchy in Israel (Judg 9). Abimelech’s only advantage over his seventy paternal brothers is his kinship to the Shechemites, whom he addresses: “and remember, I am your own flesh and blood”, ‫( וזכרתם כי עצמכם ובשרכם אני‬Judg 9:2), and they are convinced: “for they thought, ‘he is our kinsman’ ”, ‫( כי אמרו אחינו הוא‬Judg 9:3).51 This highlighted kinship seems to relate to the very requirement stated by the prohibition on appointing “one who is not your kinsman”, ‫אשר לא־אחיך הוא‬ (Deut 17:15). Abimelech’s first act, however, is precisely to kill his kinsmen, his brothers – ‫( אחיו‬Judg 9:5; see again in 9:24 where he is also called “their ‫התורה אשר יורוך‬, where “torah” may still refer to individual ruling or instruction, rather than to a legal corpus with a capital T. 48 For the designation “last reviser” see LOHFINK, “Distribution”, 343–344. For the secondary insertion of vv. 18–19 see also ALT, “Heimat”, KS II, 264, n. 3. See Mettinger, (King and Messiah, 289–290), who attributes this insertion to the “nomistic redactor DtrN”, along with Josh 1:7–8, 1 Kgs 2:3. For a list of scholars who regard Deut 17:18–19 as secondary, see GERBRANDT, Kingship, 105, n. 5; KNOPPERS, “Deuteronomist”, 335, n. 22. I find most other suggestions discerning later additions in the law based on variations in style highly speculative. See review in SCHÄFER-LICHTENBERGER, Josua und Salomo, 70–85. 49 MERENDINO, Gesetz, 179–182 also attributes other elements, such as the prohibition on amassing silver and gold (17:b), to the Deuteronomistic redactor. 50 See JOBLING, Sense, 59. 51 “Just because he is your kinsman”, ‫( כי אחיכם הוא‬v.18), is reiterated in Jotham’s speech. The flesh and bone motif reappears in the words of Israel to David before his enthronement over all Israel (2 Sam 5:1) and in David’s words to the elders of Judah after Abshalom’s revolt, when he is campaigning to be reinstated as king (2 Sam 19:13: “you are my kinsmen, my own flesh and blood”, ‫)אחי אתם עצמי ובשרי אתם‬, and seems to belong to a scene of negotiation before royal appointment (cf. David’s address to Amasa, 2 Sam 19:14; otherwise attested in Laban’s words regarding Jacob, Gen 29:14, and literally in Gen 2:23). David is a brother, like Abimelech, but he is also an established military leader (2 Sam 5:2; 19:10) and designated by God (2 Sam 5:2).

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brother”, and 9:56) – thus ironically proving his unsuitability as king despite his “brotherly” status. The story of Abimelech seems to highlight the dangers inherent in appointing an inappropriate person (a “thornbush”), his unsuitability stemming from the fact that he was never sanctioned by God, even if he was a brother and not a foreigner.52 3.1.1 The Israelite Origin of the King Finding a realistic anchor for the second precondition is highly problematic. There never was a situation in which a foreign king ruled Israel or Judah. Jeremiah’s prophecy regarding Israel (termed “Jacob”) similarly stresses this point, promising that “his ruler shall come from his midst”, ‫ומשלו מקרבו יצא‬ (Jer 30:21aβ).53 If Jeremiah’s prophecy stems from a preexilic recension relating to the north, Holladay may be correct in his assessment that “the implication is that the north will no longer be under the rule of Assyria but will have Josiah instead”.54 Foreign rule is depicted in Jeremiah as enslavement by strangers, ‫( זרים‬Jer 30:8), a time of trouble, ‫( עת צרה‬Jer 30:7). In regard to the law of the king, Nicholson is probably right in his conclusion that “the prohibition … was based not upon some isolated, passing incident … but upon circumstances in which Israel was indeed … subject to the rule and authority of a foreign king”.55 52

The view of many scholars that Judg 9 refers to a Canaanite population in Shechem (see, for example, DAUBE, “Brethren”), is based on an analysis removed from the framework of the book of Judges (Judg 8:33–35; 9:55–57). The Canaanite background is a moot point (see EMERTON, “Gideon and Jerubbaal”, 295–296, n. 1, contra KAUFMANN, Judges, 196, 207), and one not suggested by the story itself. Despite the reference to the temple of Baal-berith (Judg 9:4) as “the temple of their god” (v. 27), the main message of the story is internal, dealing with the enemy from within. The theological redaction formula common to the book of Judges claims that “after Gideon died, the Israelites again went astray after the Baalim, and they adopted Baal-berith as their god” (Judg 8:33). This is also how Jotham’s fable, dealing with internal social and political processes, interprets the situation. The sequence puts Abimelech – the first Israelite king – in the role of the enemy (see SIMON, “Parable of Jotham”, 2). Furthermore, the book of Judges already has a story in which the Canaanites are staged explicitly as external enemies to which God surrendered the Israelites (Judg 4–5). The historical reality of the Iron Age I aside, the story of Abimelech, in the context of the book of Judges, makes sense only if Abimelech and the Shechemites are Israelite, as indeed they are depicted as being (Judg 9:55; cf. also 2 Sam 11:21). 53 For Jer 30:21 in connection with the law of the king see GALLING, “Königsgesetz”, col. 135; HOLLADAY, Jeremiah, 179. 54 HOLLADAY, Jeremiah, 179. Others have suggested a much later date of composition, in the postexilic period, Persian and even Greek (see references in MCKANE, Jeremiah, 773–774). It is also questionable whether the use of the noun “ruler”, ‫משל‬, here rather than “king”, ‫מלך‬, indicates the political-historical setting, or intended prophetic opacity (WEISER, Jeremia, 274). 55 NICHOLSON, “Do Not Dare”, 48.

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We may thus surmise that the emphasis of the law on the Israelite origins of the king probably points to the rejection of the possibility that Judah, an Assyrian vassal ruled by a Davidic king, will become a province like its northern sister, Israel, ruled by a foreigner. Thus the law emphasizes the Israelite origin of the king who must be “one of your own people”, ‫מקרב אחיך‬. Yet within the Deuteronomic world-view that is not enough. In Deuteronomy, often the greatest danger to Israel’s integrity is posed by what Louis Stulman refers to as “indigenous insiders”, precisely those closest to you, who come from among you, ‫מקרבך‬/‫( ב‬Deut 13:2, 14; 17:2), even one who is “your brother … or your son or daughter, or the wife of your bosom, or your closest friend” (Deut 13:7).56 Therefore, he must also be chosen by God. Nothing is said about the Davidic dynasty. According to this ideology all of Israel may equally be chosen for kingship, in opposition to the notion of one – Davidic – chosen royal family. In Deuteronomy all of Israel is as God’s “son” (Deut 1:31: “YHWH your God carried you, as a man carries his son”, ‫אשר נשאך יהוה אלהיך כאשר ישא־איש‬ ‫)את־בנו‬, contrary to the notion of the king as the (real or adopted) son of God familiar from the royal psalms (above). 3.1.2 The Law of the King and the Reign of Solomon The position of the king is circumscribed by three prohibitions: against amassing horses, women, and silver and gold. Scholars have long noticed that the prohibitions fitted the characteristics attributed to Solomon’s rule.57 The three traits are mentioned together in describing his regime, though in a different order; Solomon procured many chariots and horses, as well as silver, and loved “many foreign women” (1 Kgs 10:26–11:6).58 As in the law of the king, here also Egypt is mentioned in the context of horses (1 Kgs 10:26–29; cf. 5:6, where Egypt is not mentioned): Solomon assembled 1400 chariots and 12,000 horses …. Solomon’s horses were procured from Egypt and Que (Cilicia) …. A chariot imported from Egypt cost 600 shekels of silver, and a horse 150 … (1 Kgs 10:26; 28).

Accordingly, scholars claimed that the law in Deuteronomy was not antimonarchial as such, for “Solomon’s sins are echoed in this law”.59 Others 56

STULMAN, “Encroachment”. R. Isaac in b. Sanh. 21b; COGAN, I Kings, 323; HEATON, Hebrew Kingdoms, 226. BRETTLER, “Structure”, 92 sees a “genetic relationship between 1 Kgs 11, 1–10 and Dtn 17,7a”, considering Deuteronomy as the source, rather than Kings (ibid., 93). See also DRIVER, Deuteronomy, 211. 58 BRETTLER, “Structure”, 94, tries to explain the change in order in light of his view that the text in 1 Kgs used the law of the king to evaluate Solomon negatively. 59 WEINFELD, Deuteronomic School, 168. See also SMITH, Deuteronomy, 224. CROSS, Canaanite Myth, 240, claims that the anti-monarchic law of the king and Samuel’s rule of the king (1 Sam 8:11–18) “singles out and proscribes the specific innovations of Solomon”. 57

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have noted, however, that the three traits were undoubtedly relevant for many other kings, both in Israel and in Judah, and cannot be interpreted as referring to one particular king.60 Furthermore, Solomon’s description is not totally critical of him, nor uncomplimentary. Unlike the law of the king, which treats the increase of horses and riches separately, the description of Solomon’s magnitude connects the two together, mentioning the high price Solomon paid for the cavalry. His accumulation of silver and horses is, in fact, admirable and not deplorable, in line with previous descriptions of the wealth he obtained, making him the richest, as well as the wisest, king on earth (1 Kgs 10:23). As noted by Gary Knoppers, God promised Solomon wealth at Gibeon (1 Kgs 3:13), hence its accumulation is a sign of divine favour.61 The description of Solomon’s astounding riches and his cavalry complements his great wisdom and explains why everyone sought his company, bringing him lavish and exotic presents. Mentioned next, Solomon’s procuring many wives certainly is criticized (1 Kgs 11:6), but there is an emphasis on the fact that these wives were foreign, which was clearly the source of the problem: King Solomon loved many foreign women, in addition to Pharaoh’s daughter – Moabite, Edomite, Phoenician and Hittite women. From the nations of which YHWH had said to the Israelites: “None of you shall join them, and none of them shall join you, lest they turn your heart away to follow their gods”. Such Solomon clung to, and loved. He had seven hundred royal wives and three hundred concubines, and his wives turned his heart away”. (1 Kgs 11:1–3).

The law of the king curtails the number of wives, and not their foreignness.62 In Solomon’s case his foreign wives have “turned his heart away to follow their gods” (1 Kgs 11:2, 4). The wives are the subject, and the verb is ‫י‬/‫נטה‬ in Hiphil: ‫הטו‬, a transitive verb. In the law, the king’s heart is the subject, and the verb is ‫ סור‬in Qal: lest his heart go astray, ‫ולא יסור לבבו‬, an intransitive form of the verb. Furthermore, the reason given for the law does not mention idolatry. The king may not have many wives regardless of their nationality. The verb ‫סור‬, “turning away (of the heart)”, is a typical Deuteronomistic phrase and it can refer to apostasy (Deut 11:16), but apostasy is not stated here explicitly. It may also refer to general disobedience to God’s ordinances (Deut 17:11), as explained after the third prohibition: “deviate from the instruction to the right or to the left” ‫( ולבלתי סור מן המצוה ימין ושמאול‬Deut 17:20).63 Contrary to the common understanding already suggested by Qumranic interpretation (11QT 57:15–19) and the Mishnah (Sanh. 2:4), the law of the king is not 60

MAYES, Deuteronomy, 272. KNOPPERS, “Deuteronomist”, 337. 62 See KNOPPERS, “Deuteronomist”, 343: “in so far as spouses are an issue, exogamy and not polygamy is the Deuteronomist’s concern”. 63 See also Deut 5:32 in comparison to 28:14. For a list of Dt. And Dtr. texts using ‫סור‬ see HOFFMANN, Reform, 332. 61

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concerned with the danger of idolatry,64 or with the purity of Israel. Foreign worship is conspicuously missing from it. In the light of the differences between the description of Solomon’s deeds and the law of the king it is impossible that the latter is simply echoing Solomon’s sins. Nor can it be polemicizing against the description of Solomon, prohibiting the accumulation of horses and riches – positive attributes of Solomon. If this was the case, why is Solomon’s greatest sin – apostasy, a favourite Deuteronomic subject – completely missing from the law, together with the mention of the foreign origin of the wives? I do not necessarily see a direct, “genetic” link between the two texts. Both the law of the king and the description of Solomon’s grandeur adhere to a third concept: the symbolic characteristics of an empire. The texts depict ruling an empire from two opposite viewpoints. The description of Solomon’s reign “generally comports with ancient Near Eastern royal propaganda”.65 The law of the king rejects it. 3.1.3 The Prohibition against Amassing Horses, Wives and Riches Weinfeld compares the law of the king to the genre known as “instructions to the king” found in Mesopotamia and Egypt.66 In such instructions the king is warned to behave justly toward his subjects and to fulfil his roles. Weinfeld stresses the similarities to the law of the king, such as the advice not to covet money.67 Yet the differences are even more striking. The law of the king deals with unique conditions, which have nothing to do with the king’s major roles, military, religious or juristic. It does not deal with internal political struggles, nor does it empower other elites, which are not even mentioned.68 Its negative formulation deserves explanation. The prohibition against amassing horses, or taking the people back to Egypt to add to his horses, should be explained in the light of Hosea 11:5, where the return of the people to Egypt is linked to Assyrian vassalage (“They return to the land of Egypt, and Assyria is their king”, ‫לא ישוב אל־ארץ מצרים ואשור‬ ‫)הוא מלכו‬, and belongs to the realm of political covenants.69 The prohibition’s 64

See HAGEDORN, Moses and Plato, 143. KNOPPERS, “Deuteronomist”, 341. 66 WEINFELD, Deuteronomy 1–11, 56–57. See the criticism of KNOPPERS, “Deuteronomist”, 329, n. 2. 67 In particular he refers to “the advice to the prince” from the library of Ashurbanipal, and its colophon, which speaks of writing the instruction on tablets and putting it in the palace for the king’s constant reading (WEINFELD, Deuteronomy 1–11, 56). This refers, however, to the Deuteronomistic addition to the law, Deut 17:18–19, whereas the original law did not assign the king any positive obligations, not even that of a devout student of the Torah. See below. 68 This is the assumption of DUTCHER-WALLS, “Circumscription”, 607–609. 69 For the connection between Deut 17:16; 28:68 and Hos 8:13; 11:5, see WEINFELD, Deuteronomic School, 168; LOHFINK, “Hos. xi”, 227. WELLHAUSEN, Composition, 358, had already remarked briefly on the connection of Deut 17:16 to Hosea. 65

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goal is primarily to prevent the multiplication of horses “such as were intended for use in war”.70 The injunction here is therefore directed against the possibility of acting as an empire by forming a significant army or uniting with other empires.71 The significance of cavalry power for the empire is reflected also in the biblical story of Sennacherib’s campaign. Rabshakeh brags that his master, the Assyrian king, can give Hezekiah 2,000 horses, for which the king of Judah cannot provide riders, ridiculing at the same time the ability of Egypt to provide a chariot force (2 Kgs 18:23–24). This emphasis relies on the same equation between cavalry power and empire.72 Multiplication of wives similarly points to the ruler of an empire. International marriages involve the exchange of royal wives and concubines with neighbouring and vassal kingdoms, and are an important aspect of diplomatic relationships. Along with horses, and silver and gold, amassing wives represents empire, being an essential component of an empire’s strategic politics. It is noteworthy that the author of the law chose these three traits – the amassing of horses, wives and riches – out of all possible symbols of royal power. He does not refer to other manifestations of this power, such as building projects, in particular temple-palace complexes, or royal achievements, such as administering justice, ministering as high priest or celebrating victories 70

DRIVER, Deuteronomy, 211. There is nothing in the law that speaks of the role of the army in defence, a notion that arises from harmonizing this verse with the description of the attacking enemy with horses and chariots (Deut 20:1), as suggested by Gerbrandt (Kingship, 111). The law also says nothing about keeping military technology in the hands of others, an elite class in Israel, while prohibiting accumulation of horses by the king (contra DUTCHER-WALLS, “Circumscription”, 608). For horses and their symbolic meaning in the Bible, see DOLGOPOLSKY-GEVA, “Horses”. 71 REIMER, “Return to Egypt”, 226 points to the prophetic tradition forbidding reliance on Egypt (Isa 31:1; Ezek 29:16). Yet it is precisely this nuance which is missing in the law. The king’s reason for “returning the people to Egypt” is not to rely on its help as the regional superpower, but to amass horses, i.e., to build a massive army and create his own empire. The return to Egypt as punishment (Hos 8:13; 9:3; Deut 28:68) does not contradict this interpretation. In Hosea, the people who willingly fall under the Egyptian political yoke should not be surprised if they find themselves back as slaves in Egypt. As for Deut 28, Donald Schley suggested that the threat to send the people back to Egypt by ship makes sense in the light of Ashurbanipal’s first campaign against Egypt (SCHLEY, “Return to Egypt”, 667), when his annals report that he was accompanied by the troops of his 22 vassals by land and by sea – Manasseh, King of Judah, being one of them. The relevant passage is found in version A of the annals, which is admittedly the latest: “I made these (22) kings accompany my army over the land as well as (over) the sea-route with their armed forces” (ANET, 294). Manasseh is listed among the 22 faithful vassals of Esarhaddon in 676 in cylinder C (ANET, 291). 72 The same symbols are also mentioned in the Song of Songs, where the beloved is likened to “a mare in Pharaoh’s chariots” and will be adorned with “wreaths of gold” and “spangles of silver” (Cant 1:9–11), and where “sixty queens and eighty concubines, and damsels without number” are compared to “the one” (Cant 6:8–9). The imagery is based on the same set of symbols for imperial grandeur.

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over men, animals or natural obstacles.73 Public building projects and military campaigning are the most prominent features apparent in the local kings’ royal inscriptions, such as the stele of Mesha, king of Moab, and the building activities mentioned by Zakkur, king of Hamath.74 If local kingship was being criticized here it would seem that these features should have been targeted, yet they are not considered problematic in the law of the king. The law also does not mention deploying a tax system, or building a regular army – major royal prerogatives of the king as head of state and leader of the army, spelt out by Samuel in “the right of the king” (‫ ;משפט המלך‬1 Sam 8:11–17).75 This law is not expressing opposition to centralized royal administration as such.76 The law is, therefore, not targeting local kingship but the building of an empire. The three excesses prohibited by Deuteronomy are integral to ancient empires, and may even be considered as prerequisites for establishing one. Samuel R. Driver was close to the mark when rephrasing them in one sentence: “he is not … to imitate the great despots of the east”.77 The horses are necessary for building a significant army, capable of executing large-scale, open field battles. No major military force in the first millennium BCE could succeed without a significant chariot force. Keeping a professional chariot force is extremely expensive, and requires specialization as well as reliance on international trade. Thus the description of Solomon’s days is applauding him for accumulating horses and riches, whereas the law of the king curtails such accumulation, effectively prohibiting the possibility of Israel building an empire.78 This 73 READE, “Ideology and Propaganda”, 331; in regard to Sennacherib see RUSSEL, Sennacherib’s Palace, 241–267. For similar typological royal symbols in Assyrian art see READE, “Ideology and Propaganda”; MAGEN, Assyrische Königsdarstellungen. 74 Mostly these achievements are contrasted with the dire state of affairs prevalent in the days of the king’s predecessor (GREEN, Great Works, 86, 120–121, 146–147). 75 Pace the opinion cited by KNOPPERS, “Deuteronomist”, 332: “If Samuel’s speeches (1 Sam 8,10–18; 10,17–19; 12,1–25) detail the kinds of oppression that monarchs could inflict upon their people, the authors of Dtn 17,14–20 prohibit such abuse of power”. For the differences between the law of the king and the right of the king see also HAMILTON, “Past as Destiny”, 238. 76 For scholars of this opinion see MCCONVILLE, “King and Messiah”, 276. 77 Cf. KAI 202. DRIVER, Deuteronomy, 209. 78 In the book of Isaiah, criticisms of amassing silver, gold, horses and chariots are again bound together: “They abound in customs of the aliens, their land is full of silver and gold, there is no limit to their treasures, their land is full of horses, there is no limit to their chariots. And their land is full of idols…” (Isa 2:6b–8a). These verses speak of the people and not of the king, and refer only to the amassing of gold, silver and horses, yet the reasoning is closer to the negative description of Solomon’s accumulation of multiple wives than to the law of the king. The question of national distinctiveness is tied closely to religious exclusivity, and Isaiah explicitly rejects amassing treasures and horses because of their association with foreign religions, leading the people astray. BECKER, Jesaja, 172–173, suggested that these verses were late, postexilic reflections which took the examples of amassing riches and horses from the story of Solomon and the law of the king as an example of pride and hubris, the

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answers the question Gary Knoppers asks: “If the Deuteronomist considered it illegitimate for kings to hoard silver, gold, wives or horses, why does he not criticize rulers according to these criteria?” 79 The law expresses an antiimperial polemic, and is not anti-monarchial as such. 3.2 The Law of the King and Assyrian Rule Considering that the core of the Deuteronomic law corpus is to be dated to the seventh century – composed at a time when Judah was a vassal of Assyria or in the immediate aftermath of the Assyrian regime – this law must be evaluated against the background of Assyrian domination. Building upon sociological studies of the relationship between centre and periphery, Patricia DutcherWalls claimed that, by proscribing the accumulation of horses, wives and riches, the law of the king “adapted its own concept of kingship to the necessary requirements of survival for a monarch on the periphery of the major world empire of its time”,80 maintaining a loyal relationship with Assyria. While I agree with her analysis that the law restricts particularly those facets of royal power pertinent to building an empire, in my view it points in the opposite direction. The inscription of Bar-rakib, king of Samʾal, discussed above, represents what a text confirming Assyrian royal claims and the status of a loyal vassal of Assyria looks like. The law of the king is nothing like it. On the contrary, it is probably a polemic against Assyrian rule, dressed up as a circumscription of empire in general, representing a very different kind of survival strategy. The issue is indeed the distinctiveness of Israel, its need to be a true vassal of its God alone, unlike all the other nations under the Assyrian yoke. By emphasizing a theology of covenant between God and Israel, the authors of Deuteronomy rejected Assyrian rule as a direct threat against God and his authority. The law of the king specifically shows that its authors feared the possibility of Judah becoming an Assyrian province, under direct Assyrian rule. The distinctiveness of Israel during the seventh century required it to reject the Assyrian yoke as opposed to divine rule, if not in practice, then in ideology. The Assyrian concept of kingship developed parallel to the growth of its political power.81 With the expansion of Assyrian power the title of the king transforms “from that of simply ‘vice-regent’ (iššiʾakku), i.e., simply a representative of the real ruler (the god Ashur), to that of ‘the king’ (šarru)”.82 Within Assyria, the title “king” was reserved for the king of Assyria alone.83 subject of the following verses (Isa 2:12–17). For the opposite opinion, see HAGEDORN, Moses and Plato, 142. He believes the verses in Deuteronomy can be dated to the fifth century. 79 KNOPPERS, “Deuteronomist”, 337. 80 DUTCHER-WALLS, “Circumscription”, 615. 81 For this point see GRAYSON, “Early Development”, 312. 82 GRAYSON, “Early Development”, 315. 83 RADNER, “Assyrian”, 26.

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Foreign rulers were designated by their land of origin – “the Urartian”,84 or “the Šubrian”.85 According to Karen Radner the three prerequisites of Assyrian kingship were:86 1. Descent from the male line of a specific family;87 2. Divine legitimation, necessary already for the appointment as crown prince; 3. Ability to rule, to be demonstrated already when crown prince.

It seems that the prerequisites in the law of the king correspond to the Assyrian demands in two different ways: a. The requirement that the king must be chosen by God is equivalent to the necessary divine legitimation demanded of the Assyrian crown prince. Divine election was a common precondition in the ancient Near East in general.88 It is no surprise, therefore, that it is the first attribute of the king: he is, above all, the king “whom Yahweh, your God, will choose” (Deut 17:15). b. The Deuteronomic law emphasizes that the king must be an Israelite, any Israelite – one of your brothers. As noted earlier, this curious precondition seems to stand at the heart of the law, doubly emphasized, the only demand placed upon the people. This key phrase relates to the Assyrian demand that the king be a descendant of a specific family, created specially by the goddess Belet-ili. Unlike the former precondition, this one does not follow the royal Assyrian conventions but opposes them, particularly rejecting the possibility that the Assyrian king will rule over Israel.

The combination of the two preconditions with curtailing the three major traits of empire locates the law as a polemic against Assyrian rule. Seen together with the entire plan of the book of Deuteronomy – which depicts God as the king of the universe, the overlord in charge of life and death, the ruler responsible for enacting blessings and curses on Israel in accordance with how they comply with his rules – the law of the king makes perfect sense. It is not a critique of a specific Israelite or Judean king. In fact, in the seventh century BCE Judah was probably unable to maintain a significant chariot force, and had to rely on Egypt for such services.89 We have no knowledge of a king who had many wives at this stage, and how much silver and gold is too much is also questionable, but it is unlikely that the seventh-century kings, who were loyal 84

See, for example, SAA V 35:19, 24; SAA V 113: rev. 3. SAA V 25:7; SAA V 33:7. 86 RADNER, “Assyrian”, 27. 87 This seems to be an innovation of the Amorite dynasty, which ruled Babylon during the first half of the second millennium BCE. See LAMBERT, “Kingship”, 61–63. The poetic description of Nebuchadnezzar I (1124–1103 BCE) calls him “seed that has been watched for since before the deluge”, claiming a primaeval lineage (LAMBERT, “Seed of Kingship”; FRAME, Rulers of Babylonia, 23–28; FOSTER, Before the Muses, 376–380). 88 For divine royal election in the Neo-Babylonian sphere see JURSA, “Neo-Babylonian Empire”, 122. 89 DOLGOPOLSKY-GEVA, “Horses”, 80. 85

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vassals of Assyria, could accumulate much personal wealth. The law of the king is thus not an internal Israelite polemic, but a reaction against Assyrian pressure, a cry against the Assyrian yoke, and a warning against being transformed into an Assyrian province, ruled by a foreigner. Accordingly, it is not directed towards the king, in second person (cf. the address to the judges in Deut 16:19–20), but towards the people.90 This text signals that it is the concept of empire that is foreign “like all other nations”, not Israelite kingship. This is implied in the text, hidden under the guise of the people’s initial request to establish kingship, as well as the story of how kingship was established in 1 Samuel. The fact that this polemic is implicit is perhaps evidence of the need to be careful about the ideology expressed under the yoke of the empire. While Assyria is not mentioned at all in the book of Deuteronomy, contemporary audiences were probably capable of deciphering the anti-Assyrian message encoded in the text. The anti-monarchial attitude is thus a reaction to royal images of the Assyrian king, as propagated under Assyrian rule and understood by a vanquished people. The model of kingship Deuteronomy sanctions is restricted and limited in the very characteristics typifying empires: horses, diplomatic marriages and riches. It also depicts a very different character for “citizen number one” in the kingdom, in opposition to the Assyrian version: the king may be any Israelite, one of your brothers, no one special. God is the one true overlord of Israel, and its loyalty is to him alone.91

4. Babylonian Ritual Humiliation of the King In this context, one ancient Near Eastern ritual which symbolically restricts monarchic power comes to mind. According to Late Babylonian texts, the Akitu festival, celebrated in Babylon, included a ritual humiliation of the king on the fifth day of Nissan.92 On this day the high priest stripped the king of his royal regalia, dragged him by the ears and, in the presence of the god alone, slapped him on the face and made him kneel down. The king then made a negative confession, a series of denials of royal sins, in the first person, referring to his religious duties, such as not neglecting Bel’s (= Marduk’s) divinity and not having forgotten the rites of his temple, his responsibility to the city and his care for his subjects (“I did not destroy Babylon, I did not order its overthrow … I did not slap the face of any citizen; I did not humiliate them … I did not destroy its walls”).93 90 For this difference between the restrictions in the address to the judges and in the law of the king see SCHÄFER-LICHTENBERGER, Josua und Salomo, 73. 91 For this well-known phenomenon see recent surveys of methodological assumptions in WEEKS, Admonition, 134–142; OTTO, Gottes Recht, 128–166. 92 THUREAU-DANGIN, Rituels, 127–154; translated by A. J. Sachs in ANET, 331–334, COHEN, Cultic Calendars, 441–447. 93 THUREAU-DANGIN, Rituels, 144, ll.424–430; COHEN, Cultic Calendars, 447.

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The divine answer began with the encouragement formula lā tapallaḫ, “fear not”, promising the king prosperity and military success.94 When the royal regalia – sceptre, circlet, mace and crown – were returned to the king, the high priest slapped his cheek again, and it was necessary for tears to flow as a sign of divine favour. As the historian of religion Jonathan Z. Smith notes, there is an “element of incongruity” in the humiliating ritual as well as in the negative confession of the king.95 He suggested that the negative confession reflects the acts of foreign rulers, and the king is denying that he is acting as one: “If you act as the foreign evil kings have acted, you will be stripped of your kingship by the gods; if you act in the opposite manner, ‘the scepter, and crown and the sword shall be restored to the king’ ”.96 In order to resolve the element of incongruity arising from this humiliation of the king, he places the ritual in the context of a native response to foreign domination.97 Both the negative content of the law of the king and the negative confession of the Babylonian king focus on what the king should not do or did not do. They arouse a similar feeling of incongruity, reflected in the attempts to relate the biblical law to a specific historical situation. Smith’s insightful interpretation that the incongruity reflects a crisis, a clash between the sense of world order and reality, may help elucidate the connection between the prohibition of foreign rule, doubly stressed in the law of the king, and the negative injunctions as reactions to political subjugation. There is, however, also a major difference between the two texts. The annual humiliation of the Babylonian king was constrained in space and time, and intended to confirm his status as the human agent of the divine realm. On the one hand, it reinforced the king’s humanity and his conditional right to rule in the eyes of his god, the real lord of Babylon. It had an apotropaic function which made it harder for the king to abuse his power.98 At the same time, the ritual 94

For this function of the formula see NISSINEN, “Fear Not”, 132. SMITH, “Pearl”. 96 SMITH, Map, 73. Smith connects this religious-nationalistic ritual to the reading of Enuma Elish during the New Year festival, the myth culminating in the creation of Babylon and Marduk’s temple, Esagila, composed during the first Assyrian domination of Babylon (c. 1200 BCE). 97 Smith’s view of the ritual text as a response to the Seleucid overthrow of Babylon was rightly criticized by Sommer (“Akitu Festival”). Yet, while helpful in reasserting the cosmic-renewal dimensions of the festival, Sommer’s explanation of the negative confession in relation to the symbolical destruction of the temple during the second day of the Akitu festival (ibid., 87), does not explain the other actions mentioned by the king in the confession, such as humiliating the citizens or destroying the walls of the city, and thus is not sufficient to resolve the incongruity. Even if the negative confession may coincide with descriptions of the actions of native Babylonian kings such as Nabu-šum-iškun (760–748 BCE; SOMMER, “Akitu Festival”, 85), the purport seems to me to tend in the opposite direction: by relating destructive actions to him, it implicitly accuses the Babylonian king of behaving as an enemy. 98 HAMILTON, Body Royal, 123, also locates the description of kingship in 1 Sam 8 as a similar ritualized restriction of monarchic power, among other texts limiting the evil acts of kings, rather than foreign enemies. 95

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stripping off and renewed investiture with the royal insignia symbolized the renewal of kingship and enhanced the king’s roles,99 and is thus in no way anti-monarchial. While the Babylonian king is the human regent of the god and must answer to him, kingship plays an extremely significant role in the major earthly functions, confirmed by the ritual enacted during the Akitu festival. By contrast, the law of the king and the other anti-monarchial biblical texts do not seek to humiliate the king, on the one hand, nor do they ascribe any importance to his position, on the other. He is not the intermediary between the people and God, a role which is reserved for prophets and, in a different way, for priests. The emphasis in the law of the king on who the king may not be (a foreigner) and what he may not do (build an empire) reveal the true colours of the law’s formulations. The law is not reflecting the destructive actions of a ruler, whether outsider or insider, but is a much more nuanced and subtle criticism of the foundations of empire.

5. The Law of the King and Babylonian Rule The Neo-Babylonian king, too, derived his power from his role as the gods’ vicar on earth.100 Yet his image, as reflected in the extant corpus of NeoBabylonian royal inscriptions, is substantially different from that of the Assyrian royal king. It emphasizes the legitimacy of rulers, by repeatedly emphasizing their divine election, by focusing “on the principal religious duty of the NeoBabylonian kings, viz., their obligation to act as guarantors of the cult of the main deities of Mesopotamia. For this reason temple building, temple restoration work and to a lesser extent city reconstruction loom large among the subjects of the inscriptions.”101 This is in stark contrast to the military conquests highlighted in the Neo-Assyrian royal inscriptions. In the words of Beaulieu, the Babylonian king was not portrayed “as conqueror, administrator, or provider of social justice, but as religious leader and teacher of wisdom”.102 The traditions of antediluvian sages paralleled those of antediluvian kings,103 leading to the supremacy of scribal elites after the disappearance of Babylonian monarchy.104 The NeoBabylonian Empire and its aftermath mark, therefore, the rise of wisdom and teaching, represented by the roles of the king and sages. As noted before, vv. 18–19 are a later addition to the law of the king. They deal with the only demand that the law makes of the king: he is to make or to have 99

FRANKFORT, Kingship, 320. JURSA, “Neo-Babylonian Empire”, 122. 101 JURSA, “Neo-Babylonian Empire”, 122. 102 BEAULIEU, “Nabonidus”, 142. 103 BEAULIEU, “Nabonidus”, 160–161. 104 BEAULIEU, “Nabonidus”, 163. 100

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made for him a copy of the Torah, to read and to observe its laws all his life.105 The reviser put this reference to the Torah between the prohibition against amassing riches and its rationale: When he is seated on his royal throne, he shall have a copy of this Teaching (Torah) written for him on a scroll by the levitical priests. Let it remain with him and let him read it all his life, so that he may learn to revere YHWH his God to observe faithfully every word of this Torah (teaching) as well as these laws. (17:18–19)

Joshua 1:7–8 reflects a similar world-view. There, too, the key to success for Joshua, the military leader of the conquest, is to follow the teaching, Torah – as Moses instructed (Josh 1:7; again in 23:6; cf. 8:34) – moreover, constantly to recite the Torah (v. 8). As in the law of the king, these verses are a later addition, reinterpreting the earlier divine encouragement (Josh 1:6), marked by a Wiederaufnahme, “be strong and resolute” (vv. 6, 9).

6. Conclusion The destruction of Jerusalem in 586 BCE was indeed a major factor instigating the formation of the Bible, but it was preceded by the reactions of Israelite and later Judahite scribes to the ideological pressures of Assyrian vassalage (late eighth and seventh centuries BCE). The law of the king (Deut 17:14–20) is the best example of the effects that these two pivotal periods had on the ideologies of the circles producing the Bible and their literary consequences. The law circumscribes the most powerful role in human society, which was otherwise considered the ultimate form of governance. Prohibiting the amassing of horses, wives and riches – symbols of imperial power – this law expresses an anti-imperial polemic. The two preconditions stated in the law – the king must be chosen by God, and must be a brother Israelite and not a foreigner – correspond to two prerequisites of Assyrian kingship. The law agrees with the notion of divine approval, while rejecting the idea that the king must belong to a specific family created separately by the goddess Belet-ili. The stress on the Israelite origin of the king stemmed from the rejection of the possibility that Judah would become an Assyrian province like its northern sister Israel, ruled by an Assyrian appointee, a foreigner. Assyrian rule was deemed ideologically opposed to divine rule. After the destruction of Jerusalem and the cessation of kingship, the law was adapted to the new scholarly ideal of a religious leader, relying on the Book of Torah (Deut 17:18–19). This new concept conformed to current Babylonian concepts of kingship which highlighted the religious roles of the king, and offered a new scholarly ideal. 105 The NJPSV translation quoted here is contested by Sonnet, who stresses that writing is often associated with royal figures in the ancient Near East, suggesting that the only act demanded from the king is that he himself write a copy of the entire Torah under the supervision of the Levitical priests (SONNET, Book, 72–78).

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Literature ALT, A., “Die Heimat des Deuteronomiums”, in: idem, Kleine Schriften zur Geschichte des Volkes Israel, vol. 2, Munich 1953, 250–275. ANNUS, A., The Standard Babylonian Epic of Anzu (SAACT 3), Helsinki 2001. BEAULIEU, P.-A., “Nabonidus the Mad King: A Reconsideration of His Steles from Harran and Babylon”, in M. Heinz / M. H. Feldman (eds.), Representations of Political Power: Case Histories from Times of Change and Dissolving Order in the Ancient Near East, Winona Lake, IN 2007, 137–166. BECKER, U., Jesaja – von der Botschaft zum Buch (FRLANT 178), Göttingen 1997. BRETTLER, M. Z., “The Structure of 1 Kings 1–11”, JSOT 49 (1991) 87–97. CANCIK-KIRSCHBAUM, E., “Konzeption und Legitimation von Herrschaft in neuassyrischer Zeit: Mythos und Ritual in VS 24, 92”, WO 26 (1995) 5–20. CARMICHAEL, C. M., The Laws of Deuteronomy, Ithaca 1974. CARR, D. M., Holy Resilience: The Bible’s Traumatic Origins, New Haven 2014. COGAN, M., I Kings: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AncB 10), New York 2000. COHEN, M. E., The Cultic Calendars of the Ancient Near East, Bethesda, MD 1993. COLLINS, J. J., “King and Messiah as Son of God”, in: B. Pongratz-Leisten (ed.), Reconsidering the Concept of Revolutionary Monotheism, Winona Lake, IN 2011, 291–315. CROSS, F. M., Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic, Cambridge, MA 1973. CROUCH, C. L., The Making of Israel: Cultural Diversity in the Southern Levant and the Formation of Ethnic Identity in Deuteronomy (VT.S 162), Leiden 2014. CRÜSEMANN, F., Der Widerstand gegen das Königtum: Die antiköniglichen Texte des Alten Testamentes und der Kampf um den frühen israelitischen Staat (WMANT 49), Neukirchen-Vluyn 1978. DAUBE, D., “ ‘One From Among Your Brethren Shall You Set King Over You’”, JBL 90 (1971) 480–481. DAVIES, G. H., “Judges viii 22–23”, VT 13 (1963) 151–157. DOLGOPOLSKY-GEVA, Y., “ ‘You Shall Hamstring Their Horses and Burn Their Chariots’ (Joshua 11:6): The Identification of Horses and Chariots as the Weapons of Israel’s Enemies in Biblical Literature”, Shnaton – An Annual for Biblical and Ancient Near Eastern Studies 23 (2014) 55–90 (Hebrew). DRIVER, S. R., Deuteronomy (ICC), 3rd edn, Edinburgh 1902. DUTCHER-WALLS, P., “The Circumscription of the King: Deuteronomy 17:16–17 in Its Ancient Social Context”, JBL 121 (2002) 601–616. EMERTON, J. A., “Gideon and Jerubbaal”, JTS N.S. 27 (1976) 289–312. FALES, F. M., “The Enemy in Assyrian Royal Inscriptions: The Moral Judgment”, in: H.-J. Nissen / J. Renger (eds.), Mesopotamien und seine Nachbarn (XXV Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale), Berlin 1982, 425–435. FLYNN, S. W., YHWH is King: The Development of Divine Kingship in Ancient Israel (VT.S 159), Leiden 2014. FOSTER, B. R., Before the Muses: An Anthology of Akkadian Literature, 3rd edn, Bethesda, MD 2005. —, Akkadian Literature of the Late Period (Guides to the Mesopotamian Textual Record 2), Münster 2007. FRAME, G., Rulers of Babylonia: From the Second Dynasty of Isin to the End of Assyrian Domination (1157–612 B.C.) (The Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia: Babylonian Periods 2), Toronto 1995.

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FRANKENA, R., “The Vassal-Treaties of Esarhaddon and the Dating of Deuteronomy”, OtSt 14 (1965) 122–154. FRANKFORT, H., Kingship and the Gods, Chicago 1948. GALLING, K., “Das Königsgesetz im Deuteronomium”, ThLZ 76 (1951) 133–138. GERBRANDT, G. E., Kingship According to the Deuteronomistic History (SBLDS 87), Atlanta, Ga 1986. GRAYSON, A. K., “The Early Development of Assyrian Monarchy”, UF 3 (1971) 311–319. GREEN, D. J., I Undertook Great Works (FAT II 41), Tübingen 2010. HAGEDORN, A. C., Between Moses and Plato: Individual and Society in Deuteronomy and Ancient Greek Law (FRLANT 204), Göttingen 2004. HALLO, W. W. / YOUNGER, K. L. (eds.), The Context of Scripture: Archival Documents from the Biblical World, 3 vols., Leiden 1997–2002. HALPERN, B., “The Uneasy Compromise: Israel between League and Monarchy”, in: B. Halpern / J. D. Levenson (eds.), Traditions in Transformation: Turning Points in Biblical Faith, Winona Lake, IN 1981, 59–96. HAMILTON, M. W., “The Past as Destiny: Historical Visions in Samʾal and Judah under Assyrian Hegemony”, HTR 91 (1998) 215–250. —, The Body Royal: The Social Poetics of Kingship in Ancient Israel (BiInS 78), Leiden / Boston 2005. HEATON, E. W., The Hebrew Kingdoms (NCB 3), Oxford 1968. HENDEL, R. S., “Aniconism and Anthropomorphism in Ancient Israel”, in: K. van der Toorn (ed.), The Image and the Book: Iconic Cults, Aniconism, and the Rise of Book Religion in Israel and the Ancient Near East (CBET 21), Leuven 1997, 205–228. HERRING, S. L., Divine Substitution: Humanity as the Manifestation of Deity in the Hebrew Bible and the Ancient Near East (FRLANT 247), Göttingen 2013. HOFFMANN, H.-D., Reform und Reformen (AThANT 66), Zürich 1980. HOLLADAY, W. L., Jeremiah 2 (Hermeneia), Minneapolis 1989. ISHIDA, T., The Royal Dynasties in Ancient Israel: A Study of the Formation and Development of Royal-Dynastic Ideology (BZAW 142), Berlin 1977. JOBLING, D., The Sense of Biblical Narrative: Structural Analyses in the Hebrew Bible, vol. 2 (JSOT.S 39), Sheffield 1986. JURSA, M., “The Neo-Babylonian Empire”, in: M. Gehler / R. Rollinger (eds.), Imperien und Reiche in der Weltgeschichte: Epochenübergreifende und globalhistorische Vergleiche, Wiesbaden 2014, vol. 1, 121–148. KAUFMANN, Y., Judges, Jerusalem 1962 (Hebrew). KLEIN, J., “Sumerian Kingship and the Gods”, in: G. Beckman / T. J. Lewis (eds.), Text, Artefact, and Image: Revealing Ancient Israelite Religion (BJSt 346), Providence, RI 2006, 115–131. KNOPPERS, G., “The Deuteronomist and the Deuteronomic Law of the King: A Reexamination of the Relationship”, ZAW 108 (1996) 329–346. LAMBERT, W. G., “The Seed of Kingship”, in: P. Garelli (ed.), Le Palais et la royauté (archéologie et civilisation); XIXe Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale (Paris 29 Juin – 2 Juillet 1971), Paris 1974, 427–440. —, “Kingship in Ancient Mesopotamia”, in: J. Day (ed.), King and Messiah in Israel and the Ancient Near East (JSOT.S 270), Sheffield 1998, 54–70. LEVINSON, B. M., “The Reconceptualization of Kingship in Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic History’s Transformation of Torah”, VT 51 (2001) 511–534. —, “Textual Criticism, Assyriology, and the History of Interpretation: Deuteronomy 13:7a as a Test Case in Method”, JBL 120 (2001) 211–243. —, “Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty as the Source for the Canon Formula in Deuteronomy 13:1”, JAOS 130 (2010) 337–347.

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LIVERANI, M., “The Ideology of the Assyrian Empire”, in: M. T. Larsen (ed.), Power and Propaganda (Mesopotamia 7), Copenhagen 1979, 297–317. LIVINGSTONE, A., Court Poetry and Literary Miscellanea (SAA 3), Helsinki 1989. LOHFINK, N., “Hos. xi 5 als Bezugstext von Dtn. xvii 16”, VT 31 (1981) 226–228. — “Distribution of the Functions of Power: The Laws Concerning Public Offices in Deuteronomy 16:18–18:22”, in: D. L. Christensen (ed.), A Song of Power and the Power of Song: Essays on the Book of Deuteronomy, Winona Lake, IN 1993, 336–352. MACHINIST, P., “Kingship and Divinity in Imperial Assyria”, in: J. Renger (ed.), Assur – Gott, Stadt und Land (CDOG 5), Wiesbaden 2011, 405–428. MAGEN, U., Assyrische Königsdarstellungen – Aspekte der Herrschaft: eine Typologie (BaF 9), Mainz am Rhein 1986. MANN, T. W., Divine Presence and Guidance in Israelite Traditions: The Typology of Exaltation, Baltimore 1977. MAUL, S. M., “Der assyrische König – Hüter der Weltordnung”, in: K. Watanabe (ed.), Priests and Officials in the Ancient Near East. Papers of the Second Colloquium on the Ancient Near East – The City and Its Life, Held at the Middle Eastern Culture Centre in Japan (Mitaka, Tokyo), March 22–24, 1996, Heidelberg 1999, 201–214. MAYER, W. R., “Ein Mythos von der Erschaffung des Menschen und des Königs”, Or. 56 (1987) 55–68. MAYES, A. D. H., Deuteronomy (NCBC 5), Grand Rapids, MI 1979. MCCARTER, P. K. Jr., I Samuel (AncB 8), Garden City, NY 1980. MCCONVILLE, J. G., “King and Messiah in Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic History”, in: J. Day (ed.), King and Messiah in Israel and the Ancient Near East (JSOT.S 270), Sheffield 1998, 271–295. MCKANE, W., A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Jeremiah II (ICC), Edinburgh 1996. MERENDINO, R. P., Das deuteronomische Gesetz, Bonn 1969. METTINGER, T. N. D., King and Messiah: The Civil and Sacral Legitimation of the Israelite Kings (CB.OT 8), Lund 1976. MILLER, R. D. II., “Israel’s Covenant in Ancient Near Eastern Context”, BN 139 (2008) 5–18. MORROW, W. S., “The Paradox of Deuteronomy 13: A Post-Colonial Reading”, in: R. Achenbach / M. Arneth (eds.), “Gerechtigkeit und Recht zu üben” (Gen 18,19) (BZAR 13), Wiesbaden 2009, 227–239. NICHOLSON, E. W., Deuteronomy and Tradition, Philadelphia 1967. —, “ ‘Do Not Dare to Set a Foreigner Over You’: The King in Deuteronomy and ‘The Great King’ ”, ZAW 118 (2006) 46–61. NISSINEN, M., “Fear Not: A Study on a Near Eastern Phrase”, in: M. A. Sweeney / E. Ben Zvi (eds.), The Changing Face of Form Criticism for the Twenty First Century, Grand Rapids, MI 2003, 122–161. NORTH, C. R., “The Old Testament Estimate of the Monarchy”, AJSL 48 (1931) 1–19. OPPENHEIM, A. L., “Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian Empires”, in: H. D. Lasswell et al. (eds.), Propaganda and Communication in World History, vol. 1, The Symbolic Instrument in Early Times, Honolulu 1979, 111–144. OTTO, E., Das Deuteronomium: Politische Theologie und Rechtsreform in Juda und Assyrien (BZAW 284), Berlin 1999. —, Gottes Recht als Menschenrecht: Rechts- und literaturhistorische Studien zum Deuteronomium (BZAR 2), Wiesbaden 2002. —, “The Judaean Legitimation of Royal Rulers in Its Ancient Near Eastern Context”, in: D. J. Human / C. J. A. Vos (eds.), Psalms and Liturgy (JSOT.S 410), London 2004, 131–139. RAD, G. VON , Studies in Deuteronomy (trans. D. Stalker; SBT 9), London 1953.

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RADNER, K., “Assyrian and Non-Assyrian Kingship in the First Millennium BC”, in: G. B. Lanfranchi / R. Rollinger (eds.), Concepts of Kingship in Antiquity (History of the Ancient Near East. Monographs 11), Padova 2010, 15–24. READE, J., “Ideology and Propaganda in Assyrian Art”, in: M. T. Larsen (ed.), Power and Propaganda: A Symposium on Ancient Empires (Mesopotamia 7), Copenhagen 1979, 329–343. REIMER, D. J., “Concerning Return to Egypt: Deuteronomy xvii 16 and xxviii 68 Reconsidered”, in: J. A. Emerton (ed.), Studies in the Pentateuch (VT.S 41), Leiden 1990, 217–229. RÖMER, T. C., The So-Called Deuteronomistic History: A Sociological, Historical and Literary Introduction, London 2005. RUSSEL, J. M., Sennacherib’s Palace without Rival at Nineveh, Chicago 1991. RÜTERSWÖRDEN, U., “Dtn 13 in der neueren Deuteronomiumforschung”, in: A. Lemaire (ed.), Congress Volume Basel 2001 (VT.S 92), Leiden 2002, 185–203. SCHÄFER -LICHTENBERGER, C., Josua und Salomo (VT.S 58), Leiden 1995. SCHLEY, D. G., “ ‘Yahweh Will Cause You to Return to Egypt in Ships’ (Deuteronomy xxviii 68)”, VT 35 (1985) 369–371. SIMON, U., “The Parable of Jotham (Judges IX 8–15): The Parable, Its Application and their Narrative Framework”, Tarbiẓ 34 (1964) 1–34 (Hebrew). SMITH, G. A., The Book of Deuteronomy (CBSC), Cambridge 1918. SMITH, J. Z., “A Pearl of Great Price and a Cargo of Yams: A Study in Situational Incongruity”, HR 16 (1976) 1–19. —, Map is Not Territory (SJLA23), Leiden 1978. SOGGIN, J. A., “‫ מלך‬melek king”, TLOT 2 (1997) 672–680. SOMMER, B., “The Babylonian Akitu Festival: Rectifying the King or Renewing the Cosmos?”, JANES 27 (2000) 81–95. SONNET, J.-P., The Book Within the Book: Writing in Deuteronomy (BiInS 14), Leiden 1997. STEYMANS, H.-U., “Die neuassyrische Vertragsrhetorik der ‘Vassal Treaties of Esarhaddon’ und das Deuteronomium”, in: G. Braulik (ed.), Das Deuteronomium (ÖBS 23), Frankfurt 2003, 89–152. STOEBE, H. J., Das erste Buch Samuelis (KAT 8), Gütersloh 1973. STULMAN, L., “Encroachment in Deuteronomy: An Analysis of the Social World of the D Code”, JBL 109 (1990) 613–632. TADMOR, “Propaganda, Literature, Historiography: Cracking the Code of the Assyrian Royal Inscriptions”, in: S. Parpola / R. M. Whiting (eds.), Assyria 1995, Helsinki 1997, 325–338. TADMOR, H. / YAMADA, S. (eds.), The Royal Inscriptions of Tiglath-pileser III (744–727 BC) and Shalmaneser V (726–722 BC), Kings of Assyria (RINAP 1), Winona Lake 2011. THUREAU-D ANGIN, F., Rituels accadiens, Paris 1921. WEEKS, N., Admonition and Curse: The Ancient Near Eastern Treaty / Covenant Form as a Problem in Inter-Cultural Relationships (JSOT.S 407), London 2004. WEINFELD, M., Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, Oxford 1972. —, Deuteronomy 1–11 (AncB 5), New York 1991. WEISER, A., Das Buch Jeremia (ATD 20/21), Göttingen 1969. WELLHAUSEN, J., Die Composition des Hexateuch und der historischen Bücher des Alten Testaments, 3rd edn, Berlin 1899. WENHAM, G. J., Genesis 1–15 (WBC 1), Nashville 1987. ZACCAGNINI, C., “An Urartean Royal Inscription in the Report of Sargon’s Eighth Campaign”, in: F. M. Fales (ed.), Assyrian Royal Inscriptions: New Horizons (OAC 17), Rome 1981, 259–295.

III. Priestly and Cultic (Dis-)continuities

Aaron’s Failure and the Fall of the Hebrew Kingdoms Nathan MacDonald 1. The Fortunes of Priestly Families after the Fall of Jerusalem In the account of the Babylonian destruction of Jerusalem in 2 Kings, the writer lingers over the devastation of the temple.1 The items involved in cultic worship are described in some detail, an indication of concern that contrasts with the conquerors’ attitude to their plunder (25:8–17). Besides dismantling Solomon’s edifice and transporting anything of value to Babylon, Nebuzaradan apprehended the officiating priests: “Seraiah the chief priest, Zephaniah the priest next in rank, and the three doorkeepers” (v. 18). The priests were executed, together with other leading officials, at Nebuchadnezzar’s headquarters in Riblah. Despite the ruination of the sanctuary and the loss of cultic personnel, some form of cultic worship appears to have continued at the site. According to Jer 41, eighty mourners arrived from the Samarian hill country to present cereal offerings and incense.2 Presumably substitute priests acted at the ruined temple in addition to any priests serving at sanctuaries elsewhere.3 It has long been assumed that the execution of the temple’s leading priests and the exile of others produced a vacuum that was soon filled by other aspiring cultic functionaries.4 Priestly families that had previously been on the margins took over prominent sanctuaries, especially the temple site at Jerusalem. It can be debated whether a policy of cult centralization under Josiah had already created the conditions under which marginalization of some families had occurred,5 and whether family rivalries can be traced back to 1 In contrast 2 Chr 36 passes over the destruction of the temple rather quickly. The temple vessels were seized and sent to Babylon (v. 18), and the temple burnt (v. 19). 2 The pilgrims anticipated the destruction of the temple and came with their beards shaved, their clothes rent and the bodies gashed. It is possible that their journey was in response to the fall of the city, though Rashi held that they only found out about the destruction en route. Alternatively, the dating of Gedaliah’s murder to the seventh month of the year might suggest that they were coming up to celebrate the Feast of Tabernacles. 3 Blenkinsopp questions the assumption that the pilgrims’ destination was the temple in Jerusalem (BLENKINSOPP, “Judaean Priesthood”). 4 According to 1 Chr 5:41 Seraiah’s son, Jehozadaq, was exiled to Babylon. According to Ezra 2:36–39 || Neh 7:39–42 just over four thousand priests returned from exile. Very few Levites are numbered amongst the returnees (Ezra 2:41 || Neh 7:43; cf. Ezra 8.15). 5 In Josiah’s reform the priests of the high places did not go up to the altar in Jerusalem, but ate unleavened bread with their brethren (2 Kgs 23:9). This has usually been understood to

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an earlier period.6 Either way, the destruction of Jerusalem has certainly been viewed as an important factor in fuelling the internecine strife within the priesthood that is widely thought to have dominated subsequent decades, perhaps even subsequent centuries.7 The insistence by the exiled Zadokite priest Ezekiel that the Levites shoulder the blame for the polluted temple in Ezek 44 has often been taken as evidence that lines between Zadokites and Levites were increasingly sharply drawn.8 One family of priests that is widely thought to have reached particular prominence in the postexilic period is the Aaronide clan. The Pentateuch, which was edited and stabilized during the Second Temple period, bears the imprint of the family of Aaron. The main narrative line of the Pentateuch elevates Aaron and his descendants to priestly dignity. Aaron and his sons are commissioned by Moses and serve in the Tabernacle. A number of narratives establish the pre-eminence of Aaron’s family over others. The story of Korah’s rebellion threatens fearful consequences on those who seek to usurp Aaron’s role and insists that only he can effect atonement (Num 16–17). When the Israelites commit idolatry and sexual immorality at Shittim, Phinehas, Aaron’s grandson, demonstrates zeal for YHWH’s honour. His family receives the priesthood in perpetuity as a reward (Num 25). mean that the priests were not able to officiate in Jerusalem, but did enjoy the priestly perquisites. In other words, they were treated in the same manner as the Holiness Code treats priests with a physical blemish (cf. Lev 21:16–24). Such actions have been taken as an abrogation of the ruling in Deut 18:6–8 that permitted Levites from “any of your towns” to minister at the central sanctuary. In this interpretation the Levites are the priests of the high places who were made redundant by Deuteronomy’s policy of centralization. The old critical consensus has been subjected to critique along two lines. First, the identification of the groups and situations in Deut 18:6–8 and 2 Kgs 23:9 can be questioned. Are Deuteronomy’s “Levites in your gates” really the “priests of the high places” (GUNNEWEG, Leviten)? Secondly, did a reform take place under Josiah and did it have centralization as a key aim? (See, e.g., KRATZ, Composition, 132, 169). 6 Cross, followed by a number of his students, argued that the rivalries between the Zadokite incumbents of Jerusalem and the levitical family of Eli can be traced back to the time of the United Monarchy (CROSS, “Priestly Houses”; OLYAN, “Zadok’s Origins”). 7 For discussion of conflict in the Judahite priesthood during the neo-Babylonian and Persian periods, see esp. BLENKINSOPP, “Judaean Priesthood”; HANSON, Dawn; SCHAPER, Priester. 8 The seminal exposition is to be found in the fourth chapter of Wellhausen’s Prolegomena. The marginalization of the Levites that had occurred owing to centralization receives divine authorization. The Levites are subordinated to the sons of Zadok because of their role in Israel’s idolatry. Ezekiel’s novel perspective on the priesthood was projected back into the distant past by the composers of the priestly writings (WELLHAUSEN, Prolegomena). In Hanson’s view we find levitical responses to this Zadokite coup in Trito-Isaiah and Deutero-Zechariah (HANSON, Dawn). For a reassessment of the date of Ezek 44 and its use in reconstructing the history of the priesthood in the Persian period see MACDONALD, Priestly Rule.

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In the context of the Pentateuch’s positive portrayal of Aaron it is somewhat surprising that two narratives portray Aaron and his family embroiled in idolatry and ritual malpractice: the story of the Golden Calf (Exod 32) and the sin of Nadab and Abihu (Lev 10). In the story of the Golden Calf, Aaron is implicated in the fabrication and worship of another god, directly transgressing the Ten Commandments, which had been delivered a short time before. In the story of Nadab and Abihu, Aaron’s two sons offer “strange fire”, which had not been authorized, on the altar. They were annihilated instantly. Unsurprisingly, these stories have been aligned with the theories that rival priestly groups were vying for supremacy in the Second Temple period, and attributed to anti-Aaronide partisans. Even though this proposal has been embraced by a number of scholars, it still fails to address the critical question that James Watts raises about the story of the Golden Calf: “Why did the Aaronide dynasties who controlled both the Second Temple and its Torah allow this negative depiction of Aaron to stand?”9 In the rest of this essay I will examine the story of the Golden Calf in order to examine the question Watts raises.10

2. The Story of the Golden Calf and the Theory of Priestly Rivalries In his influential essay “The Priestly Houses of Early Israel”, Frank Cross argued that different priestly groups – Levites, Aaronides and Zadokites – had left their marks on the pages of Torah by elevating their ancestors and denigrating their opponents. Cross wrote at a time when the documentary hypothesis was still regnant, and in his view the Golden Calf story belonged primarily to E. Cross argued that the story in Exod 32 probably originated from the Mushite sanctuary at Shiloh during the time of Jeroboam I.11 The story was concocted as a polemic against the Aaronide priests in Bethel, perhaps a deliberate perversion of the Bethel cult’s aetiology. At a later stage a Levitical editor had inserted his own tribe into the story in Exod 32:26–29. The Levites appeared alongside Moses as faithful and zealous supporters of the worship of YHWH. Both the 9

WATTS, “Aaron”, 417. For an incisive analysis of the Nadab and Abihu story in Lev 10 in relation to theories of rival priestly families, see WATTS, Leviticus 1–10, 503–552. Watts rightly shows how Lev 10 establishes the authority of Aaron in cultic matters. See also NIHAN, Priestly Torah, 576–607. 11 An important element of Cross’s theory was postulating the existence of a Mushite priestly family that celebrated Moses as its forebear. The Mushite clan was important in Israel’s early history, but lost ground to the Aaronides and Zadokites. In the canonical genealogy of Levi its diminished role can be seen. Mushi is the youngest son of Merari, Levi’s youngest son, and any association with Moses has been lost. Cross believed that Num 26:58 preserved an older tradition with the Mushites, one of four Levitical tribes (CROSS, “Priestly Houses”, 206). 10

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original story and its redaction were evidence of “an ancient and prolonged strife between priestly houses: the Mushite priesthood which flourished at the sanctuaries of Shiloh and Dan and an allied Mushite-Kenite priesthood of the local shrines at Arad and Kadesh opposed to the Aaronite priesthood of Bethel and Jerusalem”.12 There are a number of points where Cross’s interpretation of Exod 32 would need to be revised in light of contemporary scholarship, but perhaps the most significant is the dating of the story. The difficulties that the story of Aaron and the Golden Calf poses for the classic documentary hypothesis have been well rehearsed. Since Exod 32 is clearly not a priestly text nor of one piece, scholars attributed different parts of the story to J and E. There are, however, difficulties in successfully isolating separate J and E strands, and these are further compounded by the recognition that the plural phrasing in Exod 32, “these are you gods, O Israel”, already presupposed the actions of Jeroboam I and problematized dating J to the time of the United Monarchy.13 The verbal similarities between Exod 32 and 1 Kgs 12 pose further problems for dating Exod 32 before 1 Kgs 12. They require that the story of Jeroboam was circulating either in “an already stereotyped oral form” or in a pre-Deuteronomistic written form.14 All of these problems stem from an unwarranted assumption that Exod 32 must have been written before 1 Kgs 12. When this assumption is abandoned, it is possible to entertain the alternative hypothesis that a Deuteronomistic account of Jeroboam I’s sin was retrojected on to the Mosaic period by a later scribe.15 As a result many continental scholars have identified these chapters as late Deuteronomistic, redactional or even post-Priestly.16 A late dating of the story gives Watts’s question additional potency. For Cross the juxtaposition of the Golden Calf with its critical portrayal of Aaron and the priestly account of the institution of the Tabernacle and its priesthood were a consequence of the documentary hypothesis. The Elohist document preserved evidence of lively controversies from the early years of the Divided Monarchy. These had been edited with later priestly material by a redactor who was concerned to preserve both texts as far as possible. If, however, Exod 32 is composed much later in Israelite history, perhaps even in light of the priestly Tabernacle account, the critical portrait of Aaron becomes much harder to explain. In this later period the Aaronide ascendancy is assured. The late dating also poses difficulties for Cross’s interpretation of the Levites. Cross seeks to distinguish the Levites from the Aaronides. Yet, as recent 12

CROSS, “Priestly Houses”, 206. NOTH, Exodus, 246. 14 NOTH, Exodus, 246. 15 As Greenstein observes this is not the only instance of a story in the later history of Israel being projected back into Israel’s early history (GREENSTEIN, “Formation”). 16 For a recent summary of German analyses of Exodus 32–34, see SCHMID, “Israel”; KONKEL, Sünde, 13–30. 13

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scholarship has emphasized, Exod 32:26–29 has “all the Levites” (‫)כל־בני לוי‬ gathering around Moses for the task of judicial slaughter, and this would have included Aaron and his family.17 It is only in some very late texts that we find a restrictive use of ‫בני לוי‬: Num 16–18; Ezra 8, Neh 12; 1 Chr 9, 24. These sit alongside other texts, such as Num 1–4, where the ‫ בני לוי‬encompasses all the descendants of Levi. The precise nuances of ‫ בני לוי‬have to be determined from the context. In Exod 32:26–29 this ambiguity has been removed by speaking of all the Levites. As Ulrich Dahmen writes, “In den vv. 26. 28 treten also alle Nachkommen Levis handelnd in Erscheinung, Aaroniden / Priester und Leviten”.18

3. Attempts to Exonerate Aaron As we have seen, a late dating of the Golden Calf story problematizes interpreting that story as evidence for priestly rivalries. The issue is appreciated by James Watts, who has looked for an alternative way of understanding the negative portrayal of Aaron. He seeks to resolve the tension between the calf story and the surrounding Tabernacle material by observing that Exod 32 distances Aaron from the fabrication of the calf. In the opening verses it is the people, not Aaron, who wish for the calf. Consequently, they are the equivalent of Jeroboam in 1 Kgs 12. “The protagonist in Exodus 32, who matches Jeroboam by initiating the calf cult, is not after all Aaron but the people as a whole: they ask Aaron to make gods for them.”19 In the later exchange between Aaron and Moses, Moses assumes that Aaron was coerced: “What did this people do to you?” (v. 21). Aaron does not contest this view, but accuses the people of evil (v. 22). In Watts’s 17 For the most recent discussion of the Levites in Exod 32:26–29 see SAMUEL, Von Priestern, 270–294. Samuel reopens the question of the secondary status of Exod 32:26–29. “Man muß … fragen, ob die Erzählung ohne den Abschnitt vollständig ist. Zu allererst fehlte eine Reaktion Moses, der sich mit der Zerstörung des Gußbildes begnügen würde, gegenüber dem Volk. Erst am nächsten Morgen würde er sich diesem in einer Rede zuwenden” (SAMUEL, Von Priestern, 278–279). Since the immediate actions of the Levites stand in tension with a future punishment, Samuel excludes vv. 30–34 instead. Despite Samuel’s concern about the delay in Moses’ reaction, the spreading of the judgment over two days appears to correspond to the account of the people’s sin and brings the narrative to an appropriate conclusion. At the beginning of the narrative the calf is created and, the following day (‫)ממחרת‬, the people offer it cultic worship (vv. 1–6). At the end, the calf is destroyed, and the following day (‫ )ממחרת‬the judgment on the people is announced (vv. 30–34). By contrast, the episode with the Levites introduces perplexing elements for a reader. The appearance of the Levites in v. 26 is unanticipated, and the slaughter of only 3,000 when the entire people were culpable is unexplained. 18 DAHMEN, Leviten, 79. 19 WATTS, “Aaron”, 427.

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view, Aaron fulfils his priestly duty by being a representative of the people, even in their sin. But even this collusion in sin should not be seen as problematic, because, as Watts argues, “the faults of venerated cultural heroes do not detract from their standing”.20 Dany Nocquet is even more ambitious in absolving Aaron of wrongdoing. With many others, he understands ‫ויקהל העם על־אהרן‬ as a hostile confrontation: “the people assembled against Aaron” (Exod 32:1).21 Aaron merely acquiesces in their wishes and is not involved in worshipping the calf himself.22 I am not convinced that the arguments of Watts or Nocquet are entirely successful. First, the attempt to distance Aaron from Jeroboam I makes a broad comparison on the basis of who initiates the cult, and ignores other verbal similarities between the two figures. Both Aaron and Jeroboam are said to have “made” (‫ )עשה‬the calf (Exod 32:1, 4, 23, 35; 1 Kgs 12:28, 32), they utter almost identical proclamations (Exod 32:4; 1 Kgs 12:28) and proclaim a festival (‫ ;חג‬Exod 32:5; 1 Kgs 12:33). Second, affirming the high priest’s representative role only ameliorates the difficulty, rather than resolving it. Aaron is still guilty of fabricating the calf and leading in its worship. Third, Watts’s case appears to rely on two contradictory arguments. He claims that Exod 32 seeks to distinguish Aaron from the people, whilst also insisting that Aaron is portrayed fulfilling a priestly duty to represent the people. Fourth, Moses’ encounter with Aaron in vv. 21–25 may stem from a later scribal editor, and represent a later attempt to exonerate Aaron.23 If the original narrative lacked this exchange between Moses and Aaron, the mitigation of Aaron is even more diminished. Aaron is not addressed separately; with the rest of the people he is accused of committing a “great sin”. Even if these verses belong to the original story, Aaron has failed to control the people (32:25; cf. 24:13–14), and his response to Moses’ question is evasive, even absurd. Certainly his attempt to distance himself from the making of the calf does not sit easily with vv. 1–6 and could be regarded as an unconvincing attempt to pass the buck.

4. Aaron and Jeroboam Despite their considerable differences, the interpretations of Cross and Watts both highlight the importance of the parallel between Aaron and Jeroboam. As Erik Aurelius rightly recognized, understanding the relationship between Exod 32 20

WATTS, “Aaron”. Cf. Num 16:3; 17:7; 20:2 (e.g. CHILDS, Exodus, 564). 22 NOCQUET, “Pourquoi Aaron”. 23 Aurelius notes that the exchange is not essential to the story (AURELIUS, Fürbitter, 65), but there are no firm indicators that the passage is secondary. For further discussion, see also KONKEL, Sünde, 113–114. 21

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and 1 Kgs 12 is crucial to our sense of the “intention” of Exod 32.24 According to Cross, the Mushite tradition of the Golden Calf attributed the cultic aberration at Bethel to the Aaronide forefather. Jeroboam is Aaron redivivus. For his part, Watts distances Aaron from the comparison with Jeroboam and associates the people with Jeroboam instead. Clearly, it is necessary to re-examine the comparison between Aaron and Jeroboam. As is well known, the story of the Golden Calf has its parallel in the story of Jeroboam I’s establishment of a cult at Bethel and Dan. The similarities are especially to be found in Exod 32:1–6 and 1 Kgs 12:26–32.25 First, Aaron and Jeroboam both make an image of a calf out of gold. Second, the proclamation about the calves is almost identical: “These are / Behold your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt” (‫ הנה אלהיך ישׂראל אשר‬/ ‫אלה‬ ‫)העלוך מארץ מצרים‬. Third, both Aaron and Jeroboam build an altar, make sacrifices and establish a festival. Finally, elsewhere in both stories, the worship of the calves is described as a ‘great sin’ (‫ ;חטאה גדלה‬Exod 32:21, 30–31; 2 Kgs 17:21).26 The numerous connections suggest a close relationship between the two stories27 and, as we have already seen, there are good grounds for believing that Exod 32 was composed in light of 1 Kgs 12. If we are to understand Exod 32 well we need to do more than establish the existence of a relationship between the two passages and their relative date. First, we need to attend to any differences between the two passages. Second, we need to consider how 1 Kgs 12 will be read if the story of Aaron and the Golden Calf has been inserted into Israel’s earliest history. I have already shown that there are a number of important similarities between Exod 32 and 1 Kgs 12, but the differences are no less significant. First, Watts has rightly drawn attention to the condemnation of Jeroboam in 1 Kgs 12, but of the entire people in Exod 32. The story of Jeroboam attributes the initiative to establish novel cults at Bethel and Dan to the king and he alone. His interest is self-preservation: the continued draw of Jerusalem as a cult centre will mean that the ten tribes will always have a significant basis for loyalty to 24

AURELIUS, Fürbitter, 75–77. For a similar instinct, albeit with a quite different understanding of the relationship between Exod 32 and 1 Kgs 12, see KNOPPERS, “Aaron’s Calf”. 25 Vermeylen removes 32:1–6 because they lack parallels in Deut 9–10 and attribute the fabrication of the calf to Aaron, rather than the people. The earliest version of the calf story consisted of Exod 32:7–10, 15–16*, 19, 20*, 30–32a, 33a, 34* (VERMEYLEN, “L’affaire”). It is questionable whether the attribution of the calf to the people and to Aaron is sufficient to justify excising vv. 1–6 from the original story. Van Seters develops Vermeylen’s observation in a different direction and argues that Exod 32 was composed by combining Deut 9–10 and 1 Kgs 12 (VAN SETERS, Life, 290–318). 26 The expression ‫ חטאה גדלה‬only otherwise occurs in Gen 20:9. 27 For a more extensive discussion of the parallels see ABERBACH / SMOLAR, “Aaron”, 130–134.

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Judah and its king (1 Kgs 12:26–27). Jeroboam’s culpability is emphasized by the repeated use of ‫ עשה‬with him as the subject (12:28, 31 [× 2], 32 [× 4], 33 [× 2]; 13:33). The history of the northern kingdom persistently associates Jeroboam with the sinful course followed by subsequent kings. In contrast Exod 32 attributes sin to the people. As I have already argued, this only somewhat mitigates Aaron’s culpability. A second difference is that in 1 Kgs 12 Jeroboam sins as a king. He represents and leads the newly formed monarchy of Israel into sin. The worship of the golden calves at the high places of Bethel and Dan become the archetypal transgression of the northern kingdom. In the theological perspective of the Deuteronomistic Historians, Jeroboam’s idolatry is a “great sin”, which ultimately results in the entire people being punished, with Israel exiled from the land by the Assyrians (2 Kgs 17:21–23). In Exod 32 Aaron does not represent the people, and a differentiated picture of them emerges. In the Levite episode, three thousand are killed by the sword (32:26–29). In what was probably part of the original narrative, the people are struck by a plague, and presumably only a portion of them die (v. 35). The exchange between Moses and God that precedes the account of the plague seems to suggest that only some of the people were guilty of sin: “whoever sinned against me, I will blot out of my book … at my appointed time, I will visit their sin upon them” (vv. 33–34). A third difference can be seen in the responses of Aaron and Jeroboam. Whilst offering a sacrifice on the altar at Bethel, Jeroboam is confronted by a man of God (1 Kgs 13:1–10). Jeroboam does not heed the prophetic word, and the narrative repeatedly plays on the Hebrew root ‫שוב‬, which serves to highlight Jeroboam’s failure to “return” or “repent”. When the story of the man of God has played out, the narrator observes that “even after this, Jeroboam did not turn (‫ )לא־שב‬from his evil way”. He continued to consecrate illegitimate priests for the high places (1 Kgs 13:33). In the story of the Golden Calf the people do mourn for their sins, and remove their ornaments (Exod 33:4–6). For Aaron’s part, whether or not we judge his response to Moses in 32:21–24 to be adequate, he does confess that the people’s actions are evil. A fourth difference is seen in the prospect of forgiveness. In 1 Kgs 13 the prophetic figure confronts Jeroboam with his sin and promises only the end of the king’s illegitimate cult. In Exod 32, by contrast, Moses raises the possibility of the forgiveness of sin: “and now please forgive their sin, and if not wipe me out of the book you have written” (v. 32). The theme of forgiveness is developed even more directly in Moses’ initial prayer in vv. 11–14. These verses, together with YHWH’s enlightening Moses about what has been happening in the Israelite camp during his absence (vv. 7–10), are usually thought to be a secondary addition to the chapter.28 Moses pleads for forgiveness by appealing 28 The prayer has striking Deuteronomistic language, and is also recounted in Deut 9:25–29. Deuteronomy’s version, coming after Moses’ descent from the mountain, is usually

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to YHWH’s reputation and his promise to the Patriarchs. Moses’ intercession is successful: “YHWH relented concerning the disaster he had promised to bring on his people” (v. 14). The possibility of restarting the relationship between God and Israel appears to be central to the narrative development of the story of the Golden Calf. This is true whether the original story ended in chapter 32, or whether is continued into Exod 33–34, with an assurance that either the divine presence would be maintained or the covenant would be remade. In every case the sin of the Golden Calf is not final, and the disruption to the relationship between God and Israel is overcome.29 In contrast, the consequences of Jeroboam’s sin in the book of Kings are devastating and final. As a result of Jeroboam’s actions the people of Israel are taken into exile by Assyria “and they are there to this day” (2 Kgs 17:23). A fifth and final difference concerns the reasonableness of the act of idolatry. Though the Deuteronomistic writer thoroughly condemns Jeroboam’s actions, he does, rather surprisingly, present the king’s intentions with some empathy and insight. Jerusalem poses a genuine threat to the integrity of Jeroboam’s new kingdom and presents the prospect of divided loyalties (1 Kgs 12:26–27).30 Though the actions are attributed to Jeroboam alone, he acts only after taking counsel (12:28). His willingness to solicit advice contrasts with Rehoboam’s ill-judged dismissal of the advice of his elders (12:6–8). It is far more difficult to judge Aaron kindly, as the commentaries on Exod 32 demonstrate. Aaron acquiesces in the people’s request to “make us gods”. The phrasing could hardly be clearer in portraying the request as a contravention of the first two commandments. Aaron compounds the error by acclaiming the calf with language adopted from the opening of the Decalogue (32:4; cf. 20:2), and by proclaiming a festival. When confronted by Moses, his response is evasive. He accuses the people and disassociates himself from the creation of the calf (32:21–24).31 The narrator’s judgment of Aaron is damning: he has allowed the people to run wild to the derision of their enemies (32:25). thought to be better placed. The introduction of forgiveness so early in Exod 32 appears to destroy the dramatic tension of the passage. 29 For a recent perceptive account of God’s relenting and overcoming “false starts” in his relationship with Israel see SONNET, “God’s Repentance”. 30 Sweeney offers a different assessment: “such a motivation demonstrates that this text is composed to serve Judean interests by portraying Jeroboam as a cynical monarch interested in his own hold on power” (SWEENEY, Kings, 176). 31 So, e.g., Dozeman who writes, “in his version of the story, the calf emerges from the fire. It does not result from his manufacturing of it” (DOZEMAN, Exodus, 711). Propp questions this common interpretation: “Aaron is probably not claiming that the Calf simply stepped out of the furnace … the verb yāṣā(ʾ) can refer to the completion of a manufactured item (Isa 54:16; Prov 25:4)”. Nevertheless, Propp holds that Aaron seeks to deny responsibility here and in his claim that he simply “threw” the gold into the furnace (PROPP, Exodus 19–40, 562).

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The first four differences between Exod 32 and 1 Kgs 12 that I have identified point in a consistent direction. In each case 1 Kgs 12 announces punishment and destruction for Jeroboam’s sin. Exod 32, on the other hand, insists that Israel will survive, whether that is because only the guilty perish, the people repent, or God is moved to forgiveness. The fifth difference makes a contrary impression. Aaron’s conduct is even harder to justify than Jeroboam’s. Although this latter observation would support the view that Aaron – and the Aaronide family – is being damned by association with Jeroboam I’s apostasy, Aaron’s confession of wrong-doing and the prospect of forgiveness tell against it. We are now in a position to move on to the second issue that needs to be addressed: how 1 Kgs 12 will be read in light of the story of Aaron and the Golden Calf. Posing the question of how an anterior story of restored relationship between God and Israel alters our perception of the story of Jeroboam raises an issue that has too often been overlooked, but must be faced if we date Exod 32 late in the history of the Pentateuch.32 As we have seen the parallels between Exod 32 and 1 Kgs 12 indicate that the composer of Exod 32 was familiar with 1 Kgs 12 and utilized it. But the identification of the calf as a “great sin” shows that he was also aware of the larger history of the northern kingdom and the Deuteronomistic assessment that Jeroboam’s sin was a significant reason for the kingdom’s demise. In my judgment there are two effects that the insertion of Exod 32 has on 1 Kgs 12. First, it diminishes the significance of Jeroboam’s sin. The calves at Bethel and Dan are not the archetypal act of apostasy, but rather part of a long history of idolatry that extends back to Israel’s earliest times in the wilderness. Jeroboam’s sin is not a novelty, but the re-emergence of an earlier sin. Second, it raises the possibility of a fresh beginning despite Jeroboam’s sin. The history of Jeroboam and the Northern Kingdom he founded in the book of Kings is one of determined apostasy, which resulted in destruction of the kingdom and a judgment that endures to the present. Exod 32–34 questions the inevitability of judgment. An alternative future may come either through the dynamics of confession and divine forgiveness, or through the purging of some of the people. The transgression of the Golden Calf is not mitigated to any degree – it is still a “great sin” – but the fact that the same sin can be committed in the Mosaic period and be transcended suggests that the punishment for the sin of Jeroboam ben Nebat need not be final. The rhetorical strategy employed by the composer of Exod 32 can be labelled as epic fail. This contemporary English expression is used by young people to describe a failure of monumental proportions, particularly when success could 32

Reading the texts in the order Exod 32 – 1 Kgs 12 is, of course, common in synchronic readings of the biblical text. However, because they do not reckon with a history of composition that is different, they do not consider how 1 Kgs 12 reads with and without Exod 32, and how 1 Kgs 12 has been transformed by the insertion of Exod 32 at an earlier point in Israel’s history.

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be regarded as simple to attain. To my mind this expression neatly captures what biblical interpreters have observed about the story of the Golden Calf. First, interpreters have often been struck by how catastrophic the sin of the Golden Calf is. At the mountain of revelation, after hearing the Ten Commandments, the people transgress by making an image and worshipping it. It is small wonder that interpreters have often appealed to the category of original sin in order to express how complete Israel’s failure is. Second, interpreters have often been at a loss to explain how the Israelites could be presented as disregarding the Ten Commandments, which they had heard spoken directly to them by God, so quickly. And to break the most prominent of the Ten Commandments! After the breath-taking visual and aural experience forty days earlier, it would surely be simpler to obey the commandments than disobey them. But, the language of ‘epic fail’ has an additional feature that I wish to develop. It draws attention to the place of the Golden Calf in the national epic. By placing this monumental failure at the beginning of Israel’s national history, subsequent failures are overshadowed. The story of the Golden Calf assures readers that even the grossest transgressions in Israel’s history can be survived through God’s forgiveness or a purge of the unrighteous. My interpretation of the relationship between Exod 32 and 1 Kgs 12 is consistent with the composition of Exod 32–34 in the postexilic period. It is possible to observe a number of parallels with how other texts from the same period approach the problem of Israel’s history of sinfulness. First, the importance of repentance for bringing the exile to an end is expressed in Deut 30:1–10. Returning to God, expressed in obedience to his law, will result in God returning to the people and restoring them to the land. The necessity of repentance in exile is also found in the expansion of Solomon’s prayer of dedication (1 Kgs 8:46–52), and in the book of Jeremiah (24:7; 29:12–14). Second, distinguishing the wicked and the righteous within Israel and purging the wicked is an idea expressed in late exilic texts such as Isa 65–66 and Mal 3:16–18. Finally, the use of the distant past to resolve the problems of the history of the Hebrew kingdoms can also be seen in the priestly idea of the “eternal covenant”. The priestly literature resolves the problem of the broken Sinai covenant by postulating anterior covenants with Noah and Abraham. These covenants are “eternal”, and thus unbreakable. The seriousness of Israel’s failure to keep the Sinai covenant is not mitigated, but the future is secured by the perdurance of the anterior covenants with Noah and Abraham. Whilst allowing for the differences between the negative Golden Calf story and the positive concept of the eternal covenants, in both cases an anterior event qualifies Israel’s catastrophic failure, and raises the possibility of new hope beyond the exile. Why, then, does the composer of this story have Aaron embroiled in the Israelites’ idolatry? If my interpretation is correct, we have misread the story by making it a repository of ancient conflicts and traditions about the priesthood. The composer of Exod 32 is not seeking to settle scores within a history of

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priestly rivalry, but to find a way of explaining how Israel’s history with God can restart after the catastrophe of sin and exile. Aaron’s involvement is essential because it heightens the nature of the failure. In the terms I have chosen, it ensures that it is, indeed, an epic fail. Aaron is the individual whom the reader – but not the Israelites – knows has been selected to act as priest in the Tabernacle (Exod 28–29). Aaron is a central figure within the story, not because he is the eponymous ancestor of a priestly sept, but because he is the most esteemed figure within the developing Pentateuch, with the possible exception of Moses, who cannot be included as he is up the mountain. Aaron’s complicity overshadows even that of Jeroboam, the first king of the northern kingdom. If Aaron’s failure can be overcome, so can the northern kingdom’s.

Conclusion The story of the Golden Calf was composed in light of the fall of both Hebrew kingdoms. From the perspective of the Deuteronomistic History, the sin of Jeroboam leads inexorably to the fall of Samaria, and the fall of Samaria anticipates the fall of Jerusalem (2 Kgs 17). Judah’s error is to follow Israel in its idolatry. The story of the Golden Calf confronts this catastrophic history by delving into the past. The existential threat to Israel’s institutions, right at the beginning, because of sin offers hope for Israel’s future. The beginning of Israel’s existence as God’s people was marred by the gravest apostasy, in which even Israel’s high priest was culpable. The story of the Golden Calf, nevertheless, insists that such failure can be overcome. If there is evidence for a fracturing of the priesthood after the fall of Jerusalem, it is not to be found in Exod 32. Nor is there evidence in this story that the rise of Torah is to be attributed to the attempt by different parties to win authority for their own vision of the past, and thus also the future. Instead, priests are hallowed figures who are portrayed in moments of great failure because of the esteem in which they are held.

Literature ABERBACH, M. / SMOLAR, L. , “Aaron, Jeroboam, and the Golden Calves”, JBL 86 (1967) 129–140. AURELIUS, E., Der Fürbitter Israels: Eine Studie zum Mosebild im Alten Testament (ConBOT 27), Stockholm 1988. BLENKINSOPP, J., “The Judaean Priesthood During the Neo-Babylonian and Achaemenid Periods: A Hypothetical Reconstruction”, CBQ 60 (1998) 25–43. CHILDS, B. S., Exodus: A Commentary (OTL), London 1974. CROSS, F. M., “The Priestly Houses of Early Israel”, in: idem, Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic: Essays in the History of the Religion of Israel, Cambridge, MA 1973, 195–215. DAHMEN, U., Leviten und Priester im Deuteronomium: Literarkritische und redaktionsgeschichtliche Studien (BBB 110), Bodenheim 1996.

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DOZEMAN, T. B., Commentary on Exodus, Grand Rapids 2009. GREENSTEIN, E. J., “The Formation of the Biblical Narrative Corpus”, AJS Review 15 (1990) 151–178. GUNNEWEG, A. H. J., Leviten und Priester: Hauptlinien der Traditionsbildung und Geschichte des israelitisch-jüdischen Kultpersonals (FRLANT 89), Göttingen 1965. HANSON, P. D., The Dawn of Apocalyptic, Philadelphia 1975. KNOPPERS, G. N., “Aaron’s Calf and Jeroboam’s Calves”, in: A. Beck et al. (eds.), Fortunate the Eyes That See (FS D. N. Freedman), Grand Rapids 1995, 92–104. KONKEL, M., Sünde und Vergebung: Eine Rekonstruktion der Redaktionsgeschichte der hinteren Sinaiperikope (Exodus 32–34) vor dem Hintergrund aktueller Pentateuchmodelle (FAT 58), Tübingen 2008. KRATZ, R. G., The Composition of the Narrative Books of the Old Testament, London 2005. MACDONALD, N., Priestly Rule: Polemic and Biblical Interpretation in Ezekiel 44 (BZAW 476), Berlin 2015. NIHAN, C., From Priestly Torah to Pentateuch: A Study in the Composition of the Book of Leviticus (FAT II 25), Tübingen 2007. NOCQUET, D., “Pourquoi Aaron n’a-t-il pas été châtié après la fabrication du taurillon d’or? Essai sur les mentions d’Aaron en Exode 32,1-33,6”, ETR 81 (2006) 229–254. NOTH, M., Exodus: A Commentary (trans. J. S. Bowden; OTL), London 1962. OLYAN, S., “Zadok’s Origins and the Tribal Politics of David”, JBL 101 (1982) 177–193. PROPP, W. H., Exodus 19–40: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 2A), New Haven 2006. SAMUEL, H., Von Priestern zum Patriarchen: Levi und die Leviten im Alten Testament (BZAW 448), Berlin 2014. SCHAPER, J., Priester und Leviten im achämenidischen Juda: Studien zur Kult- und Sozialgeschichte Israels in persischer Zeit (FAT 31), Tübingen 2000. SCHMID, K., “Israel am Sinai: Etappen der Forschungsgeschichte zu Ex 32–34 in seinen Kontexten”, in: M. Köckert / E. Blum (eds.), Gottes Volk am Sinai: Untersuchungen zu Ex 32–34 und Dtn 9–10 (VWGTh 18), Gütersloh 2001, 9–40. SONNET, J.-P., “God’s Repentance and ‘False Starts’ in Biblical History (Genesis 6–9; Exodus 32–34; 1 Samuel 15 and 2 Samuel 7)”, in: A. Lemaire (ed.), Congress Volume, Ljubljana 2007 (VT.S 133), Leiden 2010, 469–494. SWEENEY, M., I & II Kings: A Commentary (OTL), Louisville, KY 2007. VAN SETERS, J., The Life of Moses: The Yahwist as Historian in Exodus–Numbers, Louisville, KY 1994. VERMEYLEN, J., “L’affaire du veau d’or (Ex 32–34). Une clé pour la ‘question deuteronomiste’?”, ZAW 97 (1985) 1–23. WATTS, J. W., “Aaron and the Golden Calf in the Rhetoric of the Pentateuch”, JBL 130 (2011) 417–430. —, Leviticus 1–10 (HCOT), Leuven 2013. WELLHAUSEN, J., Prolegomena to the History of Israel with a Reprint of the Article Israel from the “Encyclopaedia Britannica” (trans. J. S. Black and A. Menzies), Edinburgh 1885.

Political Allegory in the Priestly Source The Destruction of Jerusalem, the Exile and their Alternatives Jeffrey Stackert One of the enduring contributions of modern critical study of the Hebrew Bible is its recognition that pentateuchal descriptions of the past reflect the events, perspectives and thought processes of the time periods of their composers and not necessarily those of the periods depicted. Among other things, this observation sets the stage for critical analyses of pentateuchal narratives as political allegories: the texts, while admitting of richly developed literary fictions, nonetheless point beyond themselves to real historical circumstances in their presents which they characterize and critique, and to which they propose alternatives. The pentateuchal Priestly source (P) has been a special locus for such allegorical readings, and since the late nineteenth century, its concern has often been interpreted in relation to the destruction of Jerusalem, the Babylonian exile, and the postexilic Judean experience. To cite a recent example that is representative of this interpretive trajectory,1 Christophe Nihan argues that P’s Achaemenid-era audience is meant to identify with the patriarchs as sojourners (‫ )גרים‬in the land; that P’s concern for distinctive identity in the midst of Israel’s cohabitation with non-Israelites reflects Persian social policies in Judah; and that the omission of explicit royal ambitions in P likewise coincides with Judean realities in the Achaemenid era. He thus concludes, “The complex myth of origins in Gen 1–Lev 16* can be regarded as the Ursprungslegende, the founding account, of the nascent postmonarchic, post-state temple community in Jerusalem”.2 Yet as compelling as they are, allegories are especially susceptible to the interpreter’s creativity and even distortion. Northrop Frye argues that, because they seek to direct their own interpretation and in so doing constrain the reader, allegories may stimulate resistance in their interpreters, who might prefer their own readings to those recommended by the allegory.3 For such reasons, the interpretation of allegory pleads for critical control. What is the means of such I am grateful to the conference participants in Rome for their helpful feedback and critique. I am also grateful to Samuel L. Boyd of the University of Colorado-Boulder for his comments and suggestions. I am, of course, responsible for any errors that remain. 1 For a helpful review of scholarship on political perspectives in P, see SCHMID, “Judean Identity”. 2 NIHAN, Priestly Torah, 383–394 (p. 391). 3 FRYE, Anatomy, 90; cf. FLETCHER, Allegory, 325–326.

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control? For narrative texts such as the Priestly source, I would suggest that it must be the fiction itself.4 That is, if interpretations of such allegories are to be credible, they must provide a compelling analysis of the narrative and, in particular, its plot and characterization. Addressing the same issue, Joel Rosenberg contends: There is every reason to avoid dispensing with the mythological “charm” of the narrative. We must travel its trajectory before we try to offer any exegesis. We must understand the tug on our attention exercised by myth and fancy, then politely disengage ourselves from it, and reconstruct the concrete, if textually absent, social setting to which the story “refers”, and in the presence of which it dissembles.5

Put more forcefully, because the text’s fiction gives the reader access to its allegory and thereby offers cues for its decipherment,6 this fiction is of utmost importance for the reader. Maureen Quilligan observes: Readers of allegory … gain in sophistication only as they follow the narrative … the experience of reading allegory always operates by a gradual revelation to a reader who, acknowledging that he does not already know the answers, discovers them, usually by a process of relearning them. If the reader begins with a presumptuous sense that he already knows how to interpret, the narrative will first teach him that he does not.7

In this paper, then, I will consider again the literary fiction of the pentateuchal Priestly source, and especially what I will identify as this source’s earlier P stratum, which forms the foundation and basic scaffolding of the Priestly narrative. I will focus on this work’s claims about divine presence and their implications for understanding P’s allegory. I will then contrast P’s claims regarding divine presence with those of the Priestly source’s later, Holiness (H) stratum, which introduces the possibility of divine abandonment into P’s understanding of divine presence. This important difference between P and H has significant implications for locating the composition of these strata historically. Specifically, it suggests that the composition of the Priestly strata may be situated on either side of the destruction of Jerusalem, a claim that I will buttress by linguistic comparisons with the newly published cache of Neo-Babylonian and Persian period cuneiform tablets that describe the lives of Judeans in Mesopotamia.

1. The Priestly Narrative Before turning to the identification of allegory in the Priestly source and the place of divine presence within it, I will briefly characterize this composition as 4

On the application of the category of fiction to the pentateuchal Priestly source, see the helpful discussion in LISS, “Sanctuary”. For arguments against such application of the category of fiction to biblical historical narrative see STERNBERG, Poetics, 23–35. 5 ROSENBERG, King, 46. 6 See FRYE, Anatomy, 89–92. Fletcher notes the optimistic intention of allegorical writing: “The correspondences of allegory are open to any who have a decoder’s skill” (Allegory, 325). 7 QUILLIGAN, Allegory, 227.

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I reconstruct it. As I have indicated already, I am distinguishing two major strata in the Priestly source: an earlier, independent P (or, as it is sometimes termed, Pg) document and a later H composition, which I identify as a set of supplements and revisions to P.8 P’s aim is to enumerate and rationalize a set of rules that create the requisite circumstances for YHWH’s habitation on earth and, specifically, among the Israelites. This habitation, by virtue of the deity’s realization and maintenance of it, confers tangible benefits upon Israel – what P terms “blessings” (‫)ברכות‬. Yet as I will argue, P does not characterize these blessings as advantages for Israel meant to benefit them; they are instead necessities for the deity’s habitation on earth and thus properly for YHWH. In the service of this project, P offers a historical account. It begins with a depiction of the origins of the world, including a brief cosmogony and anthropogony.9 Yet its cosmogony and anthropogony, like the subsequent history of humanity that P recounts, are preliminary to, and thus in service of, its history and rationalization of the Israelite cult, which is an aetiology for Israel itself. Particularly important for understanding P as a whole is the refrain of its creation account: ‫וירא אלהים כי טוב‬, “God judged it good”.10 This statement sets the stage for the P’s unfolding plot. YHWH is pleased with his creation. Yet as a majestic king who resides in splendid repose, he is dispositionally inattentive to the world that he has made, preferring to remain at maximum remove from it.11 It is precisely this combination of divine attitudes – YHWH’s strong affection toward his creation and simultaneous disregard for it – that occasions the single major disruption in P. After its creation account, P’s next major episode opens with overwhelming violence (‫חמס‬, Gen 6:11) having filled the earth. The humans and animals that YHWH had directed to eat only vegetation (Gen 1:29–30) are devouring each other, and their bloodshed disturbs YHWH’s repose.12 This unbearable state provokes YHWH to destroy nearly all of the earth’s creatures 8 See esp. ELLIGER, Leviticus, 14–20; KNOHL, Sanctuary; SCHWARTZ, Holiness Legislation, 17–24 (Hebrew). 9 There have been several recent attempts to attribute the Priestly creation account, in part or in whole, to H rather than P. See, e.g., AMIT, “Creation”, esp. 22*–26* (Hebrew); FIRMAGE, “Genesis 1”; MILGROM, “HR”, 33–37; ARNOLD, “Genesis 1”. These studies do not take sufficient account of the genre of P, namely, its narrative form and governing storyline. 10 For discussion of this refrain in Gen 1, see esp. KUGEL, “kî ṭôb”; JANZEN, “kî ṭôb”; BANDSTRA, “Syntax”, 110–116; SCHIPPER / STACKERT, “Blemishes”, 468–470. 11 There are apparently exceptional breaks in YHWH’s inattentiveness, such as with Enoch (Gen 5:24), but such attention is presented precisely as exceptional. Note that Nihan argues that ‫ התהלך את‬means that YHWH is close at hand in the prediluvian Priestly world (citing Gen 5:22, 24; 6:9; Priestly Torah, 62–63), but there is no basis for this reading in P. It appears instead to be a harmonization with J’s depiction of YHWH as walking in the garden (Gen 3:8, with ‫)התהלך‬. 12 Note that biblical violence is loud and disruptive, and that YHWH is expected to respond to it (Jer 6:7; Hab 1:2; Job 19:7; Jonah 3:8; cf. also Abel’s blood crying out in Gen 4:10; I am grateful to Ms Maria Metzler for this observation). The disturbance of the deity in P’s flood is thus probably aural, like the disturbance of Enlil in Atrahasis. In each case the deity is roused from his repose.

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with a flood. But it also spurs YHWH’s decision to inhabit the earth: even in the face of a world run amok, YHWH’s fondness for his creation is undaunted. He thus chooses to give up his distant position to live in the midst of his creation.13 What follows in P is the process of YHWH’s transition from the heavens to the earth. This process includes the formal selection of Abram and his descendants as YHWH’s people, the establishment of the deity’s earthly habitation, the revelation of the rules that attend this sanctuary, and the eventual settlement of YHWH’s sanctuary amidst the Israelites in Canaan. In this historicized narrative, people, land and sanctuary are fundamentally interconnected. If YHWH is to live on earth, he must have a sanctuary, and his sanctuary must have a designated group of people to resource it. He must also have a land, but this land is not simply a location to situate his sanctuary.14 As P’s agricultural emphases attest, a land is essential for YHWH’s people to produce the sanctuary’s resources.15 And because, like other ancient Near Eastern deities, P’s god is enormous,16 he requires vast resources. To satisfy YHWH, then, Israel must be exceptionally numerous,17 and their agricultural yield must be exceedingly bountiful. YHWH ensures such outsized fecundity through the ritual production of signs that he requires of Israel: circumcision reminds the deity to bless the Israelites with numerous progeny (Gen 17:4–6), and Sabbath observance prompts YHWH to bolster the productivity of the land he has allotted to them (Gen 17:8).18

2. Allegory and the Priestly Source How does this Priestly narrative function allegorically? And, are P and H properly allegories? To answer these questions, it is important first to note 13

See SCHIPPER / STACKERT, “Blemishes”, 469, 475–476, which builds upon SCHWARTZ, “Flood”, 150–153 (Hebrew). See also BLUM, Studien, 287–332; SOMMER, Bodies, 74. 14 For the integral connection between the gift of the land and YHWH’s sanctuary, see, e.g., RÖMER, “Pentateuque”, 354; KÖCKERT, “Land”, 152–153. On the land more generally in P, see, inter alia (and representing a variety of perspectives), BAUKS, “Histoire”; GUILLAUME, Land; BOORER, “Envisioning”; SKA, “Récit”. 15 See esp. CHAVEL, Oracular Law, 175–177. 16 On the (imagined) physical size of the deity and his sanctuary, see SMITH, “Like Deities”. Note, too, that the time needed to allow Israel’s population to grow to sufficient size to support YHWH’s sanctuary provides the explanation in P for Israel’s long sojourn in Egypt (Exod 1:7; 12:37–38, 40–41). For a different view, see SOMMER, Bodies, 72. Sommer argues instead that the divine body (kābôd) in P may vary in size but that, if it does not, it must be rather small owing to the modest size of the holy of holies. What is unclear is the extent to which P accurately portrays its views in its depiction of the wilderness period. As Haran notes (with specific reference to the Priestly sanctuary), P’s presentation is literary, utopian and influenced by earlier traditions. The correspondence between the wilderness tent and the Jerusalem sanctuary is thus not always exact (Temples, 194–204). 17 On population growth in P, see SCHMID, “Quest”, 280–282. 18 See FOX, “Sign”, 586–596; SCHIPPER / STACKERT, “Blemishes”, 474–477; STACKERT, “Priestly Sabbaths”.

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215

that allegory is not limited to a single genre. In fact, literary theorists emphasize that a critical element in defining allegory is the broad range of its expression. Angus Fletcher keenly observes, In the simplest terms, allegory says one thing and means another. It destroys the normal expectation we have about language, that our words “mean what they say.” When we predicate quality x of person Y, Y really is what our predication says he is (or we assume so); but allegory would turn Y into something other (allos) than what the open and direct statement tells the reader. Pushed to an extreme, this ironic usage would subvert language itself, turning everything into an Orwellian newspeak. In this sense we see how allegory is properly considered a mode: it is a fundamental process of encoding our speech. For the very reason that it is a radical linguistic procedure, it can appear in all sorts of different works, many of which fall far short of the confusing doubleness that made Orwell’s newspeak such an effective brainwashing device.19

In addition to identifying allegory as properly a mode rather than a genre, Fletcher’s definition suggests that a continuum of signification may exist within an allegorical work. It is possible for some of its constituents to index extratextual realities without a symbolism so thoroughgoing that all elements point beyond themselves. Both Frye and Rosenberg make similar observations. Frye states, “An author is being allegorical whenever it is clear that he is saying ‘by this I also (allos) mean that’”. Moreover, he emphasizes that literary allegory tends to be complex, exhibiting a “sliding scale” of allegory that moves from the most explicit to the most elusive, even as it remains within the conventions of literature.20 Building on Frye, Rosenberg distinguishes between works that “are” allegories and works that “use” allegory but are “complex and hybrid in nature”.21 Such works may function identifiably within their literary genre even as they employ the allegorical mode. It is such a complex style of allegory that characterizes the pentateuchal Priestly source. As noted above, this work is a richly imagined historical narrative with a well-developed, cohesive plot-line. At the same time, it advances and endorses a set of corollaries with its contemporary context that look beyond its narrative world. These observations also make clear the political nature of the Priestly source and thus its proper designation as political allegory. Its ostensibly historical narrative, arranged from beginning to middle to end, presents and explains past events in particular, value-laden ways;22 the correspondences between this fiction and its authors’ world likewise aim to influence and persuade.23 The Priestly source thus shapes a fictive past for the sake of its real present; in so doing, it participates in a marketplace of religious ideas. 19

FLETCHER, Allegory, 2–3. FRYE, Anatomy, 90–91. 21 ROSENBERG, King, 12. 22 See WHITE, Metahistory, 5–11. 23 On political allegory as a category for understanding biblical narrative, see esp. ROSENBERG, King, 1–46. For discussion of the rhetoric of the Priestly source, see esp. WATTS, Ritual. 20

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3. Divine Presence and Absence in the Priestly Source As discussed above, the orienting concern of the pentateuchal Priestly source is YHWH’s presence on earth and his selection of the Israelites as the locus for his presence. This Priestly interest resembles a core interest of much ancient Near Eastern religious thought. Deities in the ancient Near East are regularly conceptualized as specifically located, and close proximity to the deity is often understood to confer special benefits.24 A recurring feature of this conceptualization of divine presence is also its inverse – divine absence or abandonment, which, like divine presence, has corresponding effects. If a deity becomes discontented in its environs, that deity may depart. In such cases, the benefits previously enjoyed by those proximate to the deity are lost, and the deity’s anger may even occasion specific or intensified adversity.25 Many scholars have posited that P includes, as part of its understanding of divine presence, a threat of divine abandonment in the future.26 For example, in his seminal article, “Israel’s Sanctuary: The Priestly ‘Picture of Dorian Gray’ ”, Jacob Milgrom explains the Priestly system of sanctuary purification in precisely these terms. In P’s view, he states, Israel’s sins and impurities contaminate the sanctuary, and if the Israelites do not purge these sins and impurities from the divine abode, YHWH will depart from it, taking with him the blessings and protections his presence affords Israel.27 Other scholars argue similarly: the threat of divine abandonment is understood to be fundamental to the Priestly religious imagination.28 Notwithstanding the scholarly consensus it enjoys, there is reason to question this interpretation of divine presence in P. To be sure, P imagines in its historical account a time when YHWH did not dwell among the Israelites. Yet unlike other ancient Near Eastern accounts of divine presence, P includes no description or threat of divine abandonment. In his “Dorian Gray” article, just cited, Milgrom tacitly admits as much. When he explains the idea of divine abandonment in P, he is forced to turn to Ezekiel: 24 For recent discussion of divine location in the ancient Near East, including in ancient Israel, see SOMMER, Bodies; ALLEN, Splintered Divine. For discussion of concrete ancient Near Eastern realizations of divine presence theologies, see BERLEJUNG, “Divine Presence”. 25 On divine anger in Israel and the wider ancient Near Eastern world, see recently GRANT, Divine Anger, and the essays in KRATZ / SPIECKERMANN (eds.), Divine Wrath. 26 For discussions of divine abandonment in the Hebrew Bible and the wider ancient Near East, see, e.g., BLOCK, “Divine Abandonment”; KUTSKO, Heaven and Earth; BURNETT, Where Is God? 27 MILGROM, “Israel’s Sanctuary”, 396–398. 28 See, e.g., GORMAN, Ideology, 45; SCHWARTZ, “Bearing”, 4–5; KLAWANS, “Pure Violence”, 151–156; OLYAN, Rites, 16; NIHAN, Priestly Torah, 194–195 et passim; HUNDLEY, Keeping Heaven, 49, 96–99, 135–200. As I will address below, some scholars recognize that P circumvents the threat of divine abandonment through the divine rules for expurgating the sanctuary of contamination; yet even such interpretations admit of the possibility of divine abandonment in P’s religious imagination.

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Finally, why the urgency to purge the sanctuary? The answer lies in the postulate: the God to Israel will not abide in a polluted sanctuary. The merciful God will tolerate a modicum of pollution. But there is a point of no return. If the pollution continues to accumulate, the end is inexorable: “The cherubim lifted their wings” (Ez. XI, 22). The divine chariot flies heavenward and Israel is left to its doom.29

In the footnote accompanying this passage, Milgrom strengthens his appeal to Ezekiel, stating, “The first eleven chapters of the prophet-priest Ezekiel are constructed on the priestly axiom that God’s departure from his sanctuary is tantamount to Israel’s doom”.30 It is necessary to ask, however, whether divine abandonment is indeed so axiomatic in priestly thought. Does P simply assume what is stated explicitly in Ezekiel? Neither the details of P’s plot nor its characterization of YHWH or Israel support such a claim. In its accounts of YHWH’s decision to cohabit with Israel, the various preparations and requirements for making this habitation possible, YHWH’s actual indwelling of his sanctuary, and the Israelites’ entry into Canaan, P presents the deity as wholly self-interested. YHWH’s decision to reside among the Israelites is not altruistic or self-effacing; YHWH instead indulges himself and his delight in his created world by imposing himself within it. Accordingly, the benefits that accrue to the Israelites due to YHWH’s presence in their midst – agricultural plenty, abundant offspring, protection – are all properly for YHWH, not for Israel. They make possible YHWH’s presence on earth; they do not reward Israel for its behaviour or pedigree. That this arrangement nonetheless requires such assiduous obedience from Israel with no direct reward presents no difficulty for P. As others have noted, P advances a fundamentally positive anthropology: YHWH’s expectation – and that of the P authors – is that, under normal circumstances, humans will heed the deity’s commands.31 There is thus no need for incentives to ensure Israel’s obedience. It is also noteworthy that there is no contingency in P that attends YHWH’s decision to dwell in Israel’s midst. In fact, it is just the opposite: YHWH’s decision is entirely resolute. Put in the language of P, it is a ‫ברית עולם‬, an eternal commitment (Gen 17:7).32 In light of the parameters established by this narrative, then, positing an implicit threat of divine abandonment in P makes little sense. YHWH’s presence among the Israelites is not part of a do ut des arrangement. As P has constructed its fiction, if YHWH were to abandon Israel, it would be solely to his own detriment and contrary to his depiction in the larger composition. Divine abandonment would similarly defy P’s characterization of Israel. In other words, 29

MILGROM, “Israel’s Sanctuary”, 396–397. MILGROM, “Israel’s Sanctuary”, 397 n. 27. 31 See esp. POLA, Priesterschrift, 116–146; STACKERT, “Darkness”, 671–674. 32 On the connotations of ‫ ברית‬in pentateuchal Priestly literature, see STACKERT, “Distinguishing”, 380–384. 30

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P’s views of YHWH, Israel, and Israel’s deference to divine commands leave little reason to anticipate that threats to YHWH’s presence should arise. We may conclude, then, that in P, divine absence should be understood exclusively in historical terms – namely, as part of the past it narrates – and not as a potentiality in the religious programme it advocates. The Holiness stratum of the Priestly source, however, departs markedly from this view of divine presence in its supplementary revisions to P. H’s alternative view is most pronounced in the list of inducements for Israelite obedience in Lev 26. For example, in vv. 30–33, YHWH states, ‫והשמדתי את במתיכם‬ ‫והכרתי את חמניכם‬ ‫ונתתי את פגריכם‬ ‫על פגרי גלוליכם‬ ‫וגעלה נפשי אתכם‬ ‫ונתתי את עריכם חרבה‬ ‫והשמותי את מקדשיכם‬ ‫ולא אריח בריח ניחחכם‬ ‫והשמתי אני את הארץ‬ ‫ושממו עליה איביכם‬ ‫הישבים בה‬ ‫ואתכם אזרה בגוים‬ ‫והריקתי אחריכם חרב‬ ‫והיתה ארצכם שממה‬ ‫ועריכם יהיו חרבה‬

30 I will destroy your high places and cut down your incense stands. I will heap your corpses on the corpses of your idols. I will abhor you. 31 I will make your cities a ruin, and I will destroy your sanctuaries and no longer savour your pleasing aroma. 32 I myself will make the land a desolation, so much so that your enemies who will dwell upon it will be appalled. 33 As for you, I will scatter you among the nations and unsheathe the sword to pursue you. Your land shall be a desolation and your cities a ruin.

In these verses, YHWH threatens to destroy cultic sites, to refuse offerings, and to exile the Israelites. The inclusion of such threats entails a thorough reorientation of P’s conceptualization of divine presence: H views the sanctuary, the cult, the people and their fertile land – in other words, all of the basic requirements for YHWH’s presence among the Israelites – as potentially imperilled. H also introduces in Lev 26 specific, positive inducements for Israelite obedience (vv. 3–13) and explicitly characterizes them as benefits for the Israelites related to the deity’s presence in their midst (vv. 11–12).33 In this chapter, then, P’s notion of divine presence at YHWH’s own initiative and without any prospect of divine abandonment is thoroughly upended by H. Yet H also works to reconcile its notion of divine abandonment with the idea of YHWH’s iron-clad commitment to Israel that it inherits from P. H thus claims that, even if YHWH absents himself from Israel, he will not completely sever his relationship with his people.34 Leviticus 26:44–45 states, 33

Note also that Lev 26:11 contrasts divine abhorrence (‫)געל‬, referenced in relation to destruction in vv. 30–33, with divine presence. Cf. also Jer 14:19. 34 See JOOSTEN, “Covenant”, 150–151; STACKERT, “Distinguishing”.

Political Allegory in the Priestly Source

‫ואף גם זאת‬ ‫בהיותם בארץ איביהם‬ ‫לא מאסתים ולא געלתים‬ ‫לכלתם‬ ‫להפר בריתי אתם‬ ‫כי אני יהוה אלהיהם‬ ‫וזכרתי להם‬ ‫ברית ראשנים‬ ‫אשר הוצאתי אתם מארץ מצרים‬ ‫לעיני הגוים להית להם לאלהים‬ ‫אני יהוה‬

219

44 Yet even then, when they are in the land of their enemies, I will not reject them or spurn them in such a way as to put an end to them and thereby nullify my commitment to them, for I, YHWH, am their god. 45 I will instead remember for their sake the commitment that I made with their forefathers, whom I brought out from the land of Egypt in the sight of the nations, to be their god. I am YHWH.

H thus mediates between two views: one that recognizes and even anticipates the experience of divine absence and another that acknowledges no such possibility. Its solution is to ensure the endurance of YHWH’s commitment, his ‫ברית‬, to Israel, even in the face of exile. As in other ancient Near Eastern instances, divine abandonment in H is not an irrevocable end.35

4. Priestly Allegories: Situating the Priestly Strata What are the implications of these narrative observations for understanding pentateuchal Priestly allegory – or, as the juxtaposition of P and H just rehearsed might suggest, allegories? More pointedly, do the different views of divine abandonment in the pentateuchal Priestly strata point to their authors’ differing historical perspectives and experiences? With its supposition of a landed context for its sanctuary and cultic practice, even in its depiction of the Israelites’ wilderness wandering, P is most naturally situated in either the preexilic or the postexilic period. Yet an immediate challenge to a proposed postexilic setting – and a further argument against a possible exilic setting – is the striking absence of any contemplation of divine abandonment in P. This idea permeates both exilic and postexilic biblical texts (e.g., Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Lamentations, Second Isaiah, Haggai, Zechariah, Malachi) and is thoroughly integrated into priestly prophetic thought, as noted already in the case of Ezekiel.36 Nevertheless, it finds no expression in P. Moreover, P’s authors reflect no memory of the destruction of Jerusalem or the experience of exile – certainly not one that motivates them to institute religious remedies that would mitigate similar calamity in the future, as has sometimes been suggested.37 To explain the absence of any divine abandonment threat in P, I would suggest that its authors simply do not anticipate the loss of the Temple or the 35

STACKERT, “Distinguishing”, 383–384. For analysis of the notions of divine presence and absence in exilic and postexilic biblical texts, see esp. the essays in MACDONALD / DE HULSTER (eds.), Divine Presence. 37 E.g., NIHAN, Priestly Torah, 372; HUNDLEY, Keeping Heaven, 175. 36

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exile at the hand of the Babylonians. P writers are thus able to advance a set of religious ideas that is irreconcilable with the threat of YHWH’s departure. Put plainly, P does not readily index the destruction of Jerusalem and its aftermath, either prospectively or retrospectively. For H, the historical situation appears to be quite different. Within its religious programme, H views destruction, divine abandonment and exile as real possibilities. In this regard, H and Ezekiel align closely and together diverge from P. Yet situating H historically on the basis of its threats of divine abandonment and exile is a fraught exercise. Though it has sometimes been suggested, a straightforward correlation of H’s threats with the destruction of Jerusalem and the Babylonian exile is surely too simplistic. Given the imperial war practices of the Assyrians and Babylonians in the Levant in the eighth to seventh centuries, it was hardly necessary for the Judeans to have experienced catastrophic military defeat and exile for H’s authors to anticipate such possibilities.38 The punishments that H threatens in Lev 26 thus do not, by themselves, justify an exilic or postexilic date for its composition. Yet new evidence is emerging that bolsters the connection between H and the Babylonian exile. In their forthcoming study Fault, Responsibility, and Administrative Law in Late Babylonian Legal Texts, F. Rachel Magdalene, Bruce Wells and Cornelia Wunsch analyse 96 texts that include the clause ḫīṭu ša šarri zabālu / šadādu, “to bear responsibility for the king’s punishment”, a technical expression of legal responsibility for fault that appears in late Babylonian legal documents.39 Two examples of this ḫīṭu clause appear in Judean documents – one written in Āl-Yahūdu (that is, Judahtown) in the tenth year of Darius (approx. 513 BCE) and the other written in Babylon in the third year of Xerxes (approx. 484 BCE).40 The use of the ḫīṭu clause in these late Babylonian documents closely parallels the use of the ‫ נשא עון‬and ‫ נשא חטא‬clauses in pentateuchal Priestly texts. Both the Babylonian and the biblical instances describe legal responsibility for wrongdoing, i.e., liability for punishment,41 and this liability in each case 38

This point has been made repeatedly. For a recent discussion, see SOMMER, “Dating”, 91–94. 39 I am grateful to Rachel Magdalene, Bruce Wells, and Cornelia Wunsch for sharing with me a prepublication version of their treatment of these texts, which is to appear in the AOAT series from Ugarit-Verlag. The texts themselves will be published in WUNSCH, Judeans (text numbers BaAr 6 4 and BaAr 6 83). 40 See now the publication of an initial subset of Judean documents from the David Sofer Collection in PEARCE / WUNSCH, Documents. This cache of tablets dates from the year 572 BCE to the year 477, and thus adds significantly to what was previously known about Judeans in Babylonia from the documents of the Murašû archive, which date to the second half of the fifth century BCE (PEARCE / WUNSCH, Documents, 4–5; cf. ABRAHAM, “Reconstruction”, 264). See also the helpful recent discussions in PEARCE, “Evidence”; ZADOK, “Judeans”. 41 For the biblical expression, see esp. SCHWARTZ, “Bearing”; LAM, “Sin”, esp. 140–279. See also WELLS, “Liability”.

Political Allegory in the Priestly Source

221

is indexed to a monarch (human or divine).42 Moreover, in each case, the responsibility for wrongdoing is transferable from one party to another. Yet alongside their shared similarity with the ḫīṭu clause, a distinction can be drawn between ‫ נשא עון‬and ‫ נשא חטא‬on the basis of their distribution across the pentateuchal Priestly strata. While P repeatedly employs the expression ‫( נשא עון‬Exod 28:38, 43; Lev 5:1, 17; 7:18; 10:17; 16:22; Num 14:34; 30:16), it never uses the expression ‫נשא חטא‬. In H, by contrast, ‫ נשא חטא‬appears seven times (Lev 19:17; 20:20; 22:9; 24:15; Num 9:13; 18:22, 32) and ‫נשא עון‬ appears seven times as well (Lev 17:16; 19:8; 20:17, 19; 22:16; Num 18:1, 23). In several instances, H employs ‫ נשא חטא‬and ‫ נשא עון‬in the same unit and with no appreciable difference in semantics. Num 18:22–23 demonstrate such juxtaposition of and equivalence between ‫ נשא חטא‬and ‫נשא עון‬: ‫ולא יקרבו עוד בני ישראל‬ ‫אל אהל מועד‬ ‫לשאת חטא למות‬ ‫ועבד הלוי הוא‬ ‫את עבדת אהל מועד‬ ‫והם ישאו עונם‬ ‫חקת עולם לדרתיכם‬ ‫ובתוך בני ישראל‬ ‫לא ינחלו נחלה‬

22 The Israelites shall no longer draw near to the Tent of Meeting and thereby bear capital responsibility. 23 Rather, it is the Levite who will perform the service of the Tent of Meeting; they shall bear responsibility for them [i.e., the Israelites] – it is an eternal statute for your generations – but among the Israelites they shall have no inheritance.

Leviticus 20:19–20 similarly employ ‫ נשא חטא‬and ‫ נשא עון‬with no appreciable semantic difference: ‫וערות אחות אמך‬ ‫ואחות אביך לא תגלה‬ ‫כי את שארו הערה‬ ‫עונם ישאו‬ ‫ואיש אשר ישכב את דדתו‬ ‫ערות דדו גלה‬ ‫חטאם ישאו‬ ‫ערירים ימתו‬

19 You shall not uncover the nakedness of your mother’s sister or your father’s sister for the one who does so has laid bare his own flesh. They shall bear the responsibility for their wrongdoing. 20 A man who lies with his aunt has uncovered the nakedness of his uncle. They shall bear the responsibility for their wrongdoing; they shall die childless.

The occurrence of the ḫīṭu clause exclusively in Late Babylonian texts and its specific attestation among the Judean tablets from Babylonia suggests an explanation for H’s introduction of ‫ נשא חטא‬into pentateuchal Priestly literature. It is possible that some H authors employed ‫ נשא חטא‬in lieu of ‫נשא עון‬ under the influence of the Babylonian ḫīṭu idiom, an idiom learned in the context of the exile. By virtue of their dating, the two occurrences of ‫נשא חטא‬ in the Hebrew Bible outside H – Ezek 23:49 and Isa 53:12 – are consistent with this conclusion.43 42 There are also Akkadian examples in which both the king and the god are named (ḫīṭu ša ili u šarri šadādu). See BEAULIEU, “New Light”, 106.

43

of ‫עון‬

Note that, alongside the one attestation of ‫ נשא חטא‬in Ezekiel, there are nine occurrences ‫( נשא‬4:4, 5, 6; 14:10; 18:19 [with ‫ ב‬preposition]; 18:20 [bis]; 44:10, 12). On the possible

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If this suggestion is correct, H’s assimilation of the ḫīṭu idiom is a case of what has been termed core borrowing. In such instances, terminology is borrowed from another language even though equivalent native terminology exists in the recipient language. Such borrowing is often motivated by prestige / “cultural pressure” and frequently occurs in situations of bilingualism,44 as existed on some level for a segment of the Judean population in Babylon.45 In the case of ‫נשא חטא‬, the proposed loan can be even more precisely categorized as a loan shift characterized by “extension” – a situation in which a lexeme takes on specialized semantic nuances under the influence of a foreign word.46 In its reflection of the ḫīṭu idiom, ‫ נשא חטא‬introduces forensic specificity and explicit correlation with the prestigious culture of a dominant polity. At a more basic level, it offers expression to the new socio-legal reality experienced and adopted by Judeans during the exile. Yet even as H’s use of ‫ נשא חטא‬sheds important light on the historical context of pentateuchal Priestly literature, its impact may have been limited outside Babylonia and beyond the Judean elite. The ‫ נשא חטא‬expression would have been easily accessible to Hebrew speakers, including those who never encountered the Babylonian ḫīṭu idiom and even those who could not understand any Akkadian. ‫ חטא‬is a native Hebrew word and cognate with ḫīṭu; it is also synonymous with ‫עון‬. Moreover, as noted already, H makes no semantic distinction between ‫ נשא חטא‬and ‫נשא עון‬. It is possible and even likely, then, that H’s use of ‫ נשא חטא‬attracted little attention among its Hebrew-speaking audience, especially outside Babylonia. Even so, if the origin for the ‫ נשא חטא‬expression suggested here has merit, this linguistic detail is significant, for it provides additional evidence for general linguistic ties between ‫ חטא‬/ ‫ נשא עון‬and its Mesopotamian parallels, see LAM, “Sin”, 213–218. For evidence of language contact in the P stratum that supports its preexilic dating, see BOYD, “Contact”, 266–284. 44

HASPELMATH, “Borrowing”, 48. Haspelmath also offers a helpful linguistic discussion of lexical borrowing more generally. Thomason and Kaufman define “cultural pressure” as “any combination of social factors that promote borrowing, e.g., prestige or economic forces that make bilingualism necessary” (Language Contact, 77). On the phenomenon of bilingualism, including its social politics, see esp. GROSJEAN, Two Languages. For application of contact linguistics to biblical Hebrew, see BOYD, “Contact”. 45 For discussion of Akkadian names employed by Judeans in Babylonia, see PEARCE, “Evidence”, 404–405. As Zadok notes, the Judeans reflected in the Babylonian sources are almost all free persons who worked in several different sectors of the economy (including agriculture, manual labour, fishing, trade and the military). Some rose to lower-level administrative positions. However, there is no evidence of Judeans entering the cuneiform scribal guild, even as they are well represented among alphabetic scribes. Some Judeans in Babylonia thus not only spoke but also wrote Aramaic, the Babylonian vernacular in the sixth and fifth centuries (ZADOK, “Judeans”, 112–116; see also PEARCE / WUNSCH, Documents, 3–9). On the persistence of Hebrew in Persian period Judah and the influence of Aramaic upon it, see POLAK, “Sociolinguistics”; BOYD, “Contact”. 46 WINFORD, Introduction, 43–45.

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223

contextualizing the pentateuchal Priestly strata that corroborates the narrative observations offered already: H reflects knowledge of the Babylonian context that P does not. What emerges, then, in P and H are two Priestly allegories, each reflecting a different historical moment. In its pre-exilic context, P’s account of Israel’s religion does not anticipate or accommodate the kind of military defeat and destruction commonly interpreted theologically as divine abandonment. Faced with precisely these realities in the destruction of Jerusalem and the Babylonian exile, H integrates them into its religious schema, including in its literary revision of P.

5. Conclusions To sum up, on the basis of both literary content and linguistic features, I would situate the composition of the two major strata of the pentateuchal Priestly source, P and H, on either side of Jerusalem’s destruction. P’s narrative, with its presentation of a fundamental connection between land and sanctuary, suggests a landed context for its authorship and audience, and its omission of any consideration of divine abandonment or exile recommends a preexilic context for its composition. H, by contrast, not only acknowledges the possibilities of divine abandonment and exile and works these ideas into the narrative and theological frameworks that it inherits from P; it also employs a specific, late Babylonian legal idiom in its supplements to P. This study thus suggests that the fall of Jerusalem had a crucial, if limited, role in the history of the Priestly contribution to the Torah.

Literature ABRAHAM, K., “The Reconstruction of Jewish Communities in the Persian Empire: The Āl-Yahūdu Clay Tablets”, in: H. Segev / A. Schor (eds.), Light and Shadows: The Story of Iran and the Jews, Tel Aviv 2011, 264–268. ALLEN, S. L., The Splintered Divine: A Study of Ištar, Baal, and Yahweh. Divine Names and Divine Multiplicity in the Ancient Near East, Boston 2015. AMIT, Y., “Creation and the Calendar of Holiness”, in: M. Cogan et al. (eds.), Tehillah leMoshe: Biblical and Judaic Studies in Honor of Moshe Greenberg, Winona Lake 1997, 13*–29*. ARNOLD, B. T., “Genesis 1 As Holiness Preamble”, in: I. Provan / M. J. Boda (eds.), Let Us Go Up to Zion: Essays in Honour of H. G. M. Williamson on the Occasion of His Sixty-Fifth Birthday (VT.S 153), Leiden 2012, 331–343. BANDSTRA, B. L., “The Syntax of Particle ‘ky’ in Biblical Hebrew and Ugaritic”, PhD. diss., Yale University 1982. BAUKS, M., “ ‘Une histoire sans fin’: L’impasse herméneutique de la notion de ‘pays’ dans l’œuvre sacerdotale (Pg). Quelques réflexions suite à la lecture d’un livre récent”, ETR 78 (2003) 255–268.

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BEAULIEU, P.-A., “New Light on Secret Knowledge in Late Babylonian Culture”, ZA 82 (1992) 98–111. BERLEJUNG, A., “Divine Presence for Everybody: Presence Theology in Everyday Life”, in: N. MacDonald / I. J. DeHulster (eds.), Divine Presence and Absence in Exilic and Post-Exilic Judaism (FAT II 61), Tübingen 2013, 67–94. BLOCK, D. I., “Divine Abandonment: Ezekiel’s Adaptation of an Ancient Near Eastern Motif”, in: M. S. Odell / J. T. Strong (eds.), Perspectives on Ezekiel: Theology and Anthropology (SBLSymp 9), Atlanta 2000, 15–42. BLUM, E., Studien zur Komposition des Pentateuch (BZAW 189), Berlin 1990. BOORER, S., “The Envisioning of the Land in the Priestly Material: Fulfilled Promise or Future Hope?”, in: T. B. Dozeman et al. (eds.), Pentateuch, Hexateuch, or Enneateuch: Identifying Literary Works in Genesis through Kings (AIL 8), Atlanta 2011, 99–125. BOYD, S. L., “Contact and Context: Studies in Language Contact and Literary Strata in the Hebrew Bible”, PhD. diss., University of Chicago 2014. BURNETT, J. S., Where Is God? Divine Absence in the Hebrew Bible, Minneapolis 2010. CHAVEL, S., Oracular Law and Priestly Historiography in the Torah (FAT II 71), Tübingen 2014. ELLIGER, K., Leviticus (HzAT 4), Tübingen 1966. FIRMAGE, E., “Genesis 1 and the Priestly Agenda”, JSOT 82 (1999) 94–114. FLETCHER, A., Allegory: The Theory of a Symbolic Mode, Princeton 2012 [1964]. FOX, M. V., “The Sign of the Covenant: Circumcision in the Light of the Priestly ’ôt Etiologies”, RB 81 (1974) 557–596. FRYE, N., Anatomy of Criticism: Four Essays, Princeton 1957. GORMAN, JR, F. H., The Ideology of Ritual: Space, Time and Status in the Priestly Theology (JSOT.S 91), Sheffield 1990. GRANT, D. E., Divine Anger in the Hebrew Bible (CBQ.MS 52), Washington 2014. GROSJEAN, F., Life with Two Languages: An Introduction to Bilingualism, Cambridge 1982. GUILLAUME, P., Land and Calendar: The Priestly Document From Genesis 1 to Joshua 18 (LHB 391), New York 2009. HARAN, M., Temples and Temple Service in Ancient Israel: An Inquiry into Biblical Cult Phenomena and the Historical Setting of the Priestly School, Winona Lake 1985. HASPELMATH, M., “Lexical Borrowing: Concepts and Issues”, in: idem / U. Tadmor (eds.), Borrowing in the World’s Languages: A Comparative Handbook, Berlin, 2009, 35–54. HUNDLEY, M., Keeping Heaven on Earth: Safeguarding the Divine Presence in the Priestly Sanctuary (FAT II 50), Tübingen 2011. JANZEN, J. G., “Kugel’s Adverbial kî ṭôb: An Appraisal”, JBL 102 (1983) 99–106. JOOSTEN, J., “Covenant Theology in the Holiness Code”, ZAR 4 (1998) 145–164. KLAWANS, J., “Pure Violence: Sacrifice and Defilement in Ancient Israel”, HTR 94 (2001) 135–157. KNOHL, I., The Sanctuary of Silence: The Priestly Torah and the Holiness School (trans. J. Feldman and P. Rodman), Minneapolis 1995. KÖCKERT, M., “Das Land in der priesterlichen Komposition des Pentateuch”, in: D. Vieweger / E. J. Waschke (eds.), Von Gott reden: Beiträge zur Theologie und Exegese des Alten Testaments. FS S. Wagner, Neukirchen-Vluyn 1995, 147–162. KRATZ, R. G. / SPIECKERMANN, H., Divine Wrath and Divine Mercy in the World of Antiquity (FAT II 33), Tübingen 2008. KUGEL, J. L., “The Adverbial Use of kî ṭôb”, JBL 99 (1980) 433–435. KUTSKO, J. F., Between Heaven and Earth: Divine Presence and Absence in the Book of Ezekiel (BJS 7), Winona Lake 2000.

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LAM, J. C. P., “The Metaphorical Patterning of the Sin-Concept in Biblical Hebrew”, PhD. diss., University of Chicago 2012. LISS, H., “The Imaginary Sanctuary: The Priestly Code as an Example of Fictional Literature in the Hebrew Bible”, in: O. Lipschits / M. Oeming (eds.), Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, Winona Lake 2006, 663–689. MACDONALD, N. / HULSTER, I. J. DE (eds.), Divine Presence and Absence in Exilic and Post-Exilic Judaism (FAT II 61), Tübingen 2013. MAGDALENE, F. R. et al., Fault, Responsibility, and Administrative Law in Late Babylonian Legal Texts (AOAT), Münster, forthcoming. MILGROM, J., “Israel’s Sanctuary: The Priestly ‘Picture of Dorian Gray’ ”, RB 83 (1976) 390–399. —, “HR in Leviticus and Elsewhere in the Torah”, in: R. Rendtorff / R. A. Kugler (eds.), The Book of Leviticus: Composition and Reception (VT.S 93), Atlanta 2003, 24–40. NIHAN, C., From Priestly Torah to Pentateuch: A Study in the Composition of the Book of Leviticus (FAT II 25), Tübingen 2007. OLYAN, S. M., Rites and Rank: Hierarchy in Biblical Representations of Cult, Princeton 2000. PEARCE, L. E., “New Evidence for Judeans in Babylonia”, in: Lipschits / Oeming (eds.), Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, 399–411. PEARCE, L. E. / WUNSCH, C., Documents of Judean Exiles and West Semites in Babylonia in the Collection of David Sofer (Cornell University Studies in Assyriology and Sumerology), Bethesda 2014. POLA, T., Die ursprüngliche Priesterschrift: Beobachtungen zur Literarkritik und Traditionsgeschichte von Pg (WMANT 70), Neukirchen-Vluyn 1995. POLAK, F. H., “Sociolinguistics and the Judean Speech Community in the Achaemenid Empire”, in: Lipschits / Oeming (eds.), Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, 589–628. QUILLIGAN, M., The Language of Allegory: Defining the Genre, Ithaca 1979. RÖMER, T. C., “Le Pentateuque toujours en question: bilan et perspective après un quart de siècle de débat”, in: A. Lemaire (ed.), Congress Volume Basel 2001 (VT.S 92), Leiden 2002, 343–374. ROSENBERG, J., King and Kin: Political Allegory in the Hebrew Bible (ISBL), Bloomington 1986. SCHIPPER, J. / STACKERT, J., “Blemishes, Camouflage, and Sanctuary Service: The Priestly Deity and His Attendants”, HeBAI 2 (2013) 458–478. SCHMID, K., “Judean Identity and Ecumenicity: The Political Theology of the Priestly Document”, in: M. Oeming et al. (eds.), Judah and the Judeans in the Achaemenid Period: Negotiating Identity in an International Context, Winona Lake 2011, 3–26. —, “The Quest for ‘God’: Monotheistic Arguments in the Priestly Texts of the Hebrew Bible”, in: B. Pongratz-Leisten (ed.), Reconsidering the Concept of Revolutionary Monotheism, Winona Lake 2011, 271–289. SCHWARTZ, B. J., “The Bearing of Sin in the Priestly Literature”, in: D. P. Wright et al. (eds.), Pomegranates and Golden Bells: Studies in Biblical, Jewish, and Near Eastern Ritual, Law, and Literature in Honor of Jacob Milgrom, Winona Lake 1995, 3–21. —, The Holiness Legislation: Studies in the Priestly Code, Jerusalem 1999 (Hebrew). —, “The Flood Narratives in the Torah and the Question of Where History Begins”, in: M. Bar Asher et al. (eds.), Shai le-Sara Japhet: Studies in the Bible, Its Exegesis and Its Language, Jerusalem 2007, 139–154 (in Hebrew). SKA, J.-L., “Le récit sacerdotal: Une ‘histoire sans fin’?”, in: T. Römer (ed.), The Books of Leviticus and Numbers (BETL 215), Leuven 2008, 631–653. SMITH, M. S., “Like Deities, Like Temples (Like People)”, in: J. Day (ed.), Temple and Worship in Biblical Israel (LHB 422), London 2005, 3–27.

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SOMMER, B. D., The Bodies of God and the World of Ancient Israel, New York 2009. —, “Dating Pentateuchal Texts and the Perils of Pseudo-Historicism”, in: T. B. Dozeman et al. (eds.), The Pentateuch: International Perspectives on Current Research (FAT 78), Tübingen 2011, 85–108. STACKERT, J., “The Holiness Legislation and Its Pentateuchal Sources: Revision, Supplementation, and Replacement”, in: S. Shectman / J. S. Baden (eds.), The Strata of the Priestly Writings: Contemporary Debate and Future Directions (AThANT 95), Zürich 2009, 187–204. —, “Distinguishing Innerbiblical Exegesis from Pentateuchal Redaction: Leviticus 26 as a Test Case”, in: T. B. Dozeman et al. (eds.), The Pentateuch: International Perspectives on Current Research (FAT 78), Tübingen 2011, 369–386. —, “Why Does the Plague of Darkness Last for Three Days? Source Ascription and Literary Motif in Exodus 10:21–23, 27”, VT 61 (2011) 657–676. —, “How the Priestly Sabbaths Work: Innovation in Pentateuchal Priestly Ritual”, in: N. MacDonald (ed.), Ritual Innovation in the Hebrew Bible and Early Judaism (BZAW 468), Berlin 2016, forthcoming. STERNBERG, M., The Poetics of Biblical Narrative: Ideological Literature and the Drama of Reading, Bloomington 1985. THOMASON, S. G. / KAUFMAN, T., Language Contact, Creolization and Genetic Linguistics, Berkeley 1988. WATTS, J. W., Ritual and Rhetoric in Leviticus: From Sacrifice to Scripture, Cambridge 2007. WELLS, B., “Liability in the Priestly Texts of the Hebrew Bible”, Sapientia Logos 5 (2012) 1–31. WHITE, H. V., Metahistory: The Historical Imagination in Nineteenth-Century Europe, Baltimore 1973. WINFORD, D., An Introduction to Contact Linguistics (Language in Society 33), Malden, Ma 2003. WUNSCH, C., Judeans by the Waters of Babylon: New Historical Evidence in Cuneiform Sources from Rural Babylonia in the Schoyen Collection (BaAr 6), Dresden, forthcoming. ZADOK, R., “Judeans in Babylonia – Updating the Dossier”, in: U. Gabbay. / S. Secunda (eds.), Encounters by the Rivers of Babylon: Scholarly Conversations Between Jews, Iranians and Babylonians in Antiquity (TSAJ 160), Tübingen 2014, 109–129.

The Wilderness Sanctuary as the Archetype of Continuity between the Pre- and the Postexilic Temples of Jerusalem Dominik Markl The sheer splendour of the wilderness sanctuary, the many tons of gold, silver and wood, and the precious cloth that Israel purportedly used to construct it at Mount Sinai (Exod 25; 35), made critics doubt the sanctuary’s historicity as early as the beginning of the nineteenth century.1 Today, the great majority of scholars are d’accord that the sanctuary is symbolic,2 idealized or utopian rather than historical.3 Its origin and function, however, have been disputed. Are the descriptions of the sanctuary a preexilic “result of converging streams of tradition that included the physical experience … of the post-Ahaz temple of Jerusalem”, as Cory D. Crawford recently argued? 4 Are they a reaction to the loss of the temple and an expression of “how the Priestly writers realized their claims for a new social relationship among the exiles in Babylon”, as Mark K. George claims?5 Or are they rather a postexilic “copy … of the temple at Jerusalem”, as Julius Wellhausen classically assumed?6 1 VATER, Commentar, 658–659 (1805); DE WETTE, Beiträge, vol. 1, 258–261, vol. 2, 259–262 (1806). Besides my co-editors, I thank Norbert Lohfink and Herbert Niehr for valuable comments on this manuscript. 2 On the sanctuary’s symbolism see JACOB, Exodus, 855–922; CHILDS, Exodus, 537–539; JENSON, Holiness, 111–114; FISCHER / MARKL, Exodus, 277–284. 3 The only recent exception is, to my knowledge, HOMAN, Tents. According to this position, P, dated to the seventh century BCE (133), is “acting as a responsible historian. Far from inventing the structure, he is using written texts, composed several centuries earlier, which record in detail an elaborate tent shrine. P’s source would be records describing an actual structure dating to the Late Bronze II/Iron I” (134) As Homan indicates, this view is strongly informed by CROSS, “Tabernacle” (1947). 4 CRAWFORD, “Shadow”, 130. A generally pre-exilic date is also proposed, e. g., by KNOHL, Sanctuary, who attributes portions of the tabernacle texts to the “Priestly Torah” (which he dates “between the mid-tenth century BCE and the mid-eighth century BCE”, ibid., 229), while allowing for later additions by the “Holiness School”, whose work “was apparently accomplished during the Babylonian exile or during the period of the return to Zion” (ibid., 224). For Propp, “P makes the most sense as a protest against the Temple hierocracy”, being “implicitly antimonarchical ... and anti-Temple” from the “late monarchic period, attaining their final form in the exile or early restoration” (Exodus 19–40, 732). A pre-exilic date for the sanctuary texts is considered possible by LISS, “Sanctuary”, esp. 688–689. 5 GEORGE, Tabernacle, 44. For a similar position see BARK, Heiligtum, 121–122. 6 WELLHAUSEN, Prolegomena, 37 (and 38). For a helpful review of diverse positions see UTZSCHNEIDER, Heiligtum, 55–70; idem, “Tabernacle”; HOUTMAN, Exodus, 325–332; for

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I shall argue here that one of the central purposes of the sanctuary texts in their latest stages7 is to create continuity between the cults of the pre- and the postexilic temples of Jerusalem. The argument will be introduced by brief expositions of examples of the construction of cultic continuity both in extra-biblical and biblical texts. I will then focus on the historical role of two central objects from the sanctuary – the ark and the menorah.8 The contradictory result of this analysis will lead to a historical reconstruction that, finally, is to be evaluated with regard to its implications for the Torah’s rise after the fall of Jerusalem.

1. Cultic Continuity: Some Extra-Biblical Evidence Before entering into my central argument, I shall justify an assumption that could – but maybe should not – be taken for granted: that cultic continuity was often expressed in the ancient world through continuity in the measurements of the architecture and the paraphernalia of temples that were held (or claimed) to be of divine origin. While I shall go on to explore biblical evidence, this will be contextualized here by extra-biblical examples. I will limit myself to quoting from two texts from the Neo-Babylonian period and Hellenistic Judaism that may well have historical affinities to cultic attitudes found in the Pentateuch: the Sippar Cylinder of Nabonidus and the Letter of Aristeas. In the background to Ancient Near Eastern attitudes towards temple architecture lies an assumption that Claus Ambos summarizes as follows: “As the gods themselves had built their original temples … the (re)construction of a sanctuary was merely the restoration of a primeval structure created in a mythical age”.9 earlier research on the sanctuary see the overview in CHILDS, Exodus, 529–537 and 547– 550, and, e.g., SCHMITT, Zelt (1972); GÖRG, Zelt (1967). For the discussion on the date of “P” see esp. ZENGER, Einleitung, 189–214; OTTO, “Forschungen”. 7 Although the textual witnesses (esp. MT and LXX) differ strongly, which implies a great many difficulties reconstructing their history, my main argument will not be compromised by these issues. On the textual questions see esp. WADE, Consistency (2003); WEVERS, History, 117–146 (1992; systematically on Exod 35–40); idem, Notes, 391–516, 574–652 (1990); LE BOULLUEC / SANDEVOIR, Exode, 61–69, 250–317, 346–378 (1989); GOODING, Account (1959); POPPER, Bericht (1862). 8 Since the argument will involve both the analysis of historiography as presented in biblical texts and the reconstruction of historical processes, I request readers to follow me closely when I shift between these factually connected but methodologically distinct modes of proceeding. 9 AMBOS, “Rituale”, 19. Evidence for this idea is found in prayers recited in connection with the construction of temples (cf. ibid., 22; MAYER, “Rituale”, 438–443; AMBOS, Baurituale, 193–195) and in building accounts such as the cylinder inscriptions of Gudea of Lagash; for examples see HUROWITZ, House (on Gudea esp. 38–40). VAN SETERS, “Fact and Ideology”, 51, considered the possibility that the Esagila Table, which gives various measurements relating to Etemenanki in Babylon (for the text see UNGER, Babylon, 237–249), “may reflect a priestly concern for continuity in the frequent restorations of Marduk’s temple”. MONTERO FENOLLÓS, “Ziggurat”, esp. 128–134, however, has argued that the hight of 90

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It was common, therefore, for Babylonian kings to dig for the original foundations of a temple before reconstructing it.10 This was not merely an act of piety; harming the original divine design of the temple was considered dangerous. It could arouse the god’s wrath, which might lead to the temple’s collapse or some other mishap.11 A particularly meticulous researcher of the original foundations of temples was Nabonidus, the last king of the Neo-Babylonian empire (r. 555–539 BCE). Or at least his scribes were eager to emphasize this, so that he has become an “archaeologist on the royal throne” in the eyes of modern scholars.12 This topos should legitimize him – notwithstanding, or precisely because of, his radical religious reforms13 – as a “restorer of order”.14 In the Sippar cylinder,15 Nabonidus accuses Nebuchadnezzar of not having discovered the original foundations of Ebabbar, the temple of Šamaš in Sippar, before its restoration, so that it was damaged after only 45 years.16 Being greatly disturbed, Nabonidus “dug to a depth of eighteen cubits” to find the foundation of Narām-Sîn, “three thousand and two hundred years” old, and rebuilt the temple “not a finger’s breadth too wide or too narrow”,17 so that he could lead Šamaš to his house “in joy and gladness”.18 The precise adherence to original measurements was an issue, it seems, that could decide between the wrath or joy of a deity.19 metres indicated in the Esagila Table cannot correspond to architectural reality. According to this interpretation, the table rather serves mathematical purposes (ibid., 129). 10 On the “literary motif of ‘checking the foundation’ (temenna ḫâṭu)” see SCHAUDIG, “Restoration”, 147–149; NOVOTNY, “Temple”, 117; for a concise overview on the reconstruction of temples in the ancient Near East see DUBOVSKÝ, Building, 10–28. 11 Cf. AMBOS, “Rituale”, 23–24. Šuma-iddina, governor of Nippur, was even accused of having deliberately made architectural changes to a sanctuary with the intention of bringing misfortune on King Esarhaddon (ibid., 19–20). If a king chose to change the ground plan of a temple, specific divine legitimation needed to be adduced; cf. DUBOVSKÝ, Building, 11; AMBOS, “Rituale”, 25 (referring to Tukultī-Ninurta I’s restoration of the temple of Ištar). 12 Cf. SCHAUDIG, “Nabonid”, 447–448. 13 For a succinct summary see MACHINIST, “Imperialism”, 247–249. 14 SCHAUDIG, “Nabonid”, 491; cf. LIVERANI, “Memorandum”, 186–188. 15 The text is to be dated “after year 13, probably year 16” of Nabonidus’ reign: BEAULIEU, Nabonidus, 42 (compare ibid., 34). The many copies of the cylinder found in Sippar may indicate that it was meant to be distributed to other archives: SCHAUDIG, Inschriften, 415. This seems to evidence the importance attributed to the text in its purpose of serving royal propaganda. 16 Cf. AMBOS, “Rituale”, 23. 17 On the development of this motif see SCHAUDIG, “Restoration”, 149–150: “There are a few interesting texts that give every cubit, brick, and nearly every inch of the layout of the temples in Babylon and these compositions are certainly also to be seen in this context”. 18 Quoted after Beaulieu’s translation in COS 2:312. For the text see SCHAUDIG, Inschriften, 2.12 1 II 47–III 7. 19 Legitimizing (even new) temples and rituals in terms of ancient traditions was very common in Babylonia, while Assyrian kings sometimes claimed to have founded new temples; cf. SCHAUDIG, “Cult”, esp. 150–152.

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Nabonidus’ royal ideologies may have been observed by Judean exiles in Babylonia before their return to Jerusalem. When they rebuilt the temple and restored its paraphernalia, they did concern themselves with architecture, measurements and their theological justification. Interestingly enough, the concern for continuity seems to be attributed to Persian temple restoration policy in the “Cyrus decree” of Ezra 6:3: “Let the house be rebuilt on the place [‫ ]אתר‬where they used to offer sacrifices and let its foundations be retained [‫”]ואשוהי מסובלין‬.20 A late, extra-biblical witness to this concern from the realm of Hellenistic Judaism is found in the Letter of Aristeas (Let. Aris.), which is most commonly dated to the second half of the second century BCE.21 Having related Ptolemy’s request for translators of the Hebrew Law (Let. Aris., 34–40) and the High Priest Eleazar’s response (41–50), Aristeas portrays Ptolemy as making donations to the temple of Jerusalem (51–82). Driven by a strong impulse to show generosity, the king first intends to send a table five times larger than the previous one (52–53). Having conducted serious inquiries, however, and wishing for the table to serve the purposes of the cult, he finally decides that “the correct measure must neither be deviated from nor surpassed …. Where there were written prescriptions their measurements were to be adhered to” (55–56).22 Consequently, the dimensions and materials of the table are described, employing paraphrases from the instructions given in the Law: δύο γὰρπήχεων τὸ μῆκος τὸ δὲὕψος πήχεος καὶ ἡμίσους, “two cubits in length and a cubit and a half in height” (57, cf. LXX Exod 25:23).23 Miming the words of an Egyptian king, the Letter of Aristeas bears witness to the author’s genuinely Jewish concern. The cult in Jerusalem was to embody the divine prescriptions found in the Pentateuch. 20

Translation of WILLIAMSON, Ezra, 68; cf. notes ibid., 71. Another passage that contains the idea of the continuity of measurements is the restoration of the temple under Joash in 2 Chr 24:13: “They restored the house of God to its original design [‫”]מתכנתו‬, more literally, “according to the appropriate measurement”. Cf. KLEIN, 2 Chronicles, 343. 21 Cf., e.g., BICKERMAN, “Datierung”; HADAS, Aristeas, 3–54; SCHIMANOWSKI, Juden, 30. The implied author, both a committed Jew and immersed in the Hellenistic culture of Alexandria, is a “citizen of two worlds”: TCHERIKOVER, “Ideology”, 84; HONIGMANN, Septuagint, 145–148. HACHAM, “Letter”, 2: “The core of the ideology is easily discernible: a combination of total loyalty to Judaism and deep and active involvement with the Hellenistic world and culture”. 22 Translation from HADAS, Aristeas, 123. The precision by which the instructions are to be followed actually evokes the canon formula (Deut 4:2) and mirrors the precision with which the translation is made (Let. Aris., 310): KOVELMAN, Alexandria, 117–118. 23 See the analysis by MEECHAM, Letter, 316–317; KOVELMAN, Alexandria, 117–118. According to LXX, the table is to be made out of pure gold; while according to MT it was to be made of acacia wood and overlaid with gold. This could be an indication that LXX “corrected” the Hebrew text, adjusting it to the reality of the Hellenistic table, perhaps the one restored under Judas Maccabeus (1 Macc 4:49), which may have replaced a simpler version from the Persian period. If this is the case, the text of LXX in itself would provide an example of the importance of the correspondence between divine instruction and cultic reality.

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These two examples from the Neo-Babylonian and the Hellenistic Jewish worlds show that whoever was engaging in the construction of temples and cultic objects in the ancient Near East was confronted with delicate questions concerning the theological justification of his design. On what basis could one be sure that the house and objects made for a deity were pleasing to that deity? The need for the justification of continuity and adherence to divine designs evident in these texts may help us understand biblical treatments of sanctuaries and their paraphernalia, on which we shall now focus our interest.

2. Constructions of Cultic Continuity in Biblical Historiography Moving the focus to the Hebrew Bible, I shall now look at how cultic continuity is construed in historiographical texts, concentrating on two major transitions, from the wilderness sanctuary to Solomon’s temple and from the pre- to the postexilic temple. 2.1 Continuity between the Wilderness Sanctuary and Solomon’s Temple (1 Kgs 8:1–11) The construction of the temple in Jerusalem having been completed (1 Kgs 6–7), its dedication (1 Kgs 8) is introduced by a series of events (vv. 1–11) which connect Solomon’s temple with the establishment of the cult at Sinai / Horeb, as narrated in the Pentateuch. The central subject of the passage is the transport of the ark, which is introduced as the purpose of the assembly (v. 1); the ark is brought to the temple (vv. 3–4), honoured by sacrifices (v. 5) and moved to its place in the Holy of Holies (v. 6), where its appearance (vv. 7–8) and content (v. 9) are contemplated.24 Read against the background of the Pentateuch and the narratives of Joshua to Kings, the transfer of the ark connects Solomon’s temple with the introduction of the ark at Mount Sinai (Exod 25), mediated though a narrative thread created by the repeated reference to its movement.25 While the transfer of the ark is an event that readers may expect, more surprisingly, further objects are mentioned: “They brought up the ark of YHWH, and the tent of meeting, and all the vessels of the sanctuary that were in the tent” (1 Kgs 8:4). The reference to the tent may be surprising26 because it had not appeared on the stage of the narrative 24 “Ark” is the Leitwort of the passage, with eight occurrences in 1 Kgs 8:1–9. It is introduced most solemnly as the “ark of the covenant of YHWH”, and this solemn expression is also used at the climax of its transport into the Holy of Holies (v. 6; cf. the preparation in 6:19). Otherwise it is simply called “the ark” (vv. 3, 5, 7, 9) or “the ark of YHWH” (v. 4). 25 Cf. e.g. Num 10:33, 35; Josh 3–4; 6; 1 Sam 4–6; 2 Sam 6; 15. While Deuteronomy introduces the Levites as the carriers of the ark (10:8; 31:9, 25), the theme of carrying the ark appears in the sanctuary texts in the motif of the poles (Exod 25:14; 37:5). 26 FRIEDMAN, “Tabernacle”, esp. 295, is unusual in considering the placement of the tabernacle in the Solomonic temple historically possible.

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since 1 Sam 2:22 in Shiloh.27 Since then, the ark had seemed to be travelling alone and, according to 2 Sam 6:3, it had not been kept in the tent, but in the house of Abinadab. Even more surprising may be the appearance of the vessels, which have not shown up since the book of Numbers (18:3; 31:6). Still more so, since the account of the construction of the temple had specified in great detail how Hiram and Solomon made “all the vessels” for the temple (1 Kgs 7:40, 45, 48, 50).28 This seems to suggest that a double set of cultic vessels are provided for the temple – the ones freshly produced by Hiram, and the others from the tent of meeting, produced by Bezalel and his helpers at Mount Sinai.29 This may raise suspicion. Was the account of the construction of the temple only secondarily, redactionally connected with the tent of meeting and its vessels from Mount Sinai?30 Some motifs connect the transfer of the ark specifically with priestly texts, especially the “Holy of Holies” (v. 6)31 and the “poles” of the “ark” (vv. 7–8).32 Most prominently, the sanctuary texts provide the only explanation for the curious fact that the poles are not removed from the ark after its final transport, and for why so much attention is paid to their presence.33 27 This tension was smoothed out by the Chronicler, who introduced the tent at an earlier point: 2 Chr 1:3–13, which strengthens the analogy between the tent of the meeting and Solomon’s temple: “Die beim Zelt der Begegnung in Gibeon, der bisherigen Wohnung Jahwes, empfangene Weisheit erlaubt ... den Bau des Zedernhauses für Jahwe und seinen Namen in Jerusalem” (MOSIS, Untersuchungen, 135). On further aspects see also KLEIN, 2 Chronicles, 22; JAPHET, Chronicles, 526–527. 28 Cf. especially 1 Kgs 7:48: “all the vessels that [belong to] the house of YHWH”: ‫כל הכלים‬ ‫אשר בית יהוה‬. 29 COGAN, I Kings, 279: “Rabbinic tradition spoke of their being stored away (b. Soṭah 9a), and this was a reasonable surmise, since these vessels comprised an almost duplicate set”. As MULDER, 1 Kings, 385, notes, Josephus (Ant. VIII 4.1 [104]) expands on the narrative of 1 Kgs 8 by claiming that the priests “set the lampstand, the table, and the golden altar in the sanctuary in front of the adytum, in the same positions they had occupied when they were situated in the tent” (JOSEPHUS, Antiquities 8–10, 29). Josephus seems to follow the Chronicler’s tendency to combine Solomon’s temple account with Moses’ sanctuary, while he might, at the same time, be alluding to the Herodianic temple. 30 NOTH, Könige, 177: “Die Erwähnung des ‘Begegnungszeltes’ und der ‘heiligen Geräte’ in 4aβ ist schon nach der Formulierung ein offensichtlicher Zusatz im Sinne von P, mit dem die Kontinuität zum Wüstenheiligtum der Mosezeit hergestellt werden soll.” Cf. COGAN, I Kings, 291; DEVRIES, 1 Kings, 124. 31 The combination of “Holy of Holies” (‫ )קדש הקדשים‬and “ark” (‫ )ארון‬connects Exod 26:33–34; 1 Kgs 8:6 // 2 Chr 5:7 exclusively. In addition to these texts, the “Holy of Holies” (referring to the innermost sanctum) occurs in Num 4:4, 19; 1 Kgs 6:16; 7:50; 1 Chr 6:34; 2 Chr 3:8, 10; 4:22; Ezek 41:4. DUBOVSKÝ, Building, 117, considers the use of the expression in 1 Kgs 6–8 a redactional link with the tabernacle texts; cf. GRAY, Kings, 209: “a late gloss of the P redactor”. On the role of the Holy of Holies in the sanctuary’s “graded holiness” see HUNDLEY, “Spaces”. 32 The “poles” (‫ )בדים‬of the “ark” (‫ )ארון‬are referred to, besides 1 Kgs 8:7–8 // 2 Chr 5:8–9, exclusively in the sanctuary texts of the book of Exodus: 25:14–15; 35:12; 37:5; 39:35; 40:20. 33 GRAY, Kings, 210: “The note on the projection of the staves left in the ark seems to be influenced by the priestly direction in Ex. 25.15”.

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Exod 25:14–15: “And you shall put the poles into the rings on the sides of the ark, by which to carry the ark. The poles shall remain in the rings of the ark; they shall not be taken from it.” 1 Kgs 8:7–8: “And the cherubim made a covering above the ark and its poles. The poles were so long that the ends of the poles were seen from the holy place in front of the inner sanctuary; but they could not be seen from outside; they are there to this day.”34

Some other motifs, however, are specifically reminiscent of Deuteronomistic language;35 especially the reference to Moses’ placing the “tablets” into the “ark” “at Horeb” (v. 9), which creates a strong link with the scene as related by Moses in Deuteronomy:36 Deut 10:5 “And I turned and came down from the mountain, and put the tablets in the ark … ” 1 Kgs 8:9 “There was nothing in the ark except the two tablets of stone that Moses had placed there at Horeb.”37

The transfer of the ark is finally concluded by a theophany scene, which is most closely related to the priestly scene of the fulfilment of the tabernacle with the glory of God:38 34

The final words “to this day” are curious indeed, and explanations of them are extremely diverse. CHILDS, “Formula”, 292, suggests that the formula was derived from the “Book of the Acts of Solomon”. NOTH, Könige, 180, tries to argue that the expression refers to the narrated time and not to the time of the narrator (but he refers to Josh 4:9, which he seems to consider contradicting his own theory). SCHENKER, “Ark”, esp. 108-–109, holds that the formula was first introduced by the Chronicler. Since it is not the task of the present paper to solve the riddle, it may suffice to note that the formula in any case emphasizes the correspondence between the instruction of Exod 25 and the cultic practice in Solomon’s temple. 35 NOTH, Könige, 174, considers the expression ‫ ארון ברית יהוה‬an “unequivocal trace of deuteronomistic work”. 36 The combination of the terms “tablets” (‫ )לחות‬and “ark” (‫ )ארון‬occurs, besides 1 Kgs 8:9 // 2 Chr 5:10 exclusively in Deut 10:1–3, 5. The sanctuary texts refer to the “testimony” (‫)עדת‬ that Moses put into the ark (Exod 40:20). Moreover, the expression “at Horeb” (‫ )בחרב‬echoes the introduction of the Mosaic account of these Horeb events in Deut 9:8. And finally, the precise expression “the two tablets of stone” with the article (‫ )שני לחות האבנים‬occurs, besides 1 Kgs 8:9, exclusively in Deut 9:10–11. The same expression, without the article, occurs in Exod 34:1, 4; Deut 4:13; 5:22; 10:1–3. On the narrative connection see also SONNET, Book, esp. 67. One could further add that the relative clause at the end of 1 Kgs 8:9 is strongly reminiscent of Deut 29:24: ‫אשר כרת עמם‬ Deut 29:24 ‫בהוציאו אתם מארץ מצרים‬ ‫אשר כרת עם בני ישראל בצאתם‬ 1 Kgs 8:9 ‫מארץ מצרים‬ 37 In the new context, the tablets may acquire a new symbolism as the (otherwise missing) foundation stone of Solomon’s temple; cf. SONNET, “Salomon”, 131. 38 The two passages are connected by a cluster of motifs: “the cloud” (‫ ;)הענן‬the “glory of YHWH” (‫ ;)כבוד יהוה‬the “filling” (‫ )מלא‬of the sanctuary and the inability (‫ ולא יכל‬/ ‫ )ולא יכלו‬of ministers to enter the sanctuary. Moreover, the “dwelling” (‫ )שכן‬of the cloud (Exod 40:35) is paralleled by God’s dwelling in 1 Kgs 8:12. On the contexts and development of the motif of the divine shekinah see JANOWSKI, “Einwohnung”.

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Exod 40:34–35

1 Kgs 8:10–11

And the cloud covered the tent of meeting, and the GLORY OF YHWH filled the tabernacle. And Moses was not able to enter the tent of meeting for [‫ ]כי‬the cloud settled upon it, and the GLORY OF YHWH filled the tabernacle.

When the priests came out of the sanctuary, the cloud filled the house of YHWH, and the priests were not able to attend to minister because of the cloud; for [‫ ]כי‬the GLORY OF YHWH filled the house of YHWH.

Reading 1 Kgs 8:1–11, one might have the impression of hearing a Deuteronomistic and a priestly voice narrating this passage together, complementing each other.39 This may well be the result of redactional processes. The function of both voices, however, is unequivocal. All these connections show a concerted effort to portray the inauguration of the Solomonic temple as both the continuation and re-institution of the divine presence as it was initiated at Sinai / Horeb during the very foundation of Israel. Various techniques are employed to imply this continuity. Cultic objects such as the ark, the tent and its vessels play a key role, but intertextual resemblances such as those between the theophany scenes leave no doubt for readers who perceive the macro-narrative that Zion is now becoming a new Sinai. 2.2 Continuity between the Pre- and the Postexilic Temples: The Vessels A similar concern for cultic continuity, mediated through temple vessels, is seen in texts that explicitly engage with the restoration of the cult in Jerusalem after the Babylonian exile. Peter Ackroyd was the first to analyse the temple vessels as “a continuity theme”, and the respective texts have received further attention.40 It may suffice here, therefore, to summarize some essential observations. While the end of the Deuteronomistic version of history emphasizes the partial destruction and complete loss of the temple vessels as Babylonian booty (2 Kgs 24:13; 25:13–17, elaborated in even greater detail in Jer 52:17–23),41 the end of Chronicles draws a less disruptive picture, the purpose of which is seen at the beginning of Ezra. According to Chronicles, some of the vessels were taken to Babylon under Jehoiakim and prominently placed in Nebuchadnezzar’s 39

Compare NOTH, Könige, 174, according to whom it is “kaum noch möglich, diese verschiedenen Schichten sauber von einander zu trennen”. COGAN, I Kings, 291: “Considering that the inauguration of the temple was a foundational moment in the history of the Israelite cult, it is not surprising to find that several traditions converge at this juncture”. 40 Cf. ACKROYD, “Vessels”; KALIMI / PURVIS, “Jehoiachin”; WEITZMAN, Surviving, esp. 13–25. 41 For an analysis see FISCHER, Jeremia 26–52, 647–650; and for a systematic analysis of the versions idem, Stand, 29–31.

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“temple” (‫היכל‬, 2 Chr 36:7).42 Then, vessels were taken away under his son Jehoiachin (v. 10)43 and finally, under Zedekiah, “all the vessels of the house of God, large and small” (v. 18) were brought to Babylon. According to the Chronicler, not a single vessel was destroyed! This is the literary prerequisite for their splendid restoration under King Cyrus:44 “King Cyrus brought out the vessels of the house of YHWH that Nebuchadnezzar had carried away from Jerusalem and placed in the house of his gods .… The total of the gold and silver vessels was five thousand four hundred” (Ezra 1:7–11; cf. 6:5).45 This historiographical conception of the Chronicler is given a dramatic prophetic background in the book of Jeremiah (MT). Both of the two relevant prophecies (Jer 27:16–22; 28:1–9) are located at the beginning of the reign of Zedekiah (27:1; 28:1). We shall here concentrate on the first and longer prophecy.46 Jeremiah first rejects the opinion of false prophets who announce that the vessels taken away with the first deportation will soon be returned (27:16–17). He rather advises them to pray for the remaining vessels not to be taken away (v. 18), for YHWH declares that they will be taken to Babylon (vv. 19–22), “and there they shall stay, until the day when I give attention to them, says YHWH. Then I will bring them up and restore them to this place.” 47 This final note of hope may well be the prophecy whose fulfilment the Chronicler was seeking to portray,48 since he presents Jeremiah as the authoritative prophet in regard to the Babylonian exile (2 Chr 36:22). 42

‫ היכל‬most probably refers to a temple rather than to a palace in 2 Chr 36:7, since Chronicles frequently uses the term to refer to the temple of YHWH (e.g. 2 Chr 26:16; 27:2; 29:16). Accordingly, the expression ‫ היכלא די בירושלם‬is used parallel to ‫ היכלא די בבל‬in Ezra 5:14: “the gold and silver vessels of the house of God, which Nebuchadnezzar had taken out of the temple in Jerusalem and had brought into the temple of Babylon”. Therefore, these expressions are in accordance with Ezra 1:7 (‫בבית אלהיו‬, “in the house of his gods”). Historically, it is likely that booty was brought to temples in Babylon, especially to Esagila, as attested in Nebuchadnezzar’s inscriptions; cf. FRIED, “Temple”, 320. 43 This idea seems to depend on Jer 27:20; 28:3–4: KALIMI / PURVIS, “Jehoiachin”, 453. 44 Cf. ACKROYD, “Vessels”, 177–179; KALIMI / PURVIS, “Jehoiachin”, 455; KLEIN, 2 Chronicles, 543. On the symbolic meaning of the vessels see BECKING, “Witness”, esp. 273–276. 45 If any such restoration ever happened, this figure attracts suspicion of being exaggerated. The Cyrus Cylinder is evidence that the restoration of deities to their temples was early Persian state ideology: “I made the gods, who had dwelled therein return to their places” (translation according to VAN DER SPEK, “Cyrus”, 263; for the text see SCHAUDIG, Inschriften, K2.1 32). Texts such as this “make clear that the god’s return is an absolutely necessary precondition for rebuilding a sanctuary devastated by foreign conquest” (FRIED, “Temple”, 323). A symbolic restoration of cultic vessels should thus not be considered historically impossible. For a quite confident view see ALBERTZ, Israel, 123. 46 Jer 28:1–9 is a more concrete repetition of Jeremiah’s opposition to the false prophecy already contradicted in 27:16–17, dramatized in Jeremiah’s confrontation with Hananiah. 47 The parallel text in LXX Jer 34:13–18 is much shorter and does not contain any prospect of the vessels being returned. 48 Cf. KALIMI / PURVIS, “Jehoiachin”, 454–455.

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The historicity of many aspects of events described in these texts relating to the temple vessels is highly doubtful. What we can gather from these observations, though, without any doubt, is the significance that was attributed to their restoration. They are supposed to be material remnants of the preexilic cult, and their restoration – even if only a literary one – creates continuity between the pre- and the post-exilic cults.49 The Chronicler – the most systematic among the creators of continuity – seems even to bring the postexilic cult into continuity with the pre-Salomonic cult, right back to its original, Mosaic institution.50

3. The Sanctuary’s Ark and Menorah: Historical Evidence? Having found ample evidence of cultic objects serving as guarantors of continuity in the historiographical works of the Hebrew Bible, it might be worth considering the function of the divinely inspired archetype of the cult found in the sanctuary texts of the book of Exodus. Did these texts intend to legitimate the divine origin of the historical objects of the cult in Jerusalem? The following analysis will focus on two central objects from the wilderness sanctuary, which will produce surprisingly different results with regard to their potential historical reality.51 3.1 The Ark: Historical Reality in the Preexilic Temple Within Israel’s grand narrative, the ark is introduced by the divine voice on Mount Sinai (Exod 25:10–22). The ark accompanies Israel as a leitmotif on its journey to the Promised Land until it is brought into Solomon’s temple (1 Kgs 8:1–9, 21), where it is mentioned for the last time in Kings;52 and it remains conspicuously unmentioned in the account of the temple’s destruction (2 Kgs 25). The ark’s disappearance from the scene of Israel’s history has sparked 49 This is just one detail of the great project discernable in Chronicles: to situate the origins of the cult of the Second Temple in the history of the First. 50 ACKROYD, “Vessels”, 180: “The Chronicler indeed utilises the temple vessels theme as one of those by which ... he endeavours to establish the reality of the link between his contemporaries and the original establishment; and by implication and sometimes by statement right back before that to the Exodus period”. This point is corroborated by the fact that the Chronicler shapes the account of the construction of Solomon’s temple in great proximity to the wilderness sanctuary: VAN SETERS, “Account”; MOSIS, Untersuchungen, 136–150; for a summary see KLEIN, 2 Chronicles, 44; on further aspects of the Chronicler’s “recapitulative historiography” see BODA, “Legitimizing”, 316–318. 51 A preliminary version of the following considerations has been presented in MARKL, “Funktion”, 73–78. 52 The Chronicler makes the motif reappear once more in Josiah’s speech at the passover (2 Chr 35:3). The Chronicler’s great interest in the ark inspired BEGG, “Ark”, to ask if the Chronicler might have hoped for its restoration (esp. 142–145).

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numerous accounts of its fate, which attest to the great interest in the ark and the abundance of creativity employed to explain its mystery.53 Was there really an ark in the temple of Jerusalem? Three observations suggest that an ark did in fact exist for some time in the preexilic temple. First, the many references to the ark (about 200) in a great variety of contexts and traditions are not likely all to be based on fiction.54 Second, the evidence of chest sanctuaries in the cultural environment of ancient Israel renders the cultic function of an ark plausible in the context of the preexilic temple.55 Third, Jeremiah expresses conflicting views regarding the ark: after the return to Zion, “says YHWH, they shall no longer say, ‘The ark of the covenant of YHWH’. It shall not come to mind, or be remembered, or missed; nor shall another one be made.” (Jer 3:16) The passage both expresses a strongly negative attitude to the ark and attests to its value to some. It seems unlikely that such conflicting attitudes should be constructed regarding a merely fictional literary motif; Jer 3:16 most probably reflects a historical conflict about the potential restoration of a real, lost cultic object. In accordance with these observations, it is commonly held that an ark existed in the preexilic temple.56 It is impossible to reconstruct with certainty how the ark disappeared from the temple, but one may reasonably assume, with the majority of scholars, that the ark was either destroyed during the Babylonian demolition of the temple or had already been removed at some earlier time.57 After the loss, the radical change of attitude towards the ark and the deliberate decision not to renew it expressed in Jer 3:16 are also likely to reflect historical reality, since the ark indeed seems not to have been restored. There is no single reference to it in any text that relates to the postexilic temple. It is not mentioned among the cultic objects that were purportedly restored to Jerusalem (Ezra 1:7–11). The Holy of Holies, according to our sources on the late postexilic temple, was empty.58 What, however, was the reason why the ark, despite its prominent role, was not restored in the postexilic temple? It seems plausible that the cherubim connected with the ark transgressed against the prohibition of images that became increasingly important during the Exile, so that an ark protected by cherubim became undesirable for the rebuilt temple.59 Whatever the reasons for it, the non-restoration of the 53

Cf. DAY, “Ark”; KALIMI / PURVIS, “Hiding”; WEITZMAN, Surviving, 25–28. For the occurrence and distribution of the motif in Exod to Kgs see the chart below (p. 238); moreover, the motif also occurs 48 times in Chronicles as well as in Jer 3:16; Ps 132:8. 55 See, e.g., STAUBLI, Image, 222–229; for the debate on the function and symbolic meaning of the ark see JANOWSKI, Sühne, 281–286. On portable thrones in Egypt as comparative material see METZGER, Königsthron, 361–362. 56 Cf., e.g., KEEL, Geschichte, 215; PORZIG, Lade, 294–295. 57 Cf. DAY, “Ark”, 261–265. 58 Cf., e.g., KEEL, Geschichte, 1033–1034; PORZIG, Lade, 296–297. 59 Cf. SCHÄFER-LICHTENBERGER, “Verlust”, 241. Moreover, one could ask if the ark might not have been a rather magical cultic object in the First Temple (just like other examples from its ancient Near Eastern environment), which seemed embarrassing to exilic 54

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ark was an example of a significant discontinuity in the official cult of Jerusalem. We can safely assume, on the historical level, that an ark played a prominent cultic role for a certain period in the preexilic temple of Jerusalem, but that it was not restored in the postexilic temple. 3.2 The Menorah: Historical Reality in the Postexilic Temple The menorah enters the stage of the Pentateuch at Sinai, following the ark closely. It is presented to the eyes of Moses and of readers by divine revelation, after the Table of Showbread, with an elaborate description (Exod 25:31–39). If we try to trace the menorah beyond Sinai, however, the evidence is quite different: there is none. Here is a chart that displays the distribution of both motifs in the books of Exodus to Kings: Ark (‫)ארון‬

Menorah (‫)מנורה‬

Exod

25:10, 24–16, 21f; 26:33f; 30:6, 26; 31:7; 35:12; 37:1, 5; 39:35; 40:3, 5, 20f

25:31–35; 26:35; 30:27; 31:8; 35:14; 37:17–20; 39:37; 40:4, 24

Lev

16:2

24:4

Num

3:31; 4:5; 7:89; 10:33, 35; 14:44

3:31; 4:9; 8:2–4

Deut

10:1–3, 5, 8; 31:9, 25f

-

Josh

3:3, 6, 8, 11, 13–15, 17; 4:5, 7, 9–11, 16, 18; 6:4, 6–9, 11–13; 7:6; 8:33

-

Judg

20:27

-

1 Sam

3:3; 4:3–6, 11, 13, 17–19, 21f; 5:1–4, 7f, 10f; 6:1–3, 8, 11, 13, 15, 18f, 21; 7:1f; 14:18

-

2 Sam

6:2–4, 6f, 9–13, 15–17; 7:2; 11:11; 15:24f, 29

-

1 Kgs

2:26; 3:15; 6:19; 8:1, 3–7, 9, 21

[7:49: ten lampstands!]

theologians. This could explain the remarkably negative view of it expressed in Jer 3:16. The portrayal of the ark as the container of the two tablets (and thus the centre of the Sinaitic expression of the divine will) could well be a theological reinterpretation (which is particularly present in Deuteronomy: WILSON, “Container”). For a recent reconstruction of the development of the theological significance attributed to the ark see MCCORMICK, “Box”, against the background esp. of VON RAD, “Tent” and VAN DER TOORN / HOUTMAN, “David”; see also VON RAD, “Deuteronomium-Studien”, 128–129; VAN DER TOORN, Image, 241–242.

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The menorah is not mentioned even once between Deuteronomy and Kings.60 Where we might expect some reference to the menorah – in the context of the construction of the temple (1 Kgs 6–8), we find “ten lampstands” instead of one (7:49).61 Moreover, the menorah is not mentioned among the spoils taken away by the Babylonians (2 Kgs 24:13; 25:13–17).62 The parallel account in Jeremiah does fill the gap, but with “lampstands” in the plural (Jer 52:19; in accordance with 1 Kgs 7:49). The only reference to “the menorah” allegedly in the time of the preexilic temple is provided by the Chronicler in Abijah’s speech, according to which care is taken in Jerusalem “for the golden lampstand so that its lamps may burn every evening” (2 Chr 13:11). This is an obvious retrojection of the postexilic cult into the First Temple period, and thus evidence of the menorah’s importance at the time of the composition of Chronicles.63 While texts that claim to speak about the preexilic temple (with the single exception of 2 Chr 13:11) remain silent about the seven-armed menorah, we have ample evidence of its importance in the late postexilic temple. We are told about Antiochus’ removal of “the lampstand” in 167 BCE (1 Macc 1:21), and its restoration under Judas Maccabeus (1 Macc 4:49).64 The menorah is mentioned 60

1 Sam 3:3 mentions a “lamp of God” (‫ )נר אלהים‬in the “temple of YHWH” in Shiloh. Most commentators see a connection here with the “continuous lamp” (‫ )נר תמיד‬of Exod 27:20. Within the sanctuary texts of Exodus, the “lamp” is connected with the menorah through the term “light” (compare ‫ מאור‬in 27:20 with “the menorah of the light”, ‫מנרת המאור‬, in Exod 35:14). Thus, read within the canon of the Hebrew Bible, the “lamp of God” of 1 Sam 3:3 can be read in terms of the menorah of the wilderness sanctuary. The unique expression “lamp of God”, however, seems very unlikely to have originally referred to the seven-armed menorah. Originally, it rather referred to a single lampstand. Cf. HACHLILI, Menorah, 12. 61 These are seen to be stands for a single lamp: HACHLILI, Menorah, 17 (contra HARAN, Temples, 192). For examples of lampstands from archaeology see HACHLILI, Menorah, 13–15. For the rabbinic solution to the issue of the missing menorah in Solomon’s temple see MEYERS, Menorah, 36: “You must ... say that [candelstick] of Moses stood in the middle with five [candlesticks] to the right of it and five to the left of it” (Menaḥot 98b). 62 2 Kgs 24:13 claims that “all the vessels of gold in the temple of YHWH, which King Solomon of Israel had made” were affected. Since, according to 1 Kgs 6–8, the seven-armed menorah was not among the objects constructed under Solomon, it cannot be intended here. 2 Kgs 25:14–15 mentions many vessels made of bronze, but also objects of gold and silver. If the author(s) of theses verses had seen the seven-armed lampstand, one would expect that they would have explicitly mentioned it. 63 Compare KLEIN, 2 Chronicles, 203, on 2 Chr 13:11: “The series of rituals mentioned here match best with the tabernacle account and thus make the temple cult in Jerusalem the direct continuation of and therefore the legitimate successor to the cult of the tabernacle”. Cf. in greater detail KNOPPERS, “Battling”, 519–520. 64 1 Macc 1:20-21: “After subduing Egypt, Antiochus returned in the one hundred forty-third year. He went up against Israel and came to Jerusalem with a strong force. He arrogantly entered the sanctuary and took the golden altar, the lampstand for the light, and all its utensils.” 1 Macc 4:49: “They made new holy vessels, and brought the lampstand, the altar of incense, and the table into the temple”.

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by (Pseudo-)Hecataeus,65 and Josephus provides descriptions of it.66 Moreover, there is iconographic evidence for it, some of the earliest examples being coins under Antigonus Mattathias (40–37 BCE).67 Most prominently, the menorah and the table represent the most prestigious spoils from Jerusalem according to a relief on the Arch of Titus in Rome.68 These sources provide ample evidence for the importance of the menorah69 in the cult of the postexilic temple in the Hellenistic and Roman periods, up to the temple’s final destruction in 70 BCE. On the other hand, there is a complete lack of evidence for the existence of the seven-armed menorah in the preexilic temple. Having collected and evaluated the available historical and archaeological data, Rachel Hachlili comes to the conclusion that “the seven-armed menorah does not antedate the Second Temple period”.70 More concretely, it “originated in the time span between the Return to Zion and the Hasmonean period”.71 The menorah was an “innovation” of the Second Temple.72 3.3 How Do the Descriptions Relate to Historical Reality? The preceding analysis tried to make plausible that both the ark and the menorah described by the voice of God at Sinai (Exod 25) did have some historical basis in the temples of Jerusalem; an ark existed for some time in the preexilic temple, but it was not restored in the postexilic temple. The menorah, contrarily, did not exist in the preexilic temple, but it played a prominent role in the postexilic one. But how do the written descriptions of these objects from the desert sanctuary relate to the respective cult items in the temple of Jerusalem? 65 Referring to the temple in Jerusalem, this source mentions “an altar and a lampstand; both are golden, and their weight two talents” (quoted after HAYWARD, Temple, 20; compare JOSEPHUS, Apion, 114). While the philosopher Hecataeus lived in the days of Alexander the Great and Ptolemy I (cf. BAR-KOCHVA, Pseudo-Hecataeus, 7–18), Bar-Kochva argues that the source quoted by Josephus is not authentic and that it rather dates to between 103 and 93 BCE (see esp. 249). 66 Bell. VII.5.5 (148–149); Ant. III.6.7 (144–146); cf. YARDEN, Spoils, 43–46. On the latter passage see the comments in JOSEPHUS, Antiquities 1–4, 269–270. For Jewish sources on the late history of the menorah see SPERBER, “History”, 140–159. 67 For these and other early representations see HACHLILI, Menorah, 41–50. 68 See the detailed analysis and reconstruction in YARDEN, Spoils. The arch may be dated to the reign of Domitian, probably soon after 81 CE and before 96 CE.; cf. PFANNER, Titusbogen, 91–92. 69 MEYERS, Menorah, 36–38, rightly observes that there were probably several specimens of the seven-armed candelabrum during the Second Temple period. Moreover, she analyses the different representations that do not match the description of Exod 25 in every detail. Their typical seven-armed shape, however, leaves no doubt, in my view, that this type of menorah is meant to represent the one described in Exod 25. 70 HACHLILI, Menorah, 9. 71 HACHLILI, Menorah, 36. 72 ALBERTZ, Exodus, 162: “Der alleinige siebenarmige Leuchter... war somit eine reformpriesterliche Innovation.”

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It seems very likely that the descriptions are genetically related to their physical counterparts. Theoretically, there are three options for how written descriptions could relate to their physical realizations. a) The description was created before and independently of its physical realization as some sort of cultic vision, and the historical object was produced on the basis of the text. b) The description and the object were fashioned at the same time, the text being the literary expression of an artistic design created for the temple. c) The object was created first and independently from the text; the text is in fact a later description of the object. The first option generally seems less likely than the second and the third. There is great historical probability that, in the course of making a new cultic object, a text may be produced that provides its theological justification – as could be seen in the case of Nabonidus’ propaganda texts that accompanied his restoration of temples. It seems much less likely that an ideal description of a cultic object would have only later been realized – contrary to what the authors of ideal portrayals of such objects (e.g. in Exod 25) wish to make readers believe.73 These preliminary considerations prepare us to try to imagine the historical development that led to the composition of the sanctuary texts.

4. Historical Reconstruction: The Wilderness Sanctuary as an Archetype of Continuity For any historical reconstruction, we rely on the sources that we collect and evaluate, and on our imagination (interpretative framework), which we try not to confuse with objective reality.74 If we imagine Jerusalem’s temple burning in 587 BCE,75 we cannot overestimate the impact that the temple’s destruction had on the minds of those who had seen in it the dwelling place of their God, the protector of Jerusalem and Judea.76 What did it mean for the priesthood? With the temple they not only lost the source of their income and the splendour of their prestige, but the very foundation of their religious self-understanding.77 73

Descriptions may, of course, be used as justification for the production of replacements for old or lost objects; for which the Letter of Aristeas provides an (invented) example (see above, p. 230). 74 For a fine reflection on historical method see KNAUF, “History”, esp. 57–79. 75 The burning of the temple seems to be one of the most credible pieces of information that has come down to us in biblical historiography (comparable perhaps to Jesus’ crucifixion), since it is the greatest imaginable embarrassment, which any writer would have avoided relating had it not really happened. On the criterion of “embarrassment” after Schillebeeckx cf. MEIER, Jew, 168–171. 76 Cf. COHN, “Responses”. On pre-exilic temple ideology see, concisely, BEDFORD, Temple, 2–4. 77 Although we have to assume that Jerusalem’s priesthood formed part of the intellectual elite of Judean society, their minds were not contaminated by Darwins, Nietzsches or Freuds. They were purely and naturally religious to the core.

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The burning of the temple must have been a religious and existential nightmare for them. The catastrophe gave rise to radically new ideas that attributed a much less prominent role to the temple: “Heaven is my throne and the earth is my footstool. What is the house that you would build for me, and what is my resting place?” (Isa 66:1). What was needed, first of all, was a theological explanation of this catastrophe. A radical one was given in YHWH’s own words to Solomon. In the case of Israel’s disobedience, YHWH says, “This house will become a heap of ruins” (1 Kgs 9:8)!78 During the Babylonian exile, the temple survived in memories and in texts, some of which may have been carried to Babylon by the priests,79 while others may only have been written down there to preserve sacred memory.80 But what if, surprisingly, after five decades, YHWH was to choose the Persian Cyrus as his “Messiah” (Isa 45:1) and to allow Judeans to return to their home country and rebuild the temple? The priests’ sons and grandsons,81 who had heard their fathers tell stories about the marvellous temple in Jerusalem and its cult, had to re-imagine a temple and a cult for themselves. On the one hand, they would try to recover whatever they could find from written and oral memories to restore the splendid reality of the past. On the other hand, some elements of the ancient cult would have been irretrievably lost; and some cultic ideas they had learned from their fathers might not have made sense in the context of their radically changed cultural experience. They might well have seen the necessity of creating a new cult upon its ancient ruins. 78 To save their religious worldview, priests had to explain disaster by justifying YHWH; this lead to theodicy as one of the main historiographical outlooks of DtrH as analyzed by Martin Noth (History, esp. 142–143). This, however, did not suffice. What was urgently needed was a perspective for a future of the people (cf. WOLFF, “Kerygma”; MARKL, “Future”). 79 For a reflection on possible sources see VAN SETERS, “Fact and Ideology”, 49–51. 80 VAN SETERS, “Fact and Ideology”, 57, considered the possibility that the building account of the building of Solomon’s temple (1 Kgs 6–7) may have been written down after the temple’s destruction to “provide a model for its reconstruction”. Moreover, the account should construct continuity of the pre-exilic temple from Solomon to its destruction, which is corroborated by the “retrospective reference in 2 Kgs 25:16–17 ... to Solomon’s work on the temple, as well as the repetition of the description of the bronze pillars” (ibid., 56). 81 It remains difficult, of course, to know when the rebuilding of the temple really was finished. Ezra 6:15 dates its completion to Darius’ sixth year. Despite the confident acceptance of this date by many authors (cf. e.g., STEVENS, Temples, 43–58), one should take the theological vision of this date into consideration: “The current dating scheme almost certainly is intended to link the rebuilding of the temple to the fulfilment of the predictions in the book of Jeremiah concerning the rebuilding of Jerusalem more generally” (EDELMAN, “What Can We Know”, 455; see also eadem, Origins, 80–131). GRABBE, Judaism, 128, is sceptical about the date, since “the resources available were unlikely to have been sufficient to allow completion so soon”. See also idem, “Reality”, esp. 305. For a detailed argument for a date to the early years of the reign of Darius I see BEDFORD, Temple, 183–299; for the minority view that favours Darius II (423–404 BCE) as the rebuilder, see, e.g., DEQUEKER, “Darius”, 68.

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This mutual interplay between the necessity of discontinuity and the necessity of establishing continuity between the pre- and the postexilic temples of Jerusalem is the most probable setting for the literary construction of the wilderness sanctuary. The sanctuary is a priestly squaring of the circle, a solution to the conundrum of discontinuity versus continuity. Postexilic priestly scribes portrayed a “paradigmatic” 82 sanctuary which was placed at the origin of Israel, at Sinai, and which contained important cultic objects relating to the ancient temple that oral or literary tradition had preserved, such as the ark, together with innovative objects, such as the menorah,83 that they were designing themselves assisted by divine inspiration. The need for imagined continuity is the very reason why priestly scribes combined in the sanctuary what historically never belonged together.84 The sanctuary seems to have been redactionally connected with the inauguration scene of the ‘Salomonic’ temple (see above on 1 Kgs 8) and thus to have been shown as the origin of the cult of Jerusalem. Although the sanctuary’s ark was lost, its menorah, table, vessels and priestly vestments could come to real life in the new temple. If this reconstruction comes close to historical reality,85 the wilderness sanctuary indeed provided an archetype of continuity between the pre- and the postexilic temples of Jerusalem.

5. Implications for the Rise of the Torah The Fall of Jerusalem may lie behind seemingly unsuspected texts of the Pentateuch, such as the descriptions of the tabernacle; the temple seems to be burning, as it were, between the ark and the menorah. Historical research on the Pentateuch has suffered from a lack of hard historical criteria. The above analysis is an attempt to contribute an argument that is based on “external” evidence – external at least to the Pentateuch. The argument’s central observations focused on the ark and the menorah described in the sanctuary texts in the book of Exodus because they allow for comparative investigation in biblical historiography. Since the seven-armed menorah did not appear in Jerusalem’s 82

For a fine reflection on the “paradigmatic” and “historiographical” character of “P” see BOORER, “Nature”. 83 GUTMANN, “Menorah”, 290, also sees the “effort of the priestly writers to legitimize the menorah they saw in the Second Temple” in the background of its description in Exod 25. Gutmann’s contribution was integrated by BLUM, Studien, 303. 84 My overall view of the sanctuary texts, therefore, comes close to Rainer Albertz’s assessment; he considers the sanctuary texts a “program” for the temple’s “critical revision” (ALBERTZ, Exodus, 24) and attributes their basic conception to his first Priestly redaction (PB1), which he dates to the last third of the sixth century BCE, “when the Second Temple was planned and built” (ibid., 13; my translations). 85 This historical scenario is not new, of course. It was basically outlined by Julius Wellhausen. In the process of my research, however, I did not set out to defend his theory, but I have become a convert to this view by collecting and evaluating data.

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temple cult before its restoration under Persian rule, its detailed description is unlikely to originate from before that time. If one accepts this line of argument, one cannot but reflect on its consequences for dating texts in the Pentateuch. While the description of the ark may rely on some source that preserved sacred memory of its dimensions and design, its theological explanation as the container and space of divine revelation (Exod 25:22) may well be a later idealization. The menorah was most likely conceived only for the cult of the postexilic temple.86 If this is the case, the descriptions of the ark and the menorah in Exod 25 could provide an exemplary case for how the conception of the sanctuary texts should be understood. They are likely to incorporate information about the preexilic cult that was handed down to its authors by their priestly ancestors, be it orally or in written sources. Yet the very conception of the sanctuary as originating at Sinai and its portrayal as an archetype, a “model” (Exod 25:9: ‫ ;תבנית‬παράδειγμα) revealed to Moses, is most likely to have originated with the need to create theological foundations for the new temple after Exile.87 These texts systematically combine knowledge preserved from the preexilic cult with the developing postexilic cult and frame them in the (imaginary) archetypal scenery at Sinai.88 The conception of Israel as generous, voluntary artisans in the sanctuary texts aptly fits the situation of a postexilic citizen-temple community.89 If “P” be seen as an originally independent source, if it be considered a (set of) redactional layer(s), the latest stages of its development clearly show an effort to root postexilic cultic reality at Sinai and, not least, in creation.90 The 86 While the menorah is a clear example of a post-exilic item in Jerusalem’s temple cult, this may similarly be true for other elements of the cult described in the sanctuary texts. The prominent role attributed to the table of shewbread among the first items to be described in Exod 25 (compare, by contrast, its late and brief appearance in 1 Kgs 7:48) seems to be mirrored in evidence of the late postexilic cult: the table appears together with the menorah on the coins of Antigonus Mattathias and on the Arch of Titus: cf. YARDEN, Spoils, 71–92. 87 The role of Moses as mediator of divine revelation of the sanctuary in a pre-monarchic situation helps to legitimize the reconstruction of the temple in the post-monarchic period, when there is no longer a king anymore, who would be usually supposed to establish a temple according to divine instruction. Cf. BERLEJUNG, “Handwerker”, esp. 155; UTZSCHNEIDER, Heiligtum, 152–159. 88 Despite the imaginary setting, the sanctuary texts presuppose a very concrete conception of the cult. Cf. BLUM, Studien, 304: “Nimmt man die priesterliche Tradition beim Wort, dann geht es ihr gerade um die konkrete Gottesgegenwart, die aber ohne ebenso konkrete, ‘dingliche’ Räume, Institutionen, Regelungen usw. weder für den heiligen Gott noch für das Volk, das dessen Gegenwart ausgesetzt ist, tragbar wäre!” Thus, Blum considers the idea of a “representation of the sanctuary in the word” in the sense of “spiritualization” of the cult in the sanctuary texts (cf. FRITZ, Tempel, esp. 153) a “modern projection” (BLUM, Studien, 304). 89 Cf. UTZSCHNEIDER, Heiligtum, 292–297; BERLEJUNG, “Handwerker”, 160, 168; WEINBERG, Community. 90 See, e.g., JANOWSKI, “Tempel”; GEORGE, Tabernacle, 181–189. This is especially clear regarding the Sabbath Commandment: GRUND, Entstehung, esp. 229; TIMMER, Creation,

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Chronicler 91 shortens the Deuteronomistic description of Solomon’s temple while emphasizing elements from the tabernacle (2 Chr 3–4).92 Could this indicate that the tabernacle texts emerged only later than the Deuteronomistic description and that only then the Chronicler harmonized the “Solomonic” temple with postexilic cultic reality? 93 Cultic continuity grounded on measurements of divine origin or on objects related to divine presence was a general feature in ancient Near Eastern temple ideologies. It was expressed with particular emphasis in Neo-Babylonian ideology to which Judean exiles were exposed. The same ideas continued in the Persian empire and clearly influenced the reconstruction of the temple in Jerusalem (see esp. Ezra 6:3–5). Early Jewish texts such as the Letter of Aristeas attest to the cultural continuity of such concerns. The detailed descriptions of the sanctuary and its cult in the priestly Sinaitic texts of the Pentateuch seem to respond to the same need for cultic continuity,94 even if on a high level of literary abstraction: the projection of both old and new as a literary mirage95 that creates an archetype in the original past in which the first and the second temples of Jerusalem merge into symbolic unity. Texts that try to portray an ideal original past are bound to conceal or, at least, symbolize, the “diluvian” disaster that caused their creation. The destruction of Jerusalem and the temple by the Babylonians proved to be a highly creative gap96 that inspired priestly intellectuals to create a bridging historiography. The rise of the Torah as a grand project of literary restoration went along with the physical restoration of the temple in Jerusalem. In other words: had Jerusalem not fallen, the Torah, as we have it, would not have risen.

esp. 63–74; MARKL, Dekalog, 116–117; idem, “Ten Words”, 22–23. For the early reception of the connection between Sabbath and sanctuary see CALAWAY, Sabbath. 91 On the role for Chronicles for Pentateuch studies cf. JONKER, “Paraleipomenon”. 92 See KLEIN, 2 Chronicles, 44. 93 The Chronicler’s conception is just a short step away from the view expressed in the Wisdom of Solomon: “You have given command to build a temple on your holy mountain, and an altar in the city of your habitation, a copy of the holy tent that you prepared from the beginning” (μίμημα σκηνῆς ἁγίας ἣν προητοίμασας ἀπ᾽ ἀρχῆς; Wis 9:8). 94 The description of the preexilic ark represents a literary treasure of sacred memory that continued to inspire Early Jewish and Christian minds; cf. n.53 and ANDERSON, “Theology”. In a similar vein, Qumran’s Copper Scroll seems to have hidden imagined temple treasures after the second and final destruction of Jerusalem’s temple (70 C.E.); cf. WEITZMAN, Surviving, 101–108. 95 For this metaphor cf. PROPP, Exodus 19–40, 710. 96 While the sixth century BCE has been aptly called a “creative age” (ACKROYD, Exile, 7–12) and exile a “catalyst” (KLEIN, Israel, 1), the creativity sparked by the challenges of the sixth century continued well beyond that time.

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CROSS, F. M., “The Priestly Tabernacle”, in: D. N. Freedman / G. E. Wright (eds.), The Biblical Archaeologist Reader, New York 1961, 201–228 (BA 10 [1947] 45–68). DAY, J., “Whatever Happened to the Ark of the Covenant?”, in: idem (ed.), Temple and Worship in Biblical Israel (LHB 422), London 2005, 250–270. DEQUEKER, L., “Darius the Persian and the Reconstruction of the Jewish Temple in Jerusalem (Ezra 4.24)”, in: J. Quaegebeur (ed.), Ritual and Sacrifice in the Ancient Near East: Proceedings of the International Conference organized by the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven from the 17th to the 20th of April 1991 (OLA 55), Leuven 1993, 67–92. DEVRIES, S. J., 1 Kings (WBC 12), Nashville 2003. DUBOVSKÝ, P., The Building of the First Temple: A Study in Redactional, Text-Critical and Historical Perspective (FAT 103), Tübingen 2015. EDELMAN, D., The Origins of the “Second” Temple: Persian Imperial Policy and the Rebuilding of Jerusalem, London 2005. —, “What Can We Know about the Persian-Era Temple in Jerusalem?”, in: J. Kamlah (ed.), Temple Building and Temple Cult: Architecture and Cultic Paraphernalia of Temples in the Levant (2.-1. Mill. B.C.E.) (ADPV 41), Wiesbaden 2012, 343–368. FISCHER, G., Jeremia 26–52 (HThKAT), Freiburg i.Br. 2005. —, Jeremia: Der Stand der theologischen Diskussion, Darmstadt 2007. FISCHER, G. / MARKL, D., Das Buch Exodus (NSK.AT 2), Stuttgart 2009. FRIED, L. S., “Temple Building in Ezra 1-6”, in: M. J. Boda / J. Novotny (eds.), From the Foundations to the Crenellations, 319–338. FRIEDMAN, R. E., “Tabernacle”, ABD 6 (1992) 292–300. FRITZ, V., Tempel und Zelt. Studien zum Tempelbau in Israel und zu dem Zeltheiligtum der Priesterschrift (WMANT 47), Neukirchen-Vluyn 1977. GEORGE, M. K., Israel’s Tabernacle as Social Space (SBL Ancient Israel and Its Literature 2), Atlanta 2009. GOODING, D. W., The Account of the Tabernacle: Translation and Textual Problems of the Greek Exodus (TaS 6), Cambridge 1959. GÖRG, M., Das Zelt der Begegnung. Untersuchung der sakralen Zelttradition Altisraels (BBB 27), Bonn 1967. GRABBE, L. L., Judaism from Cyrus to Hadrian, vol. 1, The Persian and Greek Periods, Minneapolis 1992. —, “The Reality of the Return: The Biblical Picture Versus Historical Reconstruction”, in: J. Stökl / C. Waerzeggers (eds.), Exile and Return: The Babylonian Context (BZAW 478), Berlin 2015, 292–307. GRAY, J., I and II Kings, Philadelphia 1970. GRUND, A., Die Entstehung des Sabbats: Seine Bedeutung für Israels Zeitkonzept und Erinnerungskultur (FAT 75), Tübingen 2011. GUTMANN, J., “A Note on the Temple Menorah”, ZNW 60 (1969) 289–291. HACHAM, N., “The Letter of Aristeas: A New Exodus Story?”, JSJ 36 (2005) 1–20. HACHLILI, R., The Menorah, the Ancient Seven-Armed Candelabrum: Origin, Form, Significance (JSJ.S 68), Leiden 2001. HADAS, M. (ed.), Aristeas to Philocrates (Letter of Aristeas) (JAL), New York 1951. HARAN, M., Temples and Temple-Service in Ancient Israel: An Inquiry into Biblical Cult Phenomena and the Historical Setting of the Priestly School, 2nd edn, Winona Lake 1985. HAYWARD, C. T. R., The Jewish Temple: A Non-Biblical Sourcebook, London 1996. HOMAN, M. M., To Your Tents, O Israel! The Terminology, Function, Form, and Symbolism of Tents in the Hebrew Bible and the Ancient Near East (Culture and History of the Ancient Near East 12), Leiden 2002.

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HONIGMANN, S., The Septuagint and Homeric Scholarship in Alexandria, London 2003. HOUTMAN, C., Exodus, vol. 3, Chapters 20–40 (HCOT), Kampen 2000. HUNDLEY, M. B., “Sacred Spaces, Objects, Offerings, and People in the Priestly Texts: A Reappraisal”, JBL 132 (2013) 749–767. HUROWITZ, V., I Have Built You an Exalted House: Temple Building in the Bible in Light of Mesopotamian and Northwest Semitic Writings (JSOT.S 115), Sheffield 1992. JACOB, B., Das Buch Exodus (ed. S. Mayer), Stuttgart 1997. JANOWSKI, B., “Tempel und Schöpfung”, JBTh 5 (1990) 37–69. —, Sühne als Heilsgeschehen: Studien zur Sühnetheologie der Priesterschrift und zur Wurzel KPR im Alten Orient und im Alten Testament (WMANT 55), 2nd edn, Neukirchen-Vluyn 2000. —, “Die Einwohnung Gottes in Israel. Eine religions- und theologiegeschichtliche Skizze zur biblischen Schekina-Theologie”, in: idem / E. E. Popkes (eds.), Das Geheimnis der Gegenwart Gottes: Zur Schechina-Vorstellung in Judentum und Christentum (WUNT 318), Tübingen 2014, 3–40. JAPHET, S., I and II Chronicles: A Commentary (OTL), London 1993. JENSON, P. P., Graded Holiness: A Key to the Priestly Conception of the World (JSOT.S 106), Sheffield 1992. JONKER, L. C., “From Paraleipomenon to Early Reader: The Implications of Recent Chronicles Studies for Pentateuchal Criticism”, in: C. M. Maier (ed.), Congress Volume Munich 2013 (VT.S 163), Leiden 2014, 217–254. JOSEPHUS, FLAVIUS, Judean Antiquities 1–4 (trans. and comm. L. H. Feldman; Flavius Josephus 3), Leiden 2000. —, Judean Antiquities 8–10 (trans. and comm. C. T. Begg / P. Spilsbury; Flavius Josephus 5), Leiden 2005. —, Against Apion (trans. and comm. J. M. G. Barclay; Flavius Josephus 10), Leiden 2007. KALIMI, I. / PURVIS, J. D., “King Jehoiachin and the Vessels of the Lord’s House in Biblical Literature”, CBQ 56 (1994) 449–457. —, “The Hiding of the Temple Vessels in Jewish and Samaritan Literature”, CBQ 56 (1994) 679–685. KEEL, O., Die Geschichte Jerusalems und die Entstehung des Monotheismus (2 vols.), Göttingen 2007. KLEIN, R. W., Israel in Exile: A Theological Interpretation (OBT), Philadelphia 1979. —, 2 Chronicles. A Commentary (Hermeneia), Minneapolis 2012. KNAUF, E. A., “From History to Interpretation”, in: idem, Data and Debates: Essays in the History and Culture of Israel and Its Neighbors in Antiquity (ed. H. M. Niemann et al.; AOAT 407), Münster 2013, 57–83 (= D. Edelman [ed.], The Fabric of History: Text, Artefact and Israel’s Past [JSOT.S 127], Sheffield 1991, 26–64). KNOHL, I., The Sanctuary of Silence: The Priestly Torah and the Holiness School, Minneapolis 1995. KNOPPERS, G. N., “ ‘Battling against Yahweh’: Israel’s War against Judah in 2 Chr 13:2–20”, RB 100 (1993) 511–532. KOVELMAN, A., Between Alexandria and Jerusalem: The Dynamic of Jewish and Hellenistic Culture (The Brill Reference Library of Judaism 21), Leiden 2005. LE BOULLUEC, A. / SANDEVOIR, P. , La Bible d’Alexandrie 2. L’Exode, Paris 1989. LISS, H., “The Imaginary Sanctuary: The Priestly Code as an Example of Fictional Literature in the Hebrew Bible”, in: O. Lipschits / M. Oeming (eds.), Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, Winona Lake 2006, 663–689. LIVERANI, M., “Memorandum on the Approach to Historiographic Texts”, Or. 42 (1973) 178–194.

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MACHINIST, P., “Mesopotamian Imperialism and Israelite Religion: A Case Study from the Second Isaiah”, in: W. G. Dever / S. Gitin (eds.), Symbiosis, Symbolism, and the Power of the Past: Canaan, Ancient Israel, and Their Neighbors from the Late Bronze Age through Roman Palaestina, Winona Lake 2003, 237–264. MARKL, D., Der Dekalog als Verfassung des Gottesvolkes: Die Brennpunkte einer Rechtshermeneutik des Pentateuch in Exodus 19–24 und Deuteronomium 5 (HBS 49), Freiburg i.Br. 2007. —, “The Ten Words Revealed and Revised: The Origins of Law and Legal Hermeneutics in the Pentateuch”, in: idem (ed.), The Decalogue and its Cultural Influence (HBM 58), Sheffield 2013, 13–27. —, “No Future without Moses: The Disastrous End of 2 Kings 22–25 and the Chance of the Moab Covenant (Deut 29–30)”, JBL 133 (2014) 711–728. —, “Zur literarischen und theologischen Funktion der Heiligtumstexte im Buch Exodus”, in: M. Hopf / W. Oswald / S. Seiler (eds.), Heiliger Raum. Exegese und Rezeption der Heiligtumstexte in Ex 24–40. Beiträge des Symposiums zu Ehren von Helmut Utzschneider, 27.–29. Juni 2014 (Theologische Akzente 8), Stuttgart 2016, 56–87. MAYER, W., “Seleukidische Rituale aus Warka mit Emesal-Gebeten”, Or. 47 (1978) 431–458. MCCORMICK, C. M., “From Box to Throne: The Development of the Ark in DtrH and P”, in: C. S. Ehrlich / M. C. White (eds.), Saul in Story and Tradition (FAT 47), Tübingen 2006, 175–186. MEECHAM, H. G., The Letter of Aristeas: A Linguistic Study with Special Reference to the Greek Bible (PUM 241), Manchester 1935. MEIER, J. P., A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus, vol. 1, The Roots of the Problem and the Person (AYBRL), New York 1991. METZGER, M., Königsthron und Gottesthron. Thronformen und Throndarstellungen in Ägypten und im Vorderen Orient im dritten und zweiten Jahrtausend vor Christus und deren Bedeutung für das Verständnis von Aussagen über den Thron im Alten Testament (AOAT 15/1), Neukirchen-Vluyn 1985. MEYERS, C. L., The Tabernacle Menorah: A Synthetic Study of Symbol from the Biblical Cult (ASORDS 2), Missoula 1976. MONTERO FENOLLÓS, J. L., “La ziggurat de Babylone: un monument à repenser”, in: B. André-Salvini (ed.), La tour de Babylone : études et recherches sur les monuments de Babylone. Actes du colloque du 19 avril 2008 au Musée du Louvre, Paris) (Documenta Asiana 10), Roma 2013, 127–146. MOSIS, R., Untersuchungen zur Theologie des chronistischen Geschichtswerkes (FThSt 92), Freiburg i.Br. 1973. MULDER, M. J., 1 Kings, vol. 1, 1 Kings 1–11 (HCOT), Leuven 1998. NOTH, M., Könige I. Teilband (BK.AT 9/1) Neukirchen-Vluyn 1968. —, The Deuteronomistic History (2nd edn; trans. J. Doull et al.; JSOT.S 15), Sheffield 1991. NOVOTNY, J., “Temple Building in Assyria”, in: M. J. Boda / J. Novotny (eds.), From the Foundations to the Crenellations: Essays on Temple Building in the Ancient Near East and Hebrew Bible (AOAT 366), Münster 2010, 109–139. OTTO, E., “Forschungen zur Priesterschrift”, ThR 62 (1997) 1–50. PFANNER, M., Der Titusbogen: Mit einer Bauaufnahme von Ulrike Hess und Fotografien von Helmut Schwanke (Beiträge zur Erschließung hellenistischer und kaiserzeitlicher Skulptur und Architektur 2), Mainz 1983. POPPER, J., Der biblische Bericht über die Stiftshütte: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Composition und Diaskeue des Pentateuch, Leipzig 1862.

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PORZIG, P., Die Lade Jahwes im Alten Testament und in den Texten vom Toten Meer (BZAW 397), Berlin 2009. PROPP, W. H.C., Exodus 19–40 (AncB 2A), New York 1998. —, “Deuteronomium-Studien”, in: idem, Gesammelte Studien zum Alten Testament II (TB 48), München 1973, 109–153. RAD, G. VON , “The Tent and the Ark”, in: idem, The Problem of the Hexateuch and other Essays, New York 1966, 103–124 (ET of: “Zelt und Lade”, Kirchliche Zeitschrift 42 [1931] 476–498). SCHÄFER-LICHTENBERGER, C., “ ʻSie wird nicht wieder hergestellt werdenʼ. Anmerkungen zum Verlust der Lade”, in: E. Blum (ed.), Mincha. FS Rolf Rendtorff, Neukirchen-Vluyn 2000, 229–241. SCHAUDIG, H., Die Inschriften Nabonids von Babylon und Kyros’ des Großen samt den in ihrem Umfeld entstandenen Tendenzschriften: Textausgabe und Grammatik (AOAT 256), Münster 2001. —, “Nabonid, der ʻArchäologe auf dem Königsthronʼ”, in: G. J. Selz (ed.), Festschrift für Burkhart Kienast (AOAT 274), Münster 2003, 447–497. —, “The Restoration of Temples in the Neo- and Late Babylonian Periods: A Royal Prerogative as the Setting for Political Argument”, in: Boda / Novotny (eds.), From the Foundations to the Crenellations, 141–164. —, “Cult Centralization in the Ancient Near East? Conceptions of the Ideal Capital in the Ancient Near East”, in: R. G. Kratz / H. Spieckermann (eds.), One God – One Cult – One Nation: Archaeological and Biblical Perspectives (BZAW 405), Berlin 2010, 145–168. SCHENKER, A., “The Ark as Sign of God’s Absent Presence in Solomon’s Temple: 1 Kings 8:6–8 in the Hebrew and Greek Bibles”, in: idem, Anfänge der Textgeschichte des Alten Testaments. Studien zu Entstehung und Verhältnis der frühesten Textformen, Stuttgart 2011, 99–109. SCHIMANOWSKI, G., Juden und Nichtjuden in Alexandrien (MJSt 18), Berlin 2006. SCHMITT, R., Zelt und Lade als Thema alttestamentlicher Wissenschaft, Gütersloh 1972. SONNET, J.-P., The Book within the Book: Writing in Deuteronomy (BiInS 14), Leiden 1997. —, “Salomon construit le Temple. 1 Rois 5–10”, in: C. Focant (ed.), Quelle maison pour Dieu? (LeDiv), Paris 2003, 111–142. SPEK, R. J. VAN DER, “Cyrus the Great, Exiles, and Foreign Gods: A Comparison of Assyrian and Persian Policies on Subject Nations”, in: M. Kozuh et al. (eds.), Extraction and Control. FS M. W. Stolper (SAOC 68), Chicago 2014, 233–264. SPERBER, D., “The History of the Menorah”, JJS 16 (1965) 135–159. STAUBLI, T., Das Image der Nomaden im alten Israel und in der Ikonographie seiner seßhaften Nachbarn (OBO 107), Freiburg, Schweiz 1991. STEVENS, M. E., Temples, Tithes, and Taxes: The Temple and the Economic Life of Ancient Israel, Peabody 2006. TCHERIKOVER, V., “The Ideology in the Letter of Aristeas”, HThR 51 (1958) 59–85. TIMMER, D. C., Creation, Tabernacle, and Sabbath: The Sabbath Frame of Exodus 31:12–17; 35:1–3 in Exegetical and Theological Perspective (FRLANT 227), Göttingen 2009. TOORN, K. VAN DER, The Image and the Book: Iconic Cults, Aniconism, and the Rise of Book Religion in Israel and the Ancient Near East (CBET 21), Leuven 1997. TOORN, K. VAN DER / C. HOUTMAN, “David and the Ark”, JBL 113 (1994) 209–231. UNGER, E., Babylon: Die Heilige Stadt nach der Beschreibung der Babylonier, Berlin 1931. UTZSCHNEIDER, H., Das Heiligtum und das Gesetz: Studien zur Bedeutung der sinaitischen Heiligtumstexte (Ex 25–40; Lev 8–9) (OBO 77), Freiburg 1988. —, “Tabernacle”, in: T. B. Dozeman / C. A. Evans / J. N. Lohr (eds.), The Book of Exodus: Composition, Reception, and Interpretation (VT.S 164), Leiden 2014, 267–301.

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VAN SETERS, J., “Solomon’s Temple: Fact and Ideology in Biblical and Near Eastern Historiography”, CBQ 59 (1997) 45–57. —, “The Chronicler’s Account of Solomon’s Temple-Building: A Continuity Theme”, in: M. P. Graham et al. (eds.), The Chronicler as Historian (JSOT.S 238), Sheffield 1997, 283–300. VATER, J. S., Commentar über den Pentateuch II, Halle 1805. WADE, M. L., Consistency of Translation Techniques in the Tabernacle Accounts of Exodus in the Old Greek (SBL.SCS 49), Leiden 2003. WEITZMAN, S., Surviving Sacrilege: Cultural Persistence in Jewish Antiquity, Cambridge, MA 2005. WEINBERG, J., The Citizen-Temple Community (trans. D. L. Smith-Christopher; JSOT.S 151), Sheffield 1992. WELLHAUSEN, J., Prolegomena to the History of Israel, Atlanta 1994 [1885]. WETTE, W. M. L. DE, Beiträge zur Einleitung in das Alte Testament, Hildesheim 1971 [1806–1807]. WEVERS, J. W., Notes on the Greek Text of Exodus (SCSt 30), Atlanta 1990. ―, Text History of the Greek Exodus (AAWG.MSU XXI), Göttingen 1992. WILLIAMSON, H. G. M., Ezra, Nehemiah (WBC 16), Waco 1985. WILSON, I., “Merely a Container? The Ark in Deuteronomy”, in: J. Day (ed.), Temple and Worship in Biblical Israel. Proceedings of the Oxford Old Testament Seminar (LHB 422), 2nd edn, London 2007, 212–249. WOLFF, H. W., “Das Kerygma des deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerks”, in: idem, Gesammelte Studien zum Alten Testament (ThB 22), München 1973, 308–324 (repr. from ZAW 73 [1961] 171–186). YARDEN, L., The Spoils of Jerusalem on the Arch of Titus: A Re-Investigation (Skrifter utgivna av Svenska Institutet i Rom 8), Stockholm 1991. ZENGER, E. et al., Einleitung in das Alte Testament (ed. C. Frevel; StTh 1,1), 8th edn, Stuttgart 2012.

Cult Centralization and the Torah Traditions in Chronicles Christophe Nihan 1. Introduction: Cult Centralization in the Torah through the Lens of Chronicles The purpose of the following essay is to offer a preliminary assessment of the way in which the book of Chronicles draws upon and reinterprets various pentateuchal traditions in its representation of Jerusalem and its temple as the central place of the Israelite cult. While it has often been remarked that Chronicles’ view of cult centralization seems to be significantly informed by pentateuchal traditions, this topic does not appear to have been studied comprehensively.1 Additionally, current discussion of cult centralization in the Pentateuch is characterized by significant developments, and Chronicles may arguably shed some light on some of these. The latter observation, however, deserves further discussion, as it provides much of the context for the present essay.2 Since the nineteenth century, the discussion of cult centralization in the Torah has long been focused primarily – at times even exclusively – on the book of Deuteronomy, specifically the law of Deut 12 and related passages.3 Following the work of W. M. L. de Wette, Deuteronomy (or, rather, a first version thereof) was commonly regarded as a document composed in the late Neo-Assyrian period, which formed the basis for Josiah’s cultic reform recounted in 2 Kgs 22–23.4 Accordingly, the single, central “place” (‫ )מקום‬where Israelites are required to bring the animals they want to sacrifice was consistently identified with the city 1 In particular, scholars have often noted the role of Deuteronomy’s law of centralization in Chronicles; see, e.g., JAPHET, Ideology, 89–90. As will be shown, however, Deut 12 is only one of the pentateuchal traditions used by Chronicles to express its conception of cult centralization. The fact that scholars have usually focused on the reuse of Deuteronomy’s law of centralization in Chronicles, and have paid less attention to the role of other pentateuchal traditions, is consistent with a broader trend in the study of cult centralization in ancient Israel since the nineteenth century: see the comments below on this issue. 2 This essay is part of a broader research project on cult centralization in the Neo-Assyrian, Persian and Hellenistic periods involving the Universities of Zurich, Tel Aviv and Lausanne, and sponsored by the Swiss National Fund for scientific research (no. 160785/1). 3 For a recent review of the scholarly discussion on this issue, see THELLE, Approaches, 3–21. 4 See DE WETTE, Beiträge; further, e.g., WELLHAUSEN, Prolegomena, 26–28, 32–34.

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of Jerusalem, even though the name “Jerusalem” is never explicitly mention in Deuteronomy (or, for that matter, in the rest of the Pentateuch). Finally, it was also commonly assumed that Josiah’s reform had an enduring impact on at least some segments of the Judean community in the following centuries, and that the law which motivated this reform was endorsed to a significant degree by the Judean scribes who composed and transmitted the biblical traditions in postexilic times.5 One particular consequence of this view is that many of the traditions dated after Deuteronomy were seen to endorse Deuteronomy’s programme of centralization, even when such traditions show little or no clear connections with this programme. Thus, J. Wellhausen already rightly noted that the Priestly source (P) never explicitly refers to Deuteronomy’s legislation on the central place; but he explained this observation with the notion that P merely presupposes the authority of Deuteronomy on the matter.6 In a somewhat similar manner, M. Noth argued that the “Deuteronomist” ascribed to the law of Deuteronomy, and especially to the law about cult centralization, a major role in the interpretation of Israel’s history down to the exile,7 yet he did not analyze in detail how, and to what degree, Deuteronomy’s law of centralization was effectively enacted in the books of Joshua to Kings.8 This reconstruction of Deuteronomy’s origins and of its place in the history of Judahite / Judean traditions, a more-or-less revised version of which can still be found in many recent studies, has become problematic on several grounds. In the context of this essay, it will be enough to point to three basic issues. To begin with, the general notion that Deuteronomy’s central place was necessarily to be identified with Jerusalem and the sanctuary on Mount Zion has been legitimately questioned. Archaeological excavations on Mount Gerizim have shown that the Samaritan sanctuary on this site had already been built in the Persian period (probably around the mid-fifth century BCE), and not in the Hellenistic period as was commonly assumed on the basis of Josephus’ testimony.9 The textual evidence, for its part, indicates that the tradition identifying Deuteronomy’s place (‫ )מקום‬with the sanctuary on Mount Gerizim is not part 5 Compare on this, e.g., the comments by WELLHAUSEN, Prolegomena, 27–28, on the role of prophets such as Jeremiah and Ezekiel and, later, of the returning golah, in upholding a centralized cult in Judah. 6 WELLHAUSEN, Prolegomena, 34ff. Compare, e.g., his statement on p. 35 that in Deuteronomy, “the unity of the cultus is commanded; in the Priestly Code it is presupposed” (emphasis original). 7 NOTH, Deuteronomistic History, 124. 8 THELLE, Approaches, 13–14, aptly comments with regard to Noth’s conception of the central role of the Deuteronomic legislation in the Deuteronomistic History: “This comes at the very end of the book and, surprisingly, the content of the law code of Deuteronomy is not discussed very much at all in the main part of the book. It is an underlying assumption, supported by the observation that the Deuteronomist put it at the beginning of his work.” 9 See MAGEN et al., Mount Gerizim Excavations; MAGEN, “Dating”. The earlier dating of the Samaritan sanctuary in Mount Gerizim was primarily based on Josephus’ testimony in Ant., 11:321–324.

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of a late “sectarian” revision, as was previously assumed, but effectively goes back to an earlier stage in the composition and transmission of this book. In particular, Deut 27:4 mandates the building of an altar on “Mount Gerizim” (‫ ;)בהר גריזים‬the alternative reading “Mount Ebal” (‫ )בהר עיבל‬in MT is arguably a later, polemical correction.10 Additionally, A. Schenker has shown that the use of the past tense (‫בחר‬, in the qatal) in reference to the place “chosen” by YHWH in Deut 12 and related texts of Deuteronomy is not specific to the SamP, but is also found in some Greek manuscripts which are unrelated to the Samaritan traditions (MSS 16 and 72, the Bohairic, the Sahidic and the Old Latin) and may even reflect the Old Greek of Deuteronomy.11 The use of the past tense is consistent with a reference to Mount Gerizim, but is more difficult to reconcile with a reference to Mount Zion.12 This observation supports therefore an identification of the central “place” of Deuteronomy with the sanctuary located in the region of Shechem. This sort of evidence, in turn, implies that it was no less legitimate for Samarian readers of the Torah in the Persian or Hellenistic period to identify Deuteronomy’s place with their own central cultic site on Mount Gerizim as for Judeans to identify this site with the temple on Mount Zion: the law of Deut 12 is effectively formulated in a way that made its appropriation possible by both communities.13 10

The reading “Mount Gerizim” in the SamP is corroborated by two additional witnesses: a manuscript of the Old Latin (Codex 100 of Lyon [in monte Garzin]) and Papyrus Giessen 19. It cannot, therefore, be regarded as a distinctively Samaritan reading. See further on this my comments in NIHAN, “Torah” (with references to earlier literature); also idem, “Garizim”. The antiquity of the reading “Mount Gerizim” has been confirmed by several recent studies: see, in particular, KNOPPERS, Jews and Samaritans, esp. 202–203; idem, “Northern Context”; HJELM, “Northern Perspectives”; KARTVEIT, “Place”. Compare also the recent discussion by ULRICH, Developmental Composition, 47–65, who offers a somewhat different solution. While he agrees that the reading “Mount Gerizim” is older than “Mount Ebal”, he argues that both names are later additions; initially, Deut 27:4 did not mention a specific place for the altar, but implicitly located it in Gilgal. This solution is possible, but it is also more hypothetical, especially since no ancient witness attests to a text where the location of the altar would remain unspecified in Deut 27:4. Finally, one may note that the reading “Mount Gerizim” is also supported by an unprovenanced fragment of Deuteronomy from the Judean desert recently published by James Charlesworth: see on this CHARLESWORTH, “Variant”; further the recent discussion of this fragment by ULRICH, Developmental Composition, 57–59. Cf. also my comments in NIHAN, “Garizim”. 11 SCHENKER, Lieu; see further on this issue KNOPPERS, “Parallel Torahs”, 514–515, as well as my comments in NIHAN, “Garizim”, 193–196. 12 The use of the qatal implies that YHWH chose the place for his central sanctuary before he revealed the law of Deuteronomy to Moses, and not afterward as in MT’s reading (‫)יבחר‬. This notion fits well with a location of Deuteronomy’s place in the area of Shechem, but not of Jerusalem. Shechem itself is already mentioned in Gen 12:6–7 as one of the sites where Abraham built an altar, whereas Mount Gerizim is mentioned immediately before Deut 12, in Deut 11:29. By contrast, Jerusalem itself is never explicitly mentioned in the Pentateuch. 13 For more details on this issue, see now the comprehensive discussion by KNOPPERS, Jews and Samaritans, 169–216 (“The Torah and ‘The Place[s] for Yhwh’s Name’ ”). The

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Second, several recent studies have shown that the place and the significance of Deut 12 within Judean traditions is arguably more complex than had previously been assumed. The historicity of Josiah’s reform, as well as the origins of Deuteronomy, are now both disputed.14 Even if one retains the notion that a first version of the book was composed in the seventh century BCE, and that some of the features mentioned in the account of 2 Kgs 22–23 – especially the elimination of astral elements from the temple in Jerusalem (2 Kgs 23:5, 11) – have a historical basis, the relationship between the original composition of Deuteronomy and the so-called “reform” of Josiah remains quite unclear.15 More generally, the connections between Deuteronomy’s law of centralization and the Former Prophets are less obvious than Noth and others have assumed. As noted by K. Schmid, Deuteronomy’s law of centralization plays virtually no role in the various “historical summaries” that are found in the books from Joshua to Kings.16 The book of Kings does refer to Jerusalem as the city “chosen” (‫ )בחר‬by YHWH to “establish” (‫ שים‬Hiphil) his name, which is somehow reminiscent of the phraseology of Deuteronomy;17 yet there are also some significant discontinuities between the traditions. In particular, the significance of Deuteronomy’s law of centralization has also been the subject of a recent issue of HebAI: see the contributions by KNOPPERS, “Northern Context”; HJELM, Northern Perspectives; KARTVEIT, “Place”. While there are some significant disagreements between the views expressed by these scholars, especially as regards the original referent of the central place mentioned in Deuteronomy, all agree nevertheless that in the Persian period this place could equally be claimed by Judeans and Samarians. 14 Regarding the issue of the historicity of Josiah’s reform, see, e.g., NIEHR, “Reform”; UEHLINGER, “Cult Reform”; HARDMEIER, “Joschija”. Concerning the origins of Deuteronomy, contrast, e.g., the views of OTTO, Deuteronomium (which maintains a seventh-century dating for the first draft of Deuteronomy), and KRATZ, “Idea”, which favours a later date for Deuteronomy, while acknowledging that the thesis situating Deuteronomy’s origins in the period between the fall of Samaria and the fall of Jerusalem is not implausible either (p. 137). 15 The elimination of astral elements from the Jerusalem temple appears to reflect the waning influence of Neo-Assyrian power in the second half of the seventh century BCE, as convincingly argued by UEHLINGER, “Cult Reform”, 297–305. As long observed, the account of the discovery of the “book of the law” is distinct from the account of Josiah’s cultic reform, and draws upon a well-established literary topos in the ancient Near East; see on this, e.g., RÖMER, “Transformations”. 16 SCHMID, “Deuteronomium”, esp. 204–205. 17 See 1 Kgs 8:16 LXX; 8:44, 48; 11:13, 32, 36; 14:21; 2 Kgs 21:7; 23:27. It is important to recognize that the references to the “choice” of Jerusalem in Kings do not comprise a fixed formula but evince considerable variations. Three passages refer to Jerusalem as the city which YHWH “chose” (‫ )בחר‬to “establish my / his name there” (‫ שמו שם‬/ ‫)לשום את שמי‬, an expression already found in Deuteronomy: see 1 Kgs 11:36; 14:21, as well as 2 Kgs 21:7 for a further variant of this expression; and compare with Deut 12:5, 21; 14:24; 26:2. Four other occurrences refer more specifically to the election of Jerusalem as city where a temple (‫ )בית‬is built for YHWH’s name: see 1 Kgs 8:16 LXX; 8:44, 48, and again 2 Kgs 23:27. Finally, the two remaining passages merely refer to Jerusalem as the city “chosen” by YHWH: 1 Kgs 11:13, 32.

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passages in Kings referring to Jerusalem as the city “chosen” by YHWH never explicitly identify the city or the temple with the ‫מקום‬, the central place of Deuteronomy. Solomon’s prayer, in 1 Kgs 8, does refer to the temple as the “place” where YHWH’s name resides (1 Kgs 8:29), but the following speech highlights the role of the temple as a central site where Israelites may successfully pray to YHWH (‫ פלל‬Hithpael, 1 Kgs 8:30, 33, 35, 42, 44), not as the central site to which they must bring their sacrifices, as per Deut 12.18 Instead, the identification of the temple as the central site for sacrifices is primarily expressed in Kings through polemics against the extra-Jerusalemite cultic sites designated as ‫ ;במות‬conversely, these polemics have no parallels in Deuteronomy itself.19 Further examples of discontinuities between Deuteronomy and Kings with regard to the concept of central place could be mentioned.20 Third, and lastly, it should also be noted in this context that the relationship between the Priestly traditions of the Pentateuch and Deuteronomy’s law of centralization has likewise become the subject of much scholarly discussion. In particular, several authors have questioned Wellhausen’s view that P would presuppose and tacitly endorse the concept of central place presented in Deuteronomy, arguing instead that the Priestly description of the wilderness sanctuary, the “tent of meeting” (‫)אהל מועד‬, as a portable shrine effectively promotes a significantly less centralized view of the Israelite cult, allowing for – or at least tolerating – the existence of multiple sanctuaries within the land. 18

Furthermore, the construction of Solomon’s speech in 1 Kgs 8 clearly implies that this prayer may be addressed even by Israelites residing in a foreign land, as long as it is directed toward (‫ )אל‬the site of the temple itself (1 Kgs 8:44, 48). In this way, the relevance of the temple is not restricted to communities residing within the land of Judah but is effectively extended to the communities of the Diaspora, a perspective which is unparalleled in the texts of Deuteronomy dealing with cult centralization. 19 On this issue, see especially the comprehensive discussion by BLANCO WIßMANN, Beurteilungskriterien, 59–91. The ‫ במות‬as cultic sites are never mentioned in Deuteronomy; in Deut 32:13; 33:29, the term merely refers to high, elevated places, with no cultic connotations. 20 For instance, the assertion that YHWH will make his name “dwell” in or at the central place, with the formula ‫לשכן שמו שם‬, occurs several times in Deuteronomy and is arguably one of the preferred ways of referring to the central place in this book (Deut 12:11; 14:23; 16:2, 6, 11; 26:2), whereas it is never used in Kings. On this issue, see the discussion by RICHTER, Name Theology, 43–52. In a recent monograph devoted to the concept of “chosen place” in the biblical traditions, R. I. Thelle even concludes that the notions of “chosen place” in Deuteronomy and “chosen city” in Kings represent two parallel discourses with little connection between them (THELLE, Approaches, esp. 204–212). In my view, and despite several correct observations made by this author, such a conclusion is too simplistic and does not adequately consider the evidence for engagement with Deuteronomy in some key texts of Kings. Solomon’s speech in 1 Kgs 8, in particular, is best viewed, in my opinion, as a text which takes up key motifs of Deut 12 in order to advance a distinct view of cult centralization. However, this issue goes beyond the scope of the present essay, and can be left aside here.

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The commonality between these authors lies in the notion that P’s conception of the cult is far more discontinuous with Deuteronomy than had previously been recognized. Beyond that, however, there is significant disagreement regarding the relationship between the Priestly tent of meeting and actual Israelite cultic sites. For instance, J. Milgrom, who follows Y. Kaufmann in this, argues that in P and H the tent of meeting expresses the prominence of a regional sanctuary (first located in Shilo and later in Jerusalem), which would, however, not be exclusive of other regional sanctuaries (reflecting what Milgrom terms a “limited doctrine of centralization”).21 Other scholars, by contrast, have argued that the description of the Priestly sanctuary as a portable shrine was intended to avoid identifying this sanctuary with a specific site, although here again explanations of this point diverge. For some, this is because the Priestly texts were composed at the time of the rivalry between the Judean and Samarian sanctuaries on Mount Zion and Mount Gerizim;22 for others, especially M. Douglas, the Priestly tent of meeting was meant to be a “model” of sorts for the various sanctuaries in the land.23 This brief sketch of the recent discussion – which could easily be supplemented by further considerations – indicates that the issue of cult centralization in the Torah and related traditions is, in effect, significantly more complex and less straightforward than had previously been assumed. While there can be no question that Deuteronomy’s law of centralization represents a major stage in the development of a centralized cult in ancient Israel, the place of that law in this development, as well as its relationship to other traditions pertaining to the Israelite cult, are no longer obvious. A renewed examination of this topic will, of course, need to discuss the origins and development of the Torah traditions related to cult centralization. But it should also consider, simultaneously, the ways in which cult centralization is articulated in various writings of the Second Temple period, as well as the role of the Torah in these writings. The latter approach is far less common – in fact, it has played little role in the debate on cult centralization so far – but it is nonetheless important: it provides us with some empirical evidence regarding the ways in which various pentateuchal traditions pertaining to cult centralization were effectively used and negotiated during the time of the Second Temple.24 21

MILGROM, Leviticus 1–16, 28–34; further idem, “Centralization”. Compare KAUFMANN, Religion (1960), 175–199. For a somewhat similar view in the case of H specifically, see also WEYDE, Festivals, esp. 72–74. 22 RÖMER, “Cult Centralization”, 178–180; and compare for this view DIEBNER, “Moses Zelt”. 23 DOUGLAS, Leviticus, 90–98. In what respect precisely the Priestly “tent of meeting” was meant to be a model for Israelite sanctuaries is not very clear from Douglas’s discussion, but this issue is not central here. 24 On the general issue, see especially the recent essay by JONKER, “Implications”, which contains several important remarks; and compare also idem, “Developments”.

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With regard to this issue, the book of Chronicles provides us with an important historical source. It has often been noted that the city of Jerusalem and, above all, its temple comprise the book’s main topic. As one author aptly puts it, “Much more than in any biblical book whatsoever, in Chronicles Jerusalem has been shaped into the absolute centre of all activities”.25 It is no less evident that the reuse of pentateuchal traditions plays a significant role throughout the book, as many authors have observed. And yet, as previously mentioned, the question of how pentateuchal traditions are combined and reused in Chronicles to express the centrality of Jerusalem does not appear to have been studied in detail. The present essay, while unable to provide comprehensive, in-depth coverage of this topic, will nonetheless attempt to map some key issues for future discussion. Before I begin, a few brief comments are in order regarding the origins and the composition of Chronicles. First, with the majority of recent scholars, I situate the origins of Chronicles in the Late Persian or Early Hellenistic period (fourth or third century BCE), although the later date is more likely in my opinion.26 Second, while there is evidence that the text of Chronicles has been rewritten and expanded in the course of its transmission, there is no compelling evidence, in my view, for assuming the existence of substantial successive redactions; in other words, the scope of the book as originally composed was already similar to, albeit not identical with, the scope of the canonical version of Chronicles.27 Third, and lastly, I also accept the classical view that the account of Judahite kingship in Chronicles is based upon Samuel-Kings; however, it is important to note that the version of Samuel-Kings to which the Chronicler had access was not identical with the MT of these books, and arguably even not identical with any of the extant versions of Samuel-Kings that have come down to us.28 25

BEENTJES, “Jerusalem”, 17. Beentjes also notes that 22.5 per cent of the references to Jerusalem in the Hebrew Bible are found in Chronicles alone. In addition, we need to take into account the fact that other names are also given to the city in Chronicles which are not included in Beentjes’ statistic, as rightly remarked by KALIMI, “Jerusalem”, 202 n. 46. For further studies on Jerusalem in Chronicles, see especially DENNERLIN, Bedeutung Jerusalems; SELMAN, “Jerusalem”; as well as KNOPPERS, “City”. 26 For a general discussion on this issue, see KNOPPERS, I Chronicles, 101–117. For the dating of Chronicles in the Early Hellenistic (rather than Late Persian) period, see already WELTEN, Geschichte, 200; further, e.g., ALBERTZ, Religionsgeschichte, 607ff., 622. 27 For a recent discussion of this issue, with additional literature, see KNOPPERS, I Chronicles, 90–100, esp. 90–93. In the following essay, the term “Chronicler” is merely used for convenience; I leave open the question whether the original draft of Chronicles was composed by a single author or by a group of scribes. 28 I have discussed this issue in detail in two recent studies: see NIHAN, “Textual Fluidity”; further idem, “Samuel”.

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2. The Jerusalem Temple as the Chosen “Place”: 2 Chronicles 7:12 and Related Texts We may initiate this discussion by looking at the way in which Chronicles relates to Deuteronomy’s law of centralization, and how the use of this law in Chronicles possibly differs from that in Kings. Arguably the most obvious connection with Deuteronomy, in this regard, concerns the references in Chronicles to Jerusalem as the city “chosen” (‫ )בחר‬by YHWH.29 It was already noted above that in the case of Kings, these references present elements both of continuity and of discontinuity with the language of Deut 12. In the case of Chronicles, a number of references to the divine choice of Jerusalem merely reproduces the text of Kings with no significant alterations; this is the case, in particular, for the occurrences of this motif in the context of Solomon’s prayer (2 Chr 6:5–6 // 1 Kgs 8:16 LXX;30 2 Chr 6:34 // 1 Kgs 8:44; 2 Chr 6:38 // 1 Kgs 8:48),31 as well as in the context of the reigns of Rehoboam (2 Chr 12:13 // 1 Kgs 14:21) and Manasseh (2 Chr 33:7 // 2 Kgs 21:7). 29

See 2 Chr 6:5, 6, 34, 38; 12:13; 33:7, to which must be added two more passages, in 2 Chr 7:12 and 7:16 (see below). While the parallels between Kings’ and Chronicles’ references to Jerusalem as the city “chosen” by YHWH have often been noted (e.g., JAPHET, Ideology, 89 with n. 252), few studies provide a detailed comparison of the use of this motif in both books. KALIMI, “Jerusalem”, 191–194, offers a more comprehensive discussion, but tends to assume that Chronicles largely follows Kings when referring to the divine choice of Jerusalem. See p.191: “The Chronicler recognizes Jerusalem as the chosen city of God, the center for his rituals and cults, the home of his only legitimate central temple. Accordingly, the author copied all the related texts concerning Jerusalem as the chosen city that appear in the book of Kings.” As we will see, however, the issue is more complex, because Chronicles omits a number of references found in Kings, and provides two additional references of its own. Kalimi himself implicitly qualifies his opening statement later in his analysis, when he notes that Chronicles omits the reference to the annulment of Jerusalem’s election in 2 Kgs 23:27 (ibid., 193). 30 In the case of 1 Kgs 8:16, Chronicles agrees with LXX (and 4QKgsa) against the shorter reading of MT. The reading of 1 Kgs 8:16 LXX is supported by 4QKgsa: see TREBOLLE BARRERA, “4QKgs”, 177. It is not entirely clear whether the shorter text of MT is the result of a textual accident (homoiteleuton from ‫ להיות שמי שם‬to ‫)להיות שמי שם‬, as has often been assumed (e.g., WILLIAMSON, Chronicles, 216; DILLARD, 2 Chronicles, 46; KALIMI, “Jerusalem”, 192), or whether it may possibly reflect a more original reading, later expanded in the Hebrew text which served as Vorlage for the Greek translation of Kings as well as for the composition of Chronicles. In any event, this issue is not decisive for the present discussion. 31 2 Chr 6:34 and 6:38 are virtually identical with 1 Kgs 8:44 and 8:48. 2 Chr 6:34 (MT and LXXB) reads “if they pray toward you [‫ ”]אליך‬instead of “toward YHWH” in 1 Kgs 8:44, and refers to Jerusalem as “this city [‫ ]העיר הזאת‬that you have chosen”, instead of simply “the city that you have chosen” in the parallel text of Kings. In the case of 2 Chr 6:38, the main differences are that Chronicles speaks of “the land of their captivity, where they have been taken captive” instead of “the land of their enemies”, and corrects the curious form, ‫בנית‬, “you have built” in the MT of 1 Kgs 8:48 (apparently implying that it is YHWH himself who built the temple) to ‫בניתי‬, “I have built” (referring to Solomon).

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Other references in Kings are omitted in Chronicles: this is the case for the three references found in 1 Kgs 11 (see 1 Kgs 11:13, 32, 36) – Chronicles skips this account entirely in order to conclude Solomon’s reign on a grand note instead, exalting the king’s wealth, prosperity and dominion (2 Chr 9:13–28) –32 as well as for that in 2 Kgs 23:27. As some authors note, the fact that Chronicles does not reproduce the latter passage is particularly interesting: since 2 Kgs 23:27 effectively declares the annulment of YHWH’s choice of Jerusalem,33 the omission of this reference in Chronicles appears to imply that, for the Chronicler, Jerusalem’s election had an enduring value, which could not be terminated by the exile and the (provisional?) disappearance of the Davidic dynasty.34 However, Chronicles’ main innovation vis-à-vis Kings with regard to the theme of the divine choice of Jerusalem concerns two statements found in the account of YHWH’s second manifestation to Solomon after the dedication of the temple (2 Chr 7:11–22, cf. 1 Kgs 9). In 2 Chr 7:12 YHWH’s discourse to Solomon begins in the same way as the parallel passage in 1 Kgs 9:3 by stating that the deity has “listened to your [Solomon’s] prayer” (‫)שמעתי את תפלתך‬. But whereas in 1 Kgs 9:3 YHWH continues by declaring that he will “consecrate”, or “sanctify” (‫ קדש‬Hiphil), “this house that you have built to establish my name there forever”, in 2 Chr 7:12 we find an entirely different statement: “I have chosen this place to be a house of sacrifice for me” (‫ובחרתי במקום הזה לי לבית‬ ‫)זבח‬. The notion that YHWH has “chosen” the temple of Jerusalem is then repeated once more in 2 Chr 7:16, where it is combined with the promise of 1 Kgs 9:3 that YHWH will “consecrate” the temple so that his name may reside there forever. The conception stated in 2 Chr 7:12, and partly repeated in 7:16, is significant for several reasons. First, it clearly identifies the temple of Jerusalem with the “place” (‫ )מקום‬that YHWH will “choose” (‫ )בחר‬for his name according to Deut 12.35 While this identification is already suggested by a few passages in Kings, it remains implicit in that book;36 as a matter of fact, 2 Chr 7:12 is the 32

On this aspect of Chronicles’ rewriting of Kings’ account, see, e.g., DILLARD, 2 Chronicles, 74–75. 33 2 Kgs 23:27 mentions the “rejection” (‫ )מאס‬by YHWH of “this city, which I had chosen, Jerusalem, and this house, of which I had said, ‘My Name will be there’”. The verb ‫ מאס‬in Hebrew is the main antonym of ‫( בחר‬e.g. Isa 41:9; Ps 78:67); accordingly, it expresses here the annulment of YHWH’s previous choice of Jerusalem (compare also, e.g., Jer 33:24 for a similar usage of ‫)מאס‬. 34 See, e.g., KALIMI, “Jerusalem”, 193. 35 See on this already JAPHET, Ideology, 89–90; idem, Chronicles, 614–615; further, e.g., LYNCH, Monotheism, 121. 36 See especially 1 Kgs 8:29 which, as already noted above, identifies the temple built by Solomon with the “place” (‫ )מקום‬where YHWH’s Name resides; the same identification is implied later in 1 Kgs 8:35. In this regard, the statement by JAPHET, Ideology, 90, that Kings would consistently identify the “place” of Deuteronomy with Jerusalem rather than with the temple is not entirely correct, and needs to be qualified. The point remains, nonetheless, that in Kings the temple is never expressly said to be “chosen” by YHWH.

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only passage in the Hebrew Bible where the temple of Jerusalem is expressly said to have been “chosen” by YHWH. Second, 2 Chr 7:12 makes explicit that the temple was chosen by YHWH to be a “house of sacrifice” (‫)בית זבח‬. This statement, as noted by S. Japhet, involves a significant correction of the conception expressed in Solomon’s prayer in 1 Kgs 8 (and reproduced in 2 Chr 6), which associated the temple, not with the sacrifices (which are never mentioned in the prayer itself) but with the prayers of the Israelites.37 By defining the temple as a “house of sacrifice” instead, 2 Chr 7:12 may be said to realign the sanctuary built by Solomon with Deut 12, since in Deuteronomy the central place is primarily defined as the site where the Israelites may legitimately bring their sacrifices (see Deut 12:5–6, 11–12). Nevertheless, the temple’s association with prayer is also retained in 2 Chr 7, since the following verses (2 Chr 7:13–15), which have no parallels in 1 Kgs 9, take up the language of Solomon’s prayer in 2 Chr 6,38 to conclude in v. 15 that YHWH will be receptive “to the prayer of this place” (‫)לתפלת המקום הזה‬.39 In this way, the temple, as represented in 2 Chr 7, now combines two central functions: it is simultaneously the place where the Israelites may legitimately bring their sacrifices, and where YHWH will effectively receive their prayers. The resulting description provides a compromise of sorts between the conceptions presented in Deut 12 and 1 Kgs 8 and is consistent, in addition, with other contemporary accounts associating the Jerusalem temple with both sacrifices and prayers (see especially Isa 56:7).40 There is, however, a further aspect of the use of the expression “house of sacrifice” in Chronicles which deserves mentioning in the context of this essay. Although the expression is unique in the Hebrew Bible, it has as an Aramaic parallel in two sources broadly contemporaneous with Chronicles. The first 37 See 1 Kgs 8:30, 33, 35, 42, 44, 48; and compare 2 Chr 6:21, 24, 26, 32, 34, 38. JAPHET, Ideology, 79, aptly comments in this respect: “In his prayer, Solomon never mentions sacrifices or asks that God accept the offerings of His people; in fact, he ignores the Temple’s ritual function. Yet, in 2 Chr 7:2ff., God answers Solomon as if the latter had sought divine approval of the Temple as a site of sacrificial worship” (my emphasis); compare also eadem, Chronicles, 614. 38 See especially the various threats enumerated in 2 Chr 7:13, all of which have parallels in 2 Chr 6:22–29, although the language used is partly distinct: lack of rain (6:26), locusts (6:28), pestilence (6:28). Verse 14 likewise contains motifs already present in 2 Chr 6, like the idea that YHWH will “hear from heaven” and “forgive their [Israel’s] sins”; both expressions effectively correspond to central concerns previously voiced by Solomon is his prayer. For further parallels between the language of vv.13–14 and 2 Chr 6, see the detailed analysis by JOHNSTONE, Chronicles, vol. 1, 357–358. 39 The construction ‫ לתפלת המקום הזה‬is somewhat ambiguous. From a grammatical perspective, the most obvious meaning is the prayer formulated on the site of the temple; but in light of the earlier references to the prayer of the Israelites directed “towards” (‫ )אל‬the temple in 2 Chr 6:34, 38, this aspect is arguably included as well in the expression used here. 40 JAPHET, Ideology, 80, notes that the Chronicler “views prayer and sacrifices as two sides of the same coin”, and that the same “organic” connection between prayer and sacrifice is also reflected in Isa 56:7.

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source is a passage from the “memorandum” (‫ )זכרן‬of the reply sent in 407 to the Judean community of Elephantine by Bagohi, governor of Judah, and Delaiah, one of the sons of the governor of Samaria, referring to the temple of Elephantine as the “house of sacrifice” (‫)בית מדבחא‬.41 The second is an inscription in lapidary Aramaic from the site of Mount Gerizim, probably dating from the third or second century BCE, which mentions “bulls in all … [sacrific]ed in the house of sacrifice [‫( ”]בית דבחא‬no. 199).42 It offers clear evidence that the designation “house of sacrifice” was also applied to the sanctuary on Mount Gerizim by the families who worshipped there. These two sources are important because they provide a broader historical context for understanding the statement found in 2 Chr 7:12. While the evidence provided by the Elephantine correspondence and the inscription from Mount Gerizim indicates that the expression “house of sacrifice” was effectively used for various sanctuaries in the Second Temple period, 2 Chr 7:12 asserts that it may legitimately be used only for the temple built in Jerusalem by Solomon. This assertion, in turn, is justified in reference to the Deuteronomic law of centralization, by identifying the temple built by Solomon with the central “place” of Deuteronomy. In this regard, 2 Chr 7 does not merely correct the conception stated in Solomon’s prayer (1 Kgs 8 // 2 Chr 6) to align it more closely with Deuteronomy’s law of centralization; it also constitutes, simultaneously, a polemic against the claims of rival sanctuaries at the time of the composition of Chronicles, especially the Samaritan sanctuary on Mount Gerizim. At this point, furthermore, it is important to observe that the identification of the Jerusalem temple with the central place chosen by YHWH in 2 Chr 7:12 is not introduced abruptly in Chronicles’ account, but has been carefully prepared in the previous account of the foundation of the cult under David and Solomon. According to Deut 12:8–12, the obligation on the Israelites to bring their sacrifices to the central place chosen by YHWH applies only after they have arrived in the ‫מנוחה‬, the “place of rest” (which apparently denotes the promised land here), and after YHWH has given them “rest” (‫ נוח‬Hiphil) from their enemies (see Deut 12:9–11). Similarly, in Chronicles the fact that the temple was built by Solomon rather than by David is explained with reference to the notion that Solomon’s reign was associated with a time of “rest” (‫ )נוח‬for all Israel.43 BCE

41 See TAD A4.9, l. 3. See further on this the comments by HURVITZ, “Terms”, 178–179, who also mentions further Syriac and Mandaic parallels for this expression (ibid., 178 n. 49). 42 See MAGEN et al., Mount Gerizim Excavations, no. 199. Compare also the comments in BECKING, “Samaritan Inscriptions”, 217; KNOPPERS, Jews and Samaritans, 128. For the argument that most of the inscriptions date to the third and second centuries BCE, see the comprehensive palaeographic analysis in DUŠEK, Inscriptions, 3–63; note, however, that Dušek himself does not preclude an earlier date in the fifth to fourth centuries for some of these inscriptions (ibid., 59–60). 43 In the previous verses, 1 Chr 22:7–8, David explains that he wanted to build the temple for YHWH (cf. 2 Sam 7:1–3 // 1 Chr 17:1–2) but was prevented from doing so because of the blood he had shed in his many wars. This explanation builds upon the earlier statement

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This notion was already implied in Kings’ account (see 1 Kgs 5:17–18), but it has been significantly developed in Chronicles. In 1 Chr 22:9, a passage without parallel in Kings, Solomon is described as “the man of rest” (‫)האיש מנוחה‬, to whom YHWH will “give rest [‫ נוח‬Hiphil] from all his surrounding enemies”.44 The latter statement was already applied to David in 2 Sam 7:1 (but contrast 1 Kgs 5:17–18), whereas it has been omitted in Chronicles’ retelling of the Dynastic Oracle (cf. 1 Chr 17:1) in order to emphasize the association between Solomon’s reign and the “rest” of Israel. Although other passages appear to imply that the division between the reigns of David and Solomon with regard to this motif is not entirely straightforward,45 the desire to present Israel’s rest as the signature feature of Solomon’s reign is unmistakable, as several scholars have noted. This association between Solomon’s reign and the theme of Israel’s rest, which is introduced in 1 Chr 22:9, motivates in turn the choice of Solomon (rather than David) as the builder of the temple, which is mentioned in the following verse (22:10). The close connection between Solomon, Israel’s rest, and the temple, is continued in 1 Chr 28:2, where the temple that will be built by Solomon is uniquely described as the “house of rest” (‫ – )הבית מנוחה‬an expression which forms the counterpart to the designation “man of rest” applied earlier to Solomon in 1 Chr 22:9.46 By describing Solomon as the “man of rest [‫ ”]מנוחה‬who will build the “house of rest [‫”]מנוחה‬, Chronicles thus expressly identifies the reign of Solomon with the time defined in Deut 12 when the Israelites must bring their in 1 Kgs 5:17, according to which David could not build the temple because of the many wars he had to fight against his enemies, but reinterprets by adding a more ritual rationale to the political-military one already provided in Kings (the shedding of blood apparently left David too unclean to build the temple). See, e.g., the discussion by KNOPPERS, 1 Chronicles, 775; and, for a more general discussion of this theme in Chronicles, MURRAY, “Veto” (with references to earlier studies). 44 In the second half of the verse this notion is further developed by means of a wordplay on the king’s name (‫ )שלמה‬and the word ‫שלום‬. Although this association is not made in Kings, it is found in other Second Temple writings; see, e.g., the discussion in ABADIE, David, 348 (with further references). 45 In particular, 1 Chr 22:18 apparently implies that the time of “rest” for Israel had already begun during David’s reign (see further 23:25). Arguably, this device is related to the preparations for the construction of the temple which are described in the following chapters (1 Chr 23–26), and thus serves to justify the fact that, in Chronicles’ account, these preparations already began under David’s reign. Note, in addition, that in 22:18 the mention of Israel’s rest follows David’s command to “all the leaders of Israel” to assist his son Solomon in 22:17, so that the “rest” motif remains in a sense associated with Solomon (BRAUN, 1 Chronicles, 227). 46 The connection between the designation of Solomon as the “man of rest” and the designation of the temple as the “house of rest” is all the more significant since the term ‫ מנוחה‬does not occur otherwise in Chronicles. The phrase ‫ בית מנוחה‬is a hapax in the Hebrew Bible, although the use of the term ‫ מנוחה‬to denote the place where YHWH resides (or is represented) has parallels in some texts from the Second Temple period, such as Isa 66:1 or Ps 132:13–14. See further on this the discussion in HURVITZ, “Terms”, 174–177.

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sacrifices to the centralized site of the cult. This theme, which is introduced in 1 Chr 22:9–10, finds its conclusion in the passage of 2 Chr 7:12 discussed above (and more broadly 2 Chr 7:12–16), when the temple built by Solomon is explicitly identified with the ‫מקום‬, the central place of Deuteronomy. The two passages (both of which have no parallel in Kings) are part of a coherent legal-historiographical concept based on the reuse of Deut 12 in Chronicles, and are strategically placed at the beginning and the end of the account of the foundation of the cult under David and Solomon, which is thus framed by the reference to Deuteronomy. The main function (albeit not necessarily the only one) of this sophisticated device is to describe the building of the temple by Solomon as the fulfilment of the law of Deut 12. With Solomon’s reign, according to Chronicles’ account, the time to observe the mandate of a centralized cult in Israel has arrived (1 Chr 22:9–10), and with the building of the temple in Jerusalem, this mandate has been fulfilled (2 Chr 7:12). Moreover, the legitimacy of Solomon himself as temple builder is further emphasized in Chronicles by the introduction of a new motif, likewise with no parallel in Kings, namely, the notion that Solomon was specifically “chosen” (again with ‫ )בחר‬by YHWH to build the temple (see 1 Chr 28:5–6, 10; further 29:1).47 The choice of Solomon and the choice of the Jerusalem temple are thus presented as two sides of the same coin in Chronicles: only the king chosen by YHWH could build the chosen “place” for Israel’s sacrifices and thus fulfil the command of a centralized cult as defined in Deuteronomy. This conception, one may note, goes significantly beyond Deuteronomy itself, where nothing is said about the possible role of the king in the establishment of the central place.48 Yet it is fully consistent with the perspective of Chronicles described here, which is concerned to identify the reign of Solomon with the fulfilment of the law of Deut 12, and consequently highlights the role of the king in the enforcement of Deuteronomy’s centralized cult.49 47 On the motif of Solomon’s election in Chronicles, see already the classical study by BRAUN, “Solomon”; further, e.g., ABADIE, David, 354–357. As noted by Braun, the closest parallel to the notion expressed here is in Ps 78:67–70 (see further, albeit more loosely, Ps 132), which also parallels YHWH’s choice of Mount Zion with his choice of David as king. However, Chronicles is the only book, in the Hebrew Bible, which expressly refers to the divine election of Solomon as king. 48 In Deuteronomy the king is exclusively mentioned in the context of the Law of the King of Deut 17:14–20, which says nothing about his possible involvement in Deuteronomy’s policy of centralization; on the contrary, the law is merely concerned to place a number of restrictions on the king, especially with regard to his horses, wives and gold (vv. 16–17). One may note, in addition, that in many respects Chronicles’ account of the kings who enjoy divine favour openly contradicts the restrictions defined in the Law of the King: as noted by some commentators, large families (implying the existence of a royal harem), huge armies as well as hoards of silver and gold (see, e.g., 2 Chr 32:27–29 in the case of Hezekiah) are the very “markers” of a successful reign. See further on this issue the comments in DILLARD, “Reward”. 49 In some ways, the perspective introduced here is furthered in Chronicles’ account of the reigns of some Davidic kings, especially Hezekiah and Josiah. 2 Chr 30 and 35, in

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This conclusion, however, calls for a further comment. Why was it so important for the Chronicler to identify the building of the temple by Solomon with the fulfilment of the law of Deut 12, in ways largely without parallel in Kings? We may argue that this aspect corresponds to a more general trend in Chronicles towards describing the Davidic kings acting in conformity with the Mosaic law, and that this trend points to the growing authority of the Torah at the time of Chronicles’ composition. In this regard, highlighting the conformity between the temple built by Solomon and the central place of Deuteronomy was a logical way for the Chronicler to emphasize for his Judean audience the significance of what he regards as the most important institution in Israel (the Jerusalem temple), while at the same time providing additional authority for his own account of the past. This explanation is certainly correct, but it is also arguably too short. An interpretation of the place of Deut 12 in Chronicles’ account of the temple building under Solomon also needs to take into account the evidence mentioned in the introduction to this essay, which shows that, at the time of the composition of Chronicles (i.e., in the Late Persian / early Hellenistic period) the identity of the central place of Deuteronomy was a disputed issue between Judeans and Samarians.50 Against this background of Judean–Samarian rivalry with respect to the chosen “place”, Chronicles’ description of the building of the temple under Solomon as the fulfilment of the law of Deut 12 would have provided formidable support for the Judeans’ claim that their own temple on Mount Zion was the only legitimate sanctuary. This was reinforced by the facts that (a) the sanctuary on Mount Gerizim was built significantly more recently (around the mid-fifth century BCE) and (b), by contrast with the Jerusalem temple, it could not trace its origins to a prestigious royal figure such as Solomon. The claim to exclusivity culminates in the key passage of 2 Chr 7:12, where the Jerusalem temple is simultaneously defined as the central “place” and the “house of sacrifice” chosen by YHWH. This is a designation which, as discussed above, was applied to other sanctuaries during the Second Temple period, including the sanctuary on Mount Gerizim (in an inscription from the third or second century BCE), but which is reserved here for the temple built by Solomon on the basis of the law of Deut 12. In this regard, the fact that Chronicles’ account of the temple-building under Solomon follows the law of Deuteronomy particular, similarly highlight the role of these two kings in holding a “national” (pan-Israelite) celebration of Passover as a centralized festival in Jerusalem, in accordance with the law of Deut 16:1–8 (itself based on Deut 12). In this regard, the activity of these two kings stands in continuity with Solomon, in that they similarly enforce a centralized cult for “all Israel” at the temple of Jerusalem, in keeping with the general programme of Deuteronomy. 50 See section 1 of this essay above, especially the remarks about the textual evidence pertaining to the reading “Mount Gerizim” in Deut 27:4 as well as to the reading ‫( בחר‬qatal) in Deut 12 as a variant that cannot be regarded as being specifically Samaritan, as was classically assumed.

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more closely than that in Kings does not merely reflect the growing authority of the Mosaic law at the time of the Chronicler; it is also part, simultaneously, of a specific agenda in which key Davidic figures such as Solomon (and, further on, Hezekiah and Josiah) are used to authorize and legitimate a distinctively Judean interpretation and reappropriation of this law.

3. Central Place and Central Space: The Tent of Meeting in Chronicles The law of Deut 12 is, however, only one of the pentateuchal models used by the Chronicler in his retelling of the temple-building under Solomon. Another significant model is provided by the account of the building of the Priestly tabernacle in Exod 25–31 and 35–40, with which the Chronicler’s own account presents several significant parallels. This theme has already been the subject of several detailed studies, and a few general comments will suffice here. Like Moses, who is shown by YHWH the “design” (‫ )תבנית‬of the tabernacle (Exod 25:9, 40; further 27:8), David provides his son Solomon with a design (‫ )תבנית‬for the temple (1 Chr 28:11–19), which he claims to have received “in writing” (‫ )בכתב‬from YHWH himself (1 Chr 28:19).51 While building the temple, Solomon is assisted by a “craftsman” sent by the king of Tyr, Huram-abi, who is described, as various commentators note, in a way clearly reminiscent of the figure of Bezalel in Exod 31 and 36–38; the skills ascribed to Huram-abi in 2 Chr 2:13, in particular, have a close parallel in the description of Bezalel’s skills in Exod 35:32–35.52 Additionally, the relationship between Solomon (as the temple’s maître-d’oeuvre) and his helper Huram-abi is also reminiscent of the relationship between Bezalel and Oholiab in Exod 31 and 35, and appears to have been modelled on it.53 The description of the construction of the 51

The syntax of v. 19 is notoriously difficult. Several commentators construe the phrase

‫עלי‬, “to me”, together with ‫השכיל‬, and understand that YHWH made clear to David the pattern of the temple, which David wrote under divine inspiration (e.g., WILLIAMSON, Chronicles, 183; JAPHET, Chronicles, 498). However, as noted by Knoppers, such a construction is highly unusual in Hebrew, and it is better to take ‫ עלי‬together with its antecedent, ‫( מיד יהוה‬KNOPPERS, I Chronicles, 923; compare also LYNCH, Monotheism, 118–119 n. 165). Consequently, the verse presumably refers to a writing (‫ )מכתב‬given by YHWH to David, and may be translated as follows: “Everything, in writing (has come) to me from the hand of YHWH; he made me understand all the pieces of the plan” (Knoppers). This motif is continued in the Temple Scroll (11QT), see on this, e.g., SWANSON, “Use of Chronicles”, 292–293. 52 See on this especially MOSIS, Untersuchungen, 136–137. As noted by Mosis, the reference to Huram-abi being skilled in “gold, silver, bronze, iron, stone, and wood” as well as various types of fabrics, is not reflected in the parallel passage of 1 Kgs 7:13–14 but has close parallels in the enumeration of Bezalel’s skills in Exod 35:32–35. 53 See on this, e.g., MOSIS, Untersuchungen, 138; DILLARD, 2 Chronicles, 4–5. Like Bezalel and Oholiab, Solomon and Huram-abi supervise the work of various unnamed artisans

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temple itself in 2 Chr 3–4 selectively follows the earlier account of 1 Kgs 6–7 but also conflates it with some motifs derived from the description of the tent of meeting in Exod 25–31 and 35–40;54 a particularly clear example of this is the description of the veil separating the inner sanctuary from the vestibule (‫)אולם‬ in 2 Chr 3:14.55 As in Kings, the building account is immediately followed in 2 Chr 5 by the installation of the ark and the tent of meeting inside Solomon’s temple, increasing the strong sense of continuity between the two sanctuaries. While Chronicles’ description here largely follows the parallel text of 1 Kgs 8:1–11 (see 2 Chr 5:1–11a, 13b), it also adds a reference to the liturgical dedication performed by the Levitical singers and the priests playing the trumpet (vv. 11b–13a), which creates a parallel between the installation of the ark and the tent of meeting under Solomon and the story of the transfer of the ark to Jerusalem under David (1 Chr 15–16), thereby highlighting the significance of this development in Chronicles’ narrative.56 Last but not least, the building account is concluded in Chronicles by two theophanies, in 2 Chr 5:13b–14 and 7:1–3, both of which present close parallels with the theophanies of Exod 40 and Lev 9.57 described as ‫( חכמים‬meaning in this context “able craftsmen”), a phrase already used for the Israelites working on the tent of meeting in Exod 36:4. 54 For a detailed discussion of this phenomenon, see especially the analyses in MOSIS, Untersuchungen, 136–147, and VAN SETERS, “Continuity Theme”. In my view, however, both studies tend to overstate their case, and the influence of Exod 25–31 and 35–40 on Chronicles’ description of the temple is arguably more limited than they claim. Additionally, their comparison is exclusively based on the MT of 1 Kgs 6–7 and 2 Chr 3–4, and does not pay enough attention to the fact that there are significant differences between the LXX and the MT in both accounts. A comprehensive discussion of this theme should therefore include a comparison between 1 Kgs 6–7 MT and LXX and 2 Chr 3–4 MT and LXX; in addition, it should also consider the differences between the versions of Exod 35–40 preserved in MT, LXX, as well as in one Old Latin manuscript (the Monacensis), which similarly present several important differences (a point also ignored by Mosis and Van Seters). In spite of these qualifications, the trend identified in these studies of conflating the description of the temple in Kings with the description of the tent of meeting in Exodus remains unmistakable in Chronicles’ account. 55 This motif openly contradicts the account of Kings, in which the inner sanctuary (‫)דביר‬ and the vestibule (‫ )אולם‬are separated by wooden doors (1 Kgs 6:31–32), but it aligns with the description of the wilderness sanctuary in Exod 36:31 and 36:35 MT, in which the inner sanctum and the outer sanctum are similarly separated by a veil decorated with cherubim. See MOSIS, Untersuchungen, 143–144; VAN SETERS, “Continuity Theme”, 292–293; and compare also WILLIAMSON, Chronicles, 209; JOHNSTONE, Chronicles, vol. 1, 320. 56 See on this especially WILLIAMSON, Chronicles, 214–215, with a detailed list of the parallels between 2 Chr 5:11b–13a and 1 Chr 15–16. In addition to the parallel descriptions of the Levites and their liturgical roles in both accounts, note that 2 Chr 5:13a ends with a quotation from the Psalms (‫ )כי לעולם חסדו‬which already occurs towards the end of the grand hymn (itself an anthology of various psalms) in 1 Chr 16:8–36 (see 16:34). 57 The first theophany, in 2 Chr 5:13b–14 (cf. 1 Kgs 8:11), recounts that, after the completion of the building and the installation of the ark and of the tent of meeting, the temple was filled (‫ )מלא‬with YHWH’s “cloud” (‫ )ענן‬and “glory” (‫)כבוד‬, and is clearly reminiscent of the

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In short, the evidence summarized here points to the existence of various related strategies in Chronicles for coordinating the Jerusalem temple with the tent of meeting, and for highlighting the general continuity between the two institutions. As a result, the temple built by Solomon is represented in Chronicles as the legitimate heir and successor of the wilderness sanctuary, the very site where the Israelite cult of Mosaic times was effectively continued in monarchic times – and presumably beyond, from the Chronicler’s perspective. While Chronicles’ attempt to align Solomon’s temple with the tent of meeting has some precedents in Kings,58 the extent to which this trend has been developed in Chronicles goes well beyond Kings’ account. In this regard, Chronicles’ description of the Jerusalem temple as standing in continuity with the tabernacle anticipates the conception, more fully developed in the Temple Scroll, of the divine commands for the temple to be built in the land by the Israelites being similarly modelled on the commands given to Moses in Exod 25–31 for the building of the tabernacle (see 11QT III–XIII and XXX–XLVI).59 In this way, the Chronicler highlights the legitimacy of the Jerusalem temple built by Solomon, by creating an account that effectively combines the two main models, or templates, for the Israelite cult in the Pentateuch: the central place of Deuteronomy, on the one hand, and the Priestly tabernacle, on the other. Yet the issue is more complex, in a sense, because the references to the Priestly tabernacle are associated in Chronicles with a concept of centralization theophany described in Exod 40:34–35 where these three terms already occur together. The same description is repeated in the second theophany of 2 Chr 7:1–3, which has no counterpart in Kings, but is now augmented with the mention of a fire (‫ )אש‬coming down from the heavens to “devour” (‫ )אכל‬the sacrifices offered on the altar while the “glory” (‫ )כבוד‬of YHWH is manifested before the entire community assembled at the central altar (2 Chr 7:3). This description, for its part, is clearly reminiscent of the account already found in Lev 9:23–24, which concludes the inauguration of the sacrificial cult at Mount Sinai. The parallel between Lev 9 and 2 Chr 7 is further emphasized by the fact that, in both accounts, the divine glory is seen by the entire community assembled around the altar, a notion with no parallel in Kings (WILLIAMSON, Chronicles, 223). In this way, the second theophany of 2 Chr 7 combines references to both Exod 40 and Lev 9, as noted, e.g., by ABADIE, David, 365–366. One may note, finally, that these parallels are all the more significant because the theophanies of Exod 40 and Lev 9 already have a central structuring role in the Priestly account; see on this my discussion in NIHAN, Priestly Torah, 89–92. 58 A similar concern for coordinating the Jerusalem temple with the Priestly sanctuary is suggested, in particular, by the account of the installation of the ark and the tent of meeting in 1 Kgs 8:1–11, which is reproduced in 2 Chr 5:2–13 (with a supplement in vv. 11b–13a, as noted above, as well as with some minor changes). The account of 1 Kgs 8:1–11 is often regarded as consisting of an old kernel that has been significantly reworked and expanded by later Priestly (and possibly Deuteronomistic) editors; compare, e.g., the detailed discussion by WÜRTHWEIN, Könige, 84–91. 59 See on this already the comments by YADIN, Temple Scroll, vol. 1, esp. 178ff. Note, however, that in the Temple Scroll this temple is never expressly identified with the temple built by Solomon, contrary to the conception expressed in Chronicles.

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that is markedly distinct from the Deuteronomic one. This issue has not always received much attention in the scholarly literature, but is quite significant for the present essay and deserves, therefore, a brief discussion. In Kings, the tent of meeting is merely mentioned in the context of its installation in the temple built by Solomon (1 Kgs 8:1–11). Apart from a late gloss in 1 Sam 2:22b, which mentions the tent of meeting in Shilo, nothing is said in Samuel-Kings about the previous location(s) of this sanctuary before its transfer to Jerusalem60. In Chronicles, by contrast, this motif has been significantly developed, by means of two accounts (1 Chr 16:39–42 and 2 Chr 1:2–6) which mention the presence of the tent of meeting in Gibeon. In a sense, this motif forms part of a broader historiographical trend in the Second Temple period, since other postexilic traditions appear to be similarly concerned with the location of the tent of meeting in the land of Israel post-Sinai.61 Yet the distinctive feature of Chronicles’ account is that the location of the tent of meeting in Gibeon is now associated with the existence of a regular sacrificial cult even before the building of the temple in Jerusalem by Solomon. In particular, 1 Chr 16:39–42 recounts that, after the transfer of the ark to Jerusalem, David established “the priest Zadok and his kinsmen the priests before the tabernacle of YHWH [‫]משכן יהוה‬, at the high place that is in Gibeon” (1 Chr 16:39), and assigned them the task of presenting the ‫עלה תמיד‬, the regular burnt offering (16:40).62 The phrase ‫ משכן יהוה‬is already used in P (and only there) to refer to the wilderness sanctuary (tabernacle);63 this identification 60 1 Sam 2:22b is missing from both the Old Greek of Samuel (e.g., LXXB) and 4QSama, and arguably represents, therefore, a very late addition to the Samuel tradition. Additionally, 2 Sam 7:6–7 may allude to the Priestly tent of meeting (although this point is not entirely clear), but the passage says nothing about the specific location of this tent before its installation in Jerusalem. 61 In particular, various postexilic traditions associate the tent of meeting with the Israelite sanctuary in Shilo (Josh 18:1; 2 Sam 2:22b MT [see above, note 60]; Ps 78:60), whereas one gloss in Judges appears to locate it in Bethel (Judg 20:28). However, the association of the tent of meeting with the site of Gibeon is specific to the Chronicler, and presumably derives from the earlier account of 1 Kgs 3:4 where Gibeon is already presented as the main sacrificial site prior to the building of the temple in Jerusalem; see, e.g., KNOPPERS, I Chronicles, 652. The alternative view that Chronicles’ account would reflect here an old tradition is unwarranted in my opinion. For this view, compare, e.g., WILLIAMSON, Chronicles, 130–131 (which mentions it as a possibility); more recently, STREET, Ark Narrative, 28–29 (with references to other scholars). 62 It has occasionally been argued that this passage comprises a later interpolation or, alternatively, that the Chronicler has used a discrete source here (for a recent reassessment of the latter view, see STREET, Ark Narrative, 28–29). In my opinion, both views are unsupported and unnecessary; the language and significance of the passage are quite consistent with Chronicles’ narrative. 63 See Lev 17:4; Num 16:9; 17:28; 19:13; 31:30, 47 and Josh 22:19; the latter passage is part of the “Priestly” edition of the book of Joshua in Josh 13–22. The term ‫ משכן‬is also frequently used in the Priestly portions of Exodus, Leviticus and Numbers in connection with the tent of meeting.

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is further confirmed by the following account in 2 Chr 1, which mentions the presence of the “tent of meeting” (‫ )אהל מועד‬in Gibeon, and equates it with the tabernacle (‫משכן יהוה‬, 2 Chr 1:5). The ‫עלה תמיד‬, for its part, is a basic feature of P’s concept of the sacrificial cult.64 Furthermore, Chronicles’ account insists that the regular burnt offerings are sacrificed by Zadoq and the other priests established by David “according to all that was written in the Torah of YHWH, which he enjoined upon Israel” (1 Chr 16:40b), and are therefore perfectly legitimate; the expression presumably refers to the ritual prescriptions concerning the offering of the sacrifices defined in the Mosaic law (compare 2 Chr 23:18).65 This conception is continued in the account of Solomon’s pilgrimage to Gibeon in 2 Chr 1. Whereas the parallel account in 1 Kgs 3 explained that Solomon went to Gibeon because it was the main high place in Israel at this time (‫כי היא הבמה הגדולה‬, 1 Kgs 3:4a), Chronicles retains from Kings the designation of Gibeon as a ‫במה‬, “high place”, but then provides an entirely new motivation for Solomon’s decision to offer his sacrifices at Gibeon: “for [‫ ]כי‬there was the tent of meeting of God, which Moses, the servant of YHWH, made in the wilderness” (v. 3b). After a parenthetical remark on the ark (2 Chr 1:4), the account proceeds to explain that Solomon offered “a thousand burnt offerings” (cf. 1 Kgs 3:4b) on the bronze altar that was built by Bezalel (2 Chr 1:5–6; see Exod 38:1–8). In Chronicles’ account, therefore, Solomon’s sacrifices at Gibeon are now justified by the fact that they are offered on the site where the tent of meeting was temporarily stationed, as the formulation of 2 Chr 1:3b already implies.66 This point is further highlighted by the fact that Solomon’s sacrifice in Gibeon is no longer presented in Chronicles as a private initiative, as in the account of 1 Kgs 3, but as a pilgrimage of national significance which takes place in the presence of “all the assembly” (‫ – )כל הקהל‬typically a marker of major events in Chronicles.67 Taken together, these observations provide some important evidence regarding the significance of the tent of meeting in Chronicles. In Kings, sacrifices offered outside Jerusalem are automatically declared to be illicit, and this conception also applies to those sacrifices offered before the building of the temple in Jerusalem, as the notice in 1 Kgs 3:2 makes clear. Chronicles adheres to this view as far as the period following the building of the temple is concerned, although it places significantly less emphasis on the sacrifices offered at the 64

See Exod 29:38–42; further Num 28:3–8; see on this MILGROM, Numbers, 237–240, further KNOPPERS, I Chronicles, 653. 65 The waw before ‫ לכל‬should probably be taken as a waw explicativum. 66 As noted, e.g., by JAPHET, Ideology, 227 (“Solomon’s sacrifice is no longer questionable”); KNOWLES, Centrality, 37; LYNCH, Monotheism, 98. 67 DILLARD, 2 Chronicles, 11; JAPHET, Chronicles, 525. In addition, WILLIAMSON, Chronicles, 193–194, aptly notes the parallel with the beginning of David’s reign in Chronicles, where David similarly gathers “all Israel” to seek the ark (1 Chr 13:1–6).

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‫ במות‬than Kings;68 but for the period preceding the building of the temple, the situation is markedly distinct. From the Chronicler’s perspective, Gibeon was a legitimate cultic site because the tent of meeting was temporarily located there before it was transferred to Jerusalem, and because the sacrifices offered in Gibeon were offered according to the ritual prescriptions defined in the Torah (1 Chr 16:40). By contrast, Chronicles’ account never mentions the existence of regular sacrifices in Jerusalem prior to the installation of the tent of meeting in the temple. Although David himself is presented on two occasions as offering sacrifices in Jerusalem (in 1 Chr 16:1–2, following the transfer of the ark, and in 1 Chr 21:26, following the construction of an altar on the site where Solomon will later build the temple), these sacrifices are clearly exceptional and are not meant to be repeated.69 Furthermore, although in Chronicles’ account David already establishes cultic officials from Levitical families to watch over the ark and perform various rituals (1 Chr 15:16–24), at that stage of the narrative their role remains strictly liturgical. This point is clear, in particular, in the statement found in 1 Chr 16:4, where the Levites appointed by David are tasked to “commemorate” (‫ זכר‬Hiphil), “give thanks” (‫ ידה‬Hiphil) and “give praise” (‫ הלל‬Hiphil) to YHWH.70 No reference is made here to the performance of sacrifices in Jerusalem in connection with the presence of the ark in the city; instead, the offering of these sacrifices remains the exclusive prerogative of the priests appointed by David in Gibeon for the service of the tabernacle. It appears, therefore, that for the Chronicler Gibeon was the only site where regular sacrifices could legitimately be offered to YHWH, as long as the tent of meeting was stationed there. S. Japhet, in particular, has argued that the main purpose of the conception associating the tabernacle with Gibeon would be to “present a line of unbroken continuity in the cultic establishment of Israel from its inception by Moses to the kingdom of David and Solomon”.71 Yet this view is questionable. No 68

See on this, e.g., the discussion in JAPHET, Ideology, 217–221. In addition, the mention of David’s sacrifices in Jerusalem in 1 Chr 16:1–2 follows the parallel account of 2 Sam 6:17–18, and these sacrifices anyway take place before the establishment of the regular cult in Gibeon (16:39–42). In the case of 1 Chr 21:26, this passage is followed by a comment in vv. 28–30 explaining that the reason why David did not offer his sacrifices at the tent of meeting located in Gibeon was because he was “terrified” by the angel of YHWH and his sword. Although there are good reasons to regard this as a later addition to the account in 1 Chr 21 (KNOPPERS, I Chronicles, 759–760; but contrast RUDOLPH, Chronikbücher, 148–149; WILLIAMSON, Chronicles, 151), the comment is nonetheless consistent with the general view laid out in Chronicles according to which Gibeon was, in effect, the only legitimate place for sacrifices prior to the building of the temple in Jerusalem by Solomon. 70 On this aspect of Chronicles’ account, see especially the comments by JAPHET, Ideology, 227–228; further KNOPPERS, I Chronicles, 641–642, 659 (“the ministry of the Ark is basically one of commemoration, thanksgiving, and praise [16:4]”). This point was already noted by RUDOLPH, Chronikbücher, 121. 71 JAPHET, Chronicles, 323. A little later, she comments: “This unbroken continuity of a central cult is an essential component of the Chronicler’s general view of the history of the 69

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previous location for the tabernacle is mentioned in Chronicles before Gibeon and, above all, it is unclear that Chronicles’ account implies that regular sacrifices were offered wherever the tabernacle was stationed between Mount Sinai and Jerusalem. On the contrary, 1 Chr 16 insists on the role of David in establishing priests in Gibeon who will offer sacrifices before the tabernacle “according to all that was written in the Torah of YHWH” (16:39–40). A more likely explanation, therefore, is that the purpose of this theme in Chronicles is to trace the practice of a regular sacrificial cult back to David himself, even before the building of the temple by his son Solomon, so that the beginning of the Davidic dynasty coincides in Chronicles with the resumption of the sacrificial cult inaugurated by Moses in the wilderness.72 This development, however, simultaneously implies a significant revision of the conception of cult centralization found in Deuteronomy,73 since the existence of a centralized cult is no longer exclusively associated in Chronicles with a single place. In his recent commentary, G. Knoppers rightly notes the importance of the association of the tabernacle with Gibeon for Chronicles’ conception of the cult;74 but he then seeks to reconcile this motif with the Deuteronomic ideology of centralization by suggesting that, for the Chronicler, “Gibeon, for a few decades at least, qualifies as ‘the place that Yhwh your God shall choose … to bring your burnt offerings and other sacrifices’ (Deut 12:5–6)”.75 Yet this view has little support in the passages of Chronicles referring to the tabernacle in Gibeon, and may arguably still be too much influenced by the classical theory that Deut 12 is the cornerstone of any discourse about cult centralization in the biblical traditions.76 What is remarkable in Chronicles is precisely the fact that the passages describing a regular sacrificial cult in Gibeon (1 Chr 16 and 2 Chr 1) contain no references to Deuteronomy’s law of centralization whatsoever;77 instead, cult”. Compare also her comments in eadem, Ideology, 226–227. Japhet’s thesis follows the earlier interpretation of the place of cult centralization in Chronicles’ view of Israelite history advocated by KAUFMANN, Religion (1977), 471ff. 72 This conception is fully consistent with the general tendency in Chronicles, already noted by several scholars, to represent David as a second Moses, especially with regard to David’s role as founder of the Israelite cult; compare, e.g., DE VRIES, “Moses”. 73 A point well made by JAPHET, Chronicles, 528, which describes Chronicles’ conception of the tabernacle in Gibeon as “very much in opposition to the well-known Deuteronomistic approach”. 74 KNOPPERS, I Chronicles, 660. In particular, Knoppers aptly observes in this regard that the Chronicler “does not take it for granted that centralized sacrifice, when it first occurred, had to occur in Jerusalem” (ibid.). 75 Ibid. 76 See above, section 1 of this essay. 77 KNOPPERS, I Chronicles, 660, apparently suggests that the reference to the regular burnt offerings being sacrificed “according to all that is written in the Torah of YHWH” in 1 Chr 16:40 would point to the law of Deut 12. However, as noted above, this is more likely to be a reference to the ritual prescriptions for the offering of burnt sacrifices in the Mosaic law.

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the centralized cult in Gibeon is exclusively expressed through the mention of the wilderness sanctuary (‫ משכן יהוה‬or ‫)אהל מועד‬,78 its furnishings (the bronze altar),79 and the corresponding sacrifices defined by YHWH at Mount Sinai (the ‫)עלה תמיד‬.80 This observation, in turn, has some significant implications for the discussion of cult centralization in the Pentateuch and in Chronicles. While a number of scholars have argued that the Priestly tent of meeting would reflect a more decentralized conception of the sacrificial cult, as noted at the outset of this essay,81 there is certainly no support for this view in Chronicles. On the contrary, the tabernacle in Chronicles’ account is always exclusively associated with a fully centralized form of sacrificial worship: while non-sacrificial rituals may be performed at other sites, as the account of the transfer of the ark to Jerusalem in 1 Chr 15–16 implies, the tent of meeting is the only place where regular sacrifices may legitimately be presented to the deity.82 What is more, Chronicles’ association of the tent of meeting with a central cult did not even require the combining of the Priestly conception with the Deuteronomic one; for the Chronicler, the relationship between the tent of meeting and cult centralization was apparently evident from the description of this sanctuary in Exodus, Leviticus and Numbers. At the same time, however, the conception of cult centralization that is articulated in Chronicles in relation to the tent of meeting is markedly distinct from the one expressed in Deuteronomy. The centralized cult associated with the tent of meeting in Chronicles’ account is not identified with a single place, as in Deuteronomy, but with a specific space – the tent itself – which 78

1 Chr 16:39; 2 Chr 1:3, 5, 6. 2 Chr 1:5, 6. 80 1 Chr 16:40. In 2 Chr 1:6 the reference to the “thousand burnt offerings” sacrificed by Solomon in Gibeon follows the parallel account in 1 Kgs 3:4. 81 See the references given above, section 1 of this essay. 82 KNOPPERS, I Chronicles, 660–661, rightly notes in this regard that “in the Chronicler’s understanding of Israelite law and lore, there can be multiple sites of Yahwistic worship, but only one legitimate place of (animal) sacrifice”. He further proposes to relate this conception to the compromise reached in the Elephantine correspondence, in which the support of the governors of Judah and Samaria for the rebuilding of the altar in Elephantine is apparently conditional upon the requirement that the Judean community in Elephantine will only offer on the altar cereal offering, drink offerings and incense (TAD A4.9). This is a valuable suggestion, and I agree that the Elephantine correspondence provides a significant context for interpreting Chronicles’ conception of the cult. At the same time, however, some qualifications are in order. First, 1 Chr 15–16 says nothing about non-animal sacrifices, and appears to envision a form of worship strictly limited to liturgy (prayers, hymns and music). Second, the account of King Uzziah in 2 Chr 26:16–20 appears to reserve the offering of incense to the priests officiating in the temple of Jerusalem (see v. 18). Thus, although there are some significant connections between the conception of cult centralization stated in the Elephantine correspondence and the one developed in Chronicles, the two conceptions appear, nevertheless, to be distinct. 79

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can be installed in various cultic sites, such as Gibeon and Jerusalem.83 In this way, Chronicles’ account manages to promote a thoroughly centralized view of the Israelite cult under David and Solomon, which is however more nuanced than the one expressed in Deuteronomy (or, for that matter, in Kings) since it acknowledges the possibility that sacrifices could legitimately be offered outside Jerusalem before the building of the temple. In the end, to be sure, the Priestly conception of a centralized space (identified with the portable tent of meeting) and the Deuteronomic conception of a central place (identified with the temple of Jerusalem) are eventually harmonized in Chronicles’ narrative, when the tent of meeting is installed in the temple built by Solomon (2 Chr 5:2–14), itself identified with the central place of Deuteronomy (2 Chr 7:12–16). Yet what is remarkable nonetheless is that Chronicles still preserves much of the distinctiveness of the conceptions of cult centralization which, in the Torah, are associated with the Priestly and Deuteronomic traditions respectively.

4. Centralization and the Aaronite Dynasty: The Polemics against the Northern Cult in 2 Chronicles 13 Finally, Abijah’s speech in 2 Chr 13 deserves a brief discussion in the context of this study, because it illustrates yet another aspect of the reuse of pentateuchal traditions to express cult centralization in Chronicles. The account of 2 Chr 13 has no parallel in Kings (although it presupposes the notice on Abijam’s reign in 1 Kgs 15:1–8), and represents an original composition by the Chronicler.84 In midrashic fashion, Chronicles’ account draws upon the brief notice in 1 Kgs 15:7b (reproduced in 2 Chr 13:2b), according to which “there was war [‫ ]מלחמה‬between Abijam and Jeroboam”, to narrate in detail the military confrontation between the two kings as well as the subsequent victory of Abijah in spite of military (13:3) and strategic (13:13–14) inferiority.85 83

The distinction between “place” and “space” is well established in social-scientific studies, and can even be said to have been instrumental in the development of the field of human geography. On this topic, see TUAN, Space and Place; further, e.g., RELPH, Place and Placelessness, 8–28; more recently, CRESSWELL, Place, esp. 8–10. I am very grateful to my student Julia Rhyder for providing me with these references, as well as for discussing some of these issues with me. 84 The main study of this passage remains KNOPPERS, “Battling”; more recently, see also idem, “Mt Gerizim”, 315–321. In addition to the commentaries, see also DEBOYS, “History”, as well as more recently ABADIE, “Identité”, esp. 194–199. The possibility that the Chronicler had access here to some sort of historical source cannot be entirely excluded (e.g., DILLARD, 2 Chronicles, 105–106; further, DEBOYS, “History”), although it is rather unlikely in my opinion. Since the following discussion focuses on Abijah’s speech, which has long been recognized to present many typical Chronistic features, this issue is unimportant in any event. 85 According to 1 Chr 13:3, Abijah’s army consists of 400,000 men, against 800,000 for Jeroboam. Additionally, 1 Chr 13:13–14 recounts that Abijah’s troops were ambushed by Jeroboam. These devices are meant to highlight the general point of the account, namely,

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Abijah’s speech (2 Chr 13:4–12) takes place before the battle, in the hill country of Ephraim, and is addressed to “Jeroboam and all Israel” (v. 4). It consists of two main parts, vv. 5–7 and 8–11, followed by a conclusion (v. 12).86 The first part begins by asserting that the Davidic dynasty is the sole legitimate Israelite dynasty. YHWH gave the “kingship over Israel” (‫ )ממלכה על ישראל‬to David and his sons “forever” (‫)לעולם‬, as a “covenant of salt”, i.e., an everlasting covenant (v. 5); this basic claim is continued in vv. 6–7 with a brief retelling of the story of the secession, whose function is not only to depict Jeroboam in a negative light but also to invalidate any assumption that Jeroboam would enjoy divine support.87 The second part of Abijah’s speech opposes the royal cults practised in the northern and southern kingdoms, and describes the northern cult as a degenerate version of the legitimate cult upheld in the south (more on this below). The juxtaposition of the two parts of Abijah’s speech effectively implies that there is a close relationship between the prerogative of the Davidides to rule over Israel (and not merely Judah) and the maintenance in Jerusalem of a legitimate, centralized cult. This aspect is further highlighted in the transitional verse 8, which introduces the second part of Abijah’s speech by returning to the motif (announced in v. 5) of the kingship conferred on David and his sons by YHWH, but speaks now of “the kingship of YHWH which is in the hands of the sons of David” (‫)ממלכת יהוה ביד בני דויד‬. This formulation positions the Davidic kings as vice-regents of the King YHWH,88 effectively implying that the primary obligation of the Davidic kings is toward the cult. The whole that Judah’s victory was achieved not by military strength but, rather, by their loyalty to YHWH in the celebration of the cult and the preservation of the legitimate rites. See below. 86 The division of Abijah’s speech is complicated by the fact that v. 8 has a transitional function, and takes up the topic of v. 5 (the kingship conferred on David) to introduce the second part of the speech. Nonetheless, the division between vv. 5–7 and 8–11 is clearly suggested by the occurrence of a rhetorical emphasis, ‫ועתה‬, at the beginning of v. 8. The division between vv. 8–11 and 12 is justified, in turn, by the appearance of a new rhetorical emphasis at the beginning of v. 12 (‫)והנה‬, as noted by JAPHET, Chronicles, 690. Japhet proposes, however, to identify v. 12 as the third part of Abijah’s speech, but the resulting structure is not very balanced since this third part (consisting of v. 12 alone) is significantly shorter than the first two. A better solution, in my view, is to take v. 12 as the conclusion to the speech, which simultaneously sums up the main theme (YHWH is with Judah, which has kept the right ordinances, so the defeat of Jeroboam’s army is inescapable) while making the transition towards the subsequent account of the battle in vv. 13–19. Note, in this regard, the reference to the priests sounding the trumpets ahead of Judah’s army in v. 12a, which simultaneously continues the reference to the Aaronite priests in vv. 9–11 while pointing to their role in the coming battle. 87 For an excellent analysis of the rhetoric of Jeroboam’s portrayal in vv. 6–7, see BEN ZVI, “Secession”, 128. 88 This conception, as well as the statement found in v. 8, are fully consistent with the general view of the relationship between YHWH’s kingship and the Davidic dynasty found in Chronicles; see on this the comprehensive discussion by JAPHET, Ideology, 395–411.

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conception exposed here culminates in a conclusion (v. 12) where Abijah warns Jeroboam and his army that they “cannot succeed” against Judah because they are fighting against YHWH himself. It has long been recognized that Abijah’s speech, which takes place shortly after the story of the secession (2 Chr 10), has a central programmatic function in Chronicles. Earlier authors often assumed that Abijah’s speech comprised an anti-Samaritan polemic, reflecting in this regard the conflicts between Judah and Samaria in the postexilic period;89 but this approach has now been abandoned. Instead, scholars have recognized that Abijah’s speech evinces a clear pan-Israelite perspective: the northerners are described as “sons of Israel”, who worship YHWH as “the god of their fathers” (v. 12).90 Moreover, as convincingly shown by Knoppers, this conception does not merely characterize Abijah’s speech but may be extended to the account of the battle, which is presented itself as an intra-Israelite conflict.91 Read in this light, the actual theme of 2 Chr 13 is not the separation between the southern and northern kingdoms but, rather, the struggle for political supremacy between two kingdoms that are considered to be part of the same ethnic entity. Furthermore, although in 2 Chr 13 this struggle for political supremacy is eventually settled on the battlefield, the account highlights the point that Judah’s victory is not based upon its military strength but, rather, its cultic orthopraxis. Abijah’s speech makes clear that YHWH is with Judah, not Israel, because Judah has kept the ritual observances, whereas the northern kingdom under Jeroboam has “forsaken” (‫ )עזב‬them (2 Chr 13:9–11). Accordingly, in the subsequent account of the battle, it is YHWH who fights for the Judahites and gives them the victory, despite their military and strategic inferiority (2 Chr 13:15, 16, further 13:18), as was already foretold in the concluding statement of Abijah’s speech (v. 12). In 2 Chr 13, therefore, the struggle for political supremacy between Judah and Israel is first and foremost construed as a struggle between two cultic entities, one associated with Jeroboam in the north, the other with the Davidic dynasty (represented here by Abijah) in the south. At this point, it becomes necessary to look more closely at the way in which the opposition between the cult of Judah and the cult of the northern kingdom is expressed in the second part of Abijah’s speech (2 Chr 13:8–11, 12), which constitutes the key passage of the entire account. [8] And now, you are planning to muster your strength in front of the kingdom of YHWH which is in the hands of the sons of David, because you are a great multitude and have with 89

See, e.g, RUDOLPH, Chronikbücher, 238; also WELTEN, Geschichte, 127–129, which suggests relating the cities captured by Judah in v. 19 with postexilic territorial claims. For a general presentation of this earlier scholarly trend, see KNOPPERS, “Battling”, 513, with additional references. 90 See especially WILLIAMSON, Israel, 111–114; compare also JAPHET, Ideology, 318– 319, 325–334. For a recent restatement of this view, cf. ABADIE, “Identité”, 194–199. 91 KNOPPERS, “Battling”.

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you the golden calves that Jeroboam made as gods for you. [9] Have you not driven away the priests of YHWH, the sons of Aaron, together with the Levites? And have you not established priests for yourselves, like the peoples of the lands?92 Whoever comes to be consecrated with a young bull and seven rams becomes a priest of what are no gods. [10] But as for us, YHWH is our god and we have not forsaken him: the priests who keep the charge of YHWH are the sons of Aaron, and the Levites fulfil their duties.93 [11] They offer to YHWH burnt offerings every morning and every evening, as well as fragrant incense; (they set out) the stacks of bread upon the pure table,94 together with the golden lampstand and its lamps, so that they may burn every evening. For we are keeping the service of YHWH our god, whereas you have forsaken him. [12] – See, God is with us at our head, and his priests have trumpets to sound the (battle) shout against you: O children of Israel, do not fight with YHWH, the God of your fathers, for you will not succeed!

The critique of the northern cult opens in v. 8b with a reference to the golden calves of Jeroboam, which alludes to the account in Kings of the cultic innovations introduced by the northern king at the shrines of Dan and Bethel (1 Kgs 12:25–33; 13:1–3, 31–34; 14:7–16).95 But the following exposition in vv. 9–12 is almost entirely based upon, and derived from, various passages in the Pentateuch referring to the priestly service at the tent of meeting, even though the expressions ‫ משכן‬and ‫ אהל מועד‬do not occur in 2 Chr 13.96 This 92

LXX: “from the people of all the land”. The phrase ‫ והלוים במלאכת‬is grammatically problematic, since the form ‫במלאכת‬ is otherwise never used in the Hebrew Bible in the absolute state. The Hebrew is therefore textually corrupt here. The best explanation arguably remains that a suffixed waw has disappeared because of a haplography with the beginning of the following word, ‫ומקטרים‬ (RUDOLPH, Chronikbücher, 236, following Ehrlich). The referent is presumably YHWH here, compare 1 Chr 26:30 where ‫ מלאכת יהוה‬is used as a general designation for all the “matters of YHWH”; the original reading *bml’ktw would therefore have meant that the Levites “are at work [= fulfil their duties] for him [YHWH]”. Alternatively, some commentators assume that the referent would have been the Aaronite priests mentioned immediately before, but in this case we must assume that the suffixed pronoun was -yw (since the Levites are the subject), and the use of the term ml’kh to refer to the work done by the Levites for the priests would be unusual. Another possibility is to read “in their courses” with the LXX (ἐν ταῖς ἐφημερίαις αὐτῶν), which would reflect the Hebrew bmhlqwtyw (or bmhlqwtm); see especially KNOPPERS, “Mt Gerizim”, 329–330 n. 29, for a solid argument in favour of this case. However, it is not entirely clear how an original form bmhlqwtyw developed into MT’s bml’kt, and it seems easier to assume that the LXX read here bmhlqwtyw because the original form *bml’ktw had become corrupted at an early stage of the text’s transmission. 94 Hebrew m‘rkt appears to be a variant form of the term ma‘ărākāh, which normally refers to a row. However, since the passage appears to concern the ritual for the bread of presence, this rendering makes little sense here, as noted by various commentators. Compare, in particular, the detailed discussion by MILGROM, Leviticus 23–27, 2096, on Lev 24:6, 7, where the m‘rkt is already used for the arrangement of the bread of presence; and further on 2 Chr 13:11, e.g., DILLARD, 2 Chronicles, 104, which similarly observes that m‘rkt must refer here to “stacks” rather than “rows”. 95 Compare also 2 Chr 11:15, which, however, mentions “goats” (‫שעירים‬, presumably referring here to satyrs) made by Jeroboam in addition to the calves. 96 For a detailed analysis of the parallels between this passage and the Priestly tabernacle, see KNOPPERS, “Battling”, 519–522. 93

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phenomenon is particularly manifest in v. 11, which describes the legitimate cult of Judah in opposition to the illicit cult established by Jeroboam in the north. In effect, this verse enumerates four rituals regularly performed in the Judahite cult, all of which are already prescribed in the texts of the Pentateuch referring to the priestly service in the tent of meeting. (1) The priests making (with ‫ קטר‬Hiphil) burnt offerings (‫“ )עלות‬every morning and every evening” corresponds to the prescription of the regular burnt offering in Exod 29:38–42 (see further Num 28:3–8). (2) The mention of ‫ קטרת סמים‬in 2 Chr 13:11 appears to refer in this context to the regular offering of incense, as prescribed in Exod 30:7; additionally, outside Chronicles the expression ‫קטרת סמים‬ occurs exclusively in P.97 (3) The mention of the “bread” (‫ )לחם‬set out on the “pure table” corresponds to the disposal of the “bread of the presence” (‫)לחם פנים‬ upon the golden table located inside the inner sanctum (Exod 25:30; further Lev 24:5–9); the expression “the pure table” (‫ )השלחן הטהור‬in 2 Chr 13:11 is already found in Lev 24:6. (4) Finally, the reference to the golden “lampstand” (‫ )מנורה‬which, together with its “lamps” (‫)נר‬, burns “every evening” is similarly consistent with the prescriptions regarding the ‫ מנורה‬in the Priestly traditions of the Pentateuch.98 This instance, as noted by some authors, is particularly significant because the reference to a single lampstand is a distinctive feature of the Priestly tabernacle; elsewhere, Chronicles follows Kings in mentioning not one but ten lampstands (1 Chr 28:15; 2 Chr 4:7, 20; cf. 1 Kgs 7:49).99 Chronicles’ reliance on the Priestly description of the service in the tent of meeting is all the more obvious when we note that the four rituals enumerated in 2 Chr 13:11 effectively correspond to the main regular, daily rituals prescribed in the Priestly legislation of the Pentateuch.100 In addition, the description of 2 Chr 13:11 concludes with the assertion that the priests officiating in Judah “keep the service” (‫ )שמר משמרת‬of YHWH, a phrase already used in P to express the entirety of the service performed by the Aaronite priests in the tent of meeting.101 It must be noted, however, that even though the parallels with the rituals associated with the tent of meeting in the Pentateuch are particularly significant in 2 Chr 13:11, they are not restricted to this single verse but permeate the 97

Exod 30:7; 40:27; Lev 16:12. See Exod 25:31–40; 27:20–21; further Exod 40:24–25; Lev 24:1–4; Num 8:1–4. The mention in 2 Chr 13:11 of the lamps burning “every evening” (‫בערב בערב‬, literally “from evening to evening”) corresponds to the prescription found in Exod 27:20–21 (see further Lev 24:1–4), which is presented as an “everlasting statute” for the Israelites. 99 JAPHET, Chronicles, 694–695; KNOPPERS, “Battling”, 520. 100 In addition, JAPHET, Chronicles, 694, notes the close parallel between this description and the account of Exod 40:22–29 MT, which similarly mentions four rituals accomplished by Moses after he erected the tabernacle: Moses sets out the bread (v. 23), lights the lamps of the lampstand (v. 25), burns incense on the golden altar (v. 27), and makes burnt and cereal offerings on the bronze altar (v. 29). 101 See especially Num 18:3, 4, 5; and compare Lev 8:35. 98

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entire description in the second part of Abijah’s speech. In particular, the opposition between southern and northern priesthoods in vv. 9 and 10 implies that the only priests who can legitimately officiate are those who can claim an Aaronite lineage, a notion which already plays a central role in the Priestly traditions.102 The phrase ‫מלא יד‬, which is used in v. 9b with reference to the investiture of the northern priests under Jeroboam, is a typical Priestly idiom for the consecration of the Aaronite priests.103 Additionally, the fact that the ritual, in this case, involves one bull and seven rams appears to caricature the ritual for the investiture of Aaron and his sons in Exod 29 and Lev 8, which uses one bull and two rams.104 Finally, while the association of priests with trumpets (‫ )חצצרות‬in v. 12a has parallels in other passages of Chronicles,105 the blowing of trumpets when going to war against an enemy (cf. ‫ )להריע עליכם‬is particularly reminiscent of Num 10:9 and 31:6. The expression used in 2 Chr 13:12, ‫חצצרות התרועה‬, occurs otherwise only in Num 31:6 and arguably refers to the “trumpets of alarm” that the priests must sound in time of war, as prescribed in Num 10:9.106 The general point implied by the reference to various rituals associated with the tabernacle in this section of Abijah’s speech is clear. The cult established by the Davidic kings in Judah is the only legitimate cult, because it perpetuates that which was initially revealed to Israel through Moses in the wilderness; by contrast, the northern cult established by Jeroboam after the secession of the northern tribes no longer follows the Mosaic law, and is described instead as being simultaneously foreign (its priests are established “like the peoples of the lands”) and idolatrous (the priests serve gods who are “no-gods”, v. 9b).107 The way in which various Torah traditions in Exodus, Leviticus and Numbers are reused in 2 Chr 13 in order to contrast the southern and northern cults 102

Compare, e.g., the statement in WATTS, Leviticus, 104: “P insists that only the descendents of Aaron may exercise priestly duties at the altar”. This conception is already manifest in the descriptions of the priestly vestments in Exod 28 (cf. Exod 39:1–32 MT), and of the consecration of Aaron and his sons as YHWH’s priests in Exod 29 and Lev 8, as well as in many other passages dealing with Aaronite privileges and obligations as priests such as, Lev 21–22. Note also, from the same perspective, the recurring reference in Leviticus and Numbers to “the sons of Aaron, the priests” (‫[ בני אהרן הכהנים‬Lev 1:5, 8, 11, etc.]), which effectively presumes the restriction of the priesthood to the Aaronites. 103 See Exod 28:41; 29:9, 29, 33, 35; Lev 8:33. In H, this expression is used to describe the high priest specifically (Lev 16:32; 21:10); but in Num 3:3, it is used again to refer to all the sons of Aaron, as in Exod 28:41. 104 KNOPPERS, “Mt Gerizim”, 319. 105 See especially 1 Chr 15:24; 16:6; 2 Chr 5:12; 29:26. 106 See on this especially the detailed comments by JAPHET, Chronicles, 695. 107 Compare Hos 8:6, where the same expression is already used in reference to “the calf of Samaria”; presumably, therefore, the “no-gods” mentioned in 2 Chr 13:9 similarly refers to Jeroboam’s calves mentioned in v. 8, as noted by several commentators (e.g., WILLIAMSON, Chronicles, 253).

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along a general division between licit and illicit is fascinating in several respects, not the least because it provides another piece of evidence for the view that the Chronicler wrote in a historical context when the interpretation of the Mosaic law in relation to the cult was a much disputed issue between Judeans and Samarians.108 In effect, Abijah’s speech implies that the Mosaic law was given to both communities, but argues that only Judah has maintained a cultic practice which is in accordance with this law.109 For the purpose of the present essay, however, what is significant is another aspect of Abijah’s speech in vv. 8–12, to which little attention has been given in general. There can be no doubt that the description in these verses of the legitimate cult perpetuated in Judah must refer to the central cult located at the Jerusalem temple, since this is the only cult that the Chronicler recognizes as legitimate after the building of the temple by Solomon. However, it is striking to observe that there is no explicit reference to the sanctuary itself in this passage: neither the tent of meeting nor the Jerusalem temple is mentioned in Abijah’s speech, although both are somehow simultaneously implied. Similarly, we find no reference or allusion to the Deuteronomic concept of the “chosen place”, and this notion plays no role whatsoever in the discourse of Abijah about the legitimacy of the Judahite cult. Instead, the centrality of the Jerusalem cult is affirmed through an entirely different device: namely, the presence of Aaronite priests, who perpetuate the daily rituals that were already performed in the wilderness. The central significance of the Aaronite priesthood in the definition of the legitimate cult is clearly expressed through the contrast built by vv. 9–10. Whereas the Israelites are accused of having driven away the “sons of Aaron” and established priests who worship idols (v. 9), Abijah’s claim that the Judahites have “not forsaken” YHWH is precisely justified by the following assertion: “the priests who keep the charge [‫ ]משרתים‬of YHWH are the sons of Aaron” (v. 10). This argument is then continued in v. 11 with a reference to the daily rituals performed by the Aaronite priests inside the sanctuary, and eventually concludes with a general statement: “For we [‫ ]אנחנו‬are keeping the charge [‫ ]משרתים‬of YHWH, whereas you [‫ ]ואתם‬have forsaken him”. This final statement takes up the language of v. 10 but reinterprets it in light of the description of the Aaronite ministry in v. 11. It is because the Aaronite priests perform the daily rituals initially prescribed by Moses that Judah has not “forsaken” YHWH, by contrast with the Israelites under Jeroboam; through the Aaronite priests, all of Judah can be said, in a sense, to “keep the charge of YHWH”, as the final statement in v. 11 implies.110 108

This aspect is discussed at length by KNOPPERS, “Mt Gerizim”, esp. 317–321. As KNOPPERS, “Mt Gerizim”, 319, aptly puts it: “Both northern and southern communities have links to the era of Israel’s national beginnings; but, from the Chronicler’s perspective, the Judean authorities are entrusted with the authority to perpetuate, interpret and apply the mandate of old”. 110 Although the expression ‫ שמר משמרת‬is often used in reference to priestly and Levitical duties specifically, it can also be used in the Hebrew Bible with the broader meaning 109

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In the conception presented here, therefore, centrality is not defined in reference to a location but, rather, to personnel; the marker which identifies the cult of Judah as legitimate in the second part of Abijah’s discourse (2 Chr 13:8–12) is the presence of Aaronite priests capable of perpetuating the Mosaic rituals. This conception, which evidently presumes the Aaronite ascent of the Judahite (i.e., Zadoqite) priesthood established in the genealogical lists of 1 Chr 1–9,111 is not the Chronicler’s innovation. Rather, it continues in many ways the conception that can already be found in the Priestly traditions of the Pentateuch where, as observed by J. Watts, the legitimate sacrificial cult is defined primarily by the presence of Aaronite priests performing the appropriate rituals at the central altar.112 In this regard, the description of the Jerusalem cult in the second part of Abijah’s discourse in 2 Chr 13:8–12 develops, and even complements, the previous references to the tent of meeting in Chronicles’ account of Solomon’s temple-building that were analyzed above.113 The temple built by Solomon is not only the place where the tabernacle was eventually installed (2 Chr 5:2–14); it is also, simultaneously, the very place in Israel where the daily rituals revealed to Moses in the wilderness continue to be performed by Aaron’s heirs and successors under the Davidic kings.

5. Conclusion: Cult Centralization in the Pentateuch and in Chronicles As noted in the introduction, this essay merely represents a preliminary attempt to “map” some key aspects of the reuse of Pentateuchal traditions to express the centrality of the Jerusalem temple in Chronicles. Many of the issues discussed here would require more in-depth study. Nevertheless, the above analysis already points to some general conclusions with regard to cult centralization in the Pentateuch and in Chronicles, which can be briefly sketched here by way of a conclusion. To begin with, the discussion highlights the variety of pentateuchal traditions used by the Chronicler to express the centrality of the Jerusalem temple. This of “to keep [YHWH’s] commands”: compare, e.g., Gen 26:5. Apparently, both meanings are implied here: it is because the Aaronite priests perform their duties in the sanctuary (v. 10) that the Israelites as a whole may effectively keep YHWH’s commands (v. 11). This play on the twofold meaning of ‫ שמר משמרת‬thus highlights the central role of the Aaronite priests in the community’s loyalty to YHWH. 111 See 1 Chr 5:27–41; further 1 Chr 6:34–38. The relationship between the two lists with respect to the positioning of Zadoq within a broader Levitical genealogy raises some important issues, which cannot (and need not) be discussed here; see further, e.g., the discussion by KNOPPERS, “Priestly Genealogies”. 112 See WATTS, Leviticus, esp. 104–105. Compare further his comments on this issue in idem, “Scripturalization”. 113 See the discussion in section 3 of this essay.

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variety is significant in and of itself, and provides a new perspective on the place and the importance of the Deuteronomic law of centralization in Chronicles. In particular, this finding suggests that, for the Chronicler, the centrality of the Jerusalem temple was best expressed by drawing on and combining different pentateuchal traditions. Deuteronomy’s concept of “chosen place” was only one such tradition, and not necessarily the most important or influential one; as a matter of fact, it appears to play a limited role overall in Chronicles’ assertion of the centrality of Jerusalem and its temple. While Chronicles rewrites the narrative of the temple-building under David and Solomon so as to align it more closely with Deut 12, and expressly to identify the Jerusalem temple with the central place of Deuteronomy, this device remains largely restricted to the beginning (1 Chr 22:7–10) and the end (2 Chr 7:12–16) of the templebuilding account. By contrast, references to the Priestly tabernacle in Chronicles’ account of the temple-building are in fact more frequent and numerous, and point to a consistent concern to coordinate the Jerusalem temple with the tabernacle so as to present the royal, Davidic cult in Jerusalem as the legitimate continuation of the Mosaic cult in the wilderness. Moreover, this perspective is continued in the second half of Abijah’s speech (2 Chr 13:8–12), where the legitimacy of the Davidic cult practised in Jerusalem is expressed exclusively through the reference to the daily rituals associated with the Priestly tabernacle, whereas the central place of Deuteronomy plays no role whatsoever in this speech. In this regard, Chronicles significantly qualifies – and in some regards even contradicts – the classical view according to which Deuteronomy would have been the main frame of reference for thinking about cult centralization in the postexilic period. While the Chronicler effectively draws on Deuteronomy, the Priestly tabernacle appears to provide him with an even more significant pattern for expressing his own views on cult centralization. Second, the discussion above likewise highlights the basic difference, within Chronicles, between Deuteronomic and Priestly conceptions of centralization, in ways that have arguably not always been sufficiently recognized. As a matter of fact, Chronicles’ reuse of the Priestly tabernacle traditions points to a distinct understanding of cult centralization, in which the central cult is no longer defined in relation to a single place – as per the conception expressed in Deuteronomy – but in relation to a cultic space in which the Mosaic rituals are permanently carried on. The difference between the Priestly and Deuteronomic conceptions of cult centralization is particularly clear in Chronicles’ account of the tabernacle in Gibeon (1 Chr 16:39–42; 2 Chr 1:2–6), where – as noted above – the presence of the tabernacle and the performance of rituals “according to the law of YHWH” are enough to legitimize a sacrificial cult under David already, before the building of the temple in Jerusalem. The same point is made (albeit from a different perspective) in Abijah’s speech, where the central, legitimate cult is now characterized by the presence of Aaronite priests (2 Chr 13:9–10), who perform the Mosaic rituals as defined in Exodus, Leviticus and Numbers (2 Chr 13:11–12a).

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These observations shed some significant light on the present discussion about the relationship between the Priestly tabernacle and cult centralization. On the one hand, the Chronicler recognizes in the tabernacle the model for a thoroughly centralized cult; there is no hint, in Chronicles, that the tabernacle might legitimate multiple sanctuaries, as per the view voiced by various scholars. On the other hand, the evidence provided by Chronicles points to the need to approach the tabernacle traditions in the Pentateuch as articulating a conception of cult centralization which significantly differs from the Deuteronomic one, and which needs to be understood on its own terms. More pointedly, the present study effectively indicates that the concept of “central space” associated with the tabernacle is primarily defined by two factors, in particular, which have no equivalent in Deuteronomy’s concept of centralization: (a) the presence of a legitimate priesthood, which is identified with the Aaronite priesthood either implicitly (1 Chr 16:39) or explicitly (2 Chr 13:9–10); and (b) the continued performance of Mosaic rituals at the tent of meeting (1 Chr 16:40; 2 Chr 13:11). Third, and lastly, the various passages studied here indicate that the rivalry with the Samarians and the cultic site on Mount Gerizim played a significant role in the reappropriation by the Chronicler of pentateuchal traditions about cult centralization. This aspect is particularly obvious in Abijah’s speech, which lays much emphasis on the notion that only Judah has preserved and maintained the legitimate Mosaic cult, whereas the northern kingdom is accused of having forsaken YHWH by driving away the Aaronite priests (2 Chr 13:9). Additionally, a similar polemical context is arguably involved in Chronicles’ insistence that Solomon built the temple according to the law of Deut 12, and that this temple was accepted by YHWH himself as his “place” as well as his “house of sacrifice” (2 Chr 7:12). This conception, as argued above, effectively nullifies the Samarian claim that their own sanctuary on Mount Gerizim was identical with the central place of Deuteronomy: only the temple built by Solomon qualifies as the legitimate place where sacrifices may be brought by the Israelites. Together, these observations suggest that the Chronicler’s reuse of various pentateuchal traditions to assert the centrality of Jerusalem and its temple does not merely reflect the growing authority of the Pentateuch as Torah at the time of Chronicles’ composition. This view is certainly correct, but it is also partial and incomplete. Setting Chronicles’ reuse of pentateuchal traditions against the background of the cultic and economic competition between the sanctuaries associated with Mount Zion and Mount Gerizim respectively helps us understand that, if the Chronicler lays so much emphasis on the correspondence between the cult of Jerusalem and the Mosaic law, this is precisely because that correspondence was not evident in his own time but needed to be reasserted against the rival claims of Samarian Yahwists worshipping at Mount Gerizim. Seen from this perspective, the Chronicler’s interpretation of the Mosaic Law has, in effect, a much more practical, even political, dimension than has usually been recognized.

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Literature ABADIE, P., La figure de David dans les livres des Chroniques. De la figure historique à la figure symbolique. Contribution à l’étude de l’historiographie juive à l’époque postexilique, Lille 1990. —, “L’identité d’Israël dans le livre des Chroniques”, in: O. Artus / J. Ferry (eds.), L’identité dans l’écriture, Hommage au professeur Jacques Briend (LeDiv 228), Paris 2009, 185–202. ALBERTZ, R., Religionsgeschichte Israels in alttestamentlicher Zeit, vol. 2, Vom Exil bis zu den Makkabäern (GAT 8.2), Göttingen 1992. BECKING, B., “Do the Earliest Samaritan Inscriptions Already Indicate a Parting of the Ways?”, in: O. Lipschits et al. (eds.), Judah and the Judeans in the Fourth Century B.C.E., Winona Lake 2007, 213–222. BEENTJES, P., “Jerusalem in the Book of Chronicles”, in: M. Poorthuis / C. Safrai (eds.), The Centrality of Jerusalem: Historical Perspectives, Kampen 1996, 15–28. BEN ZVI, E., “The Secession of the Northern Kingdom in Chronicles: Accepted ‘Facts’ and New Meanings”, in: idem, History, Literature and Theology in the Book of Chronicles (BibW), London / New York 2014, 117–143. BLANCO WIßMANN, F., “Er tat das Rechte …”: Beurteilungskriterien und Deuteronomismus in 1Kön 12 – 2Kön 25 (AThANT 93), Zürich 2008. BRAUN, R., “Solomon, the Chosen Temple Builder: The Significance of 1 Chronicles 22, 28, and 29 for the Theology of Chronicles”, JBL 95 (1976) 581–590. —, 1 Chronicles (WBC 14), Waco 1986. CHARLESWORTH, J. H., “What Is a Variant? Announcing a Dead Sea Scroll Fragment of Deuteronomy”, Maarav 16 (2009) 201–212, 273–274. CRESSWELL, T., Place: A Short Introduction, Malden, MA 2004. DEBOYS, D. G., “History and Theology in the Chronicler’s Portrayal of Abijah”, Biblica 71 (1990) 48–62. DENNERLIN, N., Die Bedeutung Jerusalems in den Chronikbüchern (BEATAJ 46), New York 1999. DE VRIES, S. J., “Moses and David as Cult Founders in Chronicles”, JBL 107 (1988) 619–639. DIEBNER, B.-J., “Gottes Welt, Moses Zelt und das salomonische Heiligtum”, in: T. Römer (ed.), Lectio difficilior probabilior? L’exégèse comme expérience de décloisonnement. Mélanges offerts à Françoise Smyth-Florentin (BDBAT 12), Heidelberg 1991, 127–154. DILLARD, R. B., “Reward and Punishment in Chronicles: The Theology of Immediate Retribution”, WTJ 46 (1984) 164–172. —, 2 Chronicles (WBC 15), Waco 1987. DOUGLAS, M., Leviticus as Literature, Oxford 1999. DUŠEK, J., Aramaic and Hebrew Inscriptions from Mt Gerizim and Samaria between Antiochus III and Antiochus IV Epiphanes (Culture and History of the Ancient Near East 54), Leiden 2012. HARDMEIER, C., “König Joschija in der Klimax des DtrG (2Reg 22f.) und das vordtr Dokument einer Kultreform am Residenzort (23,4–15*). Quellenkritik, Vorstufenrekonstruktion und Geschichtstheologie in 2Reg 22f.”, in: R. Lux (ed.), Erzählte Geschichte. Beiträge zur narrativen Kultur im alten Israel (BThSt 40), Neukirchen-Vluyn 2000, 81–145. HJELM, I., “Northern Perspectives in Deuteronomy and its Relation to the Samaritan Pentateuch”, HebAI 4 (2015) 184–204. HURVITZ, A., “Terms and Epithets Relating to the Jerusalem Temple Compound in the Book of Chronicles: The Linguistic Aspect”, in: D. P. Wright et al. (eds.), Pomegranates and

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Golden Bells. Studies in Biblical, Jewish, and Near Eastern Ritual, Law, and Literature in Honor of Jacob Milgrom, Winona Lake 1995, 165–183. JAPHET, S., I and II Chronicles. A Commentary (OTL), London 1993. —, The Ideology of the Book of Chronicles and Its Place in Biblical Thought (BEATAJ 9), Frankfurt a.M. 1997. JOHNSTONE, W., 1 and 2 Chronicles, vol. 1, 1 Chronicles 1 – 2 Chronicles 9: Israel’s Place among the Nations (JSOT.S 253), Sheffield 1997. —, 1 and 2 Chronicles, vol. 2, 2 Chronicles 10–36: Guilt and Atonement (JSOT.S 254), Sheffield 1997. JONKER, L., “From Paraleipomenon to Early Reader: The Implications of Recent Chronicles Studies for Pentateuchal Scholarship”, in: C. M. Meier (ed.), Congress Volume 2013 (VT.S 163), Leiden 2014, 217–254. —, “Within Hearing Distance? Recent Developments in Pentateuch and Chronicles Research”, OTE 27 (2014) 123–146. KALIMI, I., “Jerusalem – The Divine City: The Representation of Jerusalem in Chronicles Compared with Earlier and Later Jewish Compositions”, in: M. P. Graham et al. (eds.), The Chronicler as Theologian: Essays in Honor of Ralph W. Klein (JSOT.S 371), London / New York 2003, 189–205. KARTVEIT, M., “The Place That the Lord Your God Will Choose”, HebAI 4 (2015) 205–218. KAUFMANN, Y., The Religion of Israel: From Its Beginnings to the Babylonian Exile, Chicago 1960. —, History of the Religion of Israel, vol. 4, From the Babylonian Captivity to the End of Prophecy, New York / Jerusalem 1977. KNOPPERS, G. N., “‘Battling against Yahweh’: Israel’s War against Judah in 2 Chr. 13:2–20”, RB 100 (1993) 511–532. —, “ ‘The City Yhwh Has Chosen’: The Chronicler’s Promotion of Jerusalem in Light of Recent Archaeology”, in: A. G. Vaughn / A. E. Killebrew (eds.), Jerusalem in Bible and Archaeology: The First Temple Period (SBL.SyS 18), Atlanta 2003, 307–326. —, “The Relationship of the Priestly Genealogies to the History of the High Priesthood in Jerusalem”, in: O. Lipschits / J. Blenkinsopp (eds.), Judah and the Judeans in the NeoBabylonian Period, Winona Lake, IN 2003, 109–133. —, I Chronicles 1–9: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AncB 12), New York 2004. —, I Chronicles 10–29: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AncB 12A), New York 2004. —, “Mt Gerizim and Mt Zion: A Study in the Early History of the Samaritans and Jews”, Studies in Religion / Sciences Religieuses 34 (2005) 309–338. —, “Parallel Torahs and Inner-Scriptural Interpretation: The Jewish and Samaritan Pentateuchs in Historical Perspective”, in: T. Dozeman et al. (eds.), The Pentateuch: International Perspectives on Current Research (FAT 78), Tübingen 2011, 507–531. —, Jews and Samaritans: The Origins and History of Their Early Relations, Oxford / New York 2013. —, “The Northern Context of the Law-Code in Deuteronomy”, HeBAI 4 (2015) 162–183. KNOWLES, M., Centrality Practiced: Jerusalem in the Religious Practice of Yehud and the Diaspora in the Persian Period (Archaeology and Biblical Studies 16), Atlanta 2006. KRATZ, R. G., “The Idea of Cultic Centralization and Its Supposed Ancient Near Eastern Analogies”, in: R. G. Kratz / H. Spieckermann (eds.), One God – One Cult – One Nation: Archaeological and Biblical Perspectives (BZAW 405), Berlin 2010, 121–144. LYNCH, M., Monotheism and Institutions in the Book of Chronicles: Temple, Priesthood, and Kingship in Post-Exilic Perspective (FAT II 64), Tübingen 2014.

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MAGEN, Y., “Mount Gerizim – A Temple City”, Qadmoniot 23/3–4 (1990) 70–96 (Hebrew). —, “Mount Gerizim – A Temple City”, Qadmoniot 33/2 (2000) 74–118 (Hebrew). —, “The Dating of the First Phase of the Samaritan Temple on Mount Gerizim in Light of the Archaeological Evidence”, in: O. Lipschits et al. (eds.), Judah and the Judeans in the Fourth Century B.C.E., Winona Lake 2007, 157–211. MAGEN, Y. et al., Mount Gerizim Excavations, vol. 1, The Aramaic, Hebrew and Samaritan Inscriptions (Judea and Samaria Publications 2), Jerusalem 2004. MILGROM, J., Numbers (JPSTC), Philadelphia 1990. —, Leviticus 1–16: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AncB 3), New York 1991. —, “Does H Advocate the Centralization of Worship?”, JSOT 88 (2000) 59–76. —, Leviticus 23–27: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AncB 3B), New York 2001. MOSIS, R., Untersuchungen zur Theologie des chronistischen Geschichtswerkes (FThSt 92), Freiburg i.Br. 1973. MURRAY, D. F., “Under YHWH’s Veto: David as Shedder of Blood in Chronicles”, Biblica 82 (2001) 457–476. NIEHR, H., “Die Reform des Joschija. Methodische, historische und religionsgeschichtliche Aspekte”, in: W. Gross (ed.), Jeremia und die “deuteronomistische Bewegung” (BBB 98), Weinheim 1995, 33–55. NIHAN, C., From Priestly Torah to Pentateuch: A Study in the Composition of Leviticus (FAT II 25), Tübingen 2007. —, “The Torah between Samaria and Judah: Shechem and Gerizim in Deuteronomy and Joshua”, in: G. N. Knoppers / B. M. Levinson (eds.), The Pentateuch as Torah: New Models for Understanding Its Promulgation and Acceptance, Winona Lake 2007, 187–223. —, “Garizim et Ebal dans le Pentateuque. Quelques remarques en marge de la publication d’un nouveau fragment du Deutéronome”, Semitica 54 (2012) 185–210. —, “Textual Fluidity and Rewriting in Parallel Traditions: The Case of Samuel and Chronicles”, JAJ 4 (2013) 186–209. —, “Samuel, Chronicles, and ‘Postchronistic’ Revisions: Some Remarks of Method”, in: U. Becker / H. Bezzel (eds.), Rereading the Relecture? The Question of (Post)chronistic Influence in the Latest Redactions of the Books of Samuel (FAT II 66), Tübingen 2014, 57–78. NOTH, M., The Deuteronomistic History (JSOT.S 15), Sheffield 1981. OTTO, E., Das Deuteronomium. Politische Theologie und Rechtsreform in Juda und Assyrien (BZAW 284), Berlin 1999. RELPH, E., Place and Placelessness, London 1976. RICHTER, S., The Deuteronomistic History and the Name Theology: lešakkēn šemô šām in the Bible and the Ancient Near East (BZAW 318), Berlin / New York 2002. RÖMER, T. C., “Transformations in Deuteronomistic and Biblical Historiography. On ‘Book-Finding’ and other Literary Strategies”, ZAW 109 (1997) 1–11. —, “Cult Centralization in Deuteronomy 12: Between Deuteronomistic History and Pentateuch”, in: E. Otto / R. Achenbach (eds.), Das Deuteronomium zwischen Pentateuch und Deuteronomistischem Geschichtswerk (FRLANT 206), Göttingen 2004, 168–180. RUDOLPH, W., Chronikbücher (HAT 21), Tübingen 1955. SCHENKER, A., “Le Seigneur choisira-t-il le lieu de son nom ou l’a-t-il choisi? L’apport de la Bible grecque ancienne à l’histoire du texte samaritain et massorétique”, in: A. Voitila / J. Jokiranta (eds.), Scripture in Transition, Essays on Septuagint, Hebrew Bible, and Dead Sea Scrolls in Honour of Raija Sollamo (JSJ.S 126), Leiden / Boston 2008, 339–351.

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SCHMID, K., “Das Deuteronomium innerhalb der ‘deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerke’ in Gen – 2 Kön”, in: E. Otto / R. Achenbach (eds.), Das Deuteronomium zwischen Pentateuch und Deuteronomistischem Geschichtswerk (FRLANT 206), Göttingen 2004, 193–211. SELMAN, M. J., “Jerusalem in Chronicles”, in: R. S. Hess / G. J. Wenham (eds.), Zion, City of Our God, Grand Rapids 1999, 43–56. STREET, J. M., The Significance of the Ark Narrative: Literary Formation and Artistry in the Book of Chronicles (StBL 129), New York 2009. SWANSON, D. D., “The Use of Chronicles in 11QT: Aspects of a Relationship”, in: D. Dimant / U. Rappaport (eds.), The Dead Sea Scrolls: Forty Years of Research, Leiden 1992, 290–298. THELLE, R. I., Approaches to the “Chosen Place”. Accessing a Biblical Concept (LHB 564), London / New York 2012. TREBOLLE BARRERA, J., “4QKgs”, in: E. C. Ulrich et al. (eds.), Deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges, Kings, vol. 9 of Qumran Cave 4 (DJD 14), Oxford 1995, 171–183 (+ Pl. XXXVII). TUAN, Y., Space and Place: The Perspective of Experience, Minneapolis 1977. UEHLINGER, C., “Was there a Cult Reform under King Josiah? The Case for a Well-Grounded Minimum”, in: L. L. Grabbe (ed.), Good Kings and Bad Kings (ESHM 5 / LHB 393), London / New York 2005, 279–316. ULRICH, E. C., Dead Sea Scrolls and the Developmental Composition of the Bible, Leiden 2015. VAN SETERS, “The Chronicler’s Account of Solomon’s Temple-Building: A Continuity Theme”, in: M. P. Graham / S. L. McKenzie (eds.), The Chronicler as Historian (JSOT.S 238), Sheffield 1997, 283–300. WATTS, J., Leviticus 1–10 (HCOT), Leuven 2013. —, “Scripturalization and the Aaronide Dynasties”, JHS 13 (2013) 1–16 (http://www. jhsonline.org/Articles/article_186.pdf). WELLHAUSEN, J., Prolegomena to the History of Ancient Israel, Cleveland / New York 1965. WELTEN, P., Geschichte und Geschichtsdarstellung in den Chronikbüchern (WMANT 42), Neukirchen-Vluyn 1973. WETTE, W. L. M. DE, Beiträge zur Einleitung in das Alte Testament, Halle 1806–1807. WEYDE, K., The Appointed Festivals of YHWH: The Festival Calendar in Leviticus 23 and the sukkôt Festival in Other Biblical Texts (FAT II 4), Tübingen 2004. WILLIAMSON, H., Israel in the Books of Chronicles, Cambridge 1977. —, 1 and 2 Chronicles (NCBC), Grand Rapids / London 1987. WÜRTHWEIN, E., Das erste Buch der Könige: Kapitel 1–16 (ATD 11.1), Göttingen 1977. YADIN, Y., The Temple Scroll, 3 vols., Jerusalem 1983.

IV. Prophetic Transformations

Don’t Forget Jerusalem’s Destruction! The Perspective of the Book of Jeremiah Georg Fischer The theme of our conference1 is very intriguing. It establishes a connection between what was probably the most catastrophic event in the early history of “Israel”, the fall of Jerusalem in 587 BCE, and presumably the most valuable and important contribution of this community to mankind, namely the gift of the Torah, as a foundation for the Jewish and, later, Christian and other religions, and as inspiration for countless people ever since throughout the millennia. How does it come about that such a terrifying, traumatic experience results in such an overwhelmingly positive outcome? The Book of Jeremiah does not directly answer this question. However, it furnishes some background to it. Jer arose out of the desire to deal more explicitly with Jerusalem’s fall, and in this respect it is not only different from its peers, the other prophetic books, but also unmatched elsewhere in the Bible. I would like to exhibit Jer’s uniqueness in three ways, and then reflect on its contribution to the topic of our conference and, more specifically, to the question raised above.

1. A Comparison with 2 Kings, Jer’s Source 1.1 The Presentation in 2 Kings The two Books of Kings offer an overview of Israel’s history from the last moments of David’s reign, in approximately 965 BCE,2 to the favour shown to King Jehoiachin after 37 years as prisoner in exile, probably in 561 BCE.3 They thus cover a time span of about four centuries, with a dynamic towards 1

I thank the organizers for having invited me to this conference. It is an honour for me to come back to the Pontifical Biblical Institute, my “Alma Mater” in Biblical studies, and to present some ideas from my studies on Jeremiah and his book. I am also grateful to Mrs Felicity Stephens for having corrected the English of this article. 2 1 Kgs 1–2 reports David’s enthronement of Solomon as his successor, and his death. For the dating, I follow the outline of Israelite history in KEEL et al., Orte, 521; for more details on the events around Samaria’s and Jerusalem’s falls see BECKING, Fall, and LIPSCHITS, Fall. 3 2 Kgs 25:27–30; for the date see KEEL et al., Orte, 576.

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a “negative” ending – the fall of Jerusalem – narrated at length in the final chapter, 2 Kgs 25. The presentation consists of a mostly chronological report of the events, sometimes mixed with theological remarks.4 Jer 25:1–7 narrates the siege of Jerusalem, its fall and Nebuchadnezzar’s judgment upon King Zedekiah. The introduction to it, 2 Kgs 24:18–20, gives the latter’s rebellion against the Babylonian king as one reason for the former’s assault. The other reason is God’s wrath, also caused by the evil deeds of the Judean king.5 These “theological” reasons do not differ from what has already been mentioned several times before. They are simply the final attestations of a long-established pattern of behaviour. However, the outcome this time is more disastrous and depicted at much greater length than anywhere else, with the exception of 2 Kgs 17 (see below). 2 Kgs 25:8–17 goes on, after the capture of the city, to narrate the burning and destruction of both the city and the temple, the deportation of parts of the population into exile and the removal of the valuables taken from the temple to Babylon. Finally, vv. 18–21 mention the transportation of several officials, from various ranks,6 and their killing in Riblah by King Nebuchadnezzar. The extent of the presentation, covering more than twenty verses, corresponds to its importance.7 Interestingly, in the whole of chapter 25, God only appears four times, always in connection with his temple,8 never elsewhere or in another context. The description remains sober and reports facts without any interpretation, and seemingly without any sign of involvement.9 The account in 2 Kgs 17 of the fall of Northern Israel’s capital Samaria in 722–720 BCE is quite different. Here, vv. 1–6 narrate the historical event; a long, mainly theological interpretation of it follows in vv. 7–23; and its consequences, in the aftermath, are described at length in vv. 24–41. The contrast between the two parallel texts recounting the destruction of capitals, Samaria and Jerusalem, in 2 Kgs 17 and 25 is astonishing. Although the emphasis and the sympathy of the (implicit) author of Kings stay with Judah,10 he dedicates more space and reflective energy to the fall of Samaria, while completely bypassing the significance of the demolition of Jerusalem 4

E.g. God giving King Solomon wisdom, 1 Kgs 5:9, or the evaluation formulae “do what is good / bad in the eyes of YHWH”, 1 Kgs 15:11, 26, and often, the last time in 2 Kgs 24:19 for King Zedekiah. 5 These are common theological motifs (cf. the previous note); for YHWH’s wrath see also 1 Kgs 11:9; 16:7, 26, etc. 6 For their numbers see ZIEMER, “Jahr”, esp. 198–199. 7 One might even add to the length of the description the two following small units: the episode with the governor Gedaliah, vv. 22–26, and the grace given to King Jehoiachin already mentioned above, vv. 27–30. 8 The references are 2 Kgs 25:9, 13 (twice), 16, always “the house of YHWH”. 9 MARKL, “No Future”, 725. 10 This is evident, for example, in the way he evaluates the separation of the northern kingdom in 1 Kgs 12, and in the continual negative remarks about its kings.

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and even of the temple. As a result, the meaning and the impact of the most important fact, and also of the climax of the Books of Kings, are largely missing and are not reflected as elaborately as for the fall of Samaria.11 1.2 Jer as a Continuation and Deepening of the End of 2 Kings It is against this background that Jer can be understood as filling in what is absent in 2 Kings. At first glance, Jer 52 simply seems to pick up at its end, repeating, almost verbatim, major portions of 2 Kgs 24:18–25:30.12 For this reason, it is often regarded as an “appendix” to Jer,13 and the differences are mostly neglected. Yet Jer 52 is a necessary conclusion to the book,14 aimed at from the beginning. The indication of the exile of Jerusalem’s population “in the fifth month” of King Zedekiah’s eleventh year, given as the final date in Jer 1:3, is only realized in Jer 52:12–15 and nowhere else within Jer. It serves as a frame for the book, and stimulates the reader to go on reading until this fulfilment in the final chapter. In a similar way, the removal of the temple’s columns, basin (the “sea”), stands and remaining vessels to Babylon (Jer 27:19–22), announced through Jeremiah, awaits a realization; it is only reported in Jer 52:17–23. This latter passage shows significant differences with respect to its source, 2 Kgs 25:13–17. It is substantially longer and lists more vessels. To this end, it picks up rare expressions from the sanctuary texts in the Book of Exodus and from King Solomon’s building of the temple in 1 Kgs 7.15 Special emphasis is given to the description of the columns in Jer 52:21–23; their beauty and preciousness are stressed much more than in its parallel and source 2 Kgs 25:17, showing a deliberate desire in Jer to reshape the presentation, and not simply to repeat what had been said before. There are still more differences between 2 Kgs 25 and Jer 52; here are some of them:16 11 The comparison with the parallel account in 2 Chr 36:11–21 further confirms this impression. Therein motifs of evaluation and reflection (esp. vv. 12–16 and 21) are dominant with respect to the narration of the events (in vv. 11 and 17–20). Nevertheless, there are many links between the descriptions of Samaria’s and Jerusalem’s falls in 2 Kings; cf. Peter Dubovský’s article in this volume, “Suspicious Similarities”. 12 The dependence of Jer 52 on 2 Kings is commonly assumed. There are only a few who do not accept it, e.g. HOBBS, 2 Kings, 360. The longest missing part in Jer 52 concerns 2 Kgs 25:22–26; this Gedaliah episode, however, can be found, extremely extended, in Jer 40:7–43:7, or even beyond (for this see below 2.4). 13 Thus still, recently, SCHMIDT, Jeremia, 338: “Geschichtlicher Anhang”. Cf. also LUNDBOM, Jeremiah 37–52, 511: “Postscript”. 14 For the function of Jer 52 within the book and also for its relationship with 2 Kings see FISCHER, “Jeremia 52 – ein Schlüssel”; a shorter English version appeared as: idem, “Jeremiah 52: A Test Case”. 15 Examples are ‫“ המנרות‬the lamp stands”, ‫“ הספות‬the basins” and ‫“ המנקיות‬the bowls”; for the references and further expressions see FISCHER, “Jeremia 52 – ein Schlüssel”, 53–55. 16 “+” indicates additional text in Jer 52.

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2 Kgs 25:3 “on the ninth day”

Jer 52:6 + “in the fourth month …”

v. 4 no verb for the soldiers

v. 7 + “they fled and went out”

v. 5 “the king … him”

v. 8 “the king … Zedekiah”

v. 6 “in Ribla”

v. 9 + “in the land Hamat”

v. 7 no officials

v. 10 + “he killed also all officials …”

no mention of length of imprisonment v. 11

+ “until the day of his death” (also v. 34)

v. 11 “the rest of the people”

v. 15 + “from the poor of the people …”

v. 19 “five men”

v. 25 “seven men”

Several of these additional or different expressions are attested in the Hebrew as well as in the Greek version of Jer 52.17 This clearly indicates the expanding tendency of Jer with respect to its source text. The punishment seems to be more severe in Jer (52:10, 11, 25), and the cowardly escape of the military is highlighted (v. 7); they do not face up to their responsibility for resistance to the Babylonians, but ultimately leave the civilians alone, without protection.18 Jer 52 is “out of place” within Jer. The “right position”, chronologically, is in Jer 39, between the last “interview” between King Zedekiah and Jeremiah in Jer 38 and the assembly camp for the deportation at Ramah in Jer 40. Jer 39:1–10 presents another account of Jerusalem’s fall. It is an abbreviated version of Jer 52, and different from it in several respects.19 Jer 39:3 can be seen as a fulfilment of God’s announcement in Jer 1:15 that foreigners will come and set up their thrones at the gates of Jerusalem, as there is no other passage closer to it.20 The repeated description of Jerusalem’s fall, in two variants, places great emphasis on it and produces a “stereo” vision of this important and traumatic event. The existence of a parallel account in the right place raises the question of the function of Jer 52 in its position. One hint is given immediately before the start, at the end of Jer 51: “thus far the words of Jeremiah” (51:64). This makes 17

This is not the case for the longest addition, the list of three exiles in 52:28–30, which is only to be found in Hebrew. 18 These two features, of a severe judgment and of irresponsible leaders, are typical for Jer. These alterations in Jer 52 thus confirm a trait present in the entire book. 19 For the distinctive traits of Jer 39 and its relationship with Jer 52 see FISCHER, Jeremia 26–52, 349–357. 20 This means that Jer 1:15 needs the specific description of Jer 39, just as Jer 1:3 requires 52:12. Jer 52 cannot be regarded as the realization of 1:15. These observations may indicate that the author, right from the beginning, deliberately devised this double description of Jerusalem’s fall in Jer 39 and 52.

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clear that the words reported subsequently are not his. So Jer 52, being an external testimony, bears witness to the truth of the prophet’s proclamation, showing that what he said became real in the course of time.21 It seems clear that the author of Jer deliberately picked up 2 Kgs 25, shaped it in his own way in chapter 52, adding to it and varying it, and intended, right from the beginning (1:3), that it should be the final culmination of his book.22 He, too, brought in “anticipation”, yet at the right time, in a shortened, quite distinct version in Jer 39.23 Furthermore, he focused almost his entire book on this crucial event (for this see below 2.4), so that the disastrous outcome24 appears well prepared for throughout Jer, and God’s judgment, understood as enacted in the fall of Jerusalem, seems more than justified. The intensive use of 2 Kgs 24:18–25:30 is striking; however, Jer also picks up other texts and elements of the Books of Kings,25 which, as a whole, serve as a foundation.

2. A Comparison with Other Prophetic Books It is common opinion that the final shape of all the prophetic books is not preexilic, but stems from a later time. This implies that all of them “knew” about the fall of Jerusalem. Therefore it is interesting how this crucial event is mirrored in them. I won’t treat them in detail or systematically here; my intention is only to give an impression of the various approaches in them. 2.1 The Books of the Twelve There are enormous differences among these books. The Books of Hosea, Jonah, Nahum, Habakkuk and Haggai do not even mention “Jerusalem”.26 This is not 21

Jer 52 also has other functions: see FISCHER, Jeremia: Prophet, 29–32. The destruction of the temple in Jerusalem, threatened / announced by God in Jer 7:14, is never reported before Jer 52:13. As in the cases mentioned before (see above p. 293, and n. 20), Jer 52 is “needed” as fulfilment. For various aspects of the temple’s destruction see HAHN (ed.), Zerstörungen. 23 Jer 39 differs from 52 also in the attention given to the fate of Jeremiah and the promise made to the Cushite Ebed-Melech (39:11–18). 24 WÖHRLE, “Rehabilitierung”, interprets the grace shown to King Jehoiachin positively; yet the preponderance of Jer 52 is negative, and the final verse seems to emphasize this by the addition of “until the day of his death”, equivalent to the end of the Davidic dynasty. 25 The names and dates, and the portrayal of the last Judean kings in Jer are mainly based on the narratives in 2 Kings. King Jehoiachin’s exile (2 Kgs 24:8–17) is alluded to in Jer 24 and 29. King Josiah’s reform (2 Kgs 22–23) remains in the background of Jer 11:2 and Jer 36, which are like negative reversals of it. King Manasseh (2 Kgs 21) is explicitly referred to in Jer 15:4. The connections between 2 Kgs 17, the fall of Samaria and Jer are also especially noteworthy: see FISCHER, “Relationship”. 26 This is explicable for Hosea, a prophet of the eighth century BCE in the northern kingdom. Jonah and Nahum, dealing with the Assyrian capital Nineveh, have another focus. So there are 22

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to say that they don’t know about its fate. Hab, for example, probably alludes to it with “the Chaldeans” in 1:6 who come for “judgment” and take people away in their net (1:12, 15). But all these five books were written down after 587 BCE, and they do not address this catastrophe, at least not directly. Other Books of the Twelve allow the reader to perceive the traumatic event of Jerusalem’s fall. The “Day of YHWH” in Joel 2:1–11 is connected with his “holy mountain” (v. 1); later on, Joel mentions that God will “turn around the fate of Judah and Jerusalem” (4:1 [Engl. 3:1]), supposing that they have had to suffer before, and that their children have been sold (v. 6). In Amos God announces that he will set ablaze the “palaces of Jerusalem” (2:4–5). Amos 9:1–10 describes destruction and deportation, but without clear references to buildings or dates. These verses may have in mind Jerusalem’s fall, but it is difficult to prove. Obadiah (v. 11) states: “they have cast lots over Jerusalem”, and Obad 20 has the phrase “the exile of Jerusalem”. Micah knows about the calamity approaching Jerusalem (1:9, 12) and about the deportation (1:16). Mic 3:12 announces that the city will be in ruins, and in 6:9–13 that God will strike it because of the iniquities of its population.27 In Zephaniah God himself says that he will stretch out his hand against Jerusalem (1:4), and the rest of the first chapter describes symbolically this judgment as ‫זבח‬, “sacrifice” on the “day of YHWH” (1:7–8), referring later on to specific places such as the “Fish Gate”, the “Second Quarter” and the “Mortar” (1:10–11).28 The 28 occurrences of “Jerusalem” in Zechariah stand out and indicate the special emphasis of this prophetic book on the capital.29 The first two passages, Zech 1:12, 16, already point in this direction, indicating divine compassion for Jerusalem through the question they ask and God’s response to it. Zech knows about other nations waging war against Jerusalem (e.g. 12:3, 9), but only in one instance does it describe what really happened: “… the city will be taken, and the houses will be plundered, and the women will be slept with; and half of the city will go out into exile, but the rest of the people will not be wiped out from the city” (Zech 14:2). Immediately afterwards, in the next verse, God fights against those who do this (14:3).30 The last book of the Twelve, Malachi, mentions Jerusalem twice. Mal 2:11 ascribes guilt to it, specifically for the desecration of YHWH’s sanctuary; in reasons why the name “Jerusalem” does not appear; it is like the expression “Zion”, which only occurs in Joel, Obadiah, Micah, Zephaniah and Zechariah within the Twelve. Strangely, Haggai, although concentrating on the rebuilding of the temple in Jerusalem, never mentions the name of the city. For the role of Jerusalem in the Books of the Twelve see BILIĆ, Jerusalem, 184–196. 27 DECORZANT, Gericht, 96 and n. 215, discusses the possible identifications of the “city” in Mic 6:9 and opts for Jerusalem. 28 Towards the end of the book, in Zeph 3:14–16, the city’s fate is changed for good. 29 See BILIĆ, Jerusalem, 282–308. 30 Such divine protection is already indicated early in the book by God’s unique promise for Jerusalem “… to be a wall of fire around (it)” (Zech 2:9); cf. FISCHER, Theologien, 129–130.

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Mal 3:4 God will again accept favourably “the offerings of Judah and Jerusalem”. There is no clear indication of Jerusalem’s destruction anywhere in the book. To sum up: Seven of the twelve “minor” prophets bring in the name of Jerusalem, whereas five of the Twelve never mention it. There is not one concrete reference to the fall of Jerusalem in 587 BCE, giving, for example, the names of the respective kings or specific events leading up to it. Some books describe judgment in a general way (Joel 2; Amos 9), others look back at it (Obad; Hab 1; Zech). Overall, most descriptions of this catastrophe are veiled or symbolically loaded (Zeph 1). There is also a clear tendency to downplay it by various means: many reports are very brief; the enormous losses and the brutality of warfare rarely enter the picture; and sometimes the focus changes to divine rescue very soon afterwards – Zech 14:2–3 offers a good illustration. 2.2 Jerusalem’s Fall in the Book of Isaiah The beginning of the Book of Isaiah establishes an Assyrian setting, dating the prophet’s career into the late eighth century BCE (Isa 1:1). This would exclude references to the events of 587 BCE. However, as commonly accepted, Isa also contains material from later, even postexilic, times. As a result, the book in its canonical shape clearly shows familiarity with what happened at the Babylonian assault and destruction of Jerusalem. There are several hints at Jerusalem’s fate in the book, starting as early as Isa 1:7 “your cities are burnt with fire”.31 Isa 1:21 levels an accusation of infidelity against the “faithful city” and, later on, Isa 1:25 introduces God’s judgment in a metaphorical way with “I will smelt your dross as with lye”. Similarly, other passages in Isa refer to a catastrophe, for example Isa 3:1–3, with the removal of any support for the city and its responsible citizens, and 3:8, with the statements “for Jerusalem has stumbled, and Judah has fallen”. Isa 22:1–14 is one of the most outspoken texts, which might also refer to the Babylonian conquest.32 Isa 22:3 mentions the flight of all commanders. This is the closest parallel to what is described in 2 Kgs 25:4–7. Further on, Isa 49:14–26 alludes several times to devastation. Towards the end of the book, Isa 64:9–10 explicitly mentions Zion’s and Jerusalem’s desolation and the burning of the temple.33 These references to Jerusalem’s fall in Isa are sporadic, mostly short and only occasionally identifiable. By contrast there is a long and very precise report 31

BEUKEN, Jesaja 1–12, 69, understands Isa 1 against a postexilic background, and therefore also as able to refer to Jerusalem’s and Judah’s destruction by the Babylonians. ECK, Jesaja 1, 331–352, however, considers Isa 1:5–7a, 8 as relating to the Neo-assyrian period. 32 BEUKEN, Jesaja 13–27, 248, sees connections with the siege of Jerusalem in 701 BCE as well as with the Babylonian capture in 587/6. For Isa 22:5 he opts for a translation of ‫ מקרקר קר‬as “von gewaltigem Krach”; it could also be rendered as “the wall breaks”, for the breaching of the city wall in 587. 33 There are also other hints at the disaster that befell Jerusalem and Judah, e.g. in Isa 44:28; 52:2, 4–5, 9; 54:3.

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of what supposedly happened at the Assyrian siege of Jerusalem by Sennacherib in 701 BCE. Isa 36–39 has taken 2 Kgs 18:17–20:21 as a source,34 in a way comparable to what is seen in Jer 52 with respect to 2 Kgs 24:18–25:30. It shows slight changes and also additions, the main one being King Hezekiah’s prayer in Isa 38:9–20. Isa 36–38 describes Jerusalem being saved by God’s intervention.35 This idealized version presents an image of an “inviolable Zion” in opposition to the facts.36 Jerusalem does not fall to its assailants. At the end of this long insertion from 2 Kings, in Isa 39 we find a description of a delegation from the Babylonian king Merodach-Baladan37 to congratulate King Hezekiah on recovering from his illness, and Isaiah’s dialogue with Hezekiah in reaction to it (vv. 3–8). The narrated time is situated chronologically at the end of the eighth century BCE. The next verse is Isa 40:1, God’s double exhortation of comfort to his people. It is generally seen as referring to the time of restoration after the exile,38 dated to the late sixth century BCE or even later. All the intervening time is missing. The Book of Isaiah thus makes a jump of approximately two hundred years at this crucial juncture from Isa 39 to 40, obviously deliberately omitting the most important event in Israel’s history in the first millennium BCE. As a consequence, there is a huge gap. Isa gives no record of the last Judean monarchs and the events at the beginning of the sixth century: of King Jehoiakim, who rebelled against Nebuchadnezzar; of the subsequent first siege of Jerusalem in 597 BCE, leading to the deportation of King Jehoiachin and of thousands of the city’s population; of King Zedekiah’s renewed rebellion against Babylon, which caused the final siege of Jerusalem, lasting for eighteen months and ending in July 587 with the capture of the city, its destruction and the exile of many people;39 of the aftermath of the destruction, with Gedaliah appointed as governor and Judeans going down to Egypt to escape Babylonian rule.40 34

BERGES, Book, 245–256, with a lengthy discussion. What really took place is narrated, with all verisimilitude, in 2 Kgs 18:13–16, corresponding also to Assyrian annals. King Hezekiah had to pay a high tribute to make the Assyrian troops withdraw from Jerusalem and lost great parts of the territory of Judah. Isa does not mention this. 36 HARDMEIER, Prophetie, introduces yet another aspect. According to him, the historical background of these narrations in 2 Kgs 18–20 // Isa 36–38 is to be found in the Babylonian siege of Jerusalem in 588 BCE, more precisely the time of the Belagerungspause, the interval in the Assyrian siege caused by the dispatch of Egyptian troops (see Jer 37:5; Prophetie, 283–299 and 336–338). He sees the narrations as propaganda aimed at encouraging Israel to continue to resist the assault. 37 He reportedly reigned from 721 to 710 and from 704 to 703 BCE; cf. BEUKEN, Jesaja 28–39, 451. For an interpretation of Isa 39 on the background of the promise to David in 2 Sam 7 see JANTHIAL, L’oracle, 256–263. 38 BERGES, Jesaja 40–48, 98–100. 39 For this date, see HARDMEIER, Prophetie, 247–251. 40 In order to fill in this ‘void’, SCHMID, Buchgestalten, 249–50 and 315–319, has suggested, following ideas of E. Bosshard-Nepustil, R. G. Kratz and O. H. Steck, combining the books 35

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As a result, Isa presents a very idealistic, embellished view of Jerusalem and its fate. The omission of the catastrophic events of 587 and their terrible consequences must have been conscious, as the author(s) of the book certainly knew about them. To make a comparison: it is like describing the history of the twentieth century, passing silently over the two world wars. 2.3 Ezekiel’s Perception of Jerusalem’s Fall The Book of Ezekiel has a twofold setting. As the prophet is among those deported with King Jehoiachin in 597 BCE, he lives in Mesopotamia with the exiles.41 But Ezekiel is lifted by the spirit and brought to Jerusalem for some time before the fall of Jerusalem (Ezek 8:3), and once again fourteen years later (Ezek 40:1).42 Although contemporary with Jeremiah and with these events at the beginning of the sixth century BCE, Ezekiel thus has no direct experience of what happened in Jerusalem in 587. This is mirrored in his book. Ezek 24:1–2 mentions the beginning of the Babylonian siege of Jerusalem, equivalent to the date given in 2 Kgs 25:1. Ezek 24:3–14 continues with a ‫משׁל‬, an allegory of a pot placed on the fire, symbolizing the city which cannot be purified and therefore is judged relentlessly. The next small unit, 24:15–17, announces the death of the prophet’s wife and forbids him to mourn. This is interpreted in vv. 18–24 as a sign for the “death” of God’s sanctuary and the “pride of your power”,43 which likewise will not be mourned. In the final passage, vv. 25–27, God tells Ezekiel that he will be informed about it by a ‫“ פליט‬escapee, fugitive”, here to be understood as meaning a deportee.44 This happens in Ezek 33:21. With a delay of nearly half a year,45 the message “the city has been taken” arrives with those who had already been exiled to Babylonia. The spatial and temporal distance does not permit Ezekiel to be an “eye-witness”; the prophet hears about this crucial event only from afar and later, and it becomes a turning point for him. His mouth is opened again (v. 22), of Isaiah and Jeremiah in the following way: after “First Isaiah” (Isa 1–39) Jer, and as a continuation Isa 40–66. This would, at least partially, result in a kind of ‘logical’ sequence; the transmitted forms of these books, however, keep them apart and display different profiles. 41 Ezek 1:1 mentions the river Kebar, probably a channel of the Euphrates; Ezek 3:15 refers to Tel-Aviv as the name of one settlement there. 42 Ezek 11:24–25 describes his return to the Golah in Mesopotamia. Later on, in Ezek 40:1–2, in a similar way as before in Ezek 8, God brings him to the “city” in ‫ארץ ישׂראל‬, which has to be understood as a reference to Jerusalem: see SEDLMEIER, Ezechiel, 271. 43 Ezek 24:21, probably also referring to the temple, cf. GREENBERG, Ezekiel, 510–511. The text does not explicitly mention the destruction of the city, yet the context, with the death of sons and daughters by the sword, suggests it. 44 SEDLMEIER, Ezechiel, 150. 45 Jer 52:6 dates the city’s fall to the ninth day of the fourth month of Zedekiah’s eleventh year, probably corresponding to the “twelfth year of our exile” in Ezek 33:21, in which the message reaches Ezekiel “on the fifth day of the tenth month”.

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and in the following chapters his proclamation will be full of good tidings,46 more than ever before in the book. It is as if the fall of Jerusalem triggers a new era, blessed by God’s undeserved, unexpected grace. Between Ezekiel’s “journey” to Jerusalem in Ezek 8–11 and the allegory in Ezek 24, two passages allude symbolically to the final days of Jerusalem as Judah’s capital. Ezek 17:13–21 talks about the last king, Zedekiah, without mentioning his name; yet the context,47 and v. 20 with “I will bring him to Babylon”, make it clear that this is connected to the capture of the city. Two chapters later, the simile of a young lion being caught or trapped and brought to the Babylonian king also depicts King Zedekiah’s fate (Ezek 19:5–9). The Book of Ezekiel testifies thus, in various instances, to Jerusalem’s fall. It does it in a way that may be compared to looking through binoculars: the event is far away, viewed like a night sky in which the light of distant stars arrives delayed, much later – the stars observed may not even exist any longer. Ezek’s presentation of 587 is predominantly figurative,48 and the catastrophe is regarded as a watershed in Israel’s history with God. 2.4 The Presentation in the Book of Jeremiah Jer stands in marked contrast, if not opposition, to the ways in which its “kindred” prophetic books, Isa and Ezek, deal with Jerusalem’s fall. Jer is different in many respects: (a) Frequency The name of the city is mentioned 102 times in Jer,49 much more often than in most other scrolls of the Hebrew Bible, a sign of the special attention given to it in this book. (b) Extension The many occurrences of the name go together with the continuing attention that Jer pays to Jerusalem’s fate. From the beginning of the book (Jer 1:3, 15; 2:2) to its very end (Jer 52), most of the book deals with Judah’s capital.50 If one 46

Ezek 34–48 contain many messages of hope for Israel. Ezek 17:12 had already mentioned the deportation of another Judean king to Babylon – King Jehoijachin – and v. 17 contains two expressions for besiegement. 48 One might still add Ezek 9, which contains a divine command to slay the evildoers in the city, to the texts already mentioned. For further aspects of Ezekiel’s presentation of Jerusalem’s fall see DASCHKE, City, 61–102. 49 This is equivalent to an average of nearly two instances per chapter. The statistics follow the count of TDOT 6 (1990) 348 (from which BibleWorks differs). “Jerusalem” has 660 occurrences in the Hebrew Bible. Jer lies in second place for frequency after 2 Chron, with more than 120 mentions. To compare: Isa mentions Jerusalem 49 times, Ezek 26 times, 1 and 2 Kings together 90 times. 50 The name “Jerusalem” is missing only in the chapters 10, 12, 16, 20–21, 28, 30–31, 41, 43, 45–50. However, even in these chapters, Jerusalem is often in view, e.g. in Jer 10:17 47

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includes indirect references to Jerusalem as “Zion” or by mentioning God’s temple,51 there are only six chapters which do not have it in view: Jer 43 and 45–49. This can easily be explained by their different orientation: Jer 43 describes the flight of the rest of the Judeans to Egypt, Jer 45 contains an oracle for Baruch and the following chapters consist of oracles against foreign nations. Jer is concentrated almost entirely on Jerusalem. (c) Focalization Within this emphasis on the city, Jer chooses the forty final years of the Davidic monarchy in Judah, apparently establishing a negative contrast with its beginnings under Kind David and King Solomon.52 The chronological indications are more prominent in the second half of the book and mainly accentuate two very limited periods of time – King Jehoiakim’s fourth year, used as a structural device53 and, predominating, the final phase of King Zedekiah’s reign.54 For the latter period, Jer describes many events in detail, in a kind of “close-up”,55 so that the impression of what happened becomes vivid and involving to the readers. This is very far from Isa’s avoidance and Ezek’s symbolic presentation of Jerusalem’s fall. (d) Point of View After Isa 39, Isa started a journey through time from the end of the eighth century BCE, only “touching down” 200 years later, long after the catastrophe was over. Only a brief remark in Isa 40:2 looks back at the past judgment of Jerusalem. Ezek employs a kind of “helicopter” experience, with the prophet temporarily being “flown” into Jerusalem and its temple (Ezek 8:3); apart from this it looks on the city’s fate from afar, depending on information from others. It is very different with Jer. Although it was written long after the catastrophe, approximately three-quarters of Jer treats the time before it.56 Jer presents these last years before the fall of Jerusalem from a contemporaneous and eye-witness perspective. The main human figure – the prophet Jeremiah – functions like a camera lens, describing in a true-to-life way what is happening to him and in the society around him.57 with the exhortation to prepare luggage for the exile; in Jer 12:7 with God talking about “my house”, that is his temple in Jerusalem; in Jer 16:2, 9 in “at this place”, referring to the city (cf. Jer 7:3–7 [3 times]), etc. 51 Some indications for the chapters where “Jerusalem” is not mentioned: “Zion” is used for example in Jer 30:17; 50:5, the “house of YHWH” in Jer 28:1; 41:5. 52 FISCHER, Jeremia 1–25, 128–129. 53 Jer 25:1; 36:1; 45:1; 46:2: three times for the opening of larger sections, and once (in 45:1) as a kind of frame (for Jer 36–45). 54 Passages in Jer 21, 24, 27–29, 32–34, 37–39, and 52 are dated to this period. 55 See the similar title of the collection of articles of LUNDBOM, Jeremiah Closer Up. 56 The fall of the city is only narrated in Jer 39, leaving thirteen chapters (up to Jer 52) for the events afterwards. 57 Other metaphorical descriptions of the specific manner of Jer’s presentation might say that Jer analyses this period around 587 BCE with a magnifying glass; or investigates it

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(e) Confrontations Conflicts shape vast sections of Jer. God starts to accuse the community and its leaders in Jer 2, and continues to do so for many chapters.58 Jeremiah has lively encounters with King Zedekiah (Jer 34:1–7; 37:17–21; 38:14–26), officials (Jer 26:12–19; 37:11–16; 38:27), priests (Jer 20:1–6; 26:7–11; 27:16–22; 29:29) and other prophets (Jer 26:7–11; 28:1–16).59 Arguments are put forward in a precise and concrete way so that the audience – the listeners of Jeremiah and readers of Jer – can partake in the clashes and the conflicting interpretations like spectators at a drama.60 Such a presentation enables the reader to focus in detail on the various groups and their positions: for example, the factions in Jer 26; the efforts made to avoid the catastrophe, starting with God in Jer 2; immediate reactions, as in Jer 4:10, 19, 30–31 and elsewhere. The extent, intensity and acuteness of these descriptions leading up to Jerusalem’s fall are unparalleled in the Bible.61 They produce a vibrant and colourful impression and heighten further the involvement of the addressees of the book. (f) Effect This kind of presentation serves yet another function. It lays bare guilt. In this respect, Jer is unequalled, as it emphasizes this aspect more than any other biblical scroll and distributes guilt to nearly everybody.62 From the “low” to the “high” ones (Jer 5:1–5), entire families (Jer 7:16–20), all influential groups (e.g. Jer 1:18; 2:8) and even past generations (Jer 16:11; King Manasseh in 15:4) are to blame for the catastrophe. They are all responsible for the fall of Jerusalem. (g) Mixtures For a long time Jer oscillates between threats of a disaster which could still be avoided and announcements of inevitable destruction. Jer 15–19 may be an with a microscope, making sections and slides of attitudes and important events. Some photographic “shots” are “stills” (e.g. Jer 32:1–2; 33:1; 34:1), and they may be combined with a kind of video “clip” (Jer 32:3–5; 34:2–7). 58 Jer 2–9, 11–19, 22–27 and other chapters are full of reproaches. 59 Jer 29 indirectly reflects Jeremiah’s opposition to prophets in Babylon, by means of a “letter” and a reaction to another letter (v. 29) in vv. 24–32. These are not direct encounters. 60 This “dialogical” form of presentation, as a struggle between various positions, challenges the addressees of Jer. They are confronted with a choice and with having to decide for themselves which path to follow. 61 The attacks of the foe are described as brutal and cruel; see e.g. 5:16–17; 6:23; 9:20–21; 12:12 … 52:10–11. To quote some of the language used: “open grave … they eat your sons and your daughters” (5:16–17); “cruel … no mercy” (6:23); “the slain of the daughter my people” (8:23); “corpses like manure on the surface of the field” (9:21), etc. 62 Among the rare exceptions are Ahikam (Jer 26:24), Ebed-Melech (Jer 38:7–13; 39:15–18) and Baruch (e.g. in Jer 36 and 45). To a large extent responsibility is laid on the “false prophets”, a theme more developed in Jer than anywhere else.

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example: 15:1–4 and, similarly, 16:1–9 leave no hope. Yet 17:7–8 blesses the one confiding in YHWH; 17:19–27 promises a future to those keeping the Sabbath; and, in 18:1–8, Jeremiah’s visit to the potter and its divine interpretation leave the impression that conversion could lead to a “reshaping” by God without destruction. The people’s rejection in 18:12 can then be seen as a turning point, unleashing God’s command to shatter the pot as a symbol of the city’s fate (19:10–11).63 Jer employs interesting techniques to draw attention to its presentation. It mixes prosaic narrations (Jer 1; 7; 11 etc.) with poetic passages full of images (e.g. Jer 2–6; 8–10), thus creating a blend of interpretative frames and rich symbolic fillings,64 and a kaleidoscopic impression. Similarly, the structure of Jer and its chronology65 also contribute to conveying an impression of the chaos caused by Jerusalem’s fall, depicted for the first time, in an incomplete way, in Jer 39.66 There is a dynamic, going even beyond this date in Jer 42–44, showing the continued disobedience of the Judeans who are fleeing to Egypt.67 This further extends the people’s rejection of YHWH through time towards the readers of Jer; this message is possibly a central aim of the book. But the overall development of Jer reaches its final point only in chapter 52, with the repeated, prolonged and intensified version of Jerusalem’s fall as a kind of “last word”. To Sum Up Jer’s presentation of the events around 587 BCE is very different, not only from the other prophetic scrolls, but from all other biblical books. Jer contains the longest, sharpest and most detailed depiction of Jerusalem’s fall and the events leading to it.68 This focus, its intensity and the manner of its elaboration, testify to important objectives. The author behind Jer must have had special interests in mind; in my view he wanted to counterbalance or complement the uneven or unsatisfactory presentations of some of his prophetic colleagues, or rather their books, and to emphasize the importance of Jerusalem’s fall and 63

Even this passage is not decisive. Jer 26:3 offers yet another chance for conversion later on in the book, and this goes on to the very last moment before the capture of the city: Jeremiah offers King Zedekiah the chance to save his life and Jerusalem in Jer 38:17. 64 STULMAN, Order, has contributed considerably to the understanding of the intertwining of poetry and prose in Jer. 65 For a short outline, see e.g. FISCHER, Jeremia 1–25, 81. 66 The most important lacuna in Jer 39 is its failure to describe what happened to the temple. 67 Even in the wake of the catastrophe, the people of Judah did not change; so there is a correspondence between their failure to listen before Jerusalem’s destruction and after it. 68 Intertextual allusions in Jer 6 connect to accusations against other cities, such as Gibeah and Samaria, which are here in Jer summarized and applied to Jerusalem: FISCHER, Jeremia 1–25, 285. Cf. also the use of Nah 3:19, the final verse on Nineveh’s fate, in Jer 30:12 for Jerusalem.

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the necessity of reflecting on it adequately, in order to learn for the future, so as to avoid similar catastrophes.

3. The Relationship between Deuteronomy and Jer To understand Jer and its extended description of Jerusalem’s fall properly, it is necessary to turn to the Book of Deuteronomy as the main source, and especially to Deut 28.69 The proximity of Jer to Deut and Deuteronomistic literature has often been observed; no other biblical book is closer to Jer than Deut. For the scope of our investigation, two texts deserve special attention: the threats of Deut 28, and the law about an apostate city in Deut 13. 3.1 A Realization of the Curses of Deut 28 Deut 28 is the chapter most referenced in Jer, and no other biblical book refers to it more than Jer does. This already underlines its special importance. I will mention here only some “exclusive links” 70 and central findings for the relationship between Deut 28 and Jer that are relevant for our topic.71 “And their corpse / the corpse of this people will be food for (all) the birds of heaven and the animals of the earth, and nobody will disturb (them)” is only to be found in Deut 28:26 and Jer 7:33. Jer 7 talks about Jerusalem’s apostasy, in the context of the Topheth immediately before in v. 32, and applies Deuteronomy’s threat to the city. The phrase “to put an iron yoke on the neck” exclusively connects Deut 28:48 and Jer 28:14 – Jeremiah’s confrontation of Hananiah about the subjugation to Babylon. That “a nation from afar” will come, “a nation whose tongue you cannot hear” is a curse in Deut 28:49. Jer 5:15 picks it up and extends it, describing a nation: “whose tongue you do not know, and you cannot hear what it speaks”. Jer obviously clarifies an obscure expression, ‫שׁמע לשׁון‬, “to hear the tongue”,72 by expanding it. Jer 5:16–18 develops further the disastrous impact of this foreign nation. The phrase “all the words of this Torah / which I spoke … written in this scroll” occurs only in Deut 28:58 and Jer 25:13. As Moses emphasized the relevance of written words, so God does in Jer 25 with respect to his judgment set down in Jeremiah’s book. 69

For Jer’s general dependence on Deut, see FISCHER, “Einfluss”, with references to earlier studies. For the extraordinary significance of Deut 28 for Jer, see idem, “Fulfilment”. 70 This term designates expressions only to be found in two literary corpora, in this case Deut 28 and Jer. 71 For further aspects see FISCHER, “Fulfilment”. 72 The probable meaning seems to be “to understand the language”.

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That God finds “pleasure” (verb ‫ )שׂישׂ‬in “doing good”, with the verb ‫ יטב‬in the Hiphil, to his people forms an exclusive link between Deut 28:63 and Jer 32:41.73 In Deut 28 this refers back to past times, and for the future the opposite is announced: that God will rejoice in harming them. On the contrary, in Jer 32, God promises to rejoice in doing good to his people for some time to come. There are, in addition, more than twenty close connections between Deut 28 and Jer, nearly all from the section containing the curses.74 This indicates that the author of Jer apparently saw the curses of Deut 28 as being realized in the fall of Jerusalem in 587 BCE, and used them many times throughout his book to indicate that what Moses had foretold had been fulfilled in this catastrophe.75 The curses of Deut 28 served him as a welcome source for depicting adequately the downfall of Jerusalem in the Babylonian conquest. Jer displays several differences from Deut 28. In Deuteronomy Moses is the speaker, whereas in most passages in Jer it is God who speaks. This gives it a higher authority, especially relevant in the case of the reversal mentioned above (Jer 32:41, in opposition to Deut 28:63). One may conclude from this that God is free to change what Moses had announced, an aspect that will show up again below in section 3.2. The connections with Deut 28:48–49 tend to be expanded in Jer, literarily in Jer 5:15 and dramatically in Jer 28, where the whole chapter plays on the image of the yoke. They may be interpreted as a confirmation of the direction of dependence, from Deut to Jer, the latter picking up and developing the former. Jer is beyond Deut, going further in a number of ways. 3.2 The Law about an Apostate City in Deut 13 Deut 13:13–19 contains the last and worst of three cases of apostasy, in which a whole city is seduced by wicked men who “have gone out … from your midst” (‫יצאו … מקרבך‬, v. 14) to instigate defection from YHWH. This city shall be smitten and burned (v. 16), and it shall become a “tel / heap of ruins forever” and it “will not be built up again” (‫תל עולם לא תבנה עוד‬, v. 17). There is a broad consensus that this command, in a veiled form, talks also about the fate of Jerusalem.76 73 However, there is already a similar expression in Deut 30:9 (with ‫לטוב‬, “for good”): see EHRENREICH, Wähle, 193–194, who understands it as “Auflösung des Fluches” of Deut 28:63. 74 Deut 28:1–14, the section containing the blessings, is significantly less present in Jer. Here some examples from it: ‫דרך אחד‬, “one way”, is found in Deut 28:7, 25 and Jer 32:39; ‫ קרא‬in the niphal + ‫ שם‬+ ‫על‬, “(God’s) name is called upon …”, links Deut 28:10 and Jer 14:9; the combination of the verbs ‫שמע‬, ‫ שמר‬and ‫עשה‬, “listen”, “preserve”, “do”, in the context of commandments, is a unique connection between Deut 28:13 and Jer 35:18, where they relate to the Rechabites. 75 There is an interesting aspect concerning the dating of Deut 28. In the view of many scholars this chapter is no announcement for the future, but – at least in part – a description of what has already happened at the fall of Jerusalem. In this case what is literarily presented as a realization (of Moses’ curses) in Jer actually is a confirmation and deepening. 76 See e.g. CHRISTENSEN, Deuteronomy, 281.

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In Jer 30:18–21, the first part of the second poem of the “scroll or booklet of consolation” (Jer 30–31), there are two exclusive links to this law in Deut 13. “To go out from the midst” there relates to the ruler of the community, whom God allows to come close to him (Jer 30:21). The same phrase which, in Deuteronomy, introduced the people seducing the city to venerate other gods, in Jer pictures a leader being an exemplary model for extraordinary closeness to God. The city as “eternal tel”, “never to be rebuilt”, is the second exclusive connection, this time with Jer 30:18: “… the city will be built upon its tel”. As in the previous example, Jer changes the meaning, this time even more contradictorily. God revokes the law that Moses had given in his name in Deut 13.77 Instead of being eternally in ruins, the city – intended to be Jerusalem – is promised rebuilding and renewed splendour. The reversal of Deut 13 in Jer 30 is all the more astonishing as other phrases from that chapter retain the same sense in Jer.78 The Book of Jeremiah thus dares to challenge laws of the Torah,79 and to show that God can grant mercy beyond what is stated therein. The reversals of Deut 28:63 and of Deut 13:13–19 in Jer 32:41 and Jer 30:18–21 are signs not only of a process of literary reworking but, even more, of a different message and, probably, a distinct theological way of thinking in some respects. Summing Up Deuteronomy, especially Deut 13 and 28, contains veiled references80 to Jerusalem and its fall. It uses specific expressions that occur again in Jer, distributed over the entire book.81 The author of Jer seems to have often and deliberately chosen these phrases, and even developed them further. Doing so, he indicated that 77

OTTO, “Deuteronomium und Pentateuch”, esp. 171–172, interprets Jer 30 as “abrogating” Deut 13. Jer 3:1–4:4, symbolically allowing the woman who has become another man’s wife to return to her former husband, is a similar case of divine revocation of a law of Deuteronomy, in this instance of Deut 24:1–4. See also 2 Kgs 17:20, God’s rejection of “the whole seed of Israel”, which is annulled by YHWH’s conditional oath in Jer 31:37. 78 The first law, directed against seductive prophets, uses the expression ‫דבר סרה‬ (Deut 13:6), literally “to speak rebellion”, and is only encountered again in Jer 28:16 and 29:32, referring there to the false prophets Hananiah and Shemaiah. The second law, dealing with seduction by a family member, encourages lack of mercy in such a case by the two verbs ‫חוס‬, “to pity” and ‫חמל‬, “to be compassionate” (Deut 13:9). In Jer 13:14 God himself declares that he will act in this way towards the inhabitants of the country, adding more emphasis with a third verb, ‫“ רחם‬to have mercy”. Cf. FISCHER, “Einfluss”, 260–261. 79 This raises the question of its legitimization for doing so. The call of the prophet Jeremiah, especially in Jer 1:7, 9 which refer to Deut 18:18 (God’s promise of a prophet like Moses), is part of the answer. Jeremiah, right from the start, is presented as equal to Moses and as his announced successor. 80 As Jerusalem is never mentioned in the Torah, the identification remains open. The distinctive expressions, the respective comparisons and the connections with similar passages in the prophets allow for the supposition that Jerusalem was in view in these particular texts of Deuteronomy. 81 FISCHER, “Fulfilment”, 46.

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Moses’ announced curses (Deut 28) had become reality and that Jerusalem had received its deserved punishment according to the law of Deut 13. Yet he did not stop there, but went on to testify to a changed time when this judgment had been overcome, when God was gracious once again, annulling his harsh law and rejoicing in doing good to his people. The fall of Jerusalem is not Jer’s last word, although the book ends with it.

4. Jer and the Rise of the Torah 4.1 Jer “after” the Torah As I understand it, the Torah was written, for the most part, in the two centuries after the fall of Jerusalem. Jer is apparently even later. Its author knows all the books from Genesis to Deuteronomy in their final form, quotes important texts from them and further develops some of their ideas.82 The remark of the final chapter of the Torah, “No prophet has risen again in Israel like Moses” (Deut 34:10), is superseded and overruled by God’s call of Jeremiah in Jer 1, which deliberately portrays him as Moses’ successor. Jer thus cannot contribute to the first phase of the rise of the Torah, namely its origins. However Jer does testify to the next stage, the growing appreciation of the Torah. Most of Jer’s quotations of or allusions to its texts show a profound esteem for their message and values, and presuppose their validity and authority. God’s promise in Jer 31:33, to “give my Torah83 in their interior, and I will write it upon their heart”, indicates the value of divine instruction in these books and their lasting function as an indispensable base for a good relationship with God. 4.2 Jer Supporting the Torah Jer presupposes the books of the Torah and uses them extensively. In many instances, it runs parallel to the Torah, and especially to the Book of Deuteronomy. The combination of Deut 1:1 “These are the words which Moses spoke …” with Deut 1:3 “Moses spoke … according to everything which YHWH had commanded him on their behalf” is mirrored in the Incipit of Jer. Jer 1:1 “The words of Jeremiah …” is complemented, in a way unique for prophetic books, in Jer 1:2 by “to whom the word of YHWH came”. The beginnings of both books thus introduce two levels of speech as belonging together: an initial address by God is passed on to the people by the prophet, and both dimensions belong together. Looking at the dynamic of the people’s relationship with God, there is a high degree of similarity between Deuteronomy and Jer. God has ordered the people 82 83

FISCHER, Stand der theologischen Diskussion, 134–136.

‫תורתי‬, “my torah”, could also simply mean “my instruction”; however, the parallelism with the verb “write” and the overall use of ‫ תורה‬in the Book of Jeremiah suggests an interpretation as referring to the five books. Cf. FISCHER, “‫”ותפשׂי התורה לא ידעוני‬.

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to listen to his voice and to obey his commandments; this has generally not been done.84 As a consequence, the people have to leave the country and go into exile. If, while they are there, they return to God, he will show mercy once more and bring them back to their homeland.85 Jer thus shares fundamental theological concepts with the Torah. 4.3 Jer in Tension with the Torah The general acceptance of the Torah in Jer is only one side of the story. There are also instances where Jer advocates other positions, or even runs counter to some of its concepts. Two such cases became obvious above, when dealing with Deut 28:63 and Deut 13. Another indication that Jer moves beyond the Torah86 is the oath in Jer 16:14–15 // 23:7–8. Its new formula no longer invokes the God of the exodus out of Egypt, but YHWH who leads the people out of the countries of the exile. Two passages in Jer critique groups connected with the Torah. Jer 2:8 ‫ותפשׂי התורה לא ידעוני‬, “and (those) grasping / handling the Torah do not know me”, reproaches these people for having no personal relationship with God. And Jer 8:8 responds to a group convinced that they are in possession of YHWH’s Torah: ‫אכן הנה לשׁקר עשׂה עט שׁקר ספרים‬, “Indeed, behold, for / to deceit the pen of deceit of scribes has made (it?)”. In this text, scribes are connected with the Torah, and they are accused of distorting it in a systematic way. Jer 2:8 and 8:8 reveal a deeper problem with the Torah: the humans who are in charge of writing and interpreting it. The mediation of God’s revelation is a crucial issue in biblical faith, and Deut and Jer represent two different options. Compared with its source, Exod 20:18–21, Deut 5:23–33 elevates Moses’ role as mediator, sanctioning it by a divine response and approval (vv. 28–31).87 Against this background, Jer 31:34 has special significance: “No longer will a man teach his friend …: ‘Know YHWH!’, because they all will know me, from their low to their high ones …”. The intimate communion of the whole community with God dispenses with the need for mediators.88 4.4 Different Perspectives While both the Torah and the prophetic books take their canonical shape after the fall of Jerusalem, they deal with this key event very differently. The books of 84

For the notable exception of Deut 34:9 see SONNET, “Redefining”. Partially in Deut 4:25–31, more developed in Deut 29:17–30:5; all the elements mentioned can be found many times in Jer. 86 Other instances of Jer’s difference from the Torah include the “New Covenant” in Jer 31:31–34, the attitude towards the “ark of the covenant” in Jer 3:16 and the critique of sacrifices in Jer 7:21–22. 87 Cf. OTTO, Deuteronomium 4,44–11,32, 758–762. 88 This forms a contrast with the insistance of Deuteronomy on teaching and learning, see BRAULIK, “Deuteronomium”. 85

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the Torah choose a perspective “from before”, looking occasionally at the “future” with veiled, covert glances (Deut 4:25–28; 29:18–27, etc.) and trying to lay a religious and legal foundation for the community of survivors of this catastrophe.89 Most prophetic books, on the other hand, opt for another perspective, mainly looking back at Jerusalem’s destruction in the past. They do it occasionally, often en passant, and move on to other concerns. Exceptions are the books of Ezekiel and Jeremiah: they both deal at length with Jerusalem’s fall and from a perspective that actually presents this time as personal experience. However, Jer is still different from Ezek, with its distanced view. It stands out in its immediate, involved manner of presentation, with the prophet observing the events from close by and focusing on them at length. 4.5 Scope Jer directly focuses on this the downfall of Jerusalem, with the immense losses, the internal struggles within the society, and the continued rejection of God’s word as the main reason for the that fall. In doing so, Jer penetrates deeper into the paradoxical divine plans to discover that God intends to bring new life and a still greater salvation after the disaster. Jer 29–33 shows this, drawing also on ideas from the Book of Isaiah. The “prophetic” perspective of Jer, and also of other prophets, thus complements the Torah, in bearing witness more directly to the restoration after the fall, fostering hope and developing new paths to follow in order to avoid what had happened in 587 BCE. These prophetic books, and Jer preeminently,90 testify to the apparent contrast between this traumatic catastrophe and its extremely fruitful impact in the following centuries. “Don’t forget Jerusalem’s destruction!” is an intense exhortation not to repeat former mistakes and is essential for survival. Jer is a constant reminder not to forget the darkest era of the history of Israel and Judah. It confronts its audience with past guilt and failure in order to allow it to grow spiritually through the analysis of this disaster and, by not bypassing it, to discover the divine gift of true life.

89

MARKL, “No Future”, 727, shows how the Moab covenant offers a solution, being hinted at by the references to it in 2 Kgs 22–23. 90 See especially the questions in Jer 8:4–5.

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Literature BECKING, B., The Fall of Samaria: An Historical and Archaeological Summary, Leiden 1992. BERGES, U., Jesaja 40–48 (HThKAT), Freiburg 2008. ―, The Book of Isaiah: Its Composition and Final Form (trans. M. C. Lind; HBM 46), Sheffield 2012. BEUKEN, W. A. M., Jesaja 1–12 (HThKAT), Freiburg 2003. —, Jesaja 13–27 (HThKAT), Freiburg 2007. —, Jesaja 28–39 (HThKAT), Freiburg 2010. BILIĆ, N., Jerusalem an jenem Tag: Text und Botschaft von Sach 12–14 (FzB 117), Würzburg 2008. BRAULIK, G., “Das Deuteronomium und die Gedächtniskultur Israels. Redaktionsgeschichtliche Beobachtungen zur Verwendung von ‫”למד‬, in: idem, Studien zum Buch Deuteronomium (SBAB 24), Stuttgart 1997, 119–146. CHRISTENSEN, D. L., Deuteronomy 1:1–21:9 (WBC 6A), 2nd edn, Nashville 2001. DASCHKE, D., City of Ruins. Mourning the Destruction of Jerusalem through Jewish Apocalypse (BiInS 99), Leiden 2010. DECORZANT, A., Vom Gericht zum Erbarmen: Text und Theologie von Micha 6–7 (FzB 123), Würzburg 2010. ECK, J., Jesaja 1 – Eine Exegese der Eröffnung des Jesaja-Buches. Die Präsentation Jesajas und JHWHs, Israels und der Tochter Zion (BZAW 473), Berlin 2015. EHRENREICH, E., Wähle das Leben! Deuteronomium 30 als hermeneutischer Schlüssel zur Tora (BZAR 14), Wiesbaden 2010. FISCHER, G., “Jeremia 52 – ein Schlüssel zum Jeremiabuch”, Bib 79 (1998) 333–359 (repr. idem, Der Prophet wie Mose: Studien zum Jeremiabuch [BZAR 15], Wiesbaden 2011, 42–63). —, “Jeremiah 52: A Test Case for Jer LXX”, in: B. A. Taylor (ed.), X Congress of the International Organization for Septuagint and Cognate Studies. Oslo 1998 (SCSS 51), Atlanta 2001, 37–48. —, “The Relationship between 2 Kings 17 and the Book of Jeremiah”, in: M. Augustin / H. M. Niemann (eds.), Basel und Bibel (BEAT 51), Frankfurt a.M. 2004, 313–321 (repr. idem, Prophet, 180–187). —, Jeremia 1–25 (HThKAT), Freiburg 2005. —, Jeremia 26–52 (HThKAT), Freiburg 2005. —, Jeremia: Der Stand der theologischen Diskussion, Darmstadt 2007. —, “Der Einfluss des Deuteronomiums auf das Jeremiabuch”, in: idem et al. (eds.), Deuteronomium – Tora für eine neue Generation (BZAR 17), Wiesbaden 2011, 247–269. —, “Fulfilment and reversal: the curses of Deuteronomy 28 as a foil for the Book of Jeremiah”, Semitica et Classica 5 (2012) 43–49. —, Theologien des Alten Testaments (NSK.AT 31), Stuttgart 2012. —, Jeremia: Prophet über Völker und Königreiche (Biblische Gestalten 29), Leipzig 2015. —, “‫ ותפשׂי התורה לא ידעוני‬The Relationship of the Book of Jeremiah with the Torah”, in: J. C. Gertz et al. (eds.), The Formation of the Pentateuch: Bridging the Academic Cultures Between Europe, Israel and North America (FAT), Tübingen (forthcoming). GREENBERG, M., Ezekiel 21–37 (AncB 22A), New York 1997. HAHN, J. (ed.), Zerstörungen des Jerusalemer Tempels. Geschehen – Wahrnehmung – Bewältigung (WUNT 147), Tübingen 2002. HARDMEIER, C., Prophetie im Streit vor dem Untergang Judas: Erzählkommunikative Studien zur Entstehungssituation der Jesaja- und Jeremiaerzählungen in II Reg 18–20 und Jer 37–40 (BZAW 187), Berlin 1990.

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HOBBS, T. R., 2 Kings (WBC), Waco 1985. JANTHIAL, D., L’oracle de Nathan et l’unité du livre d’Isaïe (BZAW 343), Berlin 2004. KEEL, O. et al., Orte und Landschaften der Bibel. Band 1: Geographisch-geschichtliche Landeskunde, Zürich 1984. LIPSCHITS, O., The Fall and Rise of Jerusalem: Judah under Babylonian Rule, Winona Lake 2005. LUNDBOM, J. R., Jeremiah 37–52 (AncB 21C), New York 2004. —, Jeremiah Closer Up: The Prophet and the Book (HBM 31), Sheffield 2010. MARKL, D., “No Future without Moses: The Disastrous End of 2 Kings 22–25 and the Chance of the Moab Covenant (Deuteronomy 29–30)”, JBL 133 (2014) 711–728. OTTO, E., “Deuteronomium und Pentateuch”, in: idem, Die Tora: Studien zum Pentateuch. Gesammelte Aufsätze (BZAR 9), Wiesbaden 2009, 168–228. —, Deuteronomium 4,44–11,32 (HThKAT), Freiburg 2012. SCHMID, K., Buchgestalten des Jeremiabuches (WMANT 72), Neukirchen 1996. SCHMIDT, W. H., Das Buch Jeremia. Kapitel 21–52 (ATD 21), Göttingen 2013. SEDLMEIER, F., Das Buch Ezechiel. Kapitel 25–48 (NSK.AT 21/2), Stuttgart 2013. SONNET, J.-P., “Redefining the Plot of Deuteronomy – From End to Beginning. The Import of Deut 34:9”, in: G. Fischer et al. (eds.), Deuteronomium – Tora für eine neue Generation (BZAR 17), Wiesbaden 2011, 37–49. STULMAN, L., Order Amid Chaos: Jeremiah as Symbolic Tapestry (BiSe 57), Sheffield 1998. WÖHRLE, J., “Die Rehabilitierung Jojachins. Zur Entstehung und Intention von 2 Kön 24,17–25,30”, in: I. Kottsieper et al. (eds.), Berührungspunkte: Studien zur Sozial- und Religionsgeschichte Israels und seiner Umwelt (FS R. Albertz; AOAT 350), Münster 2008, 213–238. ZIEMER, B., “Das 23. Jahr Nebukadnezzars (Jer 52,30) und die ‘70 Jahre für Babel’”, in: J. Kotjatko-Reeb et al. (eds.), Nichts Neues unter der Sonne? (FS E.-J. Waschke; BZAW 450), Berlin 2014, 187–212.

Zedekiah’s Release of Slaves as the Babylonians Besiege Jerusalem Jeremiah 34 and the Formation of the Pentateuch Bernard M. Levinson 1. Introduction The focus of this volume is on examining the relation between literature and history, between the rise of the Torah and the fall of Jerusalem.1 The narrative of Zedekiah’s manumission of slaves in Jer 34, as the Babylonian army besieges Jerusalem, provides a valuable opportunity to address this topic. In the narrative setting, the destruction of Jerusalem is just around the corner. It is already in the air. Equally present in the text, however, playing just as commanding a role as does the invading Babylonian army, is the Torah, made repeatedly evident through a tight weave of citations and allusions to biblical law. The relation between the ostensible historical context of Jer 34, set in the last days of preexilic Judah, nearly on the eve of the fall of Jerusalem, and the chapter’s multiple allusions to Torah, raises crucial questions about the relation of literature and history that help complicate our understanding of both. The literary setting of the narrative of Zedekiah’s release of slaves in Jer 34:8–22 places it in the context of the Babylonian siege of Jerusalem in 589– 588 BCE. King Zedekiah, in what may have been a desperate bid to save the city from destruction, establishes a covenant with the people of Jerusalem to implement a general manumission of slaves. The narrative is incomplete, however. It does not indicate the circumstances that led up to Zedekiah’s decision to declare a manumission; rather, it begins midway through the story – after Zedekiah and the people had created a manumission covenant (v. 8), and after the people, for some unspecified reason, had abrogated that covenant by re-enslaving those who had been freed (v. 11). The narrative shows little interest in explaining the Judeans’ decision to break the covenant. Instead, the focus of the text is 1 Appreciation for the splendid organization of the conference on which this volume is based goes to Dominik Markl, Jean-Pierre Sonnet, Peter Dubovský, and to the Jesuit community of the Pontifical Biblical Institute, for their generous hospitality. Special thanks to Jean-Pierre Sonnet for many fruitful conversations about the exegetical transformations of the manumission laws.

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on the consequences of that decision. Implicit in the prophetic judgment that follows the narrative is an announcement of a talionic punishment, whereby the actions that the people have taken with respect to their slaves will correspond to the actions God will take with respect to the people of Jerusalem.2 God declares in v. 17 that, since the people have recaptured their slaves, God is going to allow the Babylonians to take the Judean population hostage. Biblical scholarship has tended to reify the narrative setting of the Jerusalem siege as if it were the actual historical context of the chapter itself. In addition, because the content of the chapter brings together elements related to both prophetic history and pentateuchal law, Jer 34 has held a privileged place in both pentateuchal studies and Jeremiah scholarship since the early days of historicalcritical scholarship on the Bible. On the one hand, the chapter appears to cite the manumission law of Deut 15, and it has therefore been used to establish the sequence of the pentateuchal legal sources. On the other hand, it plays an equally important role in reconstructions of the compositional history and literary layers of the book of Jeremiah. Scholars in each field approach the chapter from the perspective of a relatively fixed set of predictable questions that were essentially determined, in both cases, a century ago. In the case of pentateuchal theory, the basic argument was established by Julius Wellhausen in his analysis of the development of the festival calendar in the Prolegomena and the briefer remarks in Die Composition des Hexateuchs.3 In the case of Jeremiah scholarship, the efforts of Bernhard Duhm and Sigmund Mowinckel to work out the book’s compositional layers have provided the foundation of most subsequent research.4 So entrenched are the questions asked in each case that the contours of the text are obscured, along with the reality of its intellectual and theological life. The conventional assumptions about the dating and composition of this narrative have even had an impact upon text-critical work on the chapter, creating a circular argument regarding which material should be considered original and which should be removed as a secondary overlay. The harder the models are pushed to explain the evidence, the more they break down into contradiction. What finally emerges is a parade example of how a heuristic model, once fossilized, begins to obscure that which it was designed to illuminate. This chapter proposes an alternative solution. The proper background for understanding the composition of Jer 34 is not the imminent destruction of Jerusalem but rather the formation of the Pentateuch. Existing approaches have confused the narrative staging and literary setting of the chapter with its historical and literary genesis. Contrary to these approaches, the chapter truly becomes intelligible only once it is recognized that its author knew the pentateuchal legal 2

MILLER, “Sin and Judgment”. WELLHAUSEN, Prolegomena, 114; ET: 119–120; and idem, Composition des Hexateuchs, 167. 4 DUHM, Jeremia, xx–xxxiv; MOWINCKEL, Komposition, esp. 20–33; and, slightly modifying his original position, idem, Prophecy and Tradition, 62–64. 3

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sources and exploited them to craft a brilliant exegetical homily on the cause of the Babylonian exile. His halakic midrash justifies the exile as punishment for covenantal transgression, for breach of Torah, now meaning an exegetical blend of the manumission laws of Deuteronomy and the Holiness Code. The chapter is a theodicy, one that presupposes not only the formation of the Pentateuch, but a sophisticated process of hermeneutics. An initial discussion of the traditional approaches in both pentateuchal and Jeremianic studies will demonstrate how scholarship to date has overlooked this explanation of the text. This review will then necessitate taking a fresh look at the text itself, noting the ways in which the author has carefully combined his sources to support his theological message. Finally, the concluding section will discuss the implications of this analysis for our understanding of the relationship of Jer 34 to the formation of the Pentateuch.

2. Traditional Approaches to the Study of Jeremiah 34 A logical starting-point for a review of the history of Jer 34 in pentateuchal studies exists in the work of Wellhausen. He argues that Jer 34 provides a very simple but necessary pivot point between preexilic and exilic. The Covenant Code, requiring manumission of male slaves in the seventh year, comes first. Then follows Deuteronomy, revised in certain details, but with the same basic numerical scheme. Next in the sequence is Jer 34, where Zedekiah’s release of slaves is presented as compliance with Deuteronomic law, and where there is no evidence of the distinctively Holiness Code concept of a jubilee in the fiftieth year. Thus, the Holiness Code comes last in the diachronic sequence.5 The idea that Jeremiah as prophet delivers the crucial explanation for the exile as just punishment for Judah’s transgression of the covenant is also fully present in the final chapter of the Book of Chronicles (2 Chr 36). Strikingly, in this passage Jeremiah has been transformed into an exegetical prophet whose oracles presuppose Torah. His famous seventy-year oracle has been aligned with the blessings and curses section of the Holiness Code (Lev 26) to create a new textual blend of law and prophecy, each introduced by its own fulfilment formula: ‫למלאות דבר יהוה בפי ירמיהו עד רצתה הארץ‬ ‫את שבתותיה כל ימי השמה שבתה למלאות שבעים שנה‬ … to fulfil the word of Yahweh through Jeremiah, until the land has satisfied its Sabbaths. For the entire period of the destruction it will observe its Sabbaths: to fulfil seventy years. (2 Chr 36:21).6 5

WELLHAUSEN, Prolegomena, 114; ET: 119–120. English translations of biblical passages cited in this chapter follow the NRSV, with modifications as needed to highlight relevant lexical or grammatical features of the original Hebrew text. 6

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S. R. Driver follows exactly the same model as Wellhausen, adding only the nuance that the abject failure of manumission in the seventh year under Zedekiah in Jer 34 confirms that the social legislation of the Covenant Code and Deuteronomy were too utopian and too contrary to human self-interest ever to succeed. On the basis of that historical experience, therefore, the Holiness Code delays manumission to the fiftieth year.7 The essential outlines of this analysis have held for decades. The few challenges have not found wide acceptance.8 Ironically, scholars in pentateuchal theory continue to mine Jer 34 – as if it were a simple historical source and pivot point – more than they actually read the text. That generalization holds true even for the series of studies over the past forty years that have sought to use the manumission laws in order to challenge the standard model of the Documentary Hypothesis, whether arguing, as do Jacob Milgrom and Sara Japhet, that the Holiness Code is preexilic,9 or seeking, like John Van Seters, to place the Covenant Code as subsequent to Deuteronomy.10 It seems that the challenges to the Wellhausen model follow Wellhausen precisely to the point of transition. They continue to read Jer 34 as a historical source; they read it not for itself, but to get somewhere else, to establish the relative sequence of D and H, with Jer 34 merely being viewed as a fulcrum point.11 7

DRIVER, Deuteronomy, 181–185. The main challenge, both on the German and on the Israeli sides, is to dispute literary dependence altogether: to see the three pentateuchal manumission laws, not as representing the development of legislation, but rather as independent crystallizations of a common legal scheme. That argument is mapped out most comprehensively by the Israeli scholar Yehezkel Kaufmann (Toledot, 1:113–142, 201–203 [in Hebrew]; abridged as The Religion of Israel, 205). A significant early effort is that of Carl Steuernagel, who denies the dependence of Deut’s manumission law upon that of the Covenant Code on the basis that the stipulations in Exod 21:3–4 lack correspondence in Deut 15:12–18 (Deuteronomium, 110). For a recent reflection of that same objection on linguistic grounds, overlooking the similarity to Steuernagel’s position, see MORROW, Scribing the Center, 116. Arguing against both authors, and responding to the substantive issue, see OTTO, Deuteronomium, 310 n. 467. 9 See JAPHET, “Laws of Manumission”. Japhet’s article explicitly addresses the problem of the literary relation between the various manumission laws and seeks to develop criteria to establish their correct sequence. See also MILGROM, Leviticus 23–27, 2254–2258. 10 VAN SETERS, Law Book for the Diaspora, esp. 82–95. This work draws upon a series of earlier studies, including one on the manumission laws: idem, “Law of the Hebrew Slave”. For the most sustained analysis of the literary relation of the manumission laws of D and CC in recent years, see LOHFINK, “Fortschreibung?” This important study, overlooked by Van Seters in Law Book for the Diaspora, demonstrates the extent to which the manumission law in Deut can only be understood as a significant literary reworking of the law found in the Covenant Code. Lohfink develops important methodological criteria to distinguish the concept of Fortschreibung from alternative models of literary reworking. For a more detailed assessment of the arguments of Van Seters, as well as those of Japhet and Milgrom, see LEVINSON, “Manumission”, 285–304. 11 For a recent presentation of the argument that H employs Jer 34:8–22 as a source in its formulation of the jubilee legislation of Lev 25:8–55, see LEUCHTER, “Manumission Laws”. 8

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The equal but opposite issue applies to the studies of Jer 34 from the point of view of Jeremiah scholarship. In contrast to pentateuchal scholars, who attempt to use Jer 34 as a historical source to establish the diachronic sequence of the legal sources of the Pentateuch, Jeremiah scholars isolate – or construct – various compositional layers within Jer 34 to get to a historical source within the text.12 Verses 8–22 are broadly viewed as composite, with the initial prologue and the long sermon construed as Deuteronomistic supplements to a potential historical core, one that is sometimes construed as reflecting a royal annal. The objective is to determine how much of the ipsissima verba of the prophet may be recovered. The driving questions become whether or not the prose material of vv. 8–22 may be attributed to Baruch’s so-called prophetic biography (referred to in older scholarship as source B), or whether it is primarily a Deuteronomistic homily (again, in older scholarship, known as source C), either with or without a Baruch core (vv. 8–11). This cluster of questions about Jer 34 in effect is concerned with the larger issue of how much authentic material may be recovered from the chapter, with “authentic” here contextually defined as preexilic and therefore historically reliable. If a valid pre-Deuteronomistic core can be recovered, it would then generate a preexilic witness to the life of the prophet. Among the specific theories that have been proposed for Jer 34, Wilhelm Rudolph and Niels Peter Lemche long ago saw that there are literary tensions in the text.13A universal release of slaves as an exceptional and ad hoc event to solve an emerging threat of war, as in v. 8, cannot easily co-exist with a standing law that is periodic and that requires the regular release of all slaves, as in vv. 13–14. The usual response of jettisoning these verses as later additions to the text, however, does not begin to address the problems. Ironically, this standard model fails to account for a number of issues in the composition of Jer 34. In some cases, it even fails to see the problems accurately. Even the potential shift of paradigm opened up by Christl Maier, who properly frames the issue in terms of Torah as the focus of the chapter, still restricts the discussion to the conventional approach, as an annalistic source receives, first, an expansion that artificially relates the chapter to the legislation of Deuteronomy, and second, a postexilic revision that shifts the basic core text into a sermonic harangue.14 12 See, for example, WEIPPERT, Prosareden, 86–106; THIEL, Deuteronomistische Redaktion, 38–43; MCKANE, Jeremiah II, 878–882; and Nicholson, who sees Jer 34:8–22 as a Deuteronomistic composition, but who nevertheless does not question the historicity of the account (Preaching to the Exiles, 63–65). 13 RUDOLPH, Jeremia, 203–206; and LEMCHE, “Manumission”, 51–53. 14 MAIER, Jeremia, 249–281 (esp. 260–265).

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Thus, the various positions on Jer 34 seem to move within a single universe. The redactional issues are defined in terms of a single question: which verses are Jeremianic, and which are Deuteronomistic.15 The assumption is that Deuteronomy and its literary history are the only relevant considerations. All of the important challenges or modifications still move within this model and confirm its assumptions. The problem with these approaches is that they do not work. They explain away the evidence that most challenges their own explanatory model, and relegate the material that does not fit the model into problems of syntax, textcriticism or secondary expansion. It is as if an archaeologist working to date a stratum were to ignore the obvious implications of an entire cluster of evidence from a later period that was distributed throughout the stratum, but that interfered with his or her assumption that this layer was ancient. A proper understanding of Jer 34 requires taking a fresh look at the text, to examine how the chapter works in terms of its own rationale. Drawing out the diachronic and textcritical implications of the analysis will demonstrate that a new explanation of the text is needed.

3. Analysis of the Text As discussed above, scholars have long argued that the core of this text is an annalistic source recounting an actual manumission decreed by Zedekiah and subsequently abrogated by the Judeans. This original historical account was then followed by a judgment oracle condemning the reversal of the manumission. Finally, later redactions of the text added interpretations of the events first in Deuteronomic terms, and later in terms of the Holiness Code. This basic approach appears in Rudolph and is retained most recently by Christl Maier.16 The point on which this theory falters, however, is that the text does not divide neatly into its hypothesized compositional layers. Attempts to reconstruct the original Jeremianic judgment oracle that accompanied the historical summary in vv. 8–11 are particularly problematic. Scholars argue either that vv. 12–22 cannot be attributed to Jeremiah,17 or that the ipsissima verba of 15

An important exception, however, is represented by the work of Georg Fischer, for whom the entire book of Jer, viewed as a unity, represents a tight weave of intertextual allusions to the complete Torah, as well as to many of the other prophetic books. For his discussion of Jer 34, see FISCHER, Jeremia 26–52, 242–260. 16 RUDOLPH, Jeremia, 203–204; and MAIER, Jeremia, 264–265. 17 For a discussion of the “literary coherence” of these verses, see MCKANE, Jeremiah II, 878–882. Winfried Thiel does offer a source division of the text that would combine an annalistic account taken from vv. 8b–11 with vv. 12–13a as a bridge to a brief announcement of judgment, spoken by God, in v. 18: ‫ונתתי את־האנשים העברים את־ברתי אשר כרתו‬

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Jeremiah cannot be reconstructed from them.18 Absent the judgment oracle, the whole rationale for the inclusion of the account of the manumission and its reversal in the book of Jeremiah collapses. In other words, the very fact that a preexilic Jeremianic condemnation of the events narrated in the account cannot be clearly identified within the passage should begin to raise questions altogether about the rationale for the inclusion of such an incident in Jeremiah. Such circumstances demand consideration of the likelihood that the incident was constructed, from the very beginning, as a transgression of Torah, and that the account never existed in Jeremiah separate from and prior to the composition of the chapter as a whole. Moreover, the inability to recover a preexilic annalistic core and judgment oracle in the text also calls into question the assumed position of Jer 34 as an “Archimedean point” in the relative dating of the pentateuchal sources. Freed from the need to assume a Jeremianic layer within the chapter, the text can be examined anew to determine whether any justification exists for stratifying its content. The results of such an examination indicate that Jer 34 represents a compositional unity; it combines the manumission laws of Deuteronomy and the Holiness Code with Deuteronomy’s law regarding the remission of debts and with the Holiness Code’s Jubilee Year law. In other words, this text is a response to the legal sources of the Pentateuch, not a transition point between them.19 To review the evidence related to these claims about Jer 34, the best approach may be to start with the technical legal formula in v. 14 that serves as the literary pivot between the narrative and the homily in Jer 34, and then work outwards from there to the narrative frame of the text. Figure 1 below shows Deuteronomy’s laws of debt release and manumission alongside the text of Jer 34:14. ‫“( לפני העגל אשר כרתו לשנים ויעברו בין בתריו׃‬I will make those who transgressed my covenant, which they made before me, like the calf that they cut in two and passed between its parts” [Deuteronomistische Redaktion, 39–42]). However, his reconstruction of the preDeuteronomic oracle is complicated by the fact that it requires excising a phrase which Thiel attributes to D from v. 18a: ‫“( אשר לא־הקימו את־דברי הברית‬who did not keep the terms of the covenant” [ibid., 41]). 18 NICHOLSON, Preaching to the Exiles, 64. 19 Citing language characteristic of D and of H present in Jer 34, Moshe Weinfeld argues that Jer 34 must draw upon both legal sources, but he fails to consider the consequences of his analysis. Given his assumptions about the preexilic dating of H and D, which he views as contemporary with one another, he argues for the historical nature also of Jer 34 (“Sabbatical Year”, 41–42). John Bergsma directly follows Weinfeld in recognizing the way that Jer 34 draws upon both H and D, but similarly uses that observation as a way to argue for Jer 34 as a historical account. See BERGSMA, “Manumission Laws”, 88–89; and idem, Jubilee, 160–170.

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Deuteronomic Law ‫מקץ שבע שנים תעשה שמטה‬

Zedekiah’s Release of Slaves ‫מקץ שבע שנים‬

(Deut 15:1)

‫כי ימכר לך אחיך העברי או העבריה‬ ‫ועבדך שש שנים‬ ‫ובשנה השביעת‬ ‫תשלחנו חפשי מעמך‬

‫שלחו איש את אחיו העברי אשר ימכר לך‬ ‫ועבדך שש שנים‬ ‫ושלחתו חפשי מעמך‬ ‫ולא שמעו אבותיכם אלי ולא הטו את אזנם‬

(Deut 15:12)

(Jer 34:14)

Every seventh year you shall practice remission of debts. (Deut 15:1)

Every seventh year each of you must send free

If your brother, whether male Hebrew or female Hebrew, sell himself 20 to you, he shall serve you for six years, but in the seventh year you must send him free from you.

his Hebrew brother who has sold himself to you and has served you for six years;

(Deut 15:12)

you must send him free from you. But your ancestors neither listened to me nor inclined their ears to me. (Jer 34:14)

Figure 1: Jeremiah 34 as Exegetical Blend of Deuteronomy’s Debt Release and Manumission Laws

The author of Jer 34 draws upon two different laws in Deut 15 and reworks them to create a new exegetical blend that is presented as a citation of an ancient legal tradition. He takes the temporal clause of D’s law for remission of debts in Deut 15:1 (‫)מקץ שבע שנים‬, the phrase that is double-underlined in Figure 1, and splices it into the manumission law of Deut 15:12. The phrases from D’s manumission law that are carried over into Jer 34:14 are shown with a single underline in the figure. They include references to the fellow Hebrew who has sold himself into slavery and requirements that the term of service be limited to six years. The blend of Deuteronomy’s originally independent regulations for debt remission and manumission creates a law that, although presented in Jer 34:13 as ancient, is in reality an innovation. The author of Jer 34 depicts God as citing a law that never actually existed – a prescription for universal manumission in the seventh year. That reuse should already make clear that the author of Jer 34 is not concerned passively to depict the enactment of (and subsequent transgression of) prior legislation.21 20

Pace NRSV; see NRSV margin. The fact that Jer 34:14a ostensibly cites Deut 15:12a but refers only to the male slave has been taken as evidence that an earlier formulation of Deut 15:12 omitted the phrase “or a 21

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The reworking of Deut 15 is just one example of a pattern of similar exegetical blends throughout Jer 34:8–22. Another example occurs at the beginning of this unit. Verse 8 informs the audience that Zedekiah had “made a covenant with all the people in Jerusalem to make a proclamation of liberty to them” (‫)כרת המלך צדקיהו ברית את כל העם אשר בירושלם לקרא להם דרור‬. Verse 9 then provides the details of Zedekiah’s manumission, which apparently was not a general release of all slaves, but rather was limited to Hebrew slaves: ‫לשלח איש את עבדו ואיש את שפחתו העברי והעבריה חפשים‬ ‫לבלתי עבד בם ביהודי אחיהו איש׃‬ … that each should set free his male Hebrew slave and his female Hebrew slave, so as not to compel them into bondage – namely, each man his fellow Judean (Jer 34:9).

The stated rationale for the manumission, “so as not to compel them into bondage”,22 suggests that the Hebrew slaves were to be freed because they should never have been enslaved in the first place. Figure 2 below shows how the motive clause in v. 9b contains a carefully constructed summary of the Holiness Code’s manumission law in Lev 25:39–46. The author of Jer 34 combines the opening prohibition in Lev 25:39 (underlined in the figure) with the closing relational language of Lev 25:46 (double underlined). Note also the problematic syntax of the resulting passage in Jer 34:9b, which the English translation in the bottom right box in figure 2 attempts to highlight. Despite the awkward phrasing, the joining in Jer 34:9b of the opening and closing verses from the Leviticus passage creates a motive for Zedekiah’s manumission that is consistent with H’s ideology – that the slaves are to be freed because they are Hebrews and, according to Lev 25, Hebrews are not to be enslaved in the same way that the peoples of other nations are enslaved. female Hebrew” (‫ )או העבריה‬from the law’s protasis. Such reconstructions, which treat ‫ או העבריה‬as secondary, are untenable. They miss the intentionality of the pointed comment in Deut; the phrase serves specifically to reject the prior law of the Covenant Code, which has an entirely separate law for the treatment of female slaves (Exod 21:7–11; for further discussion, see LEVINSON, “Manumission”, 301–304). Since Jer 34:14 is interpreting and reformulating Deuteronomic law (by joining the time formula for remission of debts in the sabbatical year in Deut 15:1 to the continuation of the manumission law in Deut 15:12), it is more likely that v. 14a represents a simplification of the formulation in Deut rather than a basis for reconstructing any Vorlage. Contrast DAVID, “The Manumission of Slaves under Zedekiah”, 72–73; MERENDINO, Das deuteronomische Gesetz, 113 (deleting the reference to both male and female); CARDELLINI, “Sklaven”-Gesetze, 272–276, 318; FISHBANE, Biblical Interpretation, 211 n. 99; CHAVEL, “‘Let My People Go’!”, 90–91; and LAL WIJESINGHE, Jeremiah 34,8–22, 92. 22 The slavery idiom used in Jer 34:9b, ‫ עבד‬+ ‫ב‬, is employed in the manumission law in H (Lev 25:39–46) to describe the type of servitude that an Israelite master may not impose upon a fellow Israelite. The idiom combines the qal verb with prepositional ‫ב‬, thereby becoming functionally a causative, semantically equivalent to the hipʿil form of the same verb. It means “to make to work” or, with a human subject, “to enslave” (see Exod 1:14; Deut 15:19, 21:3 [puʿal]; Isa 14:3 [puʿal]; Jer 22:13, 25:14, 27:7, 30:8; Ezek 34:27). For further discussion, see LEVINSON, “Birth of the Lemma”, 622 n. 12.Clearly recognizing this usage and providing further literature, see RINGGREN et al., “‫” ָע ַבד‬.

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Figure 2: Zedekiah’s Release of Slaves as Exegetical Précis of the Holiness Code Slave Law (Lev 25:39–46)

Unfortunately, within the larger narrative of Jer 34:8–22, the motive for Zedekiah’s manumission that is provided in 34:9b creates an apparent conflict with the motive clause in 34:14. Verse 14 draws on Deut 15 to rationalize the release of slaves as compliance with a required universal manumission every seven years, but v. 9b motivates the manumission by alluding to the Holiness Code requirement not to enslave a fellow Hebrew. The standard model that views H as later than the main Deuteronomistic version of Jeremiah avoids this apparent disconnect by claiming that the H reference in Jer 34:9b is a later scribal interpolation. However, this reasoning does not account for the internal logic of the chapter as presented by its author. Here, the rationale behind the law created in v. 14 can shed light on the composition of v. 9b. The relevant question is, what precedent was there for the new law constructed in Jer 34:14? The Covenant Code and Deuteronomy already agree that the term of indenture for an Israelite man should be six years, at the end of which time he would have fulfilled his contract and would be set free. These would have been individual contracts. Therefore, the date on which manumission took place would have varied by individual, according to when he began his indenture. The picture constructed in Jer 34:14 through exegetical reformulation of Deut 15 is very

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323

different: manumission occurs simultaneously every seventh year throughout the country. There is only one passage in biblical law that envisions a universal manumission: the Holiness Code jubilee legislation of Lev 25:39–46. Rather than postulating that the author of Jer 34 developed the idea of a universal release of slaves ex nihilo, it seems more reasonable that he was working with H as a literary precedent. In other words, the author who wrote the “Deuteronomic” law of v. 14 must also have been drawing on H for his inspiration. The question then becomes how to explain the two distinct justifications for manumission in Jer 34:9b and 14. The answer lies again in seeing this unit as an exegetical harmonization of the legal sources of the Pentateuch. Leviticus 25 explicitly allows a non-Hebrew slave to be held in perpetuity, while a Hebrew who sells himself should be treated as an indentured servant for the term of his service, which concludes in the Jubilee year. Jeremiah 34 follows H in v. 9b by rejecting the permanent enslavement of Hebrews, and it follows H again by creating a universal manumission in v. 14. Yet in order to harmonize the legal sources, the author also accepts the Deuteronomic six-year term of service for a Hebrew in v. 14.23 To anticipate an objection, given that only Jer 34 and Lev 25 envision a universal manumission, it is worth asking whether the direction of dependence could run in the opposite direction. That is, could H have taken the idea of a universal release from Jeremiah? This is unlikely. The syntactically difficult formulation of Jer 34:9b, ‫לבלתי עבד בם ביהודי אחיהו איש‬, represents an exegetical précis of the beginning and end of the manumission law of the Holiness Code, summarizing and integrating its key components. This précis places Jer 34 in the reception history of the Holiness Code, not the other way around. One final argument deserves mention in the discussion of evidence against the idea that Jer 34 contains a historical core with two stages of secondary additions (Deuteronomic and Holiness), as maintained by Maier.24 While clearly drawing upon earlier literary and legal sources, the chapter has a dramatic 23 While the available evidence is insufficient to definitively establish literary dependence, it may be that the legal harmonization in Jer 34 extends even further than D and H. The chapter may also be drawing upon the Covenant Code. More specifically, the presence of the noun ‫עבד‬, “slave”, in Jer 34:9, which here applies to fellow Judean citizens, may reflect the nominal formulation of the protasis of the manumission law of the Covenant Code: ‫( כי תקנה עבד עברי שש שנים יעבד ובשבעת יצא לחפשי חנם‬Exod 21:2). D avoids referring to the Israelite slave as an ‫ עבד‬except when discussing the possibility of permanent indenture (Deut 15:16–17a), in which the slave becomes technically an ‫“( עבד עולם‬perpetual slave”). H, on the other hand, applies the nominal form only to non-Israelites and forbids the noun’s application to in-group members of the community (Lev 25:39, 42, 46b). Accordingly, that Jer 34 employs the nominal form of “slave” with fellow citizens, in a way that differs from the term’s use in the manumission laws of both D and H, may point to its having had access to the manumission law of the Covenant Code. 24 MAIER, Jeremia, 264–265.

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literary and theological coherence that gives the passage its remarkable bite. In v. 8, the phrase ‫ לקרא להם דרור‬is used to express Zedekiah’s declaration of a manumission of slaves, and in v. 17 the same phrase is now used to indicate the punishment that Jerusalem will face for reversing and failing to honour the covenant of manumission. The oracle has God now proclaim a ‫ דרור‬against the population, setting free the Trias of punishments against Judah – sword, pestilence and starvation. It is almost as if God says, “You didn’t observe a dror? – I’ll show you a dror!” The exile is here elegantly presented as perfect “measure for measure” talionic punishment for breach of manumission.25 Those who re-enslaved the ones whom they manumitted will themselves become enslaved, in the Babylonian exile. Moreover, this group will remain enslaved, as previously noticed, for the period of the jubilee (587–539/8 = 49 years). This major compositional idea of the chapter has no direct precedent in the Pentateuch. Granted, both Deuteronomy and the Holiness Code treat faithful observance of the whole Law as a general condition of the covenant (Deut 7:12; Lev 26:14–15). Yet neither source’s manumission law specifies a punishment for its infraction. Nor does either D or H explicitly connect manumission with covenant, let alone define failure to implement manumission as a cause of exile. In other words, the larger theological, conceptual and judicial perspective of Jer 34 cannot be explained simply in terms of D or H. However extensively it draws upon its literary sources and appears to quote them, the text is a new synthesis and a creative transformation of its sources.

4. Jeremiah 34 as Reflecting Second Temple Jewish Legal Hermeneutics The preceding analysis has argued that the model that regards Jer 34 as the point of transition between D and H leaves a series of key issues unexplained. These issues are better resolved once the chapter is seen rather as belonging to the reception history of both D and H, and as seeking to integrate them into a coherent whole for theological and homiletical purposes, to provide an aetiology of exile. The end result is a text that represents a studied précis of the manumission laws of the Pentateuch. The combination is read into the narrative of Zedekiah’s manumission of slaves and presented consistently as its motive clause. It is not concerned with independent or original legal proclamations. Rather, its goal is to depict Zedekiah’s final, desperate effort at obedience, and God’s subsequent announcement of punishment, in a way that honours the legal traditions of ancient Israel. The historiography in this passage derives from the vantage point of its theology; the narrative is exegetical in origin. The theological explanation of 25

MILLER, “Sin and Judgment”.

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the exile represents the historical trigger for this narrative. It cannot be logically read as being triggered by immediate circumstances. It already looks at those circumstances through the lens of H. Paradoxically, the attempt to bear witness to tradition requires departure from it: a universal manumission in the seventh year is unattested in biblical law. Jeremiah’s prophetic oracle presents God as citing a law that never really existed, and, concomitantly, the Judeans are depicted as transgressing a statute that could never have been known to them. Despite Rudolph’s optimism,26 it does not appear that Jer 34 provides any access to late preexilic Judean social, legal or religious history.27 The chapter’s vivid narrative does not constitute a reliable historical witness to the circumstances leading to the destruction of Jerusalem at the hands of the Babylonian army. Instead the chapter confirms the skilful nature of scribal exegetical activity in the Persian period. The interpretation of Torah, and the alignment of Torah and prophecy, provided a way for postexilic Yehud to understand its past and to chart its future. The sophisticated techniques of making legal blends, attempting to harmonize related laws from different legal corpora, brings to mind the Temple Scroll.28 The extended focus upon the religious significance of both manumission and ‫ דרור‬as a means to bring about social equality and to transform the status quo was carried further and intensified in 11Q Melchizedek, where they finally become transformed into means of eschatological salvation.29 Jeremiah 34 thus provides a window into the creativity of Second Temple Jewish legal hermeneutics.

26

RUDOLPH, Jeremia, 205. Clearly noting the chronological distance of Jer 34 from its literary setting and its attempt to provide a theological explanation of Jerusalem’s destruction, see FISCHER, Jeremia 26–52, 253, 261. 28 On literary rearrangement and resequencing as a distinctive compositional technique in the Temple Scroll, see YADIN, Temple Scroll, 1:73–77. 29 BARTOS / LEVINSON, “Manner of the Remission”. 27

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Literature BARTOS, M. / LEVINSON, B. M., “ ‘This is the Manner of the Remission’: Legal Exegesis and Eschatological Syntax in 11QMelchizedek”, JBL 132 (2013) 351–371. BERGSMA, J., The Jubilee from Leviticus to Qumran: A History of Interpretation (VT.S 115), Leiden 2007. —, “The Biblical Manumission Laws: Has the Literary Dependence of H on D Been Demonstrated?” in: E. F. Mason et al. (eds.), A Teacher for All Generations: Essays in Honor of James C. VanderKam (2 vols., JSJ.S 153), Leiden 2012, 1:65–91. CARDELLINI, I., Die biblischen “Sklaven”-Gesetze im Lichte des keilschriftlichen Sklavenrechts: Ein Beitrag zur Tradition, Überlieferung und Redaktion der alttestamentlichen Rechtstexte (BBB 55), Königstein 1981. CHAVEL, S., “ ‘Let My People Go’! Emancipation, Revelation, and Scribal Activity in Jeremiah 34.8–14”, JSOT 76 (1997) 71–95. DAVID, M., “The Manumission of Slaves under Zedekiah”, OTS 5 (1948) 63–79. DRIVER, S. R., A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Deuteronomy, 3rd edn (ICC), Edinburgh 1902. DUHM, B., Das Buch Jeremia (KHC 11), Tübingen 1903. FISCHER, G., Jeremia 26–52 (HThKAT), Freiburg 2005. FISHBANE, M., Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel, 2nd edn, Oxford 1988. JAPHET, S., “The Laws of Manumission of Slaves”, in: I. Avishur / J. Blau (eds.), Studies in Bible and the Ancient Near East: Presented to Samuel E. Loewenstamm on his Seventieth Birthday, 2 vols., Jerusalem 1978, 2:231–249 (Hebrew). ET: “The Relationship between the Legal Corpora in the Pentateuch in Light of Manumission Laws”, in: S. Japhet (ed.), Studies in Bible, 1986 (ScrHie 31), Jerusalem 1986, 63–89. KAUFMANN, Y., Toledot ha-ʾemuna ha-yiśreʾelit, 8 vols. in 4, Jerusalem / Tel Aviv 1937–1956 (Hebrew). (Abridged as The Religion of Israel: From Its Beginnings to the Babylonian Exile [trans. M. Greenberg], Chicago 1960.) LAL WIJESINGHE, S., Jeremiah 34,8–22: Structure, and Redactional History of the Masoretic Text and of the Septuagint Hebrew Vorlage (Logos 37.1–2), Colombo, Sri Lanka 1999. LEMCHE, N. P., “The Manumission of Slaves: The Fallow Year, the Sabbatical Year, the Jobel Year”, VT 26 (1976) 38–59. LEUCHTER, M., “The Manumission Laws in Leviticus and Deuteronomy: The Jeremiah Connection”, JBL 127 (2008) 635–653. LEVINSON, B. M., “The Birth of the Lemma: The Restrictive Reinterpretation of the Covenant Code’s Manumission Law by the Holiness Code (Leviticus 25:44–46)”, JBL 124 (2005) 617–639. —, “The Manumission of Hermeneutics: The Slave Laws of the Pentateuch as a Challenge to Contemporary Pentateuchal Theory”, in: A. Lemaire (ed.), Congress Volume Leiden 2004 (VT.S 109), Leiden 2006, 281–324. LOHFINK, N., “Fortschreibung? Zur Technik von Rechtsrevisionen im deuteronomischen Bereich, erörtert an Deuteronomium 12, Ex 21,2–11, und Dtn 15,12–18”, in: T. Veijola (ed.), Das Deuteronomium und seine Querbeziehungen (Schriften der Finnischen Exegetischen Gesellschaft 62), Göttingen 1996, 133–181 (repr., idem, Studien zum Deuteronomium und zur deuteronomistischen Literatur, IV [SBAB 31] Stuttgart 2000, 163–203). MAIER, C., Jeremia als Lehrer der Tora: Soziale Gebote des Deuteronomiums in Fortschreibungen des Jeremiabuches (FRLANT 196), Göttingen 2002. MCKANE, W., A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Jeremiah II (ICC), Edinburgh 1996.

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MERENDINO, R. P., Das deuteronomische Gesetz: Eine literarkritische, gattungs- und überlieferungsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zu Dt 12–26 (BBB 31), Bonn 1969. MILGROM, J., Leviticus 23–27: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AncB 3B), New York 2001. MILLER, P. D., “Sin and Judgment in Jeremiah 34:17–19”, JBL 103 (1984) 611–613. MORROW, W. S., Scribing the Center: Organization and Redaction in Deuteronomy 14:1–17:13 (SBL.MS 49), Atlanta 1995. MOWINCKEL, S., Zur Komposition des Buches Jeremia, Kristiania 1914. —, Prophecy and Tradition: The Prophetic Books in Light of the Study of the Growth and History of the Tradition, Oslo 1946. NICHOLSON, E. W., Preaching to the Exiles: A Study of the Prose Tradition in the Book of Jeremiah, Oxford 1970. OTTO, E., Das Deuteronomium: Politische Theologie und Rechtsreform in Juda und Assyrien (BZAW 284), Berlin 1999. RINGGREN, H. et al., “‫‘ ָע ַבד‬āḇaḏ”, ThWAT 5 (1986) 982–1011. RUDOLPH, W., Jeremia (HAT I 12), 2nd edn, Tübingen 1958. STEUERNAGEL, C., Das Deuteronomium (HAT I 3.1), 2nd edn, Göttingen 1923. THIEL, W., Die deuteronomistische Redaktion von Jeremiah 26–45 (WMANT 52), NeukirchenVluyn 1981. VAN SETERS, J., “The Law of the Hebrew Slave”, ZAW 108 (1996) 534–546. —, A Law Book for the Diaspora: Revision in the Study of the Covenant Code, New York 2003. WEINFELD, M., “Sabbatical Year and Jubilee in the Pentateuchal Laws and Their Ancient Near Eastern Background”, in: T. Veijola (ed.), Law in the Bible and Its Environment, Helsinki / Göttingen 1990, 39–62. WEIPPERT, H., Die Prosareden des Jeremiabuches (BZAW 132), Berlin 1973. WELLHAUSEN, J., Prolegomena zur Geschichte Israels, 2nd edn, Berlin 1883 (repr. from 6th edn [1927], with an index of biblical references, Berlin / New York 2001). ET: Prolegomena to the History of Israel (trans. J. S. Black and A. Menzies), Edinburgh 1885 (repr., with a foreword by D. A. Knight [Scholars Press Reprints and Translation Series 17], Atlanta 1994). —, Die Composition des Hexateuchs und der historischen Bücher des Alten Testaments, 3rd edn, Berlin 1899. Repr., as 4th edn, Berlin 1963 (first published as “Die Composition des Hexateuchs”, JDTh 21 [1876] 392–450, 531–602; and 22 [1877] 407–479). YADIN, Y., The Temple Scroll, 3 vols., Jerusalem 1977–1983.

Remembering the Exodus in the Wake of Catastrophe Ronald Hendel The Babylonian conquests of Judah in 597 and 586 BCE and the accompanying waves of mass exile caused a fundamental change in the collective memory of ancient Israel. As we can see in the exilic writings and in exilic / postexilic updatings of older biblical texts, what once was a relatively triumphal national narrative had turned to tragedy. A supplement to Isa 6 provides a powerful evocation of this situation: ‫שאו ערים מאין יושב‬ ‫ובתים מאין אדם‬ ‫והאדמה תשאה שממה׃‬ ‫ורחק יהוה את־האדם‬ ‫ורבה העזובה בקרב הארץ׃‬

11 The cities lay waste without inhabitants, and the houses are without people, and the land is a desolate waste. 12 YHWH will make the people distant, and the abandoned places many in the midst of the earth.

(Isa 6:11–12)

The poetic rhetoric of this text is illuminating and worth unpacking. In the opening triplet, the subject, ‫“( ערים מאין יושב‬cities without inhabitants”) is paralleled by its constituent units, ‫“( בתים מאין אדם‬houses without people”). The focus narrows, as if in a cinematic close-up, from the cities to the individual houses and from the general (“inhabitants”) to the specific (“people”). The phrase ‫“( מאין אדם‬without people”) has a tragic resonance, as if it were a total destruction like the Flood. In the third line of the triplet, the text pivots from destroyed culture to destroyed nature: ‫“( האדמה תשאה שממה‬the land is a desolate waste”). The wordplay of ‫ אדם‬and ‫“( האדמה‬human” and “land, soil”), which are in chiastic parallel, has a strong resonance, recalling the primal link between human and soil (cf. the Garden of Eden story).1 The absence of ‫ אדם‬is reinforced by the desolation of ‫האדמה‬. This progression is enclosed by the repetition of the initial verb ‫“( שאו‬lay waste”, applied to cities and houses) in ‫“( תשאה שממה‬is a desolate waste”, applied to the land), binding together the devastation of nature and culture. The following couplet turns the focus to the cause of destruction and the locale of the people, and then back to the destroyed homeland. The initial verb, ‫[“( ורחק‬he] will distance”), is in the future tense, which marks the text as a prophetic oracle. This rhetorical distancing of the action sets the stage for the identification of the agent behind the devastation: “YHWH will make the people 1

See, e.g., HENDEL, “Leitwort Style”, 99, 104–105.

330

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distant”. That the agent is God – and not an earthly army – lifts the description to a metaphysical level, revealing the events as a consequence of the divine will. The object of YHWH’s action, ‫“( האדם‬the people”), extends the Leitwort sequence of ‫ אדם‬and ‫האדמה‬. It here revives the old motif of the exile of humans from the homeland (cf. again the Eden story) in the wake of the Babylonian exile. In the last line, the focus turns back from the periphery to Judah, which is now characterized as the ‫“( קרב הארץ‬the middle of the earth”). But in this central place there is only an abundance of ‫“( העזובה‬the abandoned places” or simply “the abandonment”). The homeland is an abandoned haunt. The rhetoric of these verses raises the condition of exile to what Robert Alter calls a “second power of signification”.2 Destruction and exile are portrayed as quasi-mythic events, as culture and nature are emptied out, and YHWH exiles humans from the earth’s centre. After catastrophe, Judah is redescribed as a Godforsaken wasteland. This portrait of the metaphysics of exile informs many responses to this catastrophe in the Hebrew Bible, including revisions of the cultural memory of the Exodus. Such collective trauma creates a need to re-examine and update the inherited contents of cultural memory. Judging from the pre-exilic writings of Hosea, Amos and others, the Exodus was a central narrative in Israel’s cultural memory.3 When cultural conditions change radically, cultural memory will also inevitably change. In this respect, a culture’s memory of the past is to some degree an “invented” tradition, since in changed circumstances a group must revise its heritage to make it relevant for the present. Correspondingly, the group must forget – or deliberately contest – aspects that are irrelevant or antithetical to present conditions. The revision of cultural memory in times of crisis is a strategy for survival. As in a natural ecology, if their cultural niche changes, a group’s survival mechanisms must adapt or the group will die. The fate of “culture death” occurred for other polities that were conquered by the Babylonians, for example the Philistines.4 The resilience of a culture is tied to its cultural memory: the past must change so that the group can survive the vicissitudes of the present. Revision of cultural memory in the wake of catastrophe has characteristic narratological and sociological features: (1) fluidity of details, as the past is repurposed; and (2) different memories for different groups, as expounded by authoritative interpreters. First, in the work of remaking the past to suit the exigencies of the present, narrative details can be surprisingly fluid. Wholly new events, themes and relationships can be invented and made prominent. Some prior details will be brought in the foreground while others are suppressed or forgotten. We will see below such innovations in the revisions of the Exodus: for example Ezekiel 2

ALTER, Art, 182: “the language of poetry in this and most other biblical prophecies … tends to lift the utterances to a second power of signification, aligning statements that are addressed to a concrete historical situation with an archetypal horizon”. 3 See HENDEL, “Exodus”, 87–97. 4 See STAGER, “Biblical Philistines”, 375–384.

Remembering the Exodus

331

imports Israelite idolatry into Egypt in order to make the Exodus a tragic model, while Second Isaiah foregrounds the way through the sea in order to make the Exodus a purely redemptive model. A supplemental editor in Genesis adds details to the story of Abraham in order to make the Exodus an esoteric prophecy, exposing YHWH’s plan in the longue durée. There is a wide range of possible variations in the narrative repurposing of the past. Second, different groups invent different memories as the past is repurposed. The clash of what we may call “counter-memories” is a constant in social discourse, since sub-groups will inevitably have conflicting interests. In periods of crisis, such clashes intensify as groups mobilize the past differently. The question of which group “owns” the past gives rise to new conflicts of representation. In the wake of the Babylonian exile, the exodus was revised differently by different groups and authoritative interpreters. As we will see, Ezekiel uses his revised exodus to denounce his exilic community and to prophesy an ambivalent future, while Second Isaiah mobilizes the exodus as a model for future utopia, feeding hope to his audience in desperate times. Since both were prophets – with the social charisma that comes with this office – their reformulations of the exodus memory had authoritative status, whether to the delight or consternation of their exilic audience. As Dalit Rom-Shiloni has recently emphasized, the Judeans in exile and those who remained in Judah clashed over many issues, including that of who was the “true” Israel.5 Each group mobilized the past differently to assert its primacy. In Ezekiel’s and Second Isaiah’s different representations of the exodus and its future entailments, we see divisions within the exilic communities. These different revisions of cultural memory – both within and without Judah – planted the seeds for further conflicts of cultural identity in the Persian and Hellenistic periods. Crisis inevitably yields revisions of cultural ethos and boundaries, creating the conditions for new cultural syntheses and, at times, sectarianism. Both occur in the wake of this catastrophe. In the following I will address three texts – Ezek 20:1–44, Isa 43:16–21 and Gen 15 – that revise and repurpose the exodus in the exilic / postexilic period in distinctive ways. Each reimagines the exodus as part of an attempt to make sense of things, to clarify the causal nexus that shapes the present. I will argue that each refashions the exodus as a theodicy, that is, a way to explain God’s justice in history. In a situation when the present seems chaotic, these reformulated cultural memories provide a model to overcome aporia, to provide an intelligible model for thought and action when the old models seem to be broken. But the revised models also establish a sense of continuity. The revised exodus is still recognizably the exodus, but is a richer version with altered details and ramifications. It is a new and improved (ein verbesserter) exodus. The revision of cultural memory blunts the perception that anything has truly changed, since it is, after all, the same story, propagated by authoritative 5

ROM-SHILONI, Exclusive Inclusivity.

332

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interpreters and celebrated by the same rituals. The refashioning of the past masks the fact that the present has changed; it smooths over the rough spots and breaks that crisis has caused. These three texts, I will argue, reimagine and repurpose the exodus in order to construct three different kinds of theodicy, which I characterize as tragic, comic and esoteric.6 These revisions of the exodus provide new conceptual and affective models for the exilic and postexilic communities. Eventually, in the literary crystallization of the books of the Pentateuch and Prophets, these new memories of the exodus rejoin the older pre-exilic textual versions, yielding a dialectic of competing and equivocal exodus memories.

1. Ezekiel 20: Tragic Theodicy Ezekiel is the strangest of the prophets, and chapter 20 is perhaps the most disturbing chapter in the book. In it the prophet refashions the exodus story into a dark and tragic archetype of the present disaster, in which YHWH’s purpose and Israel’s guilt are exposed as clashing forces in history. The chapter arguably has a layered compositional history, with 20:1–31 as the original composition, framed by the elders’ inquiry to Ezekiel (with a possible secondary expansion in vv. 27–29). This original layer refashions Israel during the exodus and wilderness generations as sinful rebels, providing a tragic mirror for the current sinful generation. The second half of the prophetic discourse, vv. 32–44, extends the exodus legacy into a future equivocal restoration. As Walther Zimmerli and others have argued, the second half is probably a later expansion, in line with the shift of prophetic perspective in the book from critique to restoration, presumably in the wake of the second wave of exile and the destruction of Jerusalem in 586 BCE.7 Since the language and tropes in both sections are distinctively Ezekielian, it is attractive to see the same hand in both parts. For the sake of simplicity – and with a measure of interpretative charity – I will attribute both parts to Ezekiel. At the very least, their strangeness coheres with the distinctive prophetic imagination that we call Ezekiel. Ezekiel invokes the exodus in response to YHWH’s prophetic command, ‫“( את־תועבת אבותם הודיעם‬Inform them of the abominations of their fathers”, Ezek 20:4). The exodus is the paradigm of Israel’s current abominations. This is a dramatic shift from the expected resonance of the exodus. Ezekiel seems to be taking considerable liberty in his refashioning of the exodus as a story of Israel’s transgressions toward YHWH rather than their deliverance by YHWH. As Moshe Greenberg comments: “Ezekiel projects current sin back to the origins of the people. As he portrays it, throughout Israel’s life in its land 6

These terms are indirectly derived from RICOEUR, Symbolism. ZIMMERLI, Ezekiel 1, 404–406; and recently ROM-SHILONI, “Facing Destruction”, 194–202. 7

Remembering the Exodus

333

its cult was perverted, idolatrous, an affront to YHWH. His contemporaries only carry on the corrupt practices of their ancestors.” 8 In his refashioning of the past, Ezekiel “read the past as a mirror of the present”.9 Ezekiel’s revision of the exodus is a paradigmatic case of the reinvention of cultural memory. Ezekiel recalls how, on the day that YHWH announced his plan to deliver Israel from Egypt (using language from Exod 6), YHWH commanded Israel to stop worshiping Egyptian gods. This detail is not known in the Pentateuch or any other biblical text: ‫ואמר אלהם‬ ‫איש שקוצי עיניו השליכו‬ ‫ובגלולי מצרים אל־תטמאו‬ ‫אני יהוה אלהיכם׃‬ ‫וימרו־בי‬ ‫ולא אבו לשמע אלי‬ ‫איש את־ שקוצי עיניהם‬ ‫לא השליכו‬ ‫ואת־גלולי מצרים לא עזבו‬

And I said to them, “Cast away the abominations of your eyes, and do not defile yourselves with the idols of Egypt; I am YHWH your God. But they rebelled against me and were not willing to heed me. No man cast away the abominations of their eyes, and they did not abandon the idols of Egypt”.

(Ezek 20:7–8)

As a consequence of this ancestral sin, Ezekiel says, YHWH determined to destroy Israel in the land of Egypt, venting his wrath on Israel instead of (in the older version of the story) Egypt. YHWH’s enemy in Egypt is Israel. The Egyptian bondage is forgotten, strategically so, since the current situation concerns YHWH’s wrath regarding Israel. Egypt provides the backdrop and the props (Egyptian gods and idols) for a refashioned memory of Israel’s original sin. In this tragic theodicy, YHWH restrains his wrath, not for Israel’s sake – since Israel is irredeemably guilty – but for the sake of YHWH’s name. ‫ואמר לשפך חמתי עליהם‬ ‫לכלות אפי בהם‬ ‫בתוך ארץ מצרים׃‬ ‫ואעש למען שמי‬ ‫לבלתי החל לעיני‬ ‫הגוים אשר־המה בתוכם‬ ‫אשר נודעתי‬ ‫אליהם לעיניהם‬ ‫להוציאם מארץ מצרים׃‬

I planned to pour out my wrath upon them to accomplish my anger against them in the midst of the land of Egypt. But I acted for the sake of my name, so that it should not be profaned in the eyes of the nations in whose midst they were, in whose sight I had made myself known to them [viz. Israel] to bring them out of the land of Egypt.

(Ezek 20:8–9)

YHWH’s plan of wrath was circumvented by his own honour (literally his name), which would suffer if he did not fulfil his promise to bring Israel out of Egypt. Honour is a publicly ascribed quality – hence the reference to the witnessing of the other nations – that defines an individual’s worth. Although 8 9

GREENBERG, Ezekiel 1–20, 385. GREENBERG, “Notes”, 37.

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Ronald Hendel

the principle of justice would require that YHWH destroy Israel in Egypt, the principle of YHWH’s honour prevents it. YHWH delivers Israel despite the fact that Israel does not merit it. He does this not because of compassion for Israel, but simply from self-interest. God’s actions in the exodus derived from his sense of honour, and had nothing to do with Israel’s (lack of) merit. Had God acted for Israel’s sake, he would have destroyed them.10 This theodicy of the exodus applies to the current situation, with the same phraseology: ‫בדרך אבותיכם אתם נטמאים ואחרי שקוציהם אתם זנים‬ (“you defile yourselves in the way of your fathers, and after your abominations you whore”, Ezek 20:30). The exile in Babylon is a recapitulation of the exile in Egypt. Israel continues to sin, and in response YHWH exiles them, but for the sake of his name he does not destroy them. They deserve destruction, but YHWH’s honour forbids it. In the second part of the text, Ezekiel announces an equivocal restoration, based on the same theodicy of Israel’s guilt and YHWH’s honour. In this future exodus, YHWH swears: ‫חי־אני נאם אדני יהוה אם־לא ביד חזקה ובזרוע‬ ‫“( נטויה ובחמה שפוכה אמלוך עליכם‬As I live, declares my lord YHWH, surely with a strong hand and an outstretched arm and with poured-out wrath I will rule over you”, Ezek 20:33). This declaration invokes the language of the exodus (“with a strong hand and an outstretched arm”),11 but strikingly adds a third divine quality, “with poured-out wrath”. YHWH’s mighty wrath is now redirected at Israel, not Egypt. YHWH’s rule over Israel will be coloured by his wrath. The enemy of the divine warrior is Israel. This is a theodicy, a justification of God’s actions in history as just. But God’s justice is, in a sense, antithetical to Israel’s merit. With an angry God to rule over them, Israel will be perpetually reminded of their worthlessness: ‫וזכרתם־שם את־דרכיכם ואת כל־עלילותיכם‬ ‫“( אשר נטמאתם בם ונקטתם בפניכם בכל־רעותיכם אשר עשיתם׃‬You will remember there your ways and all your deeds by which you defiled yourselves, and you will loathe yourselves for all of your evil deeds which you have done”, Ezek 20:43). Israel’s future cultural memory is wrapped in collective self-loathing. This is a grim restoration, based on Ezekiel’s tragic theodicy, which he derives from his radically revised memory of the exodus. It is close enough to the general contours of the exodus tradition to gain traction, since in the older version the Golden Calf and other stories of rebellion come in the wake of the exodus. But by collapsing the narratives of rebellion into the setting of Egyptian bondage, Ezekiel turns the valence of the exodus story upside-down. Because of Israel’s sins, they do not deserve redemption and deliverance. Israel is irredeemable in the past and the present. But YHWH’s justice is not ours. He acts for the sake of his own name, which transcends Israel’s goodness or evil. 10

On these issues, see SCHWARTZ, “View”, 43–67. On the use of Priestly and Deuteronomistic language in this text, see LEVITT KOHN, “Mighty Hand”, 159–168. 11

Remembering the Exodus

335

The outcome is exile, wrath and ultimately a future restoration coloured by self-loathing. Through Ezekiel’s tragic theodicy of the exodus, the punishment of Egypt is transmuted into a different kind of plague – as if conjured by Camus or Kafka – as Israel’s exile and restoration are plagued by God’s poured-out wrath and Israel’s irrevocable guilt.

2. Isaiah 43: Comic Theodicy By “comic theodicy” I mean an explanation of God’s justice that has a happy ending, in contrast with the tragic complications of Ezekiel’s theodicy. For Second Isaiah, the catastrophe of destruction and exile was sufficiently weighty – indeed, superabundant – to cancel out Israel’s previous transgressions. The prophet announces this in YHWH’s proclamation at the beginning of this section of Isaiah: ‫“( נרצה עונה כי לקחה מיד יהוה כפלים בכל־חטאתיה‬Her punishment [for iniquity] is accepted, for she has received from YHWH’s hand double for all her sins”, Isa 40:2). Unlike Ezekiel’s theodicy, Second Isaiah perceives the calculus of sin and punishment as cancelling out. YHWH’s justice has been wholly accomplished, and the people now have a clean slate. The ‫“( עצה‬plan”) of YHWH – a leitmotif in First and Second Isaiah12 – can begin anew. The “new exodus” is a repeated motif in Second Isaiah, evoking an imminent return from exilic bondage and a joyful restoration in the promised land.13 It is a recursion of the narrative plot of the first exodus, but with Babylonian exile as Egyptian house of bondage. Notably, the future defeat of Babylon is effortless – no plagues, no defeat of enemy troops. The new exodus is envisioned as a supernatural journey through a transformed nature to a golden age in Zion, where “eternal joy shall be upon their heads … and sorrow and sighing flee” (Isa 51:11 = 35:10). This is the happy ending of Second Isaiah’s theodicy. God’s justice yields utopia. The cultural memory of the exodus is refashioned according to Second Isaiah’s distinctive vision. The most extended treatment of the relationship between the old and new exodus is in Isa 43:16–21:14 ‫כה אמר יהוה‬ ‫הנותן בים דרך‬ ‫ובמים עזים נתיבה׃‬ ‫המוציא רכב־וסוס‬ ‫חיל ועזוז‬ 12

16 Thus says YHWH, who sets a way in the sea, a path in the mighty waters, 17 who brings out chariot and horse, army and warrior;

Isa 5:19; 14:24–27; 28:29; 40:13–14; 46:9–11; see WERNER, Studien, 11–129. See, e.g., ANDERSON, “Exodus Typology”, 177–195. 14 On this text, see recently PAUL, Isaiah 40–66, 215–218; MACCHI, “Choses”, 225–241. (I demur from the latter’s argument that this text is a late interpretive supplement, a relecture tardive, but this does not materially affect my discussion.) 13

336

Ronald Hendel

‫יחדו ישכבו בל־יקומו‬ ‫דעכו כפשתה כבו׃‬ ‫אל־תזכרו ראשנות‬ ‫וקדמניות אל־תתבננו׃‬ ‫הנני עשה חדשה‬ ‫עתה תצמח הלוא תדעוה‬ ‫אף אשים במדבר דרך‬ ‫בישמון ]נתיבות[׃‬ ‫תכבדני חית השדה‬ ‫תנים ובנות יענה‬ ‫כי־נתתי במדבר מים‬ ‫נהרות בישימן‬ ‫להשקות עמי בחירי׃‬ ‫עם־זו יצרתי לי‬ ‫תהלתי יספרו‬

together they lie down, they cannot rise, they are extinguished, quenched like a wick. 18 “Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. 19 Behold, I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? Surely I will make a way in the wilderness, [paths] in the desert. 20 The wild animals will honour me, the jackals and the ostriches; for I will set water in the wilderness, rivers in the desert, to give drink to my chosen people, 21 the people whom I formed for myself, they will recount my praise.”

This poetic unit has two different sections, distinguished by two voices. Verses 16–17 are in the prophet’s voice, and vv. 18–21 are in YHWH’s voice, quoted by the prophet. Let us unpack how these two sections juxtapose the concepts of the old and new exodus. In the first section, the prophet introduces YHWH in the expected oracular formula, “Thus says YHWH”. He then expands this introduction with three poetic lines (each a bicolon), describing YHWH’s agency in the exodus. However, by the use of attributive participles – ‫“( הנותן‬the one who sets”) and ‫המוציא‬ (“the one who brings”) – the time of YHWH’s actions is not limited to the past, but is durative or ongoing. These references to the exodus draw on the language of the Song of the Sea (Exod 15). As commentators have observed, the phrase ‫“( רכב־וסוס‬chariot and horse”) is an inverted echo of ‫“( סוס ורכבו‬horse and its rider”) in Exod 15:1, and the disposition of the defeated army evokes the repeated description of the destroyed enemy in Exod 15:4–10. The intertextual activation of Exod 15 resumes in the last line of the poem, where the phrase ‫“( עם־זו יצרתי‬people whom I formed / created”) echoes ‫“( עם־זו קנית‬the people whom you acquired / created”) in Exod 15:16, with the same construction and archaic relative pronoun. The evocation of the exodus is patent. But the memory of the exodus is subtly transmuted into a potential for a future exodus. Since YHWH is “the one who does this”, he can surely do it again. And since the defeated enemy is not explicitly marked as Egyptian, the identity of the enemy is potentially open. Into this deliberate blank one may insert any enemy, such as the Babylonians. By indirection and the use of durative forms for YHWH’s actions, the prophet refashions the exodus as a paradigmatic event that can potentially be repeated in the present or future. The exodus can be plural and imminent. By deliberately de-temporalizing YHWH’s agency in the exodus, the past becomes a template for the desired future. Having set the stage for YHWH’s oracle by activating and subtly recasting the memory of the exodus, the second part of the text is YHWH’s announcement

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of the new exodus. With dramatic irony, YHWH commands Israel to forget the past, which the prophet has just deliberately invoked. The forgotten past is a foil to the new future, which is presented as a new beginning. The dialectic of memory and forgetting is striking: ‫אל־תזכרו ראשנות‬ ‫וקדמניות אל־תתבננו׃‬ ‫הנני עשה חדשה‬ ‫עתה תצמח הלוא תדעוה‬

18 “Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. 19 Behold, I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?

A command to forget something is always odd, since it logically calls to memory the thing that is to be forgotten.15 (Compare the command to forget the memory of Amalek in Exod 17:14.) By this rhetoric of memory, the prophetic oracle seemingly blots out the past and inscribes the future in its place. But the invoked past bleeds through, like a palimpsest, creating a double writing in which the past and future are mutually represented. The command ‫אל־תזכרו ראשנות‬ (“do not remember the former things”, an immediate, punctual prohibition) is impossible to accomplish, yet it marks the dramatic change that is about to occur. This contrast between past and future is further signalled when YHWH says, “Behold, I am about to do a new thing”. Moreover, it has already started: ‫“( עתה תצמח הלוא תדעוה‬now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?”). The focus of the audience is redirected to the new divine acts. A caesura has occurred in Israel’s destiny. The former exodus is erased and overwritten by the new exodus. This is a transformation of memory, in which the past is transmuted into a new present / future. The cultural memory of the exodus is dramatically revised into a new exodus, whose signs are suddenly discernible. The details of the new exodus are presented – incompletely and suggestively – in the remainder of the oracle in vv. 19b–21. Several striking contrasts between the new and old exodus are deliberately drawn. In v. 16, YHWH makes a way in the water, activating the memory of the Re(e)d Sea: ‫ ובמים עזים‬/ ‫בים דרך‬ ‫“( נתיבה‬who makes a way in the sea, / a path in the mighty waters”). In the new exodus, the locale shifts from sea to desert. YHWH will make a way in the wilderness: [‫ בישמון ]נתיבות‬/ ‫“( במדבר דרך‬a way in the wilderness, / [paths] in the desert”). The past is not forgotten, but relocated to the Syrian desert. A contrast is also drawn between the destroyed Egyptian army in v. 17, who are inert and dead (“together they lie down, they cannot rise”), and the wild animals in the new exodus, who actively praise YHWH: “The wild animals will honour me, / the jackals and the ostriches”. The cultural enemies who have been destroyed are replaced with transformed nature, in which wild animals sing God’s praises. It is striking that there is no battle or defeated army in this new exodus. The defeat of the human enemy is erased and overwritten with joyful animal spectators. The catastrophic events of human culture are replaced 15

On this dynamic in Second Isaiah, see LEVIN, “Days”, 105–124.

338

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by idyllic nature. This is another point where the forgotten past is revised into an ideal future. The oracle of the new exodus ends with another twist on the language of old and new. The old exodus, in which YHWH made ‫“( בים דרך‬a way in the sea”) and the new one, for which he is making ‫“( במדבר דרך‬a way in the wilderness”) are fused into a new spatial synthesis, in which Y HWH creates water in the wilderness: ‫ נהרות בישימן‬/ ‫“( כי־נתתי במדבר מים‬for I will set water in the wilderness, / rivers in the desert”). This new waterway in the desert is, at least in part, what makes the wild animals praise God. The water is to refresh Israel in the desert, as YHWH proclaims them, once again, to be his chosen people. These people – whose description activates again the Song of the Sea: ‫“( עם־זו יצרתי לי‬the people whom I formed for myself”) – will sing praises to God in the joyful future, as they did after the first exodus. In the prophetic-poetic language of Isa 43:16–21, the cultural memory of the exodus is evoked, forgotten and refashioned into an imminent redemption. The “former things” are turned into a perceptible “new thing” and catastrophe recedes. The new exodus is incomparable, a perfect new memory to replace the old one. In this comic theodicy, God’s justice is wholly redemptive, and the catastrophe of destruction of exile wholly cancelled. The dark days are over. Even nature rejoices in the spring of the new exodus. The imminent change will yield a new people, who will sing poems in God’s praise celebrating the new exodus, not unlike this prophetic oracle. This text aims to reshape the exiles’ present in the light of a radically revised exodus, setting a new frame around Israel’s self-consciousness and imagined destiny.

3. Genesis 15: The Exodus as Esoteric Theodicy Genesis 15 refashions the exodus in a different way from Ezekiel or Second Isaiah. It builds a theodicy into the pentateuchal text itself and fills in the outlines of God’s plan that culminates in the exodus and return. This is not a new exodus, but a supplementation of the old one, in which open questions about God’s justice are resolved. In particular, the text addresses the problem of the long duration of Israel’s foreign bondage and exile. The solution involves the calculus of God’s judgment in responding to the “sin of the Amorites”. The text also presents a number of other details that explicate – at times in esoteric fashion – the secrets of God’s long-term plan for Israel. The date of the text is not entirely clear, but the preponderance of evidence indicates an exilic or postexilic setting.16 The text quotes or draws upon Priestly, Elohistic and Deuteronomic language and topoi, and there may be some traces 16 See, recently, SKA, “Groundwork”, 67–81; SCHMID, Genesis, 158–171; RÖMER, “Abraham”, 91–101; LEVIN, “Jahwe”, 80–102.

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of Late Biblical Hebrew.17 The language, however, is mostly classical. If, as it seems, the text is exilic or early postexilic, then the issues of God’s justice in the long-term plan of the exodus and return may respond to anxieties in the era of the writer. The explication of God’s justice in the longue durée of the exodus primarily responds to exegetical questions, but may also reflect or resolve the problem of God’s justice in the wake of catastrophe. The revision of the cultural memory in Gen 15 builds on the concept of Abraham as a prophet, found in Gen 20:7 (E or non-P). But there Abraham’s role as prophet was defined as intercessory: ‫כי־נביא הוא ויתפלל בעדך וחיה‬ (“for he is a prophet: he will pray on your behalf so that you live”). In Gen 15, Abraham’s vocation as a prophet is closer to Ezekiel’s. He performs, at God’s request, symbolic acts that God then interprets. The symbolic acts are fairly opaque or esoteric, hence it takes a divine interpreter to decode them. The elaborate foreshadowing and explication of the exodus occur in the second half of the chapter, Gen 15:7–21. The exodus theme is subtly announced, by intertextual allusion, in God’s self-description: ‫אני יהוה אשר הוצאתיך‬ ‫“( מאור כשדים‬I am YHWH, who brought you out of Ur of the Chaldeans”: Gen 15:7). This self-identification echoes the beginning of the Ten Commandments: ‫“( אנכי יהוה אלהיך אשר הוצאתיך מארץ מצרים‬I am YHWH, your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt”: Exod 20:2 = Deut 5:6). This diction is sufficiently distinctive to activate the intertext. But in Gen 15 the exodus formula is revised, in a sense back-dated, when “the land of Egypt” is replaced by “Ur of the Chaldeans”. In the allusive texture of Gen 15:7, YHWH’s deliverance of Abraham from Mesopotamia is implicitly conflated with his deliverance of Israel from Egypt. By this allusion, YHWH’s plan for the exodus is intimated already in Abraham’s time. The idea of God’s long-term plan is subtly planted here, to be developed more robustly in the performance and interpretation of Abraham’s symbolic prophetic actions. In response to Abraham’s question, ‫“( במה אדע‬how will I know?), YHWH gives instructions for a strange ritual, which he then deciphers with an emphatic injunction, ‫“( ידע תדע‬know certainly”, Gen 15:13). The components of the ritual are a three-year-old calf, a three-year-old goat, a three-year-old ram and two birds (probably two types of pigeon). These are all normal sacrificial animals. Abraham cuts the three land animals in two, sets them opposite each 17 The hints of late or post-classical language are: (1) the absence of ‫ ויהי‬in the opening formula (cf. Gen 20:1, which has ‫ ;ויהי‬and Esth 2:1; 3:1; 7:1, which lacks it); and (2) clauseinitial we-qatal (‫ והאמן‬in v. 6) as a non-converted past tense; see JOOSTEN, “Diachronic Aspects”, 226–227. The Priestly language consists in ‫ רכש‬and ‫אור כשדים‬. The boundary of the Euphrates River is arguably deuteronomistic (cf. Deut 1:7; 11:24; Josh 1:4), as are some other details, perhaps including the divine title ‫ אדני יהוה‬which, in prose, is found elsewhere only in Deuteronomistic texts (but is common in the prophets). The addition of the onomapoetic triad ‫“( את הקיני ואת הקנזי ואת הקדמני‬the Kenites, the Kenizzites, and the Kadmonites”) to the list of seven nations also seems a baroque – and relatively late – touch.

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other, and sets the two birds side by side. Then Abraham drives away birds of prey that are attracted by the carcasses. At the moment of sundown, Abraham falls asleep and ‫“( אימה חשכה גדלה‬great dark dread”) falls upon him. (The verb ‫“[ נפל‬fall”] occurs twice in this double falling.) This is an odd and disturbing scene. It is not a conventional ritual sacrifice, since Abraham does not burn or cook the animals at an altar. This scene is a complicated symbolic performance, followed by a dream theophany in which YHWH explains the oracular meaning of the action. In the theophany, YHWH predicts the Egyptian bondage and the exodus, with particular attention to their duration: ‫ידע תדע כי־גר יהיה זרעך‬ ‫בארץ לא להם‬ ‫ועבדום וענו אתם‬ ‫ארבע מאות שנה‬ ‫ודור רביעי ישובו הנה‬ ‫כי לא־שלם עון האמרי‬ ‫עד־הנה׃‬

Know certainly that your seed will be strangers in a land that is not theirs; and they will enslave them and oppress them for four hundred years …. In the fourth generation they will return here, for the sin of the Amorites is not complete until then.

(Gen 15:13–16)

Although the correspondence between YHWH’s prophecy and the symbolic actions is not explicit, many commentators agree that the four rows of animal parts are a numerical symbol for the four hundred years and the four generations.18 This symbolic script is enacted by cutting the animals, which is a symbolic performance of “cutting a covenant”, as the text intimates in its later statement: ‫“( ביום ההוא כרת יהוה את־אברם ברית‬on that day YHWH cut a covenant with Abraham”, Gen 15:18). The performance of this covenant cryptically represents YHWH’s plan. In his speech, YHWH reveals that the timespan of the Egyptian bondage and exodus is coordinated with ‫“( עון האמרי‬the sin of the Amorites”). We are not told what this sin is, but it seems to accumulate over time and then fall due.19 This obscure detail seems to respond to a question of theodicy – why did YHWH allow the Israelites to be enslaved for so long? Why did he delay the deliverance? The accumulating sin of the Amorites is the answer. Although the content of this sin is not revealed, it seems to suffice that there is an answer. Hence the past – and perhaps by extension the present – of Israel is rendered intelligible. YHWH’s plan is the large-scale frame of Israel’s destiny, even though we are given only glimpses into it. A final symbolic action occurs when YHWH completes his utterance. Two strange objects appear and move: ‫והנה תנור עשן ולפיד אש אשר עבר בין‬ 18 E.g., ZAKOVITCH, “And You Shall Tell”, 59–60. The fullest treatment of symbolism in this scene is JACOB, Genesis, 404–406. 19 The accumulation of sin is here modelled on the accumulation of debt; see ANDERSON, Sin, 85–89.

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‫“( הגזרים האלה‬And behold, a smoking oven and a fiery torch passed between these pieces”, Gen 15:17). This scene is not deciphered and remains enigmatic. Most commentators see here visual symbols of YHWH’s theophanic fire and smoke at Mount Sinai, which includes the metaphor of a smoking oven: ‫והר‬

‫סיני עשן כלו מפני אשר ירד עליו יהוה באש ויעל עשנו כעשן הכבשן‬ (“Now Mount Sinai was all in smoke, for YHWH had descended upon it in fire, and the smoke ascended like the smoke of an oven”, Exod 19:18). This correspondence is attractive in the context of this covenant scene. However, since the smoking oven and fiery torch are two different objects, I am inclined to think that the correspondence is to the pillar of smoke and the pillar of cloud that are YHWH’s vehicles for guiding the Israelites from Egypt and in the wilderness (Exod 13:21–22, etc.). But there is not a great difference here. The smoking oven and fiery torch are “objective correlatives” of YHWH’s presence. Their movement through the parts enacts the covenant between YHWH and Abraham, perhaps obliquely prophesying the movement of Israel out of Egyptian bondage and to the promised land. One detail in the baroque symbolism of this episode remains opaque. What is the significance – if any – of Abraham’s warding off the birds of prey? The threat of this moment seems palpable: ‫וירד העיט על־הפגרים וישב אתם אברם‬ (“the birds of prey descended on the corpses, and Abram drove them away”, Gen 15:7). My guess is that Abraham, who is portrayed as a prophet throughout this chapter, here anticipates the prophet Moses, who is called by YHWH to deliver Israel from Egypt. The birds of prey would correspond to the future enemy, the brutal Egyptians who seek to devour the corpses of Israel. In any case, ‫“( העיט‬the bird[s] of prey”) are unclean animals, in contrast to the sheep, goat, ram and pigeons, which are all clean animals. Some sort of moral opposition seems to be signalled here. But the meaning is obscure. This is an esoteric symbolic performance, whose deeper meanings YHWH only partially reveals. Genesis 15 enacts a prophetic foreshadowing and partial exegesis of the exodus. As a mode of foreshadowing, these events are perhaps necessarily obscure.20 Abraham is a prophet in a complicated mode, similar in some respects to Ezekiel, whose odd symbolic actions and visions are often explicated by YHWH, but details remain unexplained. This is a late or post-classical portrait of a prophet, replete with baroque and esoteric symbolism. The general thrust of this performative prophecy of the exodus is to announce that it is part of YHWH’s long-term plan and covenant, and that anxieties about the justice of this plan can be allayed. The patriarchal covenant now explicitly includes the exodus. Abraham’s prophetic acts obscurely elucidate the future destiny of Israel. Despite catastrophes to come, YHWH’s hand is behind events, even if that hand seems hidden or beyond our understanding. 20 As Jean-Pierre Sonnet observes (private communication), the symbolic acts may be “deliberately veiled in order not to anticipate details still to be narratively revealed in Exodus”.

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4. Conclusions As Heraclitus might say, one can never step into the Re(e)d Sea twice. The water is always changing, and even one’s foot is microscopically altered. Similarly, the cultural memory of the exodus flows and changes in the Hebrew Bible. Each version makes different claims about the details and meanings of the past, and each makes different claims about reality and religion in the present and future. The crisis of the Babylonian conquest and exile was a major caesura in Israelite history, and is likewise a caesura in the life of the exodus in biblical memory. As we have seen, the exodus is reimagined differently in Ezek 20, Isa 43 and Gen 15 in order to promote different types of theodicy, which I have called tragic, comic and esoteric. In Ezekiel, the exodus provides a model of Israel’s perpetual guilt, which is in conflict with YHWH’s maintenance of his divine honour. The new exodus will occur despite Israel’s irreparable guilt, and will entail Israel’s future self-loathing. Here Ezekiel, in effect, invents apocalypticism and a distinctively Jewish (or perhaps Judeo-Christian) sense of guilt. The old exodus entails a future exodus, but Israel does not deserve it. In Ezekiel’s theodicy, God is just, but an ethical divide separates the moral God from his immoral people. This is a tragic theodicy, in that the positive outcome – God’s justice in the world – leaves Israel riven with guilt. The future resolution of catastrophe is still, in some respects, catastrophic. In Second Isaiah, the exodus is reimagined as a comic theodicy, in that the outcome of God’s justice is a purely happy ending: the telos of the new exodus is a return to Zion crowned with eternal joy. This “future memory” of a new exodus, like Ezekiel’s, plants the seeds of apocalypticism, but in a utopian mode. As a vision of a perfect restoration, this model will prove more durable during the postexilic period. In Second Isaiah the new exodus is simultaneously a new Creation, entailing YHWH’s defeat of chaos at the dawn of the new era. The paradise of primeval times will return: in Hermann Gunkel’s formula, Urzeit wird Endzeit.21 Even death will be swallowed up forever. This is a very different vision of the new exodus from Ezekiel’s ambivalent revision. The recursion of a comic theodicy is guilt-free. This is why Second Isaiah’s new exodus becomes more determinative in the rise of apocalypticism during the Second Temple period. Since the actual restoration in Zion was not perfect, the utopian new exodus / new Creation had to be projected into another future. Whereas Ezekiel’s ambivalent new exodus accommodated an imperfect reality, Second Isaiah’s could not. The lack of fit between a comic theodicy and a flawed reality required its projection forward. The imperfection of the postexilic reality necessitated the invention of a more permanent eschaton, deferring the comic model of God’s justice. 21 GUNKEL, Schöpfung, 370: “In der Endzeit wird sich wiederholen, was in der Urzeit gewesen ist”.

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Genesis 15 is a prophecy and theodicy of a different kind, since it reimagines the exodus as part of a more distant past than the exodus itself. This revision reformulates God’s long-term plan, announced in the symbolic drama of Abraham the prophet. Like Ezekiel, Abraham is commanded to perform strange acts, whose esoteric meanings are then explained by God. In this case, Abraham engages in a strange covenant ceremony, whose meanings are partially revealed by YHWH in a dream theophany. But the meanings are not wholly divulged. This baroque prophecy of the exodus clarifies that God’s promises to Abraham will be fulfilled – after a precise time – in the exodus and return. The reason for the long captivity is obscurely detailed as the “sin of the Amorites”, the content of which seems less important than the fact of a rationale. In other words, God’s justice is assured, but contingencies entail a long duration until completion of the divine plan. Although the prophecy of the exodus in Gen 15 provides a framework for Israel’s past destiny, it is possible that this esoteric theodicy has implications for Israel’s future destiny as well. If, as it seems, this chapter is a postexilic supplement to Genesis, the provision of a firm foundation for the past may suggest that God’s plan for the future is also fixed. The details of the ongoing theodicy may be obscure or esoteric, as it was in the time of the ancestors. But the esoteric theodicy in Gen 15 encourages more speculation. In these three exilic / postexilic revisions of the exodus, we see how authoritative interpreters reconstituted Israel’s cultural memory in the wake of catastrophe. In radically changed circumstances, in conditions of collective trauma, a group’s consciousness of the past must change in order for it to adapt and survive. When the causal nexus that explains the past and the present breaks down, it must be repaired. This is what Ezekiel and Second Isaiah achieve through their reconfigurations of the exodus as a tragic and comic theodicy. In a different way, Gen 15 introduces clarity – and a countervailing sense of esoteric obscurity – into the nexus of the past, which may spill over into the present and future. Each of these texts remembers the constitutive past differently in order to provide a cogent model of God’s justice in the world. These counter-memories trace different theodicies – tragic, comic and esoteric – in their prophetic reimaginings of Israel’s past. Each is a distinctive revision of the cultural memory of the exodus, which brings the past into new configurations with the present and future. In key respects, these revisions – particularly Ezekiel’s and Second Isaiah’s – are incommensurate. Yet in the end these different versions yield a complicated dialectic in the intertextual space of the Hebrew Bible, in which comic, tragic and esoteric memories of the exodus mingle, clash and recombine.

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Literature ALTER, R., The Art of Biblical Poetry, 2nd edn, New York 2011. ANDERSON, B. W., “Exodus Typology in Second Isaiah”, in: B. Anderson / W. Harrelson (eds.), Israel’s Prophetic Heritage: Essays in Honor of James Muilenburg, New York 1962, 177–195. ANDERSON, G. A., Sin: A History, New Haven 2009. GREENBERG, M., Ezekiel 1–20 (AncB 22), New York 1983. —, “Notes on the Influence of Tradition on Ezekiel”, JANES 22 (1993) 29–37. GUNKEL, H., Schöpfung und Chaos in Urzeit und Endzeit: Eine religionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung über Gen 1 und Ap Joh 12, Göttingen 1895. HENDEL, R., “Leitwort Style and Literary Structure in the J Primeval Narrative”, in: S. Dolanksy (ed.), Sacred History, Sacred Literature: Essays on Ancient Israel, the Bible, and Religion in Honor of R. E. Friedman, Winona Lake, IN 2008, 93–109. —, “The Exodus and the Poetics of Memory”, in: M. L. Chaney et al. (eds.), Reading a Tendentious Bible: Essays in Honor of Robert B. Coote (HBM 66), Sheffield 2014, 87–97. JACOB, B., Das erste Buch der Tora: Genesis, New York 1975 [1934]. JOOSTEN, J., “Diachronic Aspects of Narrative Wayhi in Biblical Hebrew”, JNSL 35 (2009) 45–64. —, The Verbal System of Biblical Hebrew: A New Synthesis Elaborated on the Basis of Classical Prose, Jerusalem 2012. LEVIN, C., “Days are Coming, When It Shall No Longer Be Said”, in: E. Ben Zvi / C. Levin (eds.), Remembering and Forgetting in Early Second Temple Judah (FAT 85), Tübingen 2012, 105–124. —, “Jahwe und Abraham im Dialog: Genesis 15”, in: idem, Verheißung und Rechtfertigung: Gesammelte Studien zum Alten Testament II (BZAW 431), Berlin 2013, 80–102. LEVITT KOHN, R., “ ‘With a Mighty Hand and an Outstretched Arm’: The Prophet and the Torah in Ezekiel 20”, in: S. L. Cooke / C. L. Patton (eds.), Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World: Wrestling with a Tiered Reality (SBLSymS 31), Atlanta 2004, 159–168. MACCHI, J.-D., “ ‘Ne ressassez plus les choses d’autrefois’: Esaïe 43,16–21, un surprenant regard deutéro-ésaïen sur le passé”, ZAW 121 (2009) 225–241. PAUL, S. M., Isaiah 40–66: Translation and Commentary, Grand Rapids, MI 2015. RICOEUR, P., The Symbolism of Evil, Boston 1967. RÖMER, T., “Abraham and the ‘Law and the Prophets’ ”, in: P. Carstens / N. P. Lemche (eds.), The Reception and Remembrance of Abraham, Piscataway, NJ 2011, 91–101. ROM-SHILONI, D., “ Facing Destruction and Exile: Inner-Biblical Exegesis in Jeremiah and Ezekiel”, ZAW 117 (2005) 194–202. —, Exclusive Inclusivity: Identity Conflicts between the Exiles and the People Who Remained (6th–5th Centuries BCE) (LHB 543), London 2013. SCHMID, K., Genesis and the Moses Story: Israel’s Dual Origins in the Hebrew Bible (Siphrut 3), Winona Lake, IN 2010. SCHWARTZ, B., “Ezekiel’s Dim View of Israel’s Restoration”, in: M. S. Odell / J. T. Strong (eds.), The Book of Ezekiel: Theological and Anthropological Perspectives (SBLSymS 9), Atlanta 2000, 43–67. SKA, J. L., “Some Groundwork on Genesis 15”, in: idem, The Exegesis of the Pentateuch: Exegetical Studies and Basic Questions (FAT 66), Tübingen 2009, 67–81. STAGER, L. E., “Biblical Philistines: A Hellenistic Literary Creation?” in: A. M. Maeir / P. de Miroschedji (eds.), “I Will Speak the Riddles of Ancient Times”: Archaeological and Historical Studies in Honor of Amihai Mazar, Winona Lake, IN 2006, 375–384.

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WERNER, W., Studien zur alttestamentlichen Vorstellung vom Plan Jahwes (BZAW 173), Berlin 1988. ZAKOVITCH, Y., “And You Shall Tell Your Son …”: The Concept of Exodus in the Bible, Jerusalem 1991. ZIMMERLI, W., Ezekiel 1 (Hermeneia), Philadelphia 1979.

Dis-aster: Reflection and Perspective

Writing the Disaster Trauma, Resilience and Fortschreibung Jean-Pierre Sonnet What this book has approached is an unprecedented event of resilience: the resilience of writing that contributed to shape the Torah after the fall of Jerusalem. An alternative title for the present volume could have been Writing the Disaster, to echo Maurice Blanchot’s famous essay L’écriture du désastre (1980). For the people of Israel, the downfall of the holy city and the destruction of its holy place, the temple, have been literally a dis-aster, that is, a calamity of exorbitant character associated with ill-disposed heavenly influence. As such, the disaster is the unspeakable: it wrecks language and entails silence. “What remains to be said”, Blanchot writes, “is the disaster. Ruin of words, demise writing, faintness faintly murmuring: what remains without re-mains”.1 The surprise of the Hebrew Bible is that the disaster gave rise to an exceptional literary elaboration,2 which combined a process of mourning and of literary creativity. The present conclusion will examine this double process through the lens of trauma theory. David M. Carr’s recent book Holy Resilience: The Bible’s Traumatic Origins has demonstrated the relevance of the category of trauma in understanding the genesis of the Hebrew Bible.3 In dialogue with Carr and with Cathy Caruth, author of several essays about trauma in narrative and history, these pages will briefly go back over the literary way in which exilic Israel worked through the traumatic experience of Jerusalem’s fall. The category of trauma, it is hoped, will provide a red thread among the many threads of the historical and literary phenomenon approached in this book. 1

BLANCHOT, Writing, 33. The biblical responses to the events of 597 and 587 BCE have elicited various critical presentations, bringing into play a range of relevant parameters. See, in particular, COHN, “Biblical Responses”, which enhances the way these responses refer to Israel’s past, present and future, and, more recently, RÖMER, “Hebrew Bible”. Inspired by the works of Max Weber and Armin Steil, Thomas Römer discerns three types of attitudes towards the crisis of Jerusalem’s fall and of the exile: the attitude of the priest, of the prophet and of the ‘mandarin’ (in this case, the historiographer). These categorizations complement the present pages that will focus on the psychological and literary trace of Israel’s trauma. 3 CARR, Holy Resilience; see also the papers collected in BECKER et al. (eds.), Trauma. 2

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How? Lamentations as Trauma Poetry “Trauma is the confrontation with an event that, in its unexpectedness or horror, cannot be placed within the schemes of prior knowledge”, Caruth writes.4 The book of Lamentations, which opens with the question ‫איכה‬, “How?” (Lam 1:1; see 2:1; 4:1, 2), and proceeds in the limping rhythm of the ‫קינה‬, is the biblical token of the exorbitant character of the events that culminated in the fall of Jerusalem and in the deportation to Babylon. The alphabetic form that undergirds the poem expresses the thoroughness of the people’s despondency, facing what is paradoxically beyond any articulated language. The situation of Jerusalem is beyond comparison and beyond reason: “What can I say for you, to what compare you, O daughter Jerusalem? To what can I liken you, that I may comfort you, O virgin daughter Zion? For vast as the sea is your ruin; who can heal you?” (Lam 2:13). Although chapter 3 raises the hope that God could vindicate his people in his mercy (3:21–66), dismay pervades most of chapters 4 and 5, and the book ends on a distressed point d’orgue: “Unless you have totally rejected us and are angry beyond limit?” (Lam 5:20–22). Particularly striking is the way Lamentations rehearses the traumatic experience—as if the last days of Jerusalem were haunting the book’s successive speakers. “To be traumatized”, Caruth writes, “is precisely to be possessed by an image or event”.5 The tragedy is poetically re-enacted, and turns more vivid in Lamentations than in its narrative version in the Bible (in 2 Kgs 25 and Jer 52). The shout of the aggressor resounds as on the day of the attack: “Ah, this is the day we longed for; now we have it; we see it!” (Lam 2:16). Glimpses of the fateful day punctuate the lament: “Outside the sword bereaves, at home it is like death” (Lam 1:20); “the tongue of the infant sticks to the roof of its mouth for thirst; the children beg for food, but no one gives them anything” (Lam 4:4; see also 2:12, 20–21;4:7–10, 17–18). The metaphor of immurement is particularly graphic, all the more since it is God who imprisons, acting as Jerusalem’s enemy (see 2:6): YHWH “has walled me about so that I cannot escape; he has made my chains heavy; though I call and cry for help, he shuts out my prayer; he has blocked my ways with blocks of stones” (Lam 3,7–9). The very syntax of the verse mimics the ineluctability of the end: “Our end [‫ ]קצינו‬was near; our days were over, for our end [‫ ]קצינו‬has come” (Lam 4:18). “Once faced with the possibility of its death”, Caruth writes, “[consciousness] can do nothing but repeat the destructive event over and over again”,6 for the traumatic events “take up residence in recurring memories as if they were still happening in mental space”.7 4

CARUTH, “Introduction”, 153. CARUTH, “Introduction”, 5. 6 CARUTH, Unclaimed Experience, 63. 7 O’CONNOR, “Trauma Studies”, 212, referring to CARUTH, Unclaimed Experience. 5

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The book of Lamentations is somehow the final point – the point of rupture – of a compounded and protracted historical tension. In the way that it echoes prophetic voices from Israel and from Judah, and recalls the curses of Deut 28,8 it sounds like the fateful climax of a history of warnings and unlearned lessons. In the statement of Lam 1:21, “You have brought the day you announced”, one hears God’s first announcement, in Amos 5:18–20, of a day that is “darkness, and not light, and gloom with no brightness in it” (v. 20). The trauma embodied in Lamentations is thus of “biblical proportions”, and it would be wrong to consider it a minor book, relegated to a section of the canon bringing together such books. In the Greek sequence, Lamentations follows the report of the fall of Jerusalem in Jer 52, and one can also analogically hear it after the nearly identical report made in 2 Kgs 25. The fivefold lament of ‫ איכה‬somehow haunts the Hebrew Bible; it is at the horizon of the announcement of exile by Moses (Deut 4:25–31) and of the curses he formulates in Deut 28:47–67. It is the token of the main trauma in the history of Israel, which reverberates throughout the Hebrew Bible.

Belatedness In different ways, trauma theory has cast a new light on the Bible, allowing researchers to track more effectively the propagation of the trauma of Jerusalem’s fall through the biblical corpus. It has helped identify the stages of the confrontation with the catastrophe – the challenge to speak the unspeakable, the need to formulate explanations, the call to point to life beyond the disaster. Kathleen M. O’Connor’s recent essay on the book of Jeremiah is a fine instance of such a hermeneutical venture.9 As she explains, Jeremiah is a famously vexing text due to its literary confusions, mixes of genre, voices, and viewpoints, lack of chronology, deep misogyny, and violent portraits of a punishing God. Yet trauma and disaster theories show these troublesome features of the book to be literary survival strategies for a destroyed society. The book aids survival by generating potent symbolic speech in response to catastrophe.10

Time is decisive factor in the elaboration of the trauma since, as Caruth writes, “the impact of the traumatic event lies precisely in its belatedness”,11 in its “afterwardsness” (Freud’s Nachträglichkeit) across personal, generational and transgenerational history. As a diachronic inquiry, redaction criticism probably has much to learn from the cognitive, affective and hermeneutical issues singled out 8

See Lam 1:14 / Deut 28:48; Lam 2:2 / Deut 28:52; Lam 2:17 / Deut 28:15; Lam 3:45 / Deut 28:37; Lam 4:10 / Deut 28:56f. 9 O’CONNOR, Jeremiah. 10 O’CONNOR, “Trauma Studies”, 212. 11 CARUTH, “Introduction”, 9.

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by the study of trauma: the issues in question can put the traditional inquiry in new and significant perspectives.12 The following paragraphs will address some core issues related to the trauma of the loss of Jerusalem, and explore their possible connection with the constitution of the Pentateuch.

Trauma, Survival and Chosenness “Our end has come”, says the speaker of Lam 4 in his evocation of the fateful day. The paradox of the statement is that it requires someone alive to tell it, who has survived “our end”. “Trauma”, Caruth argues with perspicacity, “is not simply an effect of destruction but also, fundamentally, an enigma of survival. It is only by recognizing traumatic experience as a paradoxical relation between destructiveness and survival that we can also recognize the legacy of incomprehensibility at the heart of catastrophic experience.”13 The surprise of the survivor actually belongs to the Bible’s founding experiences. It represents one of its tropes, encapsulated in some eloquent verses: “We have escaped [‫ ]נמלטה‬like a bird from the snare of the fowlers; the snare is broken, and we have escaped [‫( ”]נמלטנו‬Ps 124:7); “YHWH punished me severely, but did not hand me over to death” (Ps 118:18); “If YHWH of hosts had not left us a few survivors [‫]שריד‬, we would have been like Sodom, and become like Gomorrah” (Isa 1:9). As is well known, a theology of the “remnant” has been elaborated in the prophetic corpus, starting with the book of Isaiah, and has received a particular (and highly contrasted) configuration during the exilic period.14 This elaboration echoes in various ways the paradoxical experience of survival that accompanies a trauma of destruction. Whereas Lamentations expresses the syndrome of total extinction (“on the day of the anger of YHWH no one escaped or survived [‫;”]ולא היה … פליט ושריד‬ Lam 2:22), the contemporary book of Ezekiel verbalizes the contradictory fact: “yet they are survivors [‫ ]פלטה‬left of it [‫]נותרה‬, sons and daughters who are being brought out” (Ezek 14:22).15 The theological claim, which attributes survival to God’s agency (“If YHWH had not left us a few survivors”), is grafted on the existential confrontation that accompanies trauma, the attempt, as Caruth puts it, “to claim one’s own survival”: Trauma consists not only in having confronted death but in having survived, precisely, without knowing it. What one returns to in the flashback is not the 12

The issue of transgenerational trauma and redaction criticism is addressed by SMITHCHRISTOPHER, “Trauma”, 234–238. 13 CARUTH, Unclaimed Experience, 58: “Trauma theory often divides itself into two basic trends: the focus on trauma as the ‘shattering’ of a previous whole self and the focus on the survival function of trauma as allowing one to get through an overwhelming experience by numbing oneself to it” (p. 131). About the latter trend, see in particular LIFTON, “Survivor”. 14 See CLEMENTS, “‫” ָשׁ ַאר‬, 277–285. HASEL, Remnant. 15 See also Ezek 6:8–10; 12:16.

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353

incomprehensibility of one’s near death, but that of one’s own survival. Repetition, in other words, is not simply the attempt to grasp that one almost died but, more fundamentally and enigmatically, the very attempt to claim one’s own survival. If history is to be understood as the history of a trauma, it is a history that is experienced as the endless attempt to assume one’s survival as one’s own.16 The Jewish experience, Caruth goes on, sheds a particular light on the survivor’s existential challenge. In a dialogue with two works by Sigmund Freud, Beyond the Pleasure Principle and Moses and Monotheism, she meditates on the intimate connection tying survival and chosenness. What the Jewish experience typically indicates is that “the historical experience of a survival exceeding the grasp of the one who survives engages a notion of history exceeding individual bonds”.17 More precisely, it is “collective, transgenerational, and religious history”.18 In this perspective, the nagging interrogation about the mysterious reason for one’s survival – “why am I the one who survived?” – has taken, in the Jewish experience, the form of an interrogation about election: The question that governs the story of the individual in Beyond the Pleasure Principle – What does it mean to survive? – thus becomes, in the history of the Jews, the crucial and enigmatic query, What does it mean to be chosen?19

It is a fact that the concept of election pervades the biblical corpus and it is indeed tempting to correlate it with Israel’s traumatic experience of destructionand-survival at the time of the exile. The Pentateuch, in particular, calls for such a reading. In its way of narrating the election of the patriarchs and of Israel, the Pentateuch looks like an elaborate dramatization of Israel’s experience of chosenness amidst the crisis of the exile.

The Pentateuch as Screen Memory “Once one works with trauma and disaster theories, one begins to see evidence of traumatic violence and its effects everywhere”, O’Connor observes.20 Moving away from the book of Jeremiah, which she describes as a “survival manual”,21 and commentating on the book of Genesis, she cannot refrain from drawing analogies: 16

CARUTH, Unclaimed Experience, 64; author’s italics. CARUTH, Unclaimed Experience, 66. Cf. the motif in the Psalms, “I shall not die but live to declare the works of YHWH” (Ps 118:17). On telling the next generation, beyond the catastrophe and its reversal, see Ps 22:31–32; 48:14; 71:18; 78;6; 102:19. 18 CARUTH, Unclaimed Experience, 67. 19 CARUTH, Unclaimed Experience, 68. See the insightful comments in CARR, Holy Resilience, 121–127. 20 O’CONNOR, “Trauma Studies”, 221. 21 O’CONNOR, “Trauma Studies”, 218. 17

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Genesis tells of creation for the sake of recreation; it contains story upon story of mythic and human catastrophes from which only a few, but always a few, escape; it presents future promises for Abraham’s family that are utterly impossible of realization from a human viewpoint, as Judah’s own survival and revival may have seemed in the post-exilic period. Survival is Genesis’ overarching concern in the face of external and internal calamities. The Akedah itself (Gen 22), wherein the future of the family is at stake in the life of one child who sits on the brink of extermination at divine command and who survives when God rescinds his sacrifice, encapsulates in structure, if not in content, the challenge facing the people of Judah in post Babylonian period.22

No less than the book of Jeremiah, Genesis is thus coping with the issue of survival. A central motif in the book of Genesis encapsulates the issue in question: the callings and journeys of the patriarchal figures. As critical exegesis has indicated, the figures and plots of patriarchal election can be ascribed to the literary creativity of the exilic period. Whereas the speaker of Lamentations complained, “We have become orphans, fatherless [‫יתומים‬ ‫( ”]היינו אין אב‬Lam 5:3), exilic Israel has been provided with a genealogy of fathers, subjects of election and beneficiaries of promises. To this end, figures and traditions of the past have been revisited, astutely “worked through”.23 So it is, particularly, in the case of Abraham, whom God brought “from Ur of the Chaldeans” (Gen 15:7).24 The portrait of Abraham in Gen 11:29–25:11, Jean Louis Ska writes, “takes on more than one trait of the gôlâ”.25 Abraham has been reinterpreted “to make him the first ‘pilgrim’ coming from Mesopotamia, a journey that prefigured the return of the exiles”.26 The same can be said of for Jacob, transformed “into a model for the exiles returning to their homeland in obedience to the word of YHWH”.27 Exilic resilience has thus taken the form of scribal rewriting, and notably of “aggadic exegesis”.28 The figures projected in the past served as Israel’s “screen memory”, as Carr writes: More than earlier generations, the Judeans in exile saw themselves in Abraham, Jacob, Moses, and other figures who lived in foreign lands and were subject to foreign rule. On the other hand, these stories about Abraham and other figures were distinct enough from exilic experience to be safe. They thus served as a form of “screen memory” for Judean exiles disinclined to speak directly about their present condition. Caught in collective amnesia about their exilic present and past, these Judeans in Babylon focuses instead on stories of ancient ancestors. 22

O’CONNOR, “Trauma Studies”, 221. The past has to be faced and processed, “worked through”, as Freud explains in his essay Erinnern, Wiederholen und Durcharbeiten (1914); see FREUD, “Remembering”. 24 On this issue, see CARR, Holy Resilience, 91–109. 25 SKA, “Essay”, 43. 26 SKA, “Essay”, 43; see also FISHBANE, Biblical Interpretation, 375–376. 27 SKA, “Call”, 66. The divine oracles in Gen 28:15 and 31:3 “become reader’s guides so that the post-exilic community can recognize itself in its ancestors” (p. 66). 28 See FISHBANE, Biblical Interpretation, 435. Ancient texts or traditions have provided “the imaginative matrix for evaluating the present, for conceiving the future, for organizing reality (the inchoate, the negative, the possible), and even for providing the shared symbols and language of communication”. 23

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355

They “looked to” landless ancestors like Abraham and Sarah, related to their struggles, and found hope in their promise.29

The Pentateuch thus opens in Genesis with a story of election, telling of ancestral figures called to enter (Abraham) or re-enter (Jacob) the land. In Genesis and Deuteronomy, the Pentateuch, moreover, announces returns by the people of Israel, subsequent to previous departures from the land. In Gen 15, it is the exodus that is cast as a return in God’s disclosure to Abraham: “And they shall return [‫ ]ישובו‬here in the fourth generation” (v. 15).30 In Deut 4 and 30, it is the exile itself that looms on the horizon of Moses’ speeches: “YHWH will scatter you among the peoples; only a few of you will be left among the nations where YHWH will lead you” (Deut 4:27); “then YHWH your God will restore your fortunes and have compassion on you, gathering you again from all the peoples among whom YHWH your God has scattered you” (Deut 30:3). Far from being repressed, the experience of the exile has thus been internalized in the Pentateuch, and this points to the depth of Israel’s answer to its most dramatic trauma.

“I Am the One Who Puts to Death and Brings to Life” The references to the exile in the Pentateuch just surveyed point to what could represent Israel’s prime achievement in the elaboration of its major trauma: the construction of a divine character who can assert: “I kill and make alive, I wound and I heal” (Deut 32:39). The prophets have played a major role in this literary and theological creation, building a dramatic theodicy in which “God has not lost the war to Babylonian deities but, instead, commanded it; God has more power than Bel and Marduk and is fully in charge”.31 The endeavour of the Pentateuch is no less decisive since it had to provide the founding characterization of the God in question, who assumes the contrasting rules of punisher and healer. The punishment, as Lev 26 reminds, climaxes in the destruction of city and sanctuary and in the scattering of the people among the nations (vv. 27–39); the healing climaxes in a return rehearsing the exodus from Egypt, out of fidelity to the promise to the patriarchs (vv. 40–46). Throughout the story told in the Torah, the pentateuchal God gives proof of these contrasted roles, epitomized in the flood narrative. The tensions in question bring God’s persona to a point of rupture that, actually, never happens. The unity of the character is astonishingly maintained, thanks to narrative, rhetorical and poetic expedients coalescing in the 29

CARR, Holy Resilience, 96. See SKA, “Groundwork”, 80, who sees in Gen 15:13–16 “a ‘theological’ correction” to the basic text of Gen 15, originating in his view from “the population that remained in Juda”, a correction added by “the representatives of the golah”. 31 O’CONNOR, “Trauma Studies”, 15, a propos the book of Jeremiah. 30

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claim of God’s unity and unicity. No greater contrast could be created in Israel’s religious vis-à-vis the Mesopotamian pantheons, where gods had respective domains and specialized functions. It is worth observing that the Pentateuch is framed by two narrative poems that play a discriminating role in respect to the pantheons in question. Genesis 1 is a monotheistic manifesto that undermines the theomachy of Enuma Elish; Deut 32 is adamant in its claim of YHWH’s exclusive leadership throughout history: “YHWH alone guided [Israel]; no foreign god was with him” (v. 12); “See now that I, even I, am he; there is no god besides me. I kill and I make alive; I wound and I heal; and no one can deliver from my hand.” (v. 39) 32 The origin of Moses’ song in Deut 32 is a moot question, aptly summarized by Richard D. Nelson: “Attempts to date the song on the basis of the identity of the enemy or linguistic evidence has been inconclusive. Its archaic or archaizing language is at variance with a post-disaster situation that would appear to be at least exilic”.33 In our view, the context just mentioned deserves consideration. The God of the Pentateuch is, so to say, a “post-disaster” God, who combines in his inner self the most opposing attributes – “I kill and I make alive; I wound and I heal”. The God of the Pentateuch has acquired his contrasted identity from the traumas that marked out Israel’s history, climaxing in the trauma of Jerusalem’s fall and of the exile. Yet only such a post-traumatic God can actually be sovereign on history, measuring, and not be measured by, the contingent violence of history – in his divine self-reassertion “I wound and I heal”.

32

On the contrasting metaphors and statements about God in Deut 32, see CLAASSENS, “‘I Kill and I Give Life’”, 35–46. 33 NELSON, Deuteronomy, 369. In a recent essay, Eckart Otto has recognized in the poem of Deut 32:1–43 “not only the aiming point of the book of Deuteronomy but of all the Pentateuch” (OTTO, “Singing Moses”, 177). The role of the poem extends actually beyond the Pentateuch since the song is, in Otto’s analysis, “a sophisticated patchwork of quotations and allusions to the psalms, the prophetic and sapiential literature” (177; see the survey 174–177).

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Literature BECKER, E.-M. et al. (eds.), Trauma and Traumatization in Individual and Collective Dimensions: Insights from Biblical Studies and Beyond (SANt2), Göttingen 2014. BLANCHOT, M., The Writing of the Disaster, Lincoln, NE 1995. CARR, D. M., Holy Resilience: The Bible’s Traumatic Origins, New Haven 2014. CARUTH, C., “Introduction”, in: eadem (ed.), Trauma: Explorations in Memory, Baltimore 1995, 151–157. —, Unclaimed Experience: Trauma, Narrative, and History, Baltimore 1996. CLAASSENS, L. J. M., “‘I Kill and I Give Life’: Contrasting Depictions for God in Deuteronomy 32”, OTE 18 (2005) 35–46. CLEMENTS, R. E., “‫ ָשׁ ַאר‬šā’ar”, TDOT 14 (2004) 272–286. COHN, R. L., “Biblical Responses to Catastrophe”, Judaism 35 (1986) 263–276. FISHBANE, M., Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel, Oxford 1985. FREUD, S., “Remembering, Repeating and Working Through”, in: The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, vol. 12 (ed. J. Strachey), London 1958, 145–156. HASEL, G. F., The Remnant: The History and Theology of the Remnant Idea from Genesis to Isaiah (Andrews University Monographs 5), Berrien Springs, MI 1972. LIFTON, R. J., “Survivor Experience and Traumatic Syndrome”, in: idem, The Broken Connection: On Death and the Continuity of Life, New York 1979, 163–178. NELSON, R. D., Deuteronomy (OTL), Louisville 2002. O’CONNOR, K. M., Jeremiah: Pain and Promise, Minneapolis 2011. —, “How Trauma Studies Can Contribute to Old Testament Studies”, in: E.-M. Becker et al. (eds.), Trauma and Traumatization (SANt 2), Göttingen 2014, 210–222. OTTO, E., “Singing Moses: His Farewell Song in Deuteronomy 32”, in: D. Human (ed.), Psalmody and Poetry in Old Testament Ethics (LHB 572), New York 2012, 169–180. RÖMER, T., “The Hebrew Bible as Crisis Literature”, in: A. Berlejung (ed.), Disaster and Relief Management / Katastrophen und ihre Bewältigung (FAT 81), Tübingen 2012, 159–177. SKA, J. L., “Essay on the Nature and Meaning of the Abraham Cycle (Gen 11:29–25:11)”, in: idem, The Exegesis of the Pentateuch: Exegetical Studies and Basic Questions (FAT 66), Tübingen 2009, 23–45. —, “The Call of Abraham and Israel’s Birth-Certificate (Gen 12:1–4a)”, in: idem, The Exegesis of the Pentateuch, 46–66. —, “Some Groundwork on Genesis 15”, in: idem, The Exegesis of the Pentateuch, 67–81. SMITH-CHRISTOPHER, D. L., “Trauma and the Old Testament: Some Problems and Prospects”, in: E.-M. Becker et al. (eds.), Trauma and Traumatization, 223–243.

List of Contributors Angelika Berlejung Professor of Old Testament Studies at the University of Leipzig, Germany, and Professor of Ancient Near Eastern Studies at the University of Stellenbosch, South Africa. Peter Dubovský Professor of Hebrew Bible and Dean of the Biblical Faculty at the Pontifical Biblical Institute in Rome. Israel Finkelstein Jacob Alkow Professor of the Archaeology of Israel in the Bronze and Iron Ages at Tel Aviv University. Georg Fischer Professor of Old Testament Studies at the University of Innsbruck, Austria. Lester L. Grabbe Emeritus Professor of Hebrew Bible and Early Judaism at the University of Hull, England. Ronald Hendel Norma and Sam Dabby Professor of Hebrew Bible and Jewish Studies at the University of California, Berkeley. Bernard M. Levinson Professor of Classical and Near Eastern Studies and of Law, serves as the Berman Family Chair in Jewish Studies and Hebrew Bible at the University of Minnesota. Nathan MacDonald Reader in the Interpretation of the Old Testament at the University of Cambridge and Fellow of St John’s College. Dominik Markl Associate Professor of Hebrew Bible at the Pontifical Biblical Institute in Rome and Research Associate at the University of Pretoria, South Africa. Christophe Nihan Associate Professor of Hebrew Bible and History of Ancient Israel at the University of Lausanne, Switzerland. Eckart Otto Emeritus Professor of Old Testament at the Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität Munich, Germany, and Honorary Professor at the University of Pretoria, South Africa. He teaches at the Jesuit Hochschule für Philosophie in Munich.

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Konrad Schmid Professor of Hebrew Bible and Ancient Judaism at the University of Zurich, Switzerland. Jean Louis Ska Professor of Hebrew Bible at the Pontifical Biblical Institute in Rome. Jean-Pierre Sonnet Professor of Hebrew Bible at the Pontifical Gregorian University in Rome. Jeffrey Stackert Associate Professor of Hebrew Bible at the University of Chicago. Nili Wazana Senior Lecturer in the Department of Bible and the Department of the History of the Jewish People and Contemporary Judaism at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem.

Index of Ancient Texts 1. Hebrew Bible Genesis 1–11 1 1:18 1:26 1:27 1:28 1:29–30 2–9 2–3 2:8 2:10–14 2:16–17 2:23 3:8 3:16–17 3:16 3:22 3:24 4:10 4:16 5:22 5:24 6 6:1–4 6:1, 2 6:5–7 6:9 6:11 8:22 9 9:1 9:6 9:8 9:19 9:26–27 10 10:5 10:8 10:10

155 30, 39, 104, 213, 356 175 173 173 106, 129 213 95 92, 106f., 129 92, 94 94 129 178 213 108 175 94, 98, 106 92 213 92 213 213 107 94, 98, 106 90 92, 94 213 213 95 94f., 107 106 173 108 94 53 89f., 94f., 108 103, 106 90 89

10:32 11 11:1–9 11:2, 3 11:4 11:6 11:7, 8–9 11:10–32 11:29–25:11 11:31 12–50 12:2 12:6–7 12:8 13:3 14:1, 9 15 15:5 15:6, 7–21 15:7 15:13–16 15:13 15:15 15:17 15:18 17:4–6 17:7 17:8 18:20–21 18:21 20:1, 7 20:9 22 22:17 26:4 26:5, 10, 11 28:10–19 28:15 28:19 29:14

106 94f., 97, 99, 106f. 89–109 96 97, 99, 105 104, 108 105 90 354 108 131 99 255 114 114 89 331, 338–341, 342f., 355 82 339 339, 341, 354 340, 355 339 355 341 340 214 217 214 92 94, 108 339 203 134, 354 82 82 282 114 354 114 178

362

Index of Ancient Texts

31:3 31:13 35:1, 3, 6, 7, 15 37:34 44:13

354 114 114 76 76

Exodus 1:7 1:14 3:7–8 6 12:37–38, 40–41 13:17 13:21–22 14:13 15 15:1, 16 15:18 17 17:14 19 19:11, 18, 20 19:18 20 20:2 20:18–21 20:24–26 21:2 21:3–4 21:7–11 21:12–17, 18–32 21:33–22:14 22:17–26 22:17–18 22:19, 21f., 24–26 24:13–14 25–40 25–31 25 25:9 25:10–22 25:14–15 25:14 25:15 25:22 25:23 25:30, 31–40 25:31–39 25:40

214 321 92 333 214 177 341 177 21, 336 336 172 139 337 139 92 341 132 205, 339 308 141 323 316 321 141 141 141–143 142 143 202 100f. 100f., 267–269 227, 231, 233, 240f., 243f. 244, 267 236–238 232f. 231 232 244 230 279 238–240 267

26:33–34 27:8 27:20–21 27:20 28–29 28 28:38, 43 28:41 29 29:9, 29, 33, 35 29:38–42 30:7 31 32–34 32 32:1–6 32:1, 4, 5 32:4 32:7–14 32:7–10 32:11–14 32:13 32:14 32:20 32:21–25 32:21–24 32:21 32:22 32:23 32:25 32:26–29 32:30–34 32:30–31 32:32, 33–34 32:35 33–34 33:4–6 33:9 34:1, 4 34:5 35–40 35 35:12 35:14 35:32–35 36–38 36:4, 31, 35 37:5 38:1–8

232 267 279 239 208 280 221 280 131, 280 280 271, 279 279 267 200, 206f. 161, 164f., 199–208 201–203 202 205 161 204 160f., 204 82 205 164 202 204f. 201, 203 201 202 205 199, 201 201 203 204 202, 204 205 204 92 233 92 100, 228, 267f. 227, 267 232 239 267 267 268 231f. 271

363

Index of Ancient Texts 39:1–32 MT 39:35 40 40:20 40:22–29 MT 40:24–25 40:27 40:34–35 40:35

280 232 131, 268f. 232f. 279 279 279 234, 269 233

Leviticus 1–16 1:5, 8, 11 5:1, 17 7:18 8 8:33 8:35 9 9:23–24 10 10:6 10:17 11 16 16:12 16:22 16:32 17 17:3–7 17:4 17:16 19:8, 17 20:19–20 21–22 21:10 21:16–24 22:9, 16 23:26–32 24:1–9 24:6 24:15 25 25:1–7, 8–17 25:8–55 25:18–22, 23–55 25:39–46 25:39 25:42 25:46

32 280 221 221 280 280 279 131, 268f. 269 199 76 221 36 131 279 221 280 36, 158 36 270 221 221 221 280 76, 280 198 221 37 279 279 221 37, 321, 323 38 316 38 321–323 321–323 323 321–323

26 26:3–13 26:14–15 26:30–33 26:27–39, 40–46 26:44–45 27:32–33

82, 131, 218, 220, 315, 355 218 324 218 355 218f. 38

Numbers 1–4 3:3 4:4, 19 8:1–4 9:13 10:9 10:33 10:35 11 11:17, 25 12:5 14:3–4 14:34 16–18 16–17 16:3 16:9 17:7 17:28 18:1 18:3 18:4, 5 18:21–32 18:22–23 19:13 20:2 23:21 25 26:58 27 28:3–8 30:16 31:6 31:30, 47 32:34–38

201 280 232 279 221 280 159, 231 231 174 92 92 177 221 201 198 202 270 202 270 221 232, 279 279 38 221 270 202 175 198 199 131 271, 279 221 232, 280 270 13

Deuteronomy 1:1, 3 1:7 1:10

307 339 82

364 1:21 1:31 2:1 4 4:2 4:13 4:19 4:25–31 4:25–28 4:25 4:26 4:27 4:30–31 4:30 4:44–26:68 5 5:6 5:8 5:22 5:23–33 5:32 6:3, 19 6:15 6:17 7:4 7:12 8:12–14 9:1–10:11 9:3 9:8, 10–11 9:16 9:19 9:21 9:25–29 10:1–3 10:5 10:8 10:9 10:12 10:22 11:16 11:24 11:29 12–26 12–25 12

12:1–7

Index of Ancient Texts 64 180 64 163 230 233 66 308, 351 309 66 64 355 160f. 162 23 132, 143, 163 339 157 233 308 181 64 65 143f. 65 324 177 155, 163–166, 203 64 233 66 165 164 204 233 166, 233 231 64 159 82 181 339 255 156, 159, 163, 176–178 158 141, 155–159, 253, 255– 257, 260–262, 264–267, 273, 283f. 156f., 158

12:2–3 12:5–6 12:5 12:7–12 12:8–12 12:8–9 12:9–10 12:11–12 12:13–19 12:13–17 12:20–28 12:20 12:29–31 12:31 12:33 13 13:1 13:1, 2–12 13:2 13:3 13:6 13:7–12 13:7 13:8 13:9 13:13–19 13:13–17 13:14 13:16 13:17 13:18–19 13:18 14:22–26 15 15:1 15:9 15:12–18 15:12 15:16–17 15:19 16:1–8 16:18 16:19–20 17:2 17:3 17:7 17:10 17:11

157 262, 273 159 157 158f, 263 158f. 158 262 155–158 161 158, 174 174 156–158 66, 82 159 155, 159–161, 170, 304– 308 24 159 180 64 306 161 82, 161, 180 159, 161 161, 306 305f. 159–161 180, 305 305 159f., 166, 305 159f., 165 166 38 314, 320f., 322 320f. 82 316 320f. 323 321 266 174 187 180 66 180 75 178, 181

365

Index of Ancient Texts 17:14–20 17:14–15 17:14 17:15–17 17:15 17:16–17 17:16 17:17 17:18–19 17:20 18:6–8 18:10, 12 18:15, 16 18:18 19:10–13 19:19 20:1 21:3 21:8–9 24:1–4 25 25:19 26:5–9 26:5 27 27:3 27:4 27:15, 24 27:25 28

28:1–14 28:4 28:7 28:9–10 28:10 28:11 28:13 28:14 28:15 28:18 28:20 28:25 28:26 28:27, 28 28:36 28:37 28:41 28:45

169–190, 265 132 176 178 178, 186 177, 265 177, 182 177f. 177f., 182, 189f. 177f., 181 198 66 174 306 65 104 183 321 65 306 158 158 140 82 156 64 255, 266 82 65 23f., 47, 63, 75–85, 155, 161–163, 166, 170, 177, 183, 304–307, 351 305 81 305 83 305 81 305 181 66, 78, 77f., 351 81 64, 79 305 304 83 84, 161 78, 83, 351 63 66, 77f., 143f.

28:46 28:47–68 28:47–57 28:48–49 28:48 28:49–52 28:49 28:50 28:51 28:52 28:53–57 28:53–55 28:53 28:56–57 28:58 28:60 28:61 28:62 28:63 28:64 28:68 29–30 29 29:17–30:5 29:18–27 29:18–19 29:19 29:24 29:27 30 30:1–10 30:3 30:6 30:9 30:16 31 31:3 31:9 31:16 31:25 32 32:39 33 33:5 34:9 34:10

83 161f., 166, 351 79, 81 305 64, 304, 351 162 304 79 81 79, 351 63, 80, 162 82 81, 162 82, 351 79, 304 83 79 82 162, 305f., 308 63, 161 83, 177, 182f. 75, 84 163, 166 308 309 82 65 233 65 85, 166 75, 84, 162, 207 355 162 305 159 166 64 231 66 231 166, 356 355–356 139, 146 175 308 307

Joshua 1–12 1:1–6

122 122

366

Index of Ancient Texts

1:4 1:5 1:6 1:7–9 1:7–8 1:7 1:8 1:9 3–4 4:9 6 7:21 8:34 13–22 18:1 19:51 21:1–3 21:43–45 22:9–12 22:19 23 23:6

339 122 122, 190 121–123, 125 178, 190 122, 190 84, 123, 190 122, 190 231 233 231 89 190 270 114, 270 114 114 158 114 270 125 190

Judges 1:8 2:1–5 4–5 5 5:4–5 5:13 6:7–10 8:22–23 8:33–35 9 9:2, 3 9:4 9:5, 18, 24 9:27 9:55, 56, 57 19–21 20:28 21:12

114 125 179 21, 137, 139, 146 137 92 125 174f. 179 174, 178f. 178 179 178 179 179 114 270 114

1 Samuel 1–4 1:3 2:22 3:3 4–6

114 114 232, 270 239 231

4 4:3–4 4:12 8 8:4 8:7, 8 8:9 8:10–18 8:11–18 8:11–17 8:22 10:17–19 10:18–19 10:19 11 12 12:1–25 12:6–15 15:22–23

114 114 76 174, 188 176 175 174 184 180 177, 184 175 184 174 175 175 174 125, 184 175 125

2 Samuel 5:1, 2 5:6–10 6:3 6:15 6:17–18 7 7:1–3 7:1 7:6–7 7:9 7:11–16 7:14 7:23 8:6 8:13–14 11:21 13:31 15:32 19:10, 13, 14 22:10

178 114 232 231 272 298 263 264 270 99 172 172 99 53 99 179 76 76 178 92

1 Kings 1–2 2:2–4 2:3 3 3:2 3:4–15

291 125 178 271 271 124

367

Index of Ancient Texts 3:4 3:13 5:6 5:9 5:17–18 5:19 6–8 6–7 6:1–10 6:11–14 6:12 6:15–36 6:16 6:19 6:31–32 7 7:13–14 7:40, 45, 48, 50 7:48 7:49 8 8:1–11 8:1–9, 21 8:7–8 8:9 8:10–11 8:11 8:12 8:16 8:20 8:29 8:30 8:33 8:35 8:42 8:44 8:46–52 8:48 8:53–61 8:56, 58 9 9:1–9 9:1 9:3 9:8 9:9, 10, 14 9:15 9:16

270f., 274 181 180 292 264 64 232, 239 231, 242, 268 124 124f. 125 124 232 231 268 293 267 232 244 239 76, 158, 232, 243, 257, 262f. 231–234, 268–270 236 231–233 231, 233 234 268 144, 233 256, 260 64 75, 257, 261 75, 257, 262 257, 262 75, 257, 261f. 257, 262 256f., 260, 262 207 256f., 260, 262 158f. 159 261f. 124f. 124 261 242 125 262 52

10:23 10:26–11:6 10:26–29 11 11:1–10 11:1–3, 4, 6 11:9 11:13, 32, 36 11:41 12 12:21–24 12:25–33 12:26–32 12:26–27 12:28 12:31, 32 12:33 13 13:1–10 13:1–3, 31–34 13:33 14:2, 4 14:7–16 14:10–16 14:21 14:25–28 15:1–8 15:7 15:11 15:16–22 15:18–20 16:24 20 22

181 180 180 261 180 181 292 256, 261 85 200f., 203–207, 292 52 278 203 204f. 202, 204f. 204 202, 204 204 204 278 204 114 278 65 256, 260 52 275 275 292 52f. 52 114 52f. 52

2 Kings 5:2 6:23 6:24–33 8:20–22, 28–29 10:5 10:32–33 11:18 12:15 12:17–19 13:20–21 13:25 14:8–14 14:28

55 55 73, 81 52 53 52 164 114 52 55 52 52 52

368 15 15:8–31 15:16 15:19–20 15:29 15:31 16:1–19 16:7–9 16:7 17 17:1–7 17:1–6 17:1–2 17:3–6 17:3–4 17:3 17:4 17:5–7 17:6 17:7–23 17:8 17:9 17:18–19 17:20 17:21–23 17:21 17:23 17:24–41 17:26–33 17:34–41 18–20 18–19 18:3–6 18:4 18:7 18:9–12 18:9–11 18:13–16 18:17–20:21 18:20 18:23–24 21–24 21 21:2–7 21:3–16 21:3–11 21:7 21:11–15

Index of Ancient Texts 51, 57, 61, 62 51 52 52, 59 52, 60 85 52, 53 52 53 51, 53–57, 59, 61–68, 73f., 125, 208, 292, 295 56f. 51, 292 63 52 54 53f. 54f., 58 55 55, 60, 63 64–67, 85, 292 66 65 66 306 204 203 63, 205 55, 292 63 59, 63f. 298 52f. 25 25, 164 54 62 52, 55 298 298 54 183 57 67, 295 39 64 65–67 256, 260 73

21:12–15 21:13 22–23 22 22:8 22:11 22:13 22:15–20 22:16–20 22:16–17 22:16 22:19 22:21–23 23 23:1–15 23:5, 11 23:9 23:12–15 23:12 23:15 23:26–27 23:27 23:29–30 23:31–25:30 23:31–32, 36–37 23:33 23:34–35 23:36 24–25 24 24:1–20 24:1–17 24:1 24:2 24:2–4 24:3–4 24:5 24:7 24:8–17 24:8, 18 24:10–17 24:10 24:12 24:13 24:14–15 24:18–25:30 24:18–20 24:19

65 66–68 27, 84f., 253, 256, 295, 309 74f., 79, 84f. 79 76, 78f. 75–77, 79 76 65 73 76, 78f. 77–79 28 115, 157f. 157 256 197f. 157 164 27 64 75, 256, 260f. 51f. 58 63 58 59 60 51, 59, 61–63, 68, 74, 84 29, 53, 63, 67 59 53–57, 59f. 53f. 55 63f., 67, 73 64 85 63 295 60 55, 60 55, 60 55, 60 63f., 67, 234, 239 63 59f., 293, 295, 298 292 292

369

Index of Ancient Texts 24:20–25:30 24:20 25 25:1–8 25:1 25:2, 3–30 25:3 25:4–7 25:6–7 25:7 25:8–17 25:9 25:11, 21 25:13–17 25:13 25:14–15 25:16–17 25:16 25:17 25:18–21 25:18 25:20 25:22–26 25:25–26 25:26 25:27–30

56–57, 60 54, 59, 64, 67, 73 51, 73–75, 82–84, 236, 292–295, 350f. 60 60, 299 60 63, 80 297 84 58, 83 197, 292 160, 292 63 234, 239, 293 292 239 242 292 293 292 197 64 59, 292f. 49 83 59, 291f.

Isaiah 1–39 1:1, 5–7, 8 1:9 1:21–26 1:21 1:25 2:1–5 2:6–8 2:12–17 3:1–3, 8 5:19 6:11–12 11:11 14:3 14:24–27 22:1–14 22:3 24:1 28:17 28:29

299 297 352 145 145, 297 297 120 184 185 297 335 329 89 321 335 297 297 105 67 335

29:2 31:1 31:4 34:5 34:11 35:10 36–39 37:5–7, 28–29 38:9–20 39 40 40–66 40–55 40 40:1 40:2 40:13–14 41:9 43 43:16–21 44:28 45:1 46:9–11 49:14–26 49:14–16 49:14 51:11 52:2, 4–5, 9 53:12 54:1–10 54:3 54:16 56:7 60:7–11 63:12, 14 64:9–10 65–66 66:1

83 183 92 92 66f. 335 298 120 298 298, 301 298 299 119 113 298 301, 335 335 261 335, 342 331, 335–338 297 242 335 297 116 113 335 297 221 113 297 205 262 120 99 297 207 242, 264

Jeremiah 1 1:1, 2 1:3 1:7, 9 1:15 1:18 2–6 2 2:2

303, 307 307 293f., 300 306 294, 300 302 303 302 300

370 2:8 3:1–4:4 3:1–12 3:6–13 3:16 4:10, 19, 30–31 4:28 5:1–6 5:1–5 5:4–5 5:15 5:16–18 5:16–17 6 6:7 6:23 7 7:3–7 7:4 7:12–15 7:14 7:16–20 7:21–22 7:32, 33 8:4–5 8:8 8:23 9:20–21 10 10:17 11:2 12 12:7 12:12 13:14 14:9 14:19 15–19 15:1–4 15:4 16 16:1–9 16:2, 9 16:11 16:14–15 16:15 17:7–8, 19–27 18:1–8, 12 19:8–9

Index of Ancient Texts 302, 308 306 66 51, 62 237f., 308 302 104 117 302 117 304f. 304 302 303 213 302 120, 303f. 301 120 114 295 302 308 304 309 308 302 302 300 300 295 300 301 302 306 305 218 302f. 303 295, 302 300 303 301 302 308 84 303 303 63

19:9 19:10–11 20–21 20:1–6 22:13 22:18–19 22:30 23:7–8 23:8 24:7 25:1–7 25:1 25:13 25:14 26:3 26:6 26:7–11, 12–19, 24 27:3 27:7 27:16–22 27:19–22 28 28:1–16 28:1–9 28:1 28:3–4 28:14 28:16 29–33 29 29:12–14 29:24–32 29:29 29:32 30–31 30:7 30:8 30:12 30:17 30:18–21 30:18 30:21 31:31–34 31:33 31:34 31:37 32:1–2, 3–5 32:20 32:28–29

81, 162 303 300 302 321 29 175 308 84 207 292 301 304 321 303 114 302 30 321 235, 302 293 300, 304 302 235 301 235 304 306 309 295 207 302 302 306 300, 306 179 179, 321 303 301 306 160 179 163, 308 307 308 306 302 99 162

371

Index of Ancient Texts 32:37 32:39 32:41 33:1 33:24 34:1–7 34:8–22 34:8–11 34:8 34:9 34:12–22 34:13–18 LXX 34:14 34:17 34:18 35:18 36–45 36 36:1 37:4–11 37:5 37:11–16, 17–21 38 38:7–13 38:14–26, 27 38:17 39 39:1–10 39:3 39:15–18 40 40:7–43:7 41 41:5 42–44 43 44 44:30 45–50 45–49 45 45:1 46:2 50:5 51:12 51:53–54 51:53 51:64 52

84 305 162, 305f. 302 261 302 313–325 317f. 317, 324 321–323 318 235 320–323 324 318f. 305 301 295, 302 301 29 298 302 294 302 302 303 294f., 301, 303 294 294 302 294 293 197, 300 301 303 300f. 51 29 300 301 301f. 301 301 301 104 95 91 294 61, 293–295, 298, 300, 303, 350f.

52:5 52:6 52:10–11 52:17–23 52:19

60 299 302 234, 293 239

Ezekiel 1:1 3:15 4:4, 5, 6 6:8–10 8–11 8:3 8:12 9 9:9 10:18–22 11:22 11:23 11:24–25 12:16 14:10 14:22 17:12, 13–21 18:19, 20 19:5–9 20 20:7–9 20:10–11 20:30, 33, 43 23 23:49 24 29:16 33:21, 22 33:23–29 34–48 34:27 40:1–2 41:4 44 44:10, 12

299 299 221 352 115f., 300 299, 301 116 300 116 113 217 116 299 352 221 352 300 221 300 332–335, 342 333 137 334 51, 62, 66 221 299f. 183 299 123f. 300 321 299 232 198 221

Hosea 5 5:10 6:5 8:6 8:13

51, 66 62 145 280 182f.

372

Index of Ancient Texts

9:3 11:5

183 182

Joel 2 2:1–11 4:1, 6

297 296 296

Amos 2:4–5 2:6–8 5:18–20 7:7–10 7:9, 16 9 9:1–10

296 143 351 66f. 11 297 296

Obadiah 11, 20

296

Jonah 3:8

213

Micah 1:3 1:9, 12, 16 3:12 4:1–3 5:1 6:9–13

92 296 296 120 175 296

Nahum 3:19

303

Habakkuk 1 1:2 1:6, 12, 15 3 3:3

297 213 296 139, 146 137

Zephaniah 1 3:5 3:14–16

296f. 145 296

Haggai 1–2 1:13–14

100 100–103

2:2–9 2:2–5, 7–8 2:3 2:4, 7 2:6–7, 9

100f. 102 119f. 100 120

Zechariah 1:6 1:12, 16 2:9 4:10 5:11 7:5 8:14–15 8:19 12:3, 9 14:2–3 14:16–19

104 296 296 119 89 37 104 37 296 296f. 37

Malachi 2:11 3:4 3:16–18

296 297 207

Psalms 1 1:2 1:3 2:7 8:7 12:3 17:3 18:10 22:29 22:31–32 29:10 31:13 37:12 44 44:17–22 47:3 48:11–12 48:14 68 68:8–9 71:18 72:6 74 78:6

122f. 85, 123 123 172 175 103 104 92 175 353 172 104 104 115, 119 117 172 146 353 139, 146 137 353 92 115 353

373

Index of Ancient Texts 78:60 78:67–70 78:67 79:1 80 89:27–28 102:19 106:19 110:3 118:17 118:18 124:7 132 132:8 132:13–14 139:20 140:9 144:5

114, 270 265 261 115 115 172 353 136 172 353 352 352 265 237 264 104 104 92

Job 1:20 19:7 33:3 42:1–2

76 213 103 95, 104

Proverbs 16:23 22:11 24:2 25:4 26:23 30:4 30:32 31:16

103 103 103 205 103 92 104 104

Song of Songs 1:9–11 6:8–9

183 183

Qohelet 8:11

134

Lamentations 1:1 1:5 1:8 1:10 1:14 1:20 1:21

350 117 82, 117 115 351, 117 350, 117 251

2:1 2:2 2:5 2:6 2:7 2:13 2:14 2:16 2:17 2:19 2:20 2:22 3:10–11 3:21–66 3:42 3:45 4 4:1, 2 4:3–4, 10 4:4 4:6 4:10 4:13 4:18 4:22 5:3 5:7 5:10 5:14–15 5:16 5:18 5:20–22 5:20 5:21

350 351 83 350 116 350 117 82, 350 82, 104, 351 82 81f. 352 82 350 117 351 352 350 82 350 82 81f., 351 117 350 118 354 117 82 82 117 82 350 116 118

Esther 1:13, 20 2:1 3:1 3:9, 14 4:1 7:1 8:9

134 338 338 134 76 338 134

Daniel 1:1–2 1:2 9:2 9:15

29 89 85 99

374

Index of Ancient Texts

Ezra 1:7–11 1:8 2:36–39, 41 3–5 3:1–3 3:4 3:7 3:8–6:18 3:11–13 4:1–5 6:3–5 6:3 6:5 6:14 6:15 7:5, 13, 14 7:6 7:12 7:26 8 8:15 8:27

235, 237 134 197 102 101 37 101 101 119 101 245 230 235 101 242 121 122 148 121 201 197 134

Nehemiah 2–4 2:17–18 3–4 3 4:1 6:1–7:3 6:1–2 6:16 7:39–42, 43 8–9 8:1–15 8:1–9, 14–18 9:10 9:13–14 9:13 10:37–40 12 12:44–47

101 102 102 8f. 101 101f. 101 102 197 37 121 37 99 136 92 38 201 38

1 Chronicles 1–9 5:27–41 5:41 6:34–38 6:34

282 282 197 282 232

9 13:1–6 15–16 15:16–24 15:24 16 16:1–2, 4 16:6 16:8–36 16:28–30 16:39–42 16:39–40 17:1–2 17:1 17:8, 21 18:12 21:26 22:7–10 22:7–8 22:9–10 22:10, 17, 18 23–26 23:25 24 26:30 28:2 28:5–6, 10 28:11–19 28:11 28:15 28:19 29:1 29:7

201 271 268, 274 272 280 273 272 280 268 272 270, 272, 283 270–274, 284 263 264 99 53 272 283 263 264 264 264 264 201 278 264 265 267 134 279 267 265 134

2 Chronicles 1 1:2–6 1:3–13 1:3, 4, 5, 6 2:13 3–4 3:8, 10 3:14 4:7, 20 4:22 5:1–11, 13 5:2–14 5:2–13 5:7, 8–9

271, 273 270, 283 232 271, 274 267 245, 268 232 268 279 232 268 275, 282 269 232

375

Index of Ancient Texts 5:10 5:11–13 5:12 6 6:5–6 6:22–29 6:34 6:38 7:1–3 7:2ff. 7:3 7:11–22 7:12–16 7:12 7:13–15 7:16 8:13 9:13–28 10 11:15 12:13 13 13:8–12 13:11 23:18 24:13

233 268f. 280 262f. 260 262 260, 262 260, 262 268f. 262 269 261 265, 275, 283 260–266, 284 262 260f. 37 261 277 278 260 275–283 276–283 239 271 230

26:16–20 26:16 27:2 29:16 29:26 30 31:6 32:27–29 33:7 35 35:1–19 35:3 36 36:6 36:7, 10 36:11–21 36:11 36:12–16 36:12 36:17–20 36:18, 19 36:21 36:22

274 235 235 235 280 265 38 265 260 265 28 236 67, 197, 315 29, 53, 55 235 74, 293 293 67, 293 74 293 197 293, 315 74, 235

2. Deutero-Canonical Writings Sirach 40:19 44–50

99 19

Wisdom 9:8

245

1 Maccabees 1:20–21 1:41–42 3:24 4:49 5:55–62

239 103 160 230, 239 99

3. Mesopotamian, West-Semitic and Egyptian Texts ABC 1 i 28 3–5 5:9–11 5:15 5:15–20 5 r. 5–7 5 r. 11–13 5:15–20

48 47 54 60 48, 54 48, 54 49, 55 48

AHI 1, 405–427

49

ANET 291 294 298 300 331–334

183 183 80 80 187

376

Index of Ancient Texts

533 538–540

80 80

Codex Hammurabi

133

COS 1:476–477 2:312

171 229

Curse of Agade 279–280

118

DA RIVA, Inscriptions 2.2.2 C12 98 2.2.2 C12/1 31–41 98 2.2.6 C31 1 I 33–34 97 2.2.6 C31 1 III 27 97 2.2.7 C32 II 6–12 97 4.2.1 C21 1 II 24 96 Enuma Elish VII 39–40

171, 188 104

KAI 202 216:5–7

184 173

Lamentation of Ur 6–9 143–151

116 116f.

LANGDON, Königsinschriften Neb. 1 I 32 96 Neb. 1 II 21 96 Neb. 1 III 37 96 Neb. 4 I 22 96 Neb. 4 II 1 96 Neb. 5 I 19 96 Neb. 9 II 9 96 Neb. 12 I 23–24 98 Neb. 13 II 5.24.34 96 Neb. 14 II 15 97 Neb. 14 II 34.48 97 Neb. 14 III 7 97 Neb. 14 III 23 97 Neb. 15 IV 13 97 Neb. 15 VI 34 97 Neb. 15 VIII 51 97 Neb. 15 VIII 2.63 97

Neb. 15 IX 27 97 Neb. 17 II 7–11 97 Neb. 17 II 12–III 24 100 Neb. 19 B V 21.58 97 Neb. 19 B VI 56 97 Neb. 19 B VIII 59 97 Neb. 20 I 63.69 97 Neb. 20 II 16 97 Neb. 20 III 44 97 Neb. 21 II 5.8.26 97 Neb. 28:5 97 Neb. 32:4 97 Neb. 36:5 97 Neb. 46:8 97 Mesha Stele

12, 184

Myth of Anzu

171

Psammetichus II Inscription

29

RINAP 1 14:10 48 1 22:10' 174 1 27:3 48 1 42:17’ 48 1 42:17’–18’ 58, 174 1 47:14'–15' 174 1 49:10 174 1 49:28 174 4 1 V 40–VI 1 100 4 2 IV 32–V 12 100 4 3 IV 100 4 57 IV 7–26.39–44 100 4 57 V 35 97 4 57 VI 21 97 4 60 109 4 77:40–44 100 4 78:37–39 100 SCHAUDIG, Inschriften 2.1 II 23–25 98 2.5 1 II 2 97 2.9 1 II 1 97 2.11 1 III 18–19 97 2.12 98 2.12 1 II 47–III 7 229 2.12 11 I 100

377

Index of Ancient Texts 2.13 2.14 2.17 2.25a K2.1 32 SAA II 6 V 25:7 V 33:7 V 35:19, 24

V 113: rev. 3 VI 147:7’–8’ VI 148:4’–5’ VI 223:r.9

98 99 99 99 235

186 48 48 48

Thureau-Dangin, Rituels 127–154 187 23, 80, 147, 170 186 186 186

Yaḫdun-Lim Inscription

133

4. Ancient Greek Literature Diodorus Siculus

20, 30

Herodotus I, 49

29 96

5. Early Jewish and Rabbinic Texts Aristeas, Letter of 34–82 310

19, 241 230 230

Elephantine Documents 37 TAD A4.9 263, 274 Josephus Ant. 3.144–146 Ant. 8.104 Ant. 9.281–282 Ant. 10.37–45 Ant. 11.321–324 Bell. 7.148–149

240 232 67 67 254 240

Qumran 11QMelch 325 11QT 3–13, 30–46 269 11QT 57:15–19 181 Mishnah m. Bek. 9:7–9 m. Sanh. 2:4

38 181

Babylonian Talmud b. Pes. 6b b. Soṭah 9a b. Sanh. 21b b. Menaḥ. 98b

123 232 180 239

Index of Modern Authors Ackroyd, P. R. 234 Albertz, R. 243 Alter, R. 330 Ambos, C. 228 Amit, Y. 74 Andrason, A. 77 Arneth, M. 95 Aurelius, E. 202 Baumgart, N. C. 95 Beaulieu, P.-A. 189 Becker, U. 184 Beentjes, P. 259 Begg, C. T. 236 Bergen, D. A. 166 Berges, U. 107 Bergsma, J. 319 Berlejung, A. 89–111 Berlin, A. 118 Blanchot, M. 349 Blenkinsopp, J. 34, 197 Blum, E. 10, 94, 244 Boecker, H.-J. 144 Boyce, M. 20 Braun, R. 265 Broshi, M. 4 Camus, A. 335 Carmichael, C. M. 174 Carr, D. M. 94, 349, 354 Caruth, C. 349, 350, 353 Charlesworth, J. H. 255 Clines, D. J. A. 132 Cogan, M. 24 Cohn, R. L. 74 Crawford, C. D. 227 Cross, F. M. 21, 32, 172, 180, 198–200, 202f. Dahmen, U. 201 Dällenbach, L. 84 Daube, D. 179

Davies, G. I. 13 Davies, P. R. 33 Dion, P.-E. 139 Douglas, M. 258 Dozeman, T. B. 205 Driver, S. R. 183f., 316 Dubovský, P. 47–71 Duhm, B. 314 Dušek, J. 263 Dutcher-Walls, P. 185 Ehrensvärd, M. 33 Eissfeldt, O. 140 Emerton, J. A. 179 Eph‘al, I. 80 Finkelstein, I. 3–18, 22 Finkelstein, J. 132 Fischer, G. 162, 291–311, 318 Fletcher, A. 215 Forbes, A. D. 33 Frankena, R. 139 Freud, S. 351, 353f. Fried, L. S. 25, 119 Fritz, V. 13 Frye, N. 211, 215 George, M. K. 227 Gerbrandt, G. E. 174, 183 Gertz, J. C. 94f., 102, 107 Gevirtz, S. 79 Grabbe, L. L. 19–45 Greenberg, M. 332 Greenstein, E. J. 200 Gunkel, H. 342 Gutmann, J. 243 Hachlili, R. 240 Hamilton, M. W. 173, 188 Hanson, P. D. 198 Haran, M. 31, 36, 214 Hardmeier, C. 27

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Index of Modern Authors

Hayes, J. H. 28 Hendel, R. 175, 329–345 Herzog, Z. 25f. Hieke, T. 90 Hillers, D. R. 78, 81 Holladay, W. L. 179 Holloway, S. W. 24 Homan, M. M. 227 Hurvitz, A. 33f. Jacob, B. 106 Japhet, S. 262, 272, 316 Joosten, J. 131, 339 Kafka, F. 335 Kalimi, I. 260 Kaufman, T. 222 Kaufmann, Y. 73, 179, 258, 316 Keel, O. 144 Klein, J. 171 Knauf, E. A. 25–27, 34f. Knohl, I. 32, 131 Knoppers, G. 181, 185, 267, 273, 277 Lambert, W. G. 186 Langgut, D. 9 Lemche, N. P. 37 Leuenberger, M. 137 Levin, C. 92 Levinson, B. M. 140f., 147, 313–327 Lipschits, O. 50, 120 Lohfink, N. 135, 177, 316 MacDonald, N. 197–209 Machinist, P. 173 Magdalene, F. R. 220 Maier, C. 317f., 323 Markl, D. 74f., 84f., 166, 227–251 Maul, S. M. 171 McCarthy, D. J. 23 McKay, J. W. 24 Meadowcroft, T. 120 Mendenhall, G. E. 23 Merendino, R. P. 178 Mettinger, T. N. D. 178 Meyers, C. L. 120 Meyers, E. M. 120 Miglus, P. 96 Milgrom, J. 31–33, 36, 216f., 258, 316

Millard, A. R. 85 Miller, J. M. 27 Momigliano, A. D. 123 Montgomery, J. A. 125 Morrow, W. S. 140 Mosis, R. 267 Mowinckel, S. 314 Na’aman, N. 5, 22, 25, 28 Nelson, R. D. 77, 81, 356 Nicholson, E. W. 179, 317 Nihan, C. 211, 213, 253–288 Nocquet, D. 202 Noth, M. 13, 136, 242, 254, 256 O’Connor, K. M. 351, 353 Oshima, T. 104 Otto, E. 140f., 144, 155–168, 170, 356 Quilligan, M. 212 Paganini, S. 81 Pat-El, N. 33 Perlitt, L. 138f. Pfeiffer, H. 137 Polzin, R. 34 Propp, W. C. H. 205 Pury, A. de 10 Rad, G. von 73, 94, 106, 138, 177 Radner, K. 186 Reade, J. 172 Reimer, D. J. 177, 183 Rendsburg, G. A. 133 Rendtorff, R. 34 Rezetko, R. 33 Rom-Shiloni, D. 331 Römer, T. 10f., 349 Rosenberg, J. 212, 215 Rossi, A. de 123 Rudolph, W. 317f., 325 Samuel, H. 201 Sass, B. 6 Schäfer-Lichtenberger, C. 177 Schenker, A. 255 Schmid, K. 64, 129–153, 256 Schniedewind, W. M. 4, 131 Schuele, A. 97, 103, 109

Index of Modern Authors Schwienhorst-Schönberger, L. 141, 177 Seeligman, I. L. 73 Silberman, N. A. 4 Singer-Avitz, L. 8 Ska, J. L. 113–128, 147, 354, 356 Smith, J. Z. 188 Smith, M. 21 Sommer, B. D. 188, 214 Sonnet, J.-P. 73–86, 190, 341, 349–357 Spieckermann, H. 24 Stackert, J. 131, 147, 211–226 Steil, A. 349 Steuernagel, C. 316 Steymans, H. U. 23, 77 Stoebe, H. J. 175 Stulman, L. 180 Sweeney, M. 205 Thiel, W. 318 Thomason, S. G. 222 Tiemeyer, L.-S. 116 Tigay, J. H. 77, 79, 83 Uehlinger, C. 27, 92, 94, 97, 101–103, 106 Ussishkin, D. 25

381

Van der Toorn, K. 4 Van Seters, J. 203, 316 Veijola, T. 159 Vermeylen, J. 203 Vern, R. C. 33 Watts, J. W. 199–202, 282 Wazana, N. 169–194 Weber, M. 349 Weinfeld, M. 139, 182, 319 Wellhausen, J. 32, 131, 139, 146, 198, 227, 243, 254, 257, 314f. Wells, B. 220 Wenham, G. J. 107 Wette, W. L. M. de 253 Wilson-Wright, A. 33 Witte, M. 92f., 95 Wunsch, C. 220 Young, I. 32f. Zaccagnini, C. 169 Zimmerli, W. 93f., 332