The Oxford Handbook of Ezekiel 9780190634513, 9780190634544, 9780190634537, 0190634510

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T h e Ox f o r d H a n d b o o k o f

EZEKIEL

The Oxford Handbook of

EZEKIEL Edited by

CORRINE CARVALHO

Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and certain other countries. Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press 198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America. © Oxford University Press 2023 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, by license, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reproduction rights organization. Inquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above. You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Carvalho, Corrine, editor. Title: The Oxford handbook of Ezekiel / edited by Corrine Carvalho. Description: New York, NY, United States of America : Oxford University Press, [2023] | Series: Oxford handbooks series | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Identifiers: LCCN 2022051685 (print) | LCCN 2022051686 (ebook) | ISBN 9780190634513 (hardback) | ISBN 9780190634544 | ISBN 9780190634537 (epub) Subjects: LCSH: Bible. Ezekiel. Classification: LCC BS1545.55 .O94 2023 (print) | LCC BS1545.55 (ebook) | DDC 224/.406—dc23/eng/20230130 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022051685 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022051686 DOI: 10.1093/​oxfordhb/​9780190634513.001.0001 Printed by Integrated Books International, United States of America

Contents

Acknowledgments  Contributors  1. Ezekiel Scholarship in the Twenty-​first Century  Corrine Carvalho

ix xi 1

2. Ezekiel in Its Historical Context  Marvin A. Sweeney

18

3. The Mesopotamian Context of Ezekiel  Daniel Bodi

34

4. Ezekiel and Israel’s Legal Traditions  Michael A. Lyons

60

5. Ezekiel among the Prophetic Tradition  Anja Klein

77

6. Ezekiel and Israelite Literary Traditions  Dexter E. Callender

107

7. Text-​Critical Issues in Ezekiel  Timothy P. Mackie

128

8. Rhetorical Strategies in the Book of Ezekiel  Dale Launderville

147

9. Ezekiel as a Written Text: Archiving Visions, Remembering Futures  166 Ian D. Wilson 10. Ezekiel among the Exiles  Dalit Rom-​Shiloni

187

11. Ezekiel and Politics  Madhavi Nevader

218

vi   Contents

12. Priests, Levites, and the Nasi: New Roles in Ezekiel’s Future Temple  Tova Ganzel

237

13. Ezekiel’s Concept of Covenant  John Strong

255

14. Ezekiel and the Foreign Nations  C. L. Crouch

278

15. Ezekiel and the Priestly Traditions  Stephen L. Cook

295

16. Communications of the Book of Ezekiel: From the Iron Wall to the Voice in the Air  Soo J. Kim Sweeney

312

17. Ezekiel in Christian Interpretation: Gog, Magog, and Apocalyptic Politics  Andrew Mein

330

18. Pastoral Appropriations of Ezekiel  Steven Tuell

347

19. Ezekiel in the Jewish Tradition  Yedida Eisenstat

362

20. Where There’s Fire There’s Smoke: Text and Image in the Ezekiel Painting at Dura-​Europos  Margaret S. Odell

384

21. Ezekiel and Gender  Amy Kalmanofsky

402

22. Embodiment in Ezekiel  Rhiannon Graybill

418

23. Ezekiel as Trauma Literature  Ruth Poser

437

24. Uncertainties in First Contact? Ezekiel’s Struggle Toward a “Comparative Gaze”  Daniel L. Smith-​Christopher

455

Contents   vii

25. Ezekiel’s Map of Future Past  Carla Sulzbach

472

26. Ezekiel Imperialized Geographies in the Nation Oracles  Steed Vernyl Davidson

492

27. Ezekiel’s Tangible Ethics: Physicality in the Moral Rhetoric of Ezekiel  510 Corrine Carvalho Index

525

Acknowledgments

Much of this volume includes scholars who have worked together at the Society of Biblical Literature in sections dedicated to research on the book of Ezekiel (formerly Theological and Anthropological Approaches to the Book of Ezekiel, now called simply The Book of Ezekiel). I wish to thank the Society of Biblical Literature, the various chairs of this section, and my many colleagues and friends without whom this work would not have been possible.

Contributors

Daniel Bodi, Professor of History of Religions of Antiquity, Sorbonne University Dexter E. Callender Jr., University of Miami Corrine Carvalho, Professor, University of St. Thomas Stephen L. Cook, Catherine N. McBurney Professor of Old Testament Language and Literature, Virginia Theological Seminary C. L. Crouch, Professor of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament and Ancient Judaism; Research Associate, Radboud University; University of Pretoria Steed Vernyl Davidson, Professor of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament; Vice President of Academic Affairs and Dean of the Faculty, McCormick Theological Seminary Yedida Eisenstat, Affiliated Fellow, Center for the Study of Law and Religion, Emory University Tova Ganzel, Senior Lecturer, Bar-​Ilan University Rhiannon Graybill, Associate Professor, Rhodes College Amy Kalmanofsky, Blanche and Romie Shapiro Professor of Bible and the Dean of List College and the Kekst Graduate School, Jewish Theological Seminary Anja Klein, Senior Lecturer in Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament, University of Edinburgh Dale Launderville, Professor of Theology, St. John’s University Michael A. Lyons, Senior Lecturer in Old Testament/​Hebrew Bible, University of St. Andrews Timothy P. Mackie, Research Scholar, BibleProject Andrew Mein, Senior Lecturer in Biblical Interpretation and Academic Editor, University of St. Andrews Madhavi Nevader, Lecturer in Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament, University of St. Andrews Margaret S. Odell, Professor Emerita, St. Olaf College Ruth Poser, Independent Scholar Dalit Rom-​Shiloni, Associate Professor, Tel Aviv University

xii   Contributors Daniel L. Smith-​ Christopher, Professor of Old Testament, Loyola Marymount University John Strong, Professor of Religious Studies, Missouri State University Carla Sulzbach, Independent Scholar Marvin A. Sweeney, Professor of Hebrew Bible, Claremont School of Theology Soo J. Kim Sweeney, Adjunct Professor, Claremont School of Theology Steven Tuell, James A. Kelso Professor Emeritus of Hebrew and Old Testament, Pittsburgh Theological Seminary Ian D. Wilson, Associate Professor of Religious Studies, University of Alberta, Augustana Campus

Chapter 1

Ezekiel Schol a rsh i p in the T wen t y- ​f i rst Centu ry Corrine Carvalho

Introduction The book of Ezekiel has never had the same cultural or academic influence as Isaiah or Jeremiah. While certain parts of the book have played significant roles in the history of biblical interpretation, as a whole the book’s unique characteristics have garnered what today might be called a fringe following. I doubt that the trend will change significantly in this century. In fact, the past fifty years have seen a rise in objections to the book on ethical grounds, particularly from feminist scholarship. Not only is the main human figure in the book odd enough that his mental health has been questioned, but the characterization of God feeds into a theology of judgment, damnation, and self-​righteous violence. Ezekiel scholars, as a result, form a rather unique subset of biblical scholars, drawing in those who appreciate the rhetorical elements of an ancient text that continues to evoke strong reactions from its audience. Some scholars are drawn to the book because it seems to offer steady ground; its redactional seams are either far fewer or better hidden than is found in Isaiah or Jeremiah. The author’(s) adept use of ancient genre, such as theoretical ethics (ch. 18), temple building accounts (chs. 40–​48), historical reviews (20), and manipulation of more traditional prophetic genre such as vision reports, dirges, and stock metaphors, to name just a few, reveal a different kind of literary creativity than is evident in other prophetic books. The text’s echoes of Israelite traditions evident in other biblical books suggests the book might provide a lynchpin for dating other biblical texts. Its ability to undergird traditional theologies of divine transcendence attracts those who eschew a more imminent theology.

2   Corrine Carvalho The lack of ambiguity in the text also attracts those who are leery of postmodern approaches to biblical texts, including Bakhtinian dialogical reading, suggestions of subversive counter-​narratives, or any notion of a theology that deconstructs itself. Even its written literary appearance has tempered discussions of competing voices in the text. All this is to say that the scholarship on the book of Ezekiel has remained rather traditional because of the nature of the book itself. This essay will outline the major trends in scholarship on Ezekiel before moving on to more recent engagements with trauma theory and postcolonial readings. This survey will reflect my own journey building the contents of this handbook. I have been working on Ezekiel for over thirty years now; it is a field that has benefitted from a very devoted group of scholars who meet regularly and share vibrant discussions, which I have tried to represent in the authors and subjects of this handbook. This introduction will illuminate some of the issues around which the most vigorous debates revolve, but I also hope that both the introduction and the volume exhibit the trust and respect this community has for each other’s academic excellence even in the midst of disagreement. We are all better scholars because of the depth and honesty of approaches that differ from our own. For me, this model of scholarship as a communal dialogical project is one that our guild should more explicitly exhibit. Even with this community of scholars, however, Ezekiel scholarship is also a field where those who utilize newer approaches to biblical material struggle to break in. As a result, I had difficulty finding people able or willing to address the book from a variety of methods and perspectives that I had hoped to engage, including a trajectory of contextual readings, a more multivalent approach to gender as performance, and a vibrant application of poetics and rhetoric that places the fantastical elements of the book more centrally. These lacunae also inform this chapter, so I will end with some suggestions about where I hope the field will go in the future.

1.  Redaction or Reduction: The Legacies of Zimmerli and Greenberg The second half of the twentieth century was shaped in large part by two magisterial multivolume commentaries on the book of Ezekiel. First, the detailed historical-​ critical commentary by Zimmerli (1979 and 1983), marks the best of the German tradition of carefully argued redaction-​critical analyses of the book. This was countered by the Greenberg’s incomplete but highly influential commentary (1983 and 1997) that read the book as having a redactional unity stemming primarily from the prophet himself. This scholarly variation marked out the playing field for much of the subsequent scholarship on the book. While Zimmerli’s detailed divisions of the text did not win the day, neither did Greenberg’s simple unified text. The debate

Ezekiel Scholarship in the Twenty-first Century    3 laid bare the unique contours of this “major” prophetic book. German scholars such as Pohlmann (1992) have been influenced more by the work of Zimmerli, while Israeli and English-​speaking scholars, especially those who are students of Childs and Block such as S. Cook (2018), tend to align with the holistic approaches and early dating of Greenberg. The book does have signs of more conscious structuring across its chapters, through repetitions, Wiederaufnahmen (rhetorical hooks between major sections of the book), and a forty-​eight-​chapter semi-​narrative arc. On the other hand, the book also contains some internal inconsistencies, changes in terminology, and varying political ideals. John Barton infers that redaction can only be discovered when the editorial work is sloppy (1996, esp. 20–​26); a well-​edited multilayered text can appear to be a unified composition. Is the book of Ezekiel one of these cases? The details in the book suggest that the bulk of the material predates the Persian period. Perhaps the most convincing evidence comes from Ezek 29:17–​20, where an earlier oracle about the downfall of Tyre (26:7) has been revised, but the revision itself contradicts Babylon’s inability to defeat Egypt, a fact that would have been known once Babylon had itself become a vassal of Persia (Greenberg 1986, esp. 134–​35). Second, the vision of restoration in ­chapters 40–​48 does not reflect the issues of inclusion and identity that characterize the final chapters of Isaiah and later layers in Jeremiah; nor do they wrestle with the same practicalities of rebuilding found in Haggai-​Zechariah 1–​8, or the reflection of a failed ideal that lies behind Ezra-​Nehemiah. As a result, most Ezekiel scholars view the bulk of the book as reflecting the idealizations of “homeland” circulating among former elites in the Babylonian diaspora. Scholars do entertain arguments for sporadic secondary additions to the book. Probably the material that is most often viewed as a secondary addition is ­chapter 44’s view of the priesthood, which does not reflect the priestly terminology of the rest of the book (Tuell 2005). Some scholars would see the references to the restoration of a Davidic king in 33:23–​24 as also contrary to the book’s insistence that the human leader is merely a “prince” (nāśȋ’) in relation to God (Duguid 1994; Nihan 2015). The textual variants in Papyrus 967 in ­chapters 36–​40 especially suggest that ­chapters 38–​39 were added later, although in two different spots depending on the textual tradition (Lust 1981; Lilly 2012; Mackie 2015). While redaction-​critical research on Ezekiel was robust in the second half of the twentieth century, the past two decades have witnessed a fascination with the relationship of the legal philosophy in Ezekiel with that found in various strata of the Pentateuch, which raises questions about the relative dates of these bodies of literature. Haran (1979) argues for a pre-​exilic P that functioned as the esoteric literature of the priestly group, of which Ezekiel was a part. Cook (2018), following Knohl’s reconstruction of a pre-​exilic Holiness School (1995), which extends beyond the Holiness Code, traces connections between the two corpora. Kohn (2002) examined parallels with both D and P, again opting for a pre-​exilic date for both traditions, while Lyons (2009) utilizes linguistic analysis to posit Ezekiel’s transformations of pre-​exilic legislation in the Holiness Code

4   Corrine Carvalho into accusations. These studies have become so dominant in Ezekiel scholarship that they now form a dominant trend in current scholarship of the book. Different approaches to redactional analyses can be found in I. Wilson’s work on Tyre (2013), Nihan on the royal figure (2015), and Guillaume’s discussion of the lack of Ezekiel’s influence in the early Persian period (2015), studies that suggest caution for several reasons. The scholars who connect Ezekiel to premonarchic Pentateuchal traditions admit that, while the book of Ezekiel has many similar categories of H and P, the laws are not exact replications of Pentateuchal material. In fact, this variance is what gave the rabbinic tradition pause over accepting the book as “defiling the hands.” Scholars, including myself, who question a model of a scribal priest who makes deliberate adaptations to semi-​canonical law codes, critique this model for several reasons. First, the model that the book of Ezekiel uses and adapts written Pentateuchal sources assumes that we have all the legal scrolls that would have been in circulation when the scroll of Ezekiel was written. Second, it presumes that the versions of chapters within the Pentateuch that resemble material in Ezekiel have not changed since the pre-​exilic period. Both assumptions are viewed as rather unlikely, utilizing anachronistic models of composition. While I am in the latter camp, I appreciate the weight of evidence brought by my colleagues about the proximity in language and worldview, even if we disagree about the reasons for those parallels. Although I still am skeptical about the transition models and directions, I am acutely aware of the intellectual milieu within which the language and perspective of the book of Ezekiel plays out. There is undoubtedly a plethora of parallels between H and Ezekiel, along with notable differences, data for which we all provide models. This case demonstrates that the scholarship on Ezekiel often stems from respectful and meaty debates through which all arguments are honed, which is reflected in the various perspectives in this handbook.

2.  Scribal Practice and the Scroll of Ezekiel The rise in discussions of scribal practices have also entered into debates about the compositional history of the book. On the one hand, the book’s own rhetorical elements and use of more prose elements than found in other prophetic scrolls suggest that textualization was central to the book’s production; in fact, it seems to have an awareness of its own textuality, symbolized perhaps most poignantly by the prophet’s swallowing of the scroll (Davis 1989). The book’s self-​conscious textualization has supported a reconstruction of the author as a scribal figure. Often, though, discussions of the written context of the book’s production does not address the interplay of orality even within ancient scribal production. For example, in the discussions of the book’s use of other Israelite traditions,

Ezekiel Scholarship in the Twenty-first Century    5 both legal and prophetic, models often assume textual copying without any interplay of orality in that reuse. The author of Ezekiel would not so much have copied earlier written traditions as received them along with oral transmissions that the written texts supported. Recent work by Stökl (2015 and 2017) and Bodi (1991 and 2015) have demonstrated the likelihood that this author had formal scribal training in Babylonian settings. As a result, it seems more likely to posit a Judean exile using the techniques of writing to re-​interpret oral traditions, which may have also been secondarily available through written texts, that would have informed the identity of this community in creative and innovative ways. There is evidence of this throughout the book, such as the engagement with Isaiah 6’s visionary call narrative, or the echoes of Hosea’s allegories of the adulterous urban wife. In these examples found within the prophetic tradition, the author clearly utilized an artistic freedom to create, not a canonical document, but an aesthetic reflection on the distortion of Israelite traditions through the experience of defeat and shame. It seems to me probable that this author would have taken a similar approach to legal traditions, some of which have been preserved in written form in the Pentateuch. The growing body of work on orality and textualization especially in the Second Temple period has begun to have its effect on scholarship on Ezekiel. While Ben Zvi’s analyses of the written nature of the prophetic traditions in the canon dealt only minimally with Ezekiel, Ian Wilson (2013) and Guillaume (2015) have tackled this major question. Frankly, it is not just a historical question, but gets to the heart of the genre of written prophetic collections. What is it we are reading when we open these books? Certainly, there is nothing exactly like them extant in the Near Eastern repertoire, as Edelman, for example, points out (2009, 29–​54). While twentieth-​century scholarship posited an oral performance by a named prophet whose speech acts were preserved by disciples or a school, there are several explicit reasons why the book of Ezekiel counters such a model. First, the prophet himself is rendered mute at the beginning of the book, although he is allowed to speak only divinely authorized speech; this element, which structures the book, seems more like a rhetorical device to address authenticity than as an historically accurate memory. Second, Ezekiel’s own audience fundamentally does not view him as a prophet, at least in 33:32. To be sure, the elders consult him on two occasions (8:1; 20:1), but they do not heed him. Third, the prophetic speeches in the book would not have functioned well at the oral level, especially the nine-​chapter prose vision that closes the book. Fourth, the use of dates and the vision of divine presence in three acts to structure the book function as an editorial roadmap to the final complex anthology. If the book is a literary creation, as many scholars have maintained, then more fundamental questions arise. Is this a literary fantasy which plays with social memories of priesthood, prophecy, and temple elites with little to no reflection of an historical reality? How would the text have ever been actualized such that it survived to become part of a canonical collection? It could not have been solely esoteric literature, because at some point, by or in the Second Temple period, this body of literature had begun to form the collective identity of Persian Yehud, not as a kind of proto-​gnostic

6   Corrine Carvalho secret, but as a publicly accessible, discreet and named tradition. I wish I knew the mechanism for this, but I suspect it had less to do with orthodoxy than it did with artistry. The book of Ezekiel fundamentally intertwines oral and visual artistry. If any prophetic book begs for a graphic novel version, it is Ezekiel! While most scholarship on the book has focused on its literary artistry, the book repeatedly paints vivid pictures based on the main character’s rich visionary experiences, thus creating a fundamental irony of a book that begs to be seen. The temple visions certainly structure the book, but in between the triptych of these three main visions (chs. 1, 8–​11, 40–​48) are various panels replete with visual symbols (e.g., trees, lions, vines, mountains, bloody pots, swords, watchmen, sheep, and bones to name only a few). These visual elements complicate the oral-​ written dichotomy of many global approaches to prophetic books, both in the older model of an oral moment that becomes textualized and in the more recent model of written texts actualized through oral performance. Ezekiel as avatar simply does not perform (although at one point the book’s audience claims that he does). He shows. How would this particular kind of speech have been actualized in the ancient context? Would it have added drawing to speech and performance, like Jesus drawing in the dirt in John 8:6? Or did it simply rely on the imagination of a real audience listening to the visual descriptions? Either way, the book presumes the meaning-​making and emotional impact of these visual elements.

3.  Ezekiel and Babylon: It’s Complicated Ezekiel’s relationship with Mesopotamian cultural elements displays the cultural hybridity of a diasporic community. The book of Ezekiel, which does not include Babylon in its “Oracles against the Nation,” for example, clearly views the Babylonian defeat of Jerusalem as the worst punishment God could muster, outside of perhaps Magog, which many read as a cypher for Babylon. This bifurcated stance toward Babylonian power in the book can be illustrated by the visual elements that dominate the book’s discourse. Scholars have long noted striking usage of Mesopotamian motifs in the book of Ezekiel, especially in terms of the visual elements of the text. One way to interpret the combination of visual and textual elements in the book connects them to the Assyrian and Babylonian monumental iconography where the interplay of iconography and inscription create a rich intertext (Hulster, Strawn, and Bonfiglio 2015). In the late twentieth century, scholars focused on the textual parallels to Mesopotamian literature, especially the Erra Epic (Bodi 1991) and other narratives featuring divine abandonment (Kutsko 2000). Odell’s 2005 commentary on Ezekiel explores parallels with neo-​ Assyrian inscriptions and iconography. In the past decade, there have been three significant contributions to the ANE background of the book: evidence of the author’s scribal education in Babylon (Stökl 2015 and 2017), the

Ezekiel Scholarship in the Twenty-first Century    7 iconographic influences springing from the foundational work by Keel (Uehlinger and Trufaut 2001; Bodi 2015; Aster 2015), and the study of Babylonian influence in the temple vision (Ganzel 2021). In addition, Marzouk (2015) has examined the depiction of Egypt in the book (see also Carvalho 2015). The author(s) of the book utilize(s) the same artistic license with Near Eastern traditions that they do with Israelite ones. In the oracles against Egypt, for example, the author turns Egyptian royal iconography on its head (a serpent that can fished out of its beloved Nile, a powerful arm broken, a landscape of the living dead). Together these studies of the Near Eastern context of the material in the book not only project the ideal author as a former elite with cosmopolitan knowledge now living in Babylon, but also presumes an audience for whom these images have some meaning potential. Such an assumption fits the diasporic setting of the book, where hybridity and mimicry become part of the colonized repertoire. To be sure, not all of the images would have been meaningful for every “reader,” and some may be aimed at Zvi’s “literati,” but enough must have been impactful beyond an esoteric inner cabal. For me the combination of text and visual imagery parallels the ways that Mesopotamian (and perhaps Egyptian) monumental works reached out to multiple audiences through its combination of iconography and inscription. The simple dichotomy of visual for the illiterate and textual for the literate no longer holds. The inscriptions that were meant to be actualized orally would have been accessible to the illiterate, while inscriptions in hidden or inaccessible places (such as foundation stones or inaccessible cliffs) functioned on a different plane of meaning than a viewer’s personal experience. Even copies of hidden iconography had a function derivative and different from the original hidden art. This complexity of visual and textual informs the combination of similar elements in the book of Ezekiel. It should not be surprising, then, that parts of the book were composed with the possibility of public actualization in mind, others as artistry most appreciated by an educated elite while other texts derived their meaning from their mere physical existence rather than a text that actualizes meaning through the act of reading/​reception. Ezekiel combines text as story, text as archive, text as artifact, and text as totem.

4.  Play That Tune: Thematic Studies of the Book of Ezekiel While many scholars have examined the world behind the text, including its production, historical context, and redaction, others have focused more on the contents of the book, including some of its major themes and concerns. In addition to studies on priesthood (MacDonald, 2015), kingship (Crouch 2011; Nevader 2015a and 2015b), land (Pikor 2018), and the law (Kemp, 2020), which have often sprung from a strong interest in the

8   Corrine Carvalho world behind the text, scholars have also highlighted the prominence of the spirit, the temple, and ethical discourse in the book. The frequency of the word rȗ’aḥ throughout the book with its various nuances has led to studies of the role of the spirit in the book. The two most prominent among these are Robson’s discussion (2006) of spirit and the prophetic office, and Launderville’s monograph (2007) that reads the lexeme through the lens of both Mesopotamian and Hellenistic concepts of a similar spirit, which grounds Ezekiel’s spirit as an animating force for all human activities, especially rational thinking. Both of these highly nuanced studies uncover the complexity and nuance of the book’s use of the term. The unifying rhetorical function of the temple in the book has also elicited many vibrant studies. The final nine chapters of the book has been a repeated site of scholarly discussion over the past several decades from Gese (1957) and Levenson (1976) to Tuell (1992), Rudnig (2000), Konkel (2001), and Ganzel (2021). Very few connect the final vision with the rest of the book. Notable exceptions include the studies of the trope of divine abandonment in Bodi (1991) and Kutsko (2000). The discussion of intergenerational guilt in Ezekiel 18 has elicited a number of studies of the ethical worldview of the book. While the use of singular nouns, father and child, in the long discussion of moral responsibility suggest an early attempt of fleshing out a concept of individual moral responsibility, Joyce (1989) and Mein (2001), building on the work of Kaminsky (1995), have cogently argued for these figures’ function as symbols of corporate identity. Lapsley (2000) approaches the ethical question from a different angle, pointing to the tension between agency and determinism in the book’s moral horizon. For the most part, studies of the reception history of Ezekiel have been episodic, focused primarily on individual passages, rather than on the book as a whole. For example, New Testament studies have noted the influence of Ezekiel on the Gospel of John (Peterson 2015) and the book of Revelation (Bøe 2001). The vision of God in Ezekiel has elicited both the Merkabah mystical tradition in Judaism with its focus on the chariot while simultaneously the description of the four faces of the cherubim has provided the standard iconography of the four evangelists in the Christian tradition. The vision of the resurrection of the dry bones has provided hope for contemporary diasporic and minoritized communities, while the highly symbolic language of Gog from Magog has fueled the imagination of millenarianism from the New Testament to Cold War America (Joyce, 2011; Joyce and Mein, 2014). Guillaume (2015) wrestles with the book’s failure to become a site of memory, suggesting that the book’s interpretation of the fall of Jerusalem represents a minority view and that the book is only preserved for its supply of visionary material that is read through the lens of hope. For me the most interesting aspect of the history of the book’s interpretation is how it tends to bracket out texts that do not fit the interpreting communities’ dominant theological paradigms, a trend that continues into the use of the book in the modern lectionary traditions. Ezekiel’s son of man predicts Jesus, the dry bones pre-​figure resurrection, and the good shepherd underlies Christian messianic models. No wonder most contemporary readers experience cognitive dissonance when faced with the book’s thorough-​going pessimistic view of human nature.

Ezekiel Scholarship in the Twenty-first Century    9

5.  Irredeemable Ezekiel: The Book as Unholy Scripture Feminist interpretation of Ezekiel 16 and 23 has become a prominent vehicle for discussions of the reception of the book. Although most of these studies again focus only on these discreet chapters, some scholars have used that as a basis for exploring the impact of Ezekiel on other aspects of Christian hegemonic hierarchies. The second half of the twentieth century witnessed widespread denouncement of the ideologies, images, and idioms of the book of Ezekiel, especially in the extensive gendered metaphors in ­chapters 16 and 23. Arising primarily from feminist critiques of the ways in which biblical rhetoric reinforced sexism and contributed to a Christian tolerance of domestic violence, these chapters became a classic case study of whether some biblical passages should be excised either in practice (by not reading them in liturgical settings, for example) or in reality. Interpretation of the passage also became a litmus test for whether a scholar was adequately grounded in second wave feminist methodology. The fact that God is the agent of the gender violence in these chapters broadens the critique to other scholarly critiques of certain scriptural images of God as being “unholy,” to use my own term. Many scholars connected divine violence to an overly simplistic and sometimes anachronistic model of patriarchy, and often projected a unidirectional path of influence from text to reader. The discussion of the status of these chapters, as well as other similar passages, addresses interconnected elements of the book, including the relationship between the book’s ancient meaning and its subsequent reception history. The history of research on ­chapter 16 in particular is too long to rehearse, but some general trends bear mentioning. Weems (1995) and Shields (1998) have examined how the book contributes to Christian tolerance of domestic abuse and the persistence of a rape culture, respectively. These approaches are concerned with the real-​life effects of texts that have the elevated social function as sacred scripture, which intensifies the impact of this particular material. These and similar studies, then, can be read as examining the hidden transcript of the book’s reception history. As a guild, the intense scrutiny of ­chapters 16 and 23 has affected overall assessments of the book. Boer (2013), for example, presents a phallic-​centric reading of the book’s production. Galambush (1992) studies the gyno-​centric spatiality of the city that permeates the book. As a result, many other influential texts in the history of the interpretation of the book of Ezekiel have taken a back seat, some for good and some for ill. Many feminist studies of the ­chapters 16 and 23 also posit an historical horizon that was itself thoroughly patriarchal, a conclusion that has been challenged by Yee (2003) and Meyers (2014) as anachronistic, especially for an agrarian society where elite women had more agency than some of these models suggest. Yee (2003) provides a more complex analysis of the gender categories in this material, adding especially the lens of race, class, and colonial economics (materialist reading) to provide a more thorough-​going intersectional reading of the material, grounding her analysis in the literature’s ancient

10   Corrine Carvalho social context. Her study uncovers the hegemonic concerns that the extended metaphor in ­chapter 23 addresses.

6.  Reading Ezekiel in the Twenty-​First Century The past two decades have seen a growing number of scholars applying newer lenses to the interpretation to the book, especially trauma and postcolonial theories. While neither of these consist of a specific method, they both represent attempts to bring the sociological and psychological background of the text to the fore. Because these are newer approaches to the ancient text, the models created by the theories vary. For example, trauma readings of prophetic books generally fall into two camps: those that explore the trauma of the writer and those that focus on the text as a product of and for traumatized communities. Focus on Ezekiel as a traumatized individual author continues the trajectory of psychological readings of the book from the twentieth century. One could argue that Halperin’s model of an author who had experienced childhood sexual trauma was a kind of trauma reading (1993), although it is more properly Freudian. Poser’s magisterial analysis of Ezekiel as trauma literature (2012; see also 2016) reads the book as providing a narrative that gives voice to the unspeakable. One of the challenges for these readings, however, is that they presume a date for the production of the text within the generation of the traumatized individual. Odell’s work (2016) adds the concept of collective fragmented memory broadening the perspective of analysis from the individual to the communal, a move within sociological analyses of the text. More work needs to be done on trauma literature as a reflection of communal intergenerational sites of traumatic memory in order to move the discussion beyond the book’s production to a discussion of its preservation within Persian period scribal literati. Colonial occupation by the Persians continued the systemic and sustained intergenerational trauma, as postcolonial theory notes. The application of postcolonial theory to Ezekiel has only just begun. While there have been monographs on Judahite identity formation in the book of Ezekiel, most of these do it in the context of the forced migration of exile (Strine 2013; Rom-​Shiloni 2013; Pikor 2018), rather than the enduring colonialization into the post-​exilic period. Often focusing on the Persian period as the setting that combines both systemic colonial imposition as well as a native/​Jerusalemite means of scribal production, postcolonial approaches tend to presume a post-​exilic date for the book’s production. These analyses, however, have not yet addressed the lack of “typical” Persian-​period concerns, such as authorized builders of the Second Temple, the definition of “foreignness” (except for ­chapter 44), or economic stagnation. Joo’s use of Rushdie’s narrative techniques (2014) reveals a fertile field for further exploration of the intergenerational colonized contexts for the book’s unique features.

Ezekiel Scholarship in the Twenty-first Century    11 These methods, represented in many of the essays in this volume, have begun to move the discussion of Ezekiel away from an analysis of a presumed historical person to the text as a literary production, within which Ezekiel functions as a character or persona. This move has taken much longer in Ezekiel studies than it has with scholarship on either Isaiah or Jeremiah, books that have clear multiple authorship. Although there was a time when scholars searched for the historical Jeremiah because of the evocative nature of his first-​person poems and laments especially in ­chapters 11–​20, more recent analyses have given up thinking that such a person can be recovered. Because of the more unified nature of the book of Ezekiel and because the book’s content more consistently reflects an exilic setting, scholars of the book regularly refer to the author of the book as “Ezekiel,” not just as a shorthand for an unrecoverable anonymous author, but as the physical author of most of the original scroll. For example, both S. Cook and Rom-​Shiloni work from the presumption that the book reflects the work of an historical Ezekiel. Even analyses of Ezekiel in Babylon often build on the assumption of a historical Ezekiel. Some scholars have begun to challenge these assumptions as oversimplified and inconsistent with the literary nature of the material at hand. For these scholars, which include myself, even if someone named Ezekiel produced the text as an exile living in Babylon, which clearly is a viable option for the book’s production, his use of himself within the scroll is not done in the service of historical accuracy, record, or annal. He presents himself as a literary character who has a particular rhetorical function. Reading Ezekiel as a literary device, however, has the potential of unhinging the date of the book from its content. Such a character could be an individual turning themself into an avatar, but it could also be the product of an author a century or more later who had particular skill in maintaining consistency in creating an historical setting of a traditional persona, either as a reflex of the oral traditions attached to an historical prophet or a complete literary creation. These debates about the historical prophet are not new; they are found in the work of Torrey to site the most influential early proponent of a late date for the book (1930). I do not think that the debate can be settled. It is not surprising then that the predilections and assumptions of scholars about date and historical reliability play a role in models of the function of the character of Ezekiel within the text.

7. Ezekiel Ad Futurum As noted above, the interpretation of the book of Ezekiel has become increasingly robust in the past five decades. Scholars have engaged in substantive and respectful debate about many aspects of the book, creating a solid foundation for advancing the field. Where the field goes next, I am not sure; I study prophets but do not claim to be one. What follows are three areas that I hope blossom over the next fifty years. My interpretations and hopes stem from my own predilections and assumptions about the text, some of which stem from my personal historical and cultural context, a

12   Corrine Carvalho granddaughter of poor, uneducated emigrants to America, first-​generation college student, raised Catholic, educated in Catholic settings until entering doctoral work, educator in an American Catholic university although now a practicing Lutheran. My own legacy of intergenerational family trauma (including sexual trauma), the social teaching traditions of Catholic ethics, and early childhood formation in the midst of the civil rights movement, anti-​war protests, the women’s movement, and Vatican II reforms shape what would be my vision of a perfect “temple”: one of radical hospitality and foundational conversion of our collective culture. These convictions are displayed in my hopes for the field going forward. First, I have often yearned for more robust, sustained diverse voices in the field of Ezekiel studies. As someone who has witnessed and been part of the ways in which the standpoint of gender has transformed not just work on this book, but also feminist analysis in general, I want to know how the context of the post-​traumatic slave experience in the United States or the post-​colonial reality of scholars with roots in Latin America, for example, provides a needed lens for wrestling with the book’s language and images. If Ezekiel has not been an important text in Black churches or in Latin@ communities, why is that so? Does the book contribute to systemic racism in the same ways it contributes to sexism? Does the violent deity of the book provide voice for the anger of communities whose lives continue to be shaped by systemic racism, marginalization, and minoritization? Frankly, I think that the guilds’ discomfort with a violent God stems with the dominant culture’s discomfort with anger in general, which becomes a tool for sustaining colonial power. As someone from a culture where vigorous debate is quite normal, I empathize with those whose anger over unjust treatment has been censored both explicitly and implicitly, even within the scholarly community. Second, I would like to see gender analyses of the book of Ezekiel move beyond feminist critique, which often reinforces models of binary gender and engage gender as both a more fluid and non-​binary category. Kamionkowski began this work (2003), but innovations in gender theory have not often been re-​applied to Ezekiel to build on her work. There has been some work done on Ezekiel and masculinity, but there is far more to be done. For example, the theme of shame in the book does not just reflect a binary trope of “women =​shame,” but the book can be read as a community’s attempt to carve out a colonized gender identity in which the categories of traditional masculine and feminine performance have ceased to function. One way this book communicates the impact that gender-​based violence had on the social memory of Jerusalem’s fall is through the hyperbolic character of Ezekiel’s gendered metaphors. Recent sociological work on the impact of gender-​based violence has demonstrated that sexual violence knows no gender preference, and that the effects, no matter what the gender of the survivor, spread out to all members of the community, especially intergenerationally within families (Carvalho, forthcoming ). Analyses of Ezekiel, especially 16 and 23, should support all of those who yearn to be seen and heard from variously gendered survivors to their families and communities. Third, affect theory and discussions of disgust, in particular, have much to contribute to appreciation of the book. The expansion of prophetic tropes to the point of disgust,

Ezekiel Scholarship in the Twenty-first Century    13 including not just the gendered metaphors of city-​deity, but more especially, the reality of attributing their experiences to the agency of a God angered by the disgusting, putrefying, and impure behavior of the people challenged, and continues to challenge readers of the book to examine their own nonchalant use of categories of concepts like divine retribution, divine perfection, and election. Fourth, and for me most importantly, I am tired of scholarship that fails to recognize this text as literary art and instead mines it for historical information. Perhaps this is because I come from a cultural background whose art tends toward the macabre. While Renz (1999) published a thorough discussion of rhetorical techniques employed in the book, there have not been further development of other aesthetic elements in the book. Renz defines rhetorical features as those elements that make a text “persuasive” (pp. 1–​26), so his work still stays within the confines of the historical assumptions of the book’s origin. The motivation for many Ezekiel scholars to keep the book wedded to an historical Ezekiel living in exile often masks theological and ideological agendae. It is not surprising to me that Ezekiel scholars, both Jewish and Christian, tend to be more conservative with their biblical theology: Ezekiel is placed in service of arguing for a monarchic Pentateuch, historical reliability of the Bible, and a counter-​reading of anti-​ Jewish readings of biblical legal material. But reading Ezekiel with such linear models is, to me, like using Rembrandt’s painting of Jeremiah as a photograph of the prophet. I would love to see scholars of Ezekiel take seriously the artistic character of the material, applying aesthetic analyses to the book. By this I do not just mean rigid models of metaphors or discussions of poetic genre; these are the “how” of art, but not the why. I mean entering into the book as an act of participating in a virtual reality that not only transforms what the text means, but also transforms the reader as an active participant in that engagement. Recently a colleague of mine from the English department asked me why I was so devoted to Ezekiel; I told her that reading the Deuteronomistic History is like going to the museum to see Renaissance paintings (in all their complexity), but reading Ezekiel is more like going to a museum of modern art, where one expects to be challenged, disgusted, offended, and unexpectedly delighted. For me, this model of engagement suits the text’s character better. It is, what I call, a hermeneutics of listening, a hermeneutics I think all of our guilds need to adopt more consistently not just in our engagements with the text, but also with each other. Only then will we recognize that biblical scholarship has never been a competitive sport, but a team-​building activity, as this brief review of scholarship has demonstrated. Scholars have often created Ezekiel in their own image. Models of a researcher copying other material, making careful emendations to earlier written texts, and working as a solitary individual are all projections of our guild on the character of Ezekiel. The reality was probably as messy as our own real lives outside our ivory white towers. In fact, the whole point of the book is the recognition of the universal messiness of humanity, including this supposed hegemonic prophet. The book of Ezekiel critiques us as much as it critiques its original audience, and as much as we want to either pacify the message or renounce it, reality creeps in again and again. Death is ugly. Humans fail. Communal tragedy is normal. And God exists in and through it all.

14   Corrine Carvalho

Acknowledgments I would like to thank the members of the Old Testament Colloquium for their very helpful comments and revisions. All remaining mistakes and infelicities remain my own.

Bibliography Aster, Shawn Zelig. “Ezekiel’s Adaptation of Mesopotamian Melammu.” Die Welt des Orients 45 (2015): 10–​21. Barton, John. Reading the Old Testament: Method in Biblical Study. Revised and Enlarged edition. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1996. Bodi, Daniel. The Book of Ezekiel and the Poem of Erra. Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 104. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1991. Bodi, Daniel. “The Double Current and the Tree of Healing in Ezekiel 47:1-​12 in Light of Babylonian Iconography Texts.” Die Welt des Orients 45 (2015): 22–​37. Bøe, Sverre. Gog and Magog: Ezekiel 38-​39 as Pre-​text for Revelation 19,17-​21 and 20,7-​ 10. Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2/​ 135. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001. Boer, Roland. “Spermatic Spluttering Pens: Concerning the Construction and Breakdown of Prophetic Masculinity.” In Prophets Male and Female: Gender and Prophecy in the Hebrew Bible, the Eastern Mediterranean, and the Ancient Near East, edited by Jonathan Stökl and Corrine L. Carvalho, 215–​36. Ancient Israel and Its Literature 15. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2013. Carvalho, Corrine. “A Serpent in the Nile: Egypt in the Book of Ezekiel.” In Concerning the Nations: Essays on the Oracles against the Nations in Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel, edited by Else K. Holt, Hyun Chul Paul Kim, and Andrew Mein, 195–​220. Library of the Hebrew Bible/​ Old Testament Studies 612. New York and Bloomsbury: T&T Clark, 2015. Carvalho, Corrine. “Silence of God’s Lambs: Male Rape in the Prophets and the Church.” In Doing Biblical Masculinity Studies as Feminist Biblical Studies? Critical Interrogations, edited by Susanne Scholz. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, forthcoming. Cook, Stephen L. Ezekiel 38-​48. Anchor Yale Bible 22b. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2018. Crouch, Carley. “Ezekiel’s Oracles against the Nations in Light of a Royal Ideology of Warfare.” Journal of Biblical Literature 130 (2011): 473–​492. Davis, Ellen F. Swallowing the Scroll: Textuality and the Dynamics of Discourse in Ezekiel’s Prophecy. Bible and Literature 13. Sheffield: Almond, 1989. Duguid, Ian M. Ezekiel and the Leaders of Israel. Vetus Testamentum Supplements 56. Leiden: Brill, 1994. Edelman, Diana, “From Prophets to Prophetic Books.” In The Production of Prophecy: Constructing Prophecy and Prophets in Yehud, edited by Ehud Ben Zvi and Diana Edelman, 29–​54. Bible World. London: Equinox, 2009. Galambush, Julie. Jerusalem in the Book of Ezekiel: The City as Yahweh’s Wife. Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series 130. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1992. Ganzel, Tova. Ezekiel’s Visionary Temple in Babylonian Context. Beihefte zur Zeitschift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 539. Berlin and Boston: de Gruyter, 2021. Gese, Hartmut. Der Verfassungsentwurf des Ezechiel (Kap. 40-​48): Traditionsgeschichtlich untersucht. Beiträge zur historische Theologie 25. Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1957.

Ezekiel Scholarship in the Twenty-first Century    15 Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 1-​20. Anchor Bible 22. Garden City: Doubleday, 1983. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 21-37. Anchor Bible 22a. Garden City: Doubleday, 1997. Greenberg, Moshe. “What Are Valid Criteria for Determining Inauthentic Matter in Ezekiel?” In Ezekiel and His Book: Textual and Literary Criticism and Their Interrelation, edited by Johan Lust, 123–​135. Bibliotheca Ephemeridem Theologicarum Lovaniensium 74. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1986. Guillaume, Phillipe. “The Chronological Limits of Reshaping Social Memory in the Presence of Written Sources: The Case of Ezekiel in Late Persian and Early Hellenistic Yehud.” In History, Memory and Hebrew Scriptures, edited by Ian D. Wilson and Diana Edelman, 187–​ 196. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2015. Haran, Menahem. “The Law Code of Ezekiel XL-​XLVIII and Its Relation to the Priestly School.” Hebrew Union College Annual 50 (1979): 45–​7 1. Halperin, David J. Seeking Ezekiel: Text and Psychology. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1993. Hulster, Izaak J., Brent A. Shawn, and Ryan P. Bonfiglio, eds. Iconographic Exegesis of the Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament: An Introduction to Its Method and Practice. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 2015. Joo, Samantha. “‘Off-​Centering’ in The Satanic Verses and the Book of Ezekiel: Postcolonial Response to Alienation.” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 39 (2014): 55–​78. Joyce, Paul M. Divine Initiative and Human Response in Ezekiel. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 51. Sheffield: JSOT, 1989. Joyce, Paul M. “Ezekiel.” In The Oxford Handbook of the Reception History of the Bible, edited by Michael Lieb, Emma Mason, Jonathan Roberts, and Christopher Rowland, Oxford Handbooks Online. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011. DOI: 10.1093/​ oxfordhb/​ 9780199204540.003.0006. Joyce, Paul M. and Andrew Mein, eds. After Ezekiel: Essays on the Reception of a Difficult Prophet. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 535. New York: Bloomsbury, 2014. Kaminsky, Joel S. Corporate Responsibility in the Old Testament. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 196. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1995. Kamionkowski, S. Tamar. Gender Reversal and Cosmic Chaos: A Study on the Book of Ezekiel. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 368. London: Sheffield Academic, 2003. Kemp, Joel B. Ezekiel, Law, and Judahite Identity: A Case for Identity in Ezekiel 1-​33. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 2/​123. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2020. Knohl, Israel. The Sanctuary of Silence: The Priestly Torah and the Holiness School. Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995. Kohn, Risa Levitt. A New Heart and a New Soul: Ezekiel, the Exile and the Torah. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 358. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 2002. Konkel, Michael. Architektonik des Heiligen: Studien zur sweiten Tempelvision Ezechiels (Ez 40-​ 48). Bonner biblische Beiträge 129. Berlin: Philo, 2001. Kutsko, John F. Between Heaven and Earth: Divine Presence and Absence in the Book of Ezekiel. Brown Judaic Studies 7. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2000. Lapsley, Jacqueline E. Can These Bones Live? The Problem of the Moral Self in the Book of Ezekiel. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 301. Berlin and New York: de Gruyter, 2000. Launderville, Dale. Spirit and Reason: The Embodied Character of Ezekiel’s Symbolic Thinking. Waco: Baylor University Press, 2007.

16   Corrine Carvalho Levenson, Jon D. Theology of the Program of Restoration of Ezekiel 40-​48. Harvard Semitic Monographs 10. Missoula: Scholars Press, 1976. Lilly, Ingrid E. Two Books of Ezekiel: Papyrus 967 and the Masoretic Text as Variant Literary Editions. Vetus Testamentum Supplement Series 150. Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2012. Lust, Johan. “Ezekiel 36-​40 in the Oldest Greek Manuscript.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 43 (1981): 517–​533. Lyons, Michael. From Law to Prophecy: Ezekiel’s Use of the Holiness Code. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 507. New York: T&T Clark, 2009. MacDonald, Nathan. Priestly Rule: Polemic and Biblical Interpretation in Ezekiel 44. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 476. Berlin/​Boston: de Gruyter, 2015. Mackie, Timothy P. Expanding Ezekiel: The Hermeneutics of Scribal Addition in the Ancient Text Witnesses of the Book of Ezekiel. Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments 257. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015. Marzouk, Safwat. Egypt as a Monster in the Book of Ezekiel. Forschungen zum alten Testament 2/​76. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015. Mein, Andrew. Ezekiel and the Ethics of Exile. Oxford Theological Monographs. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2001. Meyers, Carol L. “Was Ancient Israel a Patriarchal Society?” Journal of Biblical Literature 133 (2014): 8–​27. Nevader, Madhavi. “Picking Up the Pieces of the Little Prince: Refractions of Neo-​Babylonian Kingship Ideology in Ezekiel 40-​48?” In Exile and Return: The Babylonian Context, edited by Jonathan Stökl and Caroline Waerzeggers, 268–​291. Beihefte zur die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 478. Boston: de Gruyter, 2015a. Nevader, Madhavi. “Yhwh and the Kings of Middle Earth: Royal Polemic in Ezekiel’s Oracles against the Nations.” In Concerning the Nations: Essays on the Oracles against the Nations in Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel, edited by Else K. Holt, Hyun Chul Paul Kim, and Andrew Mein, 161–​178. Library of the Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 612. London: Bloomsbury, 2015b. Nihan, Christophe. “The nāśȋ’ and the Future of Royalty in Ezekiel.” In History, Memory and Hebrew Scriptures: A Festschrift for Ehud Ben Zvi, edited by Ian D. Wilson and Diana Edelman, 229–​246. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2015. Odell, Margaret S. Ezekiel. The Smyth & Helwys Bible Commentary. Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 2005. Odell, Margaret S. “Fragments of Traumatic Memory: Ṣalmê Zākār and Child Sacrifice in Ezekiel 16:15-​22.” In Bible through the Lens of Trauma, edited by Elizabeth Boase and Christopher Frechette, 107–​124. Semeia Studies 86. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature Press, 2016. Peterson, Brian Neil. John’s Use of Ezekiel: Understanding the Unique Perspective of the Fourth Gospel. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2015. Pikor, Wojciech. The Land of Israel in the Book of Ezekiel. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 667. New York: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2018. Pohlmann, Karl-​Friedrich. Ezechielstudien: Zur Redaktionsgeschichte des Buches und zur Frage nach den ältesten Texten. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestmentliche Wissenschaft 202. Berlin/​New York: de Gruyter, 1992. Poser, Ruth. Das Ezechielbuch als Trauma-​Literatur. Vetus Testamentum Supplement Series 154. Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2012.

Ezekiel Scholarship in the Twenty-first Century    17 Poser, Ruth. “No Words: The Book of Ezekiel as Trauma Literature and a Response to Exile.” In Bible through the Lens of Trauma, edited by Elizabeth Boase and Christopher Frechette, 27–​48. Semeia Studies 86. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature Press, 2016. Renz, Thomas. The Rhetorical Function of the Book of Ezekiel. Vetus Testmamentum 76. Leiden: Brill, 1999. Robson, James. Word and Spirit in Ezekiel. Library of the Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 447. New York and London: T&T Clark, 2006. Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit. Exclusive Inclusivity: Identity Conflicts between the Exiles and the People Who Remained (6th-​5th Centuries BCE). Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 543. New York: Bloomsbury, 2013. Rudnig, Thilo Alexander. Heilig und Profan: Redaktionskritische Studien zu Ez 40-​48. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestmentliche Wissenschaft 287. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2000. Shields, Mary E. “Multiple Exposures: Body Rhetoric and Gender Characterizations in Ezekiel 16.” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 14 (1998): 5–​18. Strine, C. A. Sworn Enemies: The Divine Oath, the Book of Ezekiel, and the Polimics of Exile. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestmentliche Wissenschaft 436. Berlin and Boston: Brill, 2013. Stökl, Jonathan. “A Youth Without Blemish, Handsome, Proficient in All Wisdom, Knowledgeable and Intelligent: Ezekiel’s Access to Babylonian Culture.” In Exile and Return: The Babylonian Context, edited by Jonathan Stökl and Caroline Waerzeggers, 223–​252. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestmentliche Wissenschaft 478. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2015. Stökl, Jonathan. “Schoolboy Ezekiel: Remarks on the Transmission of Learning.” Die Welt des Orients 47 (2017): 50–​61. Torrey, Charles C. Psuedo-​Ezekiel and the Original Prophecy. Yale Oriental Series 18. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1930. Tuell, Steven S. The Law of the Temple in Ezekiel 40-​48. Harvard Semitic Monographs 49. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1992. Tuell, Steven S. “The Priesthood of the ‘Foreigner’: Evidence of Competing Polities in Ezekiel 44:1-​14 and Isaiah 56:1-​8.” In Constituting the Community: Studies in the Polity of Ancient Israel in Honor of S. Dean McBride, Jr., edited by John T. Strong and Steven S. Tuell, 183–​204. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2005. Uehlinger, Christoph, and Susanne Müller Trufaut. “Ezekiel’s Babylonian Cosmological Scholarship and Iconography: Attempts at Further Refinement.” Theologische Zeitschrift 57 (2001): 140–​171. Weems, Renita J. Battered Love: Marriage, Sex and Violence in the Hebrew Prophets. Overtures to Biblical Theology. Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995. Wilson, Ian Douglas. “Tyre, A Ship: The Metaphorical World of Ezekiel 27 in Ancient Judah.” Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 125 (2013): 249–​262. Yee, Gale A. Poor Banished Children of Eve: Women as Evil in the Hebrew Bible. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezekiel 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 1-​24. Hermenia. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezekiel 2: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 25-​48. Hermenia. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983.

Chapter 2

Ezekiel i n I ts Historical C ont e xt Marvin A. Sweeney

1.  Introduction The chronological framework of the book of Ezekiel (1:1–​3 and 40:1) indicates that the book’s chronology was designed to encompass a total of twenty years, from the fifth through the twenty-​fifth year of the exile of King Jehoiakim of Judah in 592–​572 bce.1 A further chronological notation in 29:17 indicates that this initial chronology was updated to extend to the twenty-​seventh year of King Jehoiachin’s exile in 570 bce, to account for the submission of Tyre to the Babylonian Empire.2 The span of these years encompass a period that begins five years after the initial Babylonian deportation of Judean officials and other individuals—​in 592 bce, following Jehoiakim’s revolt against Babylon in 598 bce; the Babylonian destruction of Jerusalem in 587 bce; and the fifteen or seventeen years following that destruction in 587–​572 or 587–​570 bce. Prior research indicates that these years correspond to Ezekiel’s age of thirty at the outset of the period and fifty or fifty-​two at the close of this period. The original sequence therefore corresponds to the years that Ezekiel would have served as a priest in the Jerusalem temple, viz., from age thirty through age fifty.3 Although this chronology clearly encompasses the years immediately prior to and following the destruction of Jerusalem and its temple, the period required to understand the historical context of the Book of Ezekiel must be greatly expanded. Judah’s relations with Babylon began as early as the late eighth century bce, when Judah allied with Babylon in a bid to throw off Assyrian rule. And it continued well into the early Persian period in 539 bce and beyond, as Judean exiles returned to Jerusalem and Judah in an effort to rebuild the destroyed temple of Yhwh. Insofar as scholars date the book from the last years of the Judean monarchy through a period that ranges from the early years of the Babylonian Exile through the return of Jews to Jerusalem, this essay treats five major periods that comprise the book’s historical context: (1)

Ezekiel in Its Historical Context     19 Hezekiah’s alliance with Merodach Baladan of Babylon and his revolt against Assyria; (2) the reign of King Manasseh of Judah, who was dragged in chains to Babylon during its 652–​648 bce revolt against Assyria to witness the fate of those who defied Babylonian rule; (3) the reign of King Josiah of Judah, who died at Megiddo in 609 bce in a bid to assist his Babylonian allies; (4) the last years of Judah, with its successive revolts against Babylon by Jehoiakim in 598 bce, Zedekiah in 588 bce, and Ishmael in 582 bce; and (5) the Babylonian Exile from 597–​539 bce and the Persian-​ period restoration beginning in 539 bce.

2.  The Backdrop of the Assyrian Invasion In order fully to understand the circumstances that led to the Babylonian invasions of Judah and the Babylonian Exile of Judah during the sixth century bce, it is first necessary to examine the establishment of the alliance between Judah and Babylon during the reign of King Hezekiah ben Ahaz during the late eighth century bce.4 As we shall see, Judah’s initial relationship with Babylon arose in response to the threat posed by the Assyrian Empire, beginning with the Syro-​Ephraimitic War of 735–​732 bce. Judah’s king had long been a vassal of northern Israel’s ruler, beginning during the reigns of King Ahab ben Omri of Israel (871–​852 bce) and King Jehoshaphat ben Asa (870–​849 bce), in a bid to defend Israel and Judah against the attempts of the Aramean Empire to force them to rejoin its coalition—​who were resisting the Assyrian Empire’s attempts to subjugate western Asia. Following the death in battle of King Ahab and the wounding of his successor King Jehoram ben Ahab at Ramoth Gilead (1 Kings 10; 2 Kings 8), Israel’s efforts to defend itself were apparently failing. Jehu ben Nimshi, a military commander in the northern Israelite army assassinated not only the king but also his vassal, King Jehoram ben Jehoshaphat of Judah, as well as the Israelite Queen Mother, Jezebel bat Ittobaal of Tyre at Jezreel (1 Kings 9–​10). Nonetheless, Jehu’s attempts to defend Israel also failed, and he was compelled to submit to the Assyrian monarch, Shalmaneser III, which temporarily relieved Israel and its vassal-​state Judah from Assyrian pressure.5 In 735 bce, King Pekah ben Remaliah of Israel broke the alliance with Assyria and resumed Israel’s former alliance with Aram; the Assyrian monarch Tiglath-​pileser III invaded Aram, destroyed Damascus, and subjugated Israel in the Syro-​Ephraimitic War of 735–​732 bce (2 Kings 15–​16; Isaiah 7–​9). Although Israel had attempted to force its vassal-​state Judah to join the anti-​Assyrian coalition by force, King Ahaz ben Jotham of Judah had refused to follow the lead of his Israelite suzerain. Instead, he appealed to Assyria for assistance, which is what prompted Tiglath-​pileser III to move against Aram and Israel. Ahaz may have believed that he would be rewarded for his loyalty with a restoration of Davidic authority over northern Israel, but the Assyrians continued to

20   Marvin A. Sweeney treat him simply as a vassal—​and even increased the annual tribute owed to Assyria for having saved Judah from the Syro-​Ephraimitic coalition. Ahaz was never able to find the opportunity to escape from Assyrian subjugation, but his son, King Hezekiah ben Ahaz, continued to look for the chance to revolt from Assyrian rule. Hezekiah finally found that opportunity following the disastrous Assyrian defeat at Tabal (biblical Tubal) in south-​central Anatolia in 705 bce, in which King Sargon II was killed in battle; his body was never recovered. At that point, Hezekiah appears to have initiated an alliance with Prince Merodach Baladan of Babylon, who likewise ruled an Assyrian vassal-​state.6 The inauguration of the Judean-​Babylonian alliance is portrayed in Isaiah 39 and 2 Kgs 20:12–​19, in which the prophet Isaiah ben Amoz condemns Hezekiah for having received a Babylonian delegation in Jerusalem who viewed his preparations for revolt. The plan called for simultaneous revolts against Assyria—​along its western borders by Judah and its allies, and along its eastern borders by Babylon and its allies—​so as to divide Assyrian forces at a time of military weakness and monarchic instability, thus increasing the chances of success. The revolts began as planned. However, Sargon’s son and successor, Sennacherib, proved quite able to move quickly to restore the Assyrian army and launch a campaign to the west that would first attack Judah and its allies, before turning eastward to subdue the other rebels. Sennacherib’s quick success in forcing the submission of Tyre, an island nation on the Phoenician coast, stunned Hezekiah’s allies, who had viewed Tyre as impregnable to land-​based assault—​especially by the Assyrian army, which lacked expertise in naval warfare. But Sennacherib managed to compel the coastal population of Phoenicia to provide him with vessels and sailors to ensure the success of his assault. Once Tyre capitulated, most of Hezekiah’s allies rushed to the Assyrian monarch with tribute and renewed commitments of loyalty, leaving Hezekiah to face Sennacherib’s wrath alone. Sennacherib struck along the southwestern borders of Judah in the Shephelah, to fend off any columns of support that might arrive from Egypt. Sennacherib succeeded in destroying Judah’s western capital, Lachish, in a dramatic assault by means of a ramp built up against the city wall by Judean captives, whom the city’s defenders could not bring themselves to kill. Some fifteen hundred bodies of Lachish’s defenders were then buried outside its ruins in a large pit and covered with pig bones—​to ensure their humiliation in the underworld, and to undermine the morale of the Judean population.7 Assyrian forces ranged throughout Judah ravaging the countryside and forcing Judean refugees to flee for the presumed safety of the walls of Jerusalem, which Hezekiah had expanded prior to the revolt. Sennacherib’s forces besieged Jerusalem and demanded its unconditional surrender in a dramatic confrontation portrayed in Isaiah 36–​37 and 2 Kings 18–​20, yet the Assyrians were unable to take Jerusalem and depose or kill Hezekiah as planned. While Sennacherib justifiably claimed a great victory in his own accounts of the campaign, he was compelled to withdraw his army from Judah to march against Babylonia so as to put down the eastern revolt.8

Ezekiel in Its Historical Context     21 Hezekiah was left on the throne of Jerusalem, although he was compelled to pay a huge tribute and rule over a kingdom that had been virtually destroyed by the Assyrian invasion, which leveled every city and town in Judah, leaving the country devastated for sixty years or more. Sennacherib claims to have taken Hezekiah’s sons and daughters into captivity; the birth of Hezekiah’s son and ultimate successor, Manasseh, only late in the king’s life indicates that this claim was true. Sennacherib also devastated Babylonia in 689 bce, but he was never able to capture its king, who apparently took refuge in the delta marshes in southeastern Babylonia, where the Tigris and Euphrates flow into the Persian Gulf. Scholars presume that Merodach Baladan died while in hiding.9 In short, both Judah and Babylon were subdued. Yet resentment against the Assyrian Empire would smolder for decades.

3.  The Rise of Babylonia In the aftermath of the Assyrian defeat of Judah in 701 bce, Judah’s alliance with Babylon appears to have gone dormant, obviously due to Judah’s inability to field any serious opposition to the Assyrians. During the seventh century bce, Assyria consolidated its position in Judah by establishing the city of Ekron as a major center for the production and export of olive oil, one of the staples of the ancient Near Eastern diet.10 Although the Assyrians enlisted many Israelites in the production of olive oil at Ekron, the bulk of the Judean population had been decimated by the Assyrian invasion, and many of the survivors moved farther up the Shephelah into the upper hill country of Judah, and into the Negeb wilderness region in the southern portions of Judah.11 Assyria proceeded to expand its empire. Following the assassination of Sennacherib in 681 bce, his youngest son, Esarhaddon, claimed the throne.12 Initially, Esarhaddon busied himself with dispatching local enemies, including among his own family, prior to launching a campaign in Egypt against Pharaoh Taharqa of the twenty-​fifth Ethiopian dynasty. Although his first campaign against Taharqa’s forces failed, Esarhaddon succeeded in defeating him in 671 bce. The Assyrian king then set up Pharaoh Necho I (672–​664 bce) of the twenty-​sixth Egyptian Saite dynasty, in the city of Sais in the Nile delta region. Necho and his successors, Psamtek 1 (664–​609 bce) and Necho II (609–​ 595 bce), proved to be loyal and strong vassals of the Assyrian Empire. Meanwhile, in the eastern part of its empire, Assyria’s hold on Babylonia employed a model of governance that would prove to be its undoing. Normally, the Assyrian king would have ruled also as king of Babylon. However, upon Esarhaddon’s death in 669 bce, his son Assurbanipal assumed the throne in Assyria, while another son, Shamash-​ shum-​ukin, became king in Babylon.13 The arrangement was intended to distribute political responsibilities among the Assyrian royal family, but it proved to be a source of tension—​for Shamash-​shum-​ukin was Esarhaddon’s second son, whereas Assurbanipal

22   Marvin A. Sweeney was the third son. This departure from normal birth-​order priority came about because Esarhaddon’s first son, Sin-​iddinia-​apla, the crown prince of Assyria, had died unexpectedly. Assurbanipal was named to replace him, apparently due to the influence of his grandmother Naqi’a-​Zakutu, the widow of Sennacherib—​despite recorded warnings that such a move could provoke trouble. Indeed, Shamash-​shum-​ukin harbored great resentment against his younger brother; in 652 bce, he revolted against him, in a bid to gain control of both thrones. Although Assurbanipal had been perceived as weak, he proved to be more than capable as a military commander. He devastated Babylonia during a lengthy and bloody campaign, which ended in 648 bce with the death of Shamash-​shum-​ukin and the capitulation of Babylon. During this period, King Manasseh ben Hezekiah ruled Judah (697–​642 bce). Presumably the alliance during his father’s reign between Judah and Babylon against Assyria had not been forgotten; Manasseh might well have been tempted to join Shamash-​shum-​ukin’s revolt. True, the account of Manasseh’s reign in 2 Kgs 21:1–​18 contains no hint of his potential loyalties toward the Babylonian throne, and instead focuses on the evil character of his reign that prompted Yhwh to decide that Jerusalem and Judah should be destroyed as punishment for his sins. Despite the clearly theological character of the account of his reign in Kings, most twentieth-​century biblical scholars viewed Kings to be a relatively reliable historical source, largely because of the priestly orientation of Chronicles, given the distrust of priestly sources that was characteristic of Protestant-​oriented critical scholarship at the time. The account of Manasseh’s reign in 2 Chr 33:1–​20 presents a very plausible account of his reign, when considered in relation to the Babylonian revolt of 552–​548 BCE.14 The Chronicler begins with a recitation of Manasseh’s sins that is drawn from the Kings account. But instead of claiming that Manasseh’s sins qualified him as an evil monarch who was responsible for the destruction of Jerusalem and Judah, Chronicles includes a very different account of his later reign, in which he was taken in chains to Babylon by the king of Assyria. After returning to Jerusalem, Chronicles maintains that Manasseh repented and became a righteous monarch who built cities in the Negeb. Many scholars view this account as an untrustworthy account due to suspicions about the Chronicler’s priestly character. There is a theological issue here insofar as the Chronicler challenges the theology of sin presented in Kings, which tends to blame disaster in Israelite history on the sins of past monarchs (such as Jeroboam ben Nebat, who earlier was held responsible for the destruction of northern Israel, due to his instigation of the worship of the golden calves in 1 Kings 12). Chronicles instead holds that a national disaster is caused by the sins of the generation that suffers most directly. Thus in the subsequent case of King Josiah, he will die early at Megiddo not because of the sins of his grandfather Manasseh (so 2 Kings 22–​23), but rather because he acts against the will of Yhwh (2 Chronicles 34–​35). Likewise, Jerusalem will be destroyed not due to the prior sins of Manasseh (recounted in 2 Chronicles 36), but due to the city’s contemporaneous pollution by its officers, priests, and people (2 Chr 36:14–​21). The accounts of Manasseh’s reign in both Kings and Chronicles are theologically informed, but the one with the greater claim to historical reliability is Chronicles. During

Ezekiel in Its Historical Context     23 Shamash-​shum-​ukin’s revolt, Manasseh surely would have been viewed as a potential Babylonian sympathizer, due to his father’s earlier alliance with Babylon against Sennacherib. Assurbanipal thus had good reason to ensure that Manasseh would not join the new revolt. Taking Manasseh in chains to witness Babylonia’s devastation and the defeat of Shamash-​shum-​ukin would have been an effective way to ensure that Judah’s king would not entertain any disloyal ideas. Notably, while Manasseh is distrusted in both Kings and Chronicles, his reign was said to have been the longest of any Davidic monarch: fifty-​five years. Furthermore, he kept his nation from being invaded and devastated, as it had been during the reigns of his grandfather and father. Refusing to join this second Babylonian revolt evidently assured Judah’s security. Interpreters must also consider the assassination of his son, Amon ben Manasseh, who ruled Judah for only two years (642–​640 BCE). Although the account of his reign in 2 Kgs 21:19–​26 charges that his assassination was due to his worship of idols, a more likely explanation is that it was part of an early attempt from within the royal house to revolt against Assyria, which was weakened by the Babylonian revolt. But the people of the land, the population of the Judean countryside, put down the revolt and placed Amon’s eight-​year-​old son, Josiah, on the throne instead. The people of the land were the class that suffered the most from Hezekiah’s failed revolt, and they were in no position to endure a second revolt even some sixty years later.15 The Babylonian alliance would have to wait, especially since Shamash-​shum-​ukin was the grandson of Sennacherib and not himself a Babylonian.

4.  The Reign of Josiah As noted, King Josiah ben Amon of Judah (640–​609 bce) came to the throne at the age of eight as a result of a failed coup d’état against his father, Amon ben Manasseh, that had likely been intended to prevent revolt against the Assyrian empire.16 Ironically, by the time that Josiah reached the age of twenty (generally regarded as the age of majority in ancient Judah) in 628 bce, the political situation had changed markedly. The Assyrian Empire had plunged into steep decline; King Assurbanipal died in either 631 or 627 bce; and the Neo-​Babylonian dynasty of Nebopolassar began its rise to power, ca. 628 or 627 bce.17 Most interpreters privilege the Kings account of Josiah’s reign in 2 Kgs 22:1–​23:30, which states that Josiah began his temple renovation in the eighteenth year of his reign (622 bce), as the more reliable account. Yet interpreters must note that the Chronicler states in 2 Chr 34:3 that Josiah began to seek Yhwh in the eighth year of his reign (632 bce), the likely time of Assurbanipal’s death, and that he began to purge Jerusalem and Judah of foreign shrines in the twelfth year of his reign (622 bce), during Nebopolassar’s ascendancy. The time for revolt against Assyria was ripe, and the time to renew the alliance with Babylon was at hand to make it possible. Indeed, Josiah died in 609 bce while acting

24   Marvin A. Sweeney as a Babylonian ally; he tried to stop the Egyptian army at Megiddo from coming to the aid of the remnants of the Assyrian army as it prepared to face the Babylonians at Haran. We may also note that Ezekiel had his first vision of Yhwh in the fifth year of the exile of King Jehoiachin ben Jehoiakim of Judah (592 bce) at the age of thirty. That would place Ezekiel’s birth in 622 bce, which is when the Chronicler states that Josiah began to purge the foreign shrines. Ezekiel would have grown to maturity during the implementation of Josiah’s program of religious reform and national restoration, and during the aftermath of his reign, which saw the subjugation of Judah by Babylonia. Indeed, Ezekiel’s vision of divine purpose constitutes an idealized version of Josiah’s reform—​ which would ultimately result in a restored temple to Yhwh and a restored nation of Israel, as indicated in his final vision in Ezekiel 40–​48. We may further note that Ezekiel includes no oracle against Babylon among the oracles concerning the nations in Ezekiel 25–​32, that Yhwh first appears to Ezekiel in Babylonia (Ezekiel 1–​3), and that Ezekiel identifies Babylonia with divine purpose throughout the book. Many interpreters are inclined to view Josiah’s reforms as a religious matter alone, largely by analogy to the Protestant Reformation of the sixteenth century ce and beyond. But just as the Protestant Reform also had its political and socio-​economic dimensions, so does Josiah’s reform. Judging from the description of Josiah’s reforms, they are based on some form of the book of Deuteronomy, to be identified with the Book of Torah discovered in the Jerusalem temple during its renovations. Josiah’s reforms call for a singular focus on Yhwh as the sole deity of Judah and Israel; the rejection of foreign gods and their installations; the rejection of oracle diviners and magicians of various sorts; the recognition of only one site in the land as “the place where Yhwh’s name would dwell,” i.e., the one legitimate site for the worship of Yhwh; and the requirements that the king eschew elements of personal wealth and power, and that he keep a copy of Yhwh’s Torah with him so that he may study it daily under the supervision of the Levitical priests. All of these dimensions appear both in the account of Josiah’s reign in 2 Kings 22–​23 and in the book of Deuteronomy. At the same time, most of these dimensions have political and socio-​economic implications. Recognition of Yhwh as the nation’s sole deity must be viewed in light of national identity in the ancient world. When one ruler becomes a vassal to another, he pays tribute to his suzerain and swears—​before his own gods and the suzerain’s gods—​that he will continue to do so or suffer consequences. (Although suzerains did not typically demand the outright worship of their gods, express submission to them was part of the treaty negotiations. In contrast, parity treaties require no such submission, and so would not impair recognition of Yhwh as the sole deity of Judah and Israel.) Furthermore, Deuteronomy is formulated as a series of speeches in which Moses presents Yhwh’s covenant in terms analogous to those of ancient Near Eastern suzerain–​ vassal treaties; but in this case, Yhwh is the suzerain who states the requirements, while Judah/​Israel is the vassal who must abide by them. Insofar as Judah was a vassal-​state of Assyria at the outset of Josiah’s reign, Deuteronomy would have constituted a formal declaration of independence, in which Judah will henceforth serve Yhwh alone—​and

Ezekiel in Its Historical Context     25 no other foreign god or power. Such a declaration entails rejection of the oracle diviners and magicians who would represent foreign gods as well as their shrines.18 The requirement for only one temple site for the worship of Yhwh also has its political and socio-​economic dimensions. Temples represent the holy site where a state’s god is recognized. Judah was a small state that required only one centralized temple. (In contrast, Israel had at least two temples—​at Bethel and Dan—​mostly due to its larger size.) Furthermore, temples are where the populace bring their offerings; in ancient Judah and Israel, such offerings entail ten percent of one’s agricultural produce, animals born to the herds and flocks, and other assets, all of which are to be presented at the temple on the harvest holidays. These offerings constitute an income tax, and they likewise constitute state revenue. Centralizing worship gives the monarchy greater control over its revenue base—​and therefore greater control over its subjects. Examination of the laws of Deuteronomy demonstrates that many laws have been revised or reconceptualized when compared to the early laws of the Covenant Code in Exodus 20–​24, which originally served as a northern Israelite law code.19 The basis for revision of the laws in Deuteronomy is to give greater rights and protection to the poor, widows and orphans, and the Levites—​the very classes that would have constituted “the people of the land” who put King Josiah on the throne. An example is the law of debt slavery (Exod 21:2–​11 and Deut 15:1–​18). According to Exodus, an Israelite man may serve as a slave for six years to pay a debt. At the end of his term, he may be set free or he may choose to remain a slave forever. If he is set free, he receives no compensation. Women and the children born to them remain slaves, as they are married to men in the creditor’s household or considered as property of the household. Such an arrangement makes it likely that a man will choose to remain a slave rather than give up his wife and children. In contrast, Deuteronomy revises the law to require that a man be compensated for his period of service and that women likewise go free after six years, thereby making it easier for the slave to return to freedom and their own family. Insofar as the people of the land put Josiah in power, Josiah’s law code in Deuteronomy gave them greater rights and protection under the law. Political implications also follow from the requirement in Deut 17:14–​20 that the king not amass power to himself in the form of gold, women, horses, etc., that he not take the people across the Red Sea to Egypt, and that he study Yhwh’s Torah daily under the supervision of the levitical priests. Such a presentation of the king actually gives him greater power to act—​because he is presumed to be pious, altruistic, and obedient to Yhwh rather than as serving his own interests. Furthermore, the law forbids him from allying with Egypt (as Solomon had done) and thereby placing the nation under foreign control. Finally, we return to Josiah’s death in 609 bce at the age of thirty-​nine. Pharaoh Necho II of Egypt was an ally of the Assyrian Empire—​indeed, the Assyrians had put Necho’s grandfather, Necho I, on the throne and guaranteed his safety—​and he was marching his army north to support the Assyrians in their last stand at Haran. Although an Assyrian subject, Josiah marched his army to Megiddo in a bid to stop the Egyptians and thereby to ensure Assyria’s defeat at the hands of the Babylonians. Megiddo guards

26   Marvin A. Sweeney the western entrance to the Jezreel Valley, which constitutes the primary land route by which one would march an army from Egypt through the land of Israel and on to Aram, where Haran is situated. In essence, Josiah was acting as an ally of Babylon—​as his great-​ grandfather Hezekiah had done. According to 2 Kgs 23:28–​30, Necho put Josiah to death, but according to 2 Chr 35:20–​27, there was a battle at Megiddo in which Josiah was killed. Chronicles constitutes the more historically plausible scenario. But regardless of the account that one follows, we are implicitly told that Josiah died as a result of his attempt to support his ally, Babylon, and thereby free his own nation from Assyrian domination. In sum, it appears that Josiah renewed the alliance between Judah and Babylon initiated by his great-​grandfather to oppose the Assyrian Empire. In contrast with Hezekiah, who retained both his throne and his life, Josiah died as a result of his attempt to support Judah’s old ally. Ezekiel, having been born at the outset of Josiah’s reforms, would have grown up in the context of all of Josiah’s reforms, including his renewed relationship with Babylon.

5.  The Final Years of Judah In the aftermath of Josiah’s death, Judah’s relationship with Babylon changed markedly for the worse, setting the stage for Babylon’s destruction of Jerusalem and its exile of much of Judah’s populace. Following Josiah’s death, Pharaoh Necho II did not linger in the land of Israel, as he had to move his army rapidly toward Haran in order to support his Assyrian allies there. Yet Josiah’s intervention apparently delayed him long enough so that he arrived too late to take part in the action. Babylon defeated Assyria at Haran in 609 bce. Nebopolassar and his son Nebuchadrezzar were even able to incorporate surviving elements of the Assyrian army into their own forces. Assyria was finished, and Necho could only face off against the Babylonians in a stalemate. During Necho’s absence from the land of Israel, 2 Kgs 23:31–​35 states that the people of the land in Judah took matters into their own hands and placed Josiah’s second son, Jehoahaz, on the throne. This move bypassed his first son, Jehoiakim. Its political significance is evident in the identity of their mothers. Jehoiakim’s mother was Zebudah bat Pedaiah of Rumah, a city located in the northern part of Israel—​which indicated Josiah’s interests in extending his rule over northern Israel and defending the land from invasion from the north, i.e., from Assyria or Babylonia. Such a position suggested pro-​ Egyptian leanings by Jehoiakim and his family. This stands in contrast to the younger son, Jehoahaz, born to Josiah’s wife, Hamutal bat Jeremiah of Libnah, located in southwestern Judah. Hamutal’s family was strategically placed to defend Judah from the southwest, which means that the family would be placed to defend Judah from invasion by Egypt. Jehoahaz would therefore be anti-​Egyptian and pro-​Babylonian. His appointment to the throne under the influence of the people of the land indicated an interest in alliance with Babylon and opposition to Egypt.

Ezekiel in Its Historical Context     27 When Necho returned to the land of Israel some three months later, having consolidated his lines of defense against Babylonia, he immediately deposed the anti-​Egyptian Jehoahaz and exiled him to Egypt—​where he disappears from the biblical record. Necho appointed the pro-​Egyptian Jehoiakim to the throne, and King Jehoiakim never forgot that he ruled at the behest of his Egyptian allies (2 Kgs 24:1–​7). Consequently, Jehoiakim always acted in concert with Egyptian interests and against those of Babylon. Judean foreign policy shifted: Judah became a loyal Egyptian ally with a hostile view of Babylon. Nevertheless, a pro-​Babylonian party persisted in Judah, led by the Shaphan family. They descended from Josiah’s officer Shaphan, who had overseen the renovation of the Jerusalem temple and the discovery of the Book of Torah (Deuteronomy) that had provided the theological, political, and economic bases for Josiah’s reform.20 Supporters of a pro-​Babylonian stance included not only Shaphan’s descendants, who occupied important positions of power in the Judean government, but also the Neriah family, which included Jeremiah’s scribe Baruch ben Neriah, as well as the priest and prophet Jeremiah himself. Shaphan’s descendants included Ahikam ben Shaphan, who saved Jeremiah from being executed for sedition after his pro-​Babylonian sermon at the temple (Jeremiah 26); Gemariah ben Shaphan, a scribe who attempted unsuccessfully to vet Jeremiah’s words with King Jehoiakim (Jeremiah 36); Elasah ben Shaphan, who carried Jeremiah’s letter to the Babylonian exiles (Jeremiah 29); and Gedaliah ben Ahikam ben Shaphan, who was appointed as governor of Judah by the Babylonians following the fall of Jerusalem (Jeremiah 40). As noted, King Jehoiakim proved to be a loyal ally of Necho II of Egypt. But when Babylonian forces under Nebuchadrezzar defeated the Egyptian coalition at Carchemish in Aram, the political situation changed markedly.21 The Egyptians withdrew from western Asia, leaving Jerusalem and Judah open to Babylonian rule. Nebopolassar died soon afterward and Nebuchadrezzar became king of Babylon. Although the exact reasons are unclear, Babylon treated Judah as a vassal-​state rather than as a trusted ally that had already supported it for a century. Perhaps Jehoiakim continued to demonstrate loyalty to Egypt, or perhaps he failed to persuade Nebuchadnezzar of his loyalty. Perhaps a pretentious Nebuchadnezzar intended to assert his mastery over Judah no matter what the past relationship had been. In any case, it is clear that the Neo-​Babylonian Empire was never as adept as Assyria in ruling over its subject nations and keeping them under control. We will likely never know the exact circumstances of the changes in the relationship between Judah and Babylon, but it is clear that Jehoiakim and Judah chafed under Nebuchadnezzar’s rule. For example, the Judean prophet Habakkuk registers his shock and surprise that Yhwh had brought an oppressor like the Neo-​Babylonian Empire to rule over Jerusalem and Judah (Hab 1:2–​6). As a result of Babylonia’s poor treatment of Judah, sentiment in Judah began to build for revolt. By 598 bce, the time had come. Second Kgs 24:1–​7 simply notes that Jehoiakim rebelled against Babylonia after three years of submission, before tersely recording his death. The biblical account gives no explanation of the circumstances of Jehoiakim’s

28   Marvin A. Sweeney death. It may be that he was assassinated, died of shock or suicide after realizing that the failure of the Egyptians to come to his aid would mean his demise, or perhaps he even died of natural causes. In any case, 2 Kgs 24:8–​17 states that Jehoiakim’s eighteen-​year-​ old son Jehoiachin came to the throne, whereupon Nebuchadnezzar launched an assault against Jerusalem and Judah to put down the revolt. Jehoiachin quickly capitulated before Nebuchadnezzar’s army, apparently since no one, not even his father’s erstwhile Egyptian allies, came to his aide. Nebuchadnezzar took harsh measures to demonstrate to Judah what it meant to rebel against the empire. He did not devastate the land as the Assyrians had done; rather, he took away its king to Babylon, while deporting some seven thousand Jerusalemites and Judeans to Babylonia. Deportees included much of the royal household, government officials, military commanders, skilled persons, soldiers, etc. Indeed, archeologists have uncovered records of the food and goods delivered to support the royal household in exile.22 The two purposes of such deportation were to deny the expertise and leadership of these persons to Judah in order to undermine any future attempt at revolt, and to put them to use as servants of the empire to enhance its own expertise and capabilities. Ezekiel ben Buzi the priest was among those deported. As Margaret Odell’s commentary on the book of Ezekiel shows, he was heavily influenced by Assyrian iconography, concepts, and practices while in exile, which would have resulted from his displacement from Jerusalem to Tel Abib (Tel Aviv) in Babylonia.23 Following Jehoiachin’s deportation, Nebuchadnezzar appointed Jehoiachin’s uncle and Jehoahaz’s brother, Mattaniah ben Josiah, as king of Judah under the throne name Zedekiah (2 Kgs 24:18–​20; 25:1–​24). As with Jehoahaz, Zedekiah’s mother was Hamutal of Libnah, who came from a family that would secure Judah’s southwestern borders from Egyptian intervention. Zedekiah’s role was clearly to be that of a puppet king. As the third son of Josiah, there would have been no expectations that he would ever become king—​a reality that explains his incompetence in ruling Judah, as witnessed by his attempts to seek counsel from Jeremiah even after his arrest (see Jeremiah 39). Because Zedekiah was unable to keep Judah under control on behalf of his Babylonian masters, sentiment built for another revolt against the Babylonians, perhaps with instigation from the Egyptians. In 588 bce, that revolt broke out, apparently against the advice and efforts of the pro-​ Babylonian party (2 Kgs 25:25–​26; Jeremiah 40–​44).24 Jerusalem was supported by allies as well, which would suggest that Egypt’s hand was ultimately behind the revolt effort, but the Egyptians failed effectively to support their allies. Nebuchadrezzar ruthlessly subdued Judah and Jerusalem, ravaging the countryside and laying siege to the capital city. By 587 bce, he breached Jerusalem’s city walls, likely due to sapper work at which the Babylonians excelled, and took the city and its temple after a bloody battle. Zedekiah attempted to flee by chariot upon escaping through a sally port on the south side of Jerusalem’s fortifications. He was picked up by the Babylonian military around Jericho, brought before Nebuchadrezzar in Riblah, and forced to watch as his own sons were killed before his eyes. Then he was blinded and sent off into Babylonian exile, disappearing from the biblical record.

Ezekiel in Its Historical Context     29 Nebuchadrezzar ordered not only the destruction of the temple as well as the city of Jerusalem, but also the deportation of many more surviving Jerusalemites and Judeans. As noted, Gedaliah ben Ahikam ben Shaphan was appointed by the Babylonians as governor of Jerusalem and Judah. He governed from the city Mizpah in the territory of Benjamin. Even the destruction of Jerusalem and Judah did not put an end to sentiments for a revolt. By 582 bce, Ishmael ben Nethaniah ben Elishama, who was of royal descent, assassinated Gedaliah in a bid to foment a third revolt against Babylon (2 Kgs 25:25–​26; Jeremiah 41–​44). Although this revolt was quickly put down by Judean supporters of Gedaliah, the fear of Babylonian reprisal prompted many to flee to Egypt. Jeremiah 40–​ 44 indicates that the refugees took Jeremiah with them, over his objections. No further attempts at revolt are recorded.

6.  The Babylonian Exile The book of Ezekiel presents a chronology for Ezekiel’s visions that extends first to the twenty-​fifth year of Jehoiachin’s exile (40:1), i.e., 572 bce, and on into the twenty-​seventh year of his exile (29:17), i.e., 570 bce. The reference in 29:17 is typically viewed as an editorial modification, perhaps even by the prophet himself, that accounts for the failure of Babylon to subdue Tyre for some thirteen years following an initial siege in 585 bce. Although we know something of Babylonian history in general during the Babylonian Exile, our knowledge of the experience of Jewish exiles in Babylonia is limited. As noted, we have cuneiform documents that specify supplies for the support of King Jehoiachin’s exile.25 Exiled Judeans were apparently free to engage in commerce, as indicated by Hebrew names for individuals in the cuneiform archives of the Murashu trading house and other such business records.26 It is also likely that Judean exiles were employed as scribes and in other roles in the Babylonian government, and that Judean soldiers served in the army. A number of Babylonian cities located along the Chebar canal near Nippur are mentioned in Ezekiel and Nehemiah as sites where Jewish exiles were settled, including Tel Abib in Ezek 3:15 and Tel-​melah, Tel-​harsha, Cherub, Addon, and Immer in Neh 7:61.27 Insofar as priests and Levites would eventually return to Jerusalem from these cities, it appears that—​with some exceptions mentioned in Neh 7:61–​65—​they were able to maintain their identities. It is not clear what they did while in Babylonia. Ezekiel 8–​11 suggests that people came to the prophet’s house in order to consult him. Odell notes throughout her commentary that Ezekiel frequently employs Assyrian imagery and concepts; this indicates some attempt to portray Yhwh, the future temple, the altar, and other features of Judean life and religion in terms akin to those of Assyrian or Babylonian religion and culture. The future temple in Ezekiel 40–​48 does not correspond to the Second Temple as actually constructed, which suggests that it was not based on any real experience or perception of that temple. Some scholars have noted that the size and portrayal of the future temple suggests that Ezekiel identified it with Entemenanki, the temple dedicated to Marduk in Babylon. However, the depiction

30   Marvin A. Sweeney of the purification of the Dead Sea in Ezekiel 47 would suggest that Ezekiel additionally incorporates some Babylonian imagery in his vision of the temple, whether it is construed as an idealized Jerusalem or heavenly one. Many scholars presuppose that the compositional history of Ezekiel extends into the early Persian period. Yet clear and direct evidence of a Persian-​period setting for the book’s composition is lacking; rather, it appears to have been completed during the Babylonian Exile. To a large extent, the book identifies Yhwh’s purposes with Babylonia. As noted, it contains no oracles against Babylon. Yhwh is portrayed riding through the heavens in a throne chariot—​much like the Assyrian god Assur and other Mesopotamian deities. According to the book of Ezekiel, Babylon will serve divine purposes until such time as the restoration can take place.

Notes 1. See Marvin A. Sweeney, Reading Ezekiel: A Literary and Theological Commentary (ROT; Macon, GA: Smyth and Helwys, 2013); Tyler Mayfield, Literary Structure and Setting in Ezekiel (FAT 2/​43; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012). 2. See Moshe Greenberg, Ezekiel 21–​37 (AB 22A; New York: Doubleday, 1997), 616–​618; Paul Joyce, Ezekiel: A Commentary (LHBOTS 482; New York: T&T Clark, 2007), 182; Steven Tuell, Ezekiel (NIBC; Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2009), 206; Sweeney, Reading Ezekiel, 147. 3. Marvin A. Sweeney, “Ezekiel: Zadokite Priest and Visionary Prophet of the Exile,” Form and Intertextuality in Prophetic and Apocalyptic Literature (FAT 45; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 125–​143. 4. For an overview of the Assyrian empire during the late eighth century bce, see the five essays by John Brinkman and A. K. Grayson in The Cambridge Ancient History III: Part 2, The Assyrian and Babylonian Empires and Other States of the Near East from the Eighth to the Sixth Centuries B.C., ed. John Boardman (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 1–​141. For full discussion concerning the historical background of the eighth century bce as presented in the books of Kings and Isaiah, see Marvin A. Sweeney, 1 and 2 Kings: A Commentary (OTL; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2007); idem, Isaiah 1–​39, with an Introduction to Prophetic Literature (FOTL 16; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1996). 5. The Black Obelisk of Shalmaneser III depicts King Jehu of Israel bowing at his feet in submission. See James B. Pritchard, The Ancient Near East in Pictures (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969), 351, 355. 6. For full discussion concerning Merodach Baladan of Babylon, see J. A. Brinkman, “Merodach Baladan II,” in Studies Presented to A. Leo Oppenheim, ed. R. M. Adams (Chicago: The University of Chicago, 1964), 6–​53. 7. David Ussishkin, “Lachish,” in The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, ed. Ephraim Stern (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society), 3:897–​911 esp. 905–​909. 8. For Sennacherib’s account of the war against Judah and the siege of Jerusalem, see James B. Pritchard, Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969), 287–​288. 9. In 681 bce, Sennacherib was assassinated by his own sons in the temple of the Assyrian god Nisroch. The assassins were put to death by Sennacherib’s younger son, Esarhaddon, who ascended to the throne of Assyria following the death of his father.

Ezekiel in Its Historical Context     31 10. On Ekron (more recently known as Tel Miqne), see Trude Dotan and Seymour Gitin, “Tel Miqne (Ekron),” in Stern, Archaeological Excavations, 3:1051–​1059. 11. Israel Finkelstein, “The Archaeology of the Days of Manasseh,” Scripture and Other Artifacts (ed., M. D. Coogan et al; Fest P. J. King; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1994) 169–​187. 12. On the reign of Esarhaddon, see Grayson, “Assyria: Sennacherib and Esarhaddon (704–​699 bc),” 122–​141. 13. On the reign of Assurbanipal, see Grayson,” Assyria: 668–​ 635 BC: The Reign of Ashurbanipal,” 142–​161. 14. On 2 Chr 33:1–​20, see Sara Japhet, I and II Chronicles: A Commentary (OTL; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1993), 999–​1013; Steven L. McKenzie, 1–​2 Chronicles (AOTC; Nashville: Abingdon, 2004), 352–​358. 15. On the impact of the Assyrian invasions on the populace of Judah, see Baruch Halpern, “Jerusalem and the Lineages of the Seventh Century bce: Kinship and the Rise of Individual Moral Liability,” in Law and Ideology in Monarchic Israel, ed. B. Halpern and D. W. Hobson (JSOTSup 124; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1991), 11–​107. 16. On Josiah, see Marvin A. Sweeney, King Josiah of Judah: The Lost Messiah of Israel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001). 17. On the fall of Assyria and the rise of the Neo-​Babylonian Empire, see Joan Oates, “The fall of Assyria (635–​609 B.C.).” in Boardman, Cambridge Ancient History, 162–​193. 18. On Deuteronomy, see Sweeney, Josiah, 137–​169; idem, “Deuteronomy and the Reigns of Kings Hezekiah and Josiah of Judah,” in The Oxford Handbook for Deuteronomy, ed. D. C. Benjamin (Oxford: Oxford University Press, forthcoming); Moshe Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1–​11 (AB 5; New York: Doubleday, 1991), 4–​6. 19. See Bernard Levinson, Deuteronomy and the Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997). 20. Jay Wilcoxen, “The Political Background of Jeremiah’s Temple Sermon,” in Scripture in History and Theology, ed. A. L. Merrill and T. W. Overholt (Fest J. C. Rylaarsdam; Pittsburgh: Pickwick, 1977), 151–​166. 21. On the Babylonian victory over Egypt and its aftermath, see D. J. Wiseman, in Boardman, Cambridge Ancient History, 229–​243. 22. Pritchard, Ancient Near Eastern Texts, 308. 23. Margaret S. Odell, Ezekiel (SHBC; Macon, GA: Smyth and Helwys, 2005). 24. On Jeremiah 40–​44, see esp. Shelley L. Birdsong, The Last King(s) of Judah: Zedekiah and Sedekias in the Hebrew and Old Greek Versions of Jeremiah 37(44):1–40(47):6 (FAT 2/​89; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017). 25. Pritchard, Ancient Near Eastern Texts, 308. 26. Michael D. Coogan, West Semitic Personal Names in the Murašu Documents (HSM 7; Missoula, MT: Harvard Semitic Museum, 1976). 27. Yoshitaka Kobiyashi, “Tel-​Abib,” in The Anchor Bible Dictionary, ed. David N. Freedman et al. (New York: Doubleday, 1994), 6:344.

Bibliography Birdsong, Shelley L. The Last King(s) of Judah: Zedekiah and Sedekias in the Hebrew and Old Greek Versions of Jeremiah 37(44):1–40(47):6. FAT 2/​89. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017.

32   Marvin A. Sweeney Boardman, John, et al. eds. The Cambridge Ancient History III: Part 2, The Assyrian and Babylonian Empires and Other States of the Near East from the Eighth to the Sixth Centuries B.C. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991. Brinkman, John A. “Merodach Baladan II.” In Studies Presented to A. Leo Oppenheim, edited by Robert M. Adams, 6–​53. Chicago: The University of Chicago, 1964. Coogan, Michael D. West Semitic Personal Names in the Murašu Documents. HSM 7. Missoula, MT: Harvard Semitic Museum, 1976. Dotan, Trude, and Seymour Gitin. “Tel Miqne (Ekron).” In Stern, Archaeological Excavations, 3:1051–​1059. Finkelstein, Israel. “The Archaeology of the Days of Manasseh.” In Scripture and Other Artifacts: Essays on the Bible and Archaeology in Honor of Philip J. King, edited by M. D. Coogan, 169–​187. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1994. Grayson, A. K. “Assyria: Sennacherib and Esarhaddon (704–​ 669 B.C.)” In Boardman, Cambridge Ancient History, 103–​141. Grayson, A. K. “Assyria 668-​635 B.C: The Reign of Ashurbanipal.” In Boardman, Cambridge Ancient History, 142–​161. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 1–​20. AB 22; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1983. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 21–​37. AB 22A; New York: Doubleday, 1997. Halpern, Baruch. “Jerusalem and the Lineages of the Seventh Century bce: Kinship and the Rise of Individual Moral Liability.” In Law and Ideology in Monarchic Israel, edited by B. Halpern and D. W. Hobson, 11–​107. JSOTSup 124. Sheffield: Journal for the Study of the Old Testament, 1991. Japhet, Sara. I and II Chronicles: A Commentary. OTL. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1993. Joyce, Paul. Ezekiel: A Commentary. LHBOTS 482. New York: T&T Clark, 2007. Kobayashi, Yoshitaka. “Tel-​ Abib.” In The Anchor Bible Dictionary, edited by David N. Freedman et al., 6:344. New York: Doubleday, 1994. Levinson, Bernard. Deuteronomy and the Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997. McKenzie, Steven L. 1–​2 Chronicles. AOTC. Nashville: Abingdon, 2004. Mayfield, Tyler. Literary Structure and Setting in Ezekiel. FAT 2/​ 43. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012. Oates, Joan. “The Fall of Assyria (635–​609 B.C.).” In Boardman, Cambridge Ancient History, 162–​193. Odell, Margaret S. Ezekiel. SHBC. Macon, GA: Smyth and Helwys, 2005. Pritchard, James B., ed. Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1969. Pritchard, James B., ed. The Ancient Near East in Pictures. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1969. Stern, Ephraim, et al., eds. The New Encyclopedia of Archeological Excavations in the Holy Land. 4 volumes. Jerusalem: The Israel Exploration Society and Carta, 1993. Sweeney, Marvin A. 1 and 2 Kings: A Commentary. OTL. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2007. Sweeney, Marvin A. “Deuteronomy and the Reigns of Kings Hezekiah and Josiah of Judah.” In The Oxford Handbook for Deuteronomy, edited by D. C. Benjamin. Oxford: Oxford University Press, forthcoming. Sweeney, Marvin A. “Ezekiel: Zadokite Priest and Visionary Prophet of the Exile.” In Form and Intertextuality in Prophetic and Apocalyptic Literature, 125–​143. FAT 45. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005.

Ezekiel in Its Historical Context     33 Sweeney, Marvin A. Isaiah 1–​39, with an Introduction to Prophetic Literature. FOTL 16. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1996. Sweeney, Marvin A. King Josiah of Judah: The Lost Messiah of Israel. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001. Sweeney, Marvin A. Reading Ezekiel: A Literary and Theological Commentary. ROT. Macon, GA: Smyth and Helwys, 2013. Tuell, Steven. Ezekiel. NIBC. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2009. Ussishkin, David. “Lachish.” In Stern, Archaeological Excavations, 3:897–​911. Weinfeld, Moshe. Deuteronomy 1–​11. AB 5. New York: Doubleday, 1991. Wilcoxen, Jay. “The Political Background of Jeremiah’s Temple Sermon.” In Scripture in History and Theology: Essays in Honor of J. Coert Rylaarsdam, edited by A. L. Merrill and T. W. Overholt, 151–​166. Pittsburgh: Pickwick, 1977.

Chapter 3

The Mesop ota mia n C ontext of E z e k i e l Daniel Bodi

The Book of Ezekiel’s testimony unequivocally presents itself as having been delivered in exile during the Babylonian captivity. Based upon the dating formulas in 1:2 and 40:1, Ezekiel’s prophecies extend for approximately twenty years, from 593 to 571 BCE. The prophet himself, however, was in Babylonia beginning in 597, the date of the first exile of the Jerusalem elite. Ezekiel considers himself part of the community-​in-​exile. Ezekiel went into exile with the eight thousand nobility, craftspeople, priests, and religious personnel who had been sent to Babylonia with King Jehoiachin during the first deportation (2 Kgs 24:14–​16). He was a victim of a common policy of the Assyrians and the Babylonians: the practice of selective deportation. By removing political, spiritual, and economic leadership, the Babylonians aimed to break down national resistance, prevent any possibility of revolt, and at the same time bolster the economy and military machine of the conqueror’s homeland.1 It is therefore not surprising to find a well-​established tradition, over one hundred years old, in which scholars sought to demonstrate the Babylonian linguistic, cultural, and literary influence on the Book of Ezekiel. There are basically three lines of approach used by scholars seeking to show Ezekiel’s rootedness in the Mesopotamian world: comparative, iconographic, and philological studies. Combining elements from the history of research, this chapter will focus on some key elements found in the Book of Ezekiel that very likely stem from a Mesopotamian context, providing a bibliography for scholars desirous to pursue this approach.

1.  Comparative Studies The comparative studies on the Book of Ezekiel began as soon as archaeologists embarked on excavating the site of ancient Nineveh in Assyria and other sites in

The Mesopotamian Context of Ezekiel    35 Iraq—​ancient Mesopotamia—​and when Assyriologists provided the first translations of the royal inscriptions of the Assyrian and Babylonian kings. In his Ezechiel-​Studien, David Heinrich Müller included a chapter titled “Cuneiform Parallels,” on parallels in Ezekiel that he collected from the royal inscriptions of the Assyrian Kings Tiglath-​pileser I (1114–​1076 BCE) and Aššurbanipal (668–​627 BCE).2 He argued that in the descriptions of carnage and destruction the prophet used some stereotyped formulations and literary motifs found in cuneiform inscriptions, as for example in Ezekiel 32:5–​6: “I will strew your flesh upon the mountains, and fill the valleys with your carcass. I will drench the land even to the mountains with your flowing blood; and the watercourses will be full of you.” This is comparable to the statement found in the Annals of the Assyrian King Tiglath-​pileser I, III 23–​7: “I piled up the corpses of their warriors on mountain ledges (and) made their blood flow into the hollows and plains of the mountains.”3 Müller also pointed out the stereotyped threefold and fourfold pattern in the pronouncement of calamity upon the people that is found in the Book of Ezekiel and in Akkadian literature (see Ezek 6:11, 7:15, and 12:16, “sword, famine, pestilence”; and 5:17 and 14:15–​19, where the “wild beasts” are mentioned as the fourth element of the scourge). As Assyriologists progressed with the deciphering of the Epic of Gilgameš, biblical scholars noted some parallels with Ezekiel. Samuel Daiches compared Ezekiel 14:12–​20 with the Babylonian account of the Deluge as found in tablet XI of the Epic of Gilgameš.4 Daiches characterized Ezekiel as a “scholar” who worked out his material carefully, sometimes laboriously. On the one hand, Ezekiel appears to have been thoroughly acquainted with the older prophetic writings. On the other hand, the Babylonian similes and expressions present throughout the book demonstrate Ezekiel’s familiarity “with the literature of the country in which he has spent the greater part of his life.” According to Daiches, this is “in perfect agreement with the scholarly nature of Ezekiel to make use of poetry and myth without regard to their origin.”5 Daiches pointed out that in Gilg. XI 180 ff., just as in Ezekiel, there is mention of a remnant. Instead of a Deluge, an alternative is offered consisting of four scourges: “the lion, the wolf, the famine, the pestilence.”6 Daiches concludes that Ezekiel made use of the Babylonian account but remodeled it to suit his purpose. G. Buchanan Gray suggested that the vision of the new Temple in the Jerusalem to come, described in Ezekiel 40–​43, might have been influenced by similar Babylonian visions.7 Gray mentioned Gudea’s dream, wherein the gods reveal to the king the plan of the Temple, in accordance with which he then builds it. The work of Gustav Hölscher is primarily a literary treatment of the Book of Ezekiel, in which he espoused the radical thesis that only the poetic parts of the book are authentic and stemmed from Ezekiel.8 However, he argued that Ezekiel had been more influenced by Babylonian mythology and literature than any other prophet. He enumerated themes that he deemed to be of Babylonian origin: “the garden of God” (Ezek 31:8) and “the mountain of God” (Ezek 28:14 and 16). He interpreted the seven executioners in Ezekiel 9 as the seven Babylonian planetary deities. Furthermore, Hölscher called on Assyriologists to examine the particular expressions used by Ezekiel

36   Daniel Bodi that appear to be of Babylonian origin. He compared the expression ben ʾādām “mortal,” which occurs often in Ezekiel, with the way the god Ea addresses the Babylonian Noah, the hero Ut-​napištim in Gilg. XI 38, as amēlu (see below; this suggestion had already made by Franz Delitzsch). In a series of lectures, Hugo Gressmann discussed the Babylonian background of Ezekiel’s vision of the New Jerusalem (Ezek 40–​48).9 He pointed out that the building plan of the Temple was revealed to King Gudea of Lagaš (ca. 2200 BCE) in a dream, while it was revealed in a vision to Ezekiel (40:2). Both would, therefore, reflect an ancient Near Eastern literary topos. Herbert May was the first scholar who attempted to interpret certain parts of the Book of Ezekiel in the light of the Poem of Erra.10 He suggested that the seven executioners in Ezekiel 9 may have antecedents in the Sebetti or “Divine Seven” in the Poem of Erra. In light of neo-​Assyrian and neo-​Babylonian vassal oaths, Matitahu Tsevat argued for the specific and radical way in which Ezekiel applied the oaths of vassalage to the king of Judah (Ezek 17:11–​21, 21:23–​29, 29:14–​16).11 According to Tsevat, other Hebrew prophets did not blame the kings of Judah and Israel when these violated the vassal oath, though sworn by their own God, because it referred to a religious, judicial, and social framework not their own, and thus had no foundation relevant to them. In the inaugural address of the Dutch Assyriologist Rintje Frankena at the University of Utrecht, titled “Remarks of an Assyriologist on Ezekiel,”12 he argued that the author or redactor of the Book of Ezekiel knew the Poem of Erra and that the latter influenced his way of expressing and formulating certain themes. He made a preliminary study of the expressions and themes that the Book of Ezekiel shares with the Poem of Erra. In another study,13 Frankena pointed out that several kings of Judah were vassals of Assyria and Babylon. The Annals of Esarhaddon and of Aššurbanipal mention King Manasseh as a vassal, menasi šar Yaudi.14 Hezekiah was a vassal of Sennacherib (2 Kgs 18:7), while Zedekiah was the vassal of Nebuchadnezzar (Ezek 17:19). On the basis of well-​ established conventions in the ancient Near East, Frankena conjectured that there were a certain number of cuneiform copies of the suzerain-​vassal treaties in the Jerusalem royal archive. He argued that the writers and redactors of certain biblical books such as Deuteronomy and Ezekiel knew and used these extrabiblical sources when describing the covenant between Yahweh and the people of Israel and formulating the curses and consequences attendant upon breaking the covenant. Oswald Loretz effected a rapprochement between Ezekiel 23:20 and a Sumerian proverb and suggested that both references reflect an ancient literary tradition.15 Jean-​Georges Heintz discussed the motif of the “devouring fire” as a symbol of divine judgment in the Hebrew Bible, including the Ezekiel passages. He posited a rapprochement with ancient Near Eastern texts and in particular the Poem of Erra, in which the god Išum, who is associated with fire, plays an important role.16 In an article titled “Absence of the Divine Statue,” Heintz examined the evidence relating to this phenomenon in the ancient Near Eastern literature, including the Poem of Erra.17 Although he

The Mesopotamian Context of Ezekiel    37 brought the theme into connection with ʾēl mistattēr “the hiding God” in Isaiah 45:15, his analysis is relevant for the theme in Ezekiel of Yahweh’s leaving the Temple in Jerusalem. Heintz further analyzed the symbolism of the lion and the sword in connection with the Tell Rimah stele.18 He discussed the motif of the sword in relationship to the Song of the Sword in Ezekiel 21:13–​22, and to the sword in the Poem of Erra. Michael Astour analyzed Ezekiel’s prophecy against Gog (Ezek 38–​39) in light of the didactic poem known as the Cuthean legend of Narām-​Sîn.19 According to Astour, Ezekiel condensed and remodeled a long list of ills and plagues from the Narām-​Sîn legend. He retained its essentials: the god’s anger, his subjects’ terror, earthquake, plague, torrential rains leading to floods, fire, internecine slaughter, and divine intervention in battle. Astour strongly emphasized the importance of Ezekiel’s Babylonian background for the understanding of his book. In his detailed and richly documented study, Bernhard Lang has traced the ancient Near Eastern background of Ezekiel’s political parables.20 He has analyzed the motifs of the eagle, the cedar, the vine, and the lion with reference to Akkadian and other texts, illustrated with some iconographic material. Moshe Anbar traced a particular tradition found in Ezekiel 22:24, according to which the land of Israel was spared the Deluge, to a line in the Poem of Erra that makes this claim about the “eternal city” of Sippar.21 Chapters 2 and 3 of Stephen Garfinkel’s doctoral dissertation, which he later published, present a thematic study.22 The author attempted to demonstrate the likelihood that Ezekiel used some Akkadian sources in the formulation of certain passages. Ezekiel’s commissioning, as well as his muteness, might have been patterned after Akkadian incantation texts. Following Frankena’s suggestion, B. Maarsingh compared the Song of the Sword in Ezekiel 21 with the Poem of Erra.23 The author has established a number of parallels in form and content between the two works. The article testifies to scholars’ growing realization of the relevance of the Poem of Erra for the study of the Book of Ezekiel. Frankena’s study was the point of departure for Daniel Bodi’s in-​depth analysis of the relationship between the Book of Ezekiel and the Poem of Erra.24 By analyzing twelve features that appear in the Book of Ezekiel and in the ninth-​century BCE Babylonian Poem of Erra, the study offers guidelines for a comparative-​contrastive approach, showing the considerable heuristic value but also the limitations of the comparative study of the ancient Near Eastern literature. The book attempts to demonstrate the likelihood that in the formulation of certain themes and motifs of the Book of Ezekiel, its author or redactor knew and used a contemporary Akkadian song called the Poem of Erra. Twelve features shared by the two works have been analyzed. These points of contact have been divided into two categories following a descending degree of probability. In the first category are four features that appear only in the Book of Ezekiel. In the second category are eight features that are present in Ezekiel and in the rest of the Hebrew Bible. The source of the first four features is probably extrabiblical, specifically the Poem of Erra. The source of the second category of motifs is likely to be found in antecedent

38   Daniel Bodi Hebrew prophetic traditions. Nevertheless, the Poem of Erra might have influenced the presentation of some aspects of these motifs. Abraham Winitzer offers a broad study of various elements found in the Book of Ezekiel that could be explained by its Mesopotamian background.25 The author argues that the enigmatic Hebrew expression in Ezekiel 28:13 tuppêkā ûněqābêka “your settings and your engravings” (NRSV) represents a specific reference to the Epic of Gilgameš as found in the colophons ṭuppi {#} ša naqba īmuru “Tablet {no #} of ‘The One Who Saw the Depths.’ ” He offers the following translation of the Hebrew expression: “Your tablet(s); your Depths (story).” What seems particularly promising in this article is the attempt to explain the prophet’s symbolic act in Ezekiel 4:4–​8 of lying on the left side for 150 days (according to the LXX) and then on the right side for 40 days, totaling 190 days. These numbers probably reflect elements of Babylonian hermeneutics involving gematria-​style manipulation of cuneiform figures.26 The recovery of the Akkadian background of the Book of Ezekiel can increase our understanding of a number of expressions, themes, and motifs that have been misunderstood, gratuitously emended, completely overlooked, or termed “obscure.” For example, Ezekiel 16 and 23 represent the two most difficult chapters in the Bible on account of the graphic and detailed description of the lewd behavior of two sisters, Oholah and Oholibah, symbols of Jerusalem and Samaria. In Ezekiel 16, however, the description of the willful abuse of a female body as a metaphor for Jerusalem’s straying from God has led to its having been censored by different religious communities and readerships. The famous psychiatrist and philosopher Karl Jaspers found in it ample material to show that Ezekiel was schizophrenic. According to him, the hallmarks of Ezekiel’s pathology are the belaboring of sexual imagery in order to depict religious unfaithfulness and his lingering on scabrous details, especially in an age less prejudiced than ours on such matters.27 To see pornography in Ezekiel 16, as modern readers suggest, is to read it as the opposite of what the prophet intends. In fact, in Ezekiel 16 and 23 the prophet is trying to provoke revulsion. These chapters contain some extremely daring images, and bringing the comparative material to the forefront makes them even more poignant. The method of interpretation adopted in Daniel Bodi’s comparative commentary on Ezekiel heightens the force of the intended outrage in the prophet’s message, which was aimed at provoking sensations of utter disgust toward idolatry.28 It is almost impossible to understand the startling images in Ezekiel 16 and 23 if we do not place them in the cultural and religious context of the prophet’s land of exile: Wer der Dichter will verstehen, muss in Dichters Lande gehen. More than any other chapters in this book, Ezekiel 16 and 23 are bound by their time, place, and culture. The biblical writer has woven into his creation images, terms, and idioms taken from contemporary religious, legal, social, and political reality. Ezekiel’s description contains a reminiscence of the Mesopotamian festival of Ishtar. Exiled in Babylonia, Ezekiel could not have failed to encounter this grandiose and in many respects obscene rite. Shocked by the practices he discovered in Mesopotamia, he draws heavily on the Ishtar cult as the epitome of the nation’s idolatrous and religious straying.29

The Mesopotamian Context of Ezekiel    39

2.  Iconographic Studies Austen Layard’s archaeological excavations at Tell Kuyunjik, ancient Nineveh, in the mid-​nineteenth century led to the discovery of the monumental and richly decorated palaces of the Assyrian kings. Layard had immediately suggested that Ezekiel’s vision of the kerubîm in Ezekiel 1 and 10 might have been inspired by these Assyrian composite creatures, winged lion-​bull figures with human heads, guarding the palace portals: “It will be observed that the four forms chosen by Ezekiel to illustrate his description—​the man, the lion, the bull, and the eagle,—​are precisely those which are constantly found on Assyrian monuments as religious types.”30 Further excavations at other Mesopotamian sites revealed the monuments set up by ancient Babylonian rulers, enabling readers of the Bible better able to assess the world in which some of the events Ezekiel describes took place. It prompted the publication of collections of ancient Near Eastern pictures by Hugo Gressmann in Germany in 1909, and by James Pritchard in the United States in 1954.31 René Dussaud’s study of the visions in Ezekiel represents a discussion of the iconographic procedure which Ezekiel employed in describing his visions, or as the author termed it, le procédé iconologique.32 The author argued that in analyzing Ezekiel’s visions one finds elements of the actual Babylonian reliefs and images the prophet observed in the land of his exile, and that “in every vision one could find elements of the previously seen image.” Gressmann’s collection of ancient Near Eastern texts and pictures relating to the Old Testament offers several illustrations of items found in the Book of Ezekiel.33 Lorenz Dürr published a combined iconographic and literary study of the visions of Yahweh’s chariot and the cherubs in Ezekiel 1 and 10.34 This study was decisive in demonstrating that the models for Ezekiel’s visions should be sought in Babylonian iconography. In spite of the rich iconographic material adduced by Dürr, there is not a single iconographic example of a being with four different faces as described in Ezekiel 1.35 The work of Alfred Jeremias is a running pictorial commentary on the Old Testament.36 A considerable number of items from Ezekiel are illustrated with motifs from Babylonian iconography. André Parrot compared two Old Babylonian bronze statuettes of a four-​faced god and goddess with Ezekiel’s vision of “four living creatures” each with four faces.37 These statuettes cannot be taken as exact parallels of Ezekiel’s vision, since they have four identical human faces. As noted by Moshe Greenberg, “the symbolism of four distinct faces (in Ezekiel’s vision) must be different, and for that we have no analogues.”38 In his thesis, entitled “Le Dieu au filet” (The God with a Net),39 Heintz combined the iconographic approach with a thematic study of the motif of the net as a divine weapon. He traced the motif in texts from Sumer (the Stele of the Vultures), Akkad, and in the Mari texts with prophetic content and related it to the Heb. ḥerem (net), a term that occurs several times in Ezekiel. Mari texts, which belong to the northwest Semitic domain (ARM 10, 80:14–​15; 13, 23:9–​10), anticipate Hebrew usage of the motif of the net as punishment for breaking an oath (Ezek 12:13; 17:20; 19:8; 32:3), confirming numerous

40   Daniel Bodi similarities not only in form but also in content. The net as a weapon of divine punishment was actually present on occasions of swearing oaths.40 Othmar Keel elucidated Ezekiel 1 and 10 in the light of ancient Near Eastern seal impressions.41 First, using literary analysis Keel established the interdependence between Ezekiel 1 and 10. Then he offered a collection of iconographic material which might have some bearing on the figures of these visions.42 Christoph Uehlinger, analyzed the abundant iconographic material which has been brought in relationship with Ezekiel 4 where the prophet is asked to represent graphically the siege of Jerusalem.43 He points out that the numerous plans of Mesopotamian cities do not really depict a siege situation, which makes their usefulness as comparative iconographic material becomes questionable. He concludes his article with the analysis of the relationship between the image and the accompanying prophetic word: while the image communicates typical representations, the explicative word provides it with individual and historical relevance. The vision of the double current flowing from the Temple in Jerusalem and the tree of healing growing on the riverbanks described in Ezekiel 47:1–​12 received a thorough iconographic and comparative treatment by Daniel Bodi.44 It analyzes two major ancient Near Eastern literary, iconographic, and religious motifs that have found their way in Ezekiel’s vision. The text in Ezekiel uses both motifs combined in the way in which they are found in ancient Near Eastern texts and iconography, which makes it possible to see Ezekiel 47:1–​12 as the initial point of entry of a Babylonian tradition into the Hebrew Bible. Following D. Barthélemy’s important textual-​critical observation that the original reading in v. 9, is naḥalayîm “double current, rivers,” the versions that transform it into a singular “river” represent an obvious lectio facilior.45 The double current echoes the iconographic and textual motifs of the two rivers that decorate the façades of several Mesopotamian temples. The trees of healing are found in Middle and Neo-​Assyrian healing incantations. In Ezekiel’s exilic prophecy, these motifs illustrate the vision of the spectacular renewal of nature and life with regained fertility and health inaugurated by the coming of the Messianic age. Joel 4:18 (ca. 400 BCE) and Deutero-​Zechariah 14:8 (ca. 300 BCE) make use of one or both motifs with some modifications. Joel combines the tree of healing with the Pentateuchal traditions regarding the Valley of Shittim (Num 33:49) and the šiṭṭîm-​acacia wood of the ark and other cultic objects (Exod 25:10, 23–​24; 26:15; 27:1; 30:1). The motifs were adapted in the so-​called intertestamental literature, as found in the Qumran texts, in the Apocrypha, and found their way to the Johannine literature (John 7:38, Rev 22:1–​2) and the Talmud. Before being further employed by other Hebrew prophets, however, these two motifs had their roots in ancient Near Eastern literature and iconography as far back as the second millennium BCE or even beyond.

3.  Philological Studies The Aramaic language was increasingly becoming the lingua franca of the last days of the Babylonian empire in the sixth century BCE. Concerning the Late Babylonian

The Mesopotamian Context of Ezekiel    41 language spoken at that time, the renowned Akkadian grammarian Wolfram von Soden describes it as a Mischsprache, consisting of a mixture of Akkadian and Aramaic.46 Ezekiel’s extended stay in Babylonian exile accounts for the unusually high proportion of Aramaic and Akkadian words in his book and the numerous images and themes that stem from the land of his exile. Ezekiel is truly a product of his time and of his environment. As has frequently been attested, the literary and intellectual leadership of any age manage to find common ground despite the political, social, or religious pressures intended to keep them separate. It is therefore conceivable that Ezekiel was able to converse with Babylonian scribes and religious leaders in Aramaic and thus to acquire knowledge of Akkadian literature, or at least some of its main themes, motifs, and metaphors. Ezekiel worked out his material carefully, sometimes writing as laboriously as a scholar. Replete with obscure references, images, metaphors, and difficulties in text and meaning, this book was difficult for both Jews and Christians to understand. Moreover, the Book of Ezekiel is replete with absolute hapax legomena as well as with terms that appear for the first time in the Hebrew language yet are utilized several times in Ezekiel, for example, Heb. ḥašmal (three times, in Ezek 1:4, 27; 8:20) corresponding to Akk. elmēšu “amber,” and Heb. šeʾaṭ (six times, in Ezek 16:57; 25:6, 16; 28:24, 26; 36:5) and Akk. šēṭu/​leqû šēṭūtu “to despise.”47 Confronted with all these new and foreign words, the Jewish Spanish rabbinic commentator Isaac Abrabanel (1437–​1508) accused Ezekiel of using “barbarisms,” saying that “it is certain that the prophet Ezekiel was not an expert (bāqî) in the holy tongue . . . This is why one finds with him foreign words (millôt zarôt) and occasionally either some additional letters or some letters missing.”48 While Abrabanel’s view is certainly exaggerated, it nevertheless expresses the impressions of one rabbi upon encountering Ezekiel’s peculiar vocabulary. From the various lists of Hebrew-​Akkadian equivalents established by scholars in the course of the history of research and quoted in this section, it is possible to establish an inventory of about eighty Akkadianisms in the Book of Ezekiel. For about fifty of them, the Babylonian provenance is certain or probable. It would be necessary to make a thorough philological analysis of these terms by studying both Hebrew and Akkadian phrases where the terms occur in context. It is also necessary to determine to what degree the Akkadian terms entered Hebrew through Aramaic, a language widely used in the Babylonian exile. The issue of the Babylonian influence on the Book of Ezekiel arose as soon as Assyriology established itself as a discipline. Friedrich Delitzsch explained several hapax legomena found in Ezekiel on the basis of Akkadian.49 In a preface to S. Baer’s Liber Ezechielis, Delitzsch presented a list of over thirty hapax legomena and other terms in Ezekiel that he explained as Akkadianisms.50 A year later, in a four-​part article,51 Delitzsch applied the results of his Assyriological research to Hebrew lexicography. In part 4 he dealt with the philological problems of the Poem of the Sword in Ezekiel 21.52 This was the first study in which Akkadian expressions were used to clarify the problematic Hebrew of the poem. The author displayed considerable respect for the Masoretic text, an attitude contrary to the prevailing trend among scholars of the time, who indulged in facile textual emendations. For each problematic item Delitzsch adduced the negative judgment of Rudolf Smend or

42   Daniel Bodi Theodor Nöldeke and then proceeded to show how each one of the apparently difficult terms could be explained in the light of corresponding Akkadian expressions. The value and farsightedness of Delitzsch’s approach can be seen when one compares his method with that propounded by Smend, his contemporary. Smend argued that the origin of the names of numerous precious stones mentioned in Ezekiel 28:13–​14, as well as the background of the vision of the cherubs, should be sought in India!53 In his Halle dissertation, Friedrich Selle reduced Delitzsch’s list of difficult words in Ezekiel which have been traced back and explained through Akkadian to twenty-​five.54 The author defended a thesis of a strong Aramaic element in the Book of Ezekiel. Felix Perles explained the hapax in Ezekiel 16:4 “nor were you washed with water to cleanse you (lemišʿî)” as originating from Akkadian mesûm II masāʾum (Ug. mešû) “to wash, rub.”55 The Akkadian term appears in connection with the washing of a child, enūma awēlu ṣeḫru tumassā’u “when you have washed the little one.” The word occurs in Old Babylonian Mari texts, referring to the washing of the feet: (16) [I GE]ME2 šaše20-​ pí-​ia i-​me-​es-​sú-​ú [ú-​uli]d-​di-​nam “he did not give me a slave who washes my feet” (Archives Royales de Mari 10, 29:16–​17). Harry Torczyner demonstrated that Ezekiel’s orthography of the term for a measure of flour śeʾâ (45:11), follows closely the Akk. še’u (1/​180 of a shekel),56 while in the rest of the Hebrew Bible the word occurs with a samek seʾâ (The Brown-​Driver-​Briggs Hebrew English Dictionary 684b). Bruno Meissner related the cherubs mentioned in Ezekiel 1 and 10 to the colossal representations of bulls and lions on Assyrian reliefs.57 He related the Heb. kerûb to Akk. kuru and examined a number of texts in which this term occurs. The work of Heinrich Zimmern dealt with all the words in the Hebrew Bible that could be related to or derived from Akkadian.58 Most words from Delitzsch’s list of Hebrew-​Akkadian cognates in Ezekiel have been incorporated in this work. Albin van Hoonacker explained the name Magog in the light of Sumerian, as a contraction of MA (=​mātu “country, land”) and GUG “darkness.”59 However, we might be dealing here with a particular hermeneutical procedure attested in Babylonian texts, precursor of the midrash and known as “analogical” or “Babylonian hermeneutics.”60 Paul Haupt produced a detailed philological analysis of Ezekiel’s Song of the Sword (Ezek 21) in the light of Akkadian.61 In line with his critique of C. C. Torrey’s hypothesis of the nonexistence of the exile, and in an attempt to give additional support for the view of a Babylonian locale of the Book of Ezekiel, Steven Spiegel summarized the discussion of the Babylonian loanwords.62 He reiterated Selle’s conclusion that there are a number of words in Ezekiel for which no other derivation is known but Akkadian. In the course of his philological work, in a series of articles, G. R. Driver pointed out the Akkadian background of certain terms in the Book of Ezekiel.63 In his Marburg Habilitationschrift, Georg Fohrer summarized the main issues related to the study of the Book of Ezekiel.64 The author subscribes to the traditional view of Ezekiel as a prophet who lived and exercised his ministry in Babylonia. He also included a section titled “Babylonian Influence on Ezekiel’s Proclamation” and reproduced a

The Mesopotamian Context of Ezekiel    43 list of Hebrew terms that might be of Babylonian origin. In reviewing Fohrer’s book, Raymond Tournay completed the list by adding twenty more terms that may reflect the Babylonian background of the Book of Ezekiel.65 In a series of review articles, Tournay maintained his basic thesis of an Akkadian influence on Ezekiel’s vocabulary and concluded with a study that dealt specifically with this issue.66 Maximilian Ellenbogen offered an etymological study of the foreign words in the Old Testament, including a few found in Ezekiel.67 The author criticized and rejected a number of Zimmern’s and Simon Landersdorfer’s explanations. In his introductory essay on Ezekiel’s language in his commentary on the Book of Ezekiel, Walther Zimmerli argues that the claim of a strong Aramaic coloring of Ezekiel’s vocabulary is an exaggeration and does not stand up to close examination.68 Zimmerli supports the work of Fohrer and Frankena, who argued for the presence of Akkadianisms and the influence of Akkadian literature on the Book of Ezekiel. Mayer Gruber’s master’s thesis discussed Akkadian influences on the Book of Ezekiel.69 The author analyzed a number of place names as well as trade, mineral, plant, cultic, political, and military terminology as evidence of Babylonian linguistic and cultural influence on the vocabulary of Ezekiel. The references to many place names, which are peculiar to Ezekiel among biblical literature, were sought in the written records of the land where Ezekiel heard them. In addition to these place names, Gruber was able to clarify a number of idioms and terms with reference to the Akkadian language. Greenberg clinched the issue concerning the interpretation of a crux in Ezekiel 16:36 with a reference to Akkadian, the commentary of Rashi, and a Talmudic anecdote.70 In Ezekiel 16, Jerusalem is described as a brazen harlot. She is rebuked for her wanton behavior, “because your neḥōšet poured out and your crotch was exposed.” The Hebrew hapax is a cognate of Akkadian naḫāštu, designating an abnormal female genital overflow.71 According to Greenberg, in Ezekiel 16:36 the sense would not be pathological but erotic, indicating a woman in a state of sexual arousal. Shalom Paul analyzed a series of Hebrew terms and expressions in the light of Akkadian equivalents.72 The Hebrew idiom lbqš myd (Ezek 3:18, 20; 33:8) and ldrš myd (Ezek 33:6; 34:10) meaning “to hold responsible,” has an exact interdialectal semantic equivalent in the Akkadian idiom ina qāti bu’û. In the first part of his doctoral dissertation, Garfinkel analyzes over seventy of the presumed Akkadianisms in Ezekiel that have been proposed by scholars.73 After a critical examination of each suggestion, the author rates the item in a hierarchy of probabilities. He concludes by determining whether the etymology is definite, probable, possible, improbable, or impossible. Chapters 2 and 3 of his dissertation represent a thematic study demonstrating the likelihood of Ezekiel’s familiarity with Akkadian literature. Basing his argument on the appearance of ancient biblical Hebrew and Akkadian terms in the same context (Ezek 16:41, Heb. ʾetnān, and nedānayik, 16:33, from Akk. nidnu “a present given by a prostitute to her lover”), Isaac Gluska maintains that Ezekiel was an “ideal bilingual,” who knew Hebrew and Akkadian and could switch “from one language to the other.”74 He also analyzed a couple of lexical borrowings from Akkadian: Heb.

44   Daniel Bodi ʾeškār (Ezek 27:15) and Akk. iškaru “tribute, payment, tax, gift,” which he understands as a payment of tax in return for permission to transport trading goods; taʿar haggallābîm “the barber’s razor” (Ezek 5:1), from Akk. gallābu “barber.” In the oracles against Tyre in Ezekiel 27, Daniel Bodi has explained six absolute hapax legomena in the light of Akkadian.75They designate commodities and products of Phoenician trade: v. 24 (biglômê tekēlet) “purple cloths/​mantles,” (ûbeginzê berōmîm) “multicolored cloths”; vv. 12, 14, 16, 19, 22, 27, and 33 (natenû ʿizebônayîk) “they gave (as) your commodities” (beʿizebônayîk natenû); v. 17 (Heb. pannag and Akk. pannigu) “flour”; v. 18 (beyêyn Ḥelbôn) “wine of Helbon”; and v. 20 (bigdê ḥōpeš lerikbâ) “saddlecloths for riding.” It is likely that the Phoenicians played a role as intermediaries, chief traders, and middlemen in the trade of the Mediterranean coast and as far as Mesopotamia. The name of Nebuchadnezzar II’s (604–​562 BCE) main merchant (GAL DAM.KÀR =​rāb tamkārī) was Ḫanūnu, an Akkadian transcription of a typically Phoenician name. During the dark years of the embargo against Iraq, an important discovery was made, unfortunately by looters, of a number of cuneiform tablets revealing that in 498 BCE, forty years after the Edict of Cyrus allowing Jews to return to their homeland, there existed a city in Babylonia called āl-​Yahudu,76 the “capital of Judah”—​in other words, the Jerusalem of Babylonia. The tablets reveal that the majority of the city’s population had Judean names. These exiled Judeans lived in a Babylonian city with the name of their old homeland and wrote their sale contracts, as did everybody else in Mesopotamia, in cuneiform. The Judean community of āl-​Yahudu offers a striking parallel to an Aramaic community from the city of Neirab.77 The cuneiform tablets found in Neirab, a site in the vicinity of Aleppo, were originally written in Babylonia and were carried to northern Syria by the Arameans who returned to their home city. Both Jewish and Aramaic communities show successful integration in the Mesopotamian world, culture, and economy as well as adoption of cuneiform for writing their juridical and economic contracts. Heretofore, the primary cuneiform evidence for Judeans in the post-​exilic period was the Murašû archive, consisting of approximately seven hundred texts from Nippur. These tablets cover a period of some fifty years, beginning in 450 BCE The latest text from āl-​Yahudu dates to 477 BCE, which reduces the 130-​year gap in evidence for Judeans in Mesopotamia between the onset of the exile in 587 BCE and the start of the Murašû documents in 450 BCE to a few decades.78 Unlike the Murašû archive, where individuals bearing Yahwistic or Hebrew names appear sporadically as witnesses or, even less frequently, as the economically less powerful party in a transaction, the āl-​ Yahudu corpus shows men of Judean descent as the main protagonists and archive holders. As a source of information relevant to the study of the history of Judeans and other nonnative populations in Mesopotamia in the sixth and fifth centuries BCE, the documents from āl-​Yahudu, Bīt Našar, and Neirab are of paramount importance. The texts published in the volume 28 of the Cornell University Studies in Assyriology and Sumerology are primarily legal and administrative in nature and illustrate the administrative, business, and, to a certain extent, family relationships of their actors. Written in late neo-​Babylonian and Achaemenid periods, between 572 and 477 BCE

The Mesopotamian Context of Ezekiel    45 (33 Nbk to 9 Xer), they were issued at hitherto unattested settlements of Judeans and other West Semitic peoples in rural Babylonia. Following Babylonian practices, these legal and administrative texts are dated explicitly to the month, day, and regnal year in which the transaction occurred. The dates make it possible to reconstruct the history of the composition of the texts in the archive and thus to place the actors in a chronological context.79 The earliest tablet in the collection (no. 1) dates from the twentieth day of Nisannu, in the thirty-​third year of Nebuchadnezzar II (572 BCE), fifteen years after the destruction of Jerusalem and its Temple. The latest text in āl-​Yahudu dates to the ninth year of the reign of Xerxes (477 BCE). To date, these texts provide the earliest evidence for the presence of Judean exiles, apart from the royal entourage, in Babylonia and show them, less than a generation after their exile, fully engaged in the business of agriculture, in direct contact with Babylonian officials, scribes, and businesspeople.

4. Conclusion While the previous generation of scholars debated whether Ezekiel ever went to the Babylonian exile and whether the book bearing his name was composed mainly in the land of Israel, the tendency of modern scholars is the opposite. Ezekiel is perceived as both a Hebrew priest and a Babylonian intellectual, and the debate includes topics such as the degree to which the prophet Ezekiel was versed in cuneiform script and lore and whether he belonged to the lower or upper stratum of Babylonian society.80 Ezekiel scholarship largely favors the view that the prophet’s activity took place mainly in Babylonia, influencing the language, metaphors, content, and rich imagery of the book that bears his name.81 There is a real need to produce comparative-​contrastive studies identifying similarities and differences with Babylonian literature and culture as well as to bridge the gap between comparative studies and redaction-​critical analyses of the Book of Ezekiel. The issue is not to oppose these different methods of research, but to include them in a larger theoretical and interpretative structure. The dialogue between these two different approaches could probably produce a more balanced assessment of the way this book came about and who was responsible for its composition.

Notes 1. Bustenay Oded, Mass Deportation and Deportees in the Neo-​Assyrian Empire (Wiesbaden: L. Reichert, 1979); K. Lawson Younger, “The Deportation of the Israelites,” JBL 117 (1998): 201–​227. 2. David Heinrich Müller, Ezechiel-​Studien (Berlin: Reuther & Reichard, 1885), 56–​62. According to René Dussaud, “Les visions d’Ézéchiel,” RHR 37 (1898): 313 n. 1, the most original and valuable part of Müller’s work is this chapter on cuneiform parallels, where the author attempts to show that Ezekiel was influenced by Akkadian literature. The Harvard professor Crawford H. Toy was among the first to identify the Babylonian ideas

46   Daniel Bodi and motifs found in the Book of Ezekiel; see Toy, “The Babylonian Element in Ezekiel,” Journal of the Society of Biblical Literature and Exegesis 1 (1881): 59–​66. 3. Translation from A. Kirk Grayson, Assyrian Rulers of the Early First Millennium BC, I (1114–​859 BC), RIMA 2 (Toronto: Toronto University Press, 1991), 17: šalmat qurādīšunu ina gisallat šadī kīma raḫīṣi ukkemir dāmīšunu ḫurri u bamāti ša šadī lušardi. Cf. CAD G, 97 gisallu (B) “(mountain) ledges.” 4. Samuel Daiches, “Ezekiel and the Babylonian Account of the Deluge: Notes on Ezek. xiv. 12–​20,” JQR 17 (1905): 441–​455. For a comparison between Ezek 14:12–​23 and Gilg. XI, see Daniel Bodi, “Les agents de la colère, de la grâce et du repentir divins en Ézéchiel 14, 12–​23 et en Gilgamesh XI, 181–​198,” in Colères et repentirs divins: Actes du colloque organisé par le Collège de France, Paris, les 24 et 25 avril 2013 , ed. Jean-​Marie Durand, Lionel Marti, and Thomas Römer, OBO 278 (Fribourg: Academic Press; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015), 71–​87. 5. Daiches, “Ezekiel and the Babylonian Account,” 401; Jean De Fraine, “Gilgameš apud Ezechielem?” VD 26 (1948): 49–​52. 6. In this case, the pestilence is designated “dErra.” Because Erra was also the god of pestilence, his name was often used in order to refer to it. 7. G. Buchanan Gray, “The Heavenly Temple and the Heavenly Altar,” Expositor 5 (1908): 532–​ 533: “The possibility and even the probability that Ezekiel is here influenced by Babylonian ideas may be admitted on these grounds: (1) that he shows elsewhere much openness to the influence of his Babylonian surroundings; (2) that the belief in temples built according to plans given from heaven is known to have existed in Babylon.” 8. Gustav Hölscher, Hesekiel, der Dichter und das Buch: Eine literaturkritische Untersuchung, BZAW 39 (Giessen: Alfred Töpelmann, 1924), 9. Hölscher recognized twenty-​one passages as genuine, of which sixteen were in poetic form. These together cover in whole or in part some 170 verses out of the book’s total of 1273 verses. 9. Hugo Gressmann, The Tower of Babel, Hilda Stich Stroock Lectures at the Jewish Institute of Religion, ed. Julian Obermann (New York: Jewish Institute of Religion Press, 1928), 61; cf. “The oldest prophecies concerning the Jerusalem to come, which we can accurately date, can be traced to Jewish prophets resident in Babylonia, that is to say Ezekiel and Deutero-​Isaiah” (62). 10. Herbert G. May, “The Departure of the Glory of Yahweh,” JBL 56 (1937): 312, 320 n. 39. 11. Matitahu Tsevat, “The Neo-​Assyrian and Neo-​Babylonian Vassal Oaths and the Prophet Ezekiel,” JBL 78 (1959): 201. For a critique of Tsevat’s view, see Moshe Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 22 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1983), 321. 12. Rintje Frankena, Kanttekeningen van een Assyrioloog bij Ezechiël (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1965). The address was delivered on the occasion of the inauguration of a chair at the University of Utrecht that Frankena occupied, called Hoogleraar in het Hebreews de Hebreewse Oudheidkunde in het Babylonisch-​Assyrisch (Chair of Hebrew of Ancient Hebrew Culture and of Babylonian-​Assyrian). 13. Rintje Frankena, “The Vassal Treaties of Esarhaddon and the Dating of Deuteronomy,” OTS 14 (1965): 122–​154. On the covenant formulations, see Dennis J. McCarthy, Old Testament Covenant: A Survey of Current Opinions (Atlanta, GA: John Knox Press, 1972); Moshe Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1972); Noel Weeks, Admonition and Curse: The Ancient Near Eastern Treaty/​Covenant Form as a Problem in Inter-​Cultural Relationships, JSOTSup 407

The Mesopotamian Context of Ezekiel    47 (London: T & T Clark, 2004). The entire discussion on ancient Near Eastern covenant treaties has been updated with abundant material from Old Babylonian Mari texts stemming from the Northwest Semitic domain by Dominique Charpin, “Rites amorrites, traités hittites, Adê néo-​assyriens et alliances dans la Bible,” chap. 7 in “Tu es de mon sang”: Les alliances dans le Proche-​Orient ancien (Paris: Collège de France, Les Belles Lettres, 2019), 235–​264. 14. Frankena, “The Vassal-​Treaties of Esarhaddon,” 151; Earl Leichty, The Royal Inscriptions of Esarhaddon, King of Assyria (680–​669 BC), RINAP 4 (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2011), 23 (Esarhaddon I, V, 55, menasi šar Yaudi); Manasseh is listed in the Annals of Aššurbanipal (A, I, 72 ff. and C, I, 25 ff.), where together with other vassals he had to send troops to Assurbanipal for the battle against Tirhakah of Egypt, on which occasion they were called ardāni dāgil pānīya, “servants who attend before me,” i.e., “vassals,” CAD D, 25 dagālu “to look, to attend.” 15. Oswald Loretz, “Eine sumerische Parallele zu Ez 23,20,” BZ 14 (1970): 26. 16. Jean-​Georges Heintz, “Le ‘feu dévorant’: Un symbole du triomphe divin dans l’Ancien Testament et le milieu sémitique ambiant,” in Prophétisme et alliance : Des Archives royales de Mari à la Bible hébraïque, OBO 271 Fribourg: Academic Press; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015), 141–​153; first published in 1973. 17. Jean-​Georges Heintz, “De l’absence de la statue divine au ‘Dieu qui se cache’ (Ésaïe 45/​ 15): Aux origines d’un thème biblique,” in Prophétisme et alliance, 155–​167; first published in 1979. 18. Jean-​Georges Heintz, “Langage métaphorique et représentation symbolique dans le prophétisme biblique et son milieu ambiant,” in Prophétisme et alliance, 223–​243; first published in 1983. 19. Michael C. Astour, “Ezekiel’s Prophecy of Gog and the Cuthean Legend of Naram-​Sin,” JBL 95 (1976): 567–​579. Most of these features occur in the Poem of Erra, which, however, Astour failed to mention. 20. Bernhard Lang, Kein Aufstand in Jerusalem: Die Politik des Propheten Ezechiel (Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1978); see also Lang, Ezechiel: Der Prophet und das Buch, EdF 153 (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1981). 21. Moshe Anbar, “Une nouvelle allusion à une tradition babylonienne dans Ézéchiel (XXII 24),” VT 29 (1979): 352–​353. 22. Stephen P. Garfinkel, “Studies in Akkadian Influences in the Book of Ezekiel” (Ph.D. diss., Columbia University, 1983); Garfinkel, “Of Thistles and Thorns: A New Approach to Ezekiel II 6,” VT 37 (1987): 421–​437; Garfinkel, “Another Model for Ezekiel’s Abnormalities,” JANES 19 (1989): 39–​50. 23. B. Maarsingh, “Das Schwertlied in Ez 21,13–​22 und das Erra-​Gedicht,” in Ezekiel and His Book: Textual and Literary Criticism and Their Interrelation, ed. Johan Lust, BETL 74 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1986), 350–​358. To the thematic studies, one may add De Fraine, “Gilgameš apud Ezechielem?” 24. Daniel Bodi, The Book of Ezekiel and the Poem of Erra, OBO 104 (Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1991). 25. Abraham Winitzer, “Assyriology and Jewish Studies in Tel Aviv: Ezekiel among the Babylonian Literati,” in Encounters by the Rivers of Babylon: Scholarly Conversations between Jews, Iranians, and Babylonians in Antiquity, ed. Uri Gabbay and Shai Secundo (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 199: “Tuppêkā ûněqābêka: The Epic of Gilgamesh Cited in Ezekiel?”

48   Daniel Bodi 26. Winitzer, “Assyriology and Jewish Studies in Tel Aviv,” 170–​171. 27. Karl Jaspers, “Der Prophet Ezechiel: Eine pathographische Studie,” in Rechenschaft und Ausblick: Reden und Aufsätze (Munich: Piper, 1951), 80–​89. Edwin C. Broome, “Ezekiel’s Abnormal Personality,” JBL 55 (1946): 277–​292, finds that Ezekiel was a victim of “catatonic schizophrenia . . . unconscious sexual regression, schizophrenic withdrawal, delusions of persecution and grandeur.” 28. Daniel Bodi, Commentary on the Book of Ezekiel, Zondervan Illustrated Bible Backgrounds Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2009), 4: 439–​441, dealing with Ezek 16. This is a comparative-​contrastive commentary of the Book of Ezekiel in the light of Semitic philology and iconography from the ancient Near East. 29. Daniel Bodi, “When Yhwh’s Wife, Jerusalem, Became a Strange Woman: Inversion of Values in Ezekiel 16 in Light of Ištar Cult; From Spouse to Brothel Boss (ʾiššâ zônâ šallāṭet),” in Foreign Women in Ancient Israel/​Palestine, ed. Angelika Berlejung and Marianne Grohmann, Orentalische Religionen in der Antike 35 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2019), 77–​ 108. The use of the term strange, as here applied to Jerusalem personified as Yhwh’s wife, covers several meanings. It first implies that she is of foreign and pagan origin, as stated in Ezek 16:3 and 45. It also means that she is an estranged wife and mother whose behavior is criminally guilty, since she is doing things contrary to the usual course of things; instead of nurturing her children, she kills them, turning murder into a religious sacrifice and thus perverting the essence of the bond with Yahweh, which is to nurture her progeny and ensure a future for her people. As one who runs a brothel, instead of fostering life she is spreading death; she even inverts the usual behavior of a madam by paying her clients instead of being paid by them. The article tries to spell out the different aspects of her strange behavior, arguing that in the background of the metaphor one can detect remnants of the grandiose, orgiastic, and aberrant cult of Ištar that the prophet and the golah people might have seen in the Babylonian exile. The prophet and his redactional epigones drew freely on various aspects of the Ištar festival, with its radical inversion of values, in the elaboration of their metaphorical description of the religious infidelity and apostasy of a people called to be a nation of priests. Instead of focusing unilaterally on Jerusalem the adulteress as an abused woman harassed by an abusive God, as most modern studies tend to do, in the perspective of the Hebrew Bible the marriage metaphor places the emphasis on the children. Therefore, the reading here proposed calls for a systemic approach. The real victims of the toxic mother are the children, symbol of the nation, killed, misled, and offered up to aberrant and murderous pagan cults. Moreover, Jerusalem, as Yhwh’s estranged wife, should be seen in conjunction with texts dealing with “Mother Zion.” 30. Austen Henry Layard, Nineveh and Its Remains (London: J. Murray, 1849), 2:465; Susan Ackerman, “Assyria and the Bible,” in Assyrian Reliefs from the Palace of Ashurnasirpal II, ed. Ada Cohen and Steven E. Kangas (Hanover, NH: Hood Museum of Art, Dartmouth College, University Press of New England, 2010), 124–​142, Fig. 1. 31. Hugo Gressmann, in collaboration with Arthur Ungnad and Hermann Ranke, Altorientalische Texte und Bilder zum Alten Testament (Berlin: W. de Gruyter, 1927); James B. Pritchard, The Ancient Near East in Pictures Relating to the Old Testament, 3rd ed. (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1969). These compilations manifest a somewhat fragmented approach to iconography, having a very low threshold for what constitutes congruence between text and image. Strictly speaking, iconography would be a discipline within art history; see Daniel Bodi, “Mesopotamian and Anatolian Iconography,” in Behind the Scenes of the Old Testament, ed. Jonathan S. Greer, John W. Hilber, and John H. Walton (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2018), 165–​171.

The Mesopotamian Context of Ezekiel    49 32. Dussaud, “Les visions d’Ézéchiel,” 305, 312. 33. Gressmann, Ungnad, and Ranke, Altorientalische Texte und Bilder zum Alten Testament. For an illustration of the cherubs, see Figs. 378, 379, and 382; for the net in Ezek 17, see Fig. 181. 34. Lorenz Dürr, Ezechiels Vision von der Erscheinung Gottes (Ez. c.1 u. 10) im Lichte der vorderasiatischen Altertumskunde (Münster i. W.: Aschendorff, 1917). For suggestions about the ancient Near Eastern and Israelite background of the vision in Ezek 1, see Siegfried Sprank, Ezechielstudien (Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1926) 26–​73; Hans Schmidt, “Keruben-​Thron und Lade,” in Eucharisterion: Studien zur Religion und Literature des Alten und Neuen Testaments; Hermann Gunkel zum 60. Geburtstage, dem 23. Mai 1922 dargebracht von seinen Schülern und Freuden, und in ihrem Namen, ed. Hans Schmidt (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1923) 120–​144. 35. For a critique of Dürr, see Ernst Vogt, “Die vier ‘Gesichter’ (pānîm) der Keruben in Ez,” Bib 60 (1979): 327–​347: “Bis jetzt is keine altorientalische Darstellung eines Kopfes mit vier verschiedenartigen Gesichtern bekannt geworden” (329). 36. Alfred Jeremias, “Ezechiel,” in Das Alte Testament im Lichte des Alten Orients (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1904, 1930), 698–​7 10. 37. The tiny bronze statuettes were found in Ischchali in central Mesopotamia and have been dated to the nineteenth century BCE; see André Parrot, Sumer: The Dawn of Art, trans. Stuart Gilbert and James Emmons, foreword André Malraux (New York: Golden Press, 1961), 284, Figs. 351 and 352. 38. Moshe Greenberg, “Ezekiel’s Vision: Literary and Iconographic Aspects,” in History, Historiography and Interpretation: Studies in Biblical and Cuneiform Literatures, ed. Hayim Tadmor and Moshe Weinfeld (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1983; Leiden: Brill, 1984), 164. Greenberg suggests that the symbolism of the divinity with four identical human faces is that of “all-​observing potency.” 39. Jean-​ Georges Heintz, “Le Dieu au filet” (Unpublished thesis, École Biblique et Archéologique Française, 1965). For a résumé of this work, see Heintz, “Oracles prophétiques et ‘guerre sainte’ selon les Archives Royales de Mari et l’Ancien Testament,” in Prophétisme et alliance, 29–​53. 40. Bodi, The Book of Ezekiel and the Poem of Erra, 162–​182; BM 96998, lines 39 and 49, in Klaas Veenhof, “Fatherhood Is a Matter of Opinion: An Old Babylonian Trial on Filiation and Service Duties,” in Literature, Politik und Recht in Mesopotamien: Festschrift für Claus Wilcke, ed. Walther Sallaberger, Konrad Volk, and Annette Zgoll, Orientalia Biblica et Christiana 14 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2003), 325. 41. Othmar Keel, Jahwe-​ Visionen und Siegelkunst, Eine neue Deutung der Majestätsschilderungen in Jes 6, Ez 1 und 10 und Sach 4, SBS 84/​85 (Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1977). On the basis of ancient Near Eastern seal impressions Keel points out that the creatures with four wings and two faces had the role of supporting the heavens and separating the holy from the profane (“Zweigesichtige Himmelsträger,” 230–​231). He criticizes Zimmerli and other commentators who are “too enthusiastic about the revolutionary theophany of Yahweh in an unclean land!” (233). The author affirms the contrary, arguing that the mention of such creatures in Ezekiel points to a radical separation between Yahweh’s holiness and the unclean land of Babylon. 42. For a critique of Keel’s work, see Vogt, “Die vier ‘Gesichter,’ ” “O. Keel hat die Zahl der altorientalischen Darstellungen von mehrgesichtigen und mehrköpfigen Mischwesen sehr erweitert. Aber auch er kann kein Beispiel eines Kopfes mit vier verschiedenartigen Gesichten anführen” (329)

50   Daniel Bodi 43. Christoph Uehlinger, “Zeichne eine Stadt . . . und belagere sie! Bild und Wort in einer Zeichenhandlung Ezechiels gegen Jerusalem (Ez 4f),” in Jerusalem: Texte—​Bilder—​ Steine, ed. Max Küchler and Christoph Uehlinger, NTOA 6 (Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1987), 111–​200; Christoph Uehlinger and Susan Müller Trufaut, “Ezekiel 1, Babylonian Cosmological Scholarship and Iconography: Attempts at Further Refinement,” TZ 57 (2001): 140–​171. 44. Daniel Bodi, “The Double Current and the Tree of Healing in Ezekiel 47:1–​12 in Light of Babylonian Iconography and Texts,” WO 45, no. 1 (2015): 22–​37. 45. Dominique Barthélemy, Critique textuelle de l’Ancien Testament, vol. 3 (Fribourg, Switzerland and Göttingen: Éditions universitaires and Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1992), 413. 46. Wolfram von Soden, Grundriss der akkadischen Grammatik, 2nd ed., AnOr 33 (Rome: Pontificium Institutum Biblicum, 1969), §2h: “wird es immer mehr zu einer babylonisch-​ aramäischen Mischsprache.” On the language in Persian times, see Daniel Bodi, “An Akkadian-​Aramaic Idiomatic Expression in Ezekiel 16:30 ʾamūlâ libbātēk ‘I Am Filled with Anger Against You’ and Remarks on the Languages in Persian Times,” Transeuphratène 50 (2018): 28–​38. 47. For a thorough analysis of these terms, see Bodi, The Book of Ezekiel and the Poem of Erra, 82–​94 on ḥašmal and 69–​81 on šeʾaṭ. 48. Samuel Cahen, “Préface au Livre d’Ézéchiel,” in La Bible: Traduction nouvelle (Paris: Arnould et Alfred Wittersheim, 1841), 11:36; Yitshak Abrabanel, Peruš ʿal neviʾîm ʾaḥaronîm (Jerusalem: Torah Va-​Daʿat, 1957). 49. Friedrich Delitzsch, The Hebrew Language Viewed in the Light of Assyrian Research (London: Williams & Norgate, 1883); see index. For a critique of Delitzsch’s etymologies, see Theodor Nöldeke, review of F. Delitzsch, Prolegomena eines neuen hebräisch-​ aramäischen Wörterbuch zum AT, ZDMG 40 (1886): 718–​743. 50. Friedrich Delitzsch, “Specimen Glossarii Ezechielico-​Babylonici,” in Liber Ezechielis, ed. S. Baer (Leipzig: B. Tauchnitz, 1884), X–​XVIII. 51. Friedrich Delitzsch, “Assyriologische Notizen zum Alten Testament, I–​IV,” ZK 2 (1885): 87–​98, 161–​178, 284–​294, 385–​398. 52. Friedrich Delitzsch, “Assyriologische Notizen zum Alten Testament, IV: Das Schwertlied Ezech. 21,13–​22,” ZK 2 (1885): 385–​398. In Delitzsch, Babel und Bibel, Dritter (Schluß-​) Vortrag (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-​Anstalt, 1905), 51 n. 9, the author’s suggestion that the expression ben ʾādām in Ezekiel should be understood in the light of Akkadian mār awēlu, i.e., a designation of a free person or a noble, has not been followed in the subsequent research. It is more appropriate to translate it as “mortal,” designating a creature belonging to the category of humans whose characteristic is mortality as opposed to the divine beings, who are immortal. Each time Ezekiel is addressed in such a way, he falls upon his face in proskunēsis, underlining his inferior position. See Cornelius B. Houk, “‫ בן אדם‬Patterns as Literary Criteria in Ezekiel,” JBL 88 (1969): 184–​190. 53. Rudolf Smend, Der Prophet Ezechiel, KeH 8 (Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1880), 221. 54. Friedrich Selle, De Aramaismis libri Ezechielis: Dissertatio inauguralis philologica (Halis Saxonum: Formis Kaemmererianis, 1890). The issue of Aramaisms is quite complex. Some Aramaisms may be taken as originating in Akkadian: see, e.g., Stephen A. Kaufman, The Akkadian Influence on Aramaic, AS 19 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1974). Other examples should be considered influences of Akkadian that touched both Hebrew and Aramaic independently. One has also to take into account the influence of Aramaic on

The Mesopotamian Context of Ezekiel    51 Akkadian. However, the number of Aramaic loanwords in Akkadian has been severely reduced; see Kathleen Abraham and Michael Sokoloff, “Aramaic Loanwords in Akkadian: A Reassessment of the Proposals,” AfO 52 (2011): 22–​76. 55. Felix Perles, Babylonisch-​jüdische Glossen: Sonderabzüge aus der Orientalischen Litteratur-​ Zeitung (Berlin: W. Peiser, 1905), 8.; cf. The Assyrian Dictionary of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago M/​II, 30. For the Mari reference, see Jean-​Marie Durand, Les documents épistolaires du palais de Mari, vol. 3, LAPO 18 (Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 2000), 451. 56. Harry Torczyner, in Anzeiger der Königlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien, philologisch-​historische Klasse, 1910, XX, and repeated in Torczyner, “Anmerkungen zu den Papyrusurkunden von Elephantine,” OLZ 15 (1912): col. 402: “Wie der Babylonier Ezechiel schreiben auch die unter babylonischem Einfluss stehenden Juden in Aegypten ś für s. Also śʾ=​ sʾh.” ŠE =​še’um is also used as a surface measure; see François Thureau-​Dangin, “Le ‘grain,’ mesure de surface,” RA 35 (1938): 156–​157; Hildegard Lewy, “Assyro-​Babylonian and Israelite Measures of Capacity and Rates of Seeding,” JAOS 64 (1944): 65–​73; Alasdair Livingstone, “The Akkadian Word for Barley: A Note from the Schoolroom,” JSS 42 (1997): 1–​5. The term śʾh could equally be as either a liquid measure or a square measure, according to the Talmudic tractates Minḥôt 12.4: “in a reservoir containing forty śʾh he can bathe for purification”; and Sebî’ît 3.2, where śʾh is used as a square measure designating a piece of land requiring one śʾh of seed. In the light of this parallelism between Hebrew see śʾh/​šʾh and Akk. še’um. 57. Bruno Meissner, “Bemerkungen zu den Asarhaddoninschriften,” OLZ 14 (1911): cols. 476–​ 477). See also Paul Dhorme and L. Hugues Vincent, “Les chérubins,” RB 35 (1926): 336: “We do not hesitate to recognize in the term kerûb the same root as the Babylonian kāribu.” See Alice Wood, Of Wings and Wheels: A Synthetic Study of the Biblical Cherubim, BZAW 385 (Berlin and New York: W. de Gruyter, 2008), 124–​128, 133–​138. 58. Heinrich Zimmern, Akkadische Fremdwörter als Beweis für babylonischen Kultureinfluss, 2nd ed. (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1917), index. For a critical assessment of Zimmern’s work, see Kaufman, The Akkadian Influences on Aramaic, 2–​3. 59. Albin van Hoonacker, “Éléments sumériens dans le livre d’Ézéchiel?” ZA 28 (1914): 336: “Magôg est la région des ténèbres ou du ténébreux, le Nord.” Simon Landersdorfer, Sumerisches Sprachgut im Alten Testament, Eine biblisch-​ lexikalische Studie (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1916). Landersdorfer attempted to demonstrate how through Akkadian a number of Sumerian words were transmitted to other Semitic languages, such as Hebrew, Aramaic, Syriac, and Arabic. The author also analyzed the so-​called Kulturwörte, which are used with great frequency and easily cross linguistic frontiers. A number of words found in the Book of Ezekiel were traced through Akkadian back to Sumerian. See Stephen J. Liebermann, The Sumerian Loanwords in Old-​Babylonian Akkadian, HSS 22 (Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1977). Cf. G. R. Driver, “Linguistic and Textual Problems: Ezekiel,” Bib 19 (1938): 183, who tries to explain away the linguistic difficulties. See also Maximilian Streck, “Das Gebiet der heutigen Landschaften Armenien, Kurdistân und Westpersien nach den babylonisch-​ assyrischen Keilinschriften,” ZA 15 (1900): 321 n. 1; Friedrich Delitzsch, Wo lag das Paradies? Eine biblisch-​assyriologische Studie (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1881), 246. Delitzsch drew attention to the name of a city prince, Gāgu, “a powerful ruler of a warlike mountain people not too far to the north of Assyria,” mentioned in the Annals of Aššurbanipal. 60. On Babylonian hermeneutics, see Daniel Bodi, “L’influence de l’herméneutique babylonienne sur les récits bibliques,” in Israël et Juda à l’ombre des Babyloniens et des Perses (Paris: De Boccard, 2012), 177–​207.

52   Daniel Bodi 61. Paul Haupt, “Etymological and Critical Notes 6: Ezekiel’s Song of the Sword,” AJP 47 (1926): 315–​318. 62. Steven Spiegel, “Ezekiel or Pseudo-​Ezekiel?” HTR 24 (1931): 244–​321, esp. section 6, “Language and Landscape,” 301–​309; Spiegel, “Toward Certainty in Ezekiel,” JBL 54 (1935): 148–​159. 63. Driver, “Linguistic and Textual Problems”; Driver, “Difficult Words in the Hebrew Prophets,” in Studies in Old Testament Prophecy, ed. H. H. Rowley (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1950), 52–​72; Driver, “Ezekiel’s Inaugural Vision,” VT 1 (1951): 60–​62; Driver, “Ezekiel: Linguistic and Textual Problems,” Bib 35, no. 2 (1954): 145–​159. 64. The work was subsequently published as Georg Fohrer, Die Hauptprobleme des Buches Ezechiel, BZAW 72 (Berlin: A. Töpelmann, 1952), 236–​240. 65. Raymond Tournay, Review of G. Fohrer, Die Hauptprobleme des Buches Ezechiel, RB 60 (1953): 417–​419. 66. Raymond Tournay, “Review of J. Steinmann, Le prophète Ézéchiel,” RB 61 (1954): 428–​432; Tournay, “Review of A. Van Den Born, Ezechiël,” RB 64 (1957): 126-​128. Tourney, “Review of W. Zimmerli, Ezechiel I,” RB 64 (1957): 129–​130; Tournay, “Review of H. G. May, Ezekiel,” RB 64 (1957): 601–​603; Tournay, “À propos des babylonismes d’Ézéchiel,” RB 68 (1961): 388–​393. This last article is a refutation of the view expressed in Paul Auvray, “Remarques sur la langue d’Ézéchiel,” BETL 12–​13 (1959): 461–​470, wherein the author argued that the terms in Ezekiel ascribed to the presumed Babylonian influence can be attributed equally well to the normal development of the Hebrew language. 67. Maximilian Ellenbogen, Foreign Words in the Old Testament. Their Origin and Etymology (London: Lusac, 1962). For an update on this topic, see Paul V. Mankowski, Akkadian Loanwords in Biblical Hebrew, Harvard Semitic Studies 47 (Winona Lake, IN: Esenbrauns, 2000). 68. Walther Zimmerli, Ezechiel, BKAT 13, nos. 1 and 2 (Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1969); translated into English by Ronald E. Clements as Ezekiel, vol. 1, ed. Ronald E. Clements, and vol. 2, ed. James D. Martin, Hermeneia (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1979, 1983); see Introduction, sec. 5.A, “The Language and Form of the Prophecies of the Book of Ezekiel,” 1:21–​24. See also Emil Kautzsch, Die Aramaismen im Alten Testament untersucht, I. Lexikalischer Teil (Halle: Niemeyer, 1902), 102. Of the 153 words that Kautzsch examines as Aramaisms, Ezekiel has 16, perhaps 17, examples. See also Max Wagner, Die lexikalischen und grammatikalischen Aramaismen im alttestamentlichen Hebräisch, BZAW 96 (Berlin: Töpelmann, 1966). Referring to Wagner’s study, Zimmerli says that “viewed in the number of words appearing, it emerges that in the 48 chapters of the book of Ezekiel there are 25 (+​3) (Aramaic) words against the 14 (+​8) words of the 39 chapters of Isaiah, which is a scarcely noticeable increase” (1:21). 69. Mayer Irwin Gruber, “Akkadian Influences in the Book of Ezekiel” (master’s thesis, Columbia University, 1970). 70. Moshe Greenberg, “NḤŠTK (Ezek. 16:36): Another Hebrew Cognate of Akkadian naḫāšu,” in Essays on the Ancient Near East in Memory of J. J. Finkelstein, ed. Maria de Jong Ellis, MCAAS 19 (Hamden, CT: Archon, 1977), 85–​86. 71. The Heb. term neḥōšet in Ezek 16:36 is not an absolute hapax, because it might be related to niḫaš in Gen 30:27. Greenberg refers to J. J. Finkelstein, “Old Babylonian Herding Contract and Genesis 31:38ff.,” JAOS 88 (1968): 34 n. 19, who explained Heb. niḫaš in Gen 30:27 as a cognate of Akk. naḫāšu “rich, abundant.”

The Mesopotamian Context of Ezekiel    53 72. Shalom M. Paul, “Unrecognized Biblical Legal Idioms in the Light of Comparative Akkadian Expressions,” RB 86 (1979): 231–​239. 73. Garfinkel, “Studies in Akkadian Influences.” 74. Isaac Gluska, “Akkadian Influences on the Book of Ezekiel,” in An Experienced Scribe Who Neglects Nothing. Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Honor of Jacob Klein, ed. Yitschak Sefati, Pinhas Atzi, Chaim Cohen, Barry L. Eichler, and Victor Avigdor Hurowitz (Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 2005), 718–​737 (732). However, both terms, iškaru and gallābu, occur in Old Babylonian Mari texts in a sixth-​century BCE Hebrew ostracon from Khribet el-​Qôm (line 5 ʾškrm) and in an eighth-​century BCE neo-​Babylonian Suḫu battle report, which would argue for a northwest Semitic origin of the Hebrew ʾeškār and gallābîm; see Daniel Bodi, “The Food List on a Hebrew Ostracon and the Feast of King David in 2 Samuel 6:19,” ARAM 27, nos. 1–​2 (2015): 247–​248; and Bodi, “The 8th Century B.C.E. Battle Account of the Aramean Defeat at Suḫu and Its Bearing on Yahweh War Accounts and on Ezekiel’s hapax legomena: Philological and Comparative Study,” ARAM 31, nos. 1–​2 (2019), 443–​469. 75. Daniel Bodi, “Les denrées du commerce phénicien à partir de quelques hapax de l’oracle contre Tyr en Ézéchiel 27,” in Phéniciens d’Orient et d’Occident: Mélanges Josette Elayi, ed. André Lemaire, Bertrand Dufour, and Fabian Pfitzmann, Cahiers de l’Institut du Proche-​ Orient ancien du Collège de France 2 (Paris: J. Maisonneuve, 2014), 97–​112; Bodi, “Les gillûlîm chez Ézéchiel et dans l’Ancien Testament et les différentes pratiques cultuelles associées à ce terme,” RB 100, no. 4 (1993): 481–​510. 76. Laurie E. Pearce and Cornelia Wunsch, eds., Documents of Judean Exiles and West Semites in Babylonia in the Collection of David Sofer, CUSAS 28 (Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 2014). 77. Gauthier Tolini, “Le rôle de la famille de Nusku-​gabbê au sein d’une communauté de déportés originaires de Neirab en Babylonie au VIe siècle,” in La famille dans le Proche-​Orient ancien: Réalités, symbolismes, et images; Proceedings of the 55th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, Paris, 6–​9 July 2009, ed. Lionel Marti (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2014), 591–​598. 78. Pearce and Wunsch, Documents of Judean Exiles, 5; Bodi, “An Akkadian-​Aramaic Idiomatic Expression.” Caroline Waerzeggers, “Locating Contact in the Babylonian Exile: Some Reflections on Tracing Judaean-​Babylonian Encounters in Cuneiform Texts,” In Encounters by the Rivers of Babylon: Scholarly Conversations between Jews, Iranians, and Babylonians in Antiquity, edited by Uri Gabbay and Shai Secundo (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 131–​146. 79. Pearce and Wunsch, Documents of Judean Exiles, 4. 80. See the highly suggestive article with further bibliographic references by Laurie Pearce, “Ezekiel: A Jewish Priest and a Babylonian Intellectual,” Torah, May 21 (2017), https://​theto​ rah.com/​ezek​iel-​a-​jew​ish-​pri​est-​and-​a-​bab​ylon​ian-​intel​lect​ual/​. 81. David Vanderhooft, The Neo-​Babylonian Empire in the Latter Prophets. HSM 59. Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1999. David Vanderhooft, “Ezekiel In and On Babylon,” in Bible et Proche-​Orient: Mélanges André Lemaire III, ed. Josette Elayi and Jean-​Marie Durand, Transeuphratène 46 (Paris: Gabalda, 2014), 99–​119; Daniel I. Block, The Book of Ezekiel: Chapters 1–​24, NICOT (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997), 4: “Ezekiel’s primary audience was the community of Jews in Babylon”; J. F. Kutsko, Between Heaven and Earth: Divine Presence and Absence in the Book of Ezekiel, BJS 7 (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2000), 23: “The Babylonian setting of Ezekiel offers critical avenues of investigation, not only for understanding the religious and intellectual context of the exiles, but also for considering the ideological arguments presented in the book of Ezekiel.”

54   Daniel Bodi

Bibliography Abrabanel, Yitshak. Peruš ʿal neviʾîm ʾaḥaronîm. Jerusalem: Torah Va-​Daʿat, 1957. Abraham, Kathleen, and Michael Sokoloff. “Aramaic Loanwords in Akkadian: A Reassessment of the Proposals.” Archiv für Orientforschung 52 (2011): 22–​26. Ackerman, Susan. “Assyria and the Bible.” In Assyrian Reliefs from the Palace of Ashurnasirpal II, edited by Ada Cohen and Steven E. Kangas, 124–​142. Hanover, NH: Hood Museum of Art, Dartmouth College, University Press of New England, 2010. Anbar, Moshe. “Une nouvelle allusion à une tradition babylonienne dans Ézéchiel (XXII 24).” Vetus Testamentum 29 (1979): 352–​353. Astour, Michael C. “Ezekiel’s Prophecy of Gog and the Cuthean Legend of Naram-​Sin.” Journal of Biblical Literature 95 (1976): 567–​579. Auvray, Paul. “Remarques sur la langue d’Ézéchiel,” Biblioteca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium 12–​13 (1959): 461–​470. Barthélemy, Dominique. Critique textuelle de l’Ancien Testament. Ézéchiel, Daniel et les 12 Prophètes. Vol. 3. Fribourg, Switzerland and Göttingen: Éditions universitaires and Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1992. Block, Daniel I. The Book of Ezekiel: Chapters 1–​24. New International Commentary on the Old Testament. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997. Bodi, Daniel. “The 8th Century B.C.E. Battle Account of the Aramean Defeat at Suḫu and Its Bearing on Yahweh War Accounts and on Ezekiel’s hapax legomena: Philological and Comparative Study.” ARAM 31, nos. 1–​2 (2019), 443–​469. Bodi, Daniel. “Les agents de la colère, de la grâce et du repentir divins en Ézéchiel 14, 12–​23 et en Gilgamesh XI, 181–​198.” In Colères et repentirs divins: Actes du colloque organisé par le Collège de France, Paris, les 24 et 25 avril 2013, edited by Jean-​Marie Durand, Lionel Marti, and Thomas Römer, 71–​87. Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 278. Fribourg: Academic Press; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015. Bodi, Daniel. “An Akkadian-​Aramaic Idiomatic Expression in Ezekiel 16:30 ʾamūlâ libbātēk ‘I Am Filled with Anger Against You’ and Remarks on the Languages in Persian Times.” Transeuphratène 50 (2018): 13–​38. Bodi, Daniel. The Book of Ezekiel and the Poem of Erra. Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 104. Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1991. Bodi, Daniel. “Ezekiel.” In Zondervan Illustrated Bible Backgrounds Commentary, edited by John H. Walton, 4: 400–​517. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2009. Bodi, Daniel. “Les denrées du commerce phénicien à partir de quelques hapax de l’oracle contre Tyr en Ézéchiel 27.” In Phéniciens d’Orient et d’Occident: Mélanges Josette Elayi, edited by André Lemaire, Bertrand Dufour, and Fabian Pfitzmann, 97–​112. Cahiers de l’Institut du Proche-​Orient ancien du Collège de France 2. Paris: J. Maisonneuve, 2014. Bodi, Daniel. “The Double Current and the Tree of Healing in Ezekiel 47:1–​12 in Light of Babylonian Iconography and Texts.” Welt des Orients 45, no. 1 (2015): 22–​37. Bodi, Daniel. “The Food List on a Hebrew Ostracon and the Feast of King David in 2 Samuel 6:19.” ARAM 27, nos. 1–​2 (2015): 245–​253. Bodi, Daniel. “Les gillûlîm chez Ézéchiel et dans l’Ancien Testament et les différentes pratiques cultuelles associées à ce terme.” Revue Biblique 100, no. 4 (1993): 481–​510. Bodi, Daniel. Israël et Juda à l’ombre des Babyloniens et des Perses. Paris: De Boccard, 2012. Bodi, Daniel. “Mesopotamian and Anatolian Iconography.” In Behind the Scenes of the Old Testament: Cultural, Social, and Historical Contexts, edited by Jonathan S. Greer, John W. Hilber, and John W. Walton, 165–​171. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2018.

The Mesopotamian Context of Ezekiel    55 Bodi, Daniel. “When Yhwh’s Wife, Jerusalem, Became a Strange Woman: Inversion of Values in Ezekiel 16 in Light of Ištar Cult; From Spouse to Brothel Boss (ʾiššâ zônâ šallāṭet).” In Foreign Women in Ancient Israel/​Palestine, edited by Angelika Berlejung and Marianne Grohmann, 77–​108. Orentalische Religionen in der Antike 35. Tübingen, Mohr Siebeck, 2019. Broome, Edwin C. “Ezekiel’s Abnormal Personality.” Journal of Biblical Literature 55 (1946): 277–​292. Cahen, Samuel. “Preface to the Book of Ezekiel.” In La Bible: Traduction nouvelle, 11. Paris: Imprimerie de Wittersheim, 1841. Charpin, Dominique. “Tu es de mon sang”: Les alliances dans le Proche-​Orient ancien. Paris: Collège de France, Les Belles Lettres, 2019. Daiches, Samuel. “Ezekiel and the Babylonian Account of the Deluge: Notes on Ezek. xiv. 12–​ 20.” Jewish Quarterly Review 17 (1905): 441–​455. De Fraine, Jean. “Gilgameš apud Ezechielem?” Verbum Domini 26 (1948): 49–​52. Delitzsch, Friedrich. “Assyriologische Notizen zum Alten Testament, I–​IV.” Zeitschrift für Keilschriftforschung 2 (1885): 87–​98, 161–​178, 284–​294, 385–​398. Delitzsch, Friedrich. Babel und Bibel: Ein Vortrag. Dritter (Schluß-​ ) Vortrag. Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-​Anstalt, 1905. Delitzsch, Friedrich. The Hebrew Language Viewed in the Light of Assyrian Research. London: Williams & Norgate, 1883. Delitzsch, Friedrich. “Specimen Glossarii Ezechielico-​Babylonici.” In Liber Ezechielis, edited by S. Baer, X–​XVIII. Leipzig: B. Tauchnitz, 1884. Delitzsch, Friedrich. Wo lag das Paradies? Eine biblisch-​ assyriologische Studie. Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1881. Dhorme, Paul, and L. Hugues Vincent, “Les chérubins.” Revue Biblique 35 (1926): 328–​358. Driver, G. R. “Difficult Words in the Hebrew Prophets.” In Studies in Old Testament Prophecy, edited by H. H. Rowley, 52–​72. Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1950. Driver, G. R. “Ezekiel’s Inaugural Vision.” Vetus Testamentum 1 (1951): 60–​62. Driver, G. R. “Ezekiel: Linguistic and Textual Problems.” Biblica 35, no. 2 (1954): 145–​159. Driver, G. R. “Linguistic and Textual Problems: Ezekiel.” Biblica 19, no. 1 (1938): 60–​69. Durand, Jean-​Marie. Les documents épistolaires du palais de Mari. Vol. 3. LAPO 18. Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 2000. Dürr, Lorenz. Ezechiels Vision von der Erscheinung Gottes (Ez. c.1 u. 10) im Lichte der vorderasiatischen Altertumskunde. Münster: Aschendorff, 1917. Dussaud, René. “Les visions d’Ézéchiel.” Revue de l’histoire des Religions 37 (1898): 301–​313. Ellenbogen, Maximilian. Foreign Words in the Old Testament: Their Origin and Etymology. London: Luzac, 1962. Finkelstein, Jacob J. “Old Babylonian Herding Contract and Genesis 31:38ff.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 88 (1968): 30–​36. Fohrer, Georg. Die Hauptprobleme des Buches Ezechiel. Beihefte fur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 72. Berlin: A. Töpelmann, 1952. Frankena, Rintje. “The Vassal Treaties of Esarhaddon and the Dating of Deuteronomy.” Old Testament Studies 14 (1965): 122–​154. Frankena, Rintje. Kanttekeningen van een Assyrioloog bij Ezechiël. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1965. Garfinkel, Stephen P. “Another Model for Ezekiel’s Abnormalities.” Journal of the Ancient Near Eastern Society 19 (1989): 39–​50. Garfinkel, Stephen P. “Of Thistles and Thorns: A New Approach to Ezekiel II 6.” Vetus Testamentum 37 (1987): 421–​437.

56   Daniel Bodi Garfinkel, Stephen P. “Studies in Akkadian Influences in the Book of Ezekiel.” Ph.D. diss., Columbia University, 1983. Gluska, Isaac. “Akkadian Influences on the Book of Ezekiel.” In An Experienced Scribe Who Neglects Nothing: Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Honor of Jacob Klein, edited by Yitschak Sefati, Pinhas Atzi, Chaim Cohen, Barry L. Eichler, and Victor Avigdor Hurowitz, 718–​737. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 2005. Gray, G. Buchanan. “The Heavenly Temple and the Heavenly Altar.” Expositor 5 (1908): 385–​402. Grayson, Kirk A. Assyrian Rulers of the Early First Millennium BC, I (1114–​859 BC). The Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia, Assyrian Periods 2. Toronto: Toronto University Press, 1991. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 1–​20: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. AB 22. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1983. Greenberg, Moshe. “Ezekiel’s Vision: Literary and Iconographic Aspects.” In History, Historiography and Interpretation: Studies in Biblical and Cuneiform Literatures, edited by Hayim Tadmor and Moshe Weinfeld, 159–​168. Jerusalem: Magnes, 1983; Leiden: Brill, 1984. Greenberg, Moshe. “NḤŠTK (Ezek. 16:36): Another Hebrew Cognate of Akkadian naḫāšu.” In Essays on the Ancient Near East in Memory of J. J. Finkelstein, edited by Maria de Jong Ellis, 85–​86. Memoirs of the Connecticut Academy of Arts and Sciences 19. Hamden, CT: Archon, 1977. Gressmann, Hugo, in collaboration with Arthur Ungnad and Hermann Ranke. Altorientalische Texte und Bilder zum Alten Testament. Rev. ed. Berlin: W. de Gruyter. 1927. Gressmann, Hugo. The Tower of Babel. Hilda Stich Stroock Lectures at the Jewish Institute of Religion, edited by Julian Obermann. New York: Jewish Institute of Religion Press, 1928. Gruber, Mayer Irwin. “Akkadian Influences in the Book of Ezekiel.” Master’s thesis, Columbia University, 1970. Haupt, Paul. “Etymological and Critical Notes 6: Ezekiel’s Song of the Sword.” American Journal of Philology 47 (1926): 305–​318. Heintz, Jean-​Georges. “Le Dieu au filet.” Unpublished thesis, École Biblique et Archéologique Française, 1965. Heintz, Jean-​Georges. Prophètisme et alliance: Des Archives royales de Mari à la Bible hébraïque. OBO 271. Fribourg: Academic Press; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015. Hölscher, Gustav. Hesekiel, der Dichter und das Buch: Eine literaturkritische Untersuchung. Beihefte fur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 39. Giessen: Alfred Töpelmann, 1924. Houk, Cornelius B. “‫ בן אדם‬Patterns as Literary Criteria in Ezekiel.” Journal of Biblical Literature 88 (1969): 184–​190. Jaspers, Karl. “Der Prophet Ezechiel: Eine pathographische Studie.” In Rechenschaft und Ausblick: Reden und Aufsätze, 80–​89. Munich: Piper, 1951. Jeremias, Alfred. “Ezechiel.” In Das Alte Testament im Lichte des Alten Orients. 4th ed. Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1930. Kaufman, Stephen A. The Akkadian Influences on Aramaic. Assyriological Studies 19. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1974. Kautzsch, Emil. Die Aramaismen im Alten Testament untersucht, I. Lexikalischer Teil. Halle: Niemeyer, 1902. Keel, Othmar. Jahwe-​Visionen und Siegelkunst: Eine neue Deutung der Majestätsschilderungen in Jes 6, Ez 1 und 10 und Sach 4. Stuttgart Bibelstudien 84/​85. Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1977.

The Mesopotamian Context of Ezekiel    57 Kutsko, John F. Between Heaven and Earth: Divine Presence and Absence in the Book of Ezekiel. Biblical and Judaic Studies from the University of California, San Diego 7. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2000. Landersdorfer, Simon K. Sumerisches Sprachgut im Alten Testament: Eine biblisch-​lexikalische Studie. Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1916. Lang, Bernhard. Ezechiel: Der Prophet und das Buch. Erträge der Forschung 153. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1981. Lang, Bernhard. Kein Aufstand in Jerusalem: Die Politik des Propheten Ezechiel. Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1978. Layard, Austen Henry. Nineveh and Its Remains. 2 vols. London: J. Murray, 1849. Leichty, Earl. The Royal Inscriptions of Esarhaddon, King of Assyria (680–​669 BC). Royal Inscriptions of the Neo-​Assyrian Period 4. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2011. Lewy, Hildegard. “Assyro-​Babylonian and Israelite Measures of Capacity and Rates of Seeding.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 64 (1944): 65–​73. Liebermann, Stephen J. The Sumerian Loanwords in Old-​Babylonian Akkadian. HSS 22. Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1977. Livingstone, Alasdair. “The Akkadian Word for Barley: A Note from the Schoolroom.” Journal of Semitic Studies 42 (1997): 1–​5. Loretz, Oswald. “Eine sumerische Parallele zu Ez 23,20.” Biblische Zeitschrift 14 (1970): 126. Maarsingh, B. “Das Schwertlied in Ez 21,13–​22 und das Erra-​Gedicht.” In Ezekiel and His Book, Textual and Literary Criticism and their Interrelation, edited by Johan Lust, 350–​358. Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium 74. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1986. Mankowski, V. Paul. Akkadian Loanwords in Biblical Hebrew. Harvard Semitic Studies 47, Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2000. May, Herbert Gordon. “The Departure of the Glory of Yahweh.” Journal of Biblical Literature 56 (1937): 309–​321. McCarthy, Dennis J. Old Testament Covenant: A Survey of Current Opinions. Atlanta, GA: John Knox Press, 1972. Meissner, Bruno. “Bemerkungen zu den Asarhaddoninschriften.” Orientalistische Literaturzeitung 14 (1911): cols. 474–​477. Müller, David Heinrich. Ezechiel-​Studien. Berlin: Reuther & Reichard, 1885. Nöldeke, Theodor. Review of F. Delitzsch, Prolegomena eines neuen hebräisch-​aramäischen Wörterbuch zum AT. Zeitschrift der deutschen morgenländischen Gesellschaft 40 (1886): 718–​743. Oded, Bustenay. Mass Deportation and Deportees in the Neo-​Assyrian Empire. Wiesbaden: L. Reichert, 1979. Parrot, André. Sumer: The Dawn of Art. Translated by Stuart Gilbert and James Emmons. Foreword by André Malraux. New York: Golden Press, 1961. Paul, Shalom M. “Unrecognized Biblical Legal Idioms in the Light of Comparative Akkadian Expressions.” Revie Biblique 86 (1979): 231–​239. Pearce, Laurie. “Ezekiel: A Jewish Priest and a Babylonian Intellectual.” Torah, May 21, 2017, https://​theto​rah.com/​ezek​iel-​a-​jew​ish-​pri​est-​and-​a-​bab​ylon​ian-​intel​lect​ual/​. Pearce, Laurie E., and Cornelia Wunsch, eds. Documents of Judean Exiles and West Semites in Babylonia in the Collection of David Sofer. Cornell University Studies in Assyriology and Sumerology 28. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 2014. Perles, Felix. Babylonisch-​jüdische Glossen: Sonderabzüge aus der Orientalischen Litteratur-​ Zeitung. Berlin: W. Peiser, 1905.

58   Daniel Bodi Pritchard, James B. The Ancient Near East in Pictures Relating to the Old Testament. 3rd ed. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1969. Schmidt, Hans. “Keruben-​Thron und Lade.” In Eucharisterion: Studien zur Religion und Literature des Alten und Neuen Testaments; Hermann Gunkel zum 60. Geburtstage, dem 23. mai 1922 dargebracht von seinen Schülern und Freuden, und in ihrem Namen, edited by Hans Schmidt, 120–​144. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1923. Selle, Friedrich. De Aramaismis libri Ezechielis: Dissertatio inauguralis philologica. Halis Saxonum: Formis Kaemmererianis, 1890. Smend, Rudolf. Der Prophet Ezechiel. Kurzgefasstes exegetisches Hanbuch zur Alten Testament 8. Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1880. Soden, Wolfram, von. Grundriss der akkadischen Grammatik. 2nd ed. AnOr 33. Rome: Pontificium Institutum Biblicum, 1969. Spiegel, Steven L. “Ezekiel or Pseudo-​Ezekiel?” Harvard Theological Review 24 (1931): 244–​321. Spiegel, Steven L. “Toward Certainty in Ezekiel.” Journal of Biblical Literature 54 (1935): 145–​171. Sprank, Siegfried. Ezechielstudien. Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1926. Streck, Maximilian. “Das Gebiet der heutigen Landschaften Armenien, Kurdistân und Westpersien nach den babylonisch-​assyrischen Keilinschriften.” Zeitschrift für Assyriologie 15 (1900): 257–​382. Thureau-​Dangin, François. “Le ‘grain,’ mesure de surface.” Revue d’assyrologie et d’archéologie orientale 35 (1938): 156–​157. Tolini, Gauthier. “Le rôle de la famille de Nusku-​gabbê au sein d’une communauté de déportés originaires de Neirab en Babylonie au VIe siècle.” In La famille dans le Proche-​Orient ancien: Réalités, symbolismes, et images; Proceedings of the 55th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, Paris, 6–​9 July 2009, edited by Lionel Marti, 591–​598. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2014. Torczyner, Harry. “Anmerkungen zu den Papyrusurkunden von Elephantine.” Orientalistische Literaturzeitung 15 (1912): cols. 397–​403. Tournay, Raymond J. Review of G. Fohrer, Die Hauptprobleme des Buches Ezechiel. Revue Biblique 60 (1953): 417–​419. Tournay, Raymond J. Review of J. Steinmann, Le prophète Ézéchiel. Revue Biblique 61 (1954): 428–​432. Tournay, Raymond J. Reviews of A. Van Den Born, Ezechiël; G. C. Aalders, Ezechiël I; R. Augé, Ezequiel; W. Zimmerli, Ezechiel I. Revue Biblique 64 (1957): 126–​130, 601–​603. Tournay, Raymond J. “À propos des babylonismes d’Ézéchiel.” Revue Biblique 68 (1961): 388–​393. Toy, Crawford Howell. “The Babylonian Element in Ezekiel.” Journal of the Society of Biblical Literature and Exegesis 1 (1881): 59–​66. Tsevat, Matitahu. “The Neo-​Assyrian and Neo-​Babylonian Vassal Oaths and the Prophet Ezekiel.” Journal of Biblical Literature 78 (1959): 199–​204. Uehlinger, Christoph. “Zeichne eine Stadt . . . und belagere sie! Bild und Wort in einer Zeichenhandlung Ezechiels gegen Jerusalem (Ez 4f).” In Jerusalem. Texte—​Bilder—​Steine, edited by Max Küchler and Christoph Uehlinger, 111–​200. Novum Testamentum et Orbis Antiquus 6. Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1987. Uehlinger, Christoph, and Susanne Müller Trufaut. “Ezekiel 1, Babylonian Cosmological Scholarship and Iconography: Attempts at Further Refinement.” Theologische Zeitschrift 57 (2001): 140–​171.

The Mesopotamian Context of Ezekiel    59 Vanderhooft, David. “Ezekiel In and On Babylon.” In Bible et Proche-​Orient: Mélanges André Lemaire III, edited by Josette Elayi and Jean-​Marie Durand, 99–​119. Transeuphratène 46. Paris: Gabalda, 2014. Vanderhooft, David. The Neo-​Babylonian Empire in the Latter Prophets. HSM 59. Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1999. van Hoonacker, Albin. “Éléments sumériens dans le livre d’Ézéchiel?” Zeitschrift für Assyriologie 28 (1914): 333–​336. Veenhof, Klaas. “Fatherhood Is a Matter of Opinion: An Old Babylonian Trial of Filiation and Service Duties.” In Literature, Politik un Recht in Mesopotamien: Festschrift für Claus Wilcke, edited by Walther Sallaberger, Konrad Volk, and Annette Zgoll, 313–​322. Orientalia Biblica et Christiana 14. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2003. Vogt, Ernst. “Die vier ‘Gesichter’ (pānîm) der Keruben in Ez.” Biblica 60 (1979): 327–​347. Waerzeggers, Caroline. “Locating Contact in the Babylonian Exile: Some Reflections on Tracing Judaean-​Babylonian Encounters in Cuneiform Texts.” In Encounters by the Rivers of Babylon: Scholarly Conversations between Jews, Iranians, and Babylonians in Antiquity, edited by Uri Gabbay and Shai Secundo, 131–​146, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014. Wagner, Max. Die lexikalischen und grammatikalischen Aramaismen im alttestamentlichen Hebräisch. Beihefte fur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 96. Berlin: Töpelmann, 1966. Weeks, Noel. Admonition and Curse: The Ancient Near Eastern Treaty/​Covenant Form as a Problem in Inter-​Cultural Relationships. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 407. London: T & T Clark, 2004. Weinfeld, Moshe. Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1972. Winitzer, Abraham. “Assyriology and Jewish Studies in Tel Aviv: Ezekiel among the Babylonian Literati.” In Encounters by the Rivers of Babylon: Scholarly Conversations between Jews, Iranians, and Babylonians in Antiquity, edited by Uri Gabbay and Shai Secunda, 163–​216. Texte und Studien zum antiken Judentum 160. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014. Wood, Alice. Of Wings and Wheels: A Synthetic Study of the Biblical Cherubim. Beihefte fur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 385. Berlin and New York: W. de Gruyter, 2008. Younger, K. Lawson. “The Deportation of the Israelites.” Journal of Biblical Literature 117 (1998): 201–​227. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezechiel. Biblishe Kommentar, Altes Testament 13, nos. 1 and 2. Neukirchen-​ Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1969. Translated into English by Ronald E. Clements as Ezekiel 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 1–​24, and by James D. Martin as Ezekiel 2: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 25–​48. Hermeneia. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1979 and 1983. Zimmern, Heinrich. Akkadische Fremdwörter als Beweis für babylonischen Kultureinfluss. 2nd ed. Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1917.

Chapter 4

E zekiel and I sra e l ’ s Legal Tra di t i ons Michael A. Lyons

The book of Ezekiel is marked by a pervasively literary character, particularly when compared to other prophetic books. One of the book’s hallmarks is its creative adaptation of material, whether it be the re-​use and re-​formulation of its own motifs and images, or its use of earlier texts and traditions. The many similarities in form, content, and vocabulary between Ezekiel and the commands, motivations, and sanctions in the Pentateuch invite a closer look at how Israel’s legal traditions have been employed in the prophetic book.1

1.  Legal Terminology and Form The book of Ezekiel contains a number of technical legal expressions found also in priestly texts. The expression “This is the law (‫ ּתו ָֹרה‬tôrāh) of X” is used to either introduce or conclude cultic legislation in both Ezek 43:12 and in Lev 6:2, 7, 18; 7:1, 11, 37; 11:46; 12:7; 13:59; 14:32, 54, 57; 15:32; Num 5:29; 6:13, 21; 19:14.2 The pronouncement that an offender will “bear” his or her guilt or punishment (‫ נשׂא עָ ו ֹן‬n-ś-​ˀāwôn) is used in Ezek 14:10; 18:20; 44:10, 12 (see also the sign acts of 4:4–​6); this expression can be found in priestly texts such as Lev 5:1, 17; 7:18; 17:16; 19:8; 20:17, 19; Num 5:31. The prescription of capital punishment, “he shall surely be put to death” (‫ מו ֹת יוּמָ ת‬môṯ yûmāṯ), occurs in both Ezek 18:13 and in, e.g., Exod 21:12, 15–​17; 22:18; 31:14, 15; Lev 20:2, 9, 12; Num 35:16–​ 18. Another punishment-​related statement is “I will cut him off from the midst of my people” (Ezek 14:8); this is similar to the expressions found in Lev 17:10; 20:3, 5, 6.3 In some cases, the book of Ezekiel imitates the formal characteristics of unconditional (or apodictic) law.4 For example, the law for altar consecration (formulated in the second person) in 43:18–​27 is similar to the law in Exod 29:36–​37; and the laws for cult personnel (couched in the third person) in 44:15–​25 are similar to the laws in Lev 21:1–​15.

Ezekiel and Israel’s Legal Traditions    61 The conditional (or casuistic) form of law is likewise attested. The following passages use the same three-​element sequence: (a) an individuating statement (‫יש‬ ׁ ‫יש ִא‬ ׁ ‫ ִא‬ˀîš ˀîš) that includes both native-​born and resident alien, followed by (b) a statement of the offense, and (c) a statement of the penalty: (a) Anyone from the house of Israel or from the alien who resides in Israel (b) who dedicates himself away from me and contemplates his idols and places the stumbling-​block of his iniquity before his eyes, then comes to the prophet to inquire of me for himself . . . (c) I will set my face against that man . . . and I will cut him off from the midst of my people (Ezek 14:7–​8) (a)  Anyone from the house of Israel or from the alien who resides in Israel (b) who gives some of his offspring to Molech . . . (c) I will set my face against that man, and I will cut him off from the midst of his people (Lev 20:2–​3; see also 17:8–​9, 10)

What is remarkable about Ezek 14:7–​8 is that the formal features of legal material have been adapted for use in a completely different genre—​in this case, a literary report of prophetic accusation and judgment. Another case of adaptation can be found in Ezekiel 18, where the prophet responds to his contemporaries’ complaint that they are suffering for the sins of their ancestors. After claiming that they are in fact suffering for their own misdeeds, he constructs scenarios that imitate the form of conditional law commonly used in Leviticus, in order to argue that sin and guilt cannot be transferred across generations: If a man (‫יש ִּכי‬ ׁ ‫ ִא‬ˀîš kî) is righteous and does justice and righteousness . . . he is righteous; he shall surely live (Ezek 18:5, 9; see vv. 10–​13, 14–​17) If a man (‫יש ִּכי‬ ׁ ‫ ִא‬ˀîš kî) lethally strikes any person, he shall surely be put to death (Lev 24:17; see Lev 13:40; 15:16; 19:20; 22:14, 21; 24:19; 25:29)

This conditional-​law format is heavily modified in Ezek 14:12–​20 to create a four-​part scenario of an unspecified country that acts unfaithfully against Yhwh and is unable to avoid judgment. The first scenario reads: Mortal, if a land (‫ אֶ ֶרץ ִּכי‬ˀereṣ kî) sins against me so as to act unfaithfully, and I stretch out my hand against it, and I break its staff of bread, and I send a famine into it and cut off from it both humans and animals, and these three men—​Noah, Daniel, and Job—​ were in its midst, they would deliver only their own life by their righteousness—​ utterance of Lord Yhwh. (Ezek 14:13–​14; see vv. 15–​16, 17–​18, 19–​20)

Something of the function of case law is actually preserved in Ezekiel’s adaptation of it here: just as case law presents a specific response to a specific situation from which

62   Michael A. Lyons responses to similar situations can be derived, in the same way Ezekiel moves (by means of a fortiori reasoning) from his four scenarios about the fate of an unfaithful country (vv. 13–​20) to a direct statement about the fate of Jerusalem in verse 21.

2.  Similarities in Subject Matter between Ezekiel and Pentateuchal Laws Many of the legal traditions attested in the Pentateuch are similar in subject matter to material in the book of Ezekiel. These are listed in Table 4.1.5 While the outline above is helpful for displaying similarities, the book of Ezekiel does not conceptualize or present legal traditions in this way. For example, several of the offenses against fellow Israelites are presented in Ezekiel as offenses against Yhwh as well. The reason for this lies in priestly conceptions of purity: certain actions “defile” (‫ טמא‬ˀṭ-m-ˀ) or “pollute” (‫ חנף‬ḥ-​n-​p) the land itself—​a situation that must be prevented at all costs, because Yhwh’s presence is manifested in the land of Israel, among his people. Actions that defile the land include bloodshed (Num 35:33–​34; Ezek 36:17–​18), the worship of deities other than Yhwh (Ezek 36:17–​18; cf. Jer 3:9), and certain sexual practices (Lev 18:24–​28; see vv. 6–​23). This explains why the book juxtaposes accusations of homicide, idolatry, and incest (22:9–​12) and why it speaks of homicide and idolatry using priestly imagery of ritual impurity (36:17–​18; see Lev 15:19–​24; 18:19; Num 5:1–​4). This also explains why, when the prophet accuses the citizens of Jerusalem of practicing homicide, he underscores its defiling effects by referring to murder as “shedding blood” (22:3, 4, 6, 9, 12, 27; 36:17–​18) and calls Jerusalem “the bloody city” (22:2; 24:6, 9). He also transforms the language of the blood-​disposal ritual—​a practice for proper handling of animal blood—​into an accusation that the citizens of Jerusalem murder each other and do not even bother to conceal their crimes (Ezek 24:7 //​Lev 17:13). The priestly ideology of the book of Ezekiel is also evident in the way it conceptualizes how Israel’s actions affect Yhwh’s reputation. Yhwh is holy (‫ קָ דו ֹׁש‬qādôš), categorically separate from all else; his people Israel are to emulate this separation (Lev 11:44; 19:2; 20:7–​8, 24–​26). Improper cultic practices will therefore “profane (‫ חלל‬ḥ-​l-​l) Yhwh’s name”—​i.e., render Yhwh’s reputation common or ordinary, resulting in a state of affairs where God is thought to be no different than anyone else. This is why both Ezekiel and other priestly texts condemn child sacrifice (Lev 18:21; Ezek 20:31, 39) and priestly disregard for the proper treatment of distinctions, sacred donations, and sabbaths (Lev 10:10–​11; 19:3, 30; 22:2; Ezek 22:26). While the passages listed above are grouped by common subject matter, it is important to note further similarities and differences. For example, some of the passages share very similar vocabulary (e.g., Lev 18:19–​20//​Ezek 18:6). I noted above a significant difference in form, namely, that pentateuchal stipulations are transformed in Ezekiel 1–​39 into

Ezekiel and Israel’s Legal Traditions    63 Table 4.1. Laws in Ezekiel and the Pentateuch 1.0 Status in Society and Family 1.1 Citizenship and exclusion: Ezek 13:9; 47:22–​23 [see “Property and Inheritance” below] (Num 19:20; Deut 23:2–​9; Josh 22:24–​25; Jer 29:32) 1.2 Obligations of children to parents: Ezek 22:7 (Exod 20:12; 21:17; Lev 19:3; 20:9; Deut 5:16; 21:18; 27:16) 2.0 Offenses against Yhwh 2.1 Devotion/​lack of devotion to Yhwh alone 2.1.1 Devotion to other deities: Ezek 8:11, 14, 16; 14:3–​4, 7; 18:6, 12, 15; 20:7–​8, 16, 24 (Exod 20:3; 22:19; 23:13, 24; Deut 4:19; 5:7; 6:13–​14; 8:19; 11:16; 17:2–​5) 2.1.2 Child sacrifice: Ezek 16:20–​21, 36; 20:26, 31; 23:37 (Lev 18:21; 20:2–​5; Deut 12:31; 18:10) 2.1.3 Worship at rural shrines: Ezek 6:3, 13 [MT]; 16:16, 24–​25; 18:6, 11, 15; 20:28–​30; 22:9 (Deut 12:2) 2.1.4. Consumption of blood: Ezek 33:25 (Gen 9:4; Lev 17:10, 12, 14; 19:26; Deut 12:16, 23–​25; 15:23) 2.2 Prohibition against images: e.g., Ezek 8:3, 5, 10 [MT], 12; 16:17–​19; 22:3, 4; 36:18 (Exod 20:4–​5, 23; Lev 19:4; 26:1; Deut 4:15–​18, 23, 25; 5:7–​9; 27:15) 2.3 Handling of blood: Ezek 24:7–​8 (Lev 17:13; Deut 12:16, 24; 15:23) 2.4 Respect for sanctuary: Ezek 5:11; 23:38, 39; 44:6–​8 (Lev 19:30; 20:3; 22:8–​9; 26:2) 2.5 Respect for offerings: Ezek 22:8, 26; 44:6–​8 (Lev 19:8; 22:1–​7, 10–​16) 2.6 Sabbath observance: Ezek 20:12, 13, 16, 20, 24; 22:8, 22:26; 23:38; 44:24 (Exod 20:8–​11; 23:12; 31:13–​16; 34:21; 35:2; Lev 19:3, 30; 23:3; 26:2; Deut 5:12–​15) 2.7 Prohibited sexual practices 2.7.1 Sexual relations with a menstruating woman: Ezek 18:6; 22:10 (Lev 18:19; 20:18; cf. 15:24) 2.7.2 Sexual relations with a neighbor’s wife: Ezek 18:6, 11, 15; 22:11; 33:26 (Exod 20:14; Lev 18:20; 20:10; Deut 5:18; 22:22) 2.7.3 Sexual relations with one’s mother: Ezek 22:10 (Lev 18:7–​8; 20:11; Deut 22:30; 27:20) 2.7.4 Sexual relations with one’s daughter-​in-​law: Ezek 22:11 (Lev 20:12) 2.7.5 Sexual relations with one’s sister: Ezek 22:11 (Lev 18:9; 20:17; Deut 27:22) 2.8 Misrepresentation of Yhwh by inventing oracular pronouncements: Ezek 13; 22:28 (Deut 18:20–​22) 2.9 Swearing falsely: Ezek 17:12–​20 (Lev 19:12; Num 30:2) 2.10 Ritual purity (not an offense in itself, but it becomes an offense if one enters sacred space) 2.10.1 Food preparation and consumption: Ezek 4:12–​14a (cf. Leviticus 11 and Deuteronomy 14 for prohibited foods; cf. Deut 23:12–​14 for toilet practices) 2.10.2 Menstruation: Ezek 36:17b [used for an analogy] (Lev 15:19–​24; cf. 18:19; Num 5:1–​4) 3.0 Offenses against One’s Fellow Israelite 3.1 Homicide: Ezek 7:11, 23; 8:17; 12:19; 45:9 [“violence”]; Ezek 16:38; 18:10; 22:3, 4, 6, 9, 12, 27; 23:45; 33:25; 36:18 [“shedding blood”] (Gen 9:5–​6; Exod 20:13; 21:12, 14; Lev 19:16; 24:17; Num 35:16–​21, 30–​34; Deut 5:17; 19:10–​13) 3.2 Assault, Rape, Injury: Ezek 7:11, 23; 8:17; 12:19; 22:10; 45:9 (Exod 21:18–​27; Deut 22:25–​26) 3.3 Adultery: Ezek 18:6, 11, 15; 22:11a; 33:26 (Exod 20:14; Lev 18:20; 20:10; Deut 5:18; 22:22) (continued)

64   Michael A. Lyons Table 4.1. Continued 3.4 Robbery and theft: Ezek 18:7, 12, 16, 18; 22:29; 33:15 (Exod 20:15; 21:38–​22:14; Lev 5:21, 23; 19:11, 13; Deut 5:19) 3.5 Extortion, exploitation of debtor: Ezek 18:18; 22:29 (Lev 5:21, 23; 19:13; Deut 24:14–​15) 3.6 Fraud (with weights and measures): Ezek 45:10–​12 (Lev 19:35–​36; Deut 25:13–​16; cf. Mic 6:10–​11) 3.7 Slander: Ezek 22:9 (Lev 19:16) 3.8 Justice from royal and civil functionaries: Ezek 7:23; 11:1–​3, 6; 22:6, 12, 25 [LXX], 27; 34:1–​6, 17–​ 22; 45:8–​9; 46:18 (Exod 23:6–​8; Lev 19:15; Deut 16:18–​20) 3.9 Treatment of alien, orphan, widow, poor: Ezek 16:49; 18:7, 12, 16; 22:7, 29 (Exod 22:20–​23; 23:9; Lev 19:33–​34; 25:14, 17; Deut 24:17; 27:19) 4.0 Property and Inheritance 4.1 Land sale and redemption: see “Redemption” below 4.2 Land reversion in year of release: Ezek 46:16–​17 (Lev 25:8–​10, 23, 28) 4.3 Land inheritance by foreigners: Ezek 47:22–​23 (Lev 19:34 +​25:45–​46) 4.4 Borders and tribal land allotments: Ezek 47:13–​21; 48:1–​35 (Num 34:1–​29; 35:1–​8; cf. Josh 13–​21) 5.0 Contracts 5.1 Real contracts 5.1.1 Land sale (see “Redemption” below) 5.1.2 Interest on loans: Ezek 18:8, 13, 17; 22:12 (Exod 22:24; Lev 25:36; Deut 23:19–​20) 5.1.3 Pledges: Ezek 18:7, 12, 16; 33:15 (Exod 22:25–​26; Deut 24:10–​13; cf. 24:6, 17) 5.2 Promissory oath in an international treaty: see “Swearing falsely” above (international treaties are not regulated in the Pentateuch, but oaths in Yhwh’s name are) 5.3 Redemption 5.3.1 Redemption of indentured person: Ezek 11:15 (Lev 25:47–​49) 5.3.2 Redemption of land after sale: Ezek 7:12–​13 (Lev 25:25–​28) 6.0 Laws Regulating the Cult 6.1 Laws for cult personnel 6.1.1 Responsibility to make distinctions, instruct, and give rulings: Ezek 22:26; 44:23–​24 (Lev 10:10, 11; 11:47; 14:57; 20:25; Deut 17:9–​12; 24:8; 33:10) 6.1.2 Dietary laws: Ezek 4:14; 44:31 (Lev 22:8; cf. Exod 22:30; Lev 7:24; 17:15; 19:7) 6.1.3 Clothing: Ezek 42:14; 44:17–​19 (Exod 28:39–​43; Lev 6:10–​11; 16:4, 23) 6.1.4 Hairstyle: Ezek 44:20 (Lev 19:27; 21:5, 10; cf. Num 6:5) 6.1.5 Drinking wine on duty: Ezek 44:21 (Lev 10:9) 6.1.6 Acceptable spouses: Ezek 44:22 (Lev 21:7, 13–​15) 6.1.7 Corpse contact and purification: Ezek 44:25–​27 (Lev 21:1–​4, 11; Num 5:1–​3; 19:11–​22; cf. Lev 22:4–​7) 6.1.8 Lack of inheritance: Ezek 44:28 (Num 18:20, 24; Deut 10:9; 18:1–​2)

Ezekiel and Israel’s Legal Traditions    65 Table 4.1. Continued 6.1.9 Priestly donations/​eating offerings: Ezek 42:13; 44:29–​30 (Lev 2:3, 10; 5:13; 6:16, 25–​26; 7:1–​7; 10:12–​15; 22:7; Num 18:8–​10, 13–​15; Deut 18:1–​4) 6.1.10 Duties of Priests vs. Levites: Ezek 40:45–​46; 44:6–​16 (Num 1:50–​51; 3:1–​4; 3:5–​4:49; 18:1–​ 7, 21–​23; Deut 33:8–​10) 6.2 Laws regarding the sanctuary 6.2.1 Courtyards and perimeter: Ezek 40:5–​19; 42:15–​20 (Exod 27:9–​18) 6.2.2 Dimensions, sections, and decorations of sanctuary proper: Ezek 41:1–​26 (Exodus 26) 6.2.3 Table/​incense altar (?): Ezek 41:22 (Exod 25:23–​30; 30:1–​10) 6.2.4 Altar construction: Ezek 43:13–​17 (Exod 20:26; 27:1–​8) 6.2.5 Altar consecration: Ezek 43:18–​27 (Exod 29:36–​37; Lev 8:14–​21; cf. Lev 16:18–​19) 6.2.6 Land portions for temple and temple personnel: Ezek 45:1–​5; 48:9–​14 (cf. Num 1:53) 6.3 Laws regarding festivals and their offerings: Ezek 45:18–​25; 46:3–​7, 11, 13–​15 (Exod 23:14–​17; 34:18, 22–​23; Leviticus 16; 23; Num 28:3–​31; 29:1–​38; Deut 16:1–​16)

accusations. Moreover, in Ezekiel 40–​48, where we do find laws, we encounter many differences in content, not only in the focus on the Zadokite (as opposed to Aaronide) priesthood, but also in descriptions of festivals and offerings (compare Num 28:3–​31; 29:1–​38 with Ezek 45:13–​17, 21–​25; 46:3–​7, 11, 13–​15).6

3.  Obligation, Benefits, and Punishments Parallels are evident between Ezekiel and material in the Pentateuch (particularly in Leviticus 26)—​material that is not legal stipulation or prohibition, but rather the language of obligation and motivation for law-​keeping. Such language is sometimes referred to as “covenant language” or “covenant blessings and curses” (though the terms corresponding to “blessing” and “curse” are used in this way only in Deuteronomy, not in Leviticus or Ezekiel). See Table 4.2. In both Ezekiel and in pentateuchal legal traditions, Israel’s obligation to Yhwh is spoken of in terms of obedience: “keeping,” “doing,” and “walking in” Yhwh’s statutes and ordinances. Israel’s obligation could also be depicted metaphorically and in negative terms by prohibitions against “acting promiscuously” with other deities. Such metaphorical descriptions are rare in the Pentateuch, yet they occur with great frequency in Ezekiel. And while the notion of “covenant” relationship occurs in both Ezekiel and the Pentateuch, Ezekiel distinctively embeds the terminology in an extended metaphor based on marriage imagery (Ezekiel 16). Similarly, while the language of obligation occurs in both corpora, three differences are important: the conditional benefits of

Table 4.2. Obligations and Motivations in Ezekiel and the Pentateuch 1.0 Loyalty and Disloyalty to Yhwh 1.1 “Walking in/​keeping/​doing my statutes and my ordinances”: Ezek 5:7; 11:12, 20; 18:9, 17, 19, 21; 20:11, 13, 16, 18–​19, 21, 24, 25; 33:15; 36:27; 37:24 (Lev 18:4–​5, 26; 19:37; 20:8, 22; 25:18; 26:3, 15; cf. Deut 4:45; 6:17, 20. Deuteronomy prefers the masculine form of “statutes,” and also uses the terms ‫ תֹדֵע‬ˀēdōṯ “decrees” and ‫ תֹוְצִמ‬miṣwôṯ “commands”—​neither of which occur in Ezekiel.) 1.2 “Adultery” as metaphor for disloyalty: Ezek 16:32, 38; 23:37, 45 (this metaphor is absent in Pentateuch; for non-​metaphorical prohibitions against adultery, see Exod 20:14; Lev 18:20; 20:10; Deut 5:18; 22:22 ) 1.3 “Acting promiscuously” as metaphor for disloyalty: Ezek 6:9; 16:15–​17, 26–​41; 20:30; 23:3, 5, 19, 30, 43, 44 (Exod 34:15, 16; Lev 17:7; 20:5, 6; Num 14:33; 15:39; Deut 31:16) 1.4 Keeping vs. breaking covenant: Ezek 16:59; 44:7 (Lev 26:15; Deut 4:23; 17:2; 29:8, 24; 31:16, 20) 1.5 “Acting faithlessly”: Ezek 14:13; 15:8; 18:24; 20:27; 39:23, 26 (Lev 5:21; 26:40; Num 5:6) 2.0 Benefits for Compliance 2.1 Rainfall at proper time: Ezek 34:26 (Lev 26:4; cf. Deut 28:12) 2.2 Agricultural fertility: Ezek 34:27; 36:30 (Lev 25:19; 26:4; cf. Deut 28:4, 11) 2.3 Security: Ezek 28:26; 34:25, 27, 28; 38:8, 11, 14; 39:6, 26 (Lev 25:18, 19; 26:5) 2.4 No fear of enemies: Ezek 34:28; 39:26 (Lev 26:6) 2.5 Elimination of wild animals: Ezek 34:25, 28 (Lev 26:6) 2.6 Yhwh’s positive orientation: Ezek 36:9 (Lev 26:9) 2.7 Human fertility: Ezek 36:10, 11 [MT]; 37:26 [MT] (Lev 26:9; cf. Deut 28:4, 11) 2.8 Yhwh’s presence with the people: Ezek 37:27 (Lev 26:11a, 12a) 2.9 Belonging to Yhwh as the people [“covenant formula”]: Ezek 11:20; 34:30; 36:28; 37:27 (Lev 26:12; cf. Deut 27:9; 28:9) 3.0 Punishments for Noncompliance 3.1 “I will break the pride of your strength”: Ezek 7:24; 24:21; 33:28 (Lev 26:19) 3.2 Agricultural infertility (Lev 26:20; see “agricultural fertility” above—​reversal of Lev 26:4; cf. Deut 28:18, 24) 3.3 Wild animals: Ezek 5:17; 14:15, 21; 33:27 (Lev 26:22; see “elimination of wild animals” above—​ reversal of Lev 26:6) 3.4 Sword: Ezek 5:12, 14, 17; 6:3, 11, 12; 7:15; 11:18; 12:16; 14:17, 21; 29:8; 33:2, 27 (Lev 26:25; reversal of Lev 26:6) 3.5 Pestilence: Ezek 5:12, 17; 6:11, 12; 7:15; 12:16; 14:19, 21; 33:27 (Lev 26:25; cf. Deut 28:21) 3.6 Famine: Ezek 4:16; 5:12, 16; 6:11, 12; 7:15; 12:16; 14:13, 21 (Lev 26:26; cf. Deut 28:17, 51) 3.7 Cannibalism during siege: Ezek 5:10 (Lev 26:29; cf. Deut 28:53–​57) 3.8 Destruction of rural shrines and altars: Ezek 6:3, 4, 5 [MT], 6 (Lev 26:30) 3.9 Devastation of cities and land: Ezek 5:14; 6:6, 14; 12:20; 14:16; 15:8; 19:7; 20:23; 22:15; 33:24, 28, 29; 36:4, 33–​36, 38 (Lev 26:31, 32, 33; cf. Deut 28:52) 3.10 Scattering and exile: Ezek 5:2, 10, 12; 6:8; 12:14, 15; 36:19 (Lev 26:33; cf. Deut 28:36, 64) 3.11 “I will unsheathe a sword”: Ezek 5:2; 12:14 (Lev 26:33) 3.12 “You will rot in your iniquity”: Ezek 4:17; 24:23; see 33:10 (Lev 26:39)

Ezekiel and Israel’s Legal Traditions    67 Leviticus 26 (see v. 3) appear in Ezekiel 34 as unconditional promises; the conditional punishments of Leviticus 26 (see v. 14) appear in Ezekiel as imminent or actual events; and the breakable covenant of Lev 26:15 is quite different from Ezekiel’s hope for a future “everlasting covenant” (Ezek 16:60). Some of the same motivations for obedience can be found in both Ezekiel and in pentateuchal material: the statement that Yhwh brought the people out of Egypt is a common motivation for obedience (Exod 19:4–​6; 20:2; 29:46; Lev 11:45; 19:36; 22:33; 25:38, 42–​43, 55; 26:13; Num 15:39–​41; Deut 4:20, 37; 5:15; 6:12, 20–​24; 8:12–​14; 13:5, 10; 20:1; Ezek 20:5, 6, 10). However, the statement of motivation in Leviticus to “be holy, because Yhwh is holy” (Lev 11:45; 19:2; 20:7, 26) is not present as such in Ezekiel, where pessimism about Israel’s condition means that no mere statement about or reflection on Yhwh is sufficient motivation for action. In Ezekiel, the focus is on the motive behind Yhwh’s actions—​namely, his concern for the sanctity of his name and his determination to be recognized as holy (Ezek 20:41; 28:22, 25; 36:22, 23; 36:16; 39:7, 25, 27), which will result in Yhwh taking the initiative to transform Israel in order to guarantee their obedience.

4.  The Textualization of Israel’s Legal Traditions and the Question of Literary Dependence The notion that “the law is later than the prophets” (a sentiment associated with Julius Wellhausen) has practically achieved the force of a slogan in Pentateuchal scholarship.7 But as Konrad Schmid has shown, this statement glosses over the diversity of early critical opinion on the relationship between legal traditions and the prophets, and does not even precisely reflect Wellhausen’s own position.8 Actually, as a slogan the statement is so ambiguous as to be useless: does “law” refer to priestly or non-​priestly legal traditions, written sources behind the Pentateuch, the Pentateuch itself, or redactional additions to the Pentateuch? Does “prophets” refer to ecstatic speakers, prophetic books, or redactional additions to prophetic books? What about the relation of “the law” to the book of Ezekiel—​would not Israel’s pre-​exilic legal traditions have been available for its composition? And what about its relation to the Priestly stratum of the Pentateuch, a stratum which most—​though not all—​critical scholars hold to have been composed during or shortly after the exile? Wellhausen himself recognized that in pre-​exilic times, Israelite priests gave legal rulings, that the exilic codification of ritual presumed “an old and highly developed use,” and that “usage and tradition” for ordering life was present in ancient Israel and was ascribed to Yhwh.9 He also argued for the pre-​exilic composition of the Decalogue (Exodus 20), the Covenant Code (Exodus 21–​23), the “Law of the Two Tables” (Exodus 34), and the book of Deuteronomy (which, according to Wellhausen, presumed and borrowed earlier legal material).10 Yet he was adamant that priestly cultic praxis was

68   Michael A. Lyons written down only after the exile.11 In contrast, other scholars have recognized the likelihood that priests even in the pre-​exilic period maintained written legal traditions.12 Whether in written or oral form, it seems likely that many of Israel’s legal traditions would have been available for the composition of Ezekiel, a book widely acknowledged as dating to the sixth century. Can some of the similarities and differences between the book of Ezekiel and the legal material now in the Pentateuch be explained in terms of influence or literary dependence? And if so, what is the direction of that influence or dependence?13

4.1  Ezekiel and Legal Traditions in Deuteronomy The question of how the book of Ezekiel might be related to Deuteronomic material has been answered in a variety of ways.14 The issues that must be considered include what kind of Deuteronomic material is in view (locutions, laws, concepts and ideology), how parallels between Deuteronomy and Ezekiel might be explained (indirect conceptual influence of Deuteronomy on Ezekiel, direct literary borrowing at the compositional level of Ezekiel, direct literary borrowing at the redactional level of either book, redaction of one book in the style of the other), how parallels between Ezekiel and Jeremiah might be explained (did the Deuteronomistic editing of Jeremiah impact the editing of Ezekiel?), and the direction of dependence at any given point. While the question of dating is to some degree a concern (since Deuteronomy has undergone a lengthy and complex process of composition, and must be stratified before comparison to Ezekiel), most scholars agree that the composition of the legal core of Deuteronomy can be dated to the seventh century—​well before the composition of Ezekiel.15 Examples of typically Deuteronomic/​Deuteronomistic locutions in Ezekiel include: Ezek 6:13 “on every high hill, under every luxuriant tree”16 //​Deut 12:2; see 1 Kgs 14:23; 2 Kgs 17:10 Ezek 16:26 “to provoke” (hiphil ‫ כעס‬k-​ˁ-​s +​ Yhwh as object) //​ Deut 4:25; 9:18; 31:29; 32:16, 21; see Judg 2:12; 1 Kgs 14:15; 15:30; 16:2, 7, 13, 26, 33; 21:22; 22:54; 2 Kgs 17:11, 17; 21:6, 15; 22:17; 23:19, 26 Ezek 20:5 “to choose” (‫ בחר‬b-​ḥ-​r, referring to Yhwh’s election of Israel) //​Deut 4:37; 7:6, 7; 10:15; 14:2 Ezek 20:28 “every high hill and every leafy tree” //​Deut 12:2; see 1 Kgs 14:23; 2 Kgs 17:10 Ezek 20:28 “provocation” //​Deut 32:19; 1 Kgs 15:30; 21:22; 2 Kgs 23:26 Ezek 20:31 “offer (hiphil ‫ עבר‬ˀ-​b-​r) sons in fire” //​ Deut 18:10; see 2 Kgs 17:17; 21:6; 23:1017 Ezek 20:32 “serve wood and stone” //​Deut 4:28; 28:36, 64

Ezekiel and Israel’s Legal Traditions    69 Ezek 20:33, 34 “with a strong hand and an outstretched arm” //​Deut 4:34; 5:15; 7:19; 11:2; 26:8; see 1 Kgs 8:42

Some scholars account for these similarities in terms of general Deuteronomic influence on Ezekiel.18 Others place emphasis on Ezekiel’s creative skills, though they prefer to speak of Ezekiel’s interaction with Deuteronomic traditions as opposed to texts.19 Still others argue that Ezekiel deliberately borrows terminology from the form of Deuteronomy that was available to him.20 A good example of Ezekiel’s creative reshaping of material (from Deut 4:28, 34) can be found in 20:32–​34. Here Ezekiel borrows two Deuteronomic locutions (the language of judgment for rebellion and the language of past deliverance, both used in Deuteronomy as motivations for obedience). He puts the former into the mouths of his exilic contemporaries, accusing them of desiring to assimilate and serve in the cults of foreign deities, then denies that Yhwh will allow this to happen. He projects the latter locution—​an allusion to the exodus from Egypt—​into the future as a promise of hope, while adding his own idiom (“outpoured wrath,” Ezek 7:8; 9:8; 14:19; 16:38; etc.). The following verses (Ezek 20:35–​38) expand this argument in detail, countering the threat of assimilation by describing the promised return from Babylon as a new exodus (with a purging of the rebellious in the wilderness along the way). Other similarities between Ezekiel and Deuteronomy can be accounted for as redactional insertions in a Deuteronomistic style.21 In a few cases, Deuteronomic/​ Deuteronomistic terminology can be found in late additions to Ezekiel—​that is, where the terminology is present in the Masoretic text (MT) but lacking in the Old Greek translation. For example, the insertion of language from Deut 4:17–​18 in MT Ezek 8:10 explains what it means for “idols” to be “inscribed on the wall.” Likewise, the insertion of “to provoke” in MT Ezek 8:17 explains Judah’s offenses in Deuteronomic/​ Deuteronomistic language, coordinating the causal linkage of sin and judgment in Ezekiel with its depiction in Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic History. It seems clear, then, that we can speak of Deuteronomic influence on Ezekiel and Ezekiel’s use of Deuteronomic traditions and texts—​provided that we are clear about the level at which this influence or use is occurring.

4.2  Ezekiel and Legal Traditions in P If by “P” we mean the Priestly stratum (whether source or layer) in the Pentateuch, beginning with creation in Genesis 1 and ending perhaps with the account of the completed tabernacle (Exodus 40) or the Day of Atonement (Leviticus 16), then we lack clear evidence for Ezekiel’s use of such a source. But if we distinguish between the Priestly narrative stratum of the Pentateuch and the various priestly legal traditions that have been incorporated into it, recognizing that the Jerusalem priesthood would have constantly transmitted, added to, adapted, and reflected on its legal traditions both before and after the exile,22 then we can compare what we currently have in the Pentateuch to what we find in Ezekiel—​a book suffused with priestly expressions and ideology,23 whose

70   Michael A. Lyons contents are attributed to a prophet who is identified as one of the Jerusalem priestly elite. This is the approach taken by Zimmerli, who argues that “the undoubted contacts, in language and subject matter, between Ezekiel and P can be sufficiently explained from the view that P drew from the great stream of priestly tradition, from which also the priest-​prophet Ezekiel (at an earlier point of time) had also been nourished.”24 Although the Pentateuch in its current form is a post-​exilic composition, we cannot know with certainty where the priestly material in the Pentateuch reflects pre-​exilic practice and where earlier traditions have been shaped by post-​exilic theological reflection and/​or practice. And because we do not know the exact shape of the priestly material to which the composer and editors of Ezekiel had access, we must speak cautiously about Ezekiel’s “change” or “adaptation” of traditions. Then too, one must be cautious in accounting for the differences between Ezekiel and the legal material in the Pentateuch: are these differences to be taken as evidence that the composer and editors of Ezekiel did not know these legal traditions (because they were not yet textualized), or as evidence of Ezekiel’s creative reworking of these traditions? One example of the creative reworking of earlier priestly tradition in Ezekiel can be found in c­ hapters 1–​5. Both Odell and Sweeney have argued that the prophet’s commission in these chapters is modeled after the pattern of priestly ordination in Leviticus 8–​9.25 Even more similarities between priestly legal traditions and Ezekiel can be found in Ezekiel 40–​48, where absences and differences are sometimes as prominent as similarities. For example, the temple depicted in Ezekiel’s vision report is strikingly devoid of contents in comparison to the descriptions of the tabernacle in Exodus 25–​27 (as well as of the Jerusalem temple in 1 Kings 6–​7). There is no ark, no lampstand, no incense, and no bread laid out on a table (there is a wooden object that is ambiguously described as both “altar” and “table” in Ezek 41:22, but nothing is ever placed on it). In short, there is nothing that would require a priestly presence inside the sanctuary proper; even the yearly atonement ritual is performed entirely outside the sanctuary (Ezek 45:18–​20; cf. Lev 16). According to Kasher, these differences are to be explained by the fact that Ezekiel envisions Yhwh physically entering and permanently residing in the sanctuary (43:4–​9; 44:2), rendering priestly presence inside the sanctuary superfluous.26 Many features of Ezekiel 40–​48 are concerned with increasing and safeguarding sanctity:27 there is a focus on boundaries, buffer zones, and the control of access and movement (40:2; 44:2, 5; 45:1–​6; 46:20). We even find direct statements that the goal of this material is to preserve holiness (42:20; 43:12; 44:19, 23; 46:20). Meanwhile it is clear that ­chapters 40–​48 constitute a reaction to past abuses to the sanctity of temple and land (43:7–​8; 44:6–​8, 10–​12; 45:8–​9). It seems plausible, then, that some of the differences between legal traditions in the Pentateuch (assuming that they reflect earlier practice) and material in Ezekiel 40–​48 may be due to Ezekiel’s attempt to safeguard holiness. This motivation may explain several of Ezekiel’s measures: why he requires an additional ‫חַ ּ ָטאת‬ ḥaṭṭāˀṯ “purgation-​offering” for the festivals of Passover and Booths (45:22, 25; cf. Num 28:16–​22; 29:12–​34); why he prohibits priestly clothing in the outer court (42:13–​14; 44:17–​ 19; not mentioned elsewhere, though see Lev 16:3–​4, 23); why he prohibits linen-​wool mixtures for priestly clothing (44:17–​18; cf. Exod 28:5; 39:29; prohibited for the laity in Lev

Ezekiel and Israel’s Legal Traditions    71 19:19; Deut 22:11); and why he specifies the length of priestly purification from corpse contact (44:25–​27, not mentioned elsewhere for priests, and longer than the time specified in Num 19:11–​13).28 The distinction between priest and Levite in Ezek 44:10–​16 somewhat resembles what we see in Numbers 3–​4, 18 (see esp. Num 3:1–​10; 18:1–​7), though the Zadokite-​only (as opposed to simply Aaronide) priesthood is unique to Ezekiel.29

4.3  Ezekiel and Legal Traditions in H The Holiness material (H) is represented largely but not exclusively by Leviticus 17–​ 26, and is now thought by most to be an editorial layer added to already-​textualized priestly material (though precisely when this occurred is unclear). The striking number of distinctive locutions shared by Ezekiel and H (see the tables above) suggests a literary connection at some level, but the nature of the relationship has long been a matter of dispute.30 The variety of proposals include: models in which H uses Ezekiel,31 Ezekiel uses H,32 both use a common source,33 or both influence each other during a complex developmental process.34 Attempts to map out literary relationships are complicated by the fact that it is impossible to demonstrate the direction of literary dependence for each shared locution. Moreover, both H and Ezekiel have undergone expansion and modification. We have clear evidence that the book of Ezekiel received post-​compositional editorial adjustments toward Leviticus (MT Ezek 6:5a //​Lev 26:30; MT Ezek 36:11; 37:26 //​Lev 26:9), while the Vorlage of the Old Greek version of Lev 19:26 seems to have been influenced by Ezek 18:11, 15; 22:9. There are indications that Lev 26:40–​45 (which lacks the striking parallels with Ezekiel that are present elsewhere) may be a later addition to H, perhaps even a response to the pessimistic outlook of Ezekiel. It seems quite possible that both H and Ezekiel influenced each other during their development35—​though demonstrating this would require a more rigorous analysis than Zimmerli was able to provide. Legal material from Holiness traditions is employed in Ezekiel in a variety of ways: the author and editors of the book transform H’s commands into accusations (e.g., Ezek 20:13, 16, 21, 24–​25 //​Lev 18:4–​5, 19:30; 26:2; Ezek 34:4 //​Lev 25:43, 46, 53),36 into arguments denying the possibility of transgenerational punishment (e.g., Ezek 18:6–​9, 11–​13; 15–​18 //​Lev 18:19, 20; 19:11, 13; 20:10, 18), and into arguments about the swiftness of impending judgment (Ezek 7:12–​13 //​Lev 25:25–​28; this is one of the rare instances in which the direction of dependence can be ascertained, because Ezekiel’s argument—​ what is being bought and sold, and by whom?—​is completely unintelligible without a knowledge of Lev 25:25–​28). Material from the conditional covenant punishments of Lev 26:14–​39 is transformed into statements of imminent or actual threat against Jerusalem (e.g., Ezek 14:13, 15, 17, 19, 21 //​Lev 26:22, 33, 25, 26). Finally, material from the conditional covenant blessings of Lev 26:3–​13 is transformed into future unconditional promises (Ezek 34:25–​31 //​Lev 26:4–​6, 12, 13).37 How does the use of Holiness material in Ezekiel relate to the exilic situation behind the book? First, the book explains the exile as divine punishment for behavior prohibited

72   Michael A. Lyons in Holiness traditions, attributing the act of “scattering” (‫ זרה‬z-​r-​h) to Yhwh himself (12:15; 20:23–​24; 22:15; 36:17–​19 //​Lev 26:33a) and linking punishment to Israel’s behavior in a causal relationship (‫ יַעַ ן‬ya‘an “because”; see 5:7 //​ Lev 18:4; Ezek 15:8 //​ Lev 26:33b). Second, the book justifies the exile by asserting that it was “not without cause” (14:23) that Yhwh destroyed Jerusalem, and that even the presence of Noah, Daniel, and Job would not have sufficed to prevent punishment for its actions (14:12–​21 //​Lev 26:22, 25–​ 26). The exile is also justified in Ezekiel’s rehearsal of Israel’s history: the prophet argues that his own contemporaries (20:4, 30) perpetuate the same pattern of rebellious behavior as their ancestors (20:11–​13, 16, 19–​21, 24 //​Lev 18:5; 19:3). To sum up: In the book of Ezekiel, the use of material from the Holiness tradition is tied to the crisis of exile; it is used to create a link between actions and consequences, explaining and justifying the disaster as divine punishment for Israel’s unfaithfulness. Moreover, it is used to shape the identity of the exiles of 597 bce over against the claims of the Jerusalemites.38 In later editorial layers of the book, material from the Holiness tradition is used to create hope for restoration,39 and to critique past practice while creating ideal, priestly-​inspired visions of a purified cult.40

Notes 1. On “law” in the prophets, see Tova Ganzel, “Law in the Prophets,” Oxford Encyclopedia of the Bible and Law 1 (2015): 479–​484. 2. All translations from Hebrew Bible are my own. 3. The passive construction “That person will be cut off from [among] the people” is more common; see, e.g., Exod 31:14; Lev 7:20, 21, 25, 27; 17:4, 9, 14; 18:29; 19:8; 20:18; 23:29; Num 9:13. For interpretations of the ‫ ּ ָכ ֵרת‬kārēṯ “cutting off ” penalty, see Jacob Milgrom, Leviticus 1–​16 (Anchor Bible 3; New York: Doubleday, 1991), 457–​460. 4. On the formal features of biblical law, see Rifat Sonsino, “Forms of Biblical Law,” in Anchor Bible Dictionary, ed. David Noel Freedman (New York: Doubleday, 1992), 4:252–​254. 5. The table headings are adapted from Raymond Westbrook and Bruce Wells, Everyday Law in Biblical Israel: An Introduction (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2009). This schema is used merely for heuristic purposes; it should not be taken as a claim that these traditions functioned as statutory law, or that the law collections in the Pentateuch functioned as legislation. 6. For other differences, see Milgrom, Leviticus 1–​16, 281–​284; 451–​456; Jacob Milgrom and Daniel I. Block, Ezekiel’s Hope: A Commentary on Ezekiel 38–​48 (Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2012), 55–​60, 219–​220. 7. For Wellhausen’s own formulation of the issue and his indebtedness to earlier scholars, see Julius Wellhausen, Prolegomena to the History of Israel, trans. J. Sutherland Black and Allan Menzies (Edinburgh: Adam & Charles Black, 1885), 3–​4. 8. Konrad Schmid, “The Prophets after the Law or the Law after the Prophets? Terminological, Biblical, and Historical Perspectives,” in The Formation of the Pentateuch: Bridging the Academic Cultures of Europe, Israel, and North America, ed. Jan C. Gertz, Bernard M. Levinson, Dalit Rom-​Shiloni, and Konrad Schmid (Forschungen zum Alten Testament 111; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016). 9. Wellhausen, Prolegomena, 59, 60, 393.

Ezekiel and Israel’s Legal Traditions    73 10. Wellhausen, Prolegomena, 12, 402. 11. Wellhausen, Prolegomena, 59 (esp. note 1), 60, 395, 405n1. See, however, p. 402, where he does admit that priests “may before this time [621 bce] have written down many of their precepts.” This insistence that priestly legal materials were not textualized until the exile probably stemmed in part from his binary opposition between “free” and “institutional” religion; see ibid., 61, 402, 425. 12. Samuel R. Driver, An Introduction to the Literature of the Old Testament, 6th ed. (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1897), 142–​145, 151–​155; Menahem Haran, Temples and Temple Service in Ancient Israel (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1985), 146–​147; Israel Knohl, The Sanctuary of Silence: The Priestly Torah and the Holiness School (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1995), 200–​202; David Carr, Reading the Fractures of Genesis: Historical and Literary Approaches (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1996), 133–​139. Carr subsequently refers to “specialized priestly instructional material” in the eighth century; Writing on the Tablet of the Heart: Origins of Scripture and Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 165–​166. 13. On models for analyzing textual relationships, see Michael A. Lyons, From Law to Prophecy: Ezekiel’s Use of the Holiness Code (Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 507; New York: T&T Clark, 2009), 59–​75. 14. For overviews, see Frank-​ Lothar Hossfeld, “Ezechiel und die deuteronomisch-​ deuteronomistische Bewegung,” in Jeremia und die “deuteronomistische Bewegung,” ed. Walter Gross and Dieter Bohler (Bonner Biblische Beiträge 98; Weinheim: Beltz Athenäum, 1995), 272–​277; Corrine L. Patton, “Pan-​Deuteronomism and the Book of Ezekiel,” in Those Elusive Deuteronomists: The Phenomenon of Pan-​Deuteronomism, ed. Linda S. Schearing and Steven L. McKenzie (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 268; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1999), 200–​215. 15. See Bernard M. Levinson and Jeffrey Stackert, “Between the Covenant Code and Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty: Deuteronomy 13 and the Composition of Deuteronomy,” Journal of Ancient Judaism 3 (2012): 123–​140. 16. This verse has been expanded in the MT with locutions from Hosea 4:13, a passage that is similar to the verses under consideration. 17. Note the different idiom in Lev 18:21; 20:2, 3, 4; these speak of “giving (‫ נתן‬n-​t-​n) any of one’s offspring to Molek.” 18. E.g., Paul M. Joyce, Ezekiel: A Commentary (New York: T&T Clark, 2009), 10–​11. 19. For example, Patton refers to Ezekiel’s “conscious shaping of earlier traditions” and “propensity to manipulate early Deuteronomic and Ephraimite concepts” such as the motif of worship on the high places; “Pan-​Deuteronomism,” 206, 208. 20. For a list of shared locutions, see Risa Levitt Kohn, A New Heart and a New Soul: Ezekiel, the Exile and the Torah (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 358; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 2002), 86–​95. On the use of Deuteronomy in Ezekiel 20, see Dalit Rom-​Shiloni, “Deuteronomic Concepts of Exile Interpreted in Jeremiah and Ezekiel,” in Birkat Shalom: Studies in the Bible, Ancient Near Eastern Literature, and Postbiblical Judaism Presented to Shalom M. Paul on the Occasion of His Seventieth Birthday, ed. Chaim Cohen et al. (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2008), 101–​123. On Ezekiel’s use of Deuteronomic terms for idolatry, see Tova Ganzel, “Transformation of Pentateuchal Descriptions of Idolatry,” in Transforming Visions: Transformations of Text, Tradition, and Theology in Ezekiel, ed. William A. Tooman and Michael A. Lyons (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2010), 33–​49.

74   Michael A. Lyons 21. See, e.g., Walther Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 1–​24, trans. Ronald E. Clements (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979), 412, on Ezek 20:28. 22. On the various legal traditions, see William K. Gilders, “Priestly Law,” Oxford Encyclopedia of the Bible and Law 2 (2015): 166–​175. On the evolution of legal materials, see Baruch Levine: “It would be better to assume that P, as we have it, is the product of extended literary creativity. On this basis, some of P may be later than the period of the First Return, and other literary components—​earlier. Some parts of P may date to the exilic period . . . Finally, there may be some material in P that dates from the pre-​exilic period, and which was committed to writing at that time”; “Late Language in the Priestly Source: Some Literary and Historical Observations,” in The Proceedings of the Eighth World Congress of Jewish Studies (Jerusalem: World Union of Jewish Studies, 1983), 69–​82, here 70. 23. Levitt Kohn, New Heart, 30–​85. 24. Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 52. 25. Margaret S. Odell, “You Are What You Eat: Ezekiel and the Scroll,” Journal of Biblical Literature 117, no. 2 (1998): 229–​248; and Marvin A. Sweeney, “Ezekiel: Zadokite Priest and Visionary Prophet of the Exile,” in Form and Intertextuality in Prophetic and Apocalyptic Literature (Forschungen zum Alten Testament 45; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 125–​143. 26. Rimon Kasher, “Anthropomorphism, Holiness and Cult: a New Look at Ezekiel 40–​48,” Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 110, no. 2 (1998): 192–​208. 27. See Kalinda Rose Stevenson, The Vision of Transformation: The Territorial Rhetoric of Ezekiel 40–​48 (Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series 154; Atlanta: Scholars, 1996). 28. Admittedly, some of the differences between Numbers 28–​29 and Ezekiel 45–​46 (regarding festivals and the amount of offerings) are difficult to account for by this strategy of increasing sanctity. 29. On the relationship between the depictions of cult personnel in Ezekiel 44 and Pentateuchal texts, see Nathan MacDonald, Priestly Rule: Polemic and Biblical Interpretation in Ezekiel 44 (Beiträge zur Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 476; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2015). 30. For a history of research, see Michael A. Lyons, “How Have We Changed? Older and New Arguments about the Relationship between Ezekiel and the Holiness Code,” in Gertz et al., Formation of the Pentateuch, 1055–​1074. 31. Klaus Grünwaldt, Das Heiligkeitsgesetz Leviticus 17–​26: Ursprüngliche Gestalt, Tradition und Theologie (Beiträge zur Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 271; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1999). 32. Lyons, From Law to Prophecy. 33. Georg Fohrer, Die Hauptprobleme des Buches Ezechiel (Beiträge zur Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 72; Berlin: Töpelmann, 1952), 147. 34. Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 46–​52. 35. See Christophe Nihan, “Ezekiel and the Holiness Legislation—​A Plea for Nonlinear Models,” in Gertz et al., Formation of the Pentateuch, 1015–​1039. 36. In Ezek 34:4 (“ruled with strength and with harshness”), Ezekiel has glossed H’s rare expression “rule with harshness” (Lev 25:43). 37. On this last example, see Michael A. Lyons, “Extension and Allusion: The Composition of Ezekiel 34,” in Ezekiel: Current Debates and Future Directions, ed. William A. Tooman and Penelope Barter (Forschungen zum Alten Testament 112; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017). 38. E.g., 33:23–​29; see Rom-​Shiloni 2013: 139–​97. 39. See Lyons 2017 on Ezekiel 34. 40. See MacDonald 2015 on Ezekiel 44.

Ezekiel and Israel’s Legal Traditions    75

Bibliography Carr, David. Reading the Fractures of Genesis: Historical and Literary Approaches. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1996. Carr, David. Writing on the Tablet of the Heart: Origins of Scripture and Literature. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005. Driver, Samuel R. An Introduction to the Literature of the Old Testament. 6th ed. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1897. Fohrer, Georg. Die Hauptprobleme des Buches Ezechiel. Beiträge zur Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 72. Berlin: Töpelmann, 1952. Ganzel, Tova. “Law in the Prophets.” Oxford Encyclopedia of the Bible and Law 1 (2015): 479–​484. Ganzel, Tova. “Transformation of Pentateuchal Descriptions of Idolatry.” In Transforming Visions: Transformations of Text, Tradition, and Theology in Ezekiel, edited by William A. Tooman and Michael A. Lyons, 33–​49. Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2010. Gertz, Jan C., Bernard M. Levinson, Dalit Rom-​Shiloni, and Konrad Schmid, eds. The Formation of the Pentateuch: Bridging the Academic Cultures of Europe, Israel, and North America. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 111. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016. Gilders, William K. “Priestly Law.” Oxford Encyclopedia of the Bible and Law 2 (2015): 166–​175. Grünwaldt, Klaus. Das Heiligkeitsgesetz Leviticus 17–​26: Ursprüngliche Gestalt, Tradition und Theologie. Beiträge zur Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 271. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1999. Haran, Menahem. Temples and Temple Service in Ancient Israel. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1985. Hossfeld, Frank-​Lothar. “Ezechiel und die deuteronomisch-​deuteronomistische Bewegung.” In Jeremia und die “deuteronomistische Bewegung,” edited by Walter Gross and Dieter Bohler, 272–​277. Bonner Biblische Beiträge 98. Weinheim: Beltz Athenäum, 1995. Joyce, Paul M. Ezekiel: A Commentary. New York: T&T Clark, 2009. Kasher, Rimon. “Anthropomorphism, Holiness and Cult: a New Look at Ezekiel 40–​48.” Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 110, no. 2 (1998): 192–​208. Knohl, Israel. The Sanctuary of Silence: The Priestly Torah and the Holiness School. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1995. Levine, Baruch. “Late Language in the Priestly Source: Some Literary and Historical Observations.” In The Proceedings of the Eighth World Congress of Jewish Studies, 69–​82. Jerusalem: World Union of Jewish Studies, 1983. Levinson, Bernard M., and Jeffrey Stackert. “Between the Covenant Code and Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty: Deuteronomy 13 and the Composition of Deuteronomy.” Journal of Ancient Judaism 3 (2012): 123–​140. Levitt Kohn, Risa. A New Heart and a New Soul: Ezekiel, the Exile and the Torah. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 358. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 2002. Lyons, Michael A. “Extension and Allusion: The Composition of Ezekiel 34.” In Ezekiel: Current Debates and Future Directions, edited by William A. Tooman and Penelope Barter, 138–​152. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 112. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017. Lyons, Michael A. From Law to Prophecy: Ezekiel’s Use of the Holiness Code. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 507. New York: T&T Clark, 2009. Lyons, Michael A. “How Have We Changed? Older and New Arguments about the Relationship between Ezekiel and the Holiness Code.” In Gertz et al., Formation of the Pentateuch, 1055–​1074.

76   Michael A. Lyons MacDonald, Nathan. Priestly Rule: Polemic and Biblical Interpretation in Ezekiel 44. Beiträge zur Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 476. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2015. Milgrom, Jacob. Leviticus 1–​16. Anchor Bible 3. New York: Doubleday, 1991. Milgrom, Jacob, and Daniel I. Block. Ezekiel’s Hope: A Commentary on Ezekiel 38–​48. Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2012. Nihan, Christophe. “Ezekiel and the Holiness Legislation—​A Plea for Nonlinear Models.” In Gertz et al., Formation of the Pentateuch, 1015–​1039. Odell, Margaret S. “You Are What You Eat: Ezekiel and the Scroll.” Journal of Biblical Literature 117, no. 2 (1998): 229–​248. Patton, Corrine L. “Pan-​ Deuteronomism and the Book of Ezekiel.” In Those Elusive Deuteronomists: The Phenomenon of Pan-​Deuteronomism, edited by Linda S. Schearing and Steven L. McKenzie, 200–​215. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 268. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1999. Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit. “Deuteronomic Concepts of Exile Interpreted in Jeremiah and Ezekiel.” In Birkat Shalom: Studies in the Bible, Ancient Near Eastern Literature, and Postbiblical Judaism Presented to Shalom M. Paul on the Occasion of His Seventieth Birthday, edited by Chaim Cohen et al., 101–​123. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2008. Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit. Exclusive Inclusivity: Identity Conflicts Between the Exiles and the People Who Remained (6th–​5th Centuries BCE). Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 543. New York: Bloomsbury, 2013. Schmid, Konrad. “The Prophets after the Law or the Law after the Prophets? Terminological, Biblical, and Historical Perspectives.” In Gertz et al., Formation of the Pentateuch, 841–​850. Sonsino, Rifat. “Forms of Biblical Law.” In Anchor Bible Dictionary, edited by David Noel Freedman, 4:252–​254. New York: Doubleday, 1992. Stevenson, Kalinda Rose. The Vision of Transformation: The Territorial Rhetoric of Ezekiel 40–​ 48. Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series 154. Atlanta: Scholars, 1996. Sweeney, Marvin A. “Ezekiel: Zadokite Priest and Visionary Prophet of the Exile.” In Form and Intertextuality in Prophetic and Apocalyptic Literature, 125–​143. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 45. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005. Wellhausen, Julius. Prolegomena to the History of Israel. Translated by J. Sutherland Black and Allan Menzies. Edinburgh: Adam & Charles Black, 1885. Westbrook, Raymond, and Bruce Wells. Everyday Law in Biblical Israel: An Introduction. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2009. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezekiel 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 1–​24. Translated by Ronald E. Clements. Hermeneia. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979.

Chapter 5

Ezekiel among t h e Prophetic Tra di t i on Anja Klein

The book of Ezekiel has always attracted attention because of its remarkable knowledge of prophetic tradition.1 Already when the prophet is commissioned by Yhwh in Ezek 2:9–​3:3, he is told to eat a scroll, which recalls the prophetic word in Jer 15:16 (“your words were found, and I ate them”). Similarly, many of the prophet’s oracles leave the impression that the materials draw upon what has been prophesied elsewhere.2 Thus, from the beginning of critical research, scholarship on the book of Ezekiel has commented on the book’s rich acquaintance with Old Testament tradition, which earned the prophet the reputation of being an epigone.3 During the history of research, the different models to explain the phenomenon have reflected the respective state of research,4 ranging from the idea of a personal acquaintance between the historical prophets or their sharing in a common prophetic tradition, to ideas of literary dependency, labeling the book an “interpretation of written prophecy”5 or a “compendium.”6 I myself have demonstrated that the phenomenon of biblical interpretation/​innerbiblical exegesis (Schriftauslegung) has had a significant impact on the book’s literary development.7 However, while I think that the argument in most cases supports a model of literary dependency, it should be pointed out that observations of the points of contact between Ezekiel and prophetic tradition remain valid, even if a different model of explanation is assumed. In the following, I will demonstrate that the theology of the book of Ezekiel in all its major topoi proves to be part of an inner-​prophetic discourse that firmly locates the prophet in question among the Israelite prophetic tradition. For this purpose, I have chosen a number of examples that illustrate how both the understanding of the major actors and the prophetic message draw upon literary models that are taken up and interpreted, thus contributing to the book’s productive development. The first part of the argument presents the foundation and introduces the central characters: the people that form the audience of the book; the prophet, who is intermediary between God and his8 people; and the deity Yhwh himself, who dominates the book’s outline with his corresponding actions of departure and return. The second part focuses on

78   Anja Klein the development of divine action in biblical history, following the book’s storyline, which distinguishes between judgment prophecy (chs. 1–​24) and salvation prophecy (chs. 34–​48). In between, as I shall show, stand the treatment of ethics (ch. 18) and the question, how individuals shall behave.

1.  Foundation: The Dramatis Personae 1.1  The Congregation: Divided People and Rebellious House The first issue in the text pertains to the audience to whom Ezekiel has been sent, and how the identity of this audience corresponds to other prophetic books. Scholarship has always noted that the account about the prophet’s commissioning in ­chapters 1–​3 shows a number of doublets. Notably, his commission to the people is reported three times —​each one containing a specific commission. In the first version, 2:3–​7, the prophet is sent to the Israelites (‫ל־בנֵי ִי ְׂש ָראֵ ל‬ ְּ ֶ‫ ׁשוֹלֵחַ אֲ נִי או ְֹת ָך א‬šôlēaḥ ˀnî ˀôṯəḵā ˀelḇənê yiśrāˀēl, v. 3),9 who are further characterized as those who rebelled against Yhwh together with their fathers (‫שר מָ ְרדוּ־בִ י הֵ ּ ָמה וַאֲ בו ֹתָ ם‬ ֶ ׁ ֲ‫ א‬ˀăšer mārəḏû-ḇî hēmmāh waˀăḇôṯām, v. 3). The emphasis is on Ezekiel’s commission to report the divine word to the rebellious people (‫ ּ ֵבית ְמ ִרי הֵ ּ ָמה‬bêṯ mərî hēmmāh, v. 5) so that they shall recognize the prophet among them, whether they hear or refuse to hear (ּ‫ִש ְמעו‬ ְ ׁ ‫וְ הֵ ּ ָמה ִאם־י‬ ‫ וְ ִאם־י ְֶחדָּ ל ּו‬wəhēmmāh ˀîm-yišməˁû ˀîm-yeḥəddalû, v. 5). The second account, 3:4–​9, reads like a continuation of the first version—​but this time the prophet is sent explicitly to the house of Israel (‫ל־בית ִי ְׂש ָראֵ ל‬ ֵ ּ ֶ‫ א‬ˀel-bêṯ yiśrāˀēl, vv. 4, 5). Similar to the prior instance, the people are described as essentially stubborn and unwilling (‫ִח ְזקֵ י־מֵ צַח‬ ‫שי־לֵב הֵ ּ ָמה‬ ֵ ׁ ‫ ו ְּק‬ḥizqê-mēṣaḥ ûqšê-lēḇ hēmmāh, v. 7), and as not wanting to listen to the prophet ( ַ‫ ל ֹא יֹאב ּו לִ ׁ ְשמ ֹע‬lōˀ yōˀḇû lišmōaˁ, v. 7). Finally, in the third commission, 3:10–​15, Ezekiel is sent to the Israelites in exile, more specifically to those exiled in 597 bce together with King Jehoiachin,10 the so-​called first ‫ ּגוֹלָה‬golah, who are identified as Ezekiel’s own people (‫ל־בנֵי עַ ּ ֶמ ָך‬ ְּ ֶ‫ וְ ל ְֵך בּ ֹא אֶ ל־הַ ּגוֹלָה א‬wəlēḵ bōˀ ˀel-haggôlāh ˀel-bənê ˁammeḵā, v. 11). In response to this commission, the prophet later joins the exiles at the Chebar canal; where he sits in their midst (v. 15). If one does not want to interpret the multiple commissioning as a sign of the intensity of the prophetic office,11 it appears as if the prophet is sent to at least two different groups at the beginning of the book: In both 2:3–​7 and 3:4–​9, the prophet is commissioned to an overall people of Israel, who are described in a negative light: the rebellious Israelites in 2:3–​7 and the stubborn house of Israel in 3:4–​9. In the third version, 3:10–​15, however, the prophet is sent exclusively to the exiles and notably, a negative assessment is absent.12 The specific commission to the first golah fits well with the observation that in several texts, the prophetic book seems to align itself with the cause of those exiled in 597 bce. This leads to the working assumption that we ought to distinguish at least two prophetic

Ezekiel among the Prophetic Tradition    79 audiences: the first golah and the rebellious and stubborn house of Israel—​both of which can be shown to draw upon prior theological concepts in prophetic tradition. To start with the championing of the first golah in the book, this phenomenon has been described as “golah-​orientation.”13 First of all, Ezekiel himself is characterized already in the introduction as a member of the first golah, who lives among the exiles in Babylon (‫ וַאֲ נִי בְ תו ְֹך־הַ ּגוֹלָה‬weˀănî ḇəṯôḵ-haggôlāh, 1:1). Furthermore, the internal chronology of the book is oriented towards the exile of King Jehoiachin (‫לְ גָלוּת הַ ּ ֶמל ְֶך יוֹיָכִ ין‬ ləḡolût hammeleḵ yôyāḵîn, 1:2), which in 33:21 and 40:1 is labeled as “our exile” (ּ‫לְ גָלוּתֵ נו‬ ləḡolûṯēnû), internalizing the golah perspective through the narrative. The turning point in the storyline is the news about the fall of Jerusalem that is delivered to the exiles at the hands of a messenger (33:21). As this fall marks the onset of salvation prophecies, one can suggest a divided audience for the golah-​oriented form of the book: While the remaining people in Jerusalem were subject to the lethal divine judgment, 33:21 marks the onset of salvation, which is reserved for the first golah only. This redactional tendency occurs also in the book of Jeremiah, and there is some evidence to suggest that the golah-​oriented texts in the book of Ezekiel draw upon the redaction(s) in Jeremiah and develop this concept.14 The programmatic text for the golah-​oriented redaction in Jeremiah is the vision of the figs in ­chapter 24. In this vision, Yhwh shows the prophet two baskets with figs in front of the temple (v. 1a), which are filled with good and bad figs respectively (v. 2). In an interpretation of the vision, Yhwh relates the good figs (‫ ּ ַכ ְּתאֵ נִים הַ ּט ֹבו ֹת הָ אֵ ּלֶה‬kaṯəˀēnîm haṭṭōḇôṯ hāˀēlleh) to the first golah that he exiled to Babylon for their own good (‫שר‬ ֶ ׁ ֲ‫ּ ֵכן־אַ ִּכיר אֶ ת־ ּגָלוּת יְהו ָּדה א‬ ‫ ׁ ִש ּל ְַח ִּתי ִמן־הַ ּ ָמקו ֹם הַ זֶּה אֶ ֶרץ ּ ַכ ְׂשדִּ ים לְ טו ֹבָ ה‬kēn-ˀakkîr ˀet-golû yəhûdāh ˀăšer šillaḥtî minhammāqôm hazzeh ˀereṣ kaśdîm ləṭôḇāh, v. 5). In contrast, the bad figs are a symbol for the people remaining in the land, who will be abandoned by Yhwh (v. 8) and die upon his judgment (v. 10).15 The vision emphasizes that divine salvation in the future will be directed exclusively at the first golah, and has thus become formative in the book of Jeremiah.16 The designation of this group with the term ‫ ּגָלוּת‬gālûṯ “exile” in verse 5 has further parallels in the book, where it is reserved exclusively for the Israelites exiled together with king Jehoiachin (Jer 24:5; 28:4; 29:22; 40:1; 52:31). While the term is used occasionally in other books,17 only in Ezekiel do we find a comprehensive use, where in the frame narrative the lemma refers consistently to the group exiled in 597 (1:2; 33:21; 40:1). This suggests that the authors in Ezekiel presuppose the concept and theology in the book of Jeremiah, and draw upon the idea as they address the first golah’s concerns and promote its interests. In their book, however, the role of the prophet has changed: whereas the golah-​redaction in the book of Jeremiah has the prophet performing first among those remaining in the land (‫ִשאָ ִרים ָּבאָ ֶרץ‬ ְ ׁ ‫ ְּבתו ְֹך הָ עָ ם הַ ּנ‬bəṯôḵ hāˁām hannišˀārîm bāˀāreṣ, Jer 40:6) before he himself is deported to Egypt, Ezekiel is from the beginning presented as a member of the first golah (‫וַאֲ נִי בְ תו ְֹך־הַ ּגוֹלָה‬, waˀănî ḇəṯôḵhaḡḡôlāh Ezek 1:1). This depiction goes along with a sharp division of the book’s prophecies in its earlier literary form—​reserving salvation for the Israelites who were exiled in 597. However, subsequent Fortschreibungen (continuations) in the book of Ezekiel have leveled this differentiation of the people, and a changed understanding of

80   Anja Klein the audience emerges. This later redactional work is represented by the two further accounts of the prophet’s commissioning in 2:3–​7 and 3:4–​9, both of which have a different background in prophetic tradition. In 2:3–​7, Yhwh sends the prophet to the rebellious Israelites (‫שר מָ ְרדוּ־‬ ֶ ׁ ֲ‫ הַ ּמו ְֹר ִדים א‬18]‫ל־בנֵי ִי ְׂש ָראֵ ל [אֶ ל־ ּגוֹיִם‬ ְּ ֶ‫א‬ ‫ בִ י‬ˀel-bənê yiśrāˀēl [ˀel-gôyim] hammôrəḏîm ˀəšer mārəḏû-ḇî, v. 3), who by their rebellious streak continue their ancestors’ recalcitrance. Yhwh makes clear that, due to this continuing rebellion, the focus of the prophet’s commission is not on whether the audience hears him (ּ‫ִש ְמע ּו וְ ִאם־י ְֶחדָּ לו‬ ְ ׁ ‫ ִאם־י‬ˀīm-yišməˁû wəˀīm-yeḥdālû, v. 5), but on their recognizing that there has been a prophet in their midst (‫ ִּכי נָבִ יא הָ יָה בְ תו ֹכָ ם‬kî nāḇîˀ hāyāh ḇəṯôḵām, ibid.). This idea of the people ties in with the historical reviews in Nehemiah 9 and Daniel 9, both of which highlight the habitual rebellion of the people in biblical history (‫ מרד‬m-​r-​d: Neh 9:26; Dan 9:5, 9). Similar to Ezek 2:3–​7, these accounts anticipate that the prophets sent to the rebellious people will prove unsuccessful; they are killed (Neh 9:26) or not heeded (Dan 9:6).19 The outcome to the prophetic mission in Dan 9:6 ties in also with the second commission in Ezek 3:4–​9, which highlights the unresponsiveness of the house of Israel (‫ ּ ֵבית ִי ְׂש ָראֵ ל‬bêṯ yiśrāˀēl, v. 4).20 Yhwh tells the prophet in advance that the ָ ‫ ל ֹא יֹאב ּו לִ ׁ ְשמ ֹעַ אֵ ל‬lōˀ yōˀbû lišmōaˁ ˀēleyḵā, v. 7), bepeople will not listen to him (‫ֶיך‬ cause they possess a hard forehead and an obstinate heart (‫שי־לֵב הֵ ּ ָמה‬ ֵ ׁ ‫ִחזְקֵ י־מֵ צַח ו ְּק‬ ḥizqê-mēṣaḥ ûqšê-lēb hēmmāh, v. 7).21 These formulations recall first the view on the people in the book of Isaiah, who have chosen to be unresponsive ( ַ‫ וְ ל ֹא אָ בוּא ׁ ְשמו ֹע‬wəlōˀ ˀāḇûˀ šəmôaˁ, 28:12; see also 30:922; 42:24), even though Yhwh has made clear in the prologue of the book that their future salvation in the land is dependent on them being obedient (ּ‫ם־ת ֹאב ּו ו ׁ ְּשמַ עְ ּ ֶתם טוּב הָ אָ ֶרץ ּת ֹאכֵ לו‬ ּ ‫ ִא‬ˀīm-tōˀḇû ûšmaˁəṯem ṭôḇ hāˀāreṣ tōˀḵēlû, 1:19). Yet the idea that the people are physically not able to respond to God’s will recalls Isaiah’s commission to “harden” the people in 6:9–​10.23 However, whereas in the book of Isaiah the hardening of the people is the goal of the prophet’s commission, in Ezekiel this state is the anthropological starting point—​which might be understood as a development of the motif in Isaiah 6. The idea is further developed in the symbolic act of Ezekiel 12, in which the rebellious people (‫ ּ ֵבית־הַ ּ ֶמ ִרי‬bêt-hammerî, v. 2) are described as neither hearing nor listening, even though they are furnished with the necessary organs of perception (12:2: ‎‫שר‬ ֶ ׁ ֲ‫ֹשב א‬ ֵ ׁ ‫אַ ּ ָתה י‬ ‫שמֵ ע ּו‬ ָ ׁ ‫לִראו ֹת וְ ל ֹא ָרא ּו אָ ְז ַניִם לָהֶ ם לִ ׁ ְשמ ֹעַ וְ ל ֹא‬ ְ ‫ עֵ י ַניִם לָהֶ ם‬ˀattāh yōšēḇ ˀăšer ˁênayim lāhem lirˀôṯ ˀ ˀiznayim lāhem lišmōaˁ wəlōˀ šimēˁû, ibid.). While the formulation evokes again Isaiah’s commission in 6:9–​10,24 there is an even closer parallel in the book of Jeremiah, where in 5:21 the prophet addresses the people as those who use neither their eyes nor their ears (ּ‫ִשמָ עו‬ ְ ׁ ‫ עֵ י ַניִם לָהֶ ם וְ ל ֹא י ְִרא ּו אָ ְז ַניִם לָהֶ ם וְ ל ֹא י‬ˁênayim lāhem wəlōˀ yirˀû ˀiznayim lāhem wəlōˀ yišmāˁû). The parallels in formulation and content suggest a “deliberate reapplication”25 of Jer 5:21 in Ezek 12:2, thus adding to the impression that the idea of the people in the book of Ezekiel is highly shaped by prophetic tradition. Whereas in the early stages of the development, the authors in Ezekiel expand on the priority of the first golah, later authors level this differentiation and consider the people as a whole to be rebellious and stubborn, taking their cue from the books of Isaiah and Jeremiah.

Ezekiel among the Prophetic Tradition    81

1.2  The Prophet: Scroll-​Eater, Watchman, and Sign In the book of Ezekiel, the prophetic role is described by different images that are firmly established in prophetic tradition. They all have in common that they reflect the ambivalence of the prophetic office: On the one hand, Ezekiel is depicted in close bond with Yhwh, presenting him as an incarnation of the divine word and a sign of the prophetic message. On the other hand, both the prophet’s address as ‫ ּ ֶבן־אָ ָדם‬ben-ˀāḏām “Son of Man” and his function as a watchman emphasize the prophet’s distance from the deity and his position as intermediary. This ambivalence becomes evident already in the account of the prophet’s commission in 2:9–​3:3, where Ezekiel receives a scroll inscribed with laments. He is instructed to eat the scroll (‫ אֱ כו ֹל אֶ ת־הַ ְּמגִ ּלָה‬ˀĕḵôl ˀeṯ-hamməḡillāh, 3:1), whereupon he describes the taste in his mouth as “sweet as honey” (‫ ִּכ ְדבַ ׁש לְמָ תו ֹק‬kidəḇaš ləmāṯôq, 3:3). This scene ָ ‫נ ְִמצְ א ּו ְדבָ ֶר‬ can be understood as a realization of Jeremiah’s confession in Jer 15:16 (‫יך‬ ‫ ָוא ֹכְ לֵם‬nimṣəˀû ḏəḇāreyḵā wāˀōḵəlēm “your words were found, and I ate them”); already Zimmerli assumed that Ezekiel is influenced here directly by that image.26 This assumption finds further evidence in the scroll’s designation with the noun ‫ ְמגִ ּלָה‬məḡillāh that in Jeremiah consistently names the record of prophetic words in c­ hapter 36.27 The later supplementation of the account in Ezek 3:1 (‫ר־ת ְמצָא אֱ כו ֹל‬ ִּ ‫ש‬ ֶ ׁ ֲ‫ אֵ ת א‬ˀēṯ ˀăšer-timṣāˀ ˀĕḵôl) that with the verb ‫ מצא‬m-ṣ-ˀ again alludes to Jer 15:16, demonstrates that its ancient redactor was well aware of the exegesis and further strengthened the links between the two prophetic texts.28 However, the interpretation in the book of Ezekiel clearly develops the idea of devouring the divine word: Whereas the saying in Jeremiah comes close to an intimate confession, revealing the prophet’s trust in his God, the image in Ezekiel depicts the prophet as a passive recipient, who is fed with the divine word that cannot be changed.29 The image’s emphasis is clearly on the prophet’s submissiveness, as he is reduced to a mere container of the divine message that he must faithfully deliver. However, the almost violent act of incorporation contrasts with a positive perception of the office, when Ezekiel compares the scroll’s taste to the sweetness of honey (3:3). Recalling the understanding in the wisdom tradition of the divine word’s pleasantness (Ps 19:11; 119:103; with regard to the wise word see Prov 16:24; 24:13–​14),30 this perception is not an appreciation of the prophetic message—​which comprises “words of lamentation, mourning and woes” (Ezek 2:10)—​but an expression of the prophet’s appreciation of his commission. It is difficult to decide at what point in the book’s literary growth this part of the vision was added, but Pohlmann rightly points out that the vision fits well with the golah-​oriented commission in 3:10–​15. However, there is no evidence in the vision account 2:9–​3:3 itself that allows for a redactional classification. A further important aspect of Ezekiel’s prophetic office is the double appointment as a watchman for the people (‫ צ ֹפֶ ה‬ṣōp̄eh, 3:17; 33:2, 6, 7) that as “bookends” in 3:16–​ 21 and 33:1–​9 frames the judgment prophecies.31 As part of a divine address, Ezekiel is instructed about his task, whereby 3:17–​19 and 33:7–​9 represent a doublet that most likely has preserved the oldest form of the subject matter.32 Two case examples deal with the responsibility of the divinely appointed watchman, who is tasked with warning the

82   Anja Klein house of Israel about Yhwh (ִ‫ וְ ִהזְהַ ְר ּ ָת או ֹתָ ם ִמ ּ ֶמ ּנ‬wəhizhartā ˀôṯām mimmennî, 3:17; 33:7). In the first example, the prophet does not fulfill his obligation, so that the wicked one has no chance to turn from wickedness (3:18; 33:8), while the second example springs from the assumption that the prophet gives warning, yet the wicked one does not hear (3:19; 33:9). The possibility of return does not factor into these cases, as it is mentioned only in the first example, where, however, it remains a hypothetical option, due to the forborne activity of the prophet. Thus, the variable in this discourse is not the fate of the wicked one, who in both cases must die, but the fate of the prophet: while his life is saved in the second case, because he has fulfilled his duty as watchman (3:19; 33:9), in the first case he is held accountable for the wicked one’s death—​and forfeits his life (3:18; 33:8). A number of texts in the Hebrew Bible mention watchmen. They are depicted as sentries to look out for enemies and warn the people in the case of attack (‫ צ ֹפֶ ה‬ṣōp̄eh, 2 Sam 13:34; 18:24–​27; 2 Kgs 9:17–​18, 20; Isa 52:8). This understanding of the secular office is most likely the model for the idea that the prophet serves as a watchman for the people that is present in the texts in Ezek 3 and 33, and further in Jer 6:16–​17 and Hos 9:8.33 Within this group, the added emphasis on moral exhortation demonstrates a close connection between the texts in Ezekiel and in Jeremiah,34 while in Hos 9:8, the identification of the watchman as prophet can be understood as a later gloss.35 In Jer 6:17, the watchmen are appointed by Yhwh in a futile attempt to provoke the people to repent, after they have already refused to listen to Yhwh himself (6:16). In this light, Ezek 3:17–​ 19 and 33:7–​9 can be understood as an interpretation that draws on the understanding of the prophetic watchman in the book of Jeremiah, but develops the idea with view to the prophet’s responsibility.36 This idea of the prophetic role fits well with the golah-​ oriented edition of the book, as the prophetic watchman has no real function with regard to the audience (the judgment cannot be averted), but the focus is on the prophet’s responsibility. This original version of the watchman-​motif has been supplemented further at both bookends: In Ezekiel 3, a later author adds the two-​case alternative for the righteous one (vv. 20–​21), who in the first case turns from righteousness, commits iniquity, and subsequently dies, as the prophet has neglected his duty to issue a warning (3:20).37 However, in the second case, the prophet dutifully warns the righteous one against sinning, and this one lives to become the case study’s only survivor (3:21). Similarly, in the back frame, the original case is supplemented with a discourse in 33:1–​6 that focuses on the divine judgment on the land. At least with regard to the further expansion of the legal discourse in Ezekiel 3, it can be suggested that this redaction reflects a later stage of the book’s growth, where judgment has been individualized. Finally, two symbolic actions, in 12:1–​16 and 24:15–​24, develop an understanding of the prophetic role in terms of a sign (‫ מו ֹפֵ ת‬môp̄ēṯ, 12:6, 11; 24:24, 27); an image that in different ways draws on prophetic tradition. Proceeding from the redactional differentiation of the people,38 the symbolic act in Ezekiel 24 is the older discourse on the topic, as the scene presupposes a divine judgment on Jerusalem and the temple that will be witnessed by the addressees—​this fits with a golah-​orientation of the original scene.39 The sign act uses the prophetic marriage metaphor and builds on the death of the prophet’s wife, who is

Ezekiel among the Prophetic Tradition    83 ָ ‫ אֶ ת־מַ ְחמַ ד עֵ ינ‬ˀēṯ-maḥmaḏ ˁêneyḵā, v. 16). In the described as “the delight of your eyes” (‫ֶיך‬ same way that the prophet is not allowed to grieve the passing of his wife (v. 17), so will the people have to deal with the desecration of the sanctuary, which is the delight of their eyes (‫ מַ ְחמַ ד עֵ ינֵיכֶ ם‬maḥmaḏ ˁênêḵem, v. 21). Thus, Ezekiel proves himself to be a sign to the people; they shall do just as he has done (24:24: ‫ה‬ ‎‫ש‬ ׂ ָ ָ‫שר־ע‬ ֶ ׁ ֲ‫וְ הָ יָה יְחֶ זְקֵ אל לָכֶ ם לְמו ֹפֵ ת ְּככ ֹל א‬ ̄ ‫ש ּו‬ ׂ ‫ ּ ַת ֲע‬wəhāyāh yəḥezqēˀl lāḵem ləmôpēṯ kəḵōl ˀăšer-ˁāśāh taˁăśû, v. 24; see v. 27). The symbolic act constitutes a paradigm,40 in which the prophet’s suppressed mourning becomes a model for how the people are forbidden to express their shock at the divine judgment on what they hold dear: their temple and capital city. While the closeness of the marriage imagery with the prophetic marriage metaphor in the books of Hosea and Jeremiah has been pointed out,41 two texts in particular represent meaningful parallels to Ezek 24:15–​24 and can be shown to stand in the background. First, two symbolic actions in Jeremiah 16 prefigure the content of Ezekiel 24: first, Jeremiah is advised against starting a family, as they would be killed in the later divine judgment (vv. 1–​4); a second action (vv. 5–​9) contains a general ban of mourning rites in the land, including by the prophet himself.42 Against this background, the act in Ezek 24:15–​24 can be understood as a combination of the two actions in Jeremiah, in which the ban on mourning for a loved one is experienced by the prophet firsthand. Secondly, the idea that Ezekiel thus represents a “sign” for the people (‫ מו ֹפֵ ת‬môp̄ēṯ, vv. 24, 27) interprets the action in Jeremiah with reference to terminology in the book of Isaiah, where that term is first applied to the prophet and his children, who have become signs in Israel (‫ לְ א ֹתו ֹת וּלְמו ֹפְ ִתים‬ləˀōṯôṯ ûləmôp̄əṯîm, 8:18). The same designation recurs in Isa 20:3 in a symbolic action against Egypt and Cush, when the prophet walks naked for three years to demonstrate the shame of the judgment against the foreign nations. Apparently, the author of Ezekiel 24 adopts the specific term from Isaiah and works out the prophetic role with reference to the book of Jeremiah. The prophetic role as a sign is further developed in the symbolic act in Ezek 12:1–​ 16, where Ezekiel shall perform in front of the exiles. In verse 2, the people are again described as a rebellious house (‫ ּ ֵבית־הַ ּ ֶמ ִרי‬bêṯ-hammerî) who use none of their sensory organs—​which suggests some proximity to the later reworkings of the prophet’s commission.43 The prophet is told to make for himself a pack for the exile and set out in front of the people (v. 3). With this act, the prophet proves to be a sign for the house of ָ ‫ ִּכי־מו ֹפֵ ת נְתַ ִּת‬kî-môp̄ēṯ nəṯatîḵā ləḇêṯ yiśrāˀēl, v. 6) in the hope that Israel (‫יך לְבֵ ית ִי ְׂש ָראֵ ל‬ they will see (v. 3). The following scene puts the interpretation into the prophet’s mouth: Ezekiel declares himself to be a sign for the people, as what he has done shall happen to them (‫שה לָהֶ ם‬ ׂ ֶ ָ‫יתי ּ ֵכן יֵע‬ ִ ‫שר עָ ִׂש‬ ֶ ׁ ֲ‫ ּ ַכא‬kaˀăšer ˁāśîṯî kēn yēˁāśeh lāhem, v. 11). Remarkably, the change from the qal-​stem of the verb ‫ עשׂה‬ˁ-ś-h to the niphal-​stem demonstrates that the symbolic act goes beyond mere analogy.44 Rather, the interpretation implies an element of coercion, as the exile is something that is forced upon the people. The idea of the prophet as a “sign” in Ezekiel can thus be understood as an illustration of the specific designation in the book of Isaiah with motifs from the book of Jeremiah, where the ban on mourning is prefigured. By combining these different ideas, the

84   Anja Klein mediator becomes the message itself.45 On the whole, the prophetic office in the book of Ezekiel is a “high-​risk employment”: the prophet embodies the divine message up to self-​abandonment, he is personally liable for the implementation, and his personal life turns into part of his office. Thus, the prophet becomes a model for the people about how to respond to the divine word.46

1.3  The Deity: Yhwh’s Presence in the Sanctuary The image of Yhwh in the book of Ezekiel is mainly shaped by the two visionary accounts about his departure from and return to the sanctuary in ­chapters 8–​11 and 40–​48, which form the framework of the book’s composition.47 Therein, the successive departure of Yhwh’s glory in 9:3; 10:4, 18–​19; 11:22–​23 corresponds to its return in 43:1–​7. Despite several redaction-​critical models of the vision accounts in Ezekiel, open questions remain as to the visions’ relationship and their development. For a long time, Walther Zimmerli’s analysis of the vision accounts as part of his commentary has represented a communis opinio in the field, assigning the departure and return of Yhwh’s glory to the original layer in the passages in question.48 More recently, however, the work by Karl-​Friedrich Pohlmann and Thilo Rudnig has challenged this understanding by assigning the narrated details to a late stage.49 However, notwithstanding the redactional assessment, it is safe to assume that the texts about the departure and return of Yhwh’s glory form a textual network across the two visions.50 The texts narrate first that the glory moves to the threshold of the temple’s house (9:3), which subsequently fills with a cloud (‫ַו ּי ּ ִָמלֵא הַ ַּביִת אֶ ת־הֶ עָ נָן‬ wayyimmālēˀ habbayiṯ ˀet-heˁānān, 10:4). In a gradual departure, the account in 10:18–​19 describes how the glory leaves the temple by the east gate, stopping on the mountain east of the city (11:22–​23). Correspondingly, the vision account in 43:1–​7 reports how Yhwh’s glory enters the new temple from the east (vv. 3–​4), until it fills the house again (‫וְ ִה ּנֵה מָ לֵא‬ ‫ כְ בו ֹד־יְהוָה הַ ָּביִת‬wəhinnēh mālēˀ ḵəḇôḏ-yhwh habbāyiṯ, v. 5). The prophet then hears a voice from within, stating that Yhwh will now reside with the people forever (43:7). In many ways, this depiction of Yhwh’s presence reflects ideas in prophetic tradition. First of all, the notion that Yhwh’s glory (‫ ְּכבו ֹד־יהוה‬ḵəḇôḏ-yhwh) dwells in the sanctuary draws upon a central idea of temple theology that connects the divine presence with the sanctuary on Mount Zion.51 According to this tradition, the presence of Yhwh warrants the protection of city and people alike, while the withdrawal of the deity abandons them to judgment and destruction.52 In particular, the terminology of 10:4 with the verb ‫ מלא‬m-​l-​’ suggests a link with Isa 6:4b (‫שן‬ ָ ׁ ָ‫ וְ הַ ַּביִת י ּ ִָמלֵא ע‬wəhabbayiṯ yimmālēˀ ˁāšān), where the prophet similarly witnesses how the sanctuary is filled with the cloud as a sign that Yhwh interrupts communication with the people and withdraws his protection.53 However, the idea is more developed in the book of Ezekiel, where the deity’s inaccessibility is combined with a horizontal removal of Yhwh from the sanctuary that corresponds to his later return.54 It has long been seen that with this idea, the texts reflect traditions of the ancient Near Eastern context that comprise the departure of the deity from its sanctuary and its

Ezekiel among the Prophetic Tradition    85 re-​entry into the newly-​built temple.55 Most likely, this tradition goes back to the rescue or theft of divine icons before a sanctuary had been destroyed and their subsequent reinstallation.56 It serves as a model of interpretation that can account for a historical situation of crisis, which results in the destruction of city and sanctuary. While the biblical authors in Ezekiel take over the Mesopotamian idea of the horizontal departure of the deity from the sanctuary, they adapt it to the conditions of temple theology in ancient Israel by describing the divine presence with the figure of Yhwh’s glory that fills the sanctuary (Isaiah 6).57 Scholars debate whether the image of the horizontal departure of Yhwh’s glory from the sanctuary in Ezekiel is from the beginning of the literary development connected with the appearance of the divine glory in Babylonian exile (chs. 1–​3).58 Regardless, at some point in the literary development, the texts anticipate that the horizontal movement parallels the movement of the exiled community, connecting the divine presence to that community. This aspect points to the prophecies in the book of Deutero-​Isaiah that similarly draw both on temple theology and the Mesopotamian materials, when the frame texts in Isa 40:1–​9 and 52:7–​10 describe the return of Yhwh’s glory to Zion.59 The associated promise—​that Yhwh will lead his people home from exile—​has been worked out in the book of Ezekiel in a full narrative about Yhwh’s presence among the first golah.60 And while the departure of Yhwh from Jerusalem and his presence among the exiles is a necessary yet unmentioned implication of his return in Deutero-​Isaiah,61 the authors in Ezekiel develop a comprehensive theology of the divine presence that has a double function in the book: The deity’s withdrawal from the sanctuary allows first for an explanation of the historic catastrophe, while the presence of Yhwh’s glory in Babylon secondly affirms the supremacy of the first golah.62 The frame narrative in Ezekiel thus serves as a model for the maintenance of the cultic relationship outside the homeland and provides for the continuation of temple theology, as Yhwh can choose to be a sanctuary to the scattered people “for a little time” (‫ ְמעַ ט‬məˁaṭ, 11:16).

2.  Elaboration: Divine Action in History 2.1  Judgment Prophecy: The Coming End and Adulterous Wives The judgment prophecies in Ezekiel 4–​24 are characterized by a variety of literary genres and the interpretation of different prophetic traditions. In the following, this shall be demonstrated by reference to two examples. The first is ­chapter 7, where the prophet of the book announces the inescapable demise of the land and its inhabitants. The textual history of this chapter is complicated, as several major differences between the Masoretic text and the Greek tradition are evident.63 While it is clear that the present

86   Anja Klein text does not represent a literary unity, it remains difficult to identify its original core.64 Following the introduction in 7:1, the oracle divides into three parts: verses 2–​4, 5–​9, and 10–​27; all of these conclude with a recognition formula.65 The coming end is announced in the first two parts, while the third one transitions to a more detailed description of the end, describing it as a manifestation of the “day of Yhwh.” However, whereas the first part in 7:2–​4 addresses the land of Israel, announcing the end of “the earth” (‫ָּבא‬ ‫ הַ ּ ֵקץ עַ ל־אַ ְר ַּבע ּ ַכנְפו ֹת הָ אָ ֶרץ‬bāˀ haqqēṣ ˁal-ˀarbaˁ kanp̄ôṯ hāˀāreṣ, v. 2), the judgment passage in 7:5–​9 addresses the land’s inhabitants (‫ירה‬ ָ ִ‫ ָּבאָ ה הַ ְ ּצפ‬... ‫קֵ ץ ָּבא ָּבא הַ ּ ֵקץ הֵ ִקיץ אֵ ָלי ְִך‬ ָ ‫ אֵ לֶיך יו ׁ ֵֹשב הָ אָ ֶרץ‬qēṣ bāˀ bāˀ haqqēṣ hēqîṣ ˀēlāyiḵ…bāˀāh haṣṣəp̄îrāh ˀēleyḵā yôšēb hāˀāreṣ, vv. 6–​7). Tentatively, this more confined perspective suggests that this judgment passage comprises part of the original core, which originally included an announcement of the impending end for the people.66 The coming end is succinctly announced in the couplet ‫ ָּבא הַ ּ ֵקץ‬bāˀ haqqēṣ (v. 6ab, see v. 2) that is ambiguous, as the form ‫ ָּבא‬bāˀ can be understood both as a perfect tense and a participle.67 However, both the perfect form (emphasizing the resultative aspect) and the participle (emphasizing the durative aspect) convey the irreversibility of the coming judgement that—​once resolved in Yhwh’s mind—​cannot be halted. There is, for once, unanimous consent among exegetes that the prophecy in Ezekiel 7 quotes from the oracle in Amos 8:2, in which Yhwh decodes the prophet’s vision of the basket of summer fruits (‫ ְּכלוּב קָ יִץ‬kəlûḇ qāyiṣ) as a symbol for the impending end (‫ ָּבא הַ ּ ֵקץ‬bāˀ haqqēṣ).68 The paronomasia on the Hebrew words ‫​קַ יִץ‬/‫ קֵ ץ‬qāyiṣ/qēṣ shows clearly that the judgment threat arises out of the vision content in Amos 8, and is then taken up by the authors in Ezekiel.69 In Ezekiel, the announcement of the final judgment—​which in the context of the book of Amos applies to the northern kingdom of Israel70—​experiences a broad exegesis, making the coming “end” a figure for the destruction of Jerusalem and the land. In its setting in the book, the announcement in Ezekiel 7 has a programmatic function for the whole composition,71 as it closes the initial announcements of the impending judgment in ­chapters 4–​6, and summarizes it under the label of the “coming end” (which the audience would have associated with the prophecy of Amos). In the further course of the book, this threat functions as a leitmotif, demonstrating that the unfolding events are manifestations of the end that is already upon the people (see the recurring use of the verb ‫ בוא‬b-w-ˀ, 21:12, 24–​25; 24:14, 24)—​until its arrival with the reported fall of Jerusalem finally legitimates the prophet (33:33). Although a number of other books in the Hebrew Bible draw on the prophecy of the coming end in Amos 2,72 the exegesis in Ezekiel 7 stands out for its detailed depiction, and for the programmatic function that it has been given in the book’s composition. While the first part of judgment prophecies in Ezekiel 4–​7 focuses on the announcement of the coming end, a series of historical reviews in c­ hapters 16, 20, and 23 provide a reflection on what has led up to it.73 In particular, Ezekiel 16 and 23 match in their use of the prophetic marriage metaphor for the interpretation of biblical history.74 This metaphor uses the idea of marriage between Yhwh and a female figure to describe the relationship between the god of Israel and his people.75 In Ezekiel 16, the narrated events

Ezekiel among the Prophetic Tradition    87 deal with the relationship between Yhwh and Zion-​Jerusalem that begin with Yhwh’s finding an abandoned baby girl, on whom he takes pity (16:4–​7). Once the girl is of age and the “time of love” (‫ עֵ ת דּ ִֹדים‬ˁēṯ dōḏîm, v. 8) has come, he marries her76 and provides her lavishly with clothing and jewelry. Yet the wife, instead of being faithful to her divine husband, engages in extramarital relationships with everyone who passes by (v. 15). The female’s ensuing punishment, described in verses 35–​43, is from the start formulated with reference to her “alleged crimes”: “Because . . . your nakedness was uncovered (‫ו ִַּת ָ ּג‬ ‫ יַעַ ן‬. . . ‫ לֶה עֶ ְרוָתֵ ְך‬yaˁan..wattiggāleh ˁerwāṯēḵ, v. 36) . . . , therefore . . . I will uncover your nakedness to them (‫ֵיתי עֶ ְרוָתֵ ְך אֲ לֵהֶ ם‬ ִ ‫ וְ גִ ּל‬. . . ‎‫ לָכֵ ן‬lāḵēn…wəḡillêṯî ˁerwāṯēḵ ˀălēhem, v. 37).”77 There is some agreement that the specific use of the piel-​stem of the Hebrew verb ‫ גלה‬g-​l-​h “to uncover” in combination with the noun ‫ עֶ ְרוָה‬ˁerwāh “nakedness” denotes sexual intercourse, which in the case of verse 37 is forced on the female figure.78 Thus, in the logic of the text, the female’s sexual involvement with her lovers is the cause for her being sexually violated by her husband. It is obvious that the “extended metaphor” in Ezekiel 16 uses the personification of Zion-​Jerusalem and the metaphorical language as rhetorical devices to justify the destruction of Jerusalem and the ensuing exile as a punishment for the people’s infidelity to their nation’s deity.79 The second historical account in ­chapter 23 applies the marriage metaphor in the same way. This time, however, the metaphor comprises two sister-​wives, namely Oholah and Oholibah, who depict biblical history in the sequence of northern and southern kingdom. The account starts with the adolescence of the two female figures in Egypt, where they get sexually involved with foreigners (vv. 1–​4). The further fate of first Oholah (vv. 5–​10) and then Oholibah (vv. 11–​49) is depicted as a story of continuous adulterous acts with their lovers—​symbolizing the different hegemonic powers of Assyria, Egypt, and Babylonia.80 Comparable with the use of the metaphor in c­ hapter 16, this account describes the punishment of the two women by using imagery of sexual violence: Oholah is exposed to gang-​rape by the hands of her former lovers (ּ‫הֵ ּ ָמה ִּגלּ ו‬ ‫ עֶ ְרוָתָ ּה‬hēmmāh gillû ˁerwāṯāh, v. 10), while in the case of her sister Oholibah, the passive formulation (‫ וְ נִגְ לָה עֶ ְרוַת זְנ ּו ַני ְִך‬wəḡlāh ˁerwaṯ zənûnayiḵ, v. 29) similarly suggests that she is violated by her ex-​lovers on the command of her husband.81 Extensive scholarly contributions have addressed the problematic use of the marriage metaphor in these chapters—​pertaining to their depiction of violence, or their use of fixed gender roles that differ decisively from our present understanding.82 Without being able to render the discussion in full, it should be stressed that these texts are not intended to comment upon or give guidance about either gender or marriage roles.83 Rather, their authors use the marriage metaphor as a literary device to articulate and explain the devastating effect of the events of 722 and 587 bce; they describe the capture of two capital cities and the ensuing exiles in terms of violence against a female figure. Yet this specific application of the marriage metaphor is not unique to the book of Ezekiel; rather, it goes back to prophetic tradition.84 There is some evidence to suggest that the marriage metaphor has its literary origins in the book of Hosea, where c­ hapters 1–​3 use the imagery to describe the relationship between Yhwh and Israel (the people and/​or the land).85 From there, the metaphor has been taken up and developed in other

88   Anja Klein prophetic books. However, the specific use of the Hebrew verb ‫ גלה‬g-​l-​h in Ezek 16 and 23 directs the audience to the prophetic oracles in Jer 13:18–​27.86 Here, the starting point of the literary development is the original oracle in 13:18–​19 that describes the exile of Judah with a double use of the verb ‫ גלה‬g-​l-​h in the hophal stem: “All of Judah has been led into exile, it has been exiled completely” (‫ הָ גְ לָת יְהו ָּדה ּ ֻכ ּל ָּה הָ גְ לָת ׁ ְשלו ִֹמים‬hoḡlāṯ yəhûḏāh kullāh hoḡlāṯ šəlômîm, v. 19). The literary continuation in verses 20–​27*, however, changes to a grammatically feminine singular address, speaking to the personified Zion-​Jerusalem. This continuation takes up the verb ‫ גלה‬g-​l-​h, but in the pual stem, when the divine speaker tells the female that it is because of the abundance of her iniquity that her skirts have been uncovered (‫ ְּבר ֹב ֲעוֹנ ְֵך נִגְ ל ּו ׁש ּו ַלי ְִך‬bərōḇ ˁăwōnēḵ niḡlû šûlayiḵ, v. 22). This uncovering is the prelude to further acts of violation against Zion-​Jerusalem, culminating in violating the female’s “heels” (‫ נ ְֶח ְמס ּו עֲקֵ בָ י ְִך‬neḥməsû ˁăqēḇāyiḵ, ibid.), which is a clear euphemism for sexual violence.87 The key for this exegesis lies in the double meaning of the root ‫ גלה‬g-​l-​h as both “to go into exile” and “to uncover,”88 which is used by the redactor in this continuation to interpret the Babylonian exile with the imagery of sexual violence. Thus, while the authors of Ezekiel 16 and 23 draw upon the wider prophetic tradition, when they refer to the marriage metaphor to interpret biblical history, they can be shown to allude specifically to Jer 13:18–​27. By taking up the wordplay with the verb ‫ גלה‬g-​l-​h, they develop the interpretation of the catastrophe of 587 bce and its aftermaths in the image of sexual violence and extend the marriage metaphor into a historical review.

2.2  Ethics and Responsibility: Ezekiel 18 Already the ancient Near Eastern scholar Jan Assmann referred to Ezekiel 18 as an example of legislation with ethical claims, thus acknowledging ethics in the book of Ezekiel.89 The ethical discourse is, however, embedded in an extended disputation oracle90 that proceeds from the proverb in v. 2 (‫של‬ ָ ׁ ‫ ּ ָמ‬māšāl): “The fathers eat sour grapes, and the teeth of the sons are set on edge” (‫וְש ּנֵי הַ ָּבנִים ִּת ְקהֶ ינָה‬ ִ ׁ ‫ אָ בו ֹת יֹאכְ ל ּו ב ֹסֶ ר‬ˀāḇôṯ yōˀḵəlû ḇōser wəšinnê habbānîm tiqəheynāh, v. 2). This proverb represents a reflective and slightly resigned description of the speakers’ present, which is characterized by a dissolution of the existing system of justice. Their resignation stems from the experience that the connection between deeds and consequences has been split up between two generations,91 resulting in an uncontrollable automatism that cannot be understood anymore as part of a divine order.92 However, this expression of “practical nihilism”93 is refuted in the following divine oracle (vv. 3–​4), in which Yhwh asserts his claim on the sinner, thus emphasizing the functioning of his justice system (v. 4). The point is illustrated further in the subsequent case studies in vv. 5–​20 that demonstrate the effectiveness of the divine order, using the example of a righteous man (vv. 5–​9), his wicked son (vv. 10–​13), and his righteous grandson (vv. 14–​20).94

Ezekiel among the Prophetic Tradition    89 At first glance, the proverb in 18:2 represents an everyday wisdom-​saying circulating in the land that is used to initiate the following casuistic discourse. However, the evidence suggests that the discourse should be interpreted against the trauma of the catastrophe of 587 bce—​the effects of which pushed the boundaries of conventional ideas of responsibility. First, in its present setting in the book, the disputation in Ezekiel 18 stands between ­chapters 17 and 19, both of which deal with the fate of the last kings of Judah.95 The assumption is further strengthened by the proverb itself, which has parallels in Jer 31:29 and Lam 5:7—​both with a similar literary setting in the context of the fall of Jerusalem. Lamentations 5:7 represents a loose parallel, which does, however, formulate the problem in a theological context by stating that the present generation suffers the punishment of their forebears. Of more interest is the prophecy in Jer 31:29 that employs the same generational imagery as Ezek 18:2. The version in Jeremiah differs only slightly in its verb structure and the contextual setting: “In those days, they shall say no more: The fathers have eaten sour grapes and the teeth of the sons are set on edge” (‫ַּב ּי ִָמים‬ ‫וְש ּנֵי בָ נִים ִּת ְקהֶ ינָה‬ ִ ׁ ‫ֹאמר ּו עו ֹד אָ בו ֹת אָ כְ ל ּו ב ֹסֶ ר‬ ְ ‫ הָ הֵ ם ל ֹא־י‬bayyāmîm hāhēn lōˀ-yōˀmərû ˁûḏ ˀāḇôṯ ˀāḵəlû ḇōser wəšinê ḇānîm tiqəheynāh). The use of the perfect tense (ּ‫ אָ כְ לו‬ˀāḵəlû) in place of the imperfect in Ezek 18:2 can be explained as a gnomic perfect that expresses general truths.96 As this usage is common in proverbs, it does not signify a deep semantic difference from the imperfect verb form. More decisive is the verse’s introductory part, which conveys a different objective: whereas the authors in Ezekiel deny the proverb’s validity in a categorical way, the reference to the coming days in Jeremiah shows that its denial is not yet in force; as Paul Joyce comments, it is repudiated “only prospectively as a matter of eschatological hope.”97 Enough similarities abide in Jer 31:29 and Ezek 18:2 to suggest a dependency of some sort and the further parallel in Lam 5:7 could first point to a well-​known saying that was taken up independently in both prophetic books.98 In this construal, the exegesis of the proverb in Ezekiel attests that the authors participated in a wider prophetic discussion about collective and individual responsibility that developed in exilic or rather postexilic times. Alternatively, the different time frame in both prophetic texts might suggest a case of biblical interpretation. On this assumption, priority should be given to the author of Jer 31:29, who accepts the uncontrollable automatism for the present, while Ezek 18:2 is the more advanced text that rejects the proverb’s ethics in general.99 Furthermore, the authors of Ezekiel 18 extend the theological reflection into a comprehensive discourse about how a person can stand before God—​which likewise suggests a later stance.

2.3  Salvation Brings an All-​New: Creation, Exodus, and Covenant In the book of Ezekiel, it is especially the salvation prophecy that locates the prophet firmly among prophetic tradition. Most oracles in Ezekiel 34–​37 can be understood as a

90   Anja Klein productive interpretation of salvation traditions that are merged into a comprehensive idea of the people’s reconstitution.100 The heart of the salvation prophecies in Ezekiel 34–​39 and most likely one of the oldest texts in this part of the book is the so-​called vision of the dry bones in 37:1–​14. The original account in 37:1–​6* describes how the prophet walks around scattered bones on a valley that symbolize the death of the exilic community in Babylon.101 Consequently, the divine promise that Yhwh will bring breath into the bones, so that they will live (‫ ִה ּנֵה אֲ נִי מֵ בִ יא בָ כֶ ם רוּחַ וִ ְחיִיתֶ ם‬hinnēh ˀănî mēḇîˀ ḇāḵem rûaḥ wiḥəyîṯem, v. 5) aims at the restitution of the first golah—​which is elaborated in the prophecies that follow. The motif of corpses left unburied is a powerful image of judgment that is widespread in the ancient Near East and the Hebrew Bible;102 but the text in Ezekiel 37 recalls especially the judgment prophecy in Jer 8:1–​3, where Yhwh announces that the bones of the kings of Judah and of the people in Jerusalem shall be brought out of their tombs (‫ִמ ִּקבְ ֵריהֶ ם‬ miqqiḇrêhem, v. 1) and left exposed to the elements (v. 2). I want to suggest that the literary continuation in the disputation oracle of Ezek 37:11–​14 draws upon that imagery of Jer 8:1–​3 and identifies the bones in the original vision with the remains of Yhwh’s previous judgment. The image of judgment is now reversed by bringing the “house of Israel” (v. 11) up out of their graves (37:12: ‎‫ֵיתי אֶ ְתכֶ ם ִמ ִּקבְ רו ֹתֵ יכֶ ם‬ ִ ‫ וְ הַ ֲעל‬wəhaˁălêṯî ˀeṯḵem miqqiḇrôṯêḵem, v. 12; see v. 13), and by taking them back into their land.103 As the promise of “bringing up” is in verses 12 and 13 formulated using the verb ‫‘ עלה‬-​l-​h in the hiphil stem—​which is a key term of the exodus tradition—​the rescue from symbolic death in exile is at the same time depicted as a new exodus, in which the exiles are led into the new life in the land. The idea of a second or a new exodus is a common prophetic motif, especially in the three major prophetic books.104 The specific formulation demonstrates that the authors in Ezekiel were familiar with this prophetic tradition and used it in their promise of new life to the golah. In later prophetic texts, however, the focus changes from the return of the Babylonian golah to the return of the worldwide diaspora, acknowledging that in the fifth and fourth centuries bce, Jews were still living outside their homeland. The authors in Ezekiel draw upon this prophetic development of the exodus tradition, when the literary continuation of the shepherd chapter in 34:11–​15 and the continuation of the symbolic action in 37:20–​23 provide for gathering and return of Israel scattered among many countries.105 While this evidence shows that Ezekiel participates in general in the literary-​ and theological-​historical development of the prophetic books, a clear case of biblical interpretation exists in the original sequence Ezek 36:16–​22; 39:23–​29*.106 This prophetic oracle goes beyond a mere announcement of the new exodus; rather, it reflects upon the gathering of the diaspora. Starting from the problem that the scattering of Israel into the world hurts Yhwh’s reputation in the eyes of the nations (vv. 20–​22), Yhwh announces that he will gather the people “out of concern for my holy name” (‫שם־קָ ְד ׁ ִשי‬ ֵ ׁ ְ‫ִאם־ל‬ ˀim-ləšēm-qoḏšî, v. 22; see 39:25). This argument proceeds from the assumption that the nations have no insight into the scattering of Israel as a part of Yhwh’s judgment, but perceive of Israel’s present situation as a challenge to his credibility and sovereignty.107

Ezekiel among the Prophetic Tradition    91 Thus, the gathering and return of the diaspora is essential to demonstrate Yhwh’s power and restore the reputation of his holy name. Relying on this argument, the text in Ezekiel comes close to a number of oracles in the book of Deutero-​Isaiah (Isa 43:22–​24; 48:1–​11; 52:4–​6) that focus similarly on the sovereignty of Yhwh’s salvific acts. In particular, the oracle in Isa 52:4–​6 is a likely model:108 Forming a later insertion before the promise of return in vv. 7–​10, its author gives a secondary rationale for the return by asserting that Yhwh will act to prevent further blasphemy of his name among the nations (v. 5). The oracle in Ezek 36:16–​22; 39:23–​29* should thus be understood as a development of the argument in Isaiah. It has a further reception history in Ezekiel, for in c­ hapter 20, upholding the reputation of the divine name becomes the guiding principle of divine action in biblical history.109 In sum, while the idea of a gathering-​and-​return is at first an essential topic of post-​exilic restoration, it is later discussed in its importance for Yhwh’s sovereignty. Turning back to the redaction history of Ezekiel 34–​37, during the further literary growth, the discussion focuses afresh on the idea of a new creation that is now combined with the covenant promise. First, a later reworking of the vision of the dry bones in 37:7–​10 interprets the symbolic restoration of the people in terms of a bodily resurrection, when the prophet witnesses how the bones are reassembled to fully functioning bodies.110 Drawing on the non-​priestly creation account, the recreation takes place in a two-​stage renewal of body and spirit, which mirrors the two-​stage creation of humankind and the significance of the life-​giving spirit in Gen 2:7 (‫ִשמַ ת חַ ּיִים‬ ְ ׁ ‫ַו ּי ּ ִַפח ְּבאַ ּ ָפיו נ‬ wayyippaḥ bəˀappāyw nišmat ḥayîm; see Ezek 37:9: ‫בּ ִֹאי הָ רוּחַ וּפְ ִחי ַּבהֲ רוּגִ ים הָ אֵ ּלֶה וְ י ְִחי ּו‬ bōˀî hārôaḥ ûp̄əḥî bahărûḡîm hāˀēlleh wəyiḥəyû).111 In particular, the recurrence of the verb ‫ נפח‬n-​p-​ḥ establishes an exegetical connection between Gen 2:7 and Ezek 37:9. However, this is not the end of the innerbiblical interpretation of the vision in Ezek 37:1–​14, for the later insertion of 36:23bb–​32(38)112 leads to a new reading perspective on the earlier vision. The insertion of the oracle in ­chapter 36 supplements the salvation promises with the aspect that the people require a renewal of human nature in order to enable them to maintain a relationship with God. This renewal consists in the promise of a new heart and a new spirit (‫שה אֶ ּ ֵתן ְּב ִק ְר ְּבכֶ ם‬ ָ ׁ ‫וְ נָתַ ִּתי לָכֶ ם לֵב חָ ָד ׁש וְ רוּחַ חֲ ָד‬ wənāṯattîn lāḵem lēḇ ḥāḏāš wərûaḥ ḥăḏāšāh ˀettēn bəqirbəḵem, v. 26), which entails replacing the heart of stone with a heart of flesh, and the infusion of Yhwh’s spirit (vv. 26–​27). This anthropological renewal will endow the people with the necessary abilities to be responsive to Yhwh’s covenant. The late promise refers to a number of texts both in Ezekiel and Jeremiah that are taken up and interpreted.113 In particular, the restoration prophecies of the new heart and the new spirit (vv. 26–​27) draw upon the promise of the new covenant in Jer 31:31–​34 (‫שה‬ ָ ׁ ‫ ְּב ִרית חֲ ָד‬bərîṯ ḥăḏāšāh, v. 31).114 The author in Ezekiel takes up the idea that humanity’s interior disposition has to be changed as a prerequisite for their covenant obedience (‫ ְּב ִק ְר ְּבכֶ ם‬bəqirbəḵem, 36:27; see Jer 31:33: ‫ ְּב ִק ְר ָּבם‬bəqirḇām). However, whereas Jeremiah 31 provides for a new use of the heart that is now inscribed with divine ‫ ּתו ָֹרה‬tôrāh “teaching” (31:33‎), Ezekiel 36 provides a more radical perspective on the human—​who only by dint of divine surgical invention becomes able to keep Yhwh’s covenant (v. 27). In the light of this late

92   Anja Klein insertion, the following vision of the bones can be read as a pictorial transformation of the salvation promises in Ezek 36:26–​27.

3.  Ezekiel: Heir of Prophetic Tradition Even though the preceding argument has not attempted a comprehensive analysis of the whole book, the observations allow for some basic conclusions about Ezekiel’s place among the prophetic tradition. Starting with the golah-​orientation and the divided people, the authors in Ezekiel elaborate on an idea of Israel that has been developed in the book of Jeremiah. Addressing originally the historical and ideological split between the first golah and those remaining in the land, the idea remains valid as an image for the reality of biblical Judaism in post-​exilic times. Thus, the authors in Ezekiel develop a theology of the congregation that adheres to the importance of the land, but at the same time develops an identification figure for the worldwide diaspora. The prophetic role offers further potential for identification, as Ezekiel himself is depicted as a member of the exilic community. And since his role is modeled on the prophet-​as-​a-​sign in Isaiah and on the prophetic-​watchman in Jeremiah, he embodies in an exceptional way the prophetic message and demonstrates that it is a matter of life and death—​not only for himself, but more importantly for his audience. In Ezekiel, the radicalism of the prophetic message is reflected also in the image of God. When Yhwh withdraws his presence from the temple and Jerusalem, the book clearly presupposes the pre-​exilic temple theology as present in Isaiah and the Psalms. However, under the influence of ancient Near Eastern materials and the prophecies in Deutero-​Isaiah, temple theology has been reconfigured to fit the conditions of exile, setting the course for biblical Judaism’s later reflections on God’s presence. Turning to the prophetic message itself, the exegesis of Amos 8:2 in Ezekiel 7 demonstrates how the authors in this book draw upon pre-​exilic judgment prophecy—​ and expand the end of the northern kingdom of Israel into an apocalyptic scenario of the coming end. This final judgment provides for the complete demolition of any pre-​exilic identity markers—​and hence Zimmerli’s assessment of the prophet is still valid: “In his entire ministry, this prophet is a figure who takes the message of judgment proclaimed by the pre-​exilic literary prophets and crowns their work by expressing it in the most uncompromising terms”.115 A further feature of judgment prophecy in the book is the extensive reflection on the punishment in lengthy historical reviews that give a normative interpretation of biblical history. I have demonstrated that in two of these chapters, 16 and 23, the authors take up the marriage metaphor from the books of Hosea and Jeremiah in order to interpret biblical history. This metaphor from everyday life serves to interpret the historical fall of Jerusalem as a divine judgment and to express its traumatic impact upon the audience. When faced with this apocalyptic view of the pending end, the discourse in Ezekiel 18 addresses how the individual should behave. Distancing themselves from the

Ezekiel among the Prophetic Tradition    93 interpretation of the national catastrophe in Jeremiah, the authors in Ezekiel emphasize that Yhwh’s justice system is functioning and in order. Thus, the interpretation of biblical history leads into a discussion of ethics, emphasizing that judgment and salvation—​ hence death and life—​are dependent upon the individual’s conduct. A human’s past does not entrench their present; a belief that also relativizes the radical nature of the judgment announced in the first part of the book. That Yhwh is a God who wants life is finally demonstrated in the salvation prophecies. First, the numerous prior references to prophetic tradition demonstrate that salvation in this book amounts to a profound new ordering of creation. A major discussion partner is again the prophecy in Jeremiah, but a theological twist is taken from Deutero-​Isaiah, when the authors in Ezekiel emphasize that Yhwh has a distinct self-​interest in the restoration of Israel, as his reputation among the nations is at stake. Finally, amounting to an anthology of prophetic tradition, the late insertion in 36:23bb–​32(38)116 complements the exterior restoration of the people with an interior renovation. Taking a more radical path than Jeremiah 31, a new design for the heart is not sufficient anymore; rather, heart and spirit need to be replaced in order to enable the people to enter into a covenant relationship with God. With this new covenant, prophecy in Ezekiel surpasses the claim of ethics, as the obedience demanded in Ezekiel 18 becomes a divine gift. Humankind does not have to strive anymore after a life agreeable to God, but Yhwh has bestowed covenant obedience into them as second nature. To sum up, the book of Ezekiel proves to be part of an inner-​prophetic discourse that firmly locates Ezekiel as an heir to the prophetic tradition. Or, to quote Reinhard Kratz: “The book is a kind of Midrash; in other words, it is an interpretation of written prophecy in the form of prophecy, and as such it is a repository for later Jewish apocalypticism and mysticism.”117

Notes 1. A draft of this paper was presented to Reinhard G. Kratz on the occasion of his 60th birthday, in 2017 in Göttingen; may he enjoy the final form. 2. Reinhard G. Kratz, The Prophets of Israel (Critical Studies in the Hebrew Bible 2; Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2015), 62: “On the whole, the book leaves the impression that one has already read or heard everything elsewhere.” 3. See Julius Wellhausen, Prolegomena to the History of Ancient Israel (Gloucester, MA: Peter Smith, 1973), 403: “He [Ezekiel] also . . . calls the pre-​exilic prophets the old prophets, conscious that he himself belongs to the epigoni.” 4. On the history of research see the reviews of scholarship in Walther Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 1–​24 (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979), 41–​52; Paul Joyce, Ezekiel: A Commentary (The Library of Hebrew Bible/​ Old Testament Studies 482; London: T&T Clark, 2007), 33–​41; Anja Klein, Schriftauslegung im Ezechielbuch: Redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zu Ez 34–​39 (Beihefte für die Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 391; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2008), 17–​23, and Karl-​Friedrich Pohlmann, Ezechiel: Der Stand der theologischen Diskussion (Darmstadt: WBG, 2008).

94   Anja Klein 5. Kratz, Prophets of Israel, 63. 6. Karin Schöpflin, Theologie als Biographie im Ezechielbuch: Ein Beitrag zur Konzeption alttestamentlicher Theologie ( Forschungen zum Alten Testament 36; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), 358. 7. See Klein, Schriftauslegung, esp. 349–​408. 8. Following the conventions in Biblical Hebrew, this article uses masculine pronouns and verbs for God/​Yhwh—​without, however, making a statement about God’s being male. On the complex discussion of a “gendered” deity, see already Phyllis Trible, “Depatriarchalizing in Biblical Interpretation,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 41 (1973): 30–​48; for a case study starting from a discussion of the state of research, see Hanne Løland, Silent or Salient Gender? The Interpretation of Gendered God-​ Language in the Hebrew Bible, Exemplified in Isaiah 42, 46 and 49 (Forschungen zum Alten Testament 2/​32, Mohr Siebeck: Tübingen, 2008). 9. The Septuagint (LXX) reads πρὸς τὸν οἶκον τοῦ Ισραηλ (“to the house of Israel”), which can, however be explained as an assimilation to the dominant use of “house of Israel” in the following divine speech; see Daniel I. Block, The Book of Ezekiel: Chapters 1–​24 (The New International Commentary on the Old Testament; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997), 115; differently Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 89; Leslie C. Allen, Ezekiel 1–​19 (World Biblical Commentary 28; Word Books: Dallas, 1994), 10. 10. King Jehoiachin reigned for only three months in 598–​597 bce, before he was exiled by the Babylonian king Nebuchadrezzar; see J. Maxwell Miller and John H. Hayes, A History of Ancient Israel and Judah, 2nd ed. (London: SCM, 2006), 468. 11. Thus Block, Ezekiel 1–​24, 131. 12. See already Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 138, who points out: “Lastly we may raise the question whether it is more than accidental that the words “for they are a rebellious house,” which appear so strongly in the sending to Israel (2:5–​8; 3:9), are not repeated in the sending to the exiles”; see further Gustav Hölscher, Hesekiel : Der Dichter und das Buch: Eine literarkritische Untersuchung (Gießen: Töpelmann, 1924), 50. 13. The term and concept were developed by Karl-​Friedrich Pohlmann in his work on the book of Jeremiah (Studien zum Jeremiabuch: Ein Beitrag zur Frage nach der Entstehung des Jeremiabuches [Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments 118; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1978], 183–​191); see further Christopher R. Seitz, Theology in Conflict: Reactions to the Exile in the Book of Jeremiah (Beihefte für die Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 176; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1989). Later, Pohlmann identified a similar redaction in the book of Ezekiel; Ezechielstudien: Zur Redaktionsgeschichte des Buches und zur Frage nach den ältesten Texten (Beihefte für die Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 202; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1992), 120–​131; see further Thomas Krüger, Geschichtskonzepte im Ezechielbuch (Beihefte für die Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 180; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1989), esp. 318–​324. 14. Thus Klein, Schriftauslegung, 399–​406. 15. See the exegesis by Robert P. Carroll, Jeremiah: A Commentary (Old Testament Library; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1986), 483. 16. See Pohlmann, Studien, 26, 183–​185; similarly, Carroll, Jeremiah, 486–​488, points out that the claim in favor of the descendants of Jehoiachin’s deportation is “propaganda on behalf of one group and [Jeremiah 24] is therefore a partisan statement,” ibid., 482; see further Christoph Levin, Die Verheißung des neuen Bundes in ihrem theologiegeschichtlichen

Ezekiel among the Prophetic Tradition    95 Zusammenhang ausgelegt (Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments 137; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1985), 165–​ 168, and Konrad Schmid, Buchgestalten des Jeremiabuches : Untersuchungen zur Redaktions-​ und Rezeptionsgeschichte von Jer 30–​ 33 im Kontext des Buches (Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament 72; Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1996), 255–​269. 17. See 2 Kgs 25:27; Isa 20:4; 45:13; Amos 1:6, 9, Obad 1:20. 18. The phrase ‫ אֶ ל־ ּגוֹיִם‬ˀel-haggôyim is missing in the ancient versions, suggesting a later gloss in the Masoretic text; see Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 89; similarly Allen, Ezekiel 1–​19, 10. 19. See Odil H. Steck, Israel und das gewaltsame Geschick der Propheten (Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament 23; Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1967), 73, 77–​80, who describes this idea of the prophet as admonisher and alerter in biblical history as a deuteronomistic understanding of prophets; see further Karl-​ Friedrich Pohlmann, Der Prophet Hesekiel/​Ezechiel: Kapitel 1–​19 (Altes Testament Deutsch 22,1; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1996), 64–​65. 20. See Daniel I. Block, The Book of Ezekiel: Chapters 1–​ 24 (The New International Commentary on the Old Testament; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997), 128. 21. This reproach has a close parallel in Ezek 2:4 (‫שי פָ נִים וְ ִחזְקֵ י־לֵב אֲ נִי ׁשוֹלֵחַ או ְֹת ָך‬ ֵ ׁ ‫וְ הַ ָּבנִים ְק‬ ‫ אֲ לֵיהֶ ם‬wəhabbānîm qəšê p̄ānîm wəḥizqê-lēḇ ˀănî šôlēaḥ ˀôṯəḵā ˀălêhem); however, given that the phrase is missing in the LXX, it can be assumed that it constitutes a later supplementation, matching 2:4 with the description of the people in 3:7–​8; on the secondary character of the part-​verse 2:4, see Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 90; differently Block, Ezekiel 1–​ 24, 116. 22. Isa 30:9 combines this characterization with the reproach of being a rebellious people (ּ‫כי עַ ם ְמ ִרי הו‬, ִּ ḵî ˁam mərî hûˀ), which reminds one of Ezek 2:3–​7; see further Ezek 2:8, 9 and 3:26, 27. 23. On this connection, see Schöpflin, Theologie, 155. 24. See Allen, Ezekiel 1–​19, 178. 25. Thus Allen, Ezekiel 1–​19, 178; see further Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 270; Block, Ezekiel 1–​24, 368, and more tentatively Moshe Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20 (Anchor Bible 22; New York: Doubleday, 1983), 208. 26. See Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 136; on the connection to Jer 15:16, see also Dieter Vieweger, Die literarischen Beziehungen zwischen den Büchern Jeremia und Ezechiel (Beiträge zur Erforschung des Alten Testaments und des Antiken Judentums 6; Frankfurt a.M.: Peter Lang, 1993), 75; Allen, Ezekiel 1–​19, 40; Block, Ezekiel 1–​24, 126; Joyce, Ezekiel, 79. 27. Beyond the books of Jeremiah and Ezekiel, the term ‫ ְמגִ ּלָה‬məḡillāh occurs only in Ps 40:8 and the vision in Zech 5:1, 2—​a relative paucity that strengthens the links between the two prophetic works. 28. This part of the verse in Ezek 3:1 is not attested in the major LXX manuscripts, which is strong evidence for a later addition, see Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 92, and Allen, Ezekiel 1–​19, 12; differently Block, Ezekiel 1–​24, 123, who acknowledges the link with Jer 15:16, but considers the phrase part of an original “abba chiastic structure.” 29. See Schöpflin, Theologie, 167, and Joyce, Ezekiel, 79. 30. On this connection, see Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 136; Joyce, Ezekiel, 79. 31. Paul Joyce, Divine Initiative and Human Response in Ezekiel (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 51; Sheffield: Journal for the Study of the Old Testament, 1989), 144.

96   Anja Klein 32. On this assessment, see Schöpflin, Theologie, 193. 33. Thus Georg Steins, “‫צפה‬,” in Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament (TDOT), ed. G. Johannes Botterweck, Helmer Ringgren, and Heinz-​Josef Fabry; trans. David E. Green, Douglas W. Stott, and Mark E. Biddle, 12:429–​435, here 432–​433. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2003. 34. See also Hendrik Leene, “Blowing the Same Shofar: An Intertextual Comparison of Representation of the Prophetic Role in Jeremiah and Ezekiel,” in The Elusive Prophet: The Prophet as a Historical Person, Literary Character and Anonymous Artist, ed. Johannes C. De Moor (Old Testament Studies 45; Leiden: Brill, 2001), 175–​198, 190. 35. See the analysis of Hans W. Wolff, Dodekapropheton I: Hosea (Biblischer Kommentar 16/​1; Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1961), 201–​203. 36. On this direction of dependency, see Allen, Ezekiel 1–​19, 58; Schöpflin, Theologie, 194; differently Leene, “Blowing,” 190–​192, who argues for the priority of Ezekiel 33, while Block, Ezekiel 1–​24, 148, suggests that prophecies of the historical prophet Jeremiah reached Ezekiel in Babylon. Differently, Vieweger, Beziehungen, 126–​127, argues against a literary dependency, as the similarities between Jer 6:17 and the texts in Ezekiel could be deduced from generic prophetic tradition. 37. The mention of the “stumbling block” in 3:20 (‫)מכְ ׁשו ֹל‬ ִ has a parallel in Jer 6:21, thus representing a further link with the watchman topic in the book of Jeremiah, see Allen, Ezekiel 1–​19, 49. 38. See chapter by Sweeney in this volume. 39. On the golah-​ oriented character of Ezek 24*, see Karl-​ Friedrich Pohlmann, Ezechielstudien, 11–​34. 40. See Block, Ezekiel 1–​24, 791–​794. 41. See, e.g., Moshe Greenberg, Ezekiel 21–​37: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (Anchor Bible 22A; New York: Doubleday, 1997), 515, also Schöpflin, Theologie, 333. Yet Schöpflin’s idea—​that there is a direct application of the prophetic marriage metaphor in Ezekiel 24 (with the prophet symbolizing Yhwh’s merciless judgment)—​ neglects the text’s own interpretation in 24:24 and fails to explain how Yhwh can be both symbolized by the prophet and appearing as the one who takes the wife away (24:16), see Schöpflin, Theologie, 332–​335. On the use of the marriage metaphor, see further chapter by Bodi in this volume. 42. On the links of Ezekiel 24 with Jeremiah 16, see already George A. Cooke, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Book of Ezekiel (International Critical Commentary; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1936), 270; Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 506; Leslie Allen, Ezekiel 20–​48 (World Biblical Commentary 29; Dallas: Word Books, 1990); Schöpflin, Theologie, 335. 43. See Pohlmann, Ezechiel, 1–​19, 173–​174, who assumes that the symbolic act in Ezekiel 12 is intended to reverse the primacy of the first golah. On the audience in Ezekiel 12, see also ­chapter 2.1 by Sweeney in this volume. 44. Thus Schöpflin, Theologie, 229 (“Analogiegeschehen”). 45. So Block, Ezekiel 1–​24, 370: “The medium has become the message.” 46. See Ellen F. Davis, Swallowing the Scroll: Textuality and the Dynamics of Discourse in Ezekiel’s Prophecy (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 21; Sheffield: Almond, 1989), 83–​84. 47. Thus Kratz, Prophets of Israel, 61. 48. With regard to the redaction historical analysis of Ezekiel 8–​11, see the summary in Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 230–​ 234; and with regard to Ezekiel 40–​ 48, see Zimmerli, Ezekiel 2, 547–​553. More recently, Janina Maria Hiebel’s redactional study on the vision

Ezekiel among the Prophetic Tradition    97 accounts agrees with Zimmerli in classing the corresponding accounts of Yhwh’s departure and return as part of the original texts; Ezekiel’s Vision Accounts as Interrelated Narratives: A Redaction-​Critical and Theological Study (Beihefte für die Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 475; Berlin: deGruyter, 2015). 49. See Pohlmann, Ezechiel 1–​19, 128–​134; Karl-​Friedrich Pohlmann (with a contribution by Thilo Alexander Rudnig), Das Buch des Propheten Hesekiel/​Ezechiel: Kapitel 20–​48 (Altes Testament Deutsch 22/​2; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2001), 527–​539, and Thilo Rudnig, Heilig und Profan: Redaktionskritische Studien zu Ez 40–​48 (Beihefte für die Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 287; Berlin: deGruyter, 2000), 343–​374. According to Rudnig, Heilig, 83–​93, Ezekiel 40–​48* originally contains only a short note about the presence of Yhwh in the new sanctuary in 43:6a, 7a. 50. Thus Rudnig, Heilig, 92, see also Christina Ehring, Die Rückkehr Yhwhs : Traditions-​und religionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zu Jesaja 40,1–​11, Jesaja 52,7–​10 und verwandten Texten (Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament 116; Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2007), 191. 51. See Tryggve N. D. Mettinger, The Dethronement of Sabaoth: Studies in the Shem and Kabod Theologie (Coniectanea Biblica. Old Testament series 18; Lund: CWK Gleerup, 1982), 108–​111. 52. On this tradition-​historical background, see Ehring, Rückkehr, 192–​193. 53. On the link between Ezek 10:4 and Isa 6:4b against the backdrop of temple theology, see Friedhelm Hartenstein, Die Unzugänglichkeit Gottes im Heiligtum: Jesaja 6 und der Wohnort Yhwhs in der Jerusalemer Kulttradition (Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament 75; Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1997), 140–​144. 54. See Ehring, Rückkehr, 194. 55. See the study by Daniel I. Block, who analyses the so-​ called Motif of Divine Abandonment in a number of ancient Near Eastern Texts, arguing that the book of Ezekiel “bears some relationship to the Mesopotamian literary context in which the prophet finds himself.” The Gods of the Nations: Studies in Ancient Near Eastern National Theology (ETS Monograph Series 2; Jackson, MS: Evangelical Theological Society, 1988), 160. With regard to the Akkadian poem of Erra in particular, Daniel Bodi demonstrates that the texts in Ezekiel are drawing upon its motifs, most notably the theme of the “Absence of the Divinity”; The Book of Ezekiel and the Poem of Erra (Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 104; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1991), 191–​218. John Kutsko similarly analyses the paradox of the deity’s presence and absence in Ezekiel against the backdrop of the Mesopotamian materials, but he argues for a biblical “parody” of these traditions; Between Heaven and Earth: Divine Presence and Absence in the Book of Ezekiel (Biblical and Judaic Studies from the University of California, San Diego 77, Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2000). For a critical assessment of these studies, see Ehring, Rückkehr, 195–​203. 56. Thus Rudnig, Heilig, 93, similarly Ehring, Rückkehr, 201–​202. 57. Thus Ehring, Rückkehr, 203. 58. On this discussion, see Rudnig, Heilig, 88–​93; and Ehring, Rückkehr, 192–​193. 59. For a full discussion, see Ehring, Rückkehr. 60. See Klein, Schriftauslegung, 404–​406. Dieter Baltzer undertook a detailed comparison between the accounts of Yhwh’s return in Ezekiel and Deutero-​Isaiah—​without, however assessing a possible relationship between the two prophetic books; Ezechiel und Deuterojesaja: Berührungen in der Heilserwartung der beiden großen Exilspropheten

98   Anja Klein (Beihefte für die Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 121; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1971), 60–​72. 61. See Reinhard G. Kratz, Kyros im Deuterojesaja-​ Buch: Redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zu Entstehung und Theologie von Jes 40–​55 (Forschungen zum Alten Testament 1; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1991), 155. 62. Similarly Kutsko, Between Heaven and Earth, 99: “The absence of God from the Temple (the removal of the divine kābôḏ) is both theodicy and theophany: it allows the presence of God to be associated with Israel in exile.” 63. On the textual problems of Ezekiel 7, see Johan Lust, “The Use of Textual Witnesses for the Establishment of the Text: The Shorter and Longer Texts of Ezekiel,” in Ezekiel and his Book: Textual and Literary Criticism and their Interrelation, ed. Johan Lust (Bibliotheca Ephemeridum theologicarum Lovaniensium 74; Leuven: University Press, 1986), 7–​20; and Pierre-​Maurice Bogaert, “Les deux rédactions conserves (LXX et MT) d’Ézéchiel 7,” in Ezekiel and his Book: Textual and Literary Criticism and their Interrelation, ed. Johan Lust (Bibliotheca Ephemeridum theologicarum Lovaniensium 74; Leuven: University Press, 1986), 21–​47. 64. On a more detailed assessment and the development of my argument see Anja Klein, “’Das Ende kommt’ –​Textgeschichte, Redaktion und literarische Horizonte in Ez 7:1–​12a” in Das Buch Ezechiel: Komposition, Redaktion und Rezeption, ed. Jan C. Gertz, Corinna Körting, and Markus Witte (Beihefte für die Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 516, Berlin: de Gruyter, 2020), 63–​88. 65. On this tripartite structure, see Allen, Ezekiel 1–​19, 103–​106, and Block, Ezekiel 1–​24, 239–​ 240; similarly, Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 201–​202; Pohlmann, Ezechiel 1–​19, 113–​122. 66. I now think that the manuscript evidence suggests that the original core of the chapter is present in MT 7:6ab(9​–7.)‫ ;בא הקץ‬see Klein, “Das Ende kommt”. Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 201–​ 202, argues for an original oracle in 7:2–​4, 5a, 6aa, and 10–​27, whereas Pohlmann, Ezechiel 1–​19, 110–​117, assumes an older version that comprises 7:6–​7, 14–​19a, 25–​27. 67. A perfect tense is suggested by Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1–​24, 194, and Block, Ezekiel 1–​24, 247; while Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20, 142 and Allen, Ezekiel 1–​19, 97, render as a participle. The LXX translates the Hebrew form as an indicative present (ἥκει τὸ πέρας). 68. The exegesis from Amos 8:2 in Ezekiel 7 is noted, e.g., by Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 203; Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20, 147; Francis I. Andersen and David N. Freedman, Amos: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (Anchor Bible 24A; New York: Doubleday, 1989), 797; Allen, Ezekiel 1–​19, 107; Block, Ezekiel 1–​24, 248–​249; Schöpflin, Theologie, 253; and Joyce, Ezekiel, 36. 69. In Ezek 7:6, rendering the phrase ‫ הֵ ִקיץ אֵ ָלי ְִך‬hēqîṣ ˀēlāyiḵ as “the end is ripe for you”—​i.e., as evoking the noun ‫ קַ יִץ‬qayiṣ “ripe summer fruit”—​further serves to strengthen the links to the prophecy in Amos 8:2 (see Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20, 148). 70. See Hans W. Wolff, Dodekapropheton 2: Joel und Amos (Biblischer Kommentar 14/​2; Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1969), 368; and Shalom M. Paul, Amos: A Commentary on the Book of Amos (Hermeneia; Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1991), 253–​255; differently Andersen and Freedman, Amos, 631–​638. 71. On the programmatic function of Ezekiel 7, see Schöpflin, Theologie, 249, 254. 72. See Jer 51:13 and chapters by Launderville and Wilson; cf. Gen 6:13 and Lam 4:18. 73. These chapters have been studied together in Krüger, Geschichtskonzepte. 74. On the use of the marriage metaphor in Ezekiel 16 and 23, see “Uncovering the Nymphomaniac –​ the Verb ‫ גלה‬and Exile as Sexual Violence in Ezek 16 and 23,” in Images of Exile in the Prophetic Literature, ed. Jesper Høgenhaven, Frederik Poulsen, and Cian

Ezekiel among the Prophetic Tradition    99 Power (Forschungen zum Alten Testament II/​103; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2019), 167–​186. 75. On the term and concept, see the monograph by Gerlinde Baumann, Love and Violence: Marriage as Metaphor for the Relationship between Yhwh and Israel in the Prophetic Books (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2003). 76. The Hebrew text of Ezek 16:8 implies that the male character takes the grown-​up woman to be his wife and most likely consummates the marriage. See Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 229; Allen, Ezekiel 1–​19, 238; Block, Ezekiel 1–​24, 482–​483; and Linda Day, “Rhetoric and Domestic Violence in Ezekiel 16,” Biblical Interpretation 8 (2000): 205–​230, 208. 77. See Klein, “Uncovering.” 78. On this general understanding, see Lev 18:6–​19; 20:11, 17–​21; on the interpretation of Ezek 16:37 in terms of sexual violence, see Mary E. Shields, “Multiple Exposures: Body Rhetoric and Gender Characterization in Ezekiel 16,” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 15 (1998): 5–​18, 15–​16; Baumann, Love, 154–​155; and Klein, “Uncovering.” 79. Shields, “Multiple Exposures,” 5; on this genre classification, see further Allen, Ezekiel 1–​ 19, 233; Julie Galambush, Jerusalem in the Book of Ezekiel: The City as Yahweh’s Wife (SBL Dissertation Series 130; Atlanta: Scholars, 1992), 11; and Day, “Violence,” 205. 80. There is some agreement that the original account of the chapter comprises 23:1–​27, with later additions in 23:28–​49; see the analyses by Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 480–​481; Allen, Ezekiel 20–​48, 45–​48, and Karl-​Friedrich Pohlmann, Der Prophet Hesekiel/​Ezechiel: Kapitel 20–​48 (Altes Testament Deutsch 22,2; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2001), 336–​340. 81. See Klein, “Uncovering.” 82. See Klein, “Uncovering.” On the discussion, see the review of scholarship in Baumann, Love, 5–​26; with regard to the texts in Ezekiel, see Fokkelien van Dijk-​Hemmes, “The Metaphorization of Woman in Prophetic Speech: An Analysis of Ezekiel XXIII,” Vetus Testamentum 43 (1993): 162–​170; Katheryn Pfisterer Darr, “Ezekiel’s Justifications of God: Teaching Troubling Texts,” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 55 (1992): 97–​117; and F. Rachel Magdalene, “Ancient Near Eastern Treaty-​Curses and the Ultimate Texts of Terror: A Study of the Language of Divine Sexual Abuse in the Prophetic Corpus,” in The Feminist Companion to the Latter Prophets, ed. Athalya Brenner (Feminist Companion to the Bible 8; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1995), 326–​352, 349–​352. 83. Klein, “Uncovering.” 84. See, in general, Baumann, Love; and Mark Wischnowsky, Tochter Zion: Aufnahme und Überwindung der Stadtklage in den Prophetenschriften des Alten Testaments (Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament 89; Neukirchen-​ Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2001). 85. See van Dijk-​Hemmes, “Metaphorization,” 167–​168; Wischnowsky, Tochter Zion, 101–​111, and Baumann, Love, 85–​104. 86. On a detailed analysis of Jer 13:18–​27 and the links with Ezek 16; 23 see Klein, “Uncovering.” 87. See Klein, “Uncovering.” On the “heels” (‫ עָ קֵ ב‬ˁāqēḇ) as a euphemism for the (female) genitals, see Hans-​Jürgen Zobel, “‫עקב‬,” in Botterweck, Ringgren, and Fabry, Theological Dictionary, 11:315–​320, here 316–​317; Baumann, Love, 119–​120. 88. See Klein, “Uncovering”; on the double meaning of ‫ הלג‬g-​l-​h, see in detail Jörn Kiefer, Exil und Diaspora: Begrifflichkeit und Deutungen im Antiken Judentum und in der Hebräischen Bibel (Arbeiten zur Bibel und ihrer Geschichte 19; Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2005), 115–​118; see further Claus Westermann and Rainer Albertz, “‫הלג‬,” in Theological Lexicon of the Old Testament (TLOT), ed. Ernst Jenni and Claus Westermann, and trans. Mark E. Biddle (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1997), 314–​320, here 314–​315; Hans-​Jürgen

100   Anja Klein Zobel, “‫הלג‬,” in Botterweck, Ringgren, and Fabry, Theological Dictionary, 2:476–​488, here 477; Baumann, Love, 46–​52. 89. See Jan Assmann, Ma‘at: Gerechtigkeit und Unsterblichkeit im Alten Ägypten (München: C.H. Beck, 2006), 149. 90. On this genre allocation, see Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 374–​375; Allen, Ezekiel 1–​19, 267–​277; Block, Ezekiel 1–​24, 554–​557; Pohlmann, Ezechiel 1–​19, 260, 262; Casey A. Strine, “The Role of Repentance in the Book of Ezekiel: A Second Chance for the Second Generation,” Journal of Theological Studies 63 (2012): 469–​492, here 474. 91. Thus Nelson Kilpp, “Eine frühe Interpretation der Katastrophe von 587,” Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 97 (1985): 210–​220, here 217; similarly Allen, Ezekiel 1–​19, 281: “[a]‌slogan about a skewed pattern of cause and effect.” 92. Pohlmann, Ezekiel 1–​19, 262–​265. 93. Allen, Ezekiel 1–​19, 271. 94. The last section of the chapter in Ezek 18:21–​31 represents a later supplementation that replaces the problem of the cross-​generational nexus with the question of repentance; see Pohlmann, Ezechiel 1–​19, 260–​261; similarly Kilpp, “Interpretation,” 212. 95. Similarly already Gustav Hölscher, Der Dichter und das Buch: Eine literarkritische Untersuchung (Gießen: Alfred Töpelmann, 1924), 103–​104; and Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 377. 96. On the use of the gnomic perfect, see Gesenius’ Hebrew Grammar, 2nd English ed., trans. A. E. Cowley (Oxford: Clarendon, 1910), §§ 107f, 106k; Galia Hatav, “Gnomic Perfect,” in Encyclopedia of Hebrew Language and Linguistics, ed. Geoffrey Khan (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2013), 2:69; see further Paul Joüon, A Grammar of Biblical Hebrew, rev. ed., trans. and rev. T. Muraoka (Subsidia Biblica 27; Rome: Editrice Pontificio Istituto Biblico, 2006), 333; John A. Cook, Time and the Biblical Hebrew Verb: The Expression of Tense, Aspect and Modality in Biblical Hebrew (Linguistic Studies in Ancient West Semitic 7; Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2012), 214–​215. Both Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 279, and Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20, 327, acknowledge the gnomic perfect in Jer 31:29. 97. Joyce, Ezekiel, 141. 98. Thus Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20, 327; see further Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 378, and Block, Ezekiel 1–​24, 558–​561. 99. On the dependence of Ezek 18:2 on Jer 31:29, see John A. Thompson, The Book of Jeremiah (The New International Commentary on the Old Testament; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980), 578; Levin, Verheißung, 38; and Vieweger, Beziehungen, 83. Older scholarship tended to ascribe priority to Ezek 18:2, assuming that Ezek 18:2 goes back to the historical prophet, while Jer 31:29 was considered to be a later supplementation. 100. See in detail the analyses of salvation prophecies in Ezekiel 34–​ 39 in Klein, Schriftauslegung. The following argument presupposes my redactional model of the literary growth of these chapters; however, the observations on the links with prophetic tradition remain valid, even if a synchronic/​holistic approach is preferred. 101. On this literary analysis, see Klein, Schriftauslegung, 270–​285; and Anja Klein, “Prophecy Continued: Reflections on Innerbiblical Exegesis in the Book of Ezekiel,” Vetus Testamentum 60 (2010): 571–​582, 573–​575. The crucial question is the relationship between the vision in 37:1–​10(11) and the disputation oracle in 37:11–​14; on the assumption of a basic account in the vision part, see Baltzer, Ezechiel, 100–​118; Frank Hossfeld, Untersuchungen zu Komposition und Theologie des Ezechielbuches (Forschung zur Bibel 20; Würzburg: Echter, 1977), 341–​401, and Harald Martin Wahl, “Tod und Leben: Zur Wiederherstellung Israels nach Ez XXXVII 1–​14,” Vetus Testamentum 49 (1999): 218–​239. By contrast,

Ezekiel among the Prophetic Tradition    101 Pohlmann, Ezechiel 20–​48, 494–​497, suggests that the disputation in 37:11–​14* represents the original core, while a basic coherence of both parts is assumed by Zimmerli, Ezekiel 2, 256–​258; Allen, Ezekiel 20–​48, 183–​184; Greenberg, Ezekiel 21–​37, 747–​749; Block, Ezekiel 25–​48, 370–​372; Joyce, Ezekiel, 208–​209, and Hiebel, Vision Accounts, 140–​155. Finally, Saul Olyan, “Unnoticed Resonances of Tomb Opening and Transportation of the Remains of the Dead in Ezekiel 37:12–​14,” Journal of Biblical Literature 128 (2009): 491–​501, 492, sees 37:1–​10 and 37:12–​14 as originally separate units, both reacting to the lament in 37:11. 102. See F. Charles Fensham, “The Curse of the Dry Bones in Ezekiel 37:1–​14 Changed to a Blessing of Resurrection,” Journal of Northwest Semitic Languages 13 (1987): 59–​60, and Block, Ezekiel 24–​48, 377–​278. In the Hebrew Bible, the image occurs in Deut 28:26; Isa 14:19–​20; 34:3; Jer 7:33; 9:21; 14:16; 16:4, 6; 19:7; 34:17–​20; 36:30, and Ps 79:2–​3. 103. On Jer 8:1–​3 as a model for the image in Ezek 37:1–​14, see Karin Schöpflin, “Ezechiel –​ das Buch eines Visionärs und Theologen,” Biblische Notizen 130 (2006): 17–​29, 25; Joyce, Ezekiel, 208; Klein, Schriftauslegung, 293–​296. 104. On the exodus imagery in the Prophets, see Rikki E. Watts, “Exodus Imagery,” in Dictionary of the Old Testament Prophets, ed. Mark J. Boda and J. Gordon McConville (Nottingham: IVP, 2012), 205–​214, and the literature cited there. With regard to Ezekiel, see Walther Zimmerli, “Der ‘Neue Exodus’ in der Verkündigung der beiden grossen Exilspropheten,” in Gottes Offenbarung: Gesammelte Aufsätze zum Alten Testament (by Walther Zimmerli; Theologische Bücherei 19; München: Kaiser, 1965), 192–​204; Baltzer, Ezechiel, 2–​11; Johan Lust, “ ‘Gathering and Return’ in Jeremiah and Ezekiel,” in Le Livre de Jérémie, ed. Pierre Maurice Bogaert (Bibliotheca Ephemeridum theologicarum Lovaniensium 54; Leuven: Peeters, 1981), 517–​533. 105. See 34:13: “I will bring them out from the peoples and gather them from the countries, and I will bring them into their land (‫ֵאתים ִמן־הָ עַ ִּמים וְ ִק ַּבצְ ִּתים ִמן־הָ אֲ ָרצו ֹת וַהֲ בִ יא ִֹתים‬ ִ ‫וְ הוֹצ‬ ‫ אֶ ל־אַ ְדמָ תָ ם‬wəhôṣēˀṯîm min-hāˁammîm wəqibbaṣtîm min-hāˀărāṣôt wəhăḇîˀōtîm ˀelˀaḏmātām), and 37:21: “I will take the Israelites out of the nations, where they went, and I will gather them from around and I will bring them into their land (‫ת־בנֵי‬ ְּ ֶ‫אֲ נִי ל ֹקֵ חַ א‬ ‫אתי או ֹתָ ם אֶ ל־אַ ְדמָ תָ ם‬ ִ ֵ‫ּ־שם וְ ִק ַּבצְ ִּתי א ֹתָ ם ִמ ּ ָסבִ יב וְ הֵ ב‬ ָ ׁ ‫שר הָ לְ כו‬ ֶ ׁ ֲ‫ ִי ְׂש ָראֵ ל ִמ ּ ֵבין הַ ּגוֹיִם א‬ˀănî lōqēaḥ ˀet-bənê yiśrāˀēl mibbên hggôyim ˀăšer hāləḵû-šām wəqibbaṣtî ˀōtām missāḇîḇ wəhēḇēˀtî ˀôtām ˀel-ˀaḏmātām).” On the analysis of Ezekiel 34 and 37, see Klein, Schriftauslegung, 24–​80, 211–​270. 106. The connection between these two oracles has been established by Pohlmann on the basis of the testimony of the Greek Papyrus 967; see his Ezechielstudien, 77–​87; and Ezechiel 20–​48, 517–​518, 524–​525. The importance of the textual witness Papyrus 967 has been substantiated previously by Johan Lust, “Ezekiel 36–​40 in the Oldest Greek Manuscript,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 43 (1981), 517–​533. Further comprehensive studies have been provided by Peter Schwagmeier, “Untersuchungen zu Textgeschichte und Entstehung des Ezechielbuches in masoretischer und griechischer Überlieferung,” PhD diss., University of Zürich, 2004; and Ingrid E. Lilly, Two Books of Ezekiel: Papyrus 967 and the Masoretic Text as Variant Literary Editions (Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 150; Leiden: Brill, 2012). 107. See Block, Ezekiel 25–​48, 347–​348; see further Allen, Ezekiel 20–​48, 178; Joyce, Ezekiel, 28–​29, 203–​204; Klein, Schriftauslegung, 145–​146. 108. See already Kratz, Prophets of Israel, 63, followed by Klein, Schriftauslegung, 161–​167 (see there also for a wider discussion of related texts in Deutero-​Isaiah and Ezekiel). 109. See Klein, Schriftauslegung, 154–​161.

102   Anja Klein 110. There is some agreement that at least parts of 37:7–​10 comprise later reworkings, see, e.g., Peter Höffken, “Beobachtungen zu Ezechiel XXXVII 1–​10,” Vetus Testamentum 31 (1981): 305–​317, here 308; Rüdiger Bartelmus, “Ez 37,1–​14, die Verbform weqatal und die Anfänge der Auferstehungshoffnung,” Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 97 (1985): 366–​389, here 385–​389; Harald Martin Wahl, “ ‘Tod und Leben’: Zur Wiederherstellung Israels nach Ez 37,1–​14,” Vetus Testamentum 49 (1999): 218–​240, here 223–​228; Klein, Schriftauslegung, 276–​283; Hiebel, Vision Accounts, 143–​151. 111. On the allusions between Ezek 37:7–​10 and the non-​priestly creation account, see Zimmerli, Ezekiel 2, 257–​258, 261; Baltzer, Ezechiel, 110; Allen, Ezekiel 20–​48, 185; Greenberg, Ezekiel 21–​37, 744; James Robson, Word and Spirit in Ezekiel (The Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 447; London: T&T Clark, 2006), 225–​226; Klein, Schriftauslegung, 296–​299. 112. This oracle has been inserted in connection with the rearrangement of the chapters from the order attested to in Papyrus 967 to the proto-​Masoretic order; on this thesis, see especially Lust, “Ezek 36–​40,” 525–​528, who demonstrates convincingly that the verses were composed to provide a link between Ezekiel 36 and 37. 113. See Klein, Schriftauslegung, 89–​111, also Klein, “Prophecy Continued,” 573–​575. 114. On the connection with Jeremiah 31, see already Cooke, Commentary, 391 (“Ezekiel’s conception corresponds to Jeremiah’s new covenant, in which Jahveh’s law is bestowed inwardly, and written on the heart”). See further John Woodhouse, “The Spirit in the Book of Ezekiel,” Explorations 5 (1991): 1–​22, 17; Schwagmeier, Untersuchungen, 319–​320; Block, Ezekiel 25–​48, 356–​357; and Florian Markter, Transformationen: Zur Anthropologie des Propheten Ezechiel unter besonderer Berücksichtigung des Motivs “Herz” (Forschung zur Bibel 127; Würzburg: Echter, 2013), 510–​512. 115. Walther Zimmerli, Old Testament Theology in Outline (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1978), 207. 116. Similarly Lust, “Ezek 36–​40,” 525: “an anthology of expressions found elsewhere in Ezekiel or Jeremiah.” 117. Kratz, Prophets of Israel, 63.

Bibliography Allen, Leslie C. Ezekiel 1–​19. World Biblical Commentary 28. Word Books: Dallas, 1994. Andersen, Francis I. and David N. Freedman. Amos: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. Anchor Bible 24A. New York: Doubleday, 1989. Assmann, Jan. Ma‘at: Gerechtigkeit und Unsterblichkeit im Alten Ägypten. München: C.H. Beck, 2006. Baltzer, Dieter. Ezechiel und Deuterojesaja: Berührungen in der Heilserwartung der beiden großen Exilspropheten. Beihefte für die Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 121. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1971. Bartelmus, Rüdiger. “Ez 37,1–​ 14, die Verbform weqatal und die Anfänge der Auferstehungshoffnung.” Zeitschrift für die altestamentliche Wissenschaft 97 (1985): 366–​389. Baumann, Gerlinde. Love and Violence: Marriage as Metaphor for the Relationship between Yhwh and Israel in the Prophetic Books. Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2003. Block, Daniel I. The Book of Ezekiel: Chapters 1–​24. The New International Commentary on the Old Testament. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997. Block, Daniel I. The Gods of the Nations: Studies in Ancient Near Eastern National Theology. ETS Monograph Series 2. Jackson, MS: Evangelical Theological Society, 1988.

Ezekiel among the Prophetic Tradition    103 Bodi, Daniel. The Book of Ezekiel and the Poem of Erra. Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 104. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1991. Bogaert, Pierre-​Maurice. “Les deux rédactions conserves (LXX et MT) d’Ézéchiel 7.” In Ezekiel and his Book: Textual and Literary Criticism and their Interrelation, edited by Johan Lust, 21–​47. Bibliotheca Ephemeridum theologicarum Lovaniensium 74; Leuven: University Press, 1986. Botterweck, G. Johannes, Helmer Ringgren, and Heinz-​Josef Fabry, eds. Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament (TDOT). Translated by David E. Green, Douglas W. Stott, and Mark E. Biddle. 16 volumes. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1974–​2018. Carroll, Robert P. Jeremiah: A Commentary. Old Testament Library. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1986. Cook, John A. Time and the Biblical Hebrew Verb: The Expression of Tense, Aspect and Modality in Biblical Hebrew. Linguistic Studies in Ancient West Semitic 7. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2012. Cooke, George A. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Book of Ezekiel. International Critical Commentary. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1936. Darr, Katheryn Pfisterer. “Ezekiel’s Justifications of God: Teaching Troubling Texts.” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 55 (1992): 97–​117. Davis, Ellen F. Swallowing the Scroll: Textuality and the Dynamics of Discourse in Ezekiel’s Prophecy. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 21. Sheffield: Almond, 1989. Day, Linda. “Rhetoric and Domestic Violence in Ezekiel 16.” Biblical Interpretation 8 (2000): 205–​230. Ehring, Christina. Die Rückkehr Yhwhs: Traditions-​und religionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zu Jesaja 40,1–​11, Jesaja 52,7–​10 und verwandten Texten. Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament 116. Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2007. Fensham, F. Charles. “The Curse of the Dry Bones in Ezekiel 37:1–​14 Changed to a Blessing of Resurrection.” Journal of Northwest Semitic Languages 13 (1987): 59–​60. Galambush, Julie. Jerusalem in the Book of Ezekiel: The City as Yahweh’s Wife. SBL Dissertation Series 130. Atlanta: Scholars, 1992. Gesenius, Wilhelm, and Emil Kautzsch. Gesenius’ Hebrew Grammar. 2nd English edn. Translated by A. E. Cowley. Oxford: Clarendon, 1910. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 1–​20: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. Anchor Bible 22. New York: Doubleday, 1983. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 21–​37: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. Anchor Bible 22A. New York: Doubleday, 1997. Hartenstein, Friedhelm. Die Unzugänglichkeit Gottes im Heiligtum: Jesaja 6 und der Wohnort Yhwhs in der Jerusalemer Kulttradition. Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament 75. Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1997. Hatav, Galia. “Gnomic Perfect.” In Encyclopedia of Hebrew Language and Linguistics, edited by Geoffrey Khan, 2:69. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2013. Hiebel, Janina Maria. Ezekiel’s Vision Accounts as Interrelated Narratives: A Redaction-​Critical and Theological Study. Beihefte für die Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 475. Berlin: deGruyter, 2015. Höffken, Peter. “Beobachtungen zu Ezechiel XXXVII 1–​10.” Vetus Testamentum 31 (1981): 305–​317. Hölscher, Gustav. Hesekiel: Der Dichter und das Buch: Eine literarkritische Untersuchung. Gießen: Töpelmann, 1924.

104   Anja Klein Hossfeld, Frank. Untersuchungen zu Komposition und Theologie des Ezechielbuches. Forschung zur Bibel 20. Würzburg: Echter, 1977. Joüon, Paul. A Grammar of Biblical Hebrew. Revised ed. Translated and revised by T. Muraoka. Subsidia Biblica 27. Rome: Editrice Pontificio Istituto Biblico, 2006. Joyce, Paul. Divine Initiative and Human Response in Ezekiel. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 51. Sheffield: Journal for the Study of the Old Testament, 1989. Joyce, Paul. Ezekiel: A Commentary. The Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 482. London: T&T Clark, 2007. Kiefer, Jörn. Exil und Diaspora: Begrifflichkeit und Deutungen im Antiken Judentum und in der Hebräischen Bibel. Arbeiten zur Bibel und ihrer Geschichte 19. Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2005. Kilpp, Nelson. “Eine frühe Interpretation der Katastrophe von 587.” Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 97 (1985): 210–​220. Klein, Anja. “Prophecy Continued: Reflections on Innerbiblical Exegesis in the Book of Ezekiel.” Vetus Testamentum 60 (2010): 571–​582. Klein, Anja. Schriftauslegung im Ezechielbuch: Redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zu Ez 34–​39. Beihefte für die Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 391. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2008. Klein, Anja. “Uncovering the Nymphomaniac –​the Verb ‫ גלה‬and Exile as Sexual Violence in Ezek 16 and 23.” In Images of Exile in the Prophetic Literature, edited by Jesper Høgenhaven, Frederik Poulsen, and Cian Power, 167–​186. FAT II/​103. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2019. Klein, Anja. “ ‘Das Ende kommt’–​ Textgeschichte, Redaktion und literarische Horizonte in Ez 7:1–​12a.” In Das Buch Ezechiel: Komposition, Redaktion und Rezeption, edited by Jan C. Gertz, Corinna Körting, and Markus Witte, 63–​88. Beihefte für die Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 516. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2020. Kratz, Reinhard G. Kyros im Deuterojesaja-​Buch: Redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zu Entstehung und Theologie von Jes 40–​55. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 1. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1991. Kratz, Reinhard G. The Prophets of Israel. Critical Studies in the Hebrew Bible 2. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2015. Krüger, Thomas. Geschichtskonzepte im Ezechielbuch. Beihefte für die Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 180. Berlin/​New York: de Gruyter, 1989. Kutsko, John. Between Heaven and Earth: Divine Presence and Absence in the Book of Ezekiel. Biblical and Judaic Studies from the University of California, San Diego 7. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2000. Leene, Hendrik. “Blowing the Same Shofar: An Intertextual Comparison of Representation of the Prophetic Role in Jeremiah and Ezekiel.” In The Elusive Prophet: The Prophet as a Historical Person, Literary Character and Anonymous Artist, edited by Johannes C. De Moor, 175–​198. Old Testament Studies 45. Leiden/​Boston/​Köln: Brill, 2001. Levin, Christoph. Die Verheißung des neuen Bundes in ihrem theologiegeschichtlichen Zusammenhang ausgelegt. Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments 137. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht, 1985. Lilly, Ingrid E. Two Books of Ezekiel: Papyrus 967 and the Masoretic Text as Variant Literary Editions. Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 150. Leiden: Brill, 2012. Løland, Hanne. Silent or Salient Gender? The Interpretation of Gendered God-​Language in the Hebrew Bible, Exemplified in Isaiah 42, 46 and 49. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 2/​32. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008. Lust, Johan. “Ezekiel 36–​40 in the Oldest Greek Manuscript.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 43 (1981): 517–​533.

Ezekiel among the Prophetic Tradition    105 Lust, Johan. “ ‘Gathering and Return’ in Jeremiah and Ezekiel.” In Le Livre de Jérémie, edited by Pierre Maurice Bogaert, 517–​533. Bibliotheca Ephemeridum theologicarum Lovaniensium 54. Leuven: Peeters, 1981. Lust, Johan. “The Use of Textual Witnesses for the Establishment of the Text: The Shorter and Longer Texts of Ezekiel,” in Ezekiel and His Book: Textual and Literary Criticism and their Interrelation, edited by Johan Lust, 7–​20. Bibliotheca Ephemeridum theologicarum Lovaniensium 74. Leuven: University Press, 1986. Magdalene, F. Rachel. “Ancient Near Eastern Treaty-​Curses and the Ultimate Texts of Terror: A Study of the Language of Divine Sexual Abuse in the Prophetic Corpus.” In The Feminist Companion to the Latter Prophets, edited by Athalya Brenner, 326–​352. Feminist Companion to the Bible 8. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1995. Markter, Florian. Transformationen: Zur Anthropologie des Propheten Ezechiel unter besonderer Berücksichtigung des Motivs “Herz.” Forschung zur Bibel 127. Würzburg: Echter, 2013. Mettinger, Tryggve N. D. The Dethronement of Sabaoth: Studies in the Shem and Kabod Theologie. Coniectanea Biblica. Old Testament series 18; Lund: CWK Gleerup, 1982. Miller, J. Maxwell, and John H. Hayes. A History of Ancient Israel and Judah. 2nd ed. London: SCM, 2006. Olyan, Saul. “Unnoticed Resonances of Tomb Opening and Transportation of the Remains of the Dead in Ezekiel 37:12–​14.” Journal of Biblical Literature 128 (2009): 491–​501. Paul, Shalom M. Amos: A Commentary on the Book of Amos. Hermeneia. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1991. Pohlmann, Karl-​Friedrich. Studien zum Jeremiabuch: Ein Beitrag zur Frage nach der Entstehung des Jeremiabuches. Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments 118; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1978. Pohlmann, Karl-​Friedrich. Ezechielstudien: Zur Redaktionsgeschichte des Buches und zur Frage nach den ältesten Texten. Beihefte für die Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 202. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1992. Pohlmann, Karl-​Friedrich. Der Prophet Hesekiel/​ Ezechiel: Kapitel 1–​ 19. Altes Testament Deutsch 22,1. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1996. Pohlmann, Karl-​Friedrich. Der Prophet Hesekiel/​Ezechiel: Kapitel 20–​48. Altes Testament Deutsch 22,2. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2001. Pohlmann, Karl-​Friedrich. Ezechiel: Der Stand der theologischen Diskussion. Darmstadt: WBG, 2008. Robson, James. Word and Spirit in Ezekiel. The Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 447. London: T&T Clark, 2006. Rudnig, Thilo. Heilig und Profan: Redaktionskritische Studien zu Ez 40–​48. Beihefte für die Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 287. Berlin: deGruyter, 2000. Schmid, Konrad. Buchgestalten des Jeremiabuches: Untersuchungen zur Redaktions-​und Rezeptionsgeschichte von Jer 30–​33 im Kontext des Buches. Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament 72. Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1996. Schöpflin, Karin. Theologie als Biographie im Ezechielbuch: Ein Beitrag zur Konzeption alttestamentlicher Theologie. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 36. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002. Schöpflin, Karin. “Ezechiel –​das Buch eines Visionärs und Theologen.” Biblische Notizen 130 (2006): 17–​29. Schwagmeier, Peter. “Untersuchungen zu Textgeschichte und Entstehung des Ezechielbuches in masoretischer und griechischer Überlieferung.” PhD diss., University of Zürich, 2004.

106   Anja Klein Seitz, Christopher R. Theology in Conflict: Reactions to the Exile in the Book of Jeremiah. Beihefte für die Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 176. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1989. Shields, Mary E. “Multiple Exposures: Body Rhetoric and Gender Characterization in Ezekiel 16.” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 15 (1998): 5–​18. Steck, Odil H. Israel und das gewaltsame Geschick der Propheten. Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament 23. Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1967. Steins, Georg. “‫צפה‬.” In Botterweck, Ringgren, and Fabry, Theological Dictionary, 12:429–​435. Strine, Casey A. “The Role of Repentance in the Book of Ezekiel: A Second Chance for the Second Generation.” Journal of Theological Studies 63 (2012): 469–​492. Thompson, John A. The Book of Jeremiah. The New International Commentary on the Old Testament. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980. Trible, Phyllis. “Depatriarchalizing in Biblical Interpretation.” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 41 (1973): 30–​48. van Dijk-​Hemmes, Fokkelien. “The Metaphorization of Woman in Prophetic Speech: An Analysis of Ezekiel XXIII.” Vetus Testamentum 43 (1993): 162–​170. Vieweger, Dieter. Die literarischen Beziehungen zwischen den Büchern Jeremia und Ezechiel. Beiträge zur Erforschung des Alten Testaments und des Antiken Judentums 6. Frankfurt a.M.: Peter Lang, 1993. Wahl, Harald Martin. “ ‘Tod und Leben’: Zur Wiederherstellung Israels nach Ez 37,1–​14.” Vetus Testamentum 49 (1999): 218–​240. Watts, Rikki E. “Exodus Imagery.” In Dictionary of the Old Testament Prophets, edited by Mark J. Boda and J. Gordon McConville, 205–​214. Nottingham: IVP, 2012. Wellhausen, Julius. Prolegomena to the History of Ancient Israel. Gloucester, MA: Peter Smith, 1973. Westermann, Claus, and Rainer Albertz. “‫גלה‬.” In Theological Lexicon of the Old Testament (TLOT), edited by Ernst Jenni and Claus Westermann, and translated by Mark E. Biddle, 1:314–​320. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1997. Wischnowsky, Mark. Tochter Zion: Aufnahme und Überwindung der Stadtklage in den Prophetenschriften des Alten Testaments. Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament 89; Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2001. Wolff, Hans W. Dodekapropheton 1: Hosea. Biblischer Kommentar 16/​1. Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1961. Wolff, Hans W. Dodekapropheton 2: Joel und Amos. Biblischer Kommentar 14/​2; Neukirchen-​ Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1969. Woodhouse, John. “The Spirit in the Book of Ezekiel.” Explorations 5 (1991): 1–​22. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezekiel 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 1–​24. Translated by Ronald E. Clements. Hermeneia. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979. Zimmerli, Walther. “Der ‘Neue Exodus’ in der Verkündigung der beiden grossen Exilspropheten,” in Gottes Offenbarung: Gesammelte Aufsätze zum Alten Testament by Walther Zimmerli, 192–​204. Theologische Bücherei 19. München: Kaiser, 1965. Zimmerli, Walther. Old Testament Theology in Outline. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1978. Zobel, Hans-​Jürgen. “‫גלה‬.” In Botterweck, Ringgren, and Fabry, Theological Dictionary, 2: 476–​488. Zobel, Hans-​Jürgen. “‫עקב‬.” In Botterweck, Ringgren, and Fabry, Theological Dictionary, 11: 315–​320.

Chapter 6

E zekiel and I sra e l i t e Literary Tra di t i ons Dexter E. Callender

Biblical scholars have long puzzled over the relationship of Ezekiel to other biblical materials.1 Perhaps nowhere is this better expressed than in the second volume of Moshe Greenberg’s Ezekiel commentary, which he opens by acknowledging “extraordinary difficulties” confronting the interpreter of Ezekiel, the foremost among them being the immensity of scope—​not only “the encyclopedic range of Ezekiel’s references” but also his allusions to “almost every genre of Israelite literature known from the Bible.”2 This by itself is no surprise; as Greenberg reasonably surmises, “Since he was a priest, and therefore trained in the traditions and literature of his people, we may suppose that in principle everything contained under the rubrics ‘literature’ and ‘traditions’ in the sixth century b.c.e. kingdom of Judah was accessible to him.”3 One indeed readily encounters affinities between Ezekiel and texts that may be classified as narrative, poetic, legal, and prophetic, to name a few. More to the point, despite the similarities one readily encounters while comparing texts in Ezekiel with other biblical writings, “there are always divergences between the two,” Greenberg observes, “challenging the interpreter to ascertain whether Ezekiel reflects a different version or is reshaping (or distorting) for his purpose the version known to us from elsewhere.”4 This picture is further complicated by the relationship between Israelite literature in its ancient Near Eastern context and Ezekiel’s location in Babylon. As Greenberg states, it is “especially difficult to assess . . . the extent of the prophet’s use of non-​Israelite cultural material.”5 It is not surprising that in his influential mid-​twentieth century study of the book, Georg Fohrer urged caution in suggesting literary affinities—​a note Paul Joyce echoes in his Ezekiel commentary almost a decade into the twenty-​first century.6 The model of tradition as an interplay of traditum and traditio, of content and process, respectively, offers one avenue of approach to the problem in Ezekiel. Michael Fishbane summarizes the ancient Israelite traditum–​traditio relation as the dynamics “between (increasingly) authoritative teachings or traditions whose religious-​cultural

108   Dexter E. Callender significance is vital (and increasingly fundamental), and the concern to preserve, render contemporary, or otherwise reinterpret these teachings or traditions in explicit ways for new times and circumstances.”7 For the literati to whom Ezekiel belonged, the process of rendering this vital significance is at once an interaction with divine power. As Fishbane observes, “The exegetical traditio is a task with sacred responsibilities, since it partakes of the power and authority of the divine traditum itself ”8 Andrew Pickering’s application of actor-​network theory provides a useful framework for understanding the dynamics of tradition and its relation to power. “The basic metaphysics of the actor-​network,” he explains, “is that we should think of science (and technology and society) as a field of human and nonhuman (material) agency. Human and nonhuman agents are associated with one another in networks, and evolve together within those networks.”9 Material agency, most recognizably in the form of environmental hazards, breaks in on human life “from outside the human realm.”10 Human agents develop technologies first in response to the most constant threats to life. In technology, human agents capture material agency, leveraging it to perform tasks that exceed the actional capacities of “naked human minds and bodies, individually or collectively.”11 While technologies help humans cope with material agency, they also become material agents with which humans must also contend. This ongoing struggle highlights the management of material agency as a dynamic practice. Through its machines, as Pickering suggests, human agency and material agency enter into a collaborative relationship. Pickering’s model addresses modern science and its machines, but it applies equally to ancient Israelite scribes and their traditions, which properly count among such technologies. Like Pickering’s machines, literary devices of all sorts are “captures of material agency.” They are what the cognitive anthropologist Edwin Hutchins and others call material anchors.12 By associating material structure with conceptual structure, material anchors elicit responses in the user. The responses are or become automatic, emerging beneath the threshold of conscious awareness. Moreover, these responses are shaped by contextual factors. Thus the capacity of a literary device to act on human agents is not fixed but shifts in relation to changes in the biological and ecological systems of the human agent. From this perspective, literary devices as material agents push back on their designers and variously impinge on those who encounter them. Humans both use and are used by them. As with the machines of science, collaboration aptly characterizes the relationship of humans to literary devices. As an ongoing practice, collaboration also embodies the dynamic of traditum and traditio. Such a notion of material agency can help illuminate the nature of Ezekiel’s relationship to Israelite literary tradition. We find something of Ezekiel’s attitude to Israelite literary traditions in the striking image of “not good” laws given by Yahweh (20:25–​26). The image appears within the polemical history of Israel (20:5-​31), where the “not good” laws are juxtaposed with ancestral legal traditions (v. 18; cf. v. 7) and Yahweh’s life-​giving laws (vv. 11–​12, 18–​19). Throughout the history, the oracle problematizes the ancestral traditions, associating them with the defiling idols of Egypt and contrasting them with the life-​conferring laws of Yahweh. After tracing the contrast across generations, the

Ezekiel and Israelite Literary Traditions    109 oracle ultimately reveals that Yahweh had given them bad laws. From a strictly conceptual standpoint, laws that are “not good” though given by the deity are of ambiguous authority and force. Logically, they stand between human ancestral legal tradition and divine law, mediating the contrast between human law which defiles and divine law which gives life. This perspective invites us to consider the history as emblematic of Israel’s struggle with its devices. The image of the “not good” laws, we might say, is itself one particular device by which the prophet and his editors facilitated collaboration with other devices designed to put material agency in the service life, specifically in the concept of an authoritative universal ideal. The array of plausible solutions that scholars have offered for the “not good” laws affords a different optic through which to consider the metaphor of collaboration, both in the “not good” laws and throughout Ezekiel. For Walther Zimmerli, Ezekiel refers to the people’s intentional misreading as influenced by the foreign practice of child sacrifice.13 Corrine Patton views the reference to offering the firstborn as expressing “a paradigmatic law of a law code meant to bring death, not life,” thus “calling into question the nature of the whole pre-​exilic legal tradition.”14 Scott Hahn and John Bergsma see the “not good” laws and the allusion to the firstborn as a rejection of the Deuteronomic body of legal tradition, whose secularizing tendencies would have offended the priestly legal sensibilities of Ezekiel.15 Kathryn Pfisterer Darr contends that the “not good” laws reflect the people’s continued adherence to earlier beliefs in child sacrifice—​and with it their rejection of the subsequent modification introducing redemption.16 Considered synoptically, these four interpretations suggest a heuristic framework for the Israelite traditum posited as an ideal type, one that provides the basis for an analytical sketch of scholarly approaches to the topic of Ezekiel’s relation to Israelite literary traditions. Viewed through this lens, four overlapping areas constitute key fault lines around which discussions of Ezekiel and Israelite literary traditions turn. These areas concern defining and understanding the Israelite traditum with respect to (a) the category of foreignness; (b) genre(s) and design; (c) variant expressions; and (d) transformation or change.

1.  Foreignness Most commentators agree that Ezekiel drew considerably upon non-​Israelite literary elements in composing his work. Despite the frequent rhetorical frame that cast “the nations” in diametrical opposition to Israel, the prophet found compelling force in materials that would have lacked explicit Israelite institutional sanction as authoritative. Not surprisingly, scholars have been inclined to focus either on distinction and reaction or assimilation. One approach to assaying foreign literary influence recognizes affinities but attends more closely to difference as revealing a conceptual break. Ezekiel’s oracles against Tyre (ch. 28) reflect language and imagery found in other biblical texts but also in Mesopotamian literary sources.17

110   Dexter E. Callender Daniel Block makes the important observation that the theological implications of the two oracles “depend to some extent on one’s view of the traditions that underlie them.”18 While acknowledging affinities with extrabiblical traditions, he warns against exaggerating the extent of their influence. Ezekiel’s theology, he asserts, “is informed primarily by his Yahwistic heritage, and most of the features in the present Oracle can be accounted for within the biblical tradition.”19 The presence of any Mesopotamian elements, he suggests, are part of a communicative strategy reflecting the theologically compromised culture of the Israelite community: “Given their syncretistic bent, one should not be surprised if traditions like this circulated even among the Israelites, or that the prophets should draw on prevailing notions in the communication of their message.”20 Ezekiel’s purpose, he argues, “is not primarily to transmit ancient traditions, but to challenge the arrogance of the Tyrian state in the face of Yahweh’s purposes. In communicating this prophetic word to his fellow exiles, he challenges all subsequent readers to hear the message of God. . . .”21 This message, for Block, includes a warning against hubris—​calling all to recognize that they are subject to a Lord of all history, who “appoints rulers (even over pagan nations and states) to manage his estate with equity, justice, and humility” and who, for Ezekiel, is Yahweh.22 Ezekiel is thus a “communicator of divine truth” using “every conceivable means” to deliver the message effectively. Foreign source materials are “merely homiletical and literary devices” with which the people can identify. Ezekiel as communicator “does not thereby accord them the same truth value he recognizes in the words he receives from God. . . . But both credibility and rhetoric are served when the messenger understands his or her audience as well as subject.”23 Block draws the contrast more starkly in explaining affinities between Ezekiel’s vision of the departure of the divine ‫ ּ ָכבו ֹד‬kāḇôḏ “glory” (chs. 8–​11) and Sumerian and Akkadian accounts of divine abandonment, common in Mesopotamia: “Ezekiel’s audience had been infected by many of the prevailing religious ideas among Israel’s neighbors. It is appropriate, therefore, that the account of the vision of the impending destruction of their own beloved city should be cast in terms and employ motifs with which they had become fascinated.”24 At the same time, Block asserts that Ezekiel’s use of the divine departure tradition could not conform to “the pattern of the religious beliefs of the native Mesopotamians.” Differences thereby constitute a necessary transformation. Yahweh departs under his own volition and power, not by force of Nebuchadrezzar, and maintains interest in his covenant people.25 Thus Block’s argument suggests that the use of Babylonian material was part of a rejection of Babylonian ideas. Others have regarded the Babylonian materials in more neutral or positive terms. Daniel Bodi conceives Ezekiel’s author or redactor as “a sophisticated humanist who followed the ancient canons of literary style which placed a premium on saying things in conventional ways.”26 Alternatively, Abraham Winitzer proceeds from the book’s Babylonian setting to consider Ezekiel as one among the Judean exiles living a normal life, subject to the expected processes of acculturation and assimilation and involved in Babylonian life from matters of everyday discourse to the realm of scholarly reflection.27 Accordingly, the book of Ezekiel is an early Jewish text reflecting how Judean

Ezekiel and Israelite Literary Traditions    111 Babylonians appropriated Babylonian lore to create their own literature and sense of identity. Winitzer sees in the Tyre oracles of c­ hapter 28 a local adaptation of portions of the Gilgamesh Epic, in which the prophet applies an established tradition to a contemporary historical event, Nebuchadrezzar II’s siege of Tyre. Ezekiel’s use reflects, quite simply, the “manner by which intellectual traditions the world over incorporate existing raw materials but refashion them according to specific proclivities.”28 Thus, similarities to Gilgamesh (such as the attempt to achieve immortality) and differences (such as expulsion from the divine space) indicate that the tradition was “reconceived in keeping with a different sense of emphasis” and according to Ezekiel’s own understanding.29 Winitzer locates the roots of Ezekiel 28 in an original core tradition reflected in the Dilmun imagery of third-​millennium Enki mythology. This tradition was transformed in second-​millennium Akkadian and Sumerian flood myths, subsequently interpolated into Gilgamesh, and eventually transformed by biblical authors. Ezekiel may have been the tradition’s primary point of entry into the biblical sphere, preceding its re-​appropriation by the scribes of the Genesis Eden narrative.30 Thus, Ezekiel’s appropriation of the tradition indicates “a meaningful and learned intercultural exchange between Judeans and their host culture. . . . This exchange played a seminal role in the evolution of the exiled Judean community, with a ripple effect felt far beyond the confines of Ezekiel or Babylon’s rivers.”31 Such adaptation evinces the emergence of “a newly found cultural consciousness.”32 Winitzer further suggests that elements in the Exodus Tabernacle narrative originated in Babylonian materials and entered the biblical sphere through Ezekiel. Thus, Ezekiel indeed influenced the legal traditions—​as Wellhausen had argued.33 These two positions are not mutually exclusive. Canonical forms, regardless of their provenance, offer natural resources for crafting new cultural tools. An exilic setting for author and audience, if it is to be accepted, would require tools befitting the challenges of the situation. As David Vanderhooft observes, “in a context where Judeans doubtless experienced a degree of what acculturation psychologists call separation or marginality, there was nevertheless some degree of integration.” For Vanderhooft, “acculturation within the Babylonian milieu affords Ezekiel raw materials to generate his critique. . . . Babylonian realia and ways of thought are to Ezekiel like Babylon’s armies are to God: they are a means for assaulting wayward Judeans.”34 As one of the “intellectual experts” of the Judean community, part of Ezekiel’s role was to “decode and communicate the content and perhaps shortcomings of the institutions and ideas characteristic of Babylonian life.”35 Defining and recognizing foreignness, the other as a force influencing behavior, is a central problem of identity and community, one that calls for an especially creative collaboration with those devices selected for inclusion. The apparent ambivalence of the book toward adopting the recognizably foreign traditum reflects awareness of the problem. Such ambivalence challenges the notion of an assumed necessary formal structure of the uniquely Israelite traditum. Likewise, it disrupts the formal constraints that define “the nations,” a topos of central importance in Ezekiel and elsewhere in the biblical corpus.

112   Dexter E. Callender

2.  Genre(s) and Design Ancient traditionists made use of various structuring devices at different linguistic and discursive levels. Viewed as a collection (as form-​and redaction-​critical scholarship has traditionally emphasized), Ezekiel comprises a host of genres and forms from various spheres of life, many of which belong to the realm of Israelite prophecy.36 Yet many commentators perceive Ezekiel to consist of more than a random assortment of oracles—​sensing instead, like Greenberg, “the product of art and intelligent design.”37 Thus, viewed as a composition, an approach to which recent scholarship has returned, Ezekiel has for many scholars come to be understood as an exemplar of a particular Israelite genre, the prophetic book.38 Notwithstanding general agreement regarding the existence of a prophetic-​book genre in ancient Israel, scholars have proposed other genres as the basic organizing principle of the book of Ezekiel and the key to its functional capacities. Daniel Bodi points to twelve parallels between Ezekiel and the Poem of Erra that suggest the latter provided a model that facilitated explanation of the catastrophic event of the exile. Bodi describes Erra as a religious, didactic, and sapiential poem (as opposed to a myth or an epic). By attributing the destruction and reconstruction of Babylon directly to the god Erra, the author offers a theology of history that ends on a note of hope—​ and instructs its audience to accept the deity as the “Ruler of History,” comparable to the project of the Deuteronomists. Bodi understands the motif of Ezekiel swallowing the scroll (3:16) as an image by which the authorial Ezekiel claims divine inspiration for his literary product and avows “having followed a certain existing model.”39 Such emulation served the poetic strategy of “literary metamorphosis” that “appl[ied] to Yahweh and to the prophet the features which originally belonged to Erra and Išum respectively.”40 According to Margaret Odell, understanding Ezekiel through the genre “prophetic book” fails to account for key features such as how the collection works, the final vision, or the development of Ezekiel’s prophetic persona.41 Odell finds a better model in the literary genre “building inscription” evident in the inscriptions of Esarhaddon, with which the prophet would have been familiar. As a whole, Ezekiel closely imitates “the entire structure of Esarhaddon’s Babylonian inscriptions,” integrating traditional Israelite prophetic and priestly materials within a new frame: “Though the general outline of Ezekiel resembles that of Esarhaddon’s inscription, its individual units remain, for the most part, thoroughly immersed in Judaean prophetic and priestly traditions.”42 Regarding how Ezekiel appropriated the genres, she argues the process was not “a natural, organic development” occurring within biblical literature. It does not reflect the development of a biblical (or Israelite) building inscription genre (such as may lie behind the accounts in Kings and Chronicles of Solomon building the temple). Rather, “the book of Ezekiel is more like a studied, literate, imitative appropriation of the [Babylonian] building inscription genre than that of an internal development.”43

Ezekiel and Israelite Literary Traditions    113 In Odell’s comparative assessment, Yahweh assumes the role of king of the building inscription, accounting for the book’s radical theology. Ezekiel’s persona corresponds to the signs and cosmic portents of the building inscription genre. In this respect, Ezekiel’s muted grief (24:15–​24) combines genres: It is “not only a report of a symbolic act but also a story about the curtailment or prohibition of mourning.”44 As such, the prohibition against mourning his wife and against the people mourning the city and their loved ones should be read as an act of dissociation from the deceased, a complete severing of “any remaining ties” with Jerusalem. The imitation of Ezekiel’s action by the people (33:10) reflects an innovation within the prophetic genre of the symbolic act report in which the prophet is “not simply enacting the prophetic word, [but] is taking on new significance as a model for the future.”45 Ezekiel’s persona is the “functional equivalent of signs” and takes the place of the cosmic supernatural portent by manifesting the hidden structures at work beneath the phenomena of historical events. Thus, swallowing the scroll (3:16) and donning the turban (24:15–​24) together embrace impending disaster and certainty of restoration. An alternative proposal for construing the book’s genre is offered by Donna Lee Petter, who posits the Mesopotamian city-​lament genre as “the key” to the book’s organizational structure and various themes.46 Petter finds in Ezekiel all nine of the defining features of the city-​lament genre as identified by Dobbs-​Allsopp.47 The scroll that Ezekiel consumes—​containing lamentation, mourning, and woe (2:8–​3:3)—​signals Ezekiel’s use of the genre.48 Ezekiel wrote the book, she contends, based on the genre of the scroll, which “provided Ezekiel not only a text but with a specific literary form, namely, the lament form, from which his oracles and their varying genres were compiled.”49 Moreover, Ezekiel’s consumption of the scroll and his subsequent reaction establish him as a mourner and, she proposes, as the functional equivalent to the weeping goddess in the Mesopotamian city lament.50 These proposals concerning the genre of the book of Ezekiel raise questions about how the book as a whole functions with respect to its parts, how its constituent parts function against different contextual backgrounds, and how authors and audiences recognize and appropriate structure on different levels. Such lingering questions point to the need for more rigorous methods of analysis and greater precision in articulating relations and functions.51 Nonetheless, we must also recognize the possibility that the prophet and his editors drew from the typical structure that characterizes each of the proposed genres, incorporating them in a fashion that does not allow any one to dominate and potentially undermine a more important objective to which the book gestures. Ezekiel, as a book, is itself integrated into and subsumed by the larger whole of the canonical prophetic corpus. Prophecy as an Israelite literary tradition is a “collection of collections”—​the final result of which was, as Ronald Clements describes it, a “recognizable unity not entirely dissimilar from that of the Pentateuch.”52 In the development of the prophetic canon, he observes, “the various preserved prophecies of a whole series of inspired individuals acquired an overarching thematic unity. This centered on the death and rebirth of Israel, interpreted theologically as acts of divine judgment and

114   Dexter E. Callender salvation.”53 The familiar pattern of warnings of disaster preceding promises of restoration imposed as a literary feature upon the prophetic collections arose from a conviction that assumed the underlying theme of destruction and renewal. The assumption of an underlying theme of destruction and renewal led tradents to impose the familiar pattern of warnings of disaster preceding promises of restoration as a literary feature.54 The manifestation of patterns and themes writ large in the macrocosm of the canonical prophetic corpus returns us to the microcosm of the individual “prophetic” address, and in particular to what Gunkel perceived as the fundamental genre of prophetic speech: the indictment and the announcement of judgment. Although the origins of this basic form may not be traced directly to the Sitz im Leben of the court proceeding, as Claus Westermann suggested, it stands to reason that the genre directs us to the realm of human conduct and experience as a matter of lawfully ordered events.55 The flexibility of literary topoi to expand and contract draws attention to their capacity to prompt varied responses at different levels. This flexibility offers a different resource for creatively presenting and managing familiar structure. Iterations at micro and macro levels suggest a redoubling of efforts to recruit the structural forces that compose the image. Distilling and diluting these properties through expansion and contraction constitutes yet another mode of collaboration with the material agency of these devices.

3.  Ezekiel and Variants of the Israelite Traditum Ezekiel embodies and manifests variant expressions of the traditum on every level at which one detects literary convention, from technical terms to larger and more “abstract” discursive units. As a book, Ezekiel appears to represent a particular variant of the Israelite traditum in contradistinction to Jeremiah. Within the book, Ezekiel embraces the variants of Priestly and Deuteronomic traditions. Finally, the manuscript traditions in which Ezekiel exists—​most notably the Masoretic Text (MT) and Septuagint (LXX)—​manifest variant forms of the Israelite traditum.

3.1  Ezekiel versus Jeremiah On the level of the book, scholars have long recognized connections between Ezekiel and Jeremiah.56 Rudolf Smend considered sixty-​two parallels to be direct literary borrowings from Jeremiah.57 Scrutiny of differences, attention to dating redactional complexes, and consideration of other possible explanations for affinities led John W. Miller to reject over two-​thirds of Smend’s parallels but also to suggest that Ezekiel had studied the scroll of Baruch.58 Attention to ideological difference in particular led Dalit Rom-​Shiloni to conclude that certain conflicting messages (e.g., Ezek 12:15–​16 and Jer

Ezekiel and Israelite Literary Traditions    115 9:15; Ezek 28:25–​26 and Jer 29:5–​6) represent different readings of the Deuteronomic tradition and reflect a polemical strategy adopted by Ezekiel to address the future prospects of the Jehoiachin exiles, a group that would come into conflict with the Jerusalem community, whose respective fates Ezekiel and Jeremiah regarded differently.59 Beyond these assessments of the content of their messages, it is worth observing their biographies: the two are contemporaries responding to the collapse of Judah and Jerusalem at the hand of the Neo-​Babylonian empire. Each prophet is linked to the priesthood, and perhaps deliberately to rival priestly houses of Zadok and Abiathar. Inasmuch as the prophet’s persona is a unifying principle by which the material is framed, the two reflect variants of the same traditum.

3.2  D/​Dtr versus P The literary complexes designated Deuteronomic (D/​Dtr), Priestly (P), and Holiness Code (H), along with forms of prophetic speech and activity, likewise constitute variant expressions of the Israelite traditum. The relationship of Ezekiel to these materials and their supporting institutional structures (and how such structures are to be defined) occupied scholarly interest for much of the twentieth century. Given the presentation of Ezekiel as a priest, it comes as no surprise that the book reflects priestly traditions. Ezekiel’s closest perceived literary affinities are found within the Holiness Code (Leviticus 17–​26), a distinct literary unit whose compositional history and literary relation to the broader priestly tradition have been variously conceived.60 The close affinities between the Holiness Code and Ezekiel led some nineteenth century scholars like Karl Heinrich Graf to view Ezekiel as the author of H, while others, like August Klostermann, posited an unconscious dependence on a widely known and publicly proclaimed law code.61 For Wellhausen, Ezekiel quoted earlier pre-​exilic traditional material and became the source for a later exilic-​period author, who drew from Ezekiel in formulating H as the received legal corpus. More recently, Fohrer rejected the idea of direct literary dependence, positing instead a common source from which each drew.62 Against these, Zimmerli suggests mutual influence over the course of a period that witnessed the gradual literary development of each.63 The presence of Deuteronomic elements has been widely recognized; however, the seeming ubiquity of the Deuteronomic tradition and the lack of detailed information regarding the institution responsible for it precludes certainty in assessing literary relations.64 Not surprisingly, Zimmerli observes that it is “undeniable that Ezekiel 6 presupposes the polemic against the high places which was acted upon in the Deuteronomic reform,” and thus he asserts that it is “striking how the most important elements and formulation of language and preaching are absent.”65 Some have argued that Ezekiel was revised extensively to bring the book in line with a Deuteronomistic perspective.66 Robert Wilson, asserting that Ephraimite features are integral at every redactional layer, contends that Ezekiel the priest was influenced by the Deuteronomic movement prior to being exiled, and that the book reflects his own personal

116   Dexter E. Callender synthesis of Zadokite and Deuteronomistic positions.67 Others argue that Ezekiel refutes Deuteronomic ideas, such as the no good laws discussed above.68 Risa Levitt Kohn’s analysis of the relationship between Ezekiel and the P and D/​Dtr traditions draws upon lexical and thematic similarities to argue that Ezekiel shows awareness of P and D/​Dtr, which he reformulated.69 Arguing against those who place Ezekiel chronologically prior to P and D/​Dtr, Levitt Kohn asserts that Ezekiel appropriated these earlier traditions by means of direct literary access. Yet Ezekiel acts independently by integrating both traditions when neither suits his purposes. For Levitt Kohn, Ezekiel was motivated by the desire to create a “unified national theology,” in that P and D/​Dtr represented “rival streams of thought” in pre-​exilic Israel, whose “radical exclusivity” was seen as unrealistic and passé in the trauma of exile. She concludes: “The exile had called into question the unique vision of either school and . . . all of Israel’s history. The prophet instead envisioned Yahweh providing a restored Israel with a new heart and a new soul with which they could face the future.”70 Ezekiel’s activity thus initiated a process of literary synthesis that later scribal tradents employed in redacting the Torah and composing Chronicles, and Ezra-​Nehemiah—​ultimately leading to the realization of Ezekiel’s dream in the final redaction of the Torah. The challenges in sorting out the literary development of Ezekiel, the Pentateuchal sources, and the Deuteronomic tradition have proven formidable. The fact that scholars who focus on Pentateuchal traditions accord chronological priority to Ezekiel while scholars whose focus is Ezekiel argue for the reverse testifies to the extent of the problem.71 Ezekiel scholarship has recognized the need for nuance and precision in method to better address these problems.72

3.3  MT versus Septuagint The value of textual criticism in assessing variant readings among different manuscripts has largely been restricted to its traditionally conceived role as “lower criticism”—​that is, establishing the best text (earliest or standard “received” text). Greenberg’s arguments for accepting MT seem to bear this out.73 This situation shifted somewhat upon continuing consideration of Papyrus 967, a third-​century Greek manuscript (discovered in 1931) that is the earliest substantive witness of Ezekiel.74 Among the more striking divergences from MT are the omission of 36:23c–​38 (including the “new heart” and “new spirit” passage of v. 26) and the transposition of the valley of dry bones (MT ch. 37) and Gog oracles (MT chs. 38–​39). Johan Lust argued the original absence of 36:23–​ 38 in LXX and hypothesized a theological impetus for its addition in MT, specifically the rising pressure of apocalyptic thought.75 Ashley Crane contends that Papyrus 967 and MT represent variant editions of Ezekiel’s understanding of restoration.76 Ingrid Lilly has given further attention to Papyrus 967 “as a text, a variant literary edition and as an artifact of the book of Ezekiel.”77 Beyond Papyrus 967, scholars are beginning to devote greater attention to the Versions as unique expressions of the literary-​textual tradition. As Marvin Sweeney observes, “Consideration of the literary characters

Ezekiel and Israelite Literary Traditions    117 and hermeneutical perspectives of all of the textual versions of Ezekiel, including the Masoretic text, the Septuagint text forms, Targum Jonathan, the Peshitta, the Vulgate, and the other versions remains a desideratum for biblical scholarship.”78 The creative juxtaposing of variants may be characterized as dialogical. At the level of the book, Jeremiah and Ezekiel converse as priestly prophetic personae and in the particulars of their respective content. Within the book, the assemblage of distinctively priestly and Deuteronomic elements places these devices in conversation with one another to serve a larger goal. Variant manuscript expressions of the book bear witness to its development over time and across communities. Although this undoubtedly testifies to a variety of effects elicited in the differences, it also suggests a stability that exceeds the sum of its parts. The many ways variants are brought together and voiced may perhaps be more aptly characterized as contrapuntal, suggesting a collaboration with the traditum that verges on the musical.

4. Transformation A widely accepted characteristic of the book concerns Ezekiel’s apparent reworking of otherwise well-​known traditions.79 Commentators have observed Ezekiel’s bold or exaggerative use of images that appear elsewhere in less egregious forms.80 Ezekiel takes popular images and distorts, enhances, and caricatures them to bring salient aspects to the fore, shifting the attention of the audience. Ezekiel’s graphic elaboration of the metaphor of infidelity (chs. 16, 23), used by earlier prophets such as Hosea (Hosea 1–​3) provides an especially clear example.81 Michael Lyons sees Ezekiel as an example of how “biblical authors were using earlier texts (as opposed to stereotypical speech or oral traditions) and that they were using them in a creative manner.”82 Drawing on Michael Fishbane’s inner-​biblical exegesis and Richard Schultz’s approach to “shared locutions,” Lyons offers a “profile of Ezekiel’s text-​handling techniques” to consider how borrowed materials function in Ezekiel’s arguments.83 Ezekiel is not a work of commentary “connected to its source text by linear exposition.”84 Lyons outlines the principles by which Ezekiel selects, presents, and modifies texts. In the case of the “not good” laws (20:25–​26), Lyons cites the passage as an example of a reversal of Lev 18:4–​5, 21, 24 and 26:31, a modification in which “the author of the target text modifies a locution from the source text in order to affirm the opposite of what is predicated.”85 From this he asserts that the “lethal laws” have “no historical referent.” For Lyons, “Ezekiel makes no attempt to link these statutes and ordinances with any historical law or law corpus. He arrives at this statement simply by reversing the locution from the holiness code.” Lyons argues, it seems, that the bad laws are in effect an expression of Israel’s apostasy: “Israel’s apostasy has reached such a level that something extraordinary must have caused it. In his diagnosis, it can only be that God is ensuring their destruction by giving them ‘ordinances by which they cannot stay alive.’ ” Israel’s apostasy can be explained only as a decree of punishment. In this he concurs with Block,

118   Dexter E. Callender who contends that Ezekiel’s purposes are rhetorical and not intended as a true reconstruction of the past.86 Ezekiel appropriates the authoritative structures of the holiness code to lend vital rhetorical force to his message of hope in exile.87 Transformation of the Israelite traditum is seen in creative redactional processes of the book’s growth and development. The author of the Gog oracle (Ezekiel 38–​39) transforms the book of Ezekiel itself by constructing a supplement created from textual references taken from a variety of biblical sources, including Ezekiel. William Tooman examines sixty shared locutions to suggest the Gog oracle is a pastiche of a range of biblical texts, which the author drew from hundreds of texts from the Torah, Prophets, and Psalms, weaving them for the author’s purpose into a harmonious whole.88 As a pastiche text, the Gog oracle reflects the different genres from which it drew its locutions, topoi, and so forth, but these traditional elements are transformed by being cast in “Ezekiel’s idiolect and compositional style.”89 The author of the oracle never quotes a source for more than a few words, while drawing them from or applying them to the relatively narrow thematic sphere of Israel’s vindication and the fate of the nations—​two topics at the center of the author’s attention. The result is a text that is “awkward and repetitious” yet forms a cohesive and integrated unit that, in the end, authoritatively addresses Israel’s restoration and the fate of the nations by locating its ultimate fulfillment in the eschaton.90 An important aspect of Ezekiel and literary transformation is drawn out by Corrine Carvalho, who recognizes the rhetorical force of the Gog oracle, specifically, “how it functions as an aesthetic artifact [and] what the literature does to and for its audiences(s), particularly in its construction of God.”91 She finds this established in no small measure through the persona of Ezekiel, “[whose] visionary travels to Jerusalem (Ezekiel 1, 8–​11) set the book in a world that sees the un-​see-​able.” The text achieves its aims “through its use of startling and hyperbolic montages that intensify Israel’s narrative traditions about battle.”92 In this way, she contends, the text “negotiates the tension” between the divine destruction of the nation and the divine promise of permanent restoration.93 Using spatial analysis, Carvalho observes that the rhetorical force of the text’s spaces serves to “locate the narrative in a realm outside of but contingent on literal, real or sensible (as in able to be known by the senses) space.”94 The result is the creation of “a virtual world that somehow becomes more real than the physical world.”95 This ritual space is the site where the anxiety of the audience is managed through images of “Yahweh as a God of the whole cosmos.” The text functions to counter the experience of exile by blending “the reality of their collective memory with a virtual reality, projecting an ultimate reality that subverts the dominant ideology of their colonizers.”96 Similarly, Thomas Renz argues that the rhetorical function of the book as a whole was aimed at “shap[ing] the self-​understanding of the exilic community.” The text thus urges its readers to “find their identity neither in Babylon nor in the Jerusalem of the past. . . . The book aims at a renewal which begins with the reading in exile, but will only be complete when Israel worships Yahweh ‘on a very high mountain’ without again defiling the land.”97 Carvalho and Renz call to mind an ongoing transformation of the human agent in relation to the traditum. The shapeshifting character of the traditum correlates with the

Ezekiel and Israelite Literary Traditions    119 character of the given world, the structure of the world as it “shows up” for the individual. For the human agent, this field of experience changes as it is variously framed by cognitive and affective structures that are enacted automatically and unconsciously as the agent moves within the environment. The human agent, as noted above, also enacts structure through tools such as literary devices, engaging them in practices of reading, hearing, and reflecting. As attentional technologies, these devices afford the agent some control over the material agency breaking in on the sphere of human experience in the given world. As captures of material agency and as material agents, these devices, however reshaped, also constrain the human agent in ways that are not always predictable. Thus, the ritual practices of engagement that would bring the agency of these devices to bear on the world befit the metaphor of collaboration.

5.  Ezekiel as and on Israelite Literary Tradition The foregoing suggests that Ezekiel and the tradition that bears his name represent in the sphere of Israelite religious understanding what Pickering characterizes in the sphere of science as “the mangle of practice.” In an ongoing struggle of resistance and accommodation between the human and the material realms, each interactively restructures the other. In Pickering’s calculus, “resistance denotes the failure to achieve an intended capture of agency in practice, and accommodation an active human strategy of response to resistance, which can include revisions to goals and intentions as well as to the material form of the machine in question and to the human frame of gestures and social relations that surround it.”98 Both in general and as applied to Ezekiel, Pickering’s mangle resembles the traditio–​traditum dialectic. Ezekiel reflects what Fishbane observes in the ancient Israelite traditio–​traditum dynamic as the range of strategies used by biblical and later tradents to claim authority and legitimate their activity.99 At the heart of the dynamic, we might say, is the conviction of vital significance and reliable knowledge within the traditum—​a kind of material agency to be captured through traditio. The Israelite literary tradition as represented in Ezekiel conceives itself as conferring life and safeguarding against death. By positing Yahweh as both all-​ powerful tutelary patron of Israel and possessor of ultimate control over the earth, Ezekiel appears to conceive the Israelite traditum—​in its formal structural relation to foreign and biblical materials—​as a culturally specific form of universally valid knowledge. Such a conception treats the canonical structures of various origins—​and their transformed versions—​as devices for revealing the universal life-​conferring way of Yahweh. As the image of Yahweh’s “not good” laws suggests, along with many features of Ezekiel’s book, discovering that way requires an ongoing collaboration of human agents with material agents, with the cultural products which mediate between the realm of human experience and that which ultimately governs it.

120   Dexter E. Callender

Notes 1. Among general studies, see Millar Burrows, The Literary Relations of Ezekiel (Philadelphia, 1925); Kenneth Stanley Freedy, “The Literary Relations of Ezekiel: A Historical Study of Chapters 1–​24,” PhD diss., University of Toronto, 1969; Keith W. Carley, Ezekiel Among the Prophets: A Study of Ezekiel’s Place in Prophetic Tradition (London: SCM, 1975). See also Walther Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 1–​24 (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979), 41–​52; Moshe Greenberg, “Notes on the Influence of Tradition on Ezekiel,” JANES 22 (1993): 29–​37; Paul M. Joyce, Ezekiel: A Commentary (New York: T&T Clark, 2009), 33–​41. 2. Moshe Greenberg, Ezekiel 21–​37: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (Anchor Bible 22A; New York: Doubleday, 1997), 395. 3. Greenberg, Ezekiel 21–​37, 395. 4. Greenberg, Ezekiel 21–​37, 395; see also Greenberg, “Influence of Tradition,” 29–​37, here 29. 5. Greenberg, Ezekiel 21–​37, 396. 6. Georg Fohrer, Die Hauptprobleme des Buches Ezechiel (BZAW; Berlin: Topelmann, 1952), 135; Paul M. Joyce, Ezekiel: A Commentary (New York: T&T Clark, 2009), 35. 7. Michael A. Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel (Oxford: Clarendon, 1985), 8. 8. Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation, 277. 9. Andrew Pickering, The Mangle of Practice: Time, Agency, and Science (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995) 11. See also, Carl Knappett and Lambrous Malrouris, eds., Material Agency: Towards a Non-​Anthrocentric Approach (Berlin: Springer, 2008). 10. Pickering, Mangle, 6. 11. Pickering, Mangle, 7. 12. Edwin Hutchins, “Material Anchors for Conceptual Blends.” Journal of Pragmatics 37, no. 10 (2005): 1555–​1577. See also Fauconnier and Turner. 13. Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 411–​412. 14. Corrine Patton, “ ‘I Myself Gave Them Laws That Were Not Good’: Ezekiel 20 and the Exodus Traditions,” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 21, no. 69 (1996): 79. 15. Scott Hahn and John S. Bergsma, “What Laws Were ‘Not Good’? A Canonical Approach to the Theological Problem of Ezekiel 20:25–​26,” Journal of Biblical Literature 123, no. 2 (2004): 201–​218. 16. Katheryn Pfisterer Darr, “The Book of Ezekiel,” in The New Interpreter’s Bible, ed. L. E. Keck et al. (Nashville: Abingdon, 2001), 6:1284. 17. Many have observed especially close connections between Ezekiel 28 and Neo-​Babylonian text VAT 17019. W. R. Mayer, “Ein Mythos von der Erschaffung des Menschen und des Königs,” Or 56 (1987): 55–​68; Callender, Adam in Myth and History, 98–​99. 18. Daniel I. Block, The Book of Ezekiel: Chapters 25–​48 (New International Commentary on the Old Testament; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998), 117. 19. Block, Ezekiel 25–​48, 120, emphasis added. 20. Block, Ezekiel 25–​48 , 120. 21. Block, Ezekiel 25–​48 , 120. 22. Block, Ezekiel 25–​48, 120. 23. Block, Ezekiel 25–​48, 121. 24. Block, “Divine Abandonment: Ezekiel’s Adaptation of an Ancient Near Eastern Motif,” in The Book of Ezekiel: Theological and Anthropological Perspectives, ed. Margaret S. Odell and John T. Strong (SBL Symposium Series 9; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000), 42. Emphasis added.

Ezekiel and Israelite Literary Traditions    121 25. Block, “Divine Abandonment,” 42. Similarly of Ezek 3:22–​26: “even if Mesopotamian forms have been borrowed, their significance . . . has been radically transformed.” Block, Ezekiel 1–​24, 160. 26. Bodi, Ezekiel and the Poem of Erra, 319. 27. Abraham Winitzer, “Assyriology and Jewish Studies in Tel Aviv: Ezekiel among the Babylonian ‘Literati’,” in Encounters by the Rivers of Babylon: Scholarly Conversations Between Jews, Iranians, and Babylonians in Antiquity, ed. Uri Gabbay and Shai Secunda (Texts and Studies in Ancient Judaism 160; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 163–​216. 28. Winitzer, “Tel Aviv,” 188. 29. Winitzer, “Tel Aviv,” 190. 30. Winitzer, “Tel Aviv,” 188–​189. Following Gunkel. 31. Winitzer, “Tel Aviv,” 175. 32. Winitzer, “Tel Aviv,” 190. 33. Specifically, “elements in Exodus’s tabernacle narrative . . . concerning Moses’ reception of those heavenly tablets to be housed in the tabernacle’s ark not only share important features with Ezekiel but in fact may be derivative of it.” Winitzer, “Tel Aviv,” 169. 34. David S. Vanderhooft, “Ezekiel in and on Babylon,” in Bible et Proche-​Orient: Mélanges André Lemaire (Transeuphratène 46), ed. J.-​M. Durand and J. Elayi (Supplements a Transeuphratène; Paris: Gabalda, 2014), 99–​119; 105. 35. Vanderhooft, “Ezekiel,” 119. 36. Carley, Ezekiel Among the Prophets. 37. Greenberg, Ezekiel 1, 26. 38. Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 68–​74; Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20, 1–​6; Allen, Ezekiel 1–​20, xxv–​xxvi; cf. Sweeney, Isaiah 1–​29, 16–​18. 39. Bodi, Ezekiel and the Poem of Erra, 318. 40. Bodi, Ezekiel and the Poem of Erra, 320. 41. Margaret S. Odell, “Genre and Persona in Ezekiel 24:15–​24,” in Odell and Strong, The Book of Ezekiel, 195–​219, here 197. 42. Odell, “Genre and Persona,” 213–​214. 43. Odell, “Genre and Persona,” 211. More recently: Margaret S. Odell, Ezekiel (Smyth & Helwys Bible Commentary; Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 2005), 8–​9. 44. Odell, “Genre and Persona,” 200. Odell appeals to Fowler’s notion of the “combination and recombination of genres.” See Alastair Fowler, “Life and Death of Literary Forms,” New Literary History 2 (1971): 199–​216. 45. Odell, “Genre and Persona,” 207. 46. Donna Lee Petter, The Book of Ezekiel and Mesopotamian City Laments (Göttingen: Academic Press and Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2011). 47. See Frederick W. Dobbs-​Allsopp, Weep O Daughter of Zion: A Study of the City Lament Genre in the Hebrew Bible (Biblica et Orientalia 44; Roma: Editrice Pontificio Istituto Biblico, 1993). 48. Petter, Ezekiel and Mesopotamian City Laments, 48–​49. 49. Petter, Ezekiel and Mesopotamian City Laments, 143; 48–​49. Following Ellen F. Davis, Swallowing the Scroll: Textuality and the Dynamics of Discourse in Ezekiel’s Prophecy (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament: Supplement Series 78; Sheffield: Almond, 1989;51); against Odell, “You Are What You Eat,” 243, and Darr, “Write or True?: A Response to Ellen Francis Davis,” in Signs and Wonders: Biblical Texts in Literary Focus, ed. J. Cheryl Exum (The Society of Biblical Literature Semeia Series; Scholars Press. 1989; 241). 50. Petter, Ezekiel and Mesopotamian City Laments, 50–​56.

122   Dexter E. Callender 51. Thus Odell—​who, like Dobbs-​Allsopp, Petter, and many others, draws upon Fowler’s work on genre (see for example, Fowler, “Life and Death”)—​appropriately calls for “a more rigorous development of a method . . . to trace the interaction of genres.” Margaret S. Odell, review of Donna Lee Petter, The Book of Ezekiel and Mesopotamian City Laments, Biblica 94, no. 2 (2013): 301–​304, here 303. 52. Ronald E. Clements, Old Testament Prophecy: From Oracles to Canon (Louisville, Ky: Westminster/​John Knox, 1996), 200. 53. Clements, Old Testament Prophecy, 200. 54. Clements, Old Testament Prophecy, 196–​197. 55. Claus Westermann, Basic Forms of Prophetic Speech, trans. Hugh Clayton White (Louisville, KY: Westminster/​John Knox, 1991), 69–​70. 56. Georg Fohrer, Die Hauptprobleme des Buches Ezechiel, BZAW 72 (Berlin: Topelmann, 1952), 135–​140; John W. Miller, Das Verhältnis Jeremias und Hesekiels sprachlich und theologisch untersucht, mit besonderer Berücksichtigung der Prosareden Jeremias (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1955); Dalit Rom-​Shiloni, “Ezekiel and Jeremiah: What Might Stand Behind the Silence?” Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel 1, no. 2 (2012): 203–​230. 57. Rufolf Smend, Der Prophet Ezechiel (Leipzig: Hirzel, 1880), xxiv–​xxv. 58. Miller, Das Verhältnis Jeremias und Hesekiels, 116–​119, passim. 59. Rom-​Shiloni, “Ezekiel and Jeremiah,” 203–​230. 60. As Michael A. Lyons observes, “Locutions from H can be found in all of the four major sections of Ezekiel.” From Law to Prophecy: Ezekiel’s Use of the Holiness Code (Library of Hebrew Bible /​Old Testament Studies; New York: T&T Clark, 2009), 80. On H’s relationship to P, for example, Jacob Milgrom and others have seen H as a pre-​exilic composition by the redactor of P; Jacob Milgrom, Leviticus 17–​22: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (New York: Doubleday, 2000). The complexities are further demonstrated by those who view H as revising P, the Covenant Code, and D. For discussion, see Lyons, From Law to Prophecy, 15–​46. 61. For references and discussion, see Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 46–​48; Lyons, From Law to Prophecy, 36–​37. 62. E.g., Fohrer, Hauptprobleme, 144–​148. 63. Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 47. 64. Corrine L. Patton, “Pan-​Deuteronomism and the Book of Ezekiel,” in Those Elusive Deuteronomists: The Phenomenon of Pan-​Deuteronomism, ed. Linda S. Schearing and Steven L. McKenzie (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 268; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1999), 200–​ 215; Robert A. Kugler, “The Deuteronomists and the Latter Prophets,” in Schearing and McKenzie, Elusive Deuteronomists, 127–​144, esp. 143–​144. 65. Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1–​24, 46. 66. Siegfried Herrmann, Die prophetischen Heilserwartungen im Alten Testament: Ursprung und Gestaltwandel (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1965); Rüdiger Liwak, “Uberlieferungsgeschichtliche Probleme des Ezechielbuches: Eine Studie zu postezechielischen Interpretationen und Kompositionen,” PhD diss., Ruhr-​Universität Bochum, 1976. 67. Robert R. Wilson, Prophecy and Society in Ancient Israel (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1980), 283–​284. 68. Thus Jacques Pons, “Le vocabulaire d’Ezechiel 20: le prophete s’oppose a la vision Deuteronomiste de l’Histoire,” in Ezekiel and His Book: Textual and Literary Criticism and Their Interpretation, ed. J. Lust (Leuven: University Press, 1986), 214–​233.

Ezekiel and Israelite Literary Traditions    123 69. Risa Levitt Kohn, A New Heart and a New Soul: Ezekiel, the Exile and the Torah (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament: Supplement Series; London: Sheffield Academic, 2002), 1–​5. 70. Levitt Kohn, New Heart, 113. 71. Karl-​Friedrich Pohlmann, “Ezekiel: New Directions and Current Debates,” in Ezekiel: Current Debates and Future Directions, ed. William A. Tooman and Penelope Barter (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017), 4–​17, here 11. 72. See, for example, Dalit Rom-​Shiloni, review of Risa Levitt Kohn, A New Heart and a New Soul: Ezekiel, the Exile and the Torah, Journal of Biblical Literature 123, no. 2 (2004): 342–​ 345; Pohlmann, “Ezekiel: New Directions,” 11–​12. 73. Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20, 18–​22. 74. See Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 75–​77; Block, Ezekiel 25–​48, 337–​343. 75. Johan Lust, “Ezekiel 36–​40 in the Oldest Greek Manuscript,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 43 (1981): 517–​533; Ingrid E. Lilly, Two Books of Ezekiel: Papyrus 967 and the Masoretic Text as Variant Literary Editions (VTSup 150; Leiden: Brill, 2012), 2–​3. 76. Ashley Crane, Israel’s Restoration: A Textual-​Comparative Exploration of Ezekiel 36–​39 (VTSup 122; Boston: Brill, 2008). See Lilly, Two Books of Ezekiel, 3. 77. Lilly, Two Books of Ezekiel, 26. 78. Marvin A. Sweeney, “Foreword,” in Transforming Visions: Transformations of Text, Tradition, and Theology in Ezekiel, ed. William A. Tooman and Michael A. Lyons (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2010), xxiv. 79. Patton, “Pan-​Deuteronomism,” 205–​208. 80. Patton, “Pan-​Deuteronomism,” 206. 81. See, among others, Julie Galambush, Jerusalem in the Book of Ezekiel: The City as Yahweh’s Wife (SBL Dissertation Series 130; Atlanta: Scholars, 1992). 82. Lyons, From Law to Prophecy, 11; emphasis original. 83. Lyons, From Law to Prophecy, 12, 76–​109. See also Lyons, “Marking Innerbiblical Allusion in the Book of Ezekiel,” Biblica 88.2 (2007): 24–​50. 84. Lyons, From Law to Prophecy, 76. 85. Lyons, From Law to Prophecy, 99–​100. 86. Lyons, From Law to Prophecy, 106. 87. Lyons, From Law to Prophecy, see esp. 110–​145. 88. William A. Tooman, Gog of Magog: Reuse of Scripture and Compositional Technique in Ezekiel 38–​39 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011). 89. Tooman, Gog of Magog, 38–​84. 90. Tooman, “Transformation of Israel’s Hope: The Reuse of Scripture in the Gog Oracles,” in Tooman and Lyons, Transforming Visions, 82. 91. Corrine L. Carvalho, “The God That Gog Creates: ‘Drop the Stories and Feel the Feelings’,” in The God Ezekiel Creates, ed. Paul M. Joyce and Dalit Rom-​Shiloni (Library of Hebrew Bible /​Old Testament Studies 607; London: Bloomsbury, 2015), 107–​131. 92. Carvalho, “God That Gog Creates,” 107–​108. 93. Carvalho, “God That Gog Creates,” 108. 94. Carvalho, “God That Gog Creates.” 95. Carvalho, “God That Gog Creates,” 116. 96. Carvalho, “The God the Gog Creates,” 130. 97. Renz, Rhetorical Function, 229. 98. Pickering, Mangle, 22. 99. See Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation, 525–​543.

124   Dexter E. Callender

Bibliography Allen, Leslie C. Ezekiel 1–​19. Word Biblical Commentary 28. Waco, TX: Word Books, 1994. Allen, Leslie C. Ezekiel 20–​48. Word Biblical Commentary 29. Waco, TX: Word Books, 1990. Block, Daniel I. “Divine Abandonment: Ezekiel’s Adaptation of an Ancient Near Eastern Motif.” In Odell and Strong, Book of Ezekiel, 15–​42. Block, Daniel I. The Book of Ezekiel: Chapters 1–​24. New International Commentary on the Old Testament. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997. Block, Daniel I. The Book of Ezekiel: Chapters 25–​48. New International Commentary on the Old Testament. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998. Bouzard, Walter. We Have Heard with Our Ears, O God: Sources of the Communal Laments in the Psalms. SBL Dissertation Series 159. Atlanta: Scholars, 1997. Burrows, Millar. The Literary Relations of Ezekiel. Philadelphia, 1925. Callender, Dexter E., Jr. “The Primal Human in Ezekiel and the Image of God.” In Odell and Strong, Book of Ezekiel, 175–​193. SBL Symposium Series 9. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000. Carley, Keith W. Ezekiel Among the Prophets: A Study of Ezekiel’s Place in Prophetic Tradition. London: SCM, 1975. Carl, Knappett, and Malafouris Lambros, eds. Material Agency: Towards a Non-​Anthropocentric Approach. Berlin: Springer Verlag, 2008. Carvalho, Corrine L. The Book of Ezekiel: Question by Question. New York: Paulist Press, 2010. Carvalho, Corrine L. “The God That Gog Creates: ‘Drop the Stories and Feel the Feelings’.” In The God Ezekiel Creates, edited by Paul M. Joyce and Dalit Rom-​Shiloni, 107–​131. Library of Hebrew Bible /​Old Testament Studies 607. London and New York: Bloomsbury, 2015. Clements, Ronald E. Old Testament Prophecy: From Oracles to Canon. Louisville, Ky: Westminster/​John Knox, 1996. Crane, Ashley. Israel’s Restoration: A Textual-​Comparative Exploration of Ezekiel 36–​39. VTSup 122. Boston: Brill, 2008. Darr, Katheryn Pfisterer. “Write or True?: A Response to Ellen Francis Davis.” in Signs and Wonders: Biblical Texts in Literary Focus, edited by J. Cheryl Exum, 239–​247. The Society of Biblical Literature Semeia Series. Scholars Press. 1989. Darr, Katheryn Pfisterer. “The Book of Ezekiel.” In The New Interpreter’s Bible, edited by L. E. Keck et al., 6:1284. Nashville: Abingdon, 2001. Davis, Ellen F. Swallowing the Scroll: Textuality and the Dynamics of Discourse in Ezekiel’s Prophecy. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 78. Sheffield: Almond Press, 1989. Dobbs-​Allsopp, Frederick W. Weep, O Daughter of Zion: A Study of the City-​Lament Genre in the Hebrew Bible. Biblica et Orientalia 44. Rome: Editrice Pontificio Istituto Biblico, 1993. Fishbane, Michael A. Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel. Oxford: Clarendon, 1985. Fohrer, Georg. Die Hauptprobleme Des Buches Ezechiel. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 72. Berlin: Topelmann, 1952. Freedy, Kenneth Stanley. “The Literary Relations of Ezekiel. A Historical Study of Chapters 1–​24.” PhD diss., University of Toronto, 1969. Galambush, Julie. Jerusalem in the Book of Ezekiel: The City as Yahweh’s Wife. SBL Dissertation Series 130. Atlanta: Scholars, 1992. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 1–​20. The Anchor Bible 22. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1983. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 21–​37: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. The Anchor Bible 22A. New York: Doubleday, 1997.

Ezekiel and Israelite Literary Traditions    125 Greenberg, Moshe. “Notes on the Influence of Tradition on Ezekiel.” JANES 22 (1993): 29–​37. Hahn, Scott Walker, and John Sietze Bergsma. “What Laws Were ‘Not Good’? A Canonical Approach to the Theological Problem of Ezekiel 20:25–​26.” Journal of Biblical Literature 123, no. 2 (2004): 201–​218. Herrmann, Siegfried. Die prophetischen Heilserwartungen im Alten Testament: Ursprung und Gestaltwandel. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1965. Hutchins, Edwin. “Material Anchors for Conceptual Blends.” Journal of Pragmatics 37, no. 10 (2005): 1555–​77. Joyce, Paul M. Ezekiel: A Commentary. New York: T&T Clark, 2009. Knierim, Rolf. “Criticism of Literary Features, Form, Tradition, and Redaction.” Pages 123–​165 in The Hebrew Bible and Its Modern Interpreters. Edited by Douglas A. Knight and Gene M. Tucker. Philadelphia, PA and Chico, CA: Fortress/​Scholars, 1985. Knohl, Israel. The Sanctuary of Silence: The Priestly Torah and the Holiness School. Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995. Kruger, Thomas. “Transformations of History in Ezekiel 20.” In Tooman and Lyons, Transforming Visions, 159–​186. Kugler, Robert A. “The Deuteronomists and the Latter Prophets.” In Schearing and Steven L. McKenzie, Elusive Deuteronomists, 127–​144. Levitt Kohn, Risa. “Ezekiel at the Turn of the Century.” Currents in Biblical Research 2, no. 1 (2003): 9–​31. Lilly, Ingrid E. Two Books of Ezekiel: Papyrus 967 and the Masoretic Text as Variant Literary Editions. VTSup 150. Leiden: Brill, 2012. Liwak, Rüdiger. “Uberlieferungsgeschichtliche Probleme des Ezechielbuches: Eine Studie zu postezechielischen Interpretationen und Kompositionen.” PhD diss., Ruhr-​Universität Bochum, 1976. Lust, Johan. Ezekiel and His Book: Textual and Literary Criticism and Their Interrelation. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1986. Lust, Johan. “Ezekiel 36–​40 in the Oldest Greek Manuscript.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 43 (1981): 517–​533. Lyons, Michael A. An Introduction to the Study of Ezekiel. London and New York: Bloomsbury, 2015. Lyons, Michael A. From Law to Prophecy: Ezekiel’s Use of the Holiness Code. Library of Hebrew Bible /​Old Testament Studies 507. New York: T&T Clark, 2009. Lyons, Michael A. “Marking Innerbiblical Allusion in the Book of Ezekiel.” Biblica 88 (2007): 245–​250. Milgrom, Jacob. Leviticus 17–​22: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. Anchor Bible 3A. New York: Doubleday, 2000. Miller, Geoffrey D. “Intertextuality in Old Testament Research.” Currents in Biblical Research9, no. 3 (2010): 283–​309. Miller, John W. Das Verhältnis Jeremias und Hesekiels sprachlich und theologisch untersucht, mit besonderer Berücksichtigung der Prosareden Jeremias. Assen: Van Gorcum, 1955. Odell, Margaret S. Ezekiel. Smyth & Helwys Bible Commentary. Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 2005. Odell, Margaret S. “Ezekiel Saw What He Said He Saw: Genres, Form, and the Vision of Ezekiel 1.” In The Changing Face of Form Criticism for the Twenty-​First Century, edited by Marvin A. Sweeney and Ehud Ben Zvi, 162–​176. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2003. Odell, Margaret S. “Genre and Persona in Ezekiel 24:15–​24.” In Odell and Strong, Book of Ezekiel, 195–​219.

126   Dexter E. Callender Odell, Margaret S. Review of Donna Lee Petter, The Book of Ezekiel and Mesopotamian City Laments. Biblica 94 (2013): 301–​304. Odell, Margaret S. “You Are What You Eat: Ezekiel and the Scroll.” Journal of Biblical Literature 117 (1998): 229–​248. Odell, Margaret S., and John T. Strong, eds. The Book of Ezekiel: Theological and Anthropological Perspectives. SBL Symposium Series 9. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000. Patton, Corrine L. “ ‘I Myself Gave Them Laws That Were Not Good’: Ezekiel 20 and the Exodus Traditions.” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 21 (1996): 73–​90. Patton, Corrine L. “Pan-​Deuteronomism and the Book of Ezekiel.” In Schearing and McKenzie, Elusive Deuteronomists, 200–​215. Petter, Donna Lee. The Book of Ezekiel and Mesopotamian City Laments. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2011. Pickering Andrew. The Mangle of Practice: Time, Agency, and Science. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995. Pohlmann, Karl-​Friedrich. “Ezekiel: New Directions and Current Debates.” In Tooman and Barter, Ezekiel, 4–​17. Pons, Jacques. “Le vocabulaire d’Ezechiel 20: le prophete s’oppose a la vision deuteronomiste de l’histoire.” In Ezekiel and His Book: Textual and Literary Criticism and Their Interpretation, edited by J. Lust, 214–​233. Leuven: University Press, 1986. Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit. “Ezekiel and Jeremiah: What Might Stand Behind the Silence?” Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel 1, no. 2 (2012): 203–​230. Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit. Review of Risa Levitt Kohn, A New Heart and a New Soul: Ezekiel, the Exile and the Torah, Journal of Biblical Literature 123, no. 2 (2004): 342–​345. Schearing, Linda S., and Steven L. McKenzie, eds. Those Elusive Deuteronomists: The Phenomenon of Pan-​Deuteronomism. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 268. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1999. Schultz, Richard L. The Search for Quotation: Verbal Parallels in the Prophets. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament: Supplement Series 180. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1999. Smend, Rudolf. Der Prophet Ezechiel. Leipzig: Hirzel, 1880. Stökl, Jonathan. “Schoolboy Ezekiel: Remarks on the Transmission of Learning.” Die Welt des Orients 45 (2015): 50–​61. Strong, John T. “Cosmic Re-​Creation and Ezekiel’s Vocabulary.” In Tooman and Barter, Ezekiel: Current Debates and Future Directions, edited by William A. Tooman and Penelope Barter, 245–​284. Tubingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017. Sweeney, Marvin A. “Ezekiel: Zadokite Priest and Visionary Prophet of the Exile.” Society of Biblical Literature Seminar Papers, no. 39 (2000): 728–​751. Sweeney, Marvin A. “Foreword.” In Tooman and Lyons, Transforming Visions, xv–​xxv. Sweeney, Marvin A. “The Prophets and Prophetic Books, Prophetic Circles and Traditions -​ New Trends, Including Religio-​Psychological Aspects.” Pages 500–​530 in Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament: The History of Its Interpretation. Volume 3, Part 2, edited by Magne Sæbø et al. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2014. Tooman, William A. “Transformation of Israel’s Hope: The Reuse of Scripture in the Gog Oracles.” In Tooman and Lyons, Transforming Visions, 50–​110. Tooman, William A. Gog of Magog: Reuse of Scripture and Compositional Technique in Ezekiel 38–​39. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011. Tooman, William A., and Penelope Barter, eds. Ezekiel: Current Debates and Future Directions. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017.

Ezekiel and Israelite Literary Traditions    127 Tooman, William A., and Michael A. Lyons, eds. Transforming Visions: Transformations of Text, Tradition, and Theology in Ezekiel. Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2010. Torrey, Charles Cutler. Pseudo-​Ezekiel and the Original Prophecy. New York: Ktav Publishing House, 1970. Vanderhooft, David S. “Ezekiel in and on Babylon.” In Bible et Proche-​Orient: Melanges Andre Lemaire, edited by J.-​M. Durand and J. Elayi, 99–​119. Supplements a Transeuphratène. Paris: Gabalda, 2014. Westermann, Claus. Basic Forms of Prophetic Speech. Translated by Hugh Clayton White. Louisville, KY: Westminster/​John Knox, 1991. Winitzer, Abraham. “Assyriology and Jewish Studies in Tel Aviv: Ezekiel among the Babylonian ‘Literati’.” In Encounters by the Rivers of Babylon: Scholarly Conversations Between Jews, Iranians, and Babylonians in Antiquity, edited by Uri Gabbay and Shai Secunda, 163–​216. Texts and Studies in Ancient Judaism 160. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezekiel 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 1–​24. Translated by Ronald E. Clements. Hermeneia. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezekiel 2: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 25–​48. Translated by James D. Martin. Hermeneia. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983.

Chapter 7

Text-​C ritic a l I s su e s in Eze k i e l Timothy P. Mackie

Many areas of Ezekiel scholarship have significantly developed in the last half-​century, as this volume attests. Research on the book’s complicated textual history is no exception. The discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls provided invaluable new data for understanding the history of the biblical text in the period of the Jewish Second Temple. New paradigms have emerged for research into the Old Greek translation of the Hebrew scriptures (a.k.a. “the Septuagint”). All of this has dramatically affected how scholars evaluate the text of Ezekiel. This chapter will help orient the reader to the most important textual witnesses to Ezekiel and the recent scholarly discussion about them. We will then explore several representative text samples, so that the reader can understand the unique dynamics at work in Ezekiel’s text history.

1.  The Ancient Text Witnesses of Ezekiel and Their Evaluation The Hebrew text of Ezekiel has been preserved for us in two distinct manuscript traditions:1 (1) The Hebrew texts from the Judean desert, specifically the fragments from the Qumran caves and Masada, turned up six fragmentary texts of Ezekiel that all date from the first century bce to the first century ce. They offer a presumably representative sample of the Ezekiel text in this period, which matches closely the later medieval Masoretic manuscripts, most importantly the Aleppo Codex (ca. 930 ce) and the Leningrad Codex (ca. 1008 ce). Upon comparison, these two bodies of Hebrew manuscripts, which are separated by many centuries, are remarkably similar and display only minor textual variants. The medieval manuscripts are called the “Masoretic

Text-Critical Issues in Ezekiel     129 text” (MT), while the earlier fragmentary texts are labeled “proto-​MT.”2 (2) The other most significant text witness to the Hebrew text of Ezekiel is the Old Greek translation (OG), produced in the third-​to-​second century bce. The text of this translation is best preserved for us in two principal manuscripts, Codex Vaticanus (lxxb) dating from the mid-​fourth century ce, and Papyrus 967 (lxx967), dated to the late second or early third century ce. There are other witnesses to the OG, but they show later stages of revision or correction toward the text of the MT.3 The OG translation of Ezekiel is characterized by two important features in relation to the MT text. First, the wording of the Greek translation is precisely mapped onto its base text, mimicking the uniquely Hebraic sentence structures and word order.4 Second, and noticeably, there are a large number of quantitative differences between the Greek and Hebrew witnesses, so that entire words, phrases, and sentences present in the MT of Ezekiel are not represented in the translation (and, much less often, vice-​versa). More specifically, there are some 350 instances where the MT of Ezekiel contain additional words or phrases not found in the OG text, making it some 5 percent longer.5 Three of these cases involve larger sections that are absent in the OG (MT Ezek 12:26–​28; 32:24b–​ 26; 36:23c–​38); and one primary witness to the OG (lxx967) has a different arrangement of ­chapters 36–​39 of the book (see Table 7.1).6 This state of affairs has been variously explained. (1) Perhaps the OG translator had before him a Hebrew text similar to the MT, but through unintentional scribal error combined with an intentional effort to abbreviate the text, he produced a shortened Greek edition. Or, (2) the OG translator had before him a Hebrew version of Ezekiel that did not contain the additional material present in the MT text and had a different arrangement in ­chapters 36–​39. The implication of (2) is that we have in the MT up to 350 cases of identifiable scribal intervention, where a shorter Hebrew text was supplemented, expanded, or rearranged, resulting in a longer, edited version. While a small number of scholars have held view (1),7 the vast majority are convinced that the OG and MT present us with variant literary editions and that the MT constitutes a thoroughly supplemented text.8 This text-​critical state of affairs in Ezekiel fits into a larger pattern of textual evidence for other scriptural scrolls in the Second Temple Period. The Qumran scrolls and the Old Greek translation, which date to the same time period (250 bce to 100 ce), offer

Table 7.1. Manuscript Differences in the Order of Ezekiel 36–​48 Order of Passages in MT Ezekiel

Order of Passages in lxx967 Ezekiel

Ezek 36:1–​23b Ezek 36:23c–​38 Ezekiel 37 Ezekiel 38–​39 Ezekiel 40–​48

Ezek 36:1–​23b —​ Ezekiel 38–​39 Ezekiel 37 Ezekiel 40–​48

130   Timothy P. Mackie many parallel examples of large-​scale differences in the text of Samuel and Jeremiah, and to a lesser degree in the text of Exodus, Deuteronomy, and Joshua, and other texts.9 In these cases, the Qumran scrolls corroborate the evidence of the OG translation, showing that large-​scale textual differences cannot automatically be attributed to the translator. Rather, the OG bears witness to variant text-​forms of the Hebrew Bible that are ancient and co-​existed alongside the MT.10 Before the discovery of the Qumran scrolls, the OG of Ezekiel was employed primarily to repair a supposedly corrupted MT in order to reconstruct a hypothetical Urtext of Ezekiel that preceded both witnesses.11 It was the work of two scholars, M. Greenberg and W. Zimmerli, that carried the discussion forward in two important ways. Greenberg argued that the OG and MT of Ezekiel bear witness to two ancient and distinct editions of the book that cannot be simply fused together to reconstruct a putative “original Ezekiel.”12 Rather, each has its own literary integrity that cannot be reduced to the other. This was a needed corrective to earlier scholarship, but Greenberg left unexplained the clearly genetic relationship between the OG and MT versions of Ezekiel. Both text editions were based on a common ancestor, which means that we can compare their differences and so identify the unique textual profile of the MT and the Hebrew text underneath the OG. This has become the main research project of current scholarship on the Ezekiel text. The contributions of W. Zimmerli were equally crucial.13 He characterized the entire process of Ezekiel’s composition, from its earliest stages down to the longer text of the MT, as one of Fortschreibung, “scribal expansion.” He showed how the line between authorial composition and scribal transmission is blurred in Ezekiel, as each section of the book grew from a core of earlier material that was subsequently expanded and then developed into larger, interconnected wholes. He argued that this process was begun by the prophet himself and then carried on by scribes of later periods, including the expansions identifiable in the MT (and occasionally in the OG). Instead of describing these expansions as corruptions, Zimmerli showed how they were thoughtful, deliberate, and literarily sensitive to their respective contexts as the book developed. This led to a new season of scholarship on Ezekiel that uses the textual witnesses as evidence for the final stages of the book’s compositional growth.14 More recent studies have focused on the unique literary shape of sections of OG or MT Ezekiel,15 or of OG Ezekiel as a whole.16 There has also been work that aims to situate the scribal expansions found in Ezekiel in the larger context of Jewish scribal activity in the period of the Second Temple.17 Essentially, these scribal interventions aimed at “facilitating” the reader’s encounter with the scriptural text, making it more coherent and comprehensible. Also, at a crucial and early stage in the book’s composition, Ezekiel was integrated into the emerging collection of scriptural scrolls, and this too had a profound impact upon the book’s textual shape.18 The evidence for this scribal activity is supplied primarily by the MT and OG versions, and it is to examples of this phenomenon that we now turn.

Text-Critical Issues in Ezekiel     131

2.  Expansions that Increase Coherence Many instances of scribal expansion in Ezekiel offer explanatory comments in passages that contain opaque or dense statements that are difficult to understand. In these cases, scribes apparently sought to clarify textual ambiguities by the addition of words or phrases that are marked in [bold brackets].

2.1  Ezekiel 3:14 “And the Spirit lifted me up and took me, and I left [embittered] in the heat of my spirit, and the hand of Yhwh was heavy upon me.”19

Here Ezekiel describes his emotional state after encountering the divine presence and being commissioned as a prophet to Israel. The otherwise unattested phrase “in the heat of my spirit” (‫ ַּבחֲ מַ ת רו ִּחי‬băḥămaṯ rûḥî) is ambiguous, as it could describe the prophet’s angry reaction (as in Dan 8:6, ֹ ‫ ַּבחֲ מַ ת כּ ֹחו‬baḥămaṯ kōhô “in the heat of his strength”), or it could refer to a state of astonishment.20 The word “embittered” (‫ מַ ר‬mar) in the MT is absent in the OG (and Syriac Peshitta). Presumably it represents an effort to ensure that the phrase in question is understood in the sense of angry resentment. This interpretive clarification was likely generated by two clues in the nearby context. First, earlier in the narrative, though the prophet had shown no resistance, God warned Ezekiel to not rebel against his commission (2:8, ‫ל־ת ִהי־מֶ ִרי‬ ְּ ַ‫ א‬ˀal-təhî-merî “don’t be rebellious”). This warning contains a homonym (from the root ‫ מרה‬m-​r-​h “rebel”) to one of the words found in the scribal addition, and so can be identified as the source of the expansion’s vocabulary. Second, in the next verse following the odd phrase “in the heat of my spirit,” Ezekiel describes himself as “horrified” (‫ מַ ׁ ְש ִמים‬mašmîm, 3:15), providing contextual leverage to construe his “hot spirit” as negative. In this example, a semantically opaque idiom has been clarified by the addition of a single word that was itself suggested by a scribe’s close study of the immediate context.

2.2  Ezekiel 12:12 “And the prince who is among them will carry on his shoulder at dusk, and he will go out. . . . He will cover his face, so that [he] cannot see with the eyes [he, the land].”

The concluding words of this statement in the MT are syntactically awkward. They stand outside of the sentence and are not present in OG Ezekiel. However, when the three words in question (‫ הוּא אֶ ת־הָ אָ ֶרץ‬hûˀ ˀeṯ-hāˀāreṣ) are understood as clarifications to corresponding referents within the sentence, their purpose becomes clear. The meaning

132   Timothy P. Mackie of the Hebrew consonantal text is capable of two opposite interpretations: (1) Zedekiah will cover his face so that he cannot see the land with his own eyes as he escapes the besieged city (active vocalization of “see,” ‫ י ְִראֶ ה‬yirˀeh); (2) He will cover his face with a disguise so that he cannot be seen by others (passive vocalization of “see,” ‫ י ֵָראֶ ה‬yērāˀeh). Interpretation (2) is reflected by the OG translation, “so that he will not be seen by the eyes” (lxx967 me horathe ophthalmo), whereas the MT vocalization of “he will see” adopts option (1), leaving the subject and object of “he will see” unmarked. The scribal additions in the MT directly follow and are meant to be conceptually inserted into their appropriate syntactic slots in the previous sentence: “so that he [‫ הוּא‬hu] cannot see the land (‫ אֶ ת־הָ אָ ֶרץ‬ˀeṯ-hāˀāreṣ) with the eyes.” This solution was not an innovation, however, as it simply adopted the parallel statement from earlier in the sign-​act narrative where God directed Ezekiel, “do not cover your face, so you will not see the land (‫ אֶ ת־הָ אָ ֶרץ‬ˀeṯ-hāˀāreṣet, v. 6). On analogy with Ezekiel’s symbolic behavior, the oracle was clarified to safeguard a consistent interpretation.

2.3  Ezekiel 31:8b–​9a “No tree in the garden of God could be likened to it in its beauty [I made it beautiful], with its many branches.”

Ezekiel 31:1–​9 is a parable about the power and position of the king of Egypt. He is likened to a tall cedar tree that flourished alongside a river and provided sustenance and shade for all the creatures of the forest (vv. 5–​6). The entire parable is framed as the prophet’s word about Pharaoh the king of Egypt (v. 2, “Son of man, say about Pharaoh . . . ”), which then is cast as a third-​person narrative depiction of the tree. In verse 8, the scene shifts as the tree is now located in the “garden of god,” where it has no equal in comparison to its beauty. Suddenly, with no contextual indicators of a shift in speaker, a first-​person divine speech appears in the MT: “I made it beautiful” (v. 9a, ‫יתיו‬ ִ ‫ יָפֶ ה ֲע ִׂש‬yāp̄eh ˁăśîṯîw). This short addition adopts key words from the preceding context (v. 8b, “No tree is like it in its beauty,” ֹ ‫ ְּביָפְ יו‬bəyop̄yô; v. 3, “a cedar of Lebanon, beautiful of leaf,” ‫ יְפֵ ה‬yəp̄ēh), and then attributes the tree’s beauty to Yhwh’s creative power. The MT addition also creates a new sentence structure, as the words “with its many branches” (31:9a) now refer to the beauty God bestowed on the tree, as opposed to the OG text, in which the branches are evidence of its incomparability with any other tree in Eden. What is significant about this scribal expansion is its literary and theological sensitivity, introducing a theological concept that is implicit within the parable but nowhere stated: that Egypt’s power and success (i.e., its “beauty”) was bestowed by Yhwh’s generous and creative power. This brings this parable into closer alignment with the other tree parables in Ezekiel 17 and 19, where God’s role in planting and sustaining the tree is clear (17:2–​6; 19:9–​11). The sudden appearance of first-​person divine speech in a third-​ person narrative parable is helpful as a literary-​critical marker of the addition, but also notice that the vocabulary of the expansion is, once again, drawn from the context.

Text-Critical Issues in Ezekiel     133

3.  Expansions that Coordinate Texts within Ezekiel Another important set of examples reveals the motives and interpretive practices of the scribes who introduced these expansions into the text. When passages in the book share similar vocabulary or themes, their connection is often increased by means of textual additions. This reflects the scribe’s intimate knowledge of minute details in Ezekiel’s prophecies, but it also shows their efforts to ensure that later readers discover a cohesive theological message within these diverse texts.

3.1  Ezekiel 1:24 “And I heard the sound of their wings, like the sound of many waters [like the sound of the almighty] as they moved. . . .”

There are three similar vision reports in Ezekiel (chs. 1, 10, 43) located at key structural junctures in the book’s literary design and rhetorical shape. Already within the compositional history of Ezekiel, these three visions of the same divine chariot-​throne had been coordinated with each other through cross-​references.21 Ezekiel 1:24 shows how this process continued throughout the book’s development. Ezekiel describes the sounds made by the divine presence as: “like the sound of many waters” (‫ְּכקו ֹל מַ יִם ַר ִּבים‬ kəqôl mayim rabbîm). This is precisely how Ezekiel describes the divine glory in his later vision of the new Jerusalem (43:2, “And behold, the glory of the God of Israel came . . . and its sound was like the sound of many waters,” ‫ ְּכקו ֹל מַ יִם ַר ִּבים‬kəqôl mayim rabbîm). There are dozens of other intertextual links between the three vision reports that coordinate Ezekiel’s diverse descriptions, bringing them into closer alignment.22 In 1:24, the additional material in the MT version (“like the sound of the Almighty”) has been adopted from the vision in 10:5: “ . . . the sound of the wings of the cherubim . . . was like the sound of God almighty when he speaks” (‫ל־שדַּ י‬ ַ ׁ ֵ‫ ְּכקו ֹל א‬kəqôl ˀel-šadday). In this case, the scribe who supplemented 1:24 has made an exegetical equation between the “living creatures” (‫ חַ ּיו ֹת‬ḥayyôṯ) supporting the divine chariot in Ezekiel 1 and the “cherubim” who play the same role in 10:5. Even though Ezekiel described what he saw with different vocabulary in the various vision reports, the scribes make it clear that he saw one-​and-​the-​same divine presence, so that descriptions from one vision can be transferred to the others.

3.2  Ezekiel 6:10 “And they will know that I am Yhwh. [Not without reason] have I spoken [to do to them this calamity].”

134   Timothy P. Mackie There are two separate phrases in the MT which are not represented in the OG text, resulting in shorter sentence: “And they will know that I, Yhwh, have spoken.” An identical conclusion formula appears in the MT text of 17:21 (“and you will know that I, Yhwh, have spoken), making it likely that the MT reading in 6:10 is the result of scribal expansion. The motivation for this addition requires a knowledge of Ezekiel’s other oracles of judgment, specifically 14:22–​23. But in order to appreciate the scribe’s contribution, we must first consider the unique content and themes of this passage, 6:8–​10. Ezekiel 6 is a judgment oracle against “the mountains of Israel” (6:1) denouncing the cultic installations on the hilltops of Israel that will soon be destroyed (6:3b–​7). In the middle of the oracle, however, the addressee shifts suddenly from the mountains to the people who are performing rituals in the shrines (6:5); and their impending deaths are announced (6:5, 7). In the conclusion, Yhwh states that only a remnant will escape (“there will be for you those who escape the sword,” ‫ ּ ְפלִ יטֵ י חֶ ֶרב‬pəlîṭê ḥereḇ, 6:8a), who will go into exile among the nations (“when you are scattered among the lands,” 6:8b). But this remnant will be spared only to stew over their apostasy and “loathe themselves” (‫ וְ ָנק ֹּט ּו ִּבפְ נֵיהֶ ם‬wənāqōṭṭû bip̄nêhem, 6:9b). Then comes a concluding formula in 6:10; it assures the exiles that when these events take place, they will know it was part of the divine plan: “I, Yhwh, have spoken.” The same themes (“remnant,” “remembering,” “loathing oneself ”) and rhetorical shape of this judgment oracle reappear in other passages in Ezekiel (e.g., 20:43; 36:31). One of these, 14:22–​23, highlights the same ideas with vocabulary similar to Ezekiel 6. Ezekiel 14 explores four hypothetical scenarios designed to convince the reader of the inevitability and legitimacy of Jerusalem’s destruction (vv. 13–​20). However, Yhwh announces that after the disaster, there will be an “escaped remnant” (‫ ּ ְפלֵטָ ה‬pəlēṭāh, v. 22) that will go into exile, and that will cause grief for those already exiled in Babylon. The concluding line of this oracle in verses 22–​23 not only is similar to 6:10, but also it presumably supplied the scribe with vocabulary for the additions found in the MT there (see Table 7.2). Many verbal and thematic connections already linked those two passages; the pre-​ existing relationships prompted further coordination by means of scribal addition. Note that the expansions in 6:10 were inserted into already existing syntactic slots. The result is that the longer version of the conclusion now has the same rhetorical function as

Table 7.2. Similarities between Ezekiel 14:22–​23 and 6:10 14:22–​23

“And you will be sorry about the calamity (‫ הָ ָרעָ ה‬hārāˁāh) which I brought upon Jerusalem, . . . and you will know (‫ידעְ ּ ֶתם‬ ַ ִ‫ ו‬wiḏaˁtem) that I did not do it (‫יתי‬ ִ ‫עָ ִׂש‬ ˁāśîtî) without reason (‫ ל ֹא ִח ּנָם‬lōˀ ḥinnām).

6:10

“And they will know that I, Yhwh [not without reason, ‫ל־ח ּנָם‬ ִ ֶ‫ ל ֹא א‬lōˀ ḥinnām] have spoken [to do this calamity to them, ‫שו ֹת לָהֶ ם הָ ָרעָ ה הַ ז ֹּאת‬ ׂ ‫ ַל ֲע‬laˁăśôṯ lāhem hārāˁāh hazzōˀt].

Text-Critical Issues in Ezekiel     135 the conclusion in 14:22–​23. Both texts now reinforce that Jerusalem’s destruction will be seen as legitimate and part of the divine plan.

3.3  Ezekiel 38:3b–​4 “Behold, I am against you, Gog . . . [and I will turn you around and I will put hooks in your jaws] and I will bring out you and all your army.”

This text contains God’s opening statement in the Gog oracles (Ezekiel 38–​39), that he will personally lead out Gog and his hordes. The shorter version preserved in the OG text contains only one verb, “I will bring you out” (‫ֵאתי או ְֹת ָך‬ ִ ‫ וְ הוֹצ‬wəhôṣēˀtî ˀôṯəḵā), while the MT version contains two more verbal clauses, each drawn from different passages ָ ‫ ׁוְשו ֹבַ בְ ִּת‬wəšôḇaḇtîḵā) appears in the book. The first verb “and I will turn you around” (‫יך‬ in the introduction to the second section of the Gog oracles in 39:2, “and I will turn you ָ ‫ ׁוְשו ֹבַ בְ ִּת‬wəšôḇaḇtîḵā) and lead you and bring you up from the far reaches of around (‫יך‬ the north.” The second clause, “and I will put hooks in your jaws” is taken directly from 29:4, where the king of Egypt is depicted as a river monster (‫ ּ ַת ּנִים‬tannîm, 29:3) that Yhwh will capture and destroy. However, as many have noticed, the image of catching an animal with hooks in 29:4 refers to capturing a wild beast, while in the scribal expansion in 38:4 the image is transformed into a scene of divine leading and coercion.23 The combination of these two phrases from 29:4 and 39:2 is strategic for the compositional design of the Gog oracles, which are presented in two parallel panels that follow a similar rhetorical arc. In the expanded MT version, the two panels have matching introductions (see Table 7.3). The parallel design between the twin introductions increases the symmetry between the two panels, which leads the reader to expect even more correspondences. This shows that the scribe who added the expansion in 38:4 was attuned to the structural dynamics of the Gog oracles and wanted to increase the cohesive pair with matching introductions. Also significant is the fact that this phrase, “I will put hooks in your jaws,” was adopted from an oracle about Pharaoh. This fits into a larger pattern of intertextual references

Table 7.3. Similarities between Ezekiel 38:1–​4 and 39:1–​3 Panel 1: The Defeat of Gog (ch. 38)

Panel 2: The Disposal of Gog (ch. 39)

Introduction (38:1–​4) “ . . . Son of Man, . . . prophesy against him, and say, “I am against you Gog, prince of the head of Meshech and Tubal [and I will turn you around, and I will put hooks in your jaws] and I will bring you out.

Introduction (39:1–​3) “and you, Son of Man, . . . prophesy against Gog and say, ‘I am against you Gog, prince of the head of Meshech and Tubal, and I will turn you around and I will lead you and bring you up from the far reaches of the north”

136   Timothy P. Mackie in the Gog oracles that depicts this enemy leader as a composite figure described with phrases taken from many of Ezekiel’s oracles against the nations.24 In this case, the expansion represents an analogy between Pharaoh depicted as a monster and Gog, and thus it aligns with other combinations of enemy and monster portraits from elsewhere in the Hebrew scriptures (for example, Isa 26:21–​27:1, or Ps 74).

4.  Expansions that Coordinate with Other Scriptural Texts So far, we have examined examples of scribal expansion that (1) clarify opaque elements in Ezekiel’s oracles or (2) coordinate various sections of the book into a more cohesive statement. In the first group the scribe’s work was limited to clarifying details in the immediate context, whereas in the second the scribe’s focus widened out to include related texts from all parts of the book. This third category of scribal expansions broadens the literary horizon of the scribes’ awareness even further, including other texts in the scriptural collection that was emerging alongside Ezekiel. These examples reveal a motivation to coordinate Ezekiel’s oracles with other texts that now exist within the Hebrew Bible. This phenomenon has been studied widely in other contexts.25 It shows how the compositional and textual development of the Ezekiel scroll was affected by its integration into a larger literary and theological context.

4.1  Ezekiel 8:10 “And I went and I saw—​and behold, every kind of [image of reptile and beast] detestable creature and all the idols of the house of Israel were inscribed upon the wall.”

During Ezekiel’s temple vision (chs. 8–​11), the prophet describes the idolatrous images he saw drawn all over the walls. The additional phrase in the MT version creates an awkward syntactical relationship between “every kind of image of reptile and beast” and “detestable creature,”26 and raises the question: why would a scribe introduce material that makes a sentence more complicated? A compelling motivation is close at hand, as the expansion is attuned to a fluctuation in Ezekiel’s vocabulary for idols. The term “detestable creature” (‫שקֶ ץ‬ ֶ ׁ šeqeṣ) occurs only here in the book—​and is semantically distinct from the more general term “detestable thing” (‫ ׁ ִש ּקוּץ‬šiqqûṣ). The latter word, which is common in Ezekiel’s diction,27 has a broader range of reference, including ritually impure foods (Zech 9:7), idols (Deut 29:16; 2 Kings 23:24), or even dirt (Nah 3:6). Zimmerli noted that the word “detestable creature” introduces a conceptual incongruity, as the word is not elsewhere used to refer to images of ritually impure animals, but rather to the animals themselves (see Lev 11:10–​13,

Text-Critical Issues in Ezekiel     137 Table 7.4. Similarities between Ezekiel 8:10 and Deuteronomy 4:16–​18. Ezekiel 8:10

Deuteronomy 4:16–​18

“And behold, every kind of [image of reptile and beast, ‫ש וּבְ הֵ מָ ה‬ ׂ ֶ‫ ּ ַתבְ נִית ֶרמ‬taḇnîṯ rem󠅛eś ûḇəhēmāh] detestable creature and all the idols of the house of Israel were inscribed upon the wall.

“Lest you act corruptly and make for yourselves any idol, an image of any statue. . . an image of any beast (‫ל־בהֵ מָ ה‬ ְּ ‫ ּ ַתבְ נִית ּ ָכ‬taḇnîṯ ḵol-bəhēmāh) on the land . . . an image of any reptile on the ground (‫ש ָּבאֲ ָדמָ ה‬ ׂ ֵ‫ ּ ַתבְ נִית ּ ָכל־ר ֹמ‬taḇnîṯ ḵol-rōmēś bāˀăḏāmāh)

20, 23, 41–​42).28 Nonetheless, the word ‫שקֶ ץ‬ ֶ ׁ clearly refers to idolatrous images here in Ezekiel 8:10. When the vocabulary of the MT expansion is examined, however, we find that it clarifies this ambiguity—​and consists of key words drawn from Deuteronomy 4:16–​ 18, a classic prohibition against worshipping idolatrous images. See Table 7.4 for a comparison. The scribal expansion in Ezekiel 8:10 is a condensed form of this statement in Deuteronomy 4:17–​18. The addition’s proximity to the word ‫שקֶ ץ‬ ֶ ׁ šeqeṣ “detestable creature” makes clear that its purpose is to clarify the semantic import of this word. It refers not to actual impure animals, but to their “image” (‫ ּ ַתבְ נִית‬taḇnîṯ).29 And regarding the motivation for connecting Ezekiel 8 with Deuteronomy 4 in the first place, notice that both texts share an extremely rare word for “idol statue” (‫ סֶ מֶ ל‬semel)—​found only in these two passages (Deut 4:16; Ezek 8:3, 5), apart from two appearances in 2 Chronicles that are themselves dependent upon Ezekiel 8.30

4.2  Ezekiel 7:19 “They will cast their silver into the streets,    and their gold will become an unclean thing; [their silver and their gold will not be able to deliver them in the day of Yhwh’s wrath]; their appetite will not be satisfied,    nor will their bellies be filled,     for their sin will become a stumbling block.

This long expansion in the MT has been explored in detail by Stromberg,31 who noted that the MT addition not only disturbs the tightly structured syntactic parallelism of the four lines, but also is drawn directly from Zephaniah 1:18: “Neither their silver nor their gold will be able to deliver them in the day of Yhwh’s wrath.” This line has long been identified as a scribal expansion,32 but its contextual function remained to be explored. Stromberg points out that the addition addresses a conceptual ambiguity in Ezekiel’s original announcement of doom: the people are depicted both as starving and as throwing away their wealth. “[This] may have appeared counterintuitive,” writes

138   Timothy P. Mackie Stromberg, “Why cast out wealth when the people would need it to feed themselves? The scribal comment explains that money would be useless to save on the day of Yhwh’s wrath.”33 Moreover, this oracle in Ezekiel 7 shares many other intertextual connections with the opening poem of Zephaniah (e.g., the day of Yhwh “is near,” Ezek 7:7 and Zeph 1:7, 14). As Greenberg notes, “Such evidence points to borrowing in our chapter from poetic and prophetic sources.... The treasury of language and imagery common to the poets and prophets was heavily drawn upon here.”34 Thus, the expansion in MT Ezek 7:19 sought to address a potential conceptual ambiguity, and it did so by borrowing language from the very texts whose words resonated elsewhere in the oracle.

4.3  Ezekiel 7:5–​14 The MT version of the oracle in 7:5–​14 contains a number of large expansions that are absent in the OG (see Table 7.5). The three sets of additions are related, as they all involve the imminent arrival of ‫ירה‬ ָ ִ‫“ הַ ְ ּצפ‬the (ṣəp̄îrāh).” These scribal additions introduce a new feature to the oracle. In the shorter OG edition it is Yhwh himself who brings judgment (OG 7:6, “I am Yhwh who strikes”), whereas the MT expansions identify the agent of Yhwh’s judgment, namely the tsefirah. Furthermore, the three additions in the MT version of verses 12–​14 are similar in form and content, forming a symmetrical poetic refrain: The central refrain (v. 13) states that “the vision,” that is, the oracle of Ezekiel 7, concerns “its” horde, while the outer refrains (vv. 12, 14) repeat that “its” horde will

Table 7.5. Related Scribal Expansions in Ezekiel 7 7:5–​7a

5Thus says the Lord Yhwh: [A

7:10

Look, the day! [Look, it is coming! The tsefirah has come out!] The rod has blossomed, insolence has budded!

7:12–​14

12The time has come! The day has approached!

single calamity, look, it is coming!] [An end is coming] The end is coming [It has risen against you! Look, it is coming!] 7 [The tsefirah is coming] against you, O inhabitants of the land. The time is coming, the day is near! 6

The buyer should not rejoice, nor should the seller weep! [For wrath is against all its horde] 13For the seller will not return to the thing sold, [and] ever. [while they are alive, their life] [For the vision is against all its horde, it will not reverse] 14Blow the trumpet, and prepare everything [though there is no one going] for war. [For my wrath is against all its horde]

Text-Critical Issues in Ezekiel     139 face divine wrath. The identity of “its horde” is not clear from verses 12–​14, as the third-​ person feminine suffixed pronoun “its” has no obvious referent in the immediate context. The only possible antecedent is the preceding feminine noun tsefirah, found only in the MT expansions in verses 7 and 10—​making it probable that we are dealing with an interconnected series of scribal additions. They all serve the same purpose: to introduce the agent of Yhwh’s judgment—​the tsefirah and its horde—​which will then become the object of divine wrath after having fulfilled their purpose. The crux interpretum of this textual puzzle is the meaning and identification of the tsefirah that is found only in these scribal expansions. The noun in this form occurs only here in ancient Hebrew, aside from one other possible occurrence of the word in Isaiah 28:5 (“for a beautiful crown,” ‫ירת ִּתפְ אָ ָרה‬ ַ ִ‫ לִ צְ פ‬liṣəp̄îraṯ tip̄ˀārāh), where it clearly refers to a “wreath” or “crown” of some sort that is parallel with “a glorious diadem” (‫ַלעֲטֶ ֶרת צְ בִ י‬ laˁăṭereṯ ṣəḇî).35 Targum Jonathan to Ezekiel relied upon the meaning “crown” from Isaiah 28:5 and interpreted the word in Ezek 7:7, 10 as “kingdom,”36 as have some modern commentators.37 Rashi explained the tsefirah by appeal to an Aramaic word with the same consonants, “morning” (tsafra), and understood it as a reference to the time of the coming calamity.38 Modern philological studies of the word have appealed to the cognate Arabic verb tsafara “to braid/​interweave,”39 leading to the proposal of a Hebrew noun tsefirah with a figurative meaning “a turn of events” or “doom.”40 It is unclear, however, what such a word would mean in Ezekiel 7, where the tsefirah is an active personal subject whose coming is linked with an imminent calamity.41 None of these solutions can be regarded as satisfactory, for the simple fact is that the tsefirah is connected to the oracle’s editorial development, and thus any hypothesis about the word’s meaning must also elucidate that development. Bogaert42 and Lust43 have proposed (1) that tsefirah is a feminine form of the masculine noun “goat” (‫ צְ פִ יר‬ṣəp̄îr), (2) that the editorial expansions are intertextual allusions to the visions of Daniel 7–​11, particularly the vision of the ram and the he-​goat (‫ צְ פִ יר־הָ עִ ִּזים‬ṣəp̄îr-hāˁizzîm) in Dan 8:5, and (3) that they were added in Ezekiel to introduce a subtle allusion to the “insolent king” depicted in those visions.44 The “singular coming calamity” (7:5b)—​that is, the tsefirah—​refers to the “the insolent king . . . who will greatly destroy and prosper” (Dan 8:23–​24), and who is described as the “single horn” of the goat in Daniel’s dream (8:9).45 This example fits the pattern of our discussion so far, as these scribal expansions were motivated by pre-​existing intertextual connections between Daniel and Ezekiel. Fishbane has shown in detail how Ezekiel’s judgment oracles (especially c­ hapter 7), along with numerous other prophetic texts (like Numbers 24; Isaiah 10, 28, 53; Jeremiah 25; Habakkuk 2), were a direct source for much of the vocabulary and imagery found in the visions of Daniel 7–​12.46 The announcement of the “end” (‫ קֵ ץ‬qēṣ) and the “time” (‫ עֵ ת‬ˁēṯ) are prominent in Ezekiel 7 (vv. 2, 3, 6, 7, 12); within the Hebrew Bible, these terms occur together as a phrase (“the time of the end,” ‫ עֵ ת קֵ ץ‬ˁēt qēṣ) only in Daniel (8:17; 11:35, 40; 12:4, 9). The author of Daniel’s visions also drew upon Ezekiel’s imagery for the temple’s defilement, as seen in Daniel 11:31, where the forces of the king of the north “will defile the sanctuary of strength” (‫ הַ ִּמ ְקדָּ ׁש הַ ּ ָמעו ֹז‬hammiqdāš hammāˁôz), referring to the

140   Timothy P. Mackie Jerusalem temple. This terminology is drawn from Ezekiel’s description of the same temple, where it is called “the pride of the strong” (7:24, ‫ ְּגאו ֹן עַ ִּזים‬gəˀôn ˁazzîm) that “will be defiled” in the coming calamity (7:21–​22), or in 24:21 “I will defile my sanctuary, the pride of your strength (‫ ְּגאו ֹן עֻ ז ְּכֶ ם‬gəˀôn ˁuzzəḵem).” This shows how the oracle of Ezekiel 7 was an important resource in the composition of Daniel’s visions. I have proposed elsewhere that these pre-​existing associations between Daniel and Ezekiel 7 motivated the scribal expansions discussed above.47 These additions seek to coordinate the disaster announced in Ezekiel with the attack of the insolent king from Daniel 11; they show more clearly the role the king of the North will play in the unfolding divine plan. The scribes responsible for the additions about the tsefirah were clearly aware of the relationship between Daniel 8–​11 and Ezekiel 7, and they sought to identify the agent of judgment who would defile the temple as described in Ezekiel 7:21–​24. Further, the three refrain-​like expansions in 7:12–​14 describe the complex role that this king will play in the divine purpose. The repeated phrase “all its horde” (‫ּ ָכל־הֲ מוֹנ ָּה‬ ḵol-hamônāh) is derived from the description of the armed forces of the king of the North, namely, his “great horde” (‫ הָ מו ֹן ָרב‬hāmôn rāḇ, Dan 11:11–​12). Moreover, the first and last refrains (vv. 12, 14) tell us that Yhwh’s “wrath” (‫ חָ רו ֹן‬ḥārōn) will be turned “against all its horde.” The tsefirah and “its horde” may be agents of divine judgment against Israel for a time; but Yhwh’s wrath will be turned against them in the end. This is consistent with the depiction in Daniel’s visions of the insolent king—​who, after executing his role in the divine plan, is filled with arrogance (Dan 7:20–​21; 8:25; 11:36–​39) and is consequently destroyed (Dan 7:26; 8:25; 11:45). Thus, the expansions explore the complex role that Daniel’s “insolent king” will play in the divine plan as both agent and recipient of God’s wrath. The expansions in the MT of Ezekiel 7 are wide in scope, as they occur across a broad expanse of the oracle (vv. 1–​14), and they demonstrate a subtle exegetical awareness of the language and details of the scriptural texts involved. Moreover, they attempt to coordinate already-​related scriptural texts by further nuancing that relationship. This reveals the scribe’s presupposition that these texts are meant to be integrated and read as a unified expression of the divine plan for Israel and the nations. A

v. 12 . . .For wrath (‫ חָ רו ֹן‬ḥārōn) is against all its horde (‫ ּ ָכל־הֲ מוֹנ ָּה‬ḵol-hămōnāh)

B

v. 13 . . .For the vision (‫ חָ זו ֹן‬ḥāzōn) is about all its horde (‫ ּ ָכל־הֲמוֹנ ָּה‬ḵol-hămōnāh); it will not reverse.

A′ v. 14 . . .For my wrath (‫ חֲ רוֹנִי‬ḥărōni) is against all its horde (‫ ּ ָכל־הֲ מוֹנ ָּה‬ḵol-hămōnāh).

5.  The Developing Text of Ezekiel The textual variants that we have examined above can be explained from the perspective of text-​criticism. They are examples of scribal interventions that were performed late

Text-Critical Issues in Ezekiel     141 enough in the book’s development to be detected among extant manuscripts. However, the issues that they raise are clearly redaction-​and composition-​critical in nature.48 That is, text-​critical studies in Ezekiel reveal to us the final stages of the book’s literary development (by scribal expansion) and composition (by arrangement of literary units). These textual variants show us firsthand the techniques, reading habits, motivations, and assumptions held by the scribes who shaped and transmitted the scriptural scrolls in the period of the Second Temple.49 From the origins of Ezekiel’s composition in the hands of the prophet himself and on into the following centuries, the text of this book was apparently never static.50 Each oracle and poem of the book was adapted as it was integrated into the expanding context of the Ezekiel scroll itself, and eventually into the scriptural collection that became the Hebrew Bible. As it turns out, text-​critical issues in Ezekiel are no different in kind than the compositional issues that must be addressed by anyone attempting to explain how this remarkable scroll came into existence.

Notes 1. For surveys with bibliography, see Johann Lust, “The Ezekiel Text,” in Sôpher Mahîr: Essays in Honour of Adrian Schenker (VTSup 110; Leiden: Brill, 2006), 153–​168; William A. Tooman, “Textual History of Ezekiel,” and Armin Lange, “Ancient Hebrew Texts of Ezekiel,” both in Textual History of the Bible: Volume 1B, Pentateuch, Former and Latter Prophets, ed. Armin Lange and Emmanuel Tov (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 559–​570 and 570–​572, respectively. 2. Moshe H. Goshen-​Gottstein, et al., The Hebrew University Bible: Ezekiel (Jerusalem: Magnes, 2004). 3. Joseph Ziegler, Ezechiel, 2nd ed. (Septuaginta Vetus Testamentum Graecum 16.1; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1977). The secondary translations, such as the Peshitta or Old Latin versions of Ezekiel, essentially bear witness to the proto-​MT text (see Arie van der Kooij, “Peshitta,” and J. Trebolle Barrera, “Vetus Latina,” both in Lange and Tov, Textual History, 630–​636 and 660–​664, respectively. 4. Galen Marquis, “Word Order as a Criterion for the Evaluation of Translation Technique in the LXX and the Evaluation of Word-​Order Variants as Exemplified in LXX-​Ezekiel,” Textus 13 (1986): 59–​84; and Galen Marquis, “Consistency of Lexical Equivalents as a Criterion for the Evaluation of Translations Technique in the LXX of Ezekiel,” in VI Congress of the International Organization for Septuagint and Cognate Studies (SCS 23; Atlanta: Scholars, 1987), 405–​424. 5. See the summaries of Tooman, “Textual History,” 559, and Marquis, “Word Order,” 59–​84. 6. Ingrid E. Lilly, Two Books of Ezekiel: Papyrus 967 and the Masoretic Text as Variant Literary Editions (VTSup 150; Leiden: Brill, 2017). 7. Daniel I. Block, “Text and Emotion: A Study in the ‘Corruptions’ in Ezekiel’s Inaugural Vision (Ezekiel 1:4–​28),” CBQ 50, no. 3 (1988): 418–​442; Daniel I. Block, The Book of Ezekiel: Chapters 1–​24 (NICOT; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997); Daniel I. Block, The Book of Ezekiel: Chapters 25–​48 (NICOT; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998); Hector W. Patmore, “The Shorter and Longer Texts of Ezekiel: The Implications of the Manuscript Finds from Masada and Qumran,” JSOT 32 (2007): 231–​242. 8. Tooman, “Textual History,” 559–​569.

142   Timothy P. Mackie 9. For surveys, see Emmanuel Tov, “The Nature of the Large-​Scale Differences between the LX and MT S T V, Compared with Similar Evidence in Other Sources,” in The Earliest Text of the Hebrew Bible: The Relationship of the MT and the Hebrew Base of the Septuagint, ed. Adrian Schenker (SCS 52; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 2003), 121–​144; and Emmanuel Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 3rd ed. (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2011), 283–​325. 10. The dynamics that generated these diverse forms of the biblical text in the Second Temple period have been thoroughly explored by David A. Teeter, Scribal Laws: Exegetical Variation in the Textual Transmission of Biblical Law in the Late Second Temple Period (FAT 92; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014). 11. This approach characterized the text-​critical work of Adalbert Merx, “Der Wert der Septuaginta für die Textkritik des Alten Testaments am Ezechiel aufgezeigt,” Jahrbücher für protestantische Theologie 9 (1883): 65–​77; Carl H. Cornill, Das Buch des Propheten Ezechiel (Leipzig: J.C. Heinrich, 1886); Gustav Jahn, Das Buch Ezechiel auf Grund der Septuaginta hergestellt (Leipzig: E. Pfeiffer, 1905); and George A. Cooke, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Book of Ezekiel (ICC; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1936). 12. Moshe Greenberg, “The Use of the Ancient Versions for Interpreting the Hebrew Text: A Sampling from Ezekiel 2:1–​3:11,” in Congress Volume, Göttingen 1977, ed. John A. Emerton (VTSup 29; Leiden: Brill, 1977), 131–​148. 13. Walther Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 1–​24, trans. Ronald E. Clements (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979); Walther Zimmerli, “Das Phänomen der ‘Fortschreibung’ im Buch Ezechiel,” in Prophecy: Essays Presented to Georg Fohrer on his Sixty–Fifth Birthday (BZAW 151; Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1980), 174–​191; Walther Zimmerli, Ezekiel 2: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 25–​48, trans. James D. Martin (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983). 14. See Johann Lust, “Notes to the Septuagint: Ezekiel 7,” ETL 77 (2001): 384–​394; Lust, “The Ezekiel Text”; Emmanuel Tov, “Recensional Differences Between the Masoretic Text and the Septuagint of Ezekiel,” ETL 62 (1986): 89–​101; Emmanuel Tov, “Some Sequence Differences between the Masoretic Text and the Septuagint and their Ramifications for Literary Criticism,” in The Greek and Hebrew Bible: Collected Essays on the Septuagint, ed. Emmanuel Tov (VTSup 72; Leiden: Brill, 1999), 411–​419; and Emmanuel Tov, “Large-​Scale Differences.” 15. Ashley S. Crane, Israel’s Restoration: A Textual-​Comparative Exploration of Ezekiel 36–​39 (VTSup 122; Leiden: Brill, 2008); Christoph Rösel, JHWHs Sieg über Gog aus Magog: Ez 38–​ 39 im Masoretischen Text und in der Septuaginta (WMANT 132; Göttingen: Neukirchener Verlag, 2012); and Lilly, Two Books. 16. John W. Olley, Ezekiel: A Commentary Based on Iezekiel in Codex Vaticanus (Septuagint Commentary Series; Leiden: Brill, 2009). 17. Timothy P. Mackie, “Of Editions and Expansions: The Hermeneutics of Scribal Expansion in the Masoretic and Septuagint Texts of Ezekiel 7,” in Transforming Visions: Transformations of Text, Tradition and Theology in Ezekiel (Princeton Theological Monograph Series; Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2010), 249–​278; Timothy P. Mackie, Expanding Ezekiel: The Hermeneutics of Scribal Addition in the Ancient Text Witnesses of the Book of Ezekiel (FRLANT 257; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015). 18. On the larger issues, see Teeter, Scribal Laws, 1–​33, 254–​271. 19. All translation provided in this chapter are my own. 20. So Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 139; Leslie C. Allen, Ezekiel 1–​19 (WBC; Dallas: Word Books, 1994), 43.

Text-Critical Issues in Ezekiel     143 21. David J. Halperin, “The Exegetical Character of Ezekiel X 9–​17,” VT 26 (1976): 129–​141. 22. See Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1 and Ezekiel 2. 23. Zimmerli, Ezekiel 2, 284; William A. Tooman, Gog of Magog: Reuse of Scripture and Compositional Technique in Ezekiel 38–​39 (FAT 252; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 151–​152. 24. See the list in Tooman, Gog of Magog, 224–​240. 25. Teeter, Scribal Laws; Tooman, Gog of Magog; Michael A. Lyons, From Law to Prophecy: Ezekiel’s Use of the Holiness Code (LHBOTS 507; New York: T&T Clark, 2009). 26. The MT expansion creates an appositional relationship between “image of reptile and beast” and “detestable thing”—​which is technically possible, but stylistically difficult in the extreme. This was discussed in detail by Cooke (1936: 102). 27. The noun shiqquts “detestable creature” occurs eight times in Ezekiel: 5:11; 7:20; 11:18, 21; 20:7, 8, 30; 37:23. 28. Zimmerli, Ezekiel 2, 219. See also Jacob Milgrom, Leviticus 1–​16 (AB; New York: Doubleday, 1991), 656. 29. Noted also by Moshe Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20 (AB; New York: Doubleday, 1983), 169. 30. In 2 Chron 33:7, the statue placed by Manasseh in the temple is described as a ‫ סֶ מֶ ל‬semel, whereas in the parallel passage in 2 Kings 21:7 it is called an ‫ש ָרה‬ ֵ ׁ ֲ‫ א‬ˀăšērāh. H. G. M. Williamson thinks that the Chronicler’s Vorlage differed from Kings on this point; 1 and 2 Chronicles (NCB; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1982), 391. In contrast, Sara Japhet more cogently argues that the Chronicler changed the word to semel under the influence of Ezek 8:3–​5; I & II Chronicles (OTL; Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995), 1007. Either way, 2 Chronicles 33 is not an independent witness to the word in Biblical Hebrew, leaving only Deut 4:16 and Ezekiel 8 as primary evidence. 31. J. Stromberg, “Observations on Inner-​Scriptural Scribal Expansion in MT Ezekiel,” VT 58 (2008): 14–​15. 32. Cornill, Ezechiel, 217; Cooke, Ezekiel, 82; Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 199; Allen, Ezekiel 1–​19, 102. 33. Stromberg, “Inner-​Scriptural Scribal Expansion,” 15. 34. Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20, 159. 35. On the word’s meaning in this context, see Hans Wildberger, Isaiah 28–​39 (CC; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2002), 5–​6. 36. Targum Jonathan reads: “the kingdom is revealed” (‫ ִאתגְ לִ יאַ ת מַ לכוּתָ א‬ˀiṯgəlîˀaṯ malkûṯāˀ) for both occurrences of the word in Ezekiel 7. 37. Richard Kraetzschmar, Das Buch Ezekiel (HKAT; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1900), 74–​75; Alfred Bertholet, Das Buch Hesekiel erklärt (KHAT; Freiburg: J.C.B. Mohr, 1897), 39–​40. 38. Rashi: “it has come, and morning star has gone down . . . ” The Authorized Version of 1611 follows this interpretive tradition in its translation: “the morning is come unto thee.” This is likely due to the influence of medieval Jewish exegesis on the translators of the AV; see Erwin I. J. Rosenthal, “Rashi and the English Bible,” BJRL 24 (1940): 138–​167. 39. Rudolf Smend, Der Prophet Ezechiel (KeH; Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1880), 42. 40. So Cornill, Ezechiel, 214–​215; Cooke, Ezekiel, 77–​78, 85. 41. Michel Masson offers a variation of this philological argument, positing a different meaning from the Arabic root. He argues that it could refer to a woven object such as a “lasso,” which then symbolizes the Judean deportation; “Sepirâ (Ezéchiel VII 10),” VT 37 (1987): 301–​311. He is followed in this interpretation by Daniel I. Block, The Book of Ezekiel: Chapters 1–​24 (NICOT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997), 251–​252.

144   Timothy P. Mackie 42. Pierre-​Maurice Bogaert, “Les deux rédactions conserves (LXX et TM) d’Ézéchiel 7,” in Ezekiel and His Book: Textual and Literary Criticism and Their Interrelation, ed. Johann Lust (BETL 74; Leuven: Peeters, 1986), 21–​47. 43. Lust, “Notes to the Septuagint.” 44. Bogaert, “Les deux rédactions conserves,” 41–​47. 45. This kind of subtle intertextual wordplay (‫ צְ פִ יר‬ṣəp̄îr /​ ‫ירה‬ ָ ִ‫ צְ פ‬ṣəp̄îrāh) is a characteristic mode of Jewish exegesis and textual composition in the Second Temple period. See Jonathan G. Kline, Allusive Soundplay in the Hebrew Bible (AIL 28; Atlanta: SBL Press, 2016), for many more examples. 46. Michael Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel (Oxford: Clarendon, 1985), 482–​495. 47. Mackie, “Of Editions and Expansions.” 48. George J. Brooke, “The Demise of the Distinction between Higher and Lower Criticism,” in New Directions in Qumran Studies: Proceedings of the Bristol Colloquium on the Dead Sea Scrolls, 8–​10 September 2003 (LSTS 52; London: T&T Clark, 2005), 26–​42. 49. On this topic, see Teeter, Scribal Laws. 50. See Mackie, Expanding Ezekiel, and Tooman, “Textual History.”

Bibliography Allen, Leslie C. Ezekiel 1–​19. Word Biblical Commenary. Dallas: Word Books, 1994. Bertholet, Alfred. Das Buch Hesekiel erklärt. KHAT. Freiburg: J.C.B. Mohr, 1897. Block, Daniel I. The Book of Ezekiel: Chapters 1–​24. NICOT. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997. Block, Daniel I. The Book of Ezekiel: Chapters 25–​48. The New International Commentary on the Old Testament. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998. Block, Daniel I. “Text and Emotion: A Study in the ‘Corruptions’ in Ezekiel’s Inaugural Vision (Ezekiel 1:4–​28).” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 50, no. 3 (1988): 418–​442. Bogaert, Pierre-​Maurice. “Les deux rédactions conserves (LXX et TM) d’Ézéchiel 7.” In Ezekiel and His Book: Textual and Literary Criticism and Their Interrelation, edited by Johann Lust, 21–​47. Bibliotheca Ephemeridum theologicarum Lovaniensium 74. Leuven: Peeters, 1986. Brooke, George J. “The Demise of the Distinction between Higher and Lower Criticism.” In New Directions in Qumran Studies: Proceedings of the Bristol Colloquium on the Dead Sea Scrolls, 8–​10 September 2003, edited by Jonathan G. Campbell, 26–​42. The Library of Second Temple Studies 52. London: T&T Clark, 2005. Cooke, George A. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Book of Ezekiel. International Critical Commentary. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1936. Cornill, Carl H. Das Buch des Propheten Ezechiel. Leipzig: J.C. Heinrich, 1886. Crane, Ashley S. Israel’s Restoration: A Textual-​Comparative Exploration of Ezekiel 36–​39. Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 122. Leiden: Brill, 2008. Fishbane, Michael. Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel. Oxford: Clarendon, 1985. Goshen-​ Gottstein, Moshe H., et al. The Hebrew University Bible: Ezekiel. Jerusalem: Magnes, 2004. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 1–​20. Anchor Bible. New York: Doubleday, 1983. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 21–​37. Anchor Bible. New York: Doubleday, 1997. Greenberg, Moshe. “The Use of the Ancient Versions for Interpreting the Hebrew Text: A Sampling from Ezekiel 2:1–​3:11.” In Congress Volume, Göttingen 1977, edited by John A. Emerton, 131–​148. Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 29. Leiden: Brill, 1977.

Text-Critical Issues in Ezekiel     145 Halperin, David J. “The Exegetical Character of Ezekiel X 9–​17.” Vetus Testamentun 26 (1976): 129–​141. Jahn, Gustav. Das Buch Ezechiel auf Grund der Septuaginta hergestellt. Leipzig: E. Pfeiffer, 1905. Japhet, Sara. I & II Chronicles. Old Testament Library. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1995. Kline, Jonathan G. Allusive Soundplay in the Hebrew Bible. Ancient Israel and Its Literature 28. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2016. Kraetzschmar, Richard. Das Buch Ezekiel. Handkommentar zum Alten Testament. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1900. Lange, Armin. “Ancient Hebrew Texts of Ezekiel.” In Lange and Tov, Textual History, 570–​572. Lange, Armin, and Emmanuel Tov, eds. Textual History of the Bible: Volume 1B, Pentateuch, Former and Latter Prophets. Leiden: Brill, 2017. Lilly, Ingrid E. Two Books of Ezekiel: Papyrus 967 and the Masoretic Text as Variant Literary Editions. Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 150. Leiden: Brill, 2012. Lust, Johann. “The Ezekiel Text.” In Sôpher Mahîr: Essays in Honour of Adrian Schenker, edited by Yohanan A. P. Goldman, Arie van der Kooij, and Richard D. Weis, 153–​168. Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 110. Leiden: Brill, 2006. Lust, Johann. “Notes to the Septuagint: Ezekiel 7.” Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses 77 (2001): 384–​394. Lyons, Michael A. From Law to Prophecy: Ezekiel’s Use of the Holiness Code. Library of the Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 507. New York: T&T Clark, 2009. Mackie, Timothy P. “Of Editions and Expansions: The Hermeneutics of Scribal Expansion in the Masoretic and Septuagint Texts of Ezekiel 7.” In Transforming Visions: Transformations of Text, Tradition and Theology in Ezekiel, edited by Michael A. Lyons and William A. Tooman, 249–​278. Princeton Theological Monograph Series. Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2010. Mackie, Timothy P. Expanding Ezekiel: The Hermeneutics of Scribal Addition in the Ancient Text Witnesses of the Book of Ezekiel. Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments 257. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015. Marquis, Galen. “Consistency of Lexical Equivalents as a Criterion for the Evaluation of Translation Technique in the LXX of Ezekiel.” In VI Congress of the International Organization for Septuagint and Cognate Studies, edited by Claude E. Cox, 405–​424. Septuagint and Cognate Studies 23. Atlanta: Scholars, 1987. Marquis, Galen. “Word Order as a Criterion for the Evaluation of Translation Technique in the LXX and the Evaluation of Word-​Order Variants as Exemplified in LXX-​Ezekiel.” Textus 13 (1986): 59–​84. Masson, Michel. “Sepirâ (Ezéchiel VII 10).” Vetus Testamentum 37 (1987): 301–​311. Merx, Adalbert. “Der Wert der Septuaginta für die Textkritik des Alten Testaments am Ezechiel aufgezeigt.” Jahrbücher für protestantische Theologie 9 (1883): 65–​77. Milgrom, Jacob. Leviticus 1–​16. Anchor Bible. New York: Doubleday, 1991. Olley, John W. Ezekiel: A Commentary Based on Iezekiel in Codex Vaticanus. Septuagint Commentary Series. Leiden: Brill, 2009. Patmore, Hector W. “The Shorter and Longer Texts of Ezekiel: The Implications of the Manuscript Finds from Masada and Qumran.” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 32 (2007): 231–​242. Rösel, Christoph. JHWHs Sieg über Gog aus Magog: Ez 38–​39 im Masoretischen Text und in der Septuaginta. Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament 132. Göttingen: Neukirchener Verlag, 2012. Rosenthal, Erwin I. J. “Rashi and the English Bible.” Bulletin of the John Rylands Library of Manchester 24 (1940): 138–​167.

146   Timothy P. Mackie Smend, Rudolf. Der Prophet Ezechiel. KeH. Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1880. Stromberg, Jake. “Observations on Inner-​Scriptural Scribal Expansion in MT Ezekiel.” Vetus Testamentum 58 (2008):1–​19. Teeter, David A. Scribal Laws: Exegetical Variation in the Textual Transmission of Biblical Law in the Late Second Temple Period. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 92. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014. Tooman, William A. Gog of Magog: Reuse of Scripture and Compositional Technique in Ezekiel 38–​39. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 252. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011. Tooman, William A. “Textual History of Ezekiel.” In Textual History of the Bible: Volume 1B, Pentateuch, Former and Latter Prophets, edited by Armin Lange and Emmanuel Tov, 559–​ 570. Leiden: Brill, 2017. Tov, Emmanuel. “Glosses, Interpolations, and Other Types of Scribal Additions in the Text of the Hebrew Bible.” In Language, Theology, and the Bible—​Essays in Honour of James Barr, edited by Samuel E. Balentine and John Barton, 53–​74. Oxford: Clarendon, 1994. Tov, Emmanuel. “The Nature of the Large-​Scale Differences between the LXX and MT S T V, Compared with Similar Evidence in Other Sources.” In The Earliest Text of the Hebrew Bible: The Relationship of the MT and the Hebrew Base of the Septuagint, edited by Adrian Schenker, 121–​144. Septuagint and Cognate Studies 52. Atlanta: Scholars, 2003. Tov, Emmanuel. “Recensional Differences Between the Masoretic Text and the Septuagint of Ezekiel.” Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses 62 (1986): 89–​101. Tov, Emmanuel. “Some Sequence Differences between the Masoretic Text and the Septuagint and their Ramifications for Literary Criticism.” In The Greek and Hebrew Bible: Collected Essays on the Septuagint, edited by Emmanuel Tov, 411–​ 419. Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 72. Leiden: Brill, 1999. Tov, Emmanuel. Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible. 3rd ed. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2011. Trebolle Barrera, Julio. “Vetus Latina.” In Lange and Tov, Textual History, 660–​664. van der Kooij, Arie. “Peshitta.” In Lange and Tov, Textual History, 630–​636. Wildberger, Hans. Isaiah 28–​39. Continental Commentaries. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2002. Williamson, H. G. M. 1 and 2 Chronicles. NCB. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1982. Ziegler, Joseph. Ezechiel. 2nd ed. with addendum by Detlef Fraenkel. Septuaginta Vetus Testamentum Graecum 16.1. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1977. Zimmerli, Walther. “Das Phänomen der ‘Fortschreibung’ im Buch Ezechiel.” In Prophecy: Essays Presented to Georg Fohrer on his Sixty-​Fifth Birthday, edited by John A. Emerton, 174–​ 191. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenshaft 151. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1980. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezekiel 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 1–​24. Translated by Ronald E. Clements. Hermeneia. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezekiel 2: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 25–​48. Translated by James D. Martin. Hermeneia. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983.

Chapter 8

Rhetorical Strat e g i e s i n t he B o ok of E z e k i e l Dale Launderville

The rhetorical goal of the book of Ezekiel is to persuade its readers that Yhwh is sovereign over both nature and history. The book tells its story about the destruction of Jerusalem in 587 bce. and the subsequent restoration of the house of Israel to its homeland. Prophetic storytelling is a form of narrativity that aims to take ambiguous facts of history and persuade its audience that the hand of God was active in these events.1 As indicated by its thirteen chronological formulas framing the book, the story aims to be a historical narrative that fills in the gaps with prophetic oracles, visions, sign-​acts, and discourses.2 Historical and fictional narratives stand on a continuum—​from more verifiable renderings of events to more interpretive renderings concerned with their inner significance.3 The book of Ezekiel brings together data from the earthly and heavenly spheres, to make sense out of the events around 587 bce by claiming that Yhwh was a primary historical actor as Israel’s covenant partner. From the time of Ezekiel’s call (1:1–​ 3:15) until the announcement of the beginning of the siege of Jerusalem (24:1), the book tries to convince its audience of the credibility (ethos) of this prophet of doom—​who announced not only that Jerusalem would soon fall but also that its residents and their ancestors had provoked this destruction by their idolatrous ways. The prophet changed his approach once the news of the fall of Jerusalem in 587 reached the ears of the exiles (33:17); then he became a prophet of hope. After sketching out the essential summary of this plot (mythos) in Ezekiel 20 and of Ezekiel’s call as a prophet in 1:1–​3:15, this chapter will examine how the book of Ezekiel remembers and retells (imitatio) its story of the dying and rising of the house of Israel (catharsis); and that it does so with the objective of persuading its audience of Babylonian exiles not only that Yhwh is the Cosmic Sovereign who is overseeing this tragic turn of events in Jerusalem’s history, but also that their disobedience to Yhwh has played a key role in shaping the course of events.4 As this chapter shall show, the main rhetorical maneuvers carried out in the book address the following three aspects: (1) how the aforementioned argument is made rationally (logos) and emotionally (pathos),

148   Dale Launderville (2) how the discernment (phronēsis) of the justice of Yhwh’s rule centers rhetorically on the theme of the hubris of rebellious humans, and (3) how the movement from death to life (catharsis) is expressed in the interplay between the priestly imagination and the ability of prophetic speech to summon the Spirit.5

1.  The Book’s Plot (Mythos) Ezekiel 20 (according to the Hebrew versification) gives a skeletal summary of the plot of the book in a retelling of Israel’s history as a sin-​history (vv. 1–​31) that transitions into a disputation (vv. 32–​38) and an oracle of salvation (vv. 39–​44). “Elders of Judah” from the exiles deported in 598 along with king Jehoiachin came to the prophet Ezekiel at his home requesting a consultation “in the seventh year, on the tenth day of the fifth month” of Jehoiachin’s exile (v. 1). The first year of Jehoiachin’s exile was December, 598 to March, 597 according to the Julian calendar.6 The date in Ezek 20:1 is interpreted as July/​August 591 bce in which the month and year of the Julian calendar are based on the calculations of Parker and Dubberstein according to Babylonian astronomically-​based calendrical data and the biblical and extra-​biblical data for the chronology of the kings of Israel and Judah as presented both by Freedy and Redford and by Hayes and Hooker.7 The elders seemed to respect Ezekiel’s authority as a prophet who could mediate Yhwh’s message to them. Yhwh’s denial of their request for a consultation was communicated via three formulae (the prophetic word, the messenger, and utterance of Yhwh formulae), which combined to emphasize that Yhwh fully endorsed Ezekiel’s prophetic authority on this occasion (vv. 2–​3). Yhwh then urged Ezekiel to engage the elders with a double rhetorical question, “Will you judge them? Will you judge them?” followed by the directive to “make known to them the abominations of their ancestors” (20:4). Ezekiel proceeded to deliver a summary of Israel’s sin history from pre-​exodus Egypt to exilic Babylon, with a concluding accusation that the elders were guilty of idolatry (vv. 5–​31).8 The narrative undergoes an abrupt shift from this historical judgment discourse into a disputation (vv. 32–​38) in which Yhwh emphatically states his intention to be king over the rebellious Israelites even though they intend to worship the idols of the nations. Faithful to the eternal covenant (16:60–​63) that he entered into with Israel, Yhwh intends to bring the exiles into the wilderness and sort them out, with the result that they will know Yhwh (20:34–​38). The sequel to this judgment scene in the wilderness is an oracle of salvation (vv. 39–​44) promising that the restored exiles will come to the mountain of God in Israel and worship there (v. 40). Such obedient worship will make the Israelites themselves into an acceptable sacrifice to Yhwh (v. 41). Yhwh’s fidelity to the covenant promise leads to an unmerited salvation for the exiles on account of which Yhwh predicts that they will repent with a deep-​seated sense of shame over their infidelity (v. 43). Yhwh concludes this oracle of salvation with the statement that God keeps the solemnly sworn promises because it is a matter of honor (v. 44; cf. vv. 9, 14, 22; 36:22–​23).

Rhetorical Strategies in the Book of Ezekiel    149 This narrative of Ezekiel 20 summarizes the response that the book as a whole makes to the traumatic events surrounding the destruction of Jerusalem and its temple—​ namely, the dying and rising of the house of Israel (cf. 37:11–​14). The prophet Ezekiel’s task is to change the exiles’ perception of their world by persuading them to look beyond appearances to a deeper conception of their situation, so that the world they live in might be one of hope rather than of despair.9 The transition from the historical judgment discourse to the disputation and oracle of salvation echoes the pattern of the Combat Myth: Israel’s idolatry aligned it with the other nations who were challenging Yhwh’s sovereignty; thus, Yhwh as the Divine Warrior battles and subdues the forces of chaos. The narrative pattern of this traditional ancient Near Eastern myth would have resonated with the experience of the exiles.10

2.  Credibility (Ethos) of Ezekiel as Visionary and Rhetor The book of Ezekiel frames its retelling of the interaction of Ezekiel with Yhwh and the Babylonian exiles with thirteen chronological formulas, beginning with his prophetic commissioning in 593 (i.e., a chronological structure of the book).11 The book presents the prophet Ezekiel as the visionary and rhetor responsible for the divine message communicated in the book (i.e., an autobiographical structure of the book).12 To validate Ezekiel’s prophetic credentials, the book not only prefaces and concludes his oracles with various formulae stating that Yhwh is the actual speaker but also portrays Ezekiel as a visionary who sees reality from a transcendent perspective.13 Ezekiel is lifted into the heavenly sphere, where he is given glimpses of a sequence of astonishing sights: (1) the ineffable Yhwh enthroned on his celestial chariot, moving into Babylonia (1:4–​28); (2) the ‫ ְּכבו ֹד־יהוה‬ḵəḇôḏ Yhwh—​usually rendered in terms of divine “glory”—​ departing from the defiled Jerusalem temple on his celestial chariot, away from the burning city (10:4, 18–​19; 11:22–​23); and (3) the ḵəḇôḏ Yhwh returning to the new temple on the mountain of God in Israel (43:1–​4). The book emphasizes that Ezekiel was lifted into the heavenly sphere by the formula of the “hand of God” falling upon him (1:3; 8:1; 40:1; cf. 37:1). At the conclusion of the vision, typically there is a notice that he has been brought back to the earthly realm (3:14–​15; 11:24–​25). On his return from his inaugural vision, Ezekiel sat “stunned” (‫ מַ ׁ ְש ִמים‬mašmîm, 3:15) among the exiles for seven days. This visionary seeing involves not only his mind but also his body. The way that his mind and body are strengthened is by the cosmic ַ‫ רוּח‬rûaḥ “spirit” that enters into Ezekiel at the conclusion of his inaugural vision (2:2). Ezekiel’s non-​verbal communication with the exiles (e.g., the pantomime of his sign-​acts) accents how essential his body is to his perception of reality.14 Interpreters of his work may well be inclined to draw circles in the air to describe the motion of the wheels of Yhwh’s cosmic chariot in Ezekiel 1, or to grimace sternly in imitation of Ezekiel as he presses the siege against Jerusalem in his

150   Dale Launderville sign-​act in 4:1–​3. His visualizing rhetoric invites interpreters to act out scenes in which the transcendent Yhwh breaks into finite human contexts that are unable to accommodate his divine reality.

3.  The Book’s Argument (Logos) The divine abandonment of the temple signaled in Ezekiel’s Inaugural Vision (1:4–​28) and carried out in his First Temple Vision (chs. 8–​11) offers a rationale for the traumatic events that beset Jerusalem in 587. The return of the ḵəḇôḏ Yhwh (43:1–​9) in his New Temple Vision (chs. 40–​48) expresses a hope for the full restoration of the house of Israel to the land that is yet to be realized. The book depicts the dying and rising of the house of Israel by means of divine accompaniment. The movement of the celestial chariot into Babylonia in 1:4–​28 is echoed in 11:16, in which Yhwh is present with the exiles as a “little sanctuary.” In the depths of the despair of the exiles expressed in the Dry Bones Vision, the rûaḥ Yhwh suffuses them and brings them new life. This message of hope is quietly present in the background of the gloom and doom of c­ hapters 1–​24. The cosmic rûaḥ that is strengthening Ezekiel in 2:1 emerges in the Dry Bones Vision as the breath that revivifies the exiles (37:5–​6, 9–​10)—​and is further identified as Yhwh’s Spirit (37:14).15 The book argues that divine presence has not been absent from the exiles but has made possible their rising to new life. The book of Ezekiel is realistic about the challenge facing the prophet to persuade the exilic audience of the truth of this diagnosis of Jerusalem’s history and of the credibility of the promised restoration. Counterpoint or protest to Ezekiel’s heavenly vision of Jerusalem’s fate is carefully brought to expression in order to honor the place of the human assessment of the disaster of 587, while nevertheless subordinating it to the divine perspective. In Ezekiel’s commissioning, which takes place in the visionary sphere, he is warned that the Israelites are “rebellious” and that he will be resisted (2:3–​ 7). Therefore, he is exhorted to deliver the divine message given him and not to judge his efforts on whether the people accept it or not (2:5; 3:27). Ezekiel is even warned to guard against his own potential resistance to this divine message (2:8). The reason for such resistance is not only the Israelites’ “rebelliousness” but also the harshness of the message. A summary statement of the message Ezekiel is to deliver prior to the Fall of Jerusalem is written on the outside of the scroll he is asked to consume: “lamentation, wailing, woe” (2:10). After Jerusalem has fallen, he is directed to tell the depressed exiles that Yhwh is going to open their graves and restore them to the land (37:11–​14). These messages of “painful” punishment and “incredible” restoration are not easy to receive or to deliver. One way of initially picturing the rhetorical arrangement of the oracles, reports, and discourses in the book of Ezekiel is to imagine the book as an exhibit in an art gallery. The exhibit has an overall theme or organizing principle; the individual artworks themselves are not altered, yet the lighting of the room, the placement of the work, or other environmental factors influence the way each artwork is perceived.16 Similarly in the

Rhetorical Strategies in the Book of Ezekiel    151 biblical book in question, passages of various genres are assembled and contextualized within the overall narrative. The interpretation of these genres is not free-​floating: they have been selected and sequenced and located within the narrative plot from a privileged perspective. For example, three sign-​acts are reported in 3:22–​5:4 to be enacted non-​verbally to spark the imaginations of his audience about what he is trying to communicate. His audience has been characterized in 3:5–​6 as less able to comprehend his speech than foreigners speaking only their own languages.17 The last of these three sign-​acts (5:1–​4) has three stages of judgment that are picked up in the following judgment speech (5:4–​17) as three kinds of punishment: disease, famine, and the sword. This tripling technique continues in ­chapter 7, where three prophetic proof-​sayings build upon one another, to communicate the intensification of the divine wrath against the land, as reported in ­chapters 4–​7.18 The narrative counterpointing in the book aims to promote a search in each passage for truths that have not yet come to light. Narrativity fosters phronēsis—​namely, a search for wisdom in the way that general principles are manifested in particular contexts. A variety of disparate materials—​for example, disputations over delayed or unfulfilled prophecies (12:21–​28), prophetic proof sayings dealing with Ezekiel’s competition from male and female prophets (13:1–​23), and prophetic proof sayings in response to requests from duplicitous elders (14:1–​11)—​are juxtaposed and allowed to play off one another. Ultimately, however, they work together to enhance the picture of the divinely-​sent prophet Ezekiel that is developed in ­chapters 1–​12. These competing voices reflect the historical reality of the prophet’s ministry, as was typical for most Hebrew prophets.19 Within the metaphorical narrative of c­hapter 17, the comparison of competing viewpoints on theopolitics is carried out on multiple levels in a riddling fashion: the vines and eagles in the fable are personified and given intentionality; the behavior of two eagles and two plants are compared along with two modes of punishment (king of Babylon and east wind) and two planes of agency (human and divine).20 These thought-​ provoking dualities wrestle with questions about God and politics: are solemnly pronounced oaths irrevocable in the eyes of Yhwh? Or is the insistence that contingencies cannot shift the irrevocable character of the oaths more an ideological bias than a theological reality? When the vines, eagles, and cedar are identified with historical rulers, the comparison becomes an allegory, yet it still retains a measure of ambiguity. As a riddling allegory, it gives rise to thought. The movement in c­ hapter 17 as a whole has been interpreted as a spiraling intensification: (a) a fable on the earthly plane (vv. 1–​10), followed by (b) an interpretation from a human perspective (vv. 11–​18); then (b′) an interpretation from a divine perspective (vv. 19–​21), followed by (a′) a fable on the heavenly plane (vv. 22–​24). Meanwhile, the chapter’s strong forward movement is countered by this chiastic structure (a-​b-​b′-​a′).21 Is the formation of the riddling allegory one that took place in stages through editorial additions? Or is it a composition framed by the prophet? Regardless, the final form of the text contains additions that re-​frame and give a different look to an original discourse. An instance of what most critics regard as a later redactional addition is the messianic hope symbolized by the cedar sprig in 17:22–​24. This passage shows how the Davidic

152   Dale Launderville monarchy and the Davidic covenant became a hopeful symbol in the discourse of the Ezekielian tradents—​even though the Davidic dynasty would soon be envisioned as ending with the burning of the vine in 19:12–​14, and the Davidic monarch would be demoted to an auxiliary civil role within the theocracy envisioned in c­ hapters 40–​ 48. The hope associated with the promise of Yhwh’s working through a Davidic king (34:23–​24; 37:24) is not abandoned in the final form of the book but is counterpointed by the primary picture of Yhwh ruling from his temple in the midst of Israel (43:4, 7). The book’s rhetorical tactic of juxtaposing competing viewpoints is more pronounced in those neighboring passages whose content contradict one another. For example, according to 18:20, there is no intergenerational transfer of guilt: “A child shall not bear the guilt of the parent, nor shall a parent bear the guilt of the child.” Yet in the sin history related in Ezekiel 20, Yhwh said to the rebellious second generation at the time of the exodus, “I swore to them in the wilderness that I would disperse them among the nations and scatter them in other lands” (20:23). In other words, the Babylonian exile was in store for the Israelites even before they entered the promised land; the guilt of their ancestors was a factor in the expulsion of the Israelites from the land in the early sixth century bce. The arguments for no intergenerational transfer of guilt in ­chapter 18 and for such a transfer in ­chapter 20 are both cogent in their separate contexts. When juxtaposed, they reveal that the resulting antinomy is part of human experience: individual and collective responsibility each play a role within the just order of a human community. The book of Ezekiel fosters ongoing reflection on this paradox, as it insists upon the essential role of human agency in shaping the course of events. Another striking contradiction is the book’s portrayal of Ezekiel as a muted prophet. He is charged with delivering oracles, narratives, and discourses and entering into disputations throughout ­chapters 1–​24. Moreover, he is to be a sentinel for the Israelites (3:17–​21; 33:1–​9). Yhwh thus calls Ezekiel to be a responsible, courageous prophet—​ and then possesses him so that his freedom to respond seems compromised (e.g., 3:14, 24; 11:5)! In depicting this unprecedented muting of a prophet, is the book of Ezekiel trying to emphasize that he is delivering the word of Yhwh without watering it down or inserting his own emphases? (Such an objective may be put into play also by having the prophet consume the scroll at the time of his commissioning, 2:8–​3:4.) Or is the motif of the prophet’s divine possession used to excuse Ezekiel for his vulgar language about other deities (e.g., “shit-​gods,” “dung-​balls,” 6:5–​6, 9, 13, etc.) and about wife Jerusalem (16:17, 25–​26; 23:3, 8, 10, 17, 20, 21)? Regardless, the pantomime of many of Ezekiel’s sign-​ acts (4:1–​5:1–​4; 12:1–​15) contrasts markedly with the street-​fighter language that he uses in his harangues on idolatry as adultery (16:23–​34; 23:7–​20).22 His refraining from mourning at the time of his wife’s death (24:16–​18), and his prediction to wife Jerusalem that she will close her mouth when she feels shame at her past idolatrous behavior (16:63), are instances of Ezekiel’s instructing his audience that restraint in speech is required of both a discerning sentinel and those who would follow his example. A competing viewpoint that does not contradict the book’s dominant viewpoint outright but does significantly nuance the narrative can be seen in 21:8–​10 (E; 21: 21:13–​15 H), in the description of the violent punishment inflicted on Jerusalem by the sword.

Rhetorical Strategies in the Book of Ezekiel    153 This sword was divinely prepared and commissioned for slaughtering the people of Judah and Jerusalem (vv. 13–​22). But in the final oracle of the chapter (vv. 33–​37), Ezekiel predicted that the sword of the Babylonians had overstepped its bounds and so would in turn be judged. The book’s dominant viewpoint on the excessive destruction in Jerusalem is that Yhwh had decreed it (9:1–​2, 5–​7; 21:8–​10). But here in 21:33–​37, the charge is indirectly leveled against the Babylonians that as human instruments of Yhwh, they had inflicted a measure of this violence on their own initiative—​and for this they would be punished.

4.  The Emotional Dimension (Pathos) If the exiles were to believe that Yhwh is sovereign over history, they had to engage in a strong measure of denial of the facts on the ground. The Babylonian king Nebuchadrezzar II had deported Jehoiachin and a large segment of the ruling class from Jerusalem and Judah and was holding them as hostages in Babylonia. To argue that Yhwh had brought the Babylonian conquerors to burn the Temple and the city of Jerusalem seemed to deny the reality in front of their faces: Nebuchadrezzar was simply militarily stronger. This tactic of aligning Yhwh with Nebuchadrezzar’s overthrow of Jerusalem may have found some justification in the territorial understanding of a god’s rule in the ancient Near East.23 If a king conquered another city, the standard explanation that the god of that city was angry with the city’s inhabitants and called in a foreign king to punish them is attested at numerous points in the Hebrew Bible (e.g., Amos 3:11; 6:14; Isa 10:5–​6) and in ancient Near Eastern literature (e.g., Code of Hammurapi iv:20–​30). Nonetheless, the extreme destruction of Jerusalem predicted by Ezekiel necessitated that he find strong grounds for Yhwh’s decision to punish Jerusalem and Judah to that extent. Ezekiel had to employ rhetoric that appealed to the exiles’ emotions in order to persuade them. The sin that this book singles out as the greatest abomination of all is idolatry (8:6, 9, 13, 15, 17). The traditional understanding of the covenant relationship as a marriage—​in which the wife was charged with being exclusively faithful to her husband—​means that the unfaithful wife became the target for emphasizing the heinous character of idolatry. In c­ hapter 16, Yhwh charged Ezekiel to “make known to Jerusalem her abominations” (16:2). A dispassionate, factual report would not be heard by an exilic audience with syncretistic, polytheistic tendencies. Therefore, Ezekiel characterizes Jerusalem not simply as an unfaithful wife who has stumbled, but as a nymphomaniac whose lust for sexual relationships with numerous partners is so strong that she pays her partners for sex. This inversion of the typical practice in the business of prostitution emphasizes that wife Jerusalem’s “sexual” drive is overheated (16:28, 30). But what makes this imagery even more shocking is the make-​up of the audience that Ezekiel was most likely addressing: males of whom a large number were either priests or government officials.24 As exiles or hostages who were anticipating a return to Jerusalem as their home, they

154   Dale Launderville would have identified with wife Jerusalem. The idolatrous deeds of wife Jerusalem were ones in which they had collectively participated—​and had not yet acknowledged. So when Ezekiel ramped up his charges against Jerusalem as acting like a “shameless prostitute” (‫ש ּלָטֶ ת‬ ַ ׁ ‫שה־זוֹנָה‬ ָ ּׁ ‫ ִא‬ˀišāh-zônāh šallāṭeṯ, v. 30), he seemed to be trying to remove from the exiles any basis for claiming that the punishment that they were undergoing was excessive. The abusive treatment that the exiles probably experienced as prisoners of war could be characterized as rape, literally or figuratively. The humiliation of the prisoner-​of-​war status would possibly have been coupled with an experience of gender inversion: a potentially explosive identity crisis for a male priestly elite.25 Wife Jerusalem’s payment of her lovers is taken from gifts bestowed on her by Yhwh. Her denial of Yhwh as the gift giver extends so far that she even takes the sons and daughters whom she bore for Yhwh and offers them as sacrifices to these lovers (vv. 20–​ 22).26 The punishment for these adulterous relationships is that Yhwh gathers all her lovers, exposes her nakedness to them, has them act as an assembly that stones her and hacks her to pieces, and has them burn their homes “while women look on” (v. 41; cf. 5:8; 23:46–​48). Such a mixing of the straightforward punishment for adultery (i.e., stoning, Deut 22:24) with the violent acts of war during a siege bring this metaphorical narrative to bear on the events of Jerusalem’s fall in 587.27 The upshot of this narrative is that wife Jerusalem must face the fact that her abominations have made her more corrupt than her neighbors Sodom and Samaria (vv. 46–​58): two sister cities traditionally looked down upon as depraved exploiters by the Jerusalemites (Gen 19:1–​29; Isa 1:10; 3:9; Jer 23:14). This extreme shame takes the form of self-​loathing; the Jerusalemites must hit rock-​bottom so that they might come to know Yhwh.28 When Yhwh forgives them in their radical vulnerability, they come to know who Yhwh is as their faithful covenant partner (16:62–​63). The image of Yhwh sketched out in the narrative of Ezekiel 16 has two aspects: a compassionate guardian, and a jilted husband. Initially, Yhwh adopts the foundling Jerusalem cast out by Amorite and Hittite parents; as father he raises her until she reaches a marriageable age, at which point he marries her and bestows royal status on her. Her infidelity enrages Yhwh as her husband, and so he turns her over to the wrath of her many lovers. In the end, when wife Jerusalem realizes the extent of her abominable behavior, Yhwh restores the covenant relationship—​with the result that she recognizes the depth of her ingratitude (vv. 61–​63). According to Ezek 36:20–​24, Yhwh intended to restore Israel to its land because his reputation demanded it. Neighboring nations regarded him as a deity unable to protect his own people. Therefore, he was moved to act to restore his own honor. According to verse 22, Yhwh says: “Not for your sake do I act, house of Israel, but for the sake of my holy name.” From the perspective of 36:20–​24, very little warmth returns to the covenant relationship between Yhwh and Israel. It is the promised objective event of Yhwh’s restoring Israel to the land (20:41–​44) and her status relative to Samaria and Sodom (16:61–​63) that changes Israel’s perception of her relationship to Yhwh. Her shame (16:63) and self-​ loathing (20:44; 36:31) signals an embodied, deep-​ seated acknowledgement of her abominable actions; this is what sets the house of Israel on the

Rhetorical Strategies in the Book of Ezekiel    155 right track. However, to deal with this guilt (36:33), the house of Israel will not only be restored to the land but will also receive a cleansing from Yhwh that will issue into a heart transplant and a share in the divine spirit (36:24–​28). This final action seems to restore warmth to the divine-​human relationship. It is significant that the name “Jerusalem” is not used in c­ hapter 16 after verse 4. The punishment described in verse 40 is that “she” is stoned and hacked to pieces. The continuing description of the punishment presupposes that Jerusalem is still alive, which may imply that the city itself has been reconfigured. True, there will be a city in the restoration to the land; but according to 48:35, the city is named “The Lord is there.” The name Jerusalem is likewise not mentioned in the oracles and visions dealing with the restored Israel (­chapters 34–​48). Wife Jerusalem has died, while the house of Israel lives on. Thus, the metaphorical narrative of c­ hapter 16 is realistic about the trauma that the historical Jerusalem suffered in 587. It upholds the principle that deeds carry consequences, while making its case persuasive via the use of shocking imagery that challenges its audience’s self-​understanding on an emotional level.

5.  Hubris Stands at the Central Rhetorical Point A wide-​ranging chiastic structure to the book was proposed by Richard Davidson; it identifies the dirge over the king of Tyre in 28:11–​19 as the book’s center.29 A (chs. 1–​11) Yhwh comes to the defiled Temple to investigate, judge, depart   B (chs. 12–​23) Oracles of Judgment   C (ch. 24) Jerusalem Besieged    D (25:1–​28:10) Oracles against the Nations     E (28:11–​19) Judgment on the Fallen Cherub    D′ (chs. 29–​32) Oracles against the Nations   C′ (ch. 33) Jerusalem Falls   B′ (chs. 34–​39) Oracles of Restoration A′ (chs. 40–​49) Yhwh comes to the restored Temple and does not depart

The stage is set for this dirge in 28:11–​19 in the preceding passage, in which the prince of Tyre identifies himself as El or as a god (v. 2)—​that is, either as the head of the divine pantheon or as a “mere” divinity. In either case, his transgression is an overstepping of boundaries; he claims an identity and status that has serious socio-​ political ramifications. The dirge begins by locating this royal figure on the mountain of God, in Eden. Thus it is a vision into the world beyond appearances, accessed via mythological language and imagery. He is one who has been blessed with every kind of perfection, wisdom, and beauty. Thus his narcissistic claims earlier in verse 2 are now revealed (vv. 12b–​13) to be a usurpation of divine gifts as if they were his own.

156   Dale Launderville In this respect, the prince’s attitude mirrors that of wife Jerusalem in 16:14–​15. In contrast to the description of her progressively moving toward doom by increasing profligacy (16:15–​34), the narrative of the downfall of Tyre’s ruler is abrupt and precipitous: “blameless were you in your ways from the day you were created, until evil was found in you” (28:15). This evil is briefly described: “your commerce was full of lawlessness” (v. 16a). Earlier, in verses 4–​5, the prince of Tyre was described as one who became rich through his cleverness in gaining wealth. But verse 16 states that this cleverness slipped into crookedness in his business dealings, which in the end corrupted his sanctuary (v. 18). By claiming to be completely autonomous or the head of the divine pantheon, the king of Type apparently had to seize every bit of wealth and power available in order to fuel this illusion. Analogously, wife Jerusalem pretended that she could be autonomous by relying on her beauty to secure treaty relationships with whomever she desired; but she ended up consuming all the gifts given her by Yhwh, including her children (16:20–​21). The narcissistic hubris of the king of Tyre is captured in the figure of the cherub. The Masoretic text of 28:14 reads: “You were a cherub.” The Mesopotamian background of the cherub figure is the bull-​man (kusarriku). The humanoid cherubim at the four corners of Yhwh’s cloud chariot in Ezek 1:5–​14 are bull-​men figures. One of these cherubim is singled out as an actor in 10:1–​7, when a cherub is asked to reach within the cloud chariot to get glowing coals for the burning of Jerusalem. Here the individual agency of the cherubim is acknowledged. The cherubim in 1:12 are suffused with the Spirit and thus move synchronously without needing to coordinate their movements intentionally. This divine guidance parallels the suffusion of the prophet Ezekiel with the Spirit (2:2)—​which assists in curtailing any autonomous or even rebellious actions on his part. In short, the cherubim are supernatural beings endowed with extraordinary power and authority, placed next to the Divine Sovereign to bear his throne. But inherent within their power and position is the potential to rebel with major repercussions. In 28:14, the king of Tyre is pictured as a cherub who has rebelled—​and attempted to become the head of the pantheon. Instead of maintaining his position as a throne-​ bearer or a symbol that pointed beyond himself to the true Sovereign, he has attempted to usurp that sovereign position for himself. Hubris is thus the seizing of a measure of autonomy beyond one’s station in life, which entails that one must exploit others to sustain such autonomy. This transgression lies at the center of the book of Ezekiel—​but fans out into numerous other passages (16:15–​22; 17:15–​16; 27:1–​10; 29:3, 15; 30:6; 31:2–​ 10, 14, 18). If this dirge in vv. 11–​19 originally referred to the high priest in Jerusalem, it emphasizes how the Jerusalem Temple not only had become defiled but also was an agent of exploitation. This dirge at the books’ center provides a rhetorical context for interpreting the nickname that Ezekiel gives to the Israelites: the rebellious ones (2:3–​7; 3:9). Such rebellion is not a minor rambunctiousness or moderate pressing of the boundaries, but rather is a more serious calling into question the justice of the divine rule (18:25). Thus the book of Ezekiel—​in spite of its acknowledgement of the ambiguities of human experience and its incorporation of competing viewpoints in its narrative—​mutes any complaints that

Rhetorical Strategies in the Book of Ezekiel    157 call into question the justice of Yhwh’s rule. The logic of such a constraint is that it keeps one’s feet on the ground and does not allow a human questioner to be equal or superior to Yhwh. The rhetoric of the book acknowledges the difficulty of such a gag rule in its First Temple Vision, when the people of Jerusalem were being killed by the divinely sent executioners. Here even the muted Ezekiel was allowed to cry out: “Alas, Lord God! Will you destroy all that is left of Israel when you pour out your fury on Jerusalem?” Also in the sixth sign-​act (21:11–​12), Ezekiel was commanded: “And you, son of man, groan! With a broken back, bitterly groan in their sight.” This trembling response occurred when the visionary Ezekiel saw Yhwh’s sword killing the righteous and the wicked (21:8). The book of Ezekiel accents the vast difference in status between Yhwh and his creatures—​a point repeatedly made when Yhwh addresses Ezekiel as “son of man” or “mortal” (2:1, 3, 6, etc.). Ezekiel predicted the downfall of Tyre in ­chapters 26–​27. In 26:7–​12, in an oracle dated to February 3, 586, Ezekiel predicted that Nebuchadrezzar would lay siege to Tyre and destroy it. However, in 29:17–​20, in an oracle bearing the latest date in the book, April 26, 571, Ezekiel noted that Nebuchadrezzar was not able to conquer Tyre—​and thus Yhwh would give him Egypt as a consolation prize. This acknowledgement that Ezekiel’s prophecy in 26:7–​12 had failed could be seen as evidence that the dates are historically accurate. Sweeney and Mayfield argue that the thirteen chronological formulae in the book are indeed historically accurate and provide the most objective criterion for discerning the structure of the book.30 Those who doubt the historical reliability of the chronological formulas propose that they are part of the book’s literary arrangement. As such, the formulas support the claim that Ezekiel made predictions that came true. Thus he was a true prophet (cf. Deut 18:22). If so, then a failed prophecy did not immediately disconfirm the authenticity of his call. The inclusion of 29:17–​20 seems to say, then, that the predictions that Yhwh gave Ezekiel to speak are ones that may not be fully realized in the short term but will eventually come to pass. (Two and a half centuries later, in 332 bce, Tyre would be conquered by Alexander the Great, after building a causeway to turn the island into a peninsula.) The book of Ezekiel aims to create a vision of Yhwh as a covenant partner not only for the exiles but also for generations to come. There is an “already/​not yet” character to the book that invites readers to bring this book’s message to bear on the dying and rising experiences of their communities and institutions.

6.  “The End”: Rhetoric of Death and the Priestly Imagination As an eschatological work, the book of Ezekiel has been divided into two sections (chs. 1–​24; 25–​48) or three (chs. 1–​24; 25–​32; 33–​48). Ezekiel announced the “end” repeatedly

158   Dale Launderville in his communications with the exiles from 593 to 588. The passages that capture most poignantly his awareness that the end was near occur in ­chapters 7 and 21. The short, fragmentary lines with repeated vocabulary depict Ezekiel as a sentinel sounding the alarm of the deadly threat against the land: “An end! The end has come against the four corners of the land. Now the end is upon you” (7:2b–​3a). In his next judgment oracle, the sense of alarm intensifies: “An evil, a one-​of-​a-​kind evil—​behold! It comes. An end is coming; the end has come. It has awakened against you; behold! It comes” (7:5–​6). These short, repetitive lines communicate a sense of danger and urgency. According to the book’s chronology, these announcements of “the end” occurred somewhere between August 593 and September 592. As the beginning of the siege (January 588) drew near, Ezekiel was charged with performing a sign act reflecting a close encounter with this deadly threat: “And you, son of man, groan! With a broken back, bitterly groan in their sight” (21:11). When his audience would see him acting this way and ask him its meaning, he was directed to respond: “When it comes, every heart shall melt, and every hand shall be weak, and every spirit shall faint, and every knee shall run with water. Behold! It is coming, and it will happen!” (21:12; cf. 7:17). The sense of alarm was to be intensified by his groaning as if he had been struck by an enemy soldier. These depictions of Ezekiel’s visionary encounters with death emphasized that for the people of Jerusalem and Judah, there was no escape. The impending death of wife Jerusalem provided a fixed point from which the exiles could reorient their lives. Denial of this death would not remove the exiles’ need for a change of heart. This threat from famine, pestilence, and the sword is not the only manifestation of death in the book of Ezekiel. The references to impurities, defilements, and abominations abound in the book—​and would have been perceived in the priestly imagination as a species of death. The accumulation of impurities in the Temple was regarded as the reason why Yhwh could no longer reside there (8:6; 24:13). There is a note of irony in Yhwh’s strategy for bringing defiling idolatrous cults to an end: by slaying the idolaters and heap their corpses on their idols (6:4–​7; 9:7). As the most potent form of impurity, a corpse could render anyone who touched it unclean for seven days. Therefore, the slaying of Jerusalem’s population in the First Temple Vision desecrated the city and the Temple, by the corpses left not only by foreign armies but also by those executed for murder (9:1–​2, 9–​10). Thus, the cauldron song in 24:11–​13 speaks of unrequited bloodshed that has accumulated as grime or impurity on the sides of the cauldron, symbolizing Jerusalem. This grime would be removed as the slain inhabitants were boiled away by an intense fire under the cauldron (24:10); this fire would not only melt the bones but also make the cauldron’s copper glow (24:11). This purificatory ritual in the cauldron song parallels the purification of Jerusalem and its temple by fire (10:2, 6). This purificatory measure bears a number of similarities to a “purification sacrifice” (ḥattat);31 however, it would be unique as a ḥattat, insofar as Yhwh would be the priest conducting the sacrifice, and as the cauldron’s contents (human corpses) would be boiled away rather than consumed by the priests. From a priestly perspective, death and its related manifestations (e.g., scaly skin disease, abnormal genital emissions) must be kept out of sacred space (Num 5:2). The

Rhetorical Strategies in the Book of Ezekiel    159 discipline of creating and maintaining sacred space within the covenant community was the raison d’être of the Israelite priesthood (Num 18:1). As a Zadokite priest, Ezekiel had been schooled in this priestly mentality—​and tried to sustain it even though he was not able to function in a sanctuary. In his criticism of Jerusalem’s corrupt leadership in 22:23–​31, Ezekiel made known Yhwh’s assessment of the priests’ transgressions: “Her priests violate my law and desecrate what I consider holy; they do not distinguish between holy and common, and do not teach the difference between clean and unclean; they pay no attention to my Sabbaths—​so that I have been desecrated in their midst” (v. 26). This summary emphasizes the priests’ teaching responsibilities; it is echoed in 44:23–​24 as a duty distinguishing the higher-​ranking Zadokite priests (44:15–​31) from the Levites. The rhetorical argument of the New Temple Vision (chs. 40–​48) condemns the pre-​ exilic house of Israel for “its prostitutions” and for burying their kings next to the Temple (43:7). To create an environment in which Yhwh’s house would not be defiled, a detailed blueprint was drawn up to mark the boundaries between sacred and profane space, and to define who has access to these areas (40:1–​42:20). Thus, a diagram of the graded holiness of the sanctuary is aligned with the hierarchy of priestly personnel (44:10–​31). The royal leader is designated a “chief, prince” and not a “king.” He is responsible for providing the temple with material support (45:17) and is given a position in the eastern gate on the Sabbath and feasts, to observe the sacrificial offerings in the inner court (46:1–​2, 4–​7, 11–​12). The prescription in 44:25—​that a Zadokite priest may draw near to a corpse only if the deceased is a member of his nuclear family—​echoes that prescribed for the high priest in Lev 21:1–​4. But Ezek 44:25–​26 adds the requirement that when defiled he not only undergo the traditional seven-​day purification period but also an additional seven days of purification, capped with providing a purification offering for himself. The responsibilities of the Zadokites are largely consistent with those of the altar priests mapped out in the Mosaic Torah.32 This emphasis on purification from corpse contamination also occurred in the account of Gog’s invasion, in which vast numbers of his soldiers died in the land of Israel such that a mass grave was created—​to which corpses and dead bones were to be added when discovered (39:11–​16). (Meanwhile, the ritual for purification from corpse contamination was to be carried out by a “pure” lay person: one who had not been contaminated at that time; the only priestly involvement was in the creation of the ashes of the red heifer required in the ritual; Num 19:1–​22.) This heightened concern over corpse contamination in the Gog episode contrasts with the vision of the dry bones. In the visionary space of 37:1–​2, Ezekiel was led about in a field of dry bones, evidently the scene of a massive defeat of an Israelite army in the past. Here no anxiety about being contaminated by the bones was expressed. Perhaps this particular visionary context changed the issue of corpse contamination: the dynamic power of death’s ruling over the bones was about to be banished by the rûaḥ of Yhwh—​summoned by the divinely-​directed prophetic word (37:4, 7, 9, 10)—​that would suffuse the bones and bring them back to life. This transformative power of Yhwh was also dominant in 36:23–​38, in which the Israelites were promised a new heart and a share

160   Dale Launderville in Yhwh’s Spirit, and the land itself would be renewed and made abundantly fertile. This transformative power of Yhwh would make it possible for the house of Israel to know who Yhwh is (v. 38). As the Sovereign over nature and history, Yhwh is able to change the paradigm, or the limits of what is possible. This vision (37:1–​10) must touch back to the earthly context, in which the power of death is still operative. As 20:4–​31 made clear, the Israelite community has a collective responsibility to serve Yhwh. Concrete means of keeping the house of Israel mindful of this responsibility are provided by the priestly imagination, as sketched out in c­ hapters 40–​48. In that vision, the individual Israelites’ call to obedience is given a communal context. The tension between the eschatological visions and oracles in c­ hapters 34–​48 and quotidian reality actually generates hope: possibilities exist beyond the audience’s experiences of collective and individual death. The priestly imagination generates hope on the basis of the conviction that life triumphs over death among the Israelites—​if Yhwh is honored. The rhetorical goal of c­ hapters 40–​48 is to exhort priests, Levites, civic rulers, and people of the covenant to remain exclusively faithful to Yhwh by following Yhwh’s laws and statutes. The priestly system in this vision organizes space linearly in terms of graded holiness—​from the holy of holies outward, and concentrically in terms of having all groups and tribes situated around the sanctuary. Also time is organized on the basis of the offerings required on the Sabbath and major feast days (45:18–​46:7). Thus, the system organizes space and time so that a routine can be established to keep the community as a whole faithful to Yhwh alone. Yhwh is the source of life-​giving waters that can transform a landscape—​and make possible a new, more just configuration of community life (47:1–​ 48:29). This priestly system may serve as a critique of practices in the already-​rebuilt Second Temple, in the middle of the fifth century.33 It then would shape the program of the Zadokite priests who controlled that Temple until the time of the Maccabees.

7. Conclusions The rhetorical strategies of the book of Ezekiel function within a narrative that tells the story (mythos) of the dying and rising of the house of Israel at the time of the fall of Jerusalem and the destruction of the temple in 587. This narrative aims to create in its audience a priestly imagination sustained by a vision of ongoing divine accompaniment in the “already/​not yet” circumstances of the exile and diaspora. The well-​known pattern of the mythological story of the triumph of life-​giving order over death-​dealing chaos combines with the narrative visions of the transcendence and immanence of Yhwh, to advocate for the prophet Ezekiel’s credibility (ethos). Under the umbrella (logos) of this visionary narrative, the various oracles complement one another—​to heighten the rhetorical impact of the message of doom (chs. 7 and 21), or to examine the phenomenon of true versus false prophecy (chs. 12–​14). Alternatively, oracles and narratives counterpoint one another, to generate an ongoing

Rhetorical Strategies in the Book of Ezekiel    161 search for a balanced approach to the antinomies of human experience that concern ethical issues (chs. 18 and 20) and theopolitical ones (chs. 17 and 19). The anthropological-​theological claim at the apparent chiastic center of the Ezekielian narrative (28:11–​19) identifies hubris as the chaotic force within the human heart that devours others and the environment around it. Finally, the life-​and-​death issues addressed by the narrative often demand the use of extreme imagery, so as to engage the audience’s emotions (pathos) as well as their intellect and will.

Notes 1. John Barton, “History and Rhetoric in the Prophets,” in The Bible as Rhetoric: Studies in Biblical Persuasion and Credibility, ed. M. Warner (London: Routledge, 1990), 51–​64, here 52. 2. Ellen F. Davis, Swallowing the Scroll (JSOTSup 78; Sheffield: Almond, 1989), 82–​83, 107, 130–​131. 3. Richard Kearney, On Stories (London: Routledge, 2002), 9, 12–​13. 4. Cf. Donald E. Gowan, Theology of the Prophetic Books: The Death & Resurrection of Israel (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1998) 9. 5. On the rhetorical components of telling a persuasive story, see Kearney, Stories, 129–​156; see also Brad Kelle, Hosea 2: Metaphor and Rhetoric in Historical Perspective (Academia Biblica 20; Atlanta: SBL, 2005) 22–​23; Michael V. Fox, “The Rhetoric of Ezekiel’s Vision of the Valley of the Bones,” Hebrew Union College Annual 51 (1980): 1–​15, here 3–​5. 6. K. S. Freedy and D. B. Redford, “The Dates in Relation to Biblical, Babylonian and Egyptian Sources,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 90 (1970): 462–​485, here 467. 7. Richard A. Parker and Waldo H. Dubberstein, Babylonian Chronology: 626 B.C. –​A.D. 75 (Providence, RI: Brown University Press, 1956): 27–​28; Freedy and Redford, “The Dates in Relation to Biblical, Babylonian and Egyptian Sources,” 468–​469; John H. Hayes and Paul K. Hooker, A New Chronology for the Kings of Israel and Judah and Its Implications for Biblical History and Literature (Atlanta: John Knox, 1988), 97. 8. Ruth Poser argues that this negative portrayal of Israel’s history places the catastrophe of the fall of Jerusalem in the context of cause and effect so that Israel in its collective identity can move beyond seeing itself as a helpless victim; “No Words: The Book of Ezekiel as Trauma Literature and a Response to Exile,” in Bible Through the Lens of Trauma, ed. Elizabeth Boase and Christopher Frechette (Semeia Studies 86; Atlanta: SBL, 2016), 27–​ 48, here 33. For his part, Christopher B. Hays exhorts rhetorical critics to attend to the prophets’ efforts to intervene in the political events of their time and not to focus primarily on stylistic, literary devices; Death in the Iron Age II and in First Isaiah (Forschungen zum Alten Testament 79; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 196. 9. Cf. Christl Maier, Daughter Zion, Mother Zion: Gender, Space, and the Sacred in Ancient Israel (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2008), 12, who draws on Lefebvre’s tria-​lectical model; Henri Lefebvre, The Production of Space, trans. Donald Nicholson-​Smith (Malden, MA: Blackwell, 1991), 170. 10. Elements of this storyline reiterate the traditional ancient Near Eastern “Combat Myth”: (1) the divine warrior battles against the god of chaos who has infiltrated his land and culture, (2) the divine warrior is victorious over the god of chaos and his forces, and (3) the

162   Dale Launderville divine warrior celebrates his kingship over his territory by entering his new temple. See Frank Cross, Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1973), 142. The story told by the book of Ezekiel recalls the traditional Combat Myth but anchors it within the specific events associated with the fall of Jerusalem in 587; cf. Lawrence Boadt, “Mythological Themes and the Unity of Ezekiel,” in Literary Structure and Rhetorical Strategies in the Hebrew Bible, ed. L. J. de Regt, J. de Waard, and J. P. Fokkelman (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1996), 211–​231, here 218, 229–​231; Bernard Batto, Slaying the Dragon: Mythmaking in the Biblical Tradition (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1992), 167. 11. Tyler D. Mayfield, Literary Structure and Setting in Ezekiel (Forschungen zum Alten Testament 2/​43; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 3; Marvin Sweeney, Reading Ezekiel: A Literary and Theological Commentary (Reading the Old Testament; Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 2013), 8. 12. D. Nathan Phinney, “Life Writing in Ezekiel and First Zechariah,” in Tradition in Transition: Haggai and Zechariah 1–​8 in the Trajectory of Hebrew Theology, ed. M. J. Boda and M. H. Floyd (Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 475; New York: T&T Clark, 2008), 83–​103, here 88–​90; cf. Corrine L. Patton, “Priest, Prophet, and Exile: Ezekiel as a Literary Construct,” in Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World: Wrestling with a Tiered Reality, ed. Stephen L. Cook and Corrine L. Patton (SBL Symposium Series 31; Atlanta: SBL, 2000), 73–​89. 13. Davis, Swallowing the Scroll, 136; Thomas Renz, The Rhetorical Function of the Book of Ezekiel (Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 76; Leiden: Brill, 1999), 63, 70, 137–​140. 14. Cf. David M. Howard, Jr., “Rhetorical Criticism in Old Testament Studies,” Bulletin for Biblical Research 4 (1994): 87–​104, here 98. 15. The term ruaḥ occurs 52 times in the book of Ezekiel, functioning as an “expanding symbol” in its narrative. See Pamela Kinlaw, “From Death to Life: The Expanding Rûaḥ in Ezekiel,” Perspectives in Religious Studies 30 (2003), 161–​173; E. K. Brown, Rhythm in the Novel (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1950), 44–​46; Dale Launderville, Spirit and Reason: The Embodied Character of Ezekiel’s Symbolic Thinking (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2007), 347–​384. Lawrence Boadt has demonstrated how the ten uses of the term ruaḥ in 37:1–​14 highlight the remaking of the covenant relationship, by moving from mere “life spirit” in vv. 1–​8, to “the Spirit” (Spirit from God’s sphere) in vv. 9–​10, to “my own Spirit” (Yhwh’s Spirit) in vv. 11–​14; “The Dramatic Structure of Ezekiel 37, 1–​4,” in Palabra, Prodigo, Poesía: In Memoriam P. Luis Alonso Schökel, S.J., ed. V. C. Bertomeu (Analecta Biblica 151; Rome: Editrice Pontificio Istituto Biblico, 2003), 191–​205, here 203–​ 205. Poser argues that the motif of ruaḥ assists the traumatized exiles to symbolize overwhelming memories of violence and place them in a sequence of meaning; “Ezekiel as Trauma Literature,” 41. As an ambiguous force of destruction and revival, ruaḥ can serve as a “secret for survival” for the traumatized. 16. Cf. Frank Ankersmit, “Historicism, Post-​ Modernism and Epistemology,” in Post-​ Modernism and Anthropology: Theory and Practice, ed. K. Geuijen, D. Raven, and J. de Wolf (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1995), 21–​51, here 26. 17. Poser claims that the traumatized often cannot find either language adequate to articulate the violence they have suffered or an empathetic listener; “Ezekiel as Trauma Literature,” 31, 34. 18. Lawrence Boadt, “Rhetorical Strategies in Ezekiel’s Oracles of Judgment,” in Ezekiel and His Book, ed. J. Lust et al. (Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniesium 74; Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1986), 182–​200, here 189.

Rhetorical Strategies in the Book of Ezekiel    163 19. Barton, “History and Rhetoric,” 54; Launderville, Spirit and Reason, 16, 204–​206. 20. Moshe Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20 (Anchor Bible 22; New York: Doubleday, 1983), 321–​322; cf. Carol Newsom, “A Maker of Metaphors: Ezekiel’s Oracles against Tyre,” in “This Place Is Too Small for Us”: The Israelite Prophets in Recent Scholarship, ed. Robert P. Gordon (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1995), 191–​204, here 192–​193; Kelle, Hosea 2, 34–​44. 21. Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20, 317–​324; Boadt, “Rhetorical Strategies,” 193. 22. Trauma theorists regard the muted Ezekiel as an embodied witness who paradoxically gives readers the language to deal with the catastrophe of 587; Poser, “Ezekiel as Trauma Literature,” 44. 23. Daniel Block, “Divine Abandonment: Ezekiel’s Adaptation of an Ancient Near Eastern Motif,” in The Book of Ezekiel: Theological and Anthropological Perspectives, ed. Margaret Odell and John Strong (SBL Symposium Series 9; Atlanta: Scholars, 2000), 15–​42, esp. 24–​ 31; Barton, “History and Rhetoric,” 56. 24. Dale Launderville, “ ‘Misogyny’ in the Service of Theocentricity: Legitimate or Not,” in Prophets Male and Female: Gender and Prophecy in the Hebrew Bible, the Eastern Mediterranean, and the Ancient Near East, ed. Jonathan Stökl and Corrine L. Carvalho (Ancient Israel and It Literature 15; Atlanta: SBL, 2013), 191–​214, here 207–​209. 25. Tamara Kamionkowski, Gender Reversal and Cosmic Chaos: A Study of the Book of Ezekiel (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 368; London: Sheffield Academic, 2003), 7–​8, 92, 132; cf. Corrine L. Carvalho, “Sex and the Single Prophet: Marital Status and Gender in Jeremiah and Ezekiel,” in Stökl and Carvalho, Prophets Male and Female, 237–​267, here 241–​250. 26. Margaret Odell claims that the ‫ צַלְמֵ י זָכָ ר‬ṣalmê zāḵār (NRSV: “male images”) in 16:15–​22 refer to the images of imperial treaty partners erected in public places­—​images that accented the foreign king’s virility; she argues that the “offerings” made to these statues were the lives of Jerusalemites lost in battles in retaliation for broken treaties; “Fragments of Traumatic Memory: Ṣalmê Zākār and Child Sacrifice in Ezekiel 16:15–​22,” in Boase and Frechette, Lens of Trauma, 107–​124, here 116–​117. 27. Peggy L. Day, “Yahweh’s Broken Marriages as Metaphoric Vehicle,” in Sacred Marriages: The Divine-​Human Sexual Metaphor from Sumer to Early Christianity, ed. Martti Nissinen and Risto Uro (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2008), 219–​241, here 232–​235. 28. Jacqueline Lapsley, “Shame and Self-​Knowledge: The Positive Role of Shame in Ezekiel’s View of the Moral Self,” in Odell and Strong, Ezekiel, 143–​173, here 161–​162. 29. Richard M. Davidson, “The Chiastic Literary Structure of the Book of Ezekiel,” in To Understand the Scriptures: Essays in Honor of William H. Shea, ed. D. Merling (Berrien Springs, MI: Institute of Archaeology, Andrews University, 1997), 71–​93, here 75. On the center of the chiasm as “the turning point,” see Jack Lundbom, “Rhetorical Discourse in the Prophets,” in Biblical Rhetoric and Rhetorical Criticism (Hebrew Bible Monographs 45; Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2013), 165–​201, here 174. 30. See Mayfield, Literary Structure and Setting, 3; Sweeney, Reading Ezekiel, 8. 31. Marvin Sweeney, Form and Intertextuality in Prophetic and Apocalyptic Literature (Forschungen zum Alten Testament 45; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 134, 137. 32. Michael Konkel, “The System of Holiness in Ezekiel’s Vision of the New Temple (Ezek 40–​48),” in Purity and the Forming of Religious Traditions in the Ancient Mediterranean World and Ancient Judaism, ed. Christian Frevel and Christophe Nihan (Dynamics in the History of Religion 3; Leiden: Brill, 2013), 429–​455, here 442. 33. Konkel, “System of Holiness,” 449.

164   Dale Launderville

Bibliography Ankersmit, Frank. “Historicism, Post-​Modernism and Epistemology.” In Post-​Modernism and Anthropology: Theory and Practice, edited by K. Geuijen, D. Raven, and J. de Wolf, 21–​51. Assen: Van Gorcum, 1995. Barton, John. “History and Rhetoric in the Prophets.” In The Bible as Rhetoric: Studies in Biblical Persuasion and Credibility, edited by M. Warner, 51–​64. London: Routledge, 1990. Block, Daniel. “Divine Abandonment: Ezekiel’s Adaptation of an Ancient Near East­ern Motif.” In Odell and Strong, Ezekiel, 15–​42. Boadt, Lawrence. “The Dramatic Structure of Ezekiel 37, 1–​4.” In Palabra, Prodigo, Poesía: In Memoriam P. Luis Alonso Schökel, S.J., edited by V. C. Bertomeu, 191–​205. AnBib 151; Rome: Editrice Pontificio Istituto Biblico, 2003. Boadt, Lawrence. “Mythological Themes and the Unity of Ezekiel.” In Literary Structure and Rhetorical Strategies in the Hebrew Bible, edited by L. J. de Regt, J. de Waard, and J. P. Fokkelman, 211–​31. Assen: Van Gorcum, 1996. Boadt, Lawrence. “Rhetorical Strategies in Ezekiel’s Oracles of Judgment.” In Ezekiel and His Book, edited by J. Lust et al., 182–​200. Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniesium 74. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1986. Boase, Elizabeth, and Christopher G. Frechette, eds. Bible through the Lens of Trauma. Semeia Studies 86. Atlanta: SBL, 2016. Brown, E. K. Rhythm in the Novel. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1950. Carvalho, Corrine L. “Sex and the Single Prophet: Marital Status and Gender in Jeremiah and Ezekiel.” In Stökl and Carvalho, Prophets Male and Female, 237–​67. Davidson, R. M. “The Chiastic Literary Structure of the Book of Ezekiel.” In To Understand the Scriptures: Essays in Honor of William H. Shea, edited by D. Merling, 71–​93. Berrien Springs, MI: Institute of Archaeology, Andrews University, 1997. Davis, Ellen F. Swallowing the Scroll. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 78. Sheffield: Almond, 1989. Day, Peggy L. “Yahweh’s Broken Marriages as Metaphoric Vehicle.” In Sacred Marriages: The Divine-​Human Sexual Metaphor from Sumer to Early Christianity, edited by M. Nissinen and R. Uro, 219–​241. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2008. Fox, Michael V. “The Rhetoric of Ezekiel’s Vision of the Valley of the Bones.” Hebrew Union College Annual 51 (1980): 1–​15. Freedy, K. S., and D. B. Redford, “The Dates in Relation to Biblical, Babylonian and Egyptian Sources.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 90 (1970): 442–​485. Gowan, Donald E. Theology of the Prophetic Books: The Death & Resurrection of Israel. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1998. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 1–​20. Anchor Bible 22. New York: Doubleday, 1983. Hayes, John H., and Paul K. Hooker. A New Chronology for the Kings of Israel and Judah and Its Implications for Biblical History and Literature. Atlanta: John Knox, 1988. Howard, David M., Jr. “Rhetorical Criticism in Old Testament Studies.” Bulletin for Biblical Research 4 (1994): 87–​104. Kamionkowski, Tamar. Gender Reversal and Cosmic Chaos: A Study of the Book of Ezekiel. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 368. London: Sheffield Academic, 2003. Kearney, Richard. On Stories. London: Routledge, 2002. Kelle, Brad. Hosea 2: Metaphor and Rhetoric in Historical Perspective. Academia Biblica 20. Atlanta: SBL, 2005.

Rhetorical Strategies in the Book of Ezekiel    165 Kinlaw, Pamela. “From Death to Life: The Expanding Rûaḥ in Ezekiel.” Perspectives in Religious Studies 30 (2003): 161–​173. Konkel, Michael. “The System of Holiness in Ezekiel’s Vision of the New Temple (Ezek 40–​48).” In Purity and the Forming of Religious Traditions in the Ancient Mediterranean World and Ancient Judaism, edited by C. Frevel and C. Nihan, 429–​455. Dynamics in the History of Religion 3. Leiden: Brill, 2013. Lapsley, Jacqueline. “Shame and Self-​Knowledge: The Positive Role of Shame in Ezekiel’s View of the Moral Self.” In Odell and Strong, Ezekiel, 143–​173. Launderville, Dale. “ ‘Misogyny’ in the Service of Theocentricity: Legitimate or Not.” In Stökl and Carvalho, Prophets Male and Female, 191–​214. Launderville, Dale. Spirit and Reason: The Embodied Character of Ezekiel’s Symbolic Thinking. Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2007. Lundbom, Jack. “Rhetorical Discourse in the Prophets.” In Biblical Rhetoric and Rhetorical Criticism, 165–​201. Hebrew Bible Monographs 45. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2013. Mayfield, Tyler D. Literary Structure and Setting in Ezekiel. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 2/​43. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010. Newsom, Carol. “A Maker of Metaphors: Ezekiel’s Oracles against Tyre.” In “This Place Is Too Small for Us”: The Israelite Prophets in Recent Scholarship, edited by R. P. Gordon, 191–​204. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1995. Odell, Margaret, and J. Strong, eds. The Book of Ezekiel: Theological and Anthropological Perspectives. SBL Symposium Series 9. Atlanta: Scholars, 2000. Odell, Margaret. “Fragments of Traumatic Memory: Ṣalmê Zākār and Child Sacrifice in Ezekiel 16:15–​22.” In Boase and Frechette, Bible Through the Lens of Trauma, 107–​24. Parker, Richard A., and Waldo H. Dubberstein. Babylonian Chronology: 626 B.C.–​A.D. 75. Providence, RI: Brown University Press, 1956. Patton, Corrine L. “Priest, Prophet, and Exile: Ezekiel as a Literary Construct.” In Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World: Wrestling with a Tiered Reality, edited by S.L. Cook and C.L. Patton, 73–​ 89. SBL Symposium Series 31. Atlanta: SBL, 2000. Phinney, D. Nathan. “Life Writing in Ezekiel and First Zechariah.” In Tradition in Transition: Haggai and Zechariah 1–​8 in the Trajectory of Hebrew Theology, edited by M. J. Boda and M. H. Floyd, 83–​103. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 475. New York: T&T Clark, 2008. Poser, Ruth. “No Words: The Book of Ezekiel as Trauma Literature and a Response to Exile.” In Boase and Frechette, Bible Through the Lens of Trauma, 27–​48. Renz, Thomas. The Rhetorical Function of the Book of Ezekiel. Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 76. Leiden: Brill, 1999. Stökl, Jonathan, and Corrine L. Carvalho, eds. Prophets Male and Female: Gender and Prophecy in the Hebrew Bible, the Eastern Mediterranean, and the Ancient Near East. Ancient Israel and Its Literature 15. Atlanta: SBL, 2013. Sweeney, Marvin. Reading Ezekiel: A Literary and Theological Commentary. Reading the Old Testament. Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 2013. Sweeney, Marvin. Form and Intertextuality in Prophetic and Apocalyptic Literature. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 45. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezekiel 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 1–​24. Translated by Ronald E. Clements. Hermeneia. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979.

Chapter 9

E zekiel as a Wri t t e n T e xt Archiving Visions, Remembering Futures Ian D. Wilson

Ezekiel is a strange text, at home among the literary traditions of the Hebrew Bible and yet unique in a number of its features and themes.1 It is, too, a troubling text—​while at the same time a text of restoration and hope. Its readers encounter divine abandonment and sexual violence, and yet they are also invited to imagine a utopia of temple and divinely promised land. This array of textual imagery has been the subject of scholarly study for millennia. The concern of this chapter, however, is Ezekiel as a text. Ezekiel is a collection of writings apparently meant to be read again and again. It presents a range of ideas in dialogue with one another and sometimes in tension—​ideas of humanity and divinity, temple and land, priesthood and kingship, among others. It thus provided ample space for continual discussion and reinterpretation of its ideas among its original readers in antiquity, within a kind of “textual community.”2 And over the centuries it has indeed been read and reread continually, aloud and silently, among groups and by individuals, in a variety of textual forms and editions—​as a scroll, as its own codex or as part of one, as digital information displayed on a pixelated screen, and so on.3 In this chapter, I examine Ezekiel as a written text within the ancient world. How does the fact of its “written-​ness” inform our understandings of it as a source for Judean antiquity? Ezekiel, the text, is primarily writing about the past, but with a keen sense of possible futures. What knowledge of ancient Judean literary culture can we gain from a close analysis of its self-​presentation and organization? The text presents itself as an ordered collection of speeches and vision reports. It also has a certain meta-​ generic character, evincing a close interrelationship with historical interests in particular. I argue, therefore, that Ezekiel would function as a kind of archive of speech and vision—​an idea that challenges commonly held notions of prophetic literature’s function and understandings of its generic intersections with other Judean texts in antiquity.

Ezekiel as a Written Text    167

1.  Ezekiel as Prophetic Text Generically, Ezekiel is a literary text that contains accounts of purportedly divine speech and action. It also contains accounts of human speech and action related to the deity’s speaking and acting. Prophecy, as a human activity meant to transmit divine communication, was widespread in the ancient Near Eastern world. Written sources from Mari, Nineveh, Babylon, Lachish, and other locales attest to the general commonness of prophetic activity throughout the region in antiquity.4 However, prophetic texts like Ezekiel—​i.e., like those we now find in the Hebrew Bible—​were uncommon, perhaps even unique to ancient Judean literary culture. These texts contain a number of distinctive features. They are collections of oracles and reported visions that claim association with a single prophetic figure from the past, and they claim to contain knowledge about the deity Yahweh that would pertain to that particular past moment (e.g., Ezek 1:1–​3). Even so, they also convey a sense of timelessness. In these prophetic texts, historical anchors—​given as matters of fact in the texts’ introductory statements and occasionally reinforced elsewhere within the texts—​ often seem loose or flagging in the course of reading the texts’ main oracles and vision reports. Ezekiel appears firmly set in Babylonia around the turn of the sixth century bce, frequently providing precise locales and dates for the prophet’s reception of the divine revelations therein. That being said, many visions lack contextual specifics—​the famous vision of the dry bones coming to life at the words of the prophet, for example (37:1–​14)—​and thereby have proven meaningful as messages of future restoration for any number of diaspora communities, for well over two thousand years. Biblical prophetic collections therefore participate in a recognizable generic category unto themselves.5 They contain messages from the past attributed to a prophetic figure in that past. Their messages appear to speak to situations of that past moment and its immediate consequences, in some cases quite directly and with a sense of restricted applicability. Often, however, the messages are directed toward some distant future, toward a time to be long awaited by the texts’ audiences. And in every case, the seemingly time-​restricted messages are couched within a larger textual framework that blurs boundaries between past and future, between the already and the not yet, effectively erasing the here-​and-​now of an implied readership in Judah’s post-​monarchic era. Prophetic texts clearly imply an “exilic” or “postexilic” audience. That is, they assume Judean readerships situated in the Neo-​Babylonian and Persian periods of the ancient Near East (sixth to fourth centuries bce), at a time when Jerusalem was very slowly rebounding from imperial devastation.6 They point back to the events that eventually led to the collapse of Israel and Judah as independent polities in the Levant, and yet call attention to a future in which a utopian Israel/​Judah/​Jerusalem will be established. They recount reasons for the Jerusalem temple’s destruction, for the demise of Yahweh’s own dwelling place on earth, and yet they imagine the deity’s return to the land and the rebuilding of the house within it. They represent a “remembered future,” in that they

168   Ian D. Wilson depict a past in which a distant future (or a horizon of possible futures) was imagined for the people of Israel.7 From a reader’s perspective, the present is usually not, therefore, present in the texts, except implicitly in the fact of the texts’ written status. That is, the texts’ concern for the here and now, for any present time, is evident only in the fact that they were written down and meant to be read by the community in which and for which they emerged, and by which they were preserved for subsequent communities to pick up and read in their present moments. By not directly addressing the present, the texts subtly preserve and reinforce the gap between distant past and imagined future for their implied and actual readerships.8 The Hebrew Bible’s prophetic texts are, then, situated within the past and thoroughly interested in that past, even though their orientation—​the temporal direction toward which they ultimately point—​is the future. Elsewhere, drawing on theories of social memory and remembering, I have argued that readings of historiographical literature, in an ancient Judean context, likely informed readings of prophetic literature, and vice versa. I suggest we reconsider how we talk about the generic functions of these texts, especially the prophetic, within ancient Judean culture.9 The notion that Judean historiography might have had prophetic tendencies, for its ancient readership, is recognized already in Jewish canonical tradition, which has ascribed the label “Former Prophets” to the texts of Joshua, Judges, Samuel, and Kings.10 But recognizing the reverse influence—​ that prophetic literature might have had historiographical tendencies, and that Judean readers might have picked up prophetic texts with an eye toward history—​has not been a common line of thought.11 Although prophetic writing is not usually viewed as history, in our modern sense of the concept,12 it nonetheless contains features that tend toward the historiographical and thus would contribute to and be informed by a kind of historical consciousness among its ancient readers. Prophetic literature contains a number of second-​order reflections on other forms of Judean writing, and so the literature has a certain “meta” character.13 And among the many written forms and thought patterns on which prophetic literature draws and to which it contributes, its strongest links are perhaps with historiography and historical thinking and imagination.14

2.  Ezekiel as Historiographic Text In a recent contribution, Michael Floyd asks whether the writers of prophetic literature were in some sense historiographers.15 He answers, provisionally, in the affirmative. He builds his argument around the idea that prophetic literature developed out of collections of recorded oracles. Evidence from Mari, Nineveh, classical Greece, and elsewhere suggests that scribes maintained records of spoken oracles because, for example, the oracles had proven to be true in some way, and thus might have significance beyond their present moment; or because the oracles’ significance was not immediately

Ezekiel as a Written Text    169 apparent, so the scribes wanted to preserve them for future consultation. Such record keeping involved organizing the oracles into particular collections, and such organization probably provided the basic framework for the emergence of prophetic literature in ancient Judah. Here Floyd builds on the research of Martti Nissinen and Armin Lange, as well as others.16 But he takes the argument further by examining the concept of “list” as a genre. By collecting oracles attributed to a certain prophet and recording them on a single scroll, Judean scribes were in effect making a list. Floyd shows how the act of reading such lists might have aided in the process of transformation from oracle collections to literary texts. Lists, argues Floyd, contribute to a “multidimensional set of ideational relationships” and thus “revel in generous polysemy rather than reductive abstraction.”17 The act of organizing and forming a list opens up new possibilities for understanding—​for finding connections and meanings previously undetected.18 If oracles associated with a certain prophet were indeed gathered together in list-​form, which seems to have been the case in ancient Judah, this list-​formation would enable the ongoing reading, interpretation, and reinterpretation of individual oracles within the list. The inherent polysemy of lists would thus allow Judean scribes, reading and interpreting oracle-​lists in the Persian era, to think on these past oracles in relation to their present historical setting, and then to compose literary works based upon the lists themselves. In Floyd’s words, “[Judah’s scribal elite] redefined prophecy in terms of the records of past revelations rather than oracles currently being spoken, and they reshaped the prophetic tradition by delimiting the prophets and oracles that make up the prophetic canon.”19 Persian-​era scribes—​composers of texts like Ezekiel—​were thus “collaborative” writers “who imaginatively elaborated on the records of a prophet from the past.”20 Their aim was to draw upon these oracles of old, making comparisons with events and concerns of their present day—​thus divining ongoing meaning in the history of Yahweh’s interaction with the people (cf. Sir 38:34b–​39:3).21 This was a kind of historiographical work—​collecting, interpreting, composing, as it were. And it was meant to inform Judean historical interests to some degree. The texts that resulted from this process of transforming oracle-​lists into prophetic literature were meant to be consulted time and again, in order to mine the past and inform present concerns, to address questions of how and why the Judean people became who they were and got to where they were, in relation to their deity Yahweh.22 In Ezekiel, the historiographical tendency of this literary process is most clearly evident in the text’s formulaic chronological statements.23 The text begins with a narrative statement of time, even specifying the day on which the prophet’s visions began (1:1). Unusual for a prophetic text, Ezekiel begins with the waw-​prefix verb ‫ ַוי ְִהי‬wayhî (“It was . . . ”),24 which introduces historiographical prose narratives such as the texts of Joshua, Judges, and Samuel (cf. Jonah). It then specifies the time frame of the subsequent descriptions, giving year and month and day. And it repeats this formula throughout, no less than twelve times, emphasizing that Ezekiel’s visions and prophetic activities occurred at precise moments in the past.25 Moreover, the formulaic statements are mostly chronological, with the exceptions of 29:1 and 29:17, which are out of order

170   Ian D. Wilson in relation to the dates that precede and follow in the text’s chronology.26 These two exceptions notwithstanding, the text begins with Ezekiel seeing his first “visions of God” and receiving “the word of Yahweh” circa 593 bce (1:1–​3); it then accounts for subsequent visions and prophetic actions, mostly in sequence; and it concludes circa 573 bce with visions of a restored temple for Israel (40:1–​3). The text thus builds an easily recognizable narrative framework for its readers. It guides them through an account of Ezekiel’s prophetic tasks over the course of a specific passage of time, from his initial reception of Yahweh’s messages in the early years of exile to an elaborate and utopian envisioning of the temple in Jerusalem, received some twenty years later. With respect to the text’s chronological framing, scholars have long puzzled over its opening statement: ‫שנָה‬ ָ ׁ ‫ ַוי ְִהי ִּב ׁ ְשל ׁ ִֹשים‬wayhî bišlōšîm šānāh (“It was in the thirtieth year”). Its time reference is uncertain.27 Origen, writing in the early third century ce, suggested that it refers to Ezekiel’s age at the time of his inaugural visions, and a number of commentators have followed his lead. The text also refers to Ezekiel as “son of Buzi, the priest” (1:3), and the age of thirty is significant in prescriptions for Israelite priesthood. In the Pentateuch, Numbers 4 notes several times that levitical priestly service should commence at the age of thirty and conclude at age fifty (vv. 3, 23, 30)—​a frame of twenty years, which corresponds with the narrative time frame of Ezekiel’s prophetic activity as outlined in the text.28 To be sure, Ezekiel is presumably a Zadokite, a descendent of Aaron and not a levitical priest, so one should be cautious of taking the comparison between Ezekiel and Numbers 4 too far.29 Nonetheless, the correspondence between time frames is striking. The text, by opening up the possibility for this comparison in its discourse, makes a claim about Ezekiel’s dual role as a prophet and priest, and about the import of this dual role for the text’s readership. It evinces an interest in interpreting Ezekiel’s prophetic activities and character in relation to priestly sociocultural conventions, and in relation to the import of priestly concerns for the community going forward.30 In other words, the text relays information about someone whose role was fundamentally altered by the fact of exile—​a priest who, instead of serving in the Jerusalem temple, imagined its potentials from the confines of Babylon. It tells of a member of the priesthood whose term of service was to receive divine words and visions, to communicate messages from Yahweh to the deity’s people, far from the land of Israel. An important observation to be made here is that the narrative structure of the text is mostly prosaic and chronological. One should also note the text’s presentation of the prophet—​and in this case, priest—​as a particular type of social actor in the past: one who would have contributed to the readership’s sense of group identity, origins, and future trajectories (who are we, how did we get to this point, and where might we be headed?). These are historiographical hallmarks—​prose narrative, chronological sequencing, concerns with social identity and possibilities—​even though they are contained within a text whose primary purpose is to recount divine communication. Ezekiel thus hints at a historiographical function, giving its readers some basic information about the work of a past prophet-​priest, but without fully developing his narrative. Indeed, “biblical writers and editors . . . saw the prophetic books as repositories

Ezekiel as a Written Text    171 for historical information,” writes Megan Bishop Moore,31 though these texts were not “histories” per se. Nevertheless, two aspects would combine to lend the text a “historiographical” tone: the text’s likely compositional process, namely its literary formation from an ordered collection—​i.e., a list—​of written oracles; and its inherent narrative structure, which has much in common with the concerns of history-​writing. The text’s primary function in antiquity was prophetic, of course; but it also spoke of history.

3.  Ezekiel as Analytical Text Another noteworthy feature of Ezekiel, one that links it to history-​writing but also distinguishes it from such writing, is its voice. “It was in the thirtieth year, in the fourth month, on the fifth day of the month, and I was among the exiles by the river Chebar; the heavens opened and I saw visions of God” (1:1). The text opens in the voice of the prophet, telling us when and where he received his visions. It switches abruptly, though, in the following verses, to third-​person deixis. “On the fifth day of the month—​it was the fifth year of the exile of King Jehoiachin—​indeed the word of Yahweh came to Ezekiel son of Buzi, the priest, in the land of the Chaldeans by the river Chebar, and the hand of Yahweh came upon him there” (1:2–​3). And then in v. 4 it again switches back to a first-​ person perspective, the voice of the prophetic figure himself. Throughout the remaining text of Ezekiel, all aspects—​divine proclamations and judgments, descriptions of sign-​ acts, visions, and the like—​are framed with first-​person narrative prose. Statements such as “the word of Yahweh came to me” and “the hand of Yahweh came upon me” occur dozens of times in the text, to introduce accounts of prophetic communication. First-​ person discourse is common enough in prophetic literature (e.g., Isa 6:1; Jer 1:4; Hos 3:1; etc.), but in Ezekiel it is ubiquitous, an outstanding feature of that text in its genre. Historiography is often framed with first-​person discourse. For example, in response to Persian and Phoenician accounts of conflict with the Greeks, Herodotus states as part of his opening remarks, “I prefer to rely on my own knowledge, and to point out who it was in actual fact that first injured the Greeks; then I will proceed with my history, telling the story as I go along of small cities of men no less than of great”—​he then proceeds to recount his version of the story in the third-​person.32 Thucydides similarly offers first-​ person description of his historiographical process, introducing his lengthy narrative work by commenting on his own investigative and compositional techniques.33 Peter Machinist refers to this ancient historiographical feature as the “analytical I.”34 These first-​person statements reflect critical awareness, an effort to discern the quality of source-​material and information in the process of compiling an account of the past. However, texts from the pre-​Hellenistic Near East, including those in the Hebrew Bible, lack first-​person statements that are explicitly analytical. Deuteronomy features what we might call “pseudo-​I” statements, a telling of Moses’s supposed words to the Israelites on the plains of Moab, in the leader’s own voice; and Nehemiah has the “autobiographical I,” a memoir-​like account of efforts to restore Jerusalem decades after the

172   Ian D. Wilson Babylonian conquests.35 But no pre-​Hellenistic text in the Bible has the kind of reflective personal statements about method found in Herodotus or Thucydides. Machinist argues that this lack of the “analytical I,” in the Hebrew Bible and in pre-​ Hellenistic Near Eastern texts generally, has to do with conceptualizations of authority. In the ancient Near East, authority was confined to kings, sociocultural tradition, and divinity.36 Only the gods or rulers—​who were bound by long-​standing traditions and were ultimately subject to the gods—​could chart the course of history. It was, thus, exceedingly rare in that context for a scribe to make his subjective, personal judgments about the past and its import explicit in a written text. And so in Ezekiel the “I” that repeatedly frames the narrative is not of the analytical sort. It is autobiographical (or perhaps pseudo-​autobiographical),37 in that it aims to communicate a personal version of the story, but without necessarily taking a critical stance toward its sources.38 There is no readily apparent analysis of evidence, no questioning the validity of discrepant accounts of the past, in Ezekiel’s first-​person claims. According to the text, the source of information, the one dictating the terms of the narrative, was Israel’s god—​the prophet simply functioned as the deity’s mouthpiece. In this scenario there is, it would seem, no need for critical analysis on the part of the story’s teller. That said, prophetic texts do take analytical stances in relation to the past and its ongoing import, just not in their first-​person discourse. “The ability to discern variety is an inherent quality of history,” writes Alexander Rofé.39 He observes how historiographical texts in the Hebrew Bible represent various periods of past time; from the era of conquest to the time when the judges judged to the days of monarchy, boundaries between periods of Israel’s past are variously delineated, sometimes coinciding with the boundaries of the texts themselves, but sometimes not. Of course, some identifiable frames of time noticeably overlap (e.g., the complicated transition from judgeship to monarchy).40 But while historiographical texts tend to focus on past periodization and its various and even contradictory understandings, prophetic literature tends to highlight variety in possible historical outcomes. According to Rofé, “prophecy, being bent toward the future, towards the new things the Lord is going to do, developed a dynamic concept of history and nurtured a strong historical intuition.”41 Prophetic texts indeed represent a “dynamic concept of history,” but they do so through their various speculations about the future rather than through any explicit analysis of the past. In other words, their analytical voice is to be found in how they present possible outcomes for the past, not in discourse about possibilities within that past. The prophetic voice thus maintained divine authority over history, while it also left room for reflective analysis of historical meanings and trajectories in due time.42 Ezekiel contains telling examples of such analytical thought couched in written prophetic discourse. Consider, for example, its various images of future Davidic rule. As I shall now discuss, the text presents at least two such images (34:23–​24; 37:24–​25); furthermore, within its extensive vision of the temple, in ­chapters 40–​48, the text makes repeated reference to an anonymous future ruler who has connections to Davidic kingship, but who is not necessarily a king.43

Ezekiel as a Written Text    173 First, in 34:23–​24, David appears as the “one shepherd,” as Yahweh’s chosen servant who will be ‫ ָנ ִׂשיא‬nāśîˀ “ruler” over the people. It seems, however, that this rule will be rather passive. The text repeatedly emphasizes, via Yahweh’s voice, that the deity is the one who will do all the work with regard to the people: “I will gather them” (34:13); “I myself will shepherd them, and I myself will have them lie down” (34:15); “the lost I will seek, and the stray I will bring back” (34:16), and so on. Ezekiel 34:10–​22, the passage that leads up to Yahweh’s announcement of David’s role as shepherd, contains no less than twenty-​one first-​person finite verbs, each one in reference to Yahweh’s future rescuing and shepherding of Israel—​not David’s.44 In this case, David’s rule of Israel will return, but there will be little for him to actually do.45 David appears again in 37:24–​25, in similar fashion but with some important differences. Here, again, he is Yahweh’s “one shepherd” who will serve as ‫ ָנ ִׂשיא‬, despite the fact that Yahweh is the one to do all the real work. But here David is also called ‫ מֶ ל ְֶך‬meleḵ “king”; and the text notes that his rule will last ‫ לְ עוֹלָם‬ləˁôlām “forever”—​ coinciding with ‫ ְּב ִרית עוֹלָם‬bərîṯ ˁôlām “an eternal covenant” that will ensure Yahweh’s presence among the people “forever” (vv. 26–​28). Such talk of eternal covenants and of David’s ruling forever has thematic and linguistic links with Judean historiography and other prophetic texts (e.g., 2 Sam 7:8–​ 16; 23:5; Isa 55:3). It evinces an overarching concern in Judean literature about divine promises made to the Davidic line—​their potential meanings and import for the Judean community in its post-​monarchic setting.46 Readers of Ezekiel 34 and 37 would have thought that Davidic rule will indeed return and perhaps even last in perpetuity.47 One could convincingly argue, however, that this view of David was something of a minority report or second opinion within the larger context of Ezekiel.48 It is unclear exactly how the text, on the whole, envisions this new David.49 In the book’s lengthy concluding vision, Davidic rule plays a more subtle role. Chapters 40–​48 imagine the Jerusalem temple’s architecture, its altar and the offerings that will take place there, as well as its administrative personnel—​and all this in fairly extensive detail. The vision also mentions, along with the frequently referenced Zadokite priesthood (e.g., 40:46; 43:19; 44:15; 48:11), an anonymous ‫ ָנ ִׂשיא‬. This ruler will have special access to the sanctuary’s outer gate (44:1–​3). He will inherit a certain portion of land in the new Jerusalem (45:7; 48:21–​22). He is, along with his descendants, admonished to deal justly with the people—​not to act like his predecessors (45:8–​9; cf. 46:16–​18). He will contribute grain, oil, animals, and so on, for the various cultic offerings (45:13–​17, 22). And he will observe the priests as they work (ch. 46). At first glance, these certainly look like kingly rights and duties. However, the vision uses the title ‫ ָנ ִׂשיא‬and not ‫מֶ ל ְֶך‬. The ‫ ָנ ִׂשיא‬of ­chapters 40–​48 connotes a kingly figure to some extent, yet he is clearly not a ‫מֶ ל ְֶך‬. This vision mentions Israel’s past kings with considerable disdain—​and in doing so, it emphasizes that in the new Jerusalem, Yahweh will have a throne that lasts “forever” (43:7–​9). Compare 20:33, which employs the verb ‫ מלך‬m-​l-​k in the qal stem: “As I live, says Lord Yahweh, surely with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, and with wrath poured out, I will be king over you” (after NRSV).

174   Ian D. Wilson Elsewhere in Ezekiel, too, the title ‫ ָנ ִׂשיא‬seems to indicate something less than a ‫מֶ ל ְֶך‬ proper. In 7:27 the two titles are distinguished from each other (cf. 32:29); and on numerous occasions the rulers of Israel, those who sat on the throne in Jerusalem and led the people to disaster, are labelled as ‫( ָנ ִׂשיא‬e.g., 12:10; 19:1; 21:12; etc.)—​in contradistinction with the Babylonian ‫מֶ ל ְֶך‬, for example, who captures Jerusalem and its inferior ruler (e.g., 19:9; 21:24; etc.). In much of the text of Ezekiel, then, ‫ ָנ ִׂשיא‬connotes a lesser ruler, even a vassal of the Great King, just as the kings of Judah were under the imperial rule of Assyria and Babylon.50 Likewise in Judean discourse, broadly speaking, the word ‫ָנ ִׂשיא‬ does not typically indicate kingship or monarchy; in Numbers, for example, where the word most frequently appears, it refers specifically to ancestral tribal leaders in Israel’s pre-​monarchic past. In contrast, in Ezekiel 34 and 37, David is called a ‫ ָנ ִׂשיא‬. David, of course, is known as a ‫ מֶ ל ְֶך‬throughout the Judean literature and functions as Israel’s prototypical human king, to which all other Israelite and Judahite kings are compared. There is no king more kingly than David. So there is perforce an implicit connection between the term ‫ ָנ ִׂשיא‬and kingship in these passages. And Ezekiel 37 makes the connection explicit by referring to David as both ‫ ָנ ִׂשיא‬and ‫מֶ ל ְֶך‬. So at least in Ezekiel’s David passages, the title ‫ ָנ ִׂשיא‬does have a direct link with kingship—​thus muddling the connotation of the title throughout the book. What type of ruler, then, is this David supposed to be? How much or how little power does he have under King (‫ )מֶ ל ְֶך‬Yahweh? Moreover, what is the relationship between the ‫ָנ ִׂשיא‬ envisioned in c­ hapters 40–​48 and the David of c­ hapters 34 and 37? If they are one and the same, then it appears that this new David will be less involved than the David—​ and Davidic kingship—​remembered in Samuel, Kings, Chronicles, and elsewhere. In the historiographical books, for example, David and Solomon and Josiah offer sacrifices and lead ceremonies; this ruler in Ezekiel simply watches the proceedings. The ‫ ָנ ִׂשיא‬in Ezekiel 40–​48 is a bystander, an icon of kingly power without much power himself; he devotes portions of his wealth to the cult but does little else. The text of Ezekiel is conflicted about David and his dynasty, unsure what to do with him and his legacy. He seems either to have a prominent position in Judah’s political future, as the passages in c­ hapters 34 and 37 would indicate, or to have none at all, as in ­chapters 40–​48. The ‫ ָנ ִׂשיא‬of Ezekiel 40–​48 might be the David of 34:24 and 37:25, but he might not be.51 Once again, the text of Ezekiel presents a horizon of images ready to be juxtaposed, overlaid one upon the other, or even blurred together by its readers. There is historical analysis to be found here, or at least the questions that lead to such analysis: what was the import of Davidic kingship in relation to the textual community’s present state, in relation to Yahweh’s ongoing power to rule the people, and in relation to the power of others, both within and outside Judean sociocultural contexts? Ezekiel’s historical-​analytical tendencies may not be stated outright in its first-​person discourse, as one finds in the texts of Herodotus and Thucydides, but the text reflects such interests nonetheless. The text has diverse stories to tell, an array of interrelated images to reveal to its readership; but in the end, it never overtly questions the validity or trustworthiness

Ezekiel as a Written Text    175 of the various narrative possibilities that it presents for consideration, on account of its proclaimed ultimate source and voice: the deity Yahweh.

4.  Discussion and Conclusions: Ezekiel as Archive What, then, do we make of Ezekiel as a written text, with its apparent historiographical tendencies along with its preference not to question the past—​and thus the past’s divine author—​in and of itself? To review and conclude, in this final section, I would like to synthesize the ideas presented above, to work toward a heuristic concept for thinking about Ezekiel as an ancient literary artifact. In response to my argument that Ezekiel has important historiographical tendencies, one might protest that, if this text was meant to be some kind of history or (pseudo-​)autobiography of the prophet Ezekiel, it is rather thin on narrative details about the person himself. It sets the scene in Babylon, telling us a bit about his role as a priest and how Yahweh began communicating with him (1:1–​3), occasionally recounts his dealings with the people’s elders (e.g., 20:1), and even tells of his wife’s death (24:18). But in the end readers learn very little about Ezekiel as a person or about his and his community’s time in Babylon. For this reason, I think we should emphasize the functional process of the text’s formation in relation to historiography, rather than its supposed connection with any particular ancient genre. Although Ezekiel is not historiography per se—​the text shares features with ancient prophetic records, (pseudo-​)autobiographies, as well as historiographies—​the process by which it came about was, in a sense, historiographical. This is why the text tends toward the historiographical. Its composition involved the transformation of an organized collection of written oracles attributed to a certain personage into a chronologically arranged narrative (thin though it may be) about that personage and his divinely commissioned work in the past. The text aims to tell a story about a past figure and his role as a priest and divine messenger, as one whose work had informed, and would continue to inform, the intended readership’s identity vis-​à-​vis their deity. Historiography, in its recollection and preservation of narratives about the past and in its attempts to answer questions about collective identities and social formations, takes similar aims. Furthermore, it comes together in similar fashion, through the (re)organizing and representing of certain data sets—​facts about the past deemed relevant (by the writer in his or her context) for the questions at hand. Notable in Ezekiel’s historiographical composition is its (mostly) meticulous documentation and organization of chronology. The text, in the end, may not relay much of a story about its subject—​with regard to characterization, plot development, and so on—​but it does provide a solid structure for one. And it is the text’s historiographical structure—​which serves as a container, so to speak, for its reports of divine speeches

176   Ian D. Wilson and visions in the past—​that I suggest provides a productive conceptual framework for thinking about Ezekiel as a text in relation to its readership, especially in antiquity. Many scholars have commented upon the importance of those chronological statements as structuring devices; Tyler Mayfield, for example, whose work I already noted above, has recently argued that they are the key structural element for the entire text.52 The text reads like a chronologically organized catalogue of Ezekiel’s prophetic activity, yet it stops short of providing a fully developed narrative account of it. To draw again upon Floyd’s list-​making thesis concerning prophetic literature,53 it is as if written oracles attributed to a priest named Ezekiel were collected and ordered and given a narrative framework—​even a typically prosaic narrative beginning (1:1 ‫​—) ַוי ְִהי‬but the person(s) responsible for the text hesitated to build upon that framework, to form a history of the prophet per se. Instead, the text would be left to stand as an organized resource for thinking about the past, and about divine communication in and through that past. In this way, it would function like an archive of Ezekiel’s speeches and visions, at the ready to inform interest in the readership’s past—​including its interrelationship with Yahweh’s knowledge and knowledge of Yahweh, and all its ongoing and possible outcomes. Our modern concept of the “archive” is of course anachronistic in relation to the ancient Levant. The Judeans did not have archives such as those that national museums or state governments or local interest groups have today.54 To be sure, Judeans had libraries or collections of texts—​ranging from mundane economic records to arcane literary works—​held in individual locales, what we might call “textual deposits”;55 but it is debatable whether these were anything like the Greek ἀρχεῖον, the home and record of official legal power, or like any of the other official record houses in the ancient world. In any case, the concept of archive, as it has been theorized in recent years, can be productive for thinking about Ezekiel as a written text, as a locus of power and source of recorded and ordered information, one that informs possible futures by accounting for the past. Jacques Derrida, via his deconstructive readings of Sigmund Freud, argues that the archive is at once a place where authority is held and from whence it comes; the archive recalls order and imposes it, conserves power and institutes it.56 In other words, archives organize and preserve what has come before, but they do so with the result of fostering possibility. One of Freud’s most famous texts, notices Derrida, hints at this archival function: in Civilization and Its Discontents, the psychoanalyst observes that while it seems he is saying nothing new, he is in fact reassessing what has come before—​in order to re-​chart the course of analytic theory and its doctrine of the drives.57 Freud has gone to his own archive, so to speak, for a fresh perspective. There are several issues here that can inform our reading of Ezekiel as a written text. Like an archive, the prophetic text of Ezekiel provided for its readers a catalogued record, in this case a chronologically organized record of divinely inspired speeches, visions, and actions of the priest Ezekiel in the land of Babylon. Like an archive, the text played a role in a kind of historiographical process, but it was not the end product of any such process. The text was meant to be read, reread, and continuously consulted

Ezekiel as a Written Text    177 (researched, so to speak) for fresh insights concerning the past’s role in shaping things to come (cf. Hos 14:10; Sir 38:34b–​39:3). The question of what to do with David and his legacy, as outlined above, is a prime example in Ezekiel (as it is in other prophetic texts).58 As the archive contributes to historical thought and historiographical pursuits in our day, so the text of Ezekiel would contribute to knowledge of the past, and the continual reshaping and application of such knowledge, in its day. Its job, however, was not to offer a critical assessment of the past’s various conflicting narrative possibilities, a task that historians frequently call their own. Its purpose was simply to represent and make apparent those possibilities inherent in past time, as they were revealed through Yahweh’s messages to the people, and as they might have ongoing import for those people.59 Within Ezekiel, Yahweh’s ultimate rule and authority over Israel (and the world) are never questioned, of course. Even so, problematic aspects of the people’s past existence in relation to Yahweh—​monarchy, exile, temple, priesthood, and so on—​are repeatedly laid bare, with a variety of possible future outcomes in view. Like an archive, then, Ezekiel would preserve Israel’s past and its variety—​remembering its future possibilities.

Notes 1. Several colleagues read drafts of this work and offered helpful feedback as it developed. My thanks go to Brandon Alakas, Andrea Korda, and Joseph Wiebe—​my writing group at Augustana—​and to Michael Floyd and Jacqueline Vayntrub for their incisive comments and questions, all of which shaped the final product in one way or another. That said, any missteps in the work are entirely my own. 2. Brian Stock, working on Medieval Christian literature and its historical contexts, makes the important point that the division between “oral” and “written” culture has never been definite; the oral/​written dichotomy, often employed in scholarship, is generally oversimplified or even false; Listening for the Text: On the Uses of the Past (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1990), 22–​24, 140–​158. See also F. W. Dobbs-​Allsopp, On Biblical Poetry (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015), 234–​235; and Jacqueline Vayntrub, “Proverbs and the Limits of Poetry,” PhD diss., University of Chicago, 2015, 7–​10; with additional references in each. Textuality has both oral and written functions, which are often closely related in societies organized around a textual tradition. In the Medieval era, for instance, when literacy rates were particularly low in European societies, many Christians nonetheless had a strong sense for the written word, the idea of which informed self-​ consciousness as well as group identity and social relations; Stock, Listening for the Text, 145–​146. The same may be argued for societies in the ancient Levant, including Judah in its early Second Temple era, where literacy rates were low but where there existed a small group of intellectual elites, as it were, which produced and maintained literary traditions that likely informed and reinforced a broader group identity (cf. Ian D. Wilson, Kingship and Memory in Ancient Judah [New York: Oxford University Press, 2017], 1–​17). On the complex interrelationship between orality and writing in the context of ancient Israelite and Judean literary culture, see, e.g., Susan Niditch, Oral World and Written Word: Ancient Israelite Literature (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1996); William M. Schniedewind, How the Bible Became a Book (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004); David M.

178   Ian D. Wilson Carr, Writing on the Tablet of the Heart: Origins of Scripture and Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005); Karel van der Toorn, Scribal Culture and the Making of the Hebrew Bible (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007); and Seth Sanders, The Invention of Hebrew (Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press, 2009); as well as studies that are concerned with related issues: e.g., Dobbs-​Allsopp, Biblical Poetry, 233–​325; Vayntrub, “Limits of Poetry”; and Daniel D. Pioske, Memory in a Time of Prose: Studies in Hebrew Scribalism, Epistemology, and the Biblical Past (New York: Oxford University Press, 2018). 3. Little ancient manuscript evidence for the text of Ezekiel exists today. From Qumran, we have less than four hundred words of text spread across only six fragmentary manuscripts, conveniently collected in Eugene C. Ulrich, ed., The Biblical Qumran Scrolls: Transcriptions and Textual Variants (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 2:584–​89. Beyond that, portions survive from a second-​ or third-​century-​ce Greek manuscript (Papyrus 967; or p967, for short), which contains versions of Ezekiel, Daniel, Bel and the Dragon, and Esther. The portions of p967 that survive imply that the text of Ezekiel circulated in “variant literary editions,” well into late antiquity, as did the texts of other biblical books; see Eugene C. Ulrich, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Origins of the Bible (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1999), 8–​12. For an insightful study of p967 and Ezekiel, see Ingrid E. Lilly, Two Books of Ezekiel: Papyrus 967 and the Masoretic Text as Variant Literary Traditions (Vetus Testamentum Supplements 150; Leiden: Brill, 2012), which takes three different, but ultimately synthetic, approaches to the papyrus—​analyzing it as a witness to the Greek textual tradition, as a variant of the Hebrew textual tradition, and as a historical codex. 4. Martti Nissinen, Prophets and Prophecy in the Ancient Near East (SBL Writings from the Ancient World 12; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature Press, 2003); Martti Nissinen, Ancient Prophecy: Near Eastern, Biblical, and Greek Perspectives (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018). 5. Ehud Ben Zvi, “The Prophetic Book: A Key Form of Prophetic Literature,” in The Changing Face of Form Criticism in for the Twenty-​First Century, ed. Marvin Sweeney and Ehud Ben Zvi (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2003), 276–​297; Ehud Ben Zvi, “The Concept of Prophetic Books and Its Historical Setting,” in The Production of Prophecy: Constructing Prophecy and Prophets in Yehud, ed. Diana V. Edelman and Ehud Ben Zvi (London: Equinox, 2009), 73–​95; and Ronald L. Troxel, Prophetic Literature: From Oracles to Books (Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 2012), 1–​18. This generic category is often referred to as the “prophetic book.” Of course, the concept of “book” is anachronistic when applied to ancient Judean literature. Eva Mroczek has thus argued that we retool the conceptual metaphors that we use to think about such literature and its textuality; The Literary Imagination in Jewish Antiquity (New York: Oxford University Press, 2016). Working primarily with collections of psalms and the text of Ben Sira, and emphasizing their fluidity throughout the Second Temple era, she demonstrates how digital textuality, for example, with its seeming unboundedness, is a more appropriate conceptual category than “book” for these particular texts (recognizing, though, that “digital” is thoroughly anachronistic too). She encourages scholars to think along the lines of “textual clusters, mosaics of fragments, and expanding archives” (15). On account of Mroczek’s challenge, I have avoided the label “book” in this particular essay. But I am not prepared to abandon it entirely. As Ron Hendel argues, a single book may exist in various instantiations, so in the case of Genesis, Deuteronomy, Isaiah, or even Ezekiel—​to cite a few examples that seem to have been relatively stable texts in the Second Temple era, in terms of their discursive contents—​“book” might still carry some explanatory weight in discussions of ancient Judah’s literary culture; “What Is

Ezekiel as a Written Text    179 a Biblical Book?” in From Author to Copyist: Essays on the Composition, Redaction, and Transmission of the Hebrew Bible in Honor of Zipi Talshir, ed. Cana Werman (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2015), 283–​302. 6. On the emergence and production of this kind of literature in this era, see, e.g., the contributions of Michael H. Floyd, “The Production of Prophetic Books in the Early Second Temple Period,” in Prophets, Prophecy, and Prophetic Texts in Second Temple Judaism, ed. Michael H. Floyd and Robert D. Haak (Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 427; New York: T&T Clark, 2006), 276–​297; and Diana V. Edelman, “From Prophets to Prophetic Books: The Fixing of the Divine Word,” in The Production of Prophecy: Constructing Prophecy and Prophets in Yehud, ed. Diana V. Edelman and Ehud Ben Zvi (London: Equinox, 2009), 29–​54. 7. Wilson, Kingship and Memory, 182–​222. 8. Ben Zvi, “Concept of Prophetic Books,” 76–​77. 9. Wilson, Kingship and Memory. 10. Cf. Alexander Rofé, “Properties of Biblical Historiography and Historical Thought,” Vetus Testamentum 66 (2016): 437–​440, who argues that Joshua, Judges, Samuel, and Kings consist of, for the most part, what he calls “kerygmatic historiography,” that is, history-​writing shaped by prophetic figures and their theological and moral concerns. 11. On utilizing prophetic literature to refine historical knowledge of ancient Israel or Judah, see, e.g., Megan Bishop Moore and Brad E. Kelle, eds., Israel’s Prophets and Israel’s Past: Essays on the Relationship of Prophetic Texts and Israelite History in Honor of John H. Hayes (Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 446; New York: T&T Clark, 2006), which is devoted entirely to this issue (a central focus of Hayes’s career), and which includes insightful historical examinations of Ezekiel. Yet few scholars have thought about prophetic texts as historiographical works themselves, in their ancient contexts. 12. Megan Bishop Moore, “Writing Israel’s History Using the Prophetic Books,” in Moore and Kelle, Israel’s Prophets and Israel’s Past, 23–​36. 13. Carol Meyers, “Foreign Places, Future World: Toponyms in the Eschatology of Zechariah 9,” Eretz Israel 14 (1993): 164–​172; Carol Meyers and Eric Meyers, “The Future Fortunes of the House of David: The Evidence of Second Zechariah,” in Fortunate the Eyes that See: Essays in Honor of David Noel Freedman, ed. Astrid B. Beck (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), 207–​222; Ehud Ben Zvi, Signs of Jonah: Reading and Rereading in Ancient Yehud (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 367; London: Sheffield Academic, 2003), 80–​98; James R. Linville, “Myth of the Exilic Return: Myth Theory and the Exile as an Eternal Reality in the Prophets,” in The Concept of Exile in Ancient Israel and its Historical Contexts, ed. Ehud Ben Zvi and Christoph Levin (Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 404; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2010), 295–​308; James R. Linville, “Mythoprophetics: Some Thoughts,” in History, Memory, Hebrew Scriptures: A Festschrift for Ehud Ben Zvi, ed. Ian D. Wilson and Diana V. Edelman (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2015), 403–​415; and Wilson, Kingship and Memory, 223–​234. 14. Cf. Philip R. Davies, “The Audiences of Prophetic Scrolls: Some Suggestions,” in Prophets and Paradigms: Essays in Honor of Gene M. Tucker, ed. Stephen Breck Reid (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 229; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1996), 48–​62; and Michael H. Floyd, “New Form Criticism and Beyond: The Historicity of Prophetic Literature Revisited,” in The Book of the Twelve and the New Form Criticism, ed. Mark J. Boda, Michael H. Floyd, and Colin M. Toffelmire (Ancient Near East Monographs 10; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature Press, 2015), 17–​36.

180   Ian D. Wilson 15. Floyd, “New Form Criticism,” 18. 16. Martti Nissinen, “How Prophecy Became Literature,” Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 19 (2005): 153–​172; and Armin Lange, “Literary Prophecy and Oracle Collection: A Comparison between Judah and Greece in Persian Times,” in Floyd and Haak, Prophetic Texts, 248–​275. 17. Floyd, “New Form Criticism,” 28. 18. Jacqueline Vayntrub, “Tyre’s Glory and Demise: Totalizing Description in Ezekiel 27,” CBQ 82, no. 2 (2020): 214–​236. 19. Floyd, “New Form Criticism,” 30. 20. Floyd, “New Form Criticism,” 34. Cf. Walther Eichrodt, Ezekiel: A Commentary (Old Testament Library; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1970), 18–​22. 21. Floyd, “New Form Criticism,” 28–​29. See also Sir 24:30–​34, in which the seeker and teacher of wisdom compares himself to a canal watering a garden; and 33:16–​19, in which he compares himself to a grape-​picker preparing the vintage. Based on these metaphors, Mroczek argues that ancient Jewish writers, named and otherwise, saw themselves as contributing to fluid and open traditions: they were channels funneling water from its source to its ultimate destination; or harvesters reaping the fruits another had sown, while crafting the wine that others would drink; The Literary Imagination, 86–​113. 22. Cf. Rofé, “Biblical Historiography,” who sketches possibilities for historiographical processes and their underlying modes of historical thought in ancient Israel and Judah. Rofé does not examine prophetic texts like Ezekiel as literary works, qua historiography and historical thinking. 23. On Ezekiel’s chronological formula, with detailed discussions of each chronological statement, see Tyler D. Mayfield, Literary Structure and Setting in Ezekiel (Forschungen zum Alten Testament 2/​43; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 84–​117. See also Moshe Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20 (Anchor Bible 22; New York: Doubleday, 1983), 7–​17, for comments on the dates and their broader historical context. 24. Unless noted otherwise, all translations are my own. 25. See 8:1; 20:1; 24:1; 26:1; 29:1; 29:17; 30:20; 31:1; 32:17; 33:21; and 40:1. 26. Mayfield discusses the problem and interpretive options; Literary Structure and Setting, 90–​91, 110–​111. I am inclined to agree with Moshe Greenberg, who, following other commentators, argues that the material concerning Egypt was arranged en bloc because of Egypt’s political status, despite the chronological difficulties that such an arrangement caused; Ezekiel 21–​37 (Anchor Bible 22A; New York: Doubleday, 1997), 612–​613. 27. Walther Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 1–​24 (Hermeneia; Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1979), 113–​114; Mayfield, Literary Structure and Setting, 91–​92. 28. Eichrodt, Ezekiel, 52; Margaret S. Odell, “You Are What You Eat: Ezekiel and the Scroll,” Journal of Biblical Literature 117, no. 2 (1998): 229–​248; and Marvin A. Sweeney, Reading Ezekiel: A Literary and Theological Commentary (Macon: Smyth & Helwys, 2013), 7–​ 8, 25–​26. 29. On Ezekiel and the Zadokite priesthood, about which our historical knowledge is limited, see Alice W. Hunt, “Ezekiel Spinning the Wheels of History,” in Moore and Kelle, Israel’s Prophets and Israel’s Past, 280–​290. 30. Cf. Marvin A. Sweeney, “Ezekiel: Zadokite Priest and Visionary Prophet of the Exile,” in Form and Intertextuality in Prophetic and Apocalyptic Literature (Forschungen zum Alten Testament 45; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 125–​143; Menahem Haran, “Ezekiel, P, and

Ezekiel as a Written Text    181 the Priestly School,” Vetus Testamentum 58 (2008): 211–​218; and Mark Leuchter, The Levites and the Boundaries of Israelite Identity (New York: Oxford University Press, 2017), 16–​17. 31. Moore, “Writing Israel’s History,” 24. 32. Herodotus, Histories 1.5; trans. Aubrey de Sélincourt. 33. Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian War 1.1, 20–​23. 34. Peter Machinist, “The Voice of the Historian in Ancient Near Eastern and Mediterranean World,” Interpretation 57 (2003): 117–​137. 35. Machinist, “Voice,” 125–​127. 36. Machinist, “Voice,” 135–​137. 37. The question of Ezekiel’s authorship is moot, although some scholars do argue that the prophet himself wrote much of the text; e.g., Sweeney, Reading Ezekiel, 3–​4; Andrew Mein, “Ezekiel: Structure, Themes, and Contested Issues,” in The Oxford Handbook of the Prophets, ed. Carolyn J. Sharp (New York: Oxford University Press, 2016), 192–​193. In any case, the identity of Ezekiel’s author(s) would have no effect on my argument concerning the text’s nature as writing. 38. Cf. Margaret S. Odell, Ezekiel (S&H Bible Commentary; Macon: Smyth & Helwys, 2005), 14–​15. 39. Rofé, “Biblical Historiography,” 441; cf. Allan Megill, Historical Knowledge, Historical Error: A Contemporary Guide to Practice (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007), 207. 40. Cf. Wilson, Kingship and Memory, 77–​130. 41. Rofé, “Biblical Historiography,” 445; cf. Yosef H. Yerushalmi, Zakhor: Jewish History and Jewish Memory (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1982), 15. 42. Cf. Ian D. Wilson, “Yahweh’s Consciousness: Isaiah 40–​48 and Ancient Judean Historical Thought,” Vetus Testamentum 66 (2016): 646–​661. 43. On these texts, and references to additional scholarship, see Wilson, Kingship and Memory, 211–​215. 44. Cf. Paul M. Joyce, “King and Messiah in Ezekiel,” in King and Messiah in Israel and the Ancient Near East: Proceedings of the Oxford Old Testament Seminar, ed. John Day (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 270; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1998), 323–​337, here 334–​335; and Paul M. Joyce, Ezekiel: A Commentary (Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 482; New York: T&T Clark, 2007), 197–​198. 45. Compare this imagery with the strikingly similar imagery of Jer 23:1–​8. In Jeremiah, however, David appears to play a much more active role. For further comments on the interrelationship of these texts, see Anja Klein, Schriftauslegung im Ezechielbuch: Redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zu Ez 34–​39 (Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 391; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2008), 42–​59. 46. Cf. Wilson, Kingship and Memory, 131–​181. 47. Cf. Daniel I. Block, The Book of Ezekiel: Chapters 25–​48 (New International Commentary on the Old Testament; Grand Rapids,: Eerdmans, 1998), 297–​301. 48. Further, Ezekiel itself was perhaps a minority report in the context of the early Second Temple, a text that “occupied a marginal place in the comprehensive cultural horizon of late Persian and early Hellenistic Yehud”; Philippe Guillaume, “The Chronological Limits of Reshaping Social Memory in the Presence of Written Sources: The Case of Ezekiel in Late Persian and Early Hellenistic Yehud,” in Wilson and Edelman, History, Memory, Hebrew Scriptures, 192. 49. Cf. Joyce, “King and Messiah,” 330–​332; Christophe Nihan, “The nāśȋʾ and the Future of Royalty in Ezekiel,” in Wilson and Edelman, History, Memory, Hebrew Scriptures, 229–​246.

182   Ian D. Wilson 50. Joyce “King and Messiah,” 336; Nihan, “The nāśȋʾ and the Future of Royalty”; cf. Madhavi Nevader, “Picking Up the Pieces of the Little Prince: Refractions of Neo-​ Babylonian Kingship Ideology in Ezekiel 40–48?” in Exile and Return: The Babylonian Context, ed. Jonathan Stökl and Caroline Waerzeggers (Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 478; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2015), 268–​291. 51. This has led Madhavi Nevader, for example, to argue that the references to David in Ezekiel—​“ill at ease” in their context—​are insertions meant to bring the book closer in line with the other major prophetic works Isaiah and Jeremiah; “Inserting David: Royal Dynamics in Ezekiel 34 and 37,” paper presented at the Society of Biblical Literature International Meeting, Vienna, Austria, 2014. Cf. Greenberg, who states that 34:17–​31 was composed as a supplement to 34:2–​16, with Jeremiah serving as source material for the composition; Ezekiel 21–​37, 707–​709. 52. Mayfield, Literary Structure and Setting, 84–​117. 53. Floyd, “New Form Criticism.” 54. On the archive in our contemporary era, see, e.g., Terry Cook, “What is Past is Prologue: A History of Archival Ideas Since 1898, and the Future Paradigm Shift,” Archivaria 43 (1997): 17–​63; Terry Cook, “Evidence, Memory, Identity, and Community: Four Shifting Archival Paradigms,” Archival Science 13 (2013): 95–​120. 55. Reinhard G. Kratz, Historical and Biblical Israel: The History, Tradition, and Archives of Israel and Judah (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 135; cf. Jacqueline S. Du Toit, Textual Memory: Archives, Libraries and the Hebrew Bible (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2011). 56. Jacques Derrida, Archive Fever: A Freudian Impression (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996), 1–​3, 7–​8. 57. Cf. Sigmund Freud, Civilization and Its Discontents (Great Ideas 19; New York: Penguin, 2004 [1930]), 68. 58. Wilson, Kingship and Memory, 198–​216. 59. Ezekiel, it should be noted, adds a somewhat ironic twist to its apparent historiographical tendencies and archival function, a twist that reinforces my contention that the concept of archive is a productive heuristic for thinking about the text and its reception among a reading community. Not only does the text act like a kind of archive, a means for containing the past as a resource for the community’s future; in Ezekiel, the prophet himself—​his body—​serves as a container or home for Yahweh’s written communication (2:8–​3:3). The corporeal prophet is thus, in the text, represented as something like an ἀρχεῖον. On the body in Ezekiel, see Rhiannon Graybill, Are We Not Men? Unstable Masculinity in the Hebrew Prophets (New York: Oxford University Press, 2016), 97–​120; and Vayntrub, “Tyre’s Glory and Demise.”

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Ezekiel as a Written Text    183 Block, Daniel I. The Book of Ezekiel: Chapters 25–​48. New International Commentary on the Old Testament. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998. Carr, David M. Writing on the Tablet of the Heart: Origins of Scripture and Literature. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005. Cook, Terry. “What is Past is Prologue: A History of Archival Ideas Since 1898, and the Future Paradigm Shift.” Archivaria 43 (1997): 17–​63. Cook, Terry. “Evidence, Memory, Identity, and Community: Four Shifting Archival Paradigms.” Archival Science 13 (2013): 95–​120. Davies, Philip R. “The Audiences of Prophetic Scrolls: Some Suggestions.” In Prophets and Paradigms: Essays in Honor of Gene M. Tucker, edited by Stephen Breck Reid, 48–​62. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 229. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1996. Derrida, Jacques. Archive Fever: A Freudian Impression, translated by Eric Prenowitz. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996. Dobbs-​Allsopp, Frederick W. On Biblical Poetry. New York: Oxford University Press, 2015. Du Toit, Jacqueline S. Textual Memory: Archives, Libraries and the Hebrew Bible. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2011. Edelman, Diana V. “From Prophets to Prophetic Books: The Fixing of the Divine Word.” In Edelman and Ben Zvi, Production of Prophecy, 29–​54. Edelman, Diana V., and Ehud Ben Zvi, eds. The Production of Prophecy: Constructing Prophecy and Prophets in Yehud. London: Equinox, 2009. Eichrodt, Walther. Ezekiel: A Commentary, translated by Cosslett Quin. Old Testament Library. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1970. Floyd, Michael H. “New Form Criticism and Beyond: The Historicity of Prophetic Literature Revisited.” In The Book of the Twelve and the New Form Criticism, edited by Mark J. Boda, Michael H. Floyd, and Colin M. Toffelmire, 17–​36. Ancient Near East Monographs 10. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature Press, 2015. Floyd, Michael H. “The Production of Prophetic Books in the Early Second Temple Period.” In Floyd and Haak, Prophetic Texts, 276–​297. Floyd, Michael H., and Robert D. Haak, eds. Prophets, Prophecy, and Prophetic Texts in Second Temple Judaism. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 427. New York: T&T Clark, 2006. Freud, Sigmund. Civilization and Its Discontents, translated by David McLintock. New York: Penguin Books, 2004. Graybill, Rhiannon. Are We Not Men? Unstable Masculinity in the Hebrew Prophets. New York: Oxford University Press, 2016. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 1–​20. Anchor Bible 22. New York: Doubleday, 1983. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 21–​37. Anchor Bible 22A. New York: Doubleday, 1997. Guillaume, Philippe. “The Chronological Limits of Reshaping Social Memory in the Presence of Written Sources: The Case of Ezekiel in Late Persian and Early Hellenistic Yehud.” In Wilson and Edelman, History, Memory, Hebrew Scriptures, 187–​196. Haran, Menahem. “Ezekiel, P, and the Priestly School.” Vetus Testamentum 58 (2008): 211–​218. Hendel, Ronald. “What is a Biblical Book?” In From Author to Copyist: Essays on the Composition, Redaction, and Transmission of the Hebrew Bible in Honor of Zipi Talshir, edited by Cana Werman, 283–​302. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2015. Hunt, Alice W. “Ezekiel Spinning the Wheels of History.” In Moore and Kelle, Israel’s Prophets and Israel’s Past, 280–​290.

184   Ian D. Wilson Joyce, Paul M. Ezekiel: A Commentary. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 482. New York: T&T Clark, 2007. Joyce, Paul M. “King and Messiah in Ezekiel.” In King and Messiah in Israel and the Ancient Near East: Proceedings of the Oxford Old Testament Seminar, edited by John Day, 323–​337. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 270. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998. Klein, Anja. Schriftauslegung im Ezechielbuch: Redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zu Ez 34-​39. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 391. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2008. Kratz, Reinhard G. Historical and Biblical Israel: The History, Tradition, and Archives of Israel and Judah, translated by Paul Michael Kurtz. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015. Lange, Armin. “Literary Prophecy and Oracle Collection: A Comparison between Judah and Greece in Persian Times.” In Floyd and Haak, Prophetic Texts, 248–​275. Leuchter, Mark. The Levites and the Boundaries of Israelite Identity. New York: Oxford University Press, 2017. Lilly, Ingrid E. Two Books of Ezekiel: Papyrus 967 and the Masoretic Text as Variant Literary Editions. Vetus Testamentum Supplements 150. Leiden: Brill, 2012. Linville, James R. “Myth of the Exilic Return: Myth Theory and the Exile as an Eternal Reality in the Prophets.” In The Concept of Exile in Ancient Israel and its Historical Contexts, edited by Ehud Ben Zvi and Christoph Levin, 295–​308. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 404. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2010. Linville, James R. “Mythoprophetics: Some Thoughts.” In Wilson and Edelman, History, Memory, Hebrew Scriptures, 403–​415. Machinist, Peter. “The Voice of the Historian in the Ancient Near Eastern and Mediterranean World.” Interpretation 57 (2003): 117–​137. Mayfield, Tyler D. Literary Structure and Setting in Ezekiel. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 2/​43. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010. Megill, Allan. Historical Knowledge, Historical Error: A Contemporary Guide to Practice. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007. Mein, Andrew. “Ezekiel: Structure, Themes, and Contested Issues.” In The Oxford Handbook of the Prophets, edited by Carolyn J. Sharp, 190–​206. New York: Oxford University Press, 2016. Meyers, Carol. “Foreign Places, Future World: Toponyms in the Eschatology of Zechariah 9.” Eretz Israel 24 (1993): 164*–​172*. Meyers, Carol, and Eric Meyers. “The Future Fortunes of the House of David: The Evidence of Second Zechariah.” In Fortunate the Eyes that See: Essays in Honor of David Noel Freedman, edited by Astrid B. Beck et al., 207–​222. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995. Moore, Megan Bishop. “Writing Israel’s History Using the Prophetic Books.” In Moore and Kelle, Israel’s Prophets and Israel’s Past, 23–​36. Moore, Megan Bishop, and Brad E. Kelle, eds. Israel’s Prophets and Israel’s Past: Essays on the Relationship of Prophetic Texts and Israelite History in Honor of John H. Hayes. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 446. New York: T&T Clark, 2006. Mroczek, Eva. The Literary Imagination in Jewish Antiquity. New York: Oxford University Press, 2016. Nevader, Madhavi. “Inserting David: Royal Dynamics in Ezekiel 34 and 37.” Paper presented at the Society of Biblical Literature International Meeting. Vienna, Austria. July 7, 2014. Nevader, Madhavi. “Picking Up the Pieces of the Little Prince: Refractions of Neo-​Babylonian Kingship Ideology in Ezekiel 40-​ 48?” In Exile and Return: The Babylonian Context,

Ezekiel as a Written Text    185 edited by Jonathan Stökl and Caroline Waerzeggers, 268–​291. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 478. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2015. Niditch, Susan. Oral World and Written Word: Ancient Israelite Literature. Library of Ancient Israel. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1996. Nihan, Christophe. “The nāśȋʾ and the Future of Royalty in Ezekiel.” In Wilson and Edelman, History, Memory, Hebrew Scriptures, 229–​246. Nissinen, Martti. Ancient Prophecy: Near Eastern, Biblical, and Greek Perspectives. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018. Nissinen, Martti. “How Prophecy Became Literature.” Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 19 (2005): 153–​172. Nissinen, Martti. Prophets and Prophecy in the Ancient Near East, with contributions by C. L. Seow and Robert K. Ritner. SBL Writings from the Ancient World 12. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature Press, 2003. Odell, Margaret S. Ezekiel. Smyth &Helwys Bible Commentary. Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 2005. Odell, Margaret S. “You Are What You Eat: Ezekiel and the Scroll.” Journal of Biblical Literature 117, no. 2 (1998): 229–​248. Pioske, Daniel D. Memory in a Time of Prose: Studies in Hebrew Scribalism, Epistemology, and the Biblical Past. New York: Oxford University Press, 2018. Rofé, Alexander. “Properties of Biblical Historiography and Historical Thought.” Vetus Testamentum 66 (2016): 433–​455. Sanders, Seth L. The Invention of Hebrew. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press, 2009. Schniedewind, William M. How the Bible Became a Book. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004. Stock, Brian. Listening for the Text: On the Uses of the Past. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1990. Sweeney, Marvin A. “Ezekiel: Zadokite Priest and Visionary Prophet of the Exile.” In Form and Intertextuality in Prophetic and Apocalyptic Literature, 125–​143. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 45. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005. Sweeney, Marvin A. Reading Ezekiel: A Literary and Theological Commentary. Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 2013. Troxel, Ronald L. Prophetic Literature: From Oracles to Books. Malden, MA: Wiley-​ Blackwell, 2012. Ulrich, Eugene C. The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Origins of the Bible. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1999. Ulrich, Eugene C., ed. The Biblical Qumran Scrolls: Transcriptions and Textual Variants, 3 volumes. Leiden: Brill, 2013. van der Toorn, Karel. Scribal Culture and the Making of the Hebrew Bible. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007. Vayntrub, Jacqueline. “Proverbs and the Limits of Poetry.” PhD diss., University of Chicago, 2015. Vayntrub, Jacqueline. “Tyre’s Glory and Demise: Totalizing Description in Ezekiel 27.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 82, no. 2 (2020): 214–​236. Wilson, Ian D. Kingship and Memory in Ancient Judah. New York: Oxford University Press, 2017. Wilson, Ian D. “Yahweh’s Consciousness: Isaiah 40-​48 and Ancient Judean Historical Thought.” Vetus Testamentum 66 (2016): 646–​661.

186   Ian D. Wilson Wilson, Ian D., and Diana V. Edelman, eds. History, Memory, Hebrew Scriptures: A Festschrift for Ehud Ben Zvi. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2015. Yerushalmi, Yosef Hayim. Zakhor: Jewish History and Jewish Memory. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1982. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezekiel 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 1–​24, translated by Ronald E. Clements. Hermeneia. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1979.

Chapter 10

Eze kiel among t h e E x i l e s Dalit Rom-​S hiloni

Initially, the book of Ezekiel places the prophet by the Chebar canal, in Tel Aviv, Babylonia (1:1; 3:15). Ezekiel son of Buzi, a member of the Jerusalem priestly aristocracy, was among the Jehoiachin exiles deported to Babylonia in 597 bce (2 Kgs 24:8–​ 17); he was commissioned to prophesy during his fifth year in exile (592 bce). The last dated prophecy specifies 570 bce (Ezek 29:17), and throughout his prophetic career the prophet is said to reside among his fellow exiles. Could the book of Ezekiel be taken to at least roughly reflect its narrative timeframe and geographical location? That is, can the book be said to reflect the actual historical and social context of the prophetic activity of this Judahite prophet within the recently established community of deportees in Babylonia? Or, should the book be considered a pseudepigraphic work—​written within the Persian or even Hellenistic periods by authors/​scribes of the Ezekiel school, long since resettled in Yehud? Challenges to the book’s narrative framework have been raised from very different directions. Traditional Jewish approaches—​tannaitic through medieval—​had great difficulty with this story’s beginning: the divine commissioning of a prophet in a foreign land, in Babylonia. The tannaitic Midrash Mekhilta de-​Rabbi Yishmael (Pisḥa 1) draws upon what it considered the stylistic and formal redundancy of ‫ הָ יֹה הָ יָה ְדבַ ר־יהוה‬hāyōh hāyāh ḏəḇar-​Yhwh (Ezek 1:3), as a clue to dual places and moments of revelation:1 Some say: He had already spoken with him in the land, and then He spoke with him outside of the land, for thus it is said: “The word of the Lord had come and came to Ezekiel.” ‘Had come’ indicates that He had spoken with him in the land; and ‘and came’ indicates that He spoke with him outside of the land.

This same approach was taken by the Aramaic Targum to 1:3;2 in the early Middle Ages, it similarly stood behind Rashi, ad loc., who assumed that the prophetic commission (chs. 2–​3) had been pronounced already in Judah, prior to the deportation. By differentiating the first revelation as one that must have been made in the Land,

188   Dalit Rom-Shiloni from subsequent revelations that might indeed be made outside it, this interpretive approach legitimates Ezekiel’s subsequent prophetic activity outside of the land, among the exiles.3 From a critical point of view, the question of authorship, particularly in relation to the temporal and geographical literary context of the book, has captured a central place within scholarly deliberations. On the one hand, scholars have recognized that the book reflects the perspective of a priestly elite, anchored thoroughly in Judean traditions. On the other hand, the book’s unique details—​its language, visionary elements, and so on—​ have resonances in the Babylonian milieu. Furthermore, the book of Ezekiel has often been understood as a uniform, coherent, and homogeneous composition, although opinions differ on the extent to which a presumed “Ezekiel school” was involved in the literary evolution of the book.4 How one explains the absorption of both Judean and Babylonian cultural elements in the book’s literary evolution has been a matter of long-​ standing controversy among Ezekiel scholars. One of the fiercest debates in Ezekiel scholarship was ignited by Torrey (1930), who offered the following assessment:5 Here is a prophecy originally composed in Jerusalem and Judea, which has been made over in a perfectly transparent manner into a product of the Chronicler’s Babylonian exile.

This chapter examines the literary evidence within Ezekiel, along with the extrabiblical data relevant to the cultural, temporal, and geographical aspects of this prophetic book, which are commonly adduced by scholars either to support or to refute the surface narrative of the book of Ezekiel—​the story of a prophet active among the Jehoiachin–​Judean exiles in Babylonia. The discussion leads to more complex questions concerning both the sociology of the exile and its aftermath; and the theology of exile, i.e., the significant theological contributions that Ezekiel (and his followers) might be credited with in formulating, or reformulating, the Judahite religion in the face of Jerusalem’s destruction and the exile.

1.  Narratology of Exile: Geographical and Cultural Aspects The book of Ezekiel tells quite a lot about the prophet’s Babylonian context, and yet it seems to hide, or possibly ignore, more than it reveals. Ezekiel’s prophecies barely address (if at all) some of the key experiences of dislocation and relocation endured by the Judean deportees. Among these neglected experiences are the long and traumatic journey to Babylonia, the early stages of resettlement, the daily life of the deportees, their occupations, their sociological re-​organization, and so on.6 Nevertheless, abundant references testify to the book’s Babylonian provenance.

Ezekiel among the Exiles    189

1.1  Ezekiel among the Jehoiachin Exiles: The Biblical Evidence Repeatedly throughout the book of Ezekiel, the prophet is presented as a member of the group of Jehoiachin exiles (597 bce, 2 Kgs 24:8–​17). He resides “among the community of exiles” (‫ בְ תו ְֹך־הַ ּגוֹלָה‬ḇəṯôḵ-haggôlāh, Ezek 1:1–​3);7 this group is styled as the prophet’s own people: “Go to the exile community (‫ הַ ּגוֹלָה‬haggôlāh), to your people (‫ְּבנֵי עַ ּ ֶמ ָך‬ bənê ˁameḵā)” (3:11; see also 11:24, 25); and as his brothers: “your brothers, your brothers ָ ֶ‫יך אַ ח‬ ָ ֶ‫ אַ ח‬ˀaḥeyḵā ˀaḥeyḵā), men of your kindred (‫ְשי גְ אֻ ּלָתֶ ָך‬ (‫יך‬ ֵ ׁ ‫ אַ נ‬ˀanšê gəˀullāṯeḵā; LXX reads οἱ ἄνδρες τῆς αἰχμλωσίας σου, i.e., ‫ אנשי גלותך‬ˀnšy glwtk “men of your exile”), all of that very house of Israel” (11:15). Furthermore, the book’s orientation in time is shaped by that event; the prophet counts time by the years ‫ לְ גָלוּתֵ נ ּו‬ləgālûṯēnû (“of our exile,” 33:21; 40:1).8 The first-​person plural pronoun clarifies that in this proclamation, Ezekiel is part and parcel of that community, and that it is the prophet’s immediate audience. Only once does the book specify the actual city (village?) in which Ezekiel and the Judean deportees resided, Tel Aviv (3:15). This name has long been explained as a Hebraicized form of til abūbi, “mound of the flood”; it is thus understood to denote a re-​established settlement, presumably in the region of Nippur.9 However, surprising as it may seem, there is no explicit evidence in the book of familiarity with any of the major cities of Babylonia, let alone with its capital, the city of Babylon.10 Prophesying to his fellow exiles, the prophet was recognized as a virtuosic rhetorician (33:30–​33). He was occasionally addressed by the exiles’ leadership, designated as “the elders of Judah” (8:1), or “the elders of Israel” (14:1; 20:1); he was also sought by the general public (33:30b), who came to his home to inquire of Yhwh. Whether Ezekiel held any official (or non-​official) position of leadership among the Jehoiachin exiles is contested.11 As a member of the Jerusalem elite, Ezekiel understandably evinces a predisposition in favor of Jehoiachin and against Zedekiah (Ezekiel 17; see §2, below). He never explicitly targets the deported king, any of the king’s deported officials, or any other members of the Jerusalem elite presumably deported with him (including other priests and prophets), whether residing with him in Tel Aviv or elsewhere in Babylonia (let alone in the city of Babylon itself).12 This silence has led scholars to draw several inferences: (a) Ezekiel and his immediate community resided in a remote peripheral area far from the major cultural and political center(s) of Babylonia; while (b) there was another Judean community of deportees, of higher social rank, that resided in the city of Babylon.13 Some have suggested that Ezekiel and possibly others of the community in Tel Aviv were intentionally banished to this remote location by the Babylonian rulers, segregated from the rest of the exilic community.14 These inferences warrant exploration in at least two separate directions: (a) Culturally, does the book of Ezekiel validate the presumption of the prophet’s Babylonian context? What may be said about the nature of those cultural connections? And (b) sociologically, was Ezekiel’s community segregated from interactions with their Babylonian environs?

190   Dalit Rom-Shiloni A third question, concerning the lack of interest in the circumstances of the deportees’ daily life in Babylonia, which stands in contrast to the great interest of ­chapters 1–​24, 33 in the ongoing life and future fate of Jerusalem, will be considered below.

1.2  Ezekiel in Babylonia: Evidence for Acculturation The Babylonian context of the book of Ezekiel has been supported by a wide range of textual examples, studied using various comparative methodologies.

1.2.1  Lexical Influences Ezekiel’s prophecies contain a fairly large number of hapax legomena, many of which may be explained as having been drawn from Akkadian.15 Of the most interesting observations is the wide spectrum of lexemes referring to daily life (e.g., ‫ ּג ַּלָב‬gallāḇ “barber,” 5:1; from gallābu “barber”);16 idioms that belong to the legal sphere (e.g., ‫חֲ ב ֹל‬ ḥăḇōl and ‫ חֲ בֹלָה‬ḥăḇōlāh “pledge,” 18:7, 12; from hubullu “interest”); administrative terms (e.g., ‫ ְקנֵה הַ ִּמדָּ ה‬qənēh hammiddāh “measuring reed,” 40:5; from qan middati); political-​royal language (e.g., ֹ ‫ ְמ ִחי קָ בָ לּ ו‬məḥî qāḇāllô, “the storm of his warfare,” 26:9; reflecting mehû, “storm,” and qablu, “warfare”);17 and mercantile terms (e.g., ‫ אֶ ׁ ְש ּ ָכר‬ˀ󠅡eškār “assigned quota,” 27:15; reflecting iškaru “work assignment”). Significantly, Ezekiel integrates these loan words as calques into his prophecies—and at times plays with their Akkadian meanings to suit his own prophetic message for his Judean audience in Babylonia.18 Hence, this plentitude of examples and their Hebrew-​like new usages suggest that Akkadian was becoming widely known among the prophet’s exilic audience, not even limited to his close circle.

1.2.2  Acquaintance with Babylonian Culture Several scholars have pointed out Ezekiel’s familiarity with major themes—​mostly drawn from the political, religious, and cultic (even magic) spheres—​which he adapted into his prophecies in clever and cautious ways. Yoder argued that ‫ הַ ּ ַת ּנִים הַ ָ ּגדו ֹל‬hattannîm haggāḏôl (29:3) is a literary Mesopotamian calque, standing for the Akkadian royal epithet ušumgallu (Sumerian: UšUM.GAL) “great dragon.”19 This epithet was used in Old Babylonian texts as well as Neo-Assyrian royal inscriptions, and hence was applied to kings from Hammurapi to Esarhaddon, as an aspect of royal propaganda; it is also used to designate Mesopotamian deities (Marduk, Nabu, Adad, and Nergal).20 Of even greater interest is Ezekiel’s wit in sarcastically applying this epithet to the Egyptian king (and playing thus on ‫הַ ּ ַת ּנִים‬, the crocodile that resides in his ‫ ְיא ֹר‬yəˀōr, i.e., the Nile, 29:3), bringing into the context both an echo to the Egyptian god Sobek as the crocodile, polemicizing against the mythological overtones of this primordial creature (bringing in Gen 1:21), to manifest its hubris, and shortly to present its judgment through casual fishing imagery (Ezek 29:4–​5; 32:3–​8).

Ezekiel among the Exiles    191 Bodi’s study of twelve different similarities between Ezekiel and the Poem of Erra led him to illustrate the ways Ezekiel altered the message to be appropriate to his Yahwistic religion, e.g., the six-​plus-​one “men” in Ezekiel 9, who compare to the sebetti, the seven destroying gods in Erra.21 This famous Neo-​Babylonian (NB) composition—​in which Erra, Ishum, the Sebetti, Marduk, and Anum all take part in the destruction of the Sutu (the paradigmatic human enemies of Babylon), and eventually promise restoration—​ serves as a framework for Ezekiel to portray Yhwh’s role in the destruction of the city, Jerusalem. Furthermore, didactic goals motivate both, although Ezekiel sets the own; even the structure of the book of Ezekiel is built on an axis of divine abandonment and return, as in Erra. Most important is the recognition that the two compositions face a similar theological problem: the need to explain the catastrophe of destruction theologically (even theodically); and this could explain what attracted Ezekiel—​or, for Bodi, “the Jewish intellectual elite in Babylonia”—​to adapt this famous composition to his/​ their own theological context.22 Winitzer suggested that Ezekiel alludes to the Gilgamesh narrative in the prophecies against Tyre (ch. 28). He argued that the parallels illustrate a deep grasp of Babylonian cosmological conceptions.23 Likewise, themes and motives that occur in Ezekiel hint at an acquaintance with Atrahasis, Enuma-​elish, and more.24 Bowen and Stökl discussed reflections of magical texts (the maqlu) in 3:17–​23, the passage concerning the prophetess.25 Darshan discussed ‫ וְ יָד ָּב ֵרא‬wəyāḏ bārēˀ in 21:24 (Hebrew numbering), suggesting that the symbolic action that the prophet is to take (vv. 23–​25) recalls the Babylonian bārû priest (diviner, seer of omens)—​who, while performing his ritual, gives his observation and actual advice to the king in his military campaign.26 Kutsko focused on theological conceptions concerning divine presence and absence, arguing that both Ezekiel and his audience were familiar with Mesopotamian concepts about idol construction;27 and Launderville discussed 37:1–​14 as an implicit polemical reaction to popular Mesopotamian conceptions and cults connected to Ishtar/​Inanna and Ea/​Enki, as recorded in various literary genres. Thus, Ezekiel formulates a theological confrontation against an actual threat of syncretism in Babylonia.28 Finally, Nevader explained the unprecedented status of Ezekiel’s ‫ ָנ ִׂשיא‬nāśîˀ, as the patron of the national temple and its cult in Ezekiel 40–​48, as grounded on the familiarity of “the authors of the Temple vision” with NB royal ideology.29 Recognizing important differences between the nasi and the Babylonian zāninu (“provider” of the sacrificial cult), Nevader suggested that the cultic orientation emphasized in this future political figure’s role is based on the Babylonian ideal of the devout king and his commitment to the sacral realm and its temples.30

1.2.3  Iconographic Influences Iconography introduces a whole spectrum of images and symbolic language that complements the literary evidence presented above. As with the literary references, the book of Ezekiel features many images that have as a context Babylonian religious culture.

192   Dalit Rom-Shiloni Ezekiel’s visions of the divine (Ezekiel 1; repeated and alluded to in chs. 8–​11, 40, 43) have attracted scholarly attention to the many similarities between these literary descriptions and a blend of mythological images that have their place in a larger Babylonian cosmological presentation of the deity enthroned in a heavenly shrine (with four winged-​animal figures, the wheels, the firmament, and the divinity seated above it surrounded by glory and fire).31 Uehlinger considers the earliest (“original”) vision, Ezekiel 1, as “a piece of scholarship” that illustrates “the early and exceptional acculturation of a learned Judahite exile to the Babylonian academia.” Accordingly, this description is dependent not only upon visual exposure to the Jerusalem Temple’s religious iconography, but also reflects an exposure to intellectual Babylonian circles.32 Among other passages, Bodi discussed the imagery of “dual rivers” (‫ נַחֲ ַליִם‬naḥălayim, 47:9) of flowing waters with abundance of fish in 47:1–​12; he associated this imagery with the famous Mesopotamian fertility symbols that appear on exterior temple decorations, royal statues, cylinder seals, etc. “The tree of healing,” which stands for the renewal of nature (of life) in this passage, introduces a reference to Babylonian medical and literary traditions relating to the kiškanū-​tree, common in Sumero-​Akkadian healing incantations in Mesopotamian texts (e.g., a Neo-​Assyrian text of 668 bce), as well as the Poem of Erra (850 bce). The fact that these two images are brought together reinforces the idea that Ezekiel (and his “epigones,” to quote Bodi) have been exposed to Babylonian influences through both visual and literary traditions.33 The metaphor of the last Judean kings as hunted lions (19:1–​9) serves as an additional, challenging, literary and iconographic example.34 Ezekiel rarely utilizes leonine imagery, although it is clear that the prophet is familiar with its traditional Judean uses. On the one hand, the lion symbolizes powerful leadership, bravery, etc. (e.g., Gen 49:9); on the other, its cruelty and violence are used to portray human and divine enemies (e.g., Jer 4:7; 25:34–​38).35 However, these heroic or threatening leonine qualities are not the focus of Ezek 19:1–​9. Rather the “princes of Israel,” i.e., the ruling royal family (7:27; 12:10,12), are portrayed as hunted beasts, pursued by the royal hierarchy in the land of Egypt (19:4), or by the king of Babylon (19:9). This metaphoric narrative reveals the prophet’s familiarity with the literary/​iconographic portrayal of the Mesopotamian royal hunt, a familiarity otherwise unattested in the Bible.36 Through these Mesopotamian allusions, Ezekiel reverses inherited traditions—​highlighting the contrast between the assured, strong, lion-​king of the national heritage and the present situation of the Judean kings as lions on the run.37 Beyond this list of parallels, which is quite astonishing in itself, I find two major points to highlight. First, Ezekiel is familiar with Mesopotamian lexemes, but beyond that, with Mesopotamian culture more generally. Many of the parallels draw upon older, Assyrian words, themes, and iconography—​that is, they are not restricted to NB influence per se. Second, the prophet (or his followers) adapted these motifs, theological themes, and literary compositions in ways that are impressively diverse. These adaptations demonstrate thoughtful and deep negotiations with cultural treasures that are not only polytheistic in their theological conception, but also foreign to the prophet’s

Ezekiel among the Exiles    193 (or his followers’) own cultural heritage. Yet they richly illustrate the degree of acculturation that the Judean deportees have undergone in only one to three generations. Each of the scholars who have shed light on this intriguing issue has expressed a conviction that Ezekiel (and his followers) was familiar with the surrounding Babylonian culture—​its language, literature, royal ideology, and religion. Some have even argued that such extensive knowledge required formal education in one of the Babylonian scribal schools, or intensive connections with members of the closed circles of the Babylonian intelligentsia.38 This ample data, coming from all aspects of life, validates the impression of the exiles’ acculturation to their Babylonian environment.39 The integration and adaptation of the above-​mentioned data into the prophecies of Ezekiel gave rise to several open questions concerning the routes through which Ezekiel (and his followers) got his/​their education(s). Were the prophet and his community exposed to Babylonian culture through their residence even in the peripheral towns where Judeans were known to have settled? Or was Ezekiel himself a frequent visitor to one of the larger cultic-​religious and political centers, such as Shurrupak, Nippur, or even Babylon? Was acculturation a result of the prophet’s intellectual nature; could Ezekiel be considered a “cultural broker”?40 Was it Ezekiel’s unique fortune to have been acquainted with learned native-​Babylonian scribes who could teach him in person,41 or even educate him more formally in one of the schools for scribes?42 Was this education connected to his priestly background, and to scribal priestly Babylonian traditions?43 In any event, the prophet and his book (and I would broaden the scope to include the entire community of Judean deportees), seem to me well-​contextualized in the sixth-​century NB period, struggling through the first and second generations of deportation yet engaged in free and interesting interactions with their cultural surroundings. Therefore, both Torrey’s conclusion as to the late (Hellenistic-​)Judean authorship of pseudo-​ Ezekiel in Yehud, and the inference that the Tel-​Aviv exiles were segregated in their own community and closed within their Judean traditions (Strine and Hoffman)—​must be discarded as untenable.

1.3  Questions Left Open: Accounting for Discordances Nonetheless, substantial questions have been left open since Torrey’s observations concerning the prophet’s Babylonian setting, audience, and message.44 In the late twentieth century, the discovery of the Al-​Yahūdu documents, which enriched the repertoire of earlier publications of NB-​and Persian-​period archival documents, have yet again brought such questions to scholarly attention.45 The Al-​Yahūdu documents published so far by Pearce and Wunsch integrate three major collections—​Sofer, Schøyen, and Moussaieff—​coming from regional toponyms in the geographical triangle south of Nippur: Al Yahūdu, Bīt Nashar, and Bīt Abīram.46 The three collections reveal quite similar information about the daily life of Judeans (and other West Semites) living in Babylonia between 572 and 477 bce, and thus they

194   Dalit Rom-Shiloni provide an important element of continuity from the NB period to the Persian era. Yet the NB period has only minor representation in these tablets; i.e., about ten percent of the listed tablets (fourteen texts, nos. 1–​10, 55–​58).47 To be even more specific, only three texts from the combined collections fall within Nebuchadrezzar’s regnal years (nos. 1, 2 from 572, 587/​562 respectively; and BaAr 6:1, from 566 bce). By their content, ten of the fourteen NB tablets are promissory notes for barley (and silver [two], or dates [one], see nos. 2, 3, 4, 7, 8, 9, 10, 55, 57, 58); one is an obligation to deliver goods, with a penalty provision (no. 1); one is a contract for slave rental, in combination with an antichretic pledge (no. 5); one is a receipt for partial repayment on a loan of silver (no. 6); and one is an annulment of a debt (no. 56). All these document types recur in other texts of the Persian period. In their Babylonian–​Persian context, the Al-​Yahūdu documents shed important light on several different topics. They contribute significantly to perceptions of continuity in various fields of life from the NB to the Persian periods; they highlight the rural area that grew in importance during the Achaemenid regime in Babylonia, on the roads between Susa and Babylon; and they reveal both lines of acculturation and the monopoly of Babylonian scribes over deported communities even three generations and more in Babylonia.48 Because they relate to Judean deportees, these tablets supplement the scant information published in 1939 by Weidner, concerning oil rations given to Jehoiachin, his sons, and a small number of Judeans in or around Nebuchadrezzar’s court within the capital, Babylon, dated to 592 bce, and the Murashu archive of the fifth century bce.49 This earlier collection shows Judean deportees interacting with Babylonians and with other West-​Semite-​deportees in subleasing, co-​ownerships, litigation, witnessing, even marriage.50 Most important is the fact that, presumably, these texts come from the same rural areas as that of Ezekiel’s Tel-​Aviv. However, they illustrate the acculturation of Judean deportees to Babylonian daily life in economic (agricultural and commercial), legal, and administrative areas that the book of Ezekiel does not attend to. Therefore, while the Al-​Yahūdu documents add interesting information concerning Judeans in the NB rural areas around Nippur, and will continue to be of valuable importance to Neo-​Babylonian–​Persian studies, they give such limited information about the NB period itself that they do not solve the riddles presented by the diverse cultural references within the book of Ezekiel, and thus are of only limited value to biblical studies. The comparison between the epigraphic materials and the biblical book of Ezekiel is limited by time, by aspects of acculturation, and by the formers’ ability to clarify social questions of core and periphery, of elite and common, of prestige (and lack thereof) within Judean deportees.51

1.3.1  Time and Aspects of Acculturation The geographical and the limited temporal points of accordance between the Al-​Yahūdu documents and Ezekiel enable further observations concerning acculturation. The documents appear to support the notion that economically, the Judean deportees rapidly recreated “normal” life in their new locations. In a matter of less than three decades

Ezekiel among the Exiles    195 at the most (considering the earliest documents of 572, 570 bce), they were working in regional agriculture (growing barley and dates), in commercial trade (of fish and silver), and were property owners.52 However, if we consider the Ahiqam family, which is widely mentioned in the Al-​Yahūdu documents, we see that they had not gained wealth (and possibly higher social status) until the third generation, that of Ahiqam himself; in other words, really only after 532 bce.53 Therefore, the small amount of NB data may in fact indicate the difficulties of relocation, rather than quick acculturation into Babylonian economical life.54 Thus, it remains obscure to what extent Judean deportees had any contacts during the early period with major Babylonian cities; and to what extent cultural interaction could have shaped the cultural familiarity attested in the book of Ezekiel. The social exclusivity of NB society presented substantial challenges to the non-​Babylonian deportees. While there are clear attestations to the incentives of West-​Semitic deportees to upgrade their own lower-​strata, only a few succeeded in improving their social rank, and oftentimes they were still limited economically to the commercial and trade arena.55

1.3.2  Social Questions The Judean deportees’ resolution of internal social questions—​of core and periphery, of elite and nonelite status, of prestige (and the lack thereof)—​seem not to be clarified by the Al-​Yahūdu documents, at least when looking at the NB texts. According to Pearce and Wunsch (and their view is generally accepted by scholars), what the Al-​Yahūdu documents supply is a witness to the rural, simple, daily life of ordinary people—​ whereas the biblical evidence concerning the Jehoiachin exiles supposedly reflects the interests of the elite Jerusalemite leadership: the king, his entourage, the professionals, and the military staff brought to Babylon (the city? Or the land?) according to 2 Kgs 24:8–​17.56 However, one remarkable thing about Ezekiel’s speech is that he portrays his audience in Tel-​Aviv as the ordinary people; he is indifferent to social strata. No king, officials, soldiers/​officers, priests, or prophets serve in the local leadership. Rather, the community of exiles is led by the elders of Israel/​Judah (Ezek 8:1; 14:1: 20:1; and see Jer 29:1). Hence, for Ezekiel and his compatriots from among the Jehoiachin exiles, dislocation meant a sociological transition from being part of the urban elite (at least in their own eyes) of Jerusalem, the capital city of Judah, to being rural dwellers, now resettled on the periphery in an underdeveloped region, far removed from the major centers of Babylonian culture.57 Therefore, the evidence does not enable us to discern whether this dislocation to rural communities also meant a seismic shift in the Judean social strata (as often happens with first-​generation immigrants).58 Taking a broader perspective, a study of Ezekiel together with the Babylonian layer of Jeremiah, Deutero-​Isaiah, and the prophecies of Haggai and Zechariah suggests that the prophets indeed addressed deported Judeans (and then, repatriates); but it is not possible to tell whether those addressees were solely from elite (or formerly elite) circles.59 By studying these two very different sources together—​that is, the book of Ezekiel and the Al-​Yahūdu documents—​we may certainly learn more about the Babylonian context

196   Dalit Rom-Shiloni of Ezekiel; but just as illuminating, we must note the significant distance between the social-​economic preoccupations of the Al-​Yahūdu tablets on the one hand, and the cultural-​theological aspects highlighted by the book of Ezekiel on the other. With these observations in mind we can return to examination of the sociological and theological aspects of exile as implied in the prophetic book.

2.  Sociology of Exile The Babylonian context of Ezekiel (the prophet and the book) is further illuminated by its internal Judean orientation. Looking closely at the roles that Ezekiel plays among his fellow exiles, from the fifth year of the Jehoiachin exile to the destruction and its aftermath, brings us back to the question of the prophet’s audience(s) and their location(s). We have already seen that the book’s extensive concern with Jerusalem and Judah caused Torrey to locate the book’s composition in Persian (or even Hellenistic) Yehud. It is easy to show that the scene of the original prophecy is Jerusalem, and that Palestinian hearers are presupposed in every direct address to an audience. The entire ‘exilic’ situation is merely a matter of editorial patches.60

This is the riddle of the great emphasis in Ezekiel on Jerusalem and its fate. The key to solving this riddle is the distinction between addressee and target. Throughout the book, and specifically within Ezekiel 1–​24 and 33, the prophet addresses his fellows, the Jehoiachin-​exiles; they are his immediate audience.61 But the prophet targets his judgment prophecies against Jerusalem, which he repeatedly dooms to annihilation, oftentimes with no remnant (e.g., 5; 8–​9; 11:1–​13; 24:1–​14, 15–​24; 33:23–​29). The prophet and his audience of Jehoiachin exiles share an intense interest in the fate of Jerusalem—​i.e., the Temple, the city, its inhabitants, and its king, Zedekiah. In this same unit, c­ hapters 1–​24 and 33, Ezekiel addresses his own community of exiles with several consolation prophecies targeted only at them (e.g., 11:12–​21; 20:1–​38, esp. vv. 32–​38; and the same obtains in chs. 34–​37, see 36:5–​15). Only rarely, and in moderate tones, does the prophet admonish the community of his fellow exiles (e.g., 2:1–​3:11; 14:1–​11; 20:1–​5, 30–​32). A polemical distinction between the Jehoiachin exiles and those who had remained in Jerusalem governs the book of Ezekiel. Recognizing this fact may explain the difficulty that Torrey (and others) have struggled with. Distinguishing the prophet’s addressees from the targets of his judgment prophecies reveals that the prophet sides with his own community of exiles—​and allows us to trace the ways he and his close followers constructed a separatist national-​religious ideology for the exilic community. Using a sociological group-​identity model, I have earlier argued that Ezekiel defines the “in-​group”—​the people of Yhwh—​entirely and only as the Jehoiachin exiles, living in Babylonia; those who remained in Jerusalem, the “out-​group,” have already been judged and cast away by God (see further the theological-​ideological discussion in §3, below).62

Ezekiel among the Exiles    197 This dichotomy is further illustrated in nine disputation speeches in Ezekiel.63 The prophet distinguishes between statements made by “the inhabitants of Jerusalem” (11:15), or “upon the soil of Israel” (12:21; 18:2), and the assertions of his fellow exiles, designated as “your fellow countrymen” (33:30), or “the House of Israel” (33:10: 37:11).64 The prophet presents the Jerusalemite assertions as sinful speeches (11:3; 11:15; 12:22; 33:24), or as bitter protest (18:2); whereas the Jehoiachin exiles’ pronouncements illustrate embarrassment and desperation (12:27; 18:19; 18:25, 29; 20:32; 33:10; 33:17, 20; 37:11).65 In his prophetic refutations, Ezekiel answers the Jerusalemites’ sinful assertions with prophecies of judgment that is to fall upon the people remaining in Judah (e.g., 11:1–​13); but he speaks with consolation to the Jehoiachin exiles (e.g., 11:14–​21; 37:1–​11). These literary distinctions reveal the prophet’s preference for the exiles, and his antipathy against the people who remained. Furthermore, by taking account of Ezekiel’s tone and argumentation, the existence of a lively and vital rivalry between the Judahite communities in Jerusalem and Babylonia can be established already by the early years of the sixth century bce.66 In addition, these disputation speeches cast Ezekiel in the important role of supplying ideological support to his community of Jehoiachin exiles (see §3, below). Reading Ezekiel through the sociological lens of group-​identity ideology reveals in even more subtle ways the social dichotomy that the prophet has established. A comparison of two passages, 16:1–​43 and 20:1–​38, is especially telling. While not connected in any way by either the prophet or the book’s editors, both of these passages are structured as oppositional prophecies that look at the God-​people relationship by means of the parameter of time, focusing respectively on the past and on the possible future of each community.67 Moreover, both prophecies reflect on the covenant relationship through the same thematic categories: constitution of the God-​people relationship, violation of the covenant, retaliation, and possible future restoration or the lack thereof. Yet the evaluative differences are striking. For its part, 16:1–​43 delegitimizes Jerusalem—​as Canaanite in origin (v. 2), adulterous in present behavior (vv. 15–​34), and doomed to death in the land in the future (vv. 35–​43).68 In contrast, 20:1–​38 legitimizes the Jehoiachin exiles as the genuine continuation of the seed of Jacob in Egypt (v. 5). Furthermore, this prophecy predicts the continuation of divine kingship over “the House of Israel” (v. 33) that will culminate in a re-​establishment of the covenant bond with the exilic group prior to their return to the land (v. 37). Chapters 1–​24 construct the identity of the remnant in Jerusalem as the illegitimate out-​group, by emphasizing that it has sinned horrendously against Yhwh; in proclaiming God’s retaliation, Ezekiel construes the city’s destruction as a justifiable talio punishment. Jerusalem, the “city of blood” (22:2), is regularly found guilty on account of abominations (e.g., 5:9; 7:3, 4, 8, 9; 9:4), which include idolatry (e.g., 5:11; 6:9, 11; 8:6, 9, 13, 15, 17; 11:18, 21; 14:6; 16:36; 18:12; 43:8); moral misdeeds (e.g., 22:9–​12); sexual offenses (16:22, 51, 58; 22:11); bloodshed (e.g., 16:20–​21, 38; 22:12), and so on. These are all crimes of the highest degree, which metaphorically identify the city (and its inhabitants) with the adulterous wife and child-​murderer of 16:1–​43. In retaliation, Jerusalem is to be completely destroyed, with its inhabitants dead in the land or at its borders (6:1–​7, 11–​14;

198   Dalit Rom-Shiloni 7:1–​27; 11:1–​13; 12:17–​20; 21:1–​5, 6–​12, 13–​22, 23–​32 [English verse numbering]; 22:17–​22, 23–​32; 23; 24:1–​14). If any are deported, this remnant, scattered to the wind, will still be chased by the sword (5:5–​17). In other words, Ezekiel applies the covenant curses of Lev 26:33 to this community alone.69 By way of comparison, Ezekiel certainly did not consider his fellow exiles righteous (as is clear from 2:1–​3:11; 11:1–​11; 18:1–​20, and more). But in his restricted references to the exiles’ misconduct, he employs neither the marital metaphor (with its calamitous ending) nor the other harsh terms that he uses to denigrate Jerusalem for its guilt (see 14:6, 11; 33:31–​32).70 Rather, Ezekiel favors his own community as the in-​group, as Yhwh’s people, and empowers them with hope (see §3, below). Furthermore, these polemical tendencies against Jerusalem persisted through its destruction and the arrival of the 586 exiles in Babylonia. Ezekiel 12:15–​16 and 14:21–​ 23 give a didactic mission to those survivors who reached Babylon and joined the 597 Jehoiachin exiles. Designated as small in number (12:6), or survivors of sons and daughters (14:22), they are to tell of their abominations to the nations (12:16); in 14:22–​23, they are designated as object-​lessons for the exiles. The example of the survivors will provide consolation for the exiles, showing them that Jerusalem has been properly and justifiably punished.71 Hence, these two prophecies reinforce the Jehoiachin exiles’ superiority. Even after 586 bce, and in the setting of exile, the Jerusalemite survivors are clearly marked and denigrated as the ongoing reminder of Jerusalem’s iniquities and unworthiness.72 These passages indicate the enduring hostility of the Jehoiachin exiles to the later waves of exiles, accentuating the distinctions in prestige and rank between the Judean communities (joining the explicit disputations of 11:14–​21; 33:23–​29; etc.). However, this extreme separation within Babylonian exilic circles seems not to have persisted after Ezekiel.73 The prophet’s followers (tradents, editors; or even the prophet himself?) seem to be responsible for two substantial modifications to the prophet’s extreme group-​identity distinctions:74 (a) introduction of the possibility of reinstitution of the covenant relationship with Jerusalem and its inhabitants (16:59–​63); and (b) development of an inclusive attitude toward the exiles that encompasses both the Jehoiachin group and those who came subsequently to Babylonia (chs. 34–​37). The secondary nature of 16:59–​63 may be shown on literary grounds, whereas the more inclusive exilic approach of ­chapters 34–​37, and the ideological differences between these passages and the extreme exclusivity outlined above, may illustrate a distinction between earlier and later authors within the book of Ezekiel.75 One further issue related to the sociology of exile demands attention. Based on the reference to the Jehoiachin exiles’ destination as ‫ ָּבבֶ ל‬bāḇel (but was this the capital of, or the land of, Babylonia?) in 2 Kgs 24:15, 16, and on the NB economic documents from Nebuchadrezzar’s royal court, several scholars have argued for the existence of two Babylonian exilic communities—​one in the capital, Babylon, and the other on the periphery. Strine employs sociological studies of involuntary migration and refugee studies to distinguish between three communities of dislocated migrants: (a) those settled in the city of Babylon; (b) those settled in the remote isolated “refugee camp,” Chebar,

Ezekiel among the Exiles    199 represented by Ezekiel; and (c) those displaced within Judah itself. This awareness of multiple experiences of involuntary migration helps Strine interpret many relevant texts in Jeremiah and Ezekiel and highlight differences between the two prophetic books.76 Independently, and from a literary-​historical critical point of departure, Hoffman speaks of two Judean exilic communities. One is urban, more intellectual, and open to acculturation among the Babylonian elite; connected to the (now exiled) Jerusalem royal court, this community is said to have kept open communication with Jerusalem, as recorded in a few passages within Jeremiah’s Deuteronomistic layer (e.g., Jer 29). The other community is peripheral and segregated in Tel-​Aviv, as recorded in the book of Ezekiel.77 Here I will challenge those two studies’ principal points of departure.78 Both build on the assumption that the Tel-​Aviv community was peripheral, segregated, and detached from both its presumed co-​exilic community in urban Babylon and from Jerusalem. However, as argued above, there is no valid reason to consider Ezekiel and the other deportees as set off from their surroundings. Furthermore, neither our biblical nor extrabiblical sources support the existence of a Judean community in the capital by the NB period, beyond the scant community of royal-​court dependents.79 I thus consider the question of a Judean community in the city of Babylon to remain a riddle. Even more intriguing is the question of whether Ezekiel himself ever visited the great city—​ or other Mesopotamian centers. Rather, the internal conflicts presented above seem to obtain between the Jehoiachin exiles, represented by Ezekiel, and those who remained in Jerusalem. There is no trace of communication between Ezekiel and the deported Jehoiachin court members presumed to be settled in the city of Babylon. In summary, the struggle over group identity cuts across the book of Ezekiel; it governs the distinction between the immediate audience of addressees in Tel-​Aviv, Babylonia, and the far away target of doom in Jerusalem. Ezekiel structures his message to his exiled compatriots through exclusive arguments of otherness, well-​based in Yahwistic religious traditions, and now adapted to suit the situation of the Babylonian exiles.

3.  Theology of Exile This final part of the chapter is hardly a theology of the entire book of Ezekiel.80 Rather, I set out a few aspects of how that book reformulates traditional religious concepts so as to constitute an ideology for the Babylonian exile. As seen above, the book reveals its Babylonian context by means of its familiarity with Mesopotamian ideas and practices (although it does not concern itself with daily life). At the same time, however, and more importantly, the prophet and his followers speak to the Jehoiachin-​Judean exiles using terms, theological themes, and ideological content that are founded on Yahwistic/​ Judahite religious traditions. Therefore, an understanding of the use of these concepts adds a crucial dimension to the project of situating Ezekiel (and his book) among the Babylonian exiles of the early sixth century.81

200   Dalit Rom-Shiloni

3.1  Conceptions of Yhwh The prophet’s commissioning by the Chebar canal is of telling importance not only for the iconographic influences that are noticeable in this scene, as discussed earlier (§1.2.3). More significantly, Ezekiel constructs monotheistic divine conceptions in integrative and creative ways.

3.1.1 Ezekiel’s Yhwh is Dynamic, Transcendent, and Immanent As a dynamic god, Yhwh is revealed in Babylonia, free to move to all four corners of the earth, enthroned on a universal vehicle by which the deity masters the entire cosmos (via the four animals, 1:5–​14). This dynamic God further takes the prophet to Jerusalem and back in ‫ מַ ְראו ֹת אֱ ל ִֹהים‬marˀôṯ ˀĕlōhîm (“visions of God,” 1:1; 8:3; 40:2). Chapters 9–​10 (9:3; 10:1; etc., whether by the prophet or followers) puts this cosmological vehicle in the context of the ‫ ְּכ ֻרבִ ים‬ḵəruḇîm “cherubim”—​drawing on the traditional Yahwistic epithet ‫ֹשב הַ ְּכ ֻרבִ ים‬ ֵ ׁ ‫ י‬yōšēḇ hakkəruḇîm and its conception (NRSV: “enthroned on the cherubim,” e.g., 2 Sam 6:2; 22:11; 2 Kgs 19:15; and note the Priestly artifact, Exod 25:18–​22; 1 Kgs 8:6–​ 7). While the Ezekiel visions portray Yhwh as transcendent and universal, Yhwh is at the same time clearly immanent in the divine house in Jerusalem (9:3; 10:3–​4, 18). Even in terms of this unique dwelling place, however, Yhwh is not limited: God leaves it, overlooks the city from the eastern mountain (11:22–​23), and then destroys it, although eventually Yhwh will return and dwell in it forever (43:1–​9). Moreover, throughout, Ezekiel’s Yhwh is depicted in anthropomorphic and anthropopathic terms.82 As scholars have shown, Ezekiel’s divine conceptions are based on diverse Yahwistic traditions, which the prophet reformulates for the needs of exile. In addition to the divine vehicle presented above, the dynamic principle of a “walking, moving about” God is borrowed from the governing principle of the desert-​wandering traditions, with the movable tabernacle (e.g., Exod 40:34–​38; formulated also in 2 Sam 7:6, with ‫ הלך‬h-​l-​k, the verb that governs in Ezekiel). Likewise the vague (often considered abstract) priestly ‫ ְּכבו ֹד־יהוה‬ḵəḇôḏ Yhwh “glory of the Lord” is given human form in Ezek 1:26–​28 (although without details); it serves to demonstrate the divine presence, both in the temple (43:7–​9, esp. v. 5; compare to Exod 40:35) and with the exiles.83

3.1.2  Divine Presence and Abandonment The theological issue of divine presence and abandonment is a crucial one for the exilic community. It is addressed from two perspectives in Ezekiel—​here, too, in accordance with the prophet’s Babylonian orientation. The elders in Jerusalem are quoted as saying, “Yhwh does not see us; Yhwh has abandoned the country” (8:12; 9:9); Ezekiel refutes this claim, arguing that Yhwh has not yet left the temple and the city. In c­ hapters 8–​11, Yhwh is portrayed as completely present in Jerusalem—​seeing all, knowing even the abominations done in secret (8:7–​13); on this basis, Yhwh pronounces judgment upon the city and sentences to annihilation all who are unrepentant (9:9–​11). Furthermore, Ezekiel insists that the divine presence is in the land, when he depicts Yhwh upon the eastern mountain (11:22–​23).84

Ezekiel among the Exiles    201 On the other hand, Ezekiel refutes the Jerusalemites’ accusation against the exiles (whom he designates “the whole house of Israel”): “Keep far from Yhwh; to us this land is given for a possession.” (11:15). Indeed, Yhwh has taken them far away (v. 16a), yet they are never abandoned. Rather, the deity has become for them a ‫ ִמ ְקדָּ ׁש ְמעַ ט‬miqdāš məˁaṭ (NJPS: “a diminished sanctity”) in the different lands to which they have been expelled (v. 16b).85 Ezekiel employs Deuteronomic conceptions of exile as a divine action (e.g., Deut 28:36), but he reverses the Deuteronomic component that takes exile as a finishing blow to the God-​people relationship (Deut 4:25–​28; 28:36, 64).86 Rather, Yhwh’s dynamic presence allows God to be present with the deported people in exile. This ideological innovation constructs the new status of the exiles as away from the land of Israel, but not distanced from God; as separated from those who remained in Judah, but as themselves the true people of Yhwh.

3.1.3  Theodicy in the Destruction In both judgment prophecies and in retrospective reflections within consolation prophecies (e.g., 36:16–​38), Ezekiel’s major motivation is theodical, i.e., justifying Yhwh for the extreme actions against the temple, city, and people. Jerusalem’s guilt entirely justifies its final destruction. As presented above (see §1), this argument is also taken to serve the internal polemic against those who remained in Jerusalem. The survivors of the 586 disaster exist only to communicate this guilt to the Jehoiachin exiles (14:21–​23). It is of interest that theodical arguments hardly appear in words that address the Jehoiachin exiles (i.e., there is no clear justification for that community’s deportation). Exceptions may be found in 20:1–​38 (see §2.2), and in prophecies that refer to the role of Yhwh as judge (see §2.4), where the exiles are called to repent—​and thus are given hope (14:1–​11; 18:1–​20, 21–​35; and possibly also the “watchman” passages in 3:17–​21; 33:1–​20).

3.2  Covenant Conceptions Ezekiel uses two different (and interchangeable) metaphorical frameworks to portray the God-​people relationship: the political metaphor, which transfers sovereign–​vassal relations to the theological realm of Yhwh as king, and the people as servants; and the familial metaphors of adoption and marriage, in which Yhwh is a father or husband, and the people/​city are his daughter or wife.87 In a creative way, the prophet adapts the political metaphor to his fellow exiles (20:1–​38), and the adoption and marital metaphors to Jerusalem (16:1–​43). Both prophecies employ one of these metaphors to depict the same points in the history of the covenant relationship (constitution, violation, retaliation) and its possible future restoration. The designation of Jerusalem as adulterous wife closes out any option of future restoration, dooming Jerusalem to death (16:36–​41). In contrast, the political metaphor allows Yhwh the prerogative to re-​institute his kingship over the Jehoiachin exiles as the reconstituted people, notwithstanding their sins (20:33). To establish continuity between the seed of Jacob in Egypt and in the desert and the Jehoiachin exiles, the prophet invokes Non-​P, Priestly, and Deuteronomic

202   Dalit Rom-Shiloni covenant traditions in 20:5–​26, and in verses 30–​38.88 Ezekiel builds his message of hope on two main points gathered from the history of the God-​people covenant relationship. The first stems from the geographical horizon of covenant-​making. The common denominator of the depicted eras (taking vv. 27–​29 as secondary) is that the covenant was originally initiated only outside the land of Israel; thus, the new covenant will similarly be initiated in the “desert of the peoples”; that is, in the exile (20:35–​38).89 The second element that instills hope is Yhwh’s commitment to the covenant. The people’s disobedience to Yhwh’s ritual demands had started already when Yhwh initiated the covenant relationship with the people in Egypt (v. 5), and it had persisted ever since (vv. 7–​8, 13, 21, 30). Time and again, the people deserved to be punished with total destruction (vv. 8b, 13b, 21b), but Yhwh decided unilaterally not to destroy them, for the sake of his own prestige in the face of the foreign peoples (vv. 9, 14, 22). Although the divine oath had changed as a consequence of the people’s sins (vv. 6, 15, 23), the people’s behavior never abrogated Yhwh’s commitment (v. 33). In Ezekiel’s prophecy of consolation (vv. 33–​38), these two central lessons bridge the historical gap and connect the present generation of the Babylonian exiles to the earliest generations in Egypt and in the desert. Thus the Jehoiachin exiles are the ones with whom Yhwh will retain his kingship and covenant.90

3.3  Hopes for Restoration and Return Hopes for restoration are expressed to, and targeted at, only these exiles—​who are designated as Yhwh’s people (e.g., [‫ עַ ִּמי [ ִי ְׂש ָראֵ ל‬ˁammî [yiśrāˀēl] “my people [Israel]” 34:2, 30; 36:12, 20; 37:12, 13); they are to be redeemed (i.e., taken, gathered, etc., e.g., 11:17; 36:24–​ 29, note the echo of Exod 6:6–​8) and brought back to the land of Israel (e.g., 11:17–​20; 20:38; 34:13–​16; 36:6–​15, 22–​36; 37:21).91 Once they have returned, they will go through an internal transformation (11:19; 36:26–​27), to ensure that they remain Yhwh’s obedient people, committed to God through the covenant formula (11:20; 36:28; 37:23, 26–​27).92 Therefore, no future breach of this covenant relationship is even possible: the covenant of peace, 34:25–​30, will be established through the blessings of Lev 26:3–​13; but in distinction from this invoked tradition, God’s re-​established covenant with the exiles will be sustained eternally. The people who remained in Jerusalem are given no future of survival in the land, or away from it (e.g., 16:1–​43, see above). Following the destruction, the land of Israel is portrayed as desolated and empty to the point that its ecological substance was damaged (e.g., 6:14; 12:19–​20; 15:8; 21:1–​5 [English verse numbering]; 33:28–​29; 38:8). Subsequently, no remaining Judean (Yahwistic) community in the land is recognized. Accordingly, in the consolation prophecies, the land waits empty and barren for the returnees; it is portrayed as flourishing again only in preparation for their return (e.g., 34:25–​30; 36:6–​15, 29–​30, 33–​36; 37:37–​38).

Ezekiel among the Exiles    203

3.4  Conceptions of Retribution Ezekiel presents a wide spectrum of retribution concepts in his prophecies. Communal and transgenerational retribution is clear in the commission prophecy (2:3–​7), in the symbolic actions of c­ hapters 4–​5, as in 20:1–​38, and more. This is also the basis for distinguishing the two aspects—​the transgenerational and the communal—​in 18:1–​20.93 That chapter opens with a quotation of protest proclaimed in the land of Israel (18:2; see Jer 31:29), and follows with short calls that could well have been raised by Ezekiel’s Babylonian-​exilic audience (18:19, as also vv. 25, 29). The disputation speech is built upon the audience’s presupposed acquaintance with the traditional conception of trans-​ generational retribution (v. 19). In his refutation, the prophet justifies Yhwh’s judgment at that specific moment in history by identifying the present generation as the second in line (“a ruffian, a shedder of blood,” vv. 10–​13); at the same time, he leaves hope for the exiles to change and to identify themselves with the third, righteous generation (vv. 14–​20). This line of hope is further developed in vv. 21–​32 into a restrictive individual-​ retribution conception, which offers through repentance the possibility of reducing retribution’s immediacy, which can change one’s fate even within one’s own lifetime (thus also 3:16–​21; 33:1–​9, 10–​20). Ezekiel’s innovative message is built on invoking and transforming Deut 24:16, by which he detaches the bonds of sin and retribution between parents and children. The prophet advances the conception of an immediate retribution upon the sinning generation, while meanwhile disengaging the righteous children from their sinful parents.94

3.5  Babylonian-​Exilic Ideology The above-mentioned selected theological conceptions illustrate the prophet’s vital contributions to the evolution of an exilic ideology during the first years of the exile in Babylon. This ideology was first constructed exclusively for the Jehoiachin exiles, using three major ideological principles:95 (1) Entirety: Establishing the exiles as the entire people of Yhwh—​they are ‫ עַ ִּמי ִי ְׂש ָראֵ ל‬ˁammî yiśrāˀēl (e.g., 36:12); (2) Continuity: The Jehoiachin exiles are the (sole or true) descendants of the seed of Jacob (e.g., 20:5); and (3) Annexation: Claiming the national-​historical and religious heritage of Yhwh’s people. Ezekiel re-​shapes those major religious and traditional conceptions to serve the new status of the exiles as a dislocated community.

4.  Conclusions The evidence presented above goes hand in hand with the narrative offered by the book of Ezekiel. The prophet and his book demonstrate a prophetic literature that is

204   Dalit Rom-Shiloni deeply acquainted with Babylonian (even Mesopotamian) culture, and yet also clearly Yahwistic and Judean by cultural orientation. While the book admittedly avoids many aspects of the deportees’ daily life, nonetheless a wide range of factors—​the rich literary evidence, the social perspectives, and the theological readjustments that Ezekiel makes in established Yahwistic traditions—​all testify to the same temporal and cultural context of Ezekiel (the prophet and the book): it is precisely set among the exiles within the Neo-​ Babylonian period, during roughly the first half of the sixth century bce.

Notes 1. Translation by Jacob Z. Lauterbach, Mekhilta de Rabbi Ishmael: A Critical Edition Based on the Manuscripts and Early Editions (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 2004), Pisḥa 1, p. 5. The Mekhilta (ibid., 4–​5) suggests diverse explanations for and restrictions of divine revelation to prophets in foreign lands; among the former are the merits of ancestors (Jer 31:16); among the latter, a proximity to pure and running waters (Ezek 1:3). 2. Targum to Ezek 1:3: “The word of prophecy from before the Lord was with Ezekiel son of Buzi the priest in the land of Israel, and again once more He spoke with him in the country of the land of the Chaldeans on the River Chebar; and there the spirit of prophecy from before the Lord rested upon him.” For the translation, see Samson H. Levey, The Targum of Ezekiel (Aramaic Bible 13; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1987), 20. 3. See also the commentary by David Kimḥi, ad loc. The conception that ties prophetic revelation to the land of Israel also seems to be behind BT Baba Batra 14b–​15a, which identifies the authors of Ezekiel as “the men of the Great Synagogue”; compare to Charles C. Torrey, Pseudo-​Ezekiel and the Original Prophecy (Yale Oriental Series Researchers 18; New Haven: Yale University Press, 1930; reprint, New York: Ktav, 1970), 19–​21, who used this rabbinic source to argue for Judean authorship of the third century bce, without recognizing the theological argument behind it. 4. The presumption of the book’s literary coherence versus a notion of gradual literary growth over time is one of the major issues under debate in Ezekiel studies. Consult Walther Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 1–​24, trans. R. E. Clements (Hermeneia; Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1979), 68–​74; Moshe Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20 (Anchor Bible 22; New York: Doubleday, 1983), 3–​27; Paul M. Joyce, Ezekiel: A Commentary (Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 482; New York: T&T Clark, 2007), 7–​16; among others. The present discussion begins with the idea that the composition is fairly unified, as if the book of Ezekiel evolved among the close followers of Ezekiel in time and space—​and thus within the sixth century bce and in Babylon. The present chapter then validates this working assumption. 5. Torrey, Pseudo-​Ezekiel, p. XXXVII; harshly criticized by S. Spiegel, “Ezekiel or Pseudo-​ Ezekiel,” Harvard Theolgical Review 24 (1931): 245–​321; and William F. Albright, “The Seal of Eliakim and the Latest Preexilic History of Judah, with Some Observations on Ezekiel,” Journal for Biblical Literature 51 (1932): 77–​106, esp. pp. 97–​101; see also Torrey’s response, “Ezekiel and the Exile: A Reply,” Journal for Biblical Literature 51 (1932): 179–​181. For further criticism of Torrey’s argument, see Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 16–​17; Zimmerli, Ezekiel 2, 564, and passim. 6. Neglect of these aspects of dislocation and relocation is not unique to the book of Ezekiel. See Dalit Rom-​Shiloni, “Exile in the Book of Isaiah,” in Oxford Handbook of Isaiah (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2020), 293–​317.

Ezekiel among the Exiles    205 7. Unless otherwise noted, all renderings of the Bible from the NJPS unless otherwise noted. 8. Even without a specific mention of ‫לְ גָלוּתֵ נ ּו‬, the year of the Jehoiachin exile stands behind all of the other chronological superscriptions: 8:1; 20:1; 24:1; 26:1; 28:17; 30:20; 31:1; 32:1, 17. 9. Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20, 71. As evidence for the Nippur region as the area where Judean deportees were resettled, see Ezra 2:49; 8:17; note David S. Vanderhooft, Neo-​Babylonian Empire and Babylon in the Latter Prophets (Harvard Semitic Monographs 59; Atlanta: Scholars, 1999), 110–​112; Daniel I. Block, Ezekiel 1–​24 (New International Commentary of the Old Testament; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997), 135. 10. Wayne Horowitz has suggested Shurupak as Ezekiel’s closest Babylonian center (oral communication). 11. I tend to see Ezekiel as an informal spokesperson for the Jehoiachin exiles (“Ezekiel,” 1–​ 45), for I do not see any evidence that he held an official role; cf. Yair Hoffman, The Good Figs: The Jehoiachin Exile and Its Heritage [Hebrew] (Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University Press, 2018), 325–​326. 12. Babylonian economic records indicate that Jehoiachin, his five sons, and about fifty Judean officials were present in the Babylonian royal court in the city of Babylon; see Ernst F. Weidner, “Jojachin: König von Juda, in Babilonischen Keilschriftexten,” in Melanges syriens offerts a M. R. Dussand (Paris: Geuthner, 1939), 2:923–​935. This scant data led scholars to develop the notion of a Babylonian diaspora with two main centers—​one in the city of Babylon and the other in Tel Aviv; see §1, below. 13. The notion of the peripheral community is widely accepted by Ezekiel scholars and is supported by Babylonian documents; see §1.2, below. The idea of social stratification among the Babylonian exiles was recently argued by Hoffman, Good Figs, 215–​220, 258–​ 265, 466–​487. 14. Casey Strine, “Is ‘Exile’ Enough? Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and the Need for a Taxonomy of Involuntary Migration,” Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel 7 (2019): 289–​315. The following discussion proves this unsupported assumption to be wrong. 15. Lists of words have been discussed in several studies; e.g., Isaac Gluska, “Akkadian Influences on the Book of Ezekiel,” in An Experienced Scribe Who Neglects Nothing: Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Honor of Jacob Klein (Bethesda: CDL, 2005), 718–​737; Jonathan Stökl, “Schoolboy Ezekiel: Remarks on the Transmission of Learning,” Die Welt des Orients 45 (2015): 56–​61; David S. Vanderhooft, “Ezekiel in and on Babylon,” in Bible et Proche-​Orient: Melanges Andre Lemaire (Transeuphratène 46; Paris: Gabalda, 2014), 99–​ 119; Avraham Winitzer, “Assyriology and Jewish Studies in Tel Aviv: Ezekiel among the Babylonian Literati,” in Encounters by the Rivers of Babylon: Scholarly Conversations between Jews, Iranians, and Babylonians in Antiquity, ed. U. Gabbay and S. Secunda (Texte und Studein zum antiken Judentum 160; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 163–​216, esp. 165–​ 167. On the possibility that some of those loan words entered the book through Aramaic, see S. Kaufman, Akkadian Influences on Aramaic (Assyriological Studies 19; Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1974); S. P. Garfinkel, “Studies in Akkadian Influences in the Book of Ezekiel,” PhD diss., Columbia University, 1983. 16. Stökl finds this usage to be part of “the basic level of scribal training.” “Schoolboy Ezekiel,” 57–​58, here 58. See further below. 17. Victor A. Hurowitz, “Review of Akkadian Loanwords in Biblical Hebrew, by P. Mankowski,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 122 (2002): 137n14; and Winitzer, “Assyrian and Jewish Studies,” 166–​167, and n16. 18. One such example is the use of the idiom ana nudunnu nadānu “to give a gift to one’s wife, dowry,” taken from family laws, which in Ezekiel is used satirically to denigrate the

206   Dalit Rom-Shiloni illegitimate behavior of Jerusalem as adulterous wife: ‫ל־מאַ הֲ בַ י ְִך‬ ְ ָ‫ וְ אַ ְּת נָתַ ְּת אֶ ת־נ ְָד ַני ְִך לְ כ‬wəˀat nāṯat ˀeṯ-nəḏānayiḵ ləḵol-məˀahăḇayiḵ, 16:33. See Vanderhooft, “Ezekiel,” 108. 19. Tyler R. Yoder, “Ezekiel 29:3 and Its Ancient Near Eastern Context,” Vetus Testamentum 63 (2013): 486–​496. 20. Yoder, “Ezekiel 29:3,” 489–​492. 21. Daniel Bodi, The Book of Ezekiel and the Poem of Erra (Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 104; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1991), 95–​110. 22. Bodi, Erra, 52–​68, 306–​320, here 315; however, on 318, Bodi argues that this familiarity with the Erra poem should be attributed to the prophet himself and not to any redactional layer. Bodi (312–​314) also notes significant differences between the two compositions. 23. Winitzer, “Assyria and Jewish Studies,” 163–​216, esp. 165–​167. 24. Bodi also mentions parallels in prophetic letters from Mari, royal inscriptions, and even apocalyptic literature; Erra, 27. 25. Nancy R. Bowen, “The Daughters of Your People: Female Prophets in Ezekiel 17–​23,” Journal for Biblical Literature 118 (1999): 417–​433; and Jonathan Stökl, “The ‫ מתנבאות‬in Ezekiel 13 Reconsidered,” Journal for Biblical Literature 132 (2013): 61–​76. 26. Guy Darshan, “The Meaning of ‫( ברא‬Ez 21,24) and the Prophecy Concerning Nebuchadnezzar at the Crossroads (Ez 21,23–​29 [18–​24]),” Zeitschrift für die alttesta­ mentliche Wissenschaft 128 (2016): 83–​95. 27. John F. Kutsko, Between Heaven and Earth: Divine Presence and Absence in the Book of Ezekiel (Biblical and Judaic Studies 7; Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2000), 150–​156. 28. Dale Launderville, “The Threat of Syncretism in Ezekiel’s Exilic Audience in the Dry Bones Passage,” Die Welt des Orients 45 (2015): 38–​49. 29. Madhavi Nevader, “Picking Up the Pieces of the Little Prince: Reflections of Neo-​ Babylonian Kingship Ideology in Ezekiel 40-​48?” in Exile and Return: The Babylonian Context, ed. J. Stökl and C. Waerzeggers (Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 478; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2015), 268–​291, here 285. Nevader also mentions the relatively few studies that have addressed Mesopotamian influences on this last unit of the book; 269 and n4. 30. Nevader (“Picking Up the Pieces,” 270–​277) convincingly showed the exceptional nature of this portrayal of the nasi in comparison to Judahite/​Davidic royal ideology, and to future expectations in both Jeremiah and Deutero-​Isaiah. In the same discussion, she also delineated lines of resemblance and difference between the Babylonian king and his roles and the more limited role given to the nasi, and pointed out Ezekiel’s unique portrayal of “powerlessness,” which has no parallels in either Judahite or Neo-​Babylonian sources (277–​290, esp. 289). 31. For the details brought together in this vision, and for the recognition of its multi-​layered composition, see Christoph Uehlinger and Susanne M. Trufaut, “Ezekiel 1. Babylonian Cosmological Scholarship and Iconography: Attempts at Further Refinement,” Theologische Zeitschrift 57 (2001): 147–​171; Christoph Uehlinger, “Virtual Vision vs. Actual Show: Strategies of Visualization in the Book of Ezekiel,” Die Welt des Orients 45 (2015): 62–​84; as also Ralph W. Klein, “A Prophet in Their Midst,” in Ezekiel: The Prophet and His Message (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1988), 14–​33; Ellen van Wolde, “The God Ezekiel 1 Envisions,” in The God Ezekiel Creates (Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 607; New York: T&T Clark, 2014), 87–​106. For the melammu that surrounds gods and its adaptation as the ‫ נֹגַ ּה‬nōḡah in Yhwh’s revelation (Ezek 1:27), see Shawn Z. Aster, The Unbeatable Light: Melammu and its Biblical Parallels (Ägypten und

Ezekiel among the Exiles    207 Altes Testament 384; Münster: Ugarit Verlag, 2012); Shawn Z. Aster, “Ezekiel’s Adaptation of Mesopotamian Melammu,” Die Welt des Orients 45 (2015): 10–​21. 32. Uehlinger, “Virtual Vision,” 72–​74, and n38. 33. Daniel Bodi, “The Double Current and the Tree of Healing in Ezekiel 47:1–​2 in Light of Babylonian Iconography and Texts,” Die Welt des Orients 45 (2015): 22–​37, esp. 35–​37. 34. Dalit Rom-​Shiloni, “Nature Imagery in the Interplay between Different Metaphors in the Book of Ezekiel,” in Networks of Metaphors in the Hebrew Bible, ed. D. Verde and A. Labahn (Bibliotheca ephemeridum theologicarum lovansiensium 309; Leuven: Peeters, 2020), 93–​ 109, esp. 102–​106. 35. Leonine images occur in only four prophetic passages in Ezekiel (19:1–​9; 22:25; 32:2; 38:13); in two additional contexts, lion imagery shows familiarity with iconographical representations (1:10; 10:14; as also the future-​temple ornaments with alternating human and lion faces, 41:19); these might stem from acquaintance with either Judahite or Mesopotamian (Assyrian) iconographic traditions. 36. For the Mesopotamian, specifically Neo-​Assyrian, royal hunt and its ideological and theological significance, see Elnathan Weissert, “Royal Hunt and Royal Triumph in a Prism Fragment of Ashurbanipal (82,5–​22,2),” in Assyria 1995: Proceedings of the 10th Anniversary Symposium of the Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project Helsinki, September 7–​11, 1995 (Helsinki: Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1997), 339–​358; Chikako E. Watanabe, Animal Symbolism in Mesopotamia: A Contextual Approach (Wiener Offene Orientalistik 1; Vienna: Institut für Orientalistik der Universität Wien, 2002), 65–​88. There is only one archeological indication that Nebuchadrezzar II was also aware of this lion-​hunt motif, and it was found in the periphery of his kingdom (Wadi Brisa, Lebanon). To date there is no extant Neo-​Babylonian example in Babylon itself or its mainland regions; see Rocío Da Riva, The Inscriptions of Nebuchadnezzar at Brisa (Wadi Esh-​Sharbin, Lebanon): A Historical and Philological Study (Archiv für Orientforschung 32; Vienna: Eigentümer, 2012), 94–​95. 37. The identity of the lions, especially that of the second ‫ ְּכפִ יר‬kəp̄îr, has come under debate. Although this is not crucial for the current argument, I argue for Zedekiah; see Rom-​ Shiloni, “Nature Imagery,” 104–​109. 38. Suggested independently by Stökl, “Schoolboy Ezekiel,” 56–​61; Winitzer, “Assyria and Jewish Studies,” 163–​216; Uehlinger, “Virtual Vision,” 72–​81. 39. On acculturation in contexts of forced migration, see Vanderhooft, “Ezekiel,” 101–​105 and references there. On acculturation of other Western and Egyptian minorities in Babylonia, see Gauthier Tolini, “From Syria to Babylon and Back: The Neirab Archive,” in Stökl and Waerzeggers, Exile and Return, 58–​93; Johannes Hackl and Michael Jursa, “Egyptians in Babylonia in the Neo-​Babylonian and Achaemenid Periods,” in Stökl and Waerzeggers, Exile and Return, 157–​180; and see §1.3, below. Another intriguing question concerns the interactions between such deported communities in their new locations, and the possibility that such interactions could be reflected on Ezekiel’s prophecies against the nations. 40. Waezeggers speaks of “cultural brokers”; “Locating Contact,” 131–​ 147. Vanderhooft describes Ezekiel as “an intellectual go-​between of a different sort”; “Ezekiel,” 119. 41. Thus Bodi, Erra, 314–​315, 319–​320; Uehlinger argued that Ezekiel “had considerable exposure to Babylonian cosmological scholarship”; “Virtual Vision,” 78. 42. Winitzer, “Assyria and Jewish Studies,” 163–​216, esp. 165–​167. Note, however, the apt criticism of this possibility by Angelika Berlejung, who suggests that this acculturation came simply through daily exposure; “Social Demarcation Lines and Marriage Rules in Urban

208   Dalit Rom-Shiloni Babylonia and Their Impact on the Golah,” in Tell it in Gath: Studies in the History and Archaeology of Israel: Essays in Honor of Aren M. Maeir on the Occasion of his Sixtieth Birthday (Ägypten und Altes Testament 90; Münster: Zaphon, 2018), 1051–​77, esp. 105n22, and 1067–​77. 43. Michael Jursa and Céline Debrouse, “Late Babylonian Priestly Literature from Babylon,” in Stones, Tablets and Scrolls, ed. P. Dobovsky and F. Giuntoli (Archaeology and Bible 3; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2020), 253–​281. 44. Torrey, Pseudo-​Ezekiel, 34, 112–​113; see §2, below. 45. For a list of the archives at hand, see Caroline Waerzeggers, “Locating Contact in the Babylonian Exile: Some Reflections on Tracing Judean-​ Babylonian Encounters in Cuneiform Texts,” in Gabbay and Secunda, Encounter by the Rivers of Babylon, 136–​137. 46. Laurie E. Pearce and Cornelia Wunsch, Documents of the Judean Exiles and West Semites in Babylonia in the Collection of David Sofer (Cornell University Studies in Assyriology and Sumerology 28; Bethesda: CDL Press, 2014), 3–​29; Laurie E. Pearce, “ ‘Judeans’: A Special Status in Neo-​Babylonian and Achaemenid Babylonia,” in Judah and Judeans in the Achaemenid Period: Negotiating Identity in an International Context (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2011), 267–​28; Laurie E. Pearce, “Continuity and Normality in Sources Relating to the Judean Exile,” Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel 3 (2014): 163–​184. The Schøyen and Moussaieff Collections are likewise due to be published by Wunsch, with the collaboration of Pearce, Judeans by the Waters of Babylon: New Historical Evidence in Cuneiform Sources from Rural Babylonia (BaAr 6. Dresden: ISLET, forthcoming). Note Waerzeggers’ criticisms of the archival reconstructions that Wunsch presented, and her counter-​ suggestions concerning these collections and their interpretation; “Review Article: Laurie E. Pearce and Cornelia Wunsch, Documents of Judean Exiles and West Semites in Babylonia in the Collection of David Sofer,” Strata 33 (2015): 181–​186. 47. The following account refers only to the published texts in Pearce and Wunsch, Documents, and thus to the texts mentioned in its introduction, pp. 7–​9. 48. Waerzeggers, “Review Article,” 186–​187; see particularly her discussion of the scribe Arad-​ Gula of Bit-​Nashar, active by 522–​520 bce under the changes of political control between Darius and Nebuchadrezzar IV. Of high relevance to the present study are several articles in Stökl and Waerzeggers, Exile and Return. 49. Weidner, “Jojachin,” 2:923–​935; Matthew W. Stolper, Entrepreneurs and Empire: The Murasu Archives, the Murasu Firm and Persian Rule in Babylonia (Istanbul: Nederlands Historisch-​Archaeologisch Instituut te Istanbul, 1985). 50. Katheleen Abraham, “West Semitic and Judean Brides in Cuneiform Sources from the Sixth Century BCE, New Evidence from a Marriage Contract from Al-​Yahūdu,” Archiv für Orientforschung 51 (2005–​2006): 198–​219; Kathleen Abraham, “Negotiating Marriage in Multicultural Babylonia: An Example from the Judean Community in Al-​Yahūdu,” in Stökl and Waerzeggers, Exile and Return, 33–​57; Pearce and Wunsch, Documents; Waezeggers, “Locating Contact,” 131–​147, esp. 134–​135. 51. For additional questions, see Martti Nissinen, “(How) Does the Book of Ezekiel Reveal Its Babylonian Context?” Die Welt des Orients 45 (2015): 85–​98. 52. Long before the publication of the Al-​Yahūdu tablets, this notion of fairly quick resettlement was argued by Israel Eph‘al, who suggested that within four to five generations following the exile, a cultural-​social elite was established in Babylonia; “The Western Minorities in Babylonia in the 6th-​5th Centuries B.C.: Maintenance and Cohesion,” Orientalia 47 (1978): 74–​90; Israel Eph‘al, “On the Political and Social Organization of the

Ezekiel among the Exiles    209 Jews in the Babylonian Exile,” in XII: Deutscher Orientalistentag, Vorträge, ed. F. Steppart (Zeitschrift des Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft Supllement 5; Wiesbaden: Steiner, 1983), 106–​112. The Al-​Yahūdu documents reinforce this observation; see Pearce, “Continuity and Normality.” 53. Pearce discussed Nebuchadrezzar’s interests in the Nippur region and in integrating the deportees into the Babylonian society and economy; “Continuity and Normality,” 169–​ 176, see esp. 172. However, the scant evidence from the NB period does not confirm this. 54. This is then a perspective on the “empty half ” of the glass, compared to the claim that the exiles were soon part of the Babylonian society and economy; cf. Pearce and Wunsch, Documents, no. 28:4–​5; Pearce, “Continuity and Normality,” 164, and 169–​176. See Caroline Waerzeggers for a less optimistic view on Judean interaction with the Babylonian host society; “Review Article: Laurie E. Pearce and Cornelia Wunsch, Documents of Judean Exiles and West Semites in Babylonia in the Collection of David Sofer,” Strata 33 (2015): 179–​194, esp. p. 187. Both Michael Jursa and Cornelia Wunsch take promissory notes as indications of difficult economic and social conditions; respectively “Debts and Indebtedness in the Neo-​Babylonian Period: Evidence from the Institutional Archives,” in Debt and Economic Renewal in the Ancient Near East, ed. M. Hudson and M. van de Mieroop (Bethesda, MD: CDL, 2002), 197–​219, esp. 200–​201; and “Debt, Interest, Pledge, and Forfeiture in the Neo-​Babylonian and Early Achaemenid Period: The Evidence from Private Archives,” in Hudson and van de Mieroop, Debt and Economic Renewal, 221–​255. 55. Waezeggers pointed out “the specific, or selective, social settings” where Judeans and Babylonians interacted: mostly in the commercial arenas of agriculture and trade—​and thus away from a priestly context of temples, where scholarly activities such as learning and writing were handled; “Locating Contact,” 138–​141. Through network analysis, she could argue that only on fairly rare occasions, “cultural brokers” might have served as transmitters of cultural exchange (ibid., 142–​143); see Berlejung, “Social Demarcation Lines,” 1051–​1077. 56. For criticism of Pearce and Wunsch on these sociological assumptions (Documents, 3–​4), see Rom-​Shiloni, “The Untold Stories: Al-​Yahudu and or versus Hebrew Bible Babylonian Compositions,” Die Welt des Orients 47 (2017): 124–​134. 57. Pearce and Wunsch leave open the possibility that the Judean elite “too, had been placed in rural areas,” but they argue that “the king’s entourage certainly had not”; Documents, 5. It seems that Pearce and Wunsch adopt Eph‘al’s assessment of the social background of the Judean deportees, where he tried to mediate between the elite status of the Jehoiachin exiles and the information suggested by the Murashu archive: “They could hardly have been the ancestors of those poor farmers mentioned in the Bit-​Murashu documents, who were settled in the Nippur region”; Eph‘al, “Political and Social Organization,” 110. 58. The Al-​Yahūdu finds led Pearce and Wunsch to assume that the Al-​Yahūdu people, documented in the archive dated to the Persian period, were not among the elite, and thus were not among the social circles of those who did return to Yehud following the Edict of Cyrus. Rather, they assume that the returnees “were the heirs of the elite Judean families of old who could claim (or hoped to claim) landed property and eventually restore their entitlement to Temple service and income”; Documents, 5. While this last assumption is probable but cannot be proven, I do want to emphasize that the entire issue is way beyond the available data. 59. D. Rom-​Shiloni, Exclusive Inclusivity: Identity Conflicts between the Exiles and the People Who Remained (6th-​5th Centuries BCE) (Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies

210   Dalit Rom-Shiloni 543; New York: T&T Clark, 2013). Similarly, I do not construe the return as evolving only from economic and social status interests within elite (or formerly elite) Judean families. The Persian-​period prophecy of Haggai and Zechariah does reflect the economic difficulties that the repatriates faced in Jerusalem (see Haggai 1 and 2); see more in Rom-​ Shiloni, “Untold Stories,” 128–​131 (and references there). 60. Torrey, Pseudo-​Ezekiel, 34. 61. Rom-​Shiloni, Exclusive Inclusivity, 140–​185, esp. 140–​144. 62. Rom-​Shiloni, Exclusive Inclusivity, 13–​29. 63. A. Graffy, A Prophet Confronts His People: The Disputation Speech in the Prophets (Analecta biblica 104; Rome: Biblical Institute Press, 1984), 105–​129. 64. The use of ‫ ּ ֵבית ִי ְׂש ָראֵ ל‬bêṯ yiśrāˀēl (“the House of Israel”) to address the exilic community is in itself a marker of exclusivity; see Paul M. Joyce, “Dislocation and Adaptation in the Exilic Age and After,” in After the Exile: Essays in Honor of Rex Mason, ed. J. Barton and D. J. Reimer (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1996), 45–​58, esp. 51; compare to Walther Zimmerli, Ezekiel 2: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 25–​48 (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983), 563–​565. 65. This socio-​geographic categorization differentiates Ezekiel from other prophets, who use the disputation speech to refute their audiences. Graffy pointed out Ezekiel’s exilic orientation, but he did not distinguish Ezekiel as making special ideological, exclusivist use of this genre; Prophet, 123–​124. The status of the quotation in 12:26–​28 attributed to “the House of Israel” is uncertain; see Graffy, Prophet, 57–​58. Sinful sayings attributed to the exiles are rare in Ezekiel; they are characterized as the words of false prophets (13:6, 7). 66. The chronological headings of some prophecies specify the time period as extending from the sixth year after Jehoiachin’s exile (8:1; 592/​1 bce) to the fall of Jerusalem (33:21, 23–​29; 586 bce), and probably to the following years as well (33:10–​20; 37:1–​14). See Christopher R. Seitz, “The Crisis of Interpretation over the Meaning and Purpose of the Exile,” Vetus Testamentum 35 (1985): 78–​97; Christopher R. Seitz, Theology in Conflict: Reactions to the Exile in the Book of Jeremiah (Beihefte zur Zseitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 176; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1989), 201–​202. 67. See the full discussion in Rom-​Shiloni, Exclusive Inclusivity, 149–​171. 68. For reasons of style and theme, I consider 16:59–​63 to be a non-​Ezekelian addition to the earlier segments of this chapter (vv. 1–​43, 44–​58). This passage indeed expresses a more inclusive tendency toward Jerusalem; see Rom-​Shiloni, Exclusive Inclusivity, 185–​192; and see below. 69. Rom-​Shiloni, Exclusive Inclusivity, 173–​179. 70. See details in Rom-​Shiloni, Exclusive Inclusivity, 172–​173. Compare to Andrew Mein, Ezekiel and the Ethics of Exile (Oxford Theological Monographs; Oxford University Press, 2001), 233–​240—​who argued that, according to Ezekiel, responsibility for the disaster was shared between the communities. 71. So Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 312–​313; Block, Ezekiel 1–​24, 451. 72. Ezek 22:13–​16 prophesies exile for the Jerusalemites and is considered a secondary addition by the prophet or his school (so Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 455, 459). An argument for its secondary character is the prediction of exile rather than annihilation within the city (as commonly, see above). Yet this passage still coheres with Ezekiel’s general perspective, which forecasts further calamity in exile for the remnant of Jerusalem, and it does not accept the 586 exiles into the established exilic community. 73. This is one of the cases where I concur with Zimmerli’s observations on the “process of literary editing” (Fortschreibung) in Ezekiel (Ezekiel 1, 68–​74). But note that Zimmerli

Ezekiel among the Exiles    211 allowed the possibility that “a great part of the transmission in the ‘school’ and the ‘updating of tradition’ of many oracles took place in Ezekiel’s house by the prophet himself ” who conducted “the secondary work of learned commentary upon and further elaboration of his prophecies, i.e., with a kind of ‘school activity’ ” (71). These observations jeopardize many of his earlier observations, as aptly and repeatedly shown by Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20, 18–​27. Yet some texts still do show literary growth. 74. William A. Tooman argued for even later strands in Ezekiel, looking at chs. 38–​39 as typologically akin to Second Temple “rewritten scripture”; Gog of Magog: Reuse of Scripture and Compositional Technique in Ezekiel 38–​39 (Forschungen zum Alten Testament 2/​52; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011). He thus dated those chapters to the late Persian period at the earliest (ibid., 271–​272); but then suggested that the author was most likely an individual of the Hellenistic period, not necessarily (though probably) of priestly circles, who had clearly mastered the Torah, Prophets, and Psalms, and considered them authoritative (273–​274). 75. Rom-​Shiloni, Exclusive Inclusivity, 185–​196. 76. Strine, “Is ‘Exile’ Enough?” 289–​315. 77. Hoffman, Good Figs, 455–​516. 78. For a broader criticism of Strine’s study, see Dalit Rom-​Shiloni, “Forced/​Involuntary Migration, Diaspora Studies, and More: Notes on Methodology,” Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel 7 (2019): 382–​398. 79. Compare the clear commercial connections between the resettled Judean community and the city of Babylon by the third generation, as documented in the Al-​Yahūdu documents; see 1.3 above. 80. For a more comprehensive study of the theology of Ezekiel, see Kutsko, Between Heaven and Earth; Daniel L. Smith-​Christopher, A Biblical Theology of Exile (OBT; Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2002); and Block, Ezekiel 1–​24, 46–​60. 81. To quote Kutsko: “The book of Ezekiel is deeply rooted in the context of the exile and the concerns of the Babylonian golah”; Between Heaven and Earth, 154. Kutsko aptly established this claim as governing the entire book (e.g., 78–​79). 82. Moshe Greenberg, “Anthropopathism in Ezekiel,” in Perspectives in Jewish Learning (Chicago: College of Jewish Studies Press, 1965), 1–​10. 83. Kutsko, Between Heaven and Earth, 77–​100; John T. Strong, “God’s Kābôd: The Presence of Yahweh in the Book of Ezekiel,” in Odell and Strong, Ezekiel, 69–​96; Steve S. Tuell, “Divine Presence and Absence in Ezekiel’s Prophecy,” in Odell and Strong, Ezekiel, 97–​116; Aster, Unbeatable Light. 84. Dalit Rom-​Shiloni, God in Times of Destruction and Exile [Hebrew] (Jerusalem: Magnes, 2009), 388–​413. 85. Joyce, “Dislocation and Adaptation,” 56–​58; Kutsko, Between Heaven and Earth, 96–​99; Rom-​Shiloni, Exclusive Inclusivity, 144–​153. 86. Dalit Rom-​ Shiloni, “Deuteronomic Concepts of Exile Interpreted in Jeremiah and Ezekiel,” in Birkat Shalom: Studies in the Bible, Ancient Near Eastern Literature and Post-​ biblical Judaism Presented to Shalom M. Paul on the Occasion of His Seventieth Birthday (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2008), 101–​123. Lev 26:33–​39 sets out H’s similar concept, which Ezekiel invokes in several passages (e.g., Ezek 5:2, 12). 87. These two metaphors are in use in Jeremiah, though in very different ways. See Rom-​ Shiloni, “The Covenant in the Book of Jeremiah: On the Employment of Marital and Political Metaphors,” in Covenant in the Persian Period: From Genesis to Chronicles, ed.

212   Dalit Rom-Shiloni R. Bautch and G. Knoppers (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2015), 153–​174. For the marital metaphor, see Julie Galambush, Jerusalem in the Book of Ezekiel: The City as Yahweh’s Wife (Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series 130; Atlanta: Scholars, 1992), 1–​24, 89–​107. 88. Risa Levitt Kohn, “ ‘With Mighty Hand and Outstretched Arm’: The Prophet and the Torah in Ezekiel 20,” in Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World: Wrestling with a Tiered Reality (Society of Biblical Literature Symposium Series 31; Atlanta: SBL, 2004), 159–​168; Dalit Rom-​Shiloni, “Facing Destruction and Exile: Inner-​Biblical Exegesis in Jeremiah and Ezekiel,” ZAW 117 (2005): 194–​205. Michael. A. Fishbane argued that this pattern in Ezekiel 20 appears to allude to Exod 32:9–​14; Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel (Oxford: Clarendon, 1988), 366. 89. On the secondary nature of vv. 27–​29 and 39–​44, see Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 405, 412; Rom-​ Shiloni, “Facing Destruction,” 200–​201. Others have considered vv. 27–​29 to be part of the original speech: Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20, 378; Yair Hoffman, “Ezekiel 20: Its Structure and Meaning” [Hebrew], Beit Miqra 20 (1975): 482; Block, Ezekiel 1–​24, 641–​645; Rimon Kasher, Ezekiel 1–​24 [Hebrew] (Mikra LeYisra’el; Jerusalem: Magnes, 2004), 385–​386. 90. For an elaborated discussion, see Rom-​Shiloni, Exclusive Inclusivity, 159–​162. 91. The only exception to this observation is 16:59–​63, which for different reasons seems non-​ Ezekielian; see Rom-​Shiloni, Exclusive Inclusivity, 187–​192. 92. This covenant formula occurs once more in Ezek 14:11, referring to the exiles, though not in a context of return. 93. On the communal–​generational retribution conception in Ezek 18, see Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 374–​387; and Paul M. Joyce, Divine Initiative and Human Response (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament: Supplement Series 51; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1989), 79–​87, 89–​106. Block speaks of the hopeful message in Ezekiel 18, and specifically in vv. 21–​32; Ezekiel 1–​24, 557–​589. 94. Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20, 332–​333. 95. Rom-​Shiloni, Exclusive Inclusivity, 27–​29, and for Ezekiel’s central role for generations to come, 265–​276.

Bibliography Abraham, Kathleen. “West Semitic and Judean Brides in Cuneiform Sources from the Sixth Century BCE, New Evidence from a Marriage Contract from Al-​Yahūdu.” Archiv für Orientforschung 51 (2005–​2006): 198–​219. Abraham, Kathleen. “Negotiating Marriage in Multicultural Babylonia: An Example from the Judean Community in Al-​Yahūdu.” In Stökl and Waerzeggers, Exile and Return, 33–​57. Albright, William F. “The Seal of Eliakim and the Latest Preexilic History of Judah, with Some Observations on Ezekiel.” Journal for Biblical Literature 51, no. 1 (1932): 77–​106. Aster, Shawn Z. “Ezekiel’s Adaptation of Mesopotamian Melammu.” Die Welt des Orients 45, no. 1 (2015): 10–​21. Aster, Shawn Z. The Unbeatable Light: Melammu and its Biblical Parallels. Alter Orient und Altes Testament 384. Münster: Ugarit Verlag, 2012. Berlejung, Angelika. “Social Demarcation Lines and Marriage Rules in Urban Babylonia and Their Impact on the Golah.” In Tell it in Gath: Studies in the History and Archaeology of Israel: Essays in Honor of Aren M. Maeir on the Occasion of his Sixtieth Birthday, edited by I. Shai et al., 1051–​1077. Ägypten und Altes Testament 90. Münster: Zaphon, 2018.

Ezekiel among the Exiles    213 Bodi, Daniel. The Book of Ezekiel and the Poem of Erra. Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 104. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1991. Bodi, Daniel. “The Double Current and the Tree of Healing in Ezekiel 47:1–​2 in Light of Babylonian Iconography and Texts.” Die Welt des Orients 45 (2015): 22–​37. Block, Daniel I. Ezekiel 1–​24; Ezekiel 25–​48. New International Commentary of the Old Testament. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997, 1998. Bowen, Nancy R. “The Daughters of Your People: Female Prophets in Ezekiel 17–​23.” Journal for Biblical Literature 118 (1999): 417–​433. Da Riva, Rocío. The Inscriptions of Nebuchanezzar at Brisa (Wadi Esh-​Sharbin, Lebanon): A Historical and Philological Study. Archiv für Orientforschung 32. Vienna: Eigentümer Verlage, 2012. Darshan, Guy. “The Meaning of ‫( ארב‬Ez 21,24) and the Prophecy Concerning Nebuchadnezzar at the Crossroads (Ez 21,23–​29 [18–​24]).” Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 128 (2016): 83–​95. Eph‘al, Israel. “The Western Minorities in Babylonia in the 6th-​5th Centuries B.C.: Maintenance and Cohesion.” Orientalia 47 (1978): 74–​90. Eph‘al, Israel. “On the Political and Social Organization of the Jews in the Babylonian Exile.” In XII: Deutscher Orientalistentag, Vorträge, edited by F. Steppart, 106–​112. Zeitschrift des Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft Supplement 5. Wiesbaden: Steiner, 1983. Eph‘al, Israel. “Jews in the Babylonian Exile during the Biblical Era: Cultural Influences and Characteristics” [Hebrew]. In Acculturation and Assimilation: Continuity and Change in the Nations’ Culture and in Israel, edited by Y. Kaplan and M. Stern, 29–​39. Jerusalem: Shazar, 1989. Fishbane, Michael A. Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel. Oxford: Clarendon, 1988. Gabbay, Uri, and Shai Secunda, eds. Encounters by the Rivers of Babylon: Scholarly Conversations between Jews, Iranians, and Babylonians in Antiquity. Texte und Studein zum antiken Judentum 160. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014. Galambush, Julie. Jerusalem in the Book of Ezekiel: The City as Yahweh’s Wife. Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series 130. Atlanta: Scholars, 1992. Garfinkel, S.P. “Studies in Akkadian Influences in the Book of Ezekiel.” PhD diss., Columbia University, 1983. Gluska, Isaac. “Akkadian Influences on the Book of Ezekiel.” In An Experienced Scribe Who Neglects Nothing: Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Honor of Jacob Klein, edited by Y. Sefati et al., 718–​737. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 2005. Graffy, Adrian. A Prophet Confronts His People: The Disputation Speech in the Prophets. Analecta biblica 104. Rome: Biblical Institute Press, 1984. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 1–​20; Ezekiel 21–​37. Anchor Bible 22, 22A. Garden City: Doubleday, 1983, 1997. Greenberg, Moshe. “Anthropopathism in Ezekiel.” In Perspectives in Jewish Learning, edited by M. Harris, 1–​10. Chicago: College of Jewish Studies Press, 1965. Hackl, Johannes, and Michael Jursa. “Egyptians in Babylonia in the Neo-​Babylonian and Achaemenid Periods.” In Stökl and Waerzeggers, Exile and Return, 157–​180. Hoffman, Yair. The Good Figs: The Jehoiachin Exile and Its Heritage [Hebrew]. Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University Press, 2018. Hoffman, Yair. “Ezekiel 20—​Its Structure and Meaning” [Hebrew]. Beit Miqra 20 (1975): 480–​486. Hudson, Michael, and Marc van de Mieroop, eds. Debt and Economic Renewal in the Ancient Near East. Bethesda, MD: CDL, 2002.

214   Dalit Rom-Shiloni Hurowitz, Victor A. “Review of Akkadian Loanwords in Biblical Hebrew, by P. Mankowski,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 122 (2002): 136–​138. Joyce, Paul M. “Dislocation and Adaptation in the Exilic Age and After.” In After the Exile: Essays in Honor of Rex Mason, edited by J. Barton and D. J. Reimer, 45–​58. Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1996. Joyce, Paul M. Divine Initiative and Human Response in Ezekiel. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament: Supplement Series 51. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1989. Joyce, Paul M. Ezekiel: A Commentary. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 482. New York: T&T Clark, 2007. Jursa, Michael. “Debts and Indebtedness in the Neo-​Babylonian Period: Evidence from the Institutional Archives.” In Hudson and van de Mieroop, Debt and Economic Renewal, 197–​219. Jursa, Michael, and Céline Debrouse. “Late Babylonian Priestly Literature from Babylon.” In Stones, Tablets and Scrolls, edited by P. Dobovsky and F. Giuntoli, 253–​281. Archaeology and Bible 3. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2020. Kasher, Rimon. Ezekiel 1–​ 24; Ezekiel 25–​ 48 [Hebrew]. Mikra LeYisra’el. Jerusalem: Magnes, 2004. Kaufman, Stephen A. The Akkadian Influences on Aramaic. Assyriological Studies 19. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1974. Klein, Ralph W. “A Prophet in Their Midst.” In Ezekiel: The Prophet and His Message. 14–​33. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1988. Kutsko, John F. Between Heaven and Earth: Divine Presence and Absence in the Book of Ezekiel. Biblical and Judaic Studies 7. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2000. Launderville, Dale. “The Threat of Syncretism to Ezekiel’s Exilic Audience in the Dry Bones Passage.” Die Welt des Orients 45 (2015): 38–​49. Lauterbach, Jacob Z. Mekhilta de Rabbi Ishmael: A Critical Edition, Based on the Manuscripts and Early Editions. Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 2004. Levey, Samson H. The Targum of Ezekiel. Aramaic Bible 13. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1987. Levitt Kohn, Risa. “ ‘With a Mighty Hand and an Outstretched Arm’: The Prophet and the Torah in Ezekiel 20.” In Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World: Wrestling with a Tiered Reality, edited by S. L. Cook and C. L. Patton, 159–​168. Society of Biblical Literature Symposium Series 31. Atlanta: SBL, 2004. Levitt Kohn, Risa. “ ‘As Though You Yourself Came Out of Egypt’: The Ethos of Exile in Ezekiel.” Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel 3 (2014): 185–​203. Mein, Andrew. Ezekiel and the Ethics of Exile. Oxford Theological Monographs. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001. Nevader, Madhavi. “Picking Up the Pieces of the Little Prince: Reflections of Neo-​Babylonian Kingship Ideology in Ezekiel 40–​48?” In Stökl and Waerzeggers, Exile and Return, 268–​291. Nissinen, Martti. “(How) Does the Book of Ezekiel Reveal Its Babylonian Context?” Die Welt des Orients 45 (2015): 85–​98. Odell, Margaret S., and J.T. Strong, eds. The Book of Ezekiel: Theological and Anthropological Perspectives. Society of Biblical Literature Symposium Series 9. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000. Pearce, Laurie E. “ ‘Judeans’: A Special Status in Neo-​Babylonian and Achaemenid Babylonia?” In Judah and the Judeans in the Achaemenid Period: Negotiating Identity in an International Context, edited by O. Lipschits, G. Knoppers, and M. Oeming, 267–​278. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2011.

Ezekiel among the Exiles    215 Pearce, Laurie E. “Continuity and Normality in Sources Relating to the Judean Exile,” Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel 3 (2014): 163–​184. Pearce, Laurie E., and Cornelia Wunsch. Documents of Judean Exiles and West Semites in Babylonia in the Collection of David Sofer. Cornell University Studies in Assyriology and Sumerology 28; Bethesda, MD: CDL, 2014. Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit. “The Covenant in the Book of Jeremiah: On the Employment of Marital and Political Metaphors.” In Covenant in the Persian Period: From Genesis to Chronicles, edited by R. Bautch and G. Knoppers, 153–​174. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2015. Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit. “Deuteronomic Concepts of Exile Interpreted in Jeremiah and Ezekiel.” In Birkat Shalom: Studies in the Bible, Ancient Near Eastern Literature and Post-​biblical Judaism Presented to Shalom M. Paul on the Occasion of His Seventieth Birthday, edited by H. Cohen et al., 101–​123. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2008. Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit. Exclusive Inclusivity: Identity Conflicts between the Exiles and the People Who Remained (6th–​5th Centuries BCE). Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 543. New York: T&T Clark, 2013. Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit. “Exile in the Book of Isaiah.” In Oxford Handbook of Isaiah, edited by Lena-​Sofia Tiemeyer, 293–​317. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2020. Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit. “Ezekiel as the Voice of the Exiles and Constructor of Exilic Ideology.” Hebrew Union College Annual 76 (2005): 1–​45. Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit. “Facing Destruction and Exile: Inner-​Biblical Exegesis in Jeremiah and Ezekiel,” Zeitschrift für Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 117 (2005): 189–​205. Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit. “Forced/​Involuntary Migration, Diaspora Studies, and More: Notes on Methodology,” Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel 7 (2019): 382–​398. Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit. God in Times of Destruction and Exile. Jerusalem: Hebrew University Magnes Press, 2009 [Hebrew]. Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit. “Nature Imagery in the Interplay between Different Metaphors in the Book of Ezekiel.” In Networks of Metaphors in the Hebrew Bible, edited by D. Verde and A. Labahn, 93–​109. Bibliotheca ephemeridum theologicarum lovansiensium 309. Leuven: Peeters, 2020. Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit. “The Untold Stories: Al-​Yahudu and or versus Hebrew Bible Babylonian Compositions,” Die Welt des Orients 47 (2017): 124–​134. Seitz, Christopher R. “The Crisis of Interpretation over the Meaning and Purpose of the Exile.” Vetus Testamentum 35 (1985): 78–​97. Seitz, Christopher R. Theology in Conflict: Reactions to the Exile in the Book of Jeremiah. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 176. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1989. Smith-​Christopher, Daniel L. A Biblical Theology of Exile. OBT. Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Fortress, 2002. Spiegel, Shalom. “Ezekiel or Pseudo-​Ezekiel.” Harvard Theological Review 24 (1931): 245–​321. Stökl, Jonathan. “Schoolboy Ezekiel: Remarks on the Transmission of Learning,” Die Welt des Orients 45 (2015): 50–​61. Stökl, Jonathan. “The ‫ תואבנתמ‬in Ezekiel 13 Reconsidered,” Journal for Biblical Literature 132 (2013): 61–​76. Stökl, Jonathan, and Caroline Waerzeggers, eds. Exile and Return: The Babylonian Context. Beihefte zur Zseitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 478. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2015. Stolper, Matthew W. Entrepreneurs and Empire: The Murasu Archive, the Murasu Firm and Persian Rule in Babylonia. Istanbul: Nederlands Historisch-​Archaeologisch Instituut te Istanbul, 1985.

216   Dalit Rom-Shiloni Strine, Casey. “Is ‘Exile’ Enough? Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and the Need for a Taxonomy of Involuntary Migration.” Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel 7 (2019): 289–​315. Strong, John T. “God’s Kābôd: The Presence of Yahweh in the Book of Ezekiel.” In Odell and Strong, Ezekiel, 69–​96. Tolini, Gauthier. “From Syria to Babylon and Back: The Neirab Archive.” In Stökl and Waerzeggers, Exile and Return, 58–​93. Torrey, Charles C. Pseudo-​Ezekiel and the Original Prophecy. Yale Oriental Series Researchers 18. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1930. Reprint, New York: Ktav, 1970. Torrey, Charles C. “Ezekiel and the Exile. A Reply.” Journal for Biblical Literature 51 (1932): 179–​181. Tooman, William A. Gog of Magog: Reuse of Scripture and Compositional Technique in Ezekiel 38–​39. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 2/​52. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011. Tuell, Steven S. “Divine Presence and Absence in Ezekiel’s Prophecy.” In Odell and Strong, Ezekiel, 97–​116. Uehlinger, Christoph. “Virtual Vision vs. Actual Show: Strategies of Visualization in the Book of Ezekiel.” Die Welt des Orients 45 (2015): 62–​84. Uehlinger, Christoph and Susanne Müller Trufaut. “Ezekiel 1, Babylonian Cosmological Scholarship and Iconography: Attempts at Further Refinement,” Theologische Zeitschrift 57 (2001): 147–​171. Vanderhooft, David S. “Ezekiel in and on Babylon.” In Bible et Proche-​Orient: Melanges Andre Lemaire, edited by J.-​M. Durand and J. Elayi, 99–​119. Transeuphratène 46. Paris: Gabalda, 2014. Vanderhooft, David S. The Neo-​Babylonian Empire and Babylon in the Latter Prophets. Harvard Semitic Monographs 59. Atlanta: Scholars, 1999. van Wolde, Ellen. “The God Ezekiel 1 Envisions.” In The God Ezekiel Creates, edited by P. M. Joyce and D. Rom-​Shiloni, 87–​106. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 607. New York: T&T Clark, 2014. Waerzeggers, Caroline, “Locating Contact in the Babylonian Exile: Some Reflections on Tracing Judean–​Babylonian Encounters in Cuneiform Texts.” In Encounter by the Rivers of Babylon: Scholarly Conversations between Jews, Iranians and Babylonians in Antiquity, edited by U. Gabbay and S. Secunda, 131–​146. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014. Waerzeggers, Caroline, “Review Article: Laurie E. Pearce and Cornelia Wunsch, Documents of Judean Exiles and West Semites in Babylonia in the Collection of David Sofer,” Strata 33 (2015): 179–​194. Watanabe, Chikako E. Animal Symbolism in Mesopotamia: A Contextual Approach. Wiener Offene Orientalistik 1. Vienna: Institut für Orientalistik der Universität Wien, 2002. Weidner, Ernst F. “Jojachin, König von Juda, in Babilonischen Keilschrifttexten.” In Melanges syriens offerts a M. R. Dussand. 2:923–​935. Paris: Geuthner, 1939. Weissert, Elnathan. “Royal Hunt and Royal Triumph in a Prism Fragment of Ashurbanipal (82,5–​22,2).” In Assyria 1995: Proceedings of the 10th Anniversary Symposium of the Neo-​ Assyrian Text Corpus Project Helsinki, September 7–​11, 1995, edited by S. Parpola and R. M. Whiting, 339–​358. Helsinki: Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1997. Winitzer, Avraham. “Assyriology and Jewish Studies in Tel Aviv: Ezekiel among the Babylonian Literati.” In Gabbay and Secunda, Encounters by the Rivers of Babylon, 163–​216. Wunsch, Cornelia. “Debt, Interest, Pledge, and Forfeiture in the Neo-​Babylonian and Early Achaemenid Period: The Evidence from Private Archives.” In Hudson and van de Mieroop, Debt and Economic Renewal, 221–​255.

Ezekiel among the Exiles    217 Wunsch, Cornelia, and Laurie Pearce. Judeans by the Waters of Babylon: New Historical Evidence in Cuneiform Sources from Rural Babylonia. Manuscripts in the Schøyen Collection. BaAr 6. Dresden: ISLET, forthcoming. Yoder, Tyler R. “Ezekiel 29:3 and Its Ancient Near Eastern Context.” Vetus Testamentum 63 (2013): 486–​496. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezekiel 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 1–​24. Translated by R. E. Clements. Hermeneia. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezekiel 2: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 25–​48. Translated by J. D. Martin. Hermeneia. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983.

Chapter 11

E zekiel and P ol i t i c s Madhavi Nevader

1.  Prophecy and Politics Where there was a king, a prophet was close at hand: “Prophets and kings belong together. At least they did in ancient Israel” (Miller 1986, 82). Obvious as Miller’s comment might now appear, the prophetic typologies that dominated biblical studies for most of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries sought to separate the “writing” or “canonical” prophets from the apparatus of the state, presenting “true” prophecy as anti-​ institutional, giving voice to divine criticism of the state and its petty politics (Peterson 2000). But even a cursory reading of the prophetic corpus now contained in the Hebrew Bible makes such a position untenable. Perhaps Amos worked outside of the larger state apparatus, if we can treat a passage like Amos 7:10–​14 as anything other than theological speculation, but his narrative compatriots, Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel, are each firmly located at the centre of Judean political power. By the same token, we must not also assume that all prophets were politically central figures. In both biblical and Mesopotamian contexts, prophets rarely had the direct ear of the king and in many cases worked at the fringes of society (Nissinen 2000). If for “king” we read ”politics,” Miller’s quote still rings true even for a book like Ezekiel, which addresses a community already in exile: prophets and politics belong to each other. But with definitions of prophecy now firmly focused on the process of the phenomenon over the assumed social location of the prophet (Nissinen 2004; Weippert 1997), the connection between prophecy and politics can no longer be determined by spurious assumptions about the attitude of the former regarding the latter. Given the actors central to the biblical prophetic corpora (deity, king, city, people to name just a few), it is clear that prophecy and politics are indeed intimate bedfellows (Nissinen 2017). Nevertheless, the fact that David J. Reimer’s compelling work on Jeremiah (Reimer 2009b), as well as Isaiah (Reimer 2009a) and Micah (Reimer 2013), is an attempt to “redeem” the politics in and of the prophetic text demonstrates a certain scholarly ill-​ease at the partnership between the two.

Ezekiel and Politics    219 But what do we mean by “politics”? While as a discipline we have inched toward a working definition of prophecy, definitions and understandings of “politics” or the “political” have proliferated in recent decades (Hammer 2009). For the purpose of the present discussion, my understanding of “politics” will be nothing more or less than a first millennium, Levantine gloss on the Platonic ideal—​politics is that which concerns the state. In doing so, I define politics with Mark W. Hamilton as being 1) the operations of the state and its functionaries as they undertake the responsibilities of its administration, 2) the structures and practices of individuals embedded in the apparatus of the state, and 3) the intellectual reflection either underlying or reflecting upon the behaviors of the various strata of leadership in society (Hamilton 2018). To adopt a traditional definition of politics is not to side-​line more radical understandings that see politics as a field of activity at work in all aspects of life (Leftwich 2004). We remain forever indebted to Robert Carroll and his Jamieson-​ inspired reminder that all prophetic texts and readings of them are fundamentally political (Carroll 1989). Beyond this cautionary appeal that some may feel is too broad to be useful, widening the discourse of politics allows one to view the text from a series of different angles. At the very least it casts light on the politics behind a text like Ezekiel (Pohlmann 1992; Rom-​Shiloni 2013) and even the politics after it (Boyer 1992; Dashke 2010; Mein 2013). All are valid ways of reading and addressed in different ways in the current volume. I take it as my remit, however, to explore politics within the text itself. One caveat remains. We must acknowledge that there is no functional differentiation in the ancient Near East between religion and politics however much scholars would like to assume that our biblical theologians are somehow above politics. When a state and its bureaucracy is considered the mirror image of a divine prototype as it was throughout the ancient Near East, there is no functional separation of “church” and “state.” This symbiotic relationship will manifest itself differently between different texts and genres, placing the responsibility on us not to over-​categorise for the sake of hermeneutical simplicity. An oracle against false prophecy or priestly misconduct, be it in Ezekiel or elsewhere, is as much political as it is religious. Therefore, we must understand that the political discussion will not simply be on the ins and outs of political history as they may or may not be related in various prophetic book, but will extend to that even more fundamental question of how a city, people, or nation relates to its God(s).

2.  Ezekiel on Politics Even though the book lacks “prophet-​about-​court” scenes common to Isaiah and Jeremiah (e.g. Isa 7; 36–​37; Jer 27–​29, 34), Ezekiel reflects at length on the nation’s political present, past, and future.

220   Madhavi Nevader

2.1  Political Givens It is common to associate the three major prophets with different theological worldviews—​Isaiah with Zion Theology, Jeremiah with the Deuteronomic School, and Ezekiel with the Priestly School—​and from them evaluate the political outlook of each book. Such theological partitioning is only so helpful and often pre-​determines the interpretation of the textual data. The starting point of any discussion should be a book’s political givens, which for Ezekiel pivot around a largely traditional city-​state theology. 1. Yhwh, gendered male, is the nation’s male God, whom he came to know as either a people (Ezek 20) or as the children of his wife, Jerusalem (Ezek 16; 23), and is, therefore, the God to whom the state owes sole allegiance, as a wife owes allegiance to a husband. 2. Yhwh resides with his nation and city in a temple in Jerusalem. Doing so protects the city and allows it to flourish. In abandoning it (Ezek 10–​11), Yhwh has left the city vulnerable to the destructive forces that he will immanently bring against it. 3. Society is fundamentally ordered around the principles of justice. All of society’s constituent parts are obliged to uphold and live according to justice, thus creating a complex network of social accountability. At its most simple, this accountability is that of the nation to Yhwh. But even at the granulated level of society, various members are accountable to one another in order to ensure that justice prevails and cosmic order is maintained. 4. This ordered society is royally structured in as much as a Judean king stands at its pinnacle (e.g., Ezek 7:26–​27) with responsibilities for those under his care. It would be a mistake to classify any one of these political givens as “Priestly.” Where priestly elements undoubtedly appear is at the specific level of language (e.g., “abomination,” “violence”), but they do not come to determine the nature of state theology that the book takes as given. As such, where the book displays its most radical elements is not in the givens of its politics, but in the way in which it will come to turn those givens upside down.

2.2  The Political Present Much of Ezekiel’s concern is with the political present as it relates to domestic and international politics (Lang 1978; Mein 2001). The accusation at the domestic level is that of disorder, violence, and political self-​interest above and against the will of Yhwh. At the level of international politics, foreign kings stand accused of divine aspiration and misconstrued notions of sovereignty. Behavior at both levels serves to justify the actions taken by Yhwh, who stands in judgment against all political actors bar the king of Babylon.

Ezekiel and Politics    221

2.2.1  Domestic Politics The description of Jerusalem in the prophet’s present day is one of widespread societal disintegration: The princes of Israel in you, everyone according to his power, have been bent on shedding blood. Father and mother are treated with contempt in you; the alien residing within you suffers extortion; the orphan and the widow are wronged in you. You have despised my holy things, and profaned my sabbaths. In you are those who slander to shed blood, those in you who eat upon the mountains, who commit lewdness in your midst. In you they uncover their fathers’ nakedness; in you they violate women in their menstrual periods. One commits abomination with his neighbor’s wife; another lewdly defiles his daughter-​in-​law; another in you defiles his sister, his father’s daughter. In you, they take bribes to shed blood; you take both advance interest and accrued interest, and make gain of your neighbors by extortion; and you have forgotten me, says the Lord GOD. (Ezek 22:6–​12)

The accusations continue implicating the entire structure of political elite (Ezek 22:23–​ 30): princes (v. 25), priests (v. 26), officials (v. 27), prophets (v. 28), and people of the land (v. 29), who in this instance at least clearly refer to a group of (landed) elite. Because none of those who should take responsibility for the city and land have, Yhwh will destroy both (v. 30). Nothing in this makes Ezekiel’s complaint unique. It is common to describe the period leading up to any national crisis as dystopic anarchy (e.g. Isa 2:6–​9; 3:12, 14–​15; Jer 2:8; Mic 3:1–​4; Marduk Prophecy; Atra-​Hasis). Nor is it unique to implicate the political elite (cf. Isa 5:18–​24; Jer 6:13). The point of both is to demonstrate the systemic failure of the political system and the inevitability of catastrophic (often cosmic) judgement. The explicit textual allusions to the Holiness Code here in Ezek 22, far from limiting the criticism to “Priestly” (read “religious”) concerns, instead serve to finalise the political fate of the nation (Lyons 2009). As the Holiness Code warns, the behavior now normative within Judah and Jerusalem can lead only to one end, exile (Lev 26). The Apostate Temple Vision in Ezek 8 serves a similar purpose (Mein 2001). As the vision describes consecutively more offensive “abominations,” different groups of Jerusalem’s political elite appear: 70 elders (vv. 10–​11), women weeping for Tammuz (vv. 14–​15), and twenty-​five men worshipping the sun (v. 16). With each revealed misconduct, the inevitability of Yhwh’s departure from his sanctuary increases (cf. v. 6). It is interesting, then, that the last accusation of the tour does not involve a “cultic misdemeanor” at all, but one concerning the absence of social justice: Is it not bad enough that the house of Judah commits the abominations done here? Must they fill the land with violence, and provoke my anger still further? See, they are putting the branch to their nose! (Ezek 8:17)

222   Madhavi Nevader In abrogating its two responsibilities—​fidelity to Yhwh, on the one hand, and a commitment to social justice, on the other—​Jerusalem’s elite have condemned the city and its inhabitants to death (Ezek 9). Apart from the denunciation of false and illicit forms of prophecy in Ezek 13–​14, monarchy is the only institution that receives repeated criticism in Ezekiel (Ezek 17; 19; 21; 22; 34; 43; see Block 2010; Duguid 1994; and Joyce 1998 for passage-​by-​passage discussions of the book’s “kingship texts”). It begins in Ezek 17 with an extended allegory (vv. 3–​10) and interpretation (vv. 11–​16) of the two decades of Judean political history leading up to the disastrous dealings of Zedekiah with Egypt against Babylon (cf. 2 Kgs 24). The object lesson culminates in Yhwh chastising Zedekiah (here nameless as he is throughout the book; see §3.1 below) for turning to Egypt for military aid and in so doing breaking his oath and covenant with the king of Babylon. In this criticism, the passage is, again, hardly exceptional. The political dalliance of Judahite kings with Egypt and Babylon (earlier Assyria) is a recurring topic of prophetic consternation (e.g., Isa 31:1; Jer 2:18; 27:8–​9). But Ezekiel gives the well-​worn trope a heightened subtext by making the covenant broken with Nebuchadnezzar (Ezek 17:16) one broken also with Yhwh (Ezek 17:19). On this basis, many argue that Ezekiel‘s ire is theological rather than political. Ronald M. Hals, for example, writes that “For him [the prophet] the wrong of anti-​Babylonian alliances is not political, but theological” (Hals 1989, 117). Our earlier conversation regarding religion and politics aside, there is little justification for this position. Covenants broken between parties are covenants broken between the gods in whose name they are sworn. Ezekiel is simply giving voice to the traditional underpinnings of Near East political deal making. Regardless, Zedekiah’s actions amount to treason against king (Nebuchadnezzar) and God, and for it, Yhwh promises to bring him enslaved to Babylon for judgement (Ezek 17:20). Beyond the crime of inappropriate political posturing, the book elsewhere accuses Judah’s rulers of excessive injustice and violence. Both are the topic of a poem aimed at the crown in Ezek 19 and the aforementioned tirade against city and land in Ezek 22. Ezek 19 exploits the association of kings and lions to accuse two of Judah’s three final rulers of bloodshed, violence, and mayhem (Ezek 19:3, 6). Ezek 22 follows suit, reproaching the “princes” more generally of bloodshed (Ezek 22:6, 24), self-​interest (Ezek 22:6), and extortion (Ezek 22:24). The criticism is vague, but severe. Bloodshed is the most egregious crime that an individual can commit, even more so when it comes at the hand of those whose responsibility it is to act as guardians of the realm. Ezek 34:1–​10, in which Yhwh rails against the inadequacy of the “shepherds of Israel,” is the most sustained critique of the political institution (Mein 2007). The plural subject of the poem leaves open the possibility that the passage is addressed to the entire political elite of Judean society, but the ubiquity of the metaphor SHEPHERD IS KING makes a royal subject more likely. Here they stand accused of feeding themselves, when their responsibility ought to have been to feed the sheep in their care (vv. 2–​3). Nor have they looked after the injured or sought out the stray or lost sheep. Instead, they have ruled with force and harshness (v. 4). Directly on account of this bad behavior, Yhwh’s sheep were scattered and became prey for wild animals without a shepherd to search or

Ezekiel and Politics    223 seek for them (v. 6). At its most basic the accusation is that Judah’s shepherds have not acted as shepherds at all and have consequently caused the dispersal of Yhwh’s fold. Ezek 34, most certainly written on the far side of the Babylonian exile (Lyons 2017), is the closest the book comes to a direct correlation between royal action and the catastrophe of 586 BCE.

2.2.2  International Politics The political concerns of the book are not confined to domestic affairs. The scenario of Ezek 17 demonstrates that international politics are just as important in the book, which we can see in the treatment of Babylon and the treatment of other foreign powers in the Oracles Against the Nations (Ezek 25–​33). The book takes an interesting stance on Babylon and its king, Nebuchadnezzar II (referred throughout as Nebuchadrezzar [Ezek 26:7; 29:18; 30:10]). Unlike Isaiah and Jeremiah, there is no oracle against Babylon in the book despite arguments to the contrary (Galambush 2006; Strine 2014). Further, Nebuchadnezzar as king of Babylon is presented throughout as the legitimate agent of Yhwh (e.g., Ezek 21:23–​28 [ET 18–​23]; 30:10). Moreover, in contrast to other prophetic texts where a foreign agent of destruction is condemned once divinely used (e.g., Isa 14; Jer 50–​51), Nebuchadnezzar never comes in for such criticism. Though his punishment of Judah is horrifying, it is reciprocal to the horror of the nation’s own domestic actions. In this way, Nebuchadnezzar is presented as the obedient (if unwitting) agent of divine wrath (Ezek 21:29–​32 [ET 25–​27]). The book’s interest in the appropriate exercise of political power continues into the second significant section of the book, the Oracles Against the Nations (OAN) (Ezek 25–​32). In the opening series, the Levantine nations are variously accused of taking advantage of or revelling in Judah’s fate (Ezek 25:3, 6, 8, 12, 15). Whereas the nations ought to have been horrified, perhaps even stunned into a sort of Joban silence by Yhwh’s dealings with his nation, they instead gloated and used its end for individual gain. Each oracle ends with an iteration of the book’s distinct recognition formula (“then you/​they will know that I am Yhwh” [e.g., Ezek 25:7, 11, 17]), making clear that the punishment meted out against each nation serves to elicit a recognition that Yhwh is the power behind all historical events as they unfold. Beyond the specifics of the crime, the political complaint is not dissimilar to that leveled against Judah: the nations’ actions realign negotiations of power and sovereignty away from Yhwh. Ezekiel’s OAN have structural and thematic overlap with other collections in the prophetic corpus, but the five oracles aimed explicitly against the king of Tyre and Pharaoh stand out (Ezek 28:11–​19; 29:1–​16; 30:20-​26; 31:1–​18; 32:1–​16). The outcome of each “royal” oracle is identical: Yhwh consigns the foreign royal figure to an ignominious place in the underworld (Ezek 28:8, 18; 32:17–​21), but not before a significant battle of claim and counterclaims to political sovereignty, and in at least one instance a battle between Yhwh and Pharaoh of cosmic proportions (Lewis 1996; Crouch 2011; Marzouk 2015). Both kings could rightly be accused of acting against Babylon and hence Yhwh on the international political stage (cf. Jer 27:8). It is interesting, however,

224   Madhavi Nevader that this is not the accusation leveled. Rather, each royal subject stands accused of voicing hyperbolic iterations of royal theology and misconstruing royal power for divine status (Nevader 2015b).

2.3  The Political Past While most of the first twenty-​four chapters of the book are concerned to demonstrate why the current generation is responsible for Jerusalem’s fall, the historical rehearsals in Ezek 16, 20, and 23 serve to contextualize the present by looking to the past. All three deliver the same indictment: Jerusalem’s present is but the latest iteration of a long-​ standing tendency toward disloyalty and apostasy. For the topic at hand, what stands out in these three chapters is just how muted they are on the topic of politics. All three are extended musings on Israelite and Judahite political history, and as such many claim that this is where we see Ezekiel’s clearest reflection on international politics (e.g., Peterson 2013). And yet, the language of politics is largely missing from the retelling of the nation’s past. Ezek 16 and 23 undoubtedly relay the various political dealings of Jerusalem and Samaria with the Near Eastern empires of the first millennium, but with Yhwh as cuckold, Jerusalem as whorish wife, and the nations as her lovers, the perverse marriage metaphor dominates throughout (Galambush 1992; Kamionkowki 2003). Similarly, while Ezek 20 appears to follow a more explicit political standard in rehearsing the covenantal history of Israel and Yhwh from Egypt to the book’s present, “covenant” itself appears only once (Ezek 20:37) and is oblique at best, textually secondary at worst. Ezekiel’s revisionist history is all the more interesting because Ezek 16 and 23 at least seem to have no awareness of Judah (Jerusalem) and Israel (Samaria) having ever been united. Theirs is a relationship of sisters, but they are never one and the same. Of equal interest, from all of these retellings, the Judahite/​Israelite monarchy is notably absent. The political memory that the book creates is one in which Jerusalem had no history of monarchy to speak of. Of course, this is blatantly untrue. It is curious then that in accounting for the past, the book’s authors have chosen to stay silent on the royal institution and the political history of the nation. Indeed, if the “statutes that were not good and ordinances by which they could not live” mentioned in Ezek 20:25 include Deuteronomy’s “Law of the King” (Deut 17:14–​20) (as canonically they currently do!), then kingship, like child-​sacrifice, was divinely legislated specifically for the purpose of defiling the nation.

2.4  The Political Future All prophetic books in our corpus that narrate the end of the nation (be it Israel or Judah) now include musings on political restoration. In some instances, the musing is but a few verses (e.g., Amos 9:11–​15). In others, the discussion is sustained over twenty-​seven

Ezekiel and Politics    225 chapters (e.g., Isa 40–​66). All involve the monarchy (Bedford 2001; Laato 1997). With promises or visions of royal restoration in Ezek 17, 34, 37, and 40–​48, Ezekiel is broadly in line with the corpus. A closer examination of the passages, however, reveal two considerably different articulations of restoration, both of which nonetheless pivot on basic (re)configurations of political power.

2.4.1  David In speaking to the nature of national restoration, Yhwh promises in both Ezek 34 and 37 that David will rule over the restored nation, which in Ezek 37 is united for the first time in the book (Ezek 37:15–​22). Ezek 34 announces that after the great ingathering of Israel, David will be a divinely appointed shepherd to look after Yhwh’s traumatized sheep and help to reestablish the relationship between God and people: “I will be their God and my servant David will be prince among them” (Ezek 34:24). In Ezek 37, most likely the earlier text (Nihan 2017), the picture of David fills out: My servant David shall be king over them; and they shall all have one shepherd. They shall follow my ordinances and be careful to observe my statutes. They shall live in the land that I gave to my servant Jacob, in which your ancestors lived; they and their children and their children’s children shall live there forever; and my servant David shall be their prince forever. (Ezek 37:24–​25)

Here too the constellation of royal language describing David is robust: he will be king, shepherd, and prince, and his reign will be eternal (le‘ôlām). Both passages form the backbone of what some consider the book’s messianic hope (e.g., Block 1995; Sedlmeier 2017). But for all that the two passages fit the basic mould of royal restoration, they nonetheless contain a number of anomalies. First, neither passage promises the return of David or his scion (e.g., Isa 9:7; 11:2; 16:5; Jer 17:25; 23:5; 33:15–​17; Amos 9:11). Both speak of the arrival of David himself (cf. Jer 30:9; Hos 3:5) and in so doing are the only passages in the entire book to refer implicitly or explicitly to the Arthurian figure. Second, even though the constellation of language is royal (e.g., “servant”; “shepherd”), the term used most frequently is “prince,” not “king” (see §3.1 below). Third, in describing David’s princely reign as eternal (Ezek 37:25), the passage adopts an eschatological, political posture that is otherwise absent from the remainder of the book. Finally, regardless of what function David will come to serve in the promised future, he is eclipsed on both sides of restoration by Yhwh as primary actor, first as shepherd (Ezek 34:11–​22) and then as royal restorer (Ezek 34:25–​31; 37:26–​28).

2.4.2  The Temple Vision (Ezek 40–​48) The book concludes with a magnificent vision of Yhwh’s temple and land restored. Its precision and measurements are not for the faint hearted, but through the details of its narration, it rebuilds the nation and its temple in the mind of the reader cubit by cubit (Konkel 2001; Liss 2006). At its most simple, the vision is an extended musing on what it

226   Madhavi Nevader means for Yhwh to live again among his people as he promised in earlier sections of the book (Ezek 17:22–​24; 20:40–​42; 37:26–​28). Despite this simple premise, the vision radically reorients the structure of the nation and its relationship to the temple at its centre. Most obviously, the temple and the city are separated from one another (Ezek 40:2). Though the twelve-​gated city is contained within the square holy portion that houses Yhwh’s temple (Ezek 45:1–​6; 48:15–​20), it is significantly distanced from the temple and no longer functions as the buffer around the divine abode. With temple removed and palace entirely absent, the city belongs to the tribes of Israel, who share it in equal measure. Perhaps more drastic still, the city is not named Jerusalem (Ezek 48:35) and, according to the division of land into strips equal in width (Ezek 48:8), does not geographically map on to where Jerusalem ought to be. This is not Zion restored! The nation has changed from a city-​state to a temple-​state. But a state it certainly is, not least because of the centrality of the vision’s prince. Like that surrounding David in Ezek 34 and 37, however, there is complexity to the presentation of the prince, whose role and status changes based on the vantage point from which one views him. On the one hand, he is presented as a sole figure against the otherwise flat and totalizing presentation of restored Israel (Nihan 2015). He is given a special land allocation (Ezek 45:7–​8) with ability to gift it to his sons (Ezek 46:16–​18). He is the primary temple provider (Ezek 45:13–​17; 46:13–​15) and enjoys unique access to areas of the temple during sacrificial offerings (Ezek 46:4–​8; Odell 2010). He is the temple guide for all Israel when the gates are opened and the nation is allowed to enter the temple (Ezek 46:9–​11). And he alone is able to enter the temple’s closed outer east gate in order to eat a meal (Ezek 44:3; Wright 2002). On the other, the figure is referred to throughout as “prince,” never as “king” and certainly never as David. He is without tribal association, disconnected in physical space and social location from the royal tribes of Judah or Benjamin, themselves also dissociated from their traditional land being repositioned north and south of the Holy Portion, respectively (Ez 48:7–​8, 23). Unlike traditional royal figures, the temple is not the prince’s to traverse freely as royal chapel and he has no role in the sacrificial cult (cf. 1 Kgs 9:25) even if some have argued to the contrary (Nihan 2015; Odell 2010). Finally, the separation of his land and that of the temple severs the ideological and monumental connection between monarchy and temple (Stevenson 1996; Whitelam 1986). Scholarship is divided on the Temple Vision’s prince with explanations largely pivoting on how a given scholar parses out or assigns value to the above complexity. Some read the prince positively, specifically because he is deemed apolitical (e.g., Block 1995; Levenson 1976). Others find that the positives outweigh the negatives and thus read him as a traditional (albeit eccentric) royal figure (e.g., Konkel 2001; Odell 2010; Wright 2002). For others, the negatives are the victors (e.g., Bodi 2001; Joyce 1998; Nevader 2015a; Stevenson 1996), famously leading Jonathan Z. Smith to evaluate the prince as a “mock king as in some saturnalial role reversal” (Smith 1987, 61). Others still suggest that the complexity of the prince is a measured compromise and reflects the historical realities of the Persian period (Nihan 2015; Tuell 1992). Regardless of the scholarly position taken, after the cubit-​by-​cubit description of the temple layout, the prince takes up the most narrative time in the Temple Vision, demonstrating without question the

Ezekiel and Politics    227 extent to which this vision of restoration is politically oriented and interested in the future of human rule (see §3.2).

2.4.3  Palimpsestic Restoration Determining the relationship between the book’s two visions of the future is less straightforward. Most would simply argue that the two perspectives come from different hands—​one or all the passages being later additions to the book. Hoping to defend the book’s unity, Daniel I. Block suggests that there is nothing incompatible between the two. Whatever difference exists is merely the result of genre distinction: Ezek 34 and 37 are “historical,” and Ezek 40–​48 is “symbolic” (Block 1995). Both explanations, however, are wanting. Genre cannot turn Ezek 34 and 37’s David into the Temple Vision’s prince or vice versa. Nor does crying “Redaction!” help to explain why we have such radically different visions of the future side by side.1 Ian D. Wilson has argued that the book’s multiple and contrasting presentations of the future are intentional (Wilson 2017). Wilson leaves the question of single or multiple authorship to one side and locates the book within the reading world of those post-​ monarchic literati responsible for the final form(s) of the book. For them, one strategy to address conflicted topics such as David is to include a “matrix of images that inform and balance one another, both blatantly disagreeing with and complementing each other” (Wilson 2017, 216). Textual multivocality thus allows the past to remain true, all the while keeping alive and viable a number of uncertain royal futures. With Wilson’s explanation I am reminded again of Robert Carroll, who challenged us to see the major prophetic books as palimpsests of multiple discourses (Carroll 2001). For Ezekiel, one of these discourses is undeniably the future of monarchy. If pushed, it looks to me that Ezek 34 and 37 act as the later corrective to Ezek 40–​48, dragging the Temple Vision (and perhaps even the book) into the larger biblical story of restoration. As the book now stands, however, both utopian futures remain in play.

3.  The Politics of Ezekiel Thus far we have been looking at how the book evaluates iterations of political power and action. If this was broadly a discussion of Ezekiel on politics, a further question remains: what is the politics of the book itself? To sketch out the beginnings of an answer, I will turn finally to three larger topics that have thus far been absent from our discussion: the political language of the book, its notion of political rule, and how we might classify the book’s concentrated political deliberations.

3.1  Political Language The ongoing use and subversion of political language in the book serves to devalue human manifestations of rule and promote the political sovereignty of Yhwh. This is

228   Madhavi Nevader immediately on display in the book’s unique use of royal terminology, but also in its use of Near Eastern sovereignty topoi and the manner in which it plays with royal metaphors. Ezekiel stands out in its peculiar royal terminology. Instead of the tradition royal term melek (“king”), the book uses the term nāśī’ (“prince”) for Judah’s rulers (Ezek 7:27; 12:10, 12; 19:1; 21:17 [ET 12], 30 [ET 25]; 22:6; et. al.), as it does for the rulers of other smaller kingdoms (e.g., Ezek 26:16; 27:21; 28:2; 31:11; 32:29, 30; 38:2, 3; 39:1, 18). “King”/​melek, by contrast, is reserved for foreign, imperial kings, specifically those of Babylon and Egypt (Ezek 17:12, 16; 19:9; 20:33; 21:19, 21; 24:2; 26:7; et. al.). Exceptions exist, of course (most notably the sole reference to David as melek Ezek 37:11). None, however, are so glaring that they detract from the terminological peculiarity. But why the distinction? Some argue that the term recalls the apolitical, pre-​state ideal to which the book seeks to revert (e.g., Cook 2017; Duguid 1994; Levenson 1976). Common too is to suggest that the author(s) chose nāśī’ because of its putative connotation. For Ashely Crane, this is the “spiritual” and “moral” connotation of nāśī’ over the more “militaristically” coded melek (Crane 2008). For Block, it is the implied vassal status of nāśī’ as opposed to the “independence” and “arrogance” of melek (Block 2010). Unfortunately, all are speculative to one extent or another and fail to account for the non-​Judahite references in the book. What we can cautiously say is that by choosing a term that does not bestow full monarchic status on Judah’s kings real or imagined, past, present, or future, the book destabilises the foundations of traditional royal power. Furthermore, with the consignment of all kings to the Underworld or defeated in battle (Ezek 32:18–​32; 39:1–​20), by the end of the book there is no human figure to claim the title melek. The book further destabilises royal power through its use of sovereignty topoi. More than any of its canonical compatriots, Ezekiel is saturated in Mesopotamian political language and mythological motifs (e.g., Rom-​Shiloni and Carvalho 2015; Winitzer 2014). The book uses cosmological language throughout to describe the manner in which Yhwh interacts with royal figures (Crouch 2011), presenting Yhwh as an agent of order and his royal enemies as agents of chaos (Strine and Crouch 2013). Some have even argued that sections of the book reflect larger sovereignty tropes: for example, that Ezek 38–​48 is structured as a Chaoskampf text, following the classic pattern of divine battle–​victory–​establishment of cosmic order (Niditch 1986; cf. Strine 2014 for a similar structure in Ezek 38–​39); or that Ezek 40–​48 is closest in genre and form to Mesopotamian royal building inscriptions (Odell 2000). With such a full range of mythological intertexts, there is always a danger of overstating the book’s reliance on or engagement with Babylonian traditions (Stökl, 2017). Nevertheless, while the book undeniably uses the divine combat trope for a “theological” end to defend Yhwh against claims of divine impotency, it remains interesting just how pervasive traditions rooted in discussions of political sovereignty elsewhere in the Near East are within the book, and, moreover, that the figure consistently presented as Yhwh’s adversary is an earthly king. With Yhwh consistently taking up the role usually reserved for the just (human) king, the book appears to use the rhetoric of political sovereignty over and over again to subvert human manifestations of it (Nevader 2015b).

Ezekiel and Politics    229 One final element of the book’s political language is the manner in which it engages royal metaphor. Ezekiel is indeed a masterful “maker of metaphors” (cf. Newsom 1984), with an extensive range of metaphors in play throughout the book. Of these, three have a rich political hinterland as metaphors commonly associated with kingship. Most obvious is the metaphor of the lion, which can code positively or negatively depending on context (Strawn 2005). It is most often associated positively with kingship (Cassin 1981; cf. Ezek 32:2), but the play in Ezekiel destabilizes the royal metaphor by using it entirely to describe the voracious violence of Judah’s kings (Ezek 19:1–​9; 22:25). The eagle metaphor on which the allegory of Ezek 17 turns is also closely associated with kingship (Chan 2010). Instead of subverting the metaphor, here Yhwh co-​opts it to show that he is ultimately the superior king and king maker (Ezek 17:22–​24). The tree/​cedar metaphor serves a similar purpose (Osborne 2017). In Ezek 17, trees clearly figure kings (Ezek 17:23–​24). Beyond this, the allegory is openly playing with the Mesopotamian topos in which kings travelled to and felled cedars of Lebanon to make a name for themselves (Richter 2002). But Ezek 31 is the richest play on CEDAR IS KING. Here Yhwh acts as gardener (yet another royal metaphor; Hutter 1986) and fells “Assyria, a cedar of Lebanon” (Ezek 31:2) because of its arrogance (Ezek 31:10–​12). Through the oracle’s object lesson, the metaphor receives a mortal blow. “All this in order that no trees by the waters may grow to lofty height or set their tops among the clouds” (Ezek 31:14). With the felling of the king as cedar, Yhwh has neither subverted nor co-​opted the royal metaphor, but arguably felled kingship itself.

3.2  Nature of Rule: Human and Divine Given its sustained interest in the manifestations of royal rule, one begins to wonder whether the book is engaged in a larger discussion altogether. One not simply about a future messiah or the hubris of kings, but with the very nature of rule itself. Let us begin with Yhwh. At the end of the Unheilsgeschichte of Ezek 20, Yhwh declares: “ . . . surely with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, and with wrath poured out, I will be king over you” (Ezek 20:33). Though Yhwh’s assumption to kingship in Ezek 20 is a manifestation of judgment, the image takes a positive turn when Yhwh becomes the benevolent royal shepherd (Ezek 34) and returns victorious to take up his terrestrial throne once again (Ezek 43). Beyond this, it has become clear that Yhwh also engages in various battles of royal language with those human figures who traditionally lay claim to them. Inverting or co-​opting royal metaphors, consigning all royal claimants to the Underworld, or destabilising iterations of royal theology, Yhwh comes to subsume all aspects of royal authority that he strips away from any and all earthly political actors over the course of the book. Even in restoration, the human ruling figure appears crippled, lacking any of the attendant manifestations of political sovereignty. The book’s radical theocentricity (Goshen-​Gottstein 1982; Joyce 1989) is often drawn into the discussion to account for the shift in political authority from the earthly to the divine realm. Block, for example, maintains that “Ezekiel’s problem is not with the

230   Madhavi Nevader monarchic institution in principle, but with the way those who have sat on the throne of David have exercised their power” (Block 2010, 212–​213), having “historically acted contrary to the divine will (Deut 17:14–​20), and ‘done evil in the eyes of Yhwh’ . . . Within his theocratic perspective, Yhwh is Israel’s real king, and the occupants of the throne, the descendants of David, are his vassals” (Block 2010, 213). Christophe Nihan makes a similar observation concerning the future prince, though he prefers the notion of divine imperialism (Nihan 2015). The reconceptualization of the prince in Ezek 40–​48 “is not so much about de-​emphasizing royalty than it is about renegotiating royalty in order to maintain the place of this institution within a utopia of divine imperialism” (Nihan 2015, 240). Neither position is quite right. In reading the book’s stance on monarchy through Mosaic and Davidic covenants that are entirely absent from Ezekiel, Block rounds the angular nature of the book’s critique of earthly rule. Perhaps more fundamental still, it is not clear why either radical theocentricism or divine imperialism necessitates that Yhwh reign as absolute sovereign to the exclusion of a human representative. The interaction between Yhwh and Cyrus in Isa 40–​55 demonstrates with ease that (divine) imperialism and “high” royal theology are not mutually exclusive (Isa 44:24–​45:7; cf. Ps 2; Roberts 2001), as we well know from the multifarious nature of royal theology produced by the emperors and vassal kings of the first millennium BCE. So communal mediator Ezekiel’s ideal human leader may be (Block 1995; Nihan 2015), but stripped as he is of the sanctity of kingship, he is little more than a mundane shadow of the royal ideal. As such, we witness a slow shift in Ezekiel not dissimilar to that across the Psalter (Wilson 2005) away from human rule to that of divine rule. Unlike in the Psalter, where the ideal king quietly fades into obscurity, the radical divine sovereignty of Ezekiel is won by directly engaging and subverting the notion of human rule.

3.3  Politics between Theology and Theory Over the last decade or so, there has been a concerted effort to bring the Hebrew Bible into larger discussions of ancient political philosophy/​theory and to assess what, if any­ thing, the Bible’s contribution might be (e.g., Berman 2008; Brett 2019; Hazony 2012; Miller 2011; Walzer 2012). Rarely do such investigations venture into the prophetic literature (cf. Brett 2019), and certainly never into Ezekiel, where discussions of the book’s possible political deliberations still remain at the level of its “rhetoric” (e.g., Clark 2014; Stevenson 1996). Many claim that one reason for leaving prophetic literature, as well as the Bible as a whole, on the side lines of the discussion is precisely because neither offer anything systematic on the question of politics. Typical of political deliberation within the wider Near East, biblical texts are full of political ideas, but for “political theory” we must turn west and wait for Plato. As Anthony Black notes, political thought in the Near East:

Ezekiel and Politics    231 . . . took the form of what we would call political propaganda or political ideology: the attempt to justify the authority of those at the top, to explain why they should be at the top, why things should be as they now are; and to persuade people to assume certain attitudes towards each other and towards those in power or of superior wealth. “Political theory” in the sense of an argued case for certain arrangements came somewhat later. (Black 2016, 14–​15)

Finding a middle ground between preacher and philosopher cannot be my concern here. It is interesting, though, the extent to which Ezekiel fits both of Black’s categories. On the one hand, our discussion has clearly shown that the book attempts to justify the authority of Yhwh, to explain why Yhwh should be not only Israel’s only God, but its only king, why both the present and the future should be as they are, and indeed to persuade its audience to assume certain attitudes toward one another and toward Yhwh as sovereign. We call this “theology” by habit, but it is unequivocally political ideology as well. On the other, Ezekiel goes some way to fulfil Black’s definition of “political theory” as well. Here, I would suggest, is where Ezek 40–​48 comes into its own. We still cannot read the vision as a blueprint for restoration (pace Strong 2012), but its meticulous description and mapping out of Israel’s restored existence, as well as its delineation of political power, are as close to “an argued case for certain (political) arrangements” as I read in the Hebrew Bible.

4.  Conclusion According to Michael Walzer, “The biblical writers are engaged with politics, but they are in an important sense . . . not very interested in politics” (Walzer 2012, xii). While this may be the case for some, it is blatantly not so for those responsible for the book of Ezekiel. Politics is integral to the book, which makes a sustained argument for the radical political sovereignty of Yhwh over all other claims to power. The book’s radical sovereignty comes at a price. Though its visions of future restoration include a human leader, the book strips the figure of royal standing and its attendant sacrality. Be this as it may, Ezekiel remains a rich resource for the creation and development of political thought in the Hebrew Bible.

Note 1. P 967 resolves the problem by (re-​)arranging the early restoration chapters. With the chapter order 38-​39-​37, the Temple Vision carries on directly from the promise of David and the restoration of the land. Be this as it may, the LXX tradition remains more agnostic on the royal figures of restoration than MT; cf. Johan Lust, “Major Divergences between LXX and MT in Ezekiel,” in The Earliest Text of the Hebrew Bible: The Relationship between

232   Madhavi Nevader the Masoretic Text and the Hebrew Base of the Septuagint Reconsidered, edited by Adrain Schenker (Society of Biblical Literature Septuagint and Cognate Studies 52. Leiden: Brill, 2003), 83–​92; F. Raurell, “The Polemical Role of the ΑΡΧΟΝΤΕΣ and ΑΦΗΓΟΨΜΕΝΟΙ in Ez LXX,” in Ezekiel and His Book: Textual and Literary Criticism and their Interrelation, edited by J. Lust (Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium 74; Leuven: Leuven University Press and Peeters, 1986), 85–​89.

Bibliography Bedford, Peter R., Temple Restoration in Early Achaemenid Judah. Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 65. Leiden: Brill, 2001. Berman, Joshua. Created Equal: How the Bible Broke with Ancient Political Thought. New York: Oxford University Press, 2008. Black, Antony. A World History of Ancient Political Thought: Its Significance and Consequences. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016. Block, Daniel I. “Bringing Back David: Ezekiel’s Messianic Hope.” In The Lord’s Anointed: Interpretation of Old Testament Messianic Texts, edited by Richard S. Hess, P. E. Satterthwaite, and Gordon J. Wenham, 167–​188. Tyndale House Studies. Carlisle: Paternoster Press, 1995. Block, Daniel I. “Transformation of Royal Ideology in Ezekiel.” In Transforming Visions: Transformations of Text, Tradition, and Theology in Ezekiel, edited by William A. Tooman and Michael A. Lyons, 208–​246. Princeton Theological Monography Series 127. Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications, 2010. Bodi, Daniel. “Le prophète critique la monarchie: Le terme nāśī’ chez Ézéchiel.” In Prophètes et rois: Bible et Proche-​Orient, edited by Andre Lemaire, 249–​257. Paris: Les Èditions du Cerf, 2001. Boyer, Paul. When Time Shall Be No More: Prophecy Belief in Modern American Culture. Cambridge, MA.: Harvard University Press, 1992. Brett, Mark G. Locations of God: Political Theology in the Hebrew Bible. New York: Oxford University Press, 2019. Carroll, Robert P. “Prophecy and Society.” In The World of Ancient Israel: Sociological, Anthropological and Political Perspectives, edited by Ronald E. Clements, 203–​ 226. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989. Carroll, Robert P. “City of Chaos, City of Stone, City of Flesh: Urbanscapes in Prophetic Discourse.” In “Every City Shall Be Forsaken”: Urbanism and Prophecy in Ancient Israel and the Near East, edited by Lester L. Grabbe and Robert D. Haak, 45–​61. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 330. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001. Cassin, Elena. “Le roi et le lion.” Revue de l’Histoire des Religions 198 (1981): 353–​401. Chan, Michael J. “Cyrus, Yhwh’s Bird of Prey (Isa. 46.11): Echoes of an Ancient Near Eastern Metaphor.” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 35 (2010): 113–​127. Clark, Terry R. “I Will Be King over You!” The Rhetoric of Divine Kingship in the Book of Ezekiel. Gorgias Biblical Studies 59. Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2014. Cook, Stephen L. “Ezekiel’s Recovery of Premonarchic, Tribal Israel.” In Ezekiel: Current Debates and Future Directions, edited by William A. Tooman and Penelope Barter, 360-​73. Forschungen zum Altern Testament 112. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017. Crane, Ashley S. Israel’s Restoration: A Textual-​Comparative Exploration of Ezekiel 36-​39. Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 122. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2008.

Ezekiel and Politics    233 Crouch, C. L. “Ezekiel’s Oracles against the Nations in Light of a Royal Ideology of Warfare.” Journal of Biblical Literature 130 (2011): 473–​492. Dashke, Dereck. “’A Destroyer Will Come Against Babylon’: George W. Bush’s Oracles Against the Nations.” In A Cry Instead of Justice: The Bible and Cultures of Violence in Psychological Perspective, edited by Dereck Daschke and Andrew Kille, 156–​181. Library of Hebrew Bible/​ Old Testament Studies 499. London/​New York: T&T Clark, 2010. Duguid, Ian M., Ezekiel and the Leaders of Israel. Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 56. Leiden: Brill, 1994. Galambush, Julie. Jerusalem in the Book of Ezekiel: The City as Yahweh’s Wife. Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series 130. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1992. Galambush, Julie. “Necessary Enemies: Nebuchadnezzar, Yhwh and Gog in Ezekiel 38-​39.” In Israel’s Prophets and Israel’s Past: Essays on the Relationship of Prophetic Texts and Israelite History in Honor of John H. Hayes, edited by Brad E. Kelle and Megan Bishop Moore, 254–​ 265. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 446. New York: T&T Clark, 2006. Goshen-​Gottstein, Moshe. “The Theocentric Motif in Ezekiel’s Prophecies.” In Studies of the Book of Ezekiel, edited by Yitshak Avishur, 69–​77. Jerusalem: Kiryat-​sefer, 1982. Hals, Ronald M. Ezekiel. The Forms of Old Testament Literature 19. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1989. Hamilton, Mark W. A Kingdom for a Stage: Political and Theological Reflection in the Hebrew Bible. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 116. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2018. Hammer, Dean. “What is Politics in the Ancient World?” In A Companion to Greek and Roman Political Thought, edited by Ryan K. Balot, 20–​36. Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 2009. Hazony, Yoram. The Philosophy of Hebrew Scripture. Cambridge/​New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012. Hutter, Manfred. “Adam als Gärtner und König [Gen 2.8,15].” Biblische Zeitschrift 30 (1986): 258–​262. Joyce, Paul M. Divine Initiative and Human Response in Ezekiel. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 51. Sheffield: JSOT, 1989. Joyce, Paul M. “King and Messiah in Ezekiel.” In King and Messiah in Israel and the Ancient Near East: Proceedings of the Oxford Old Testament Seminar, edited by John Day, 323–​337. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 270. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998. Kamionkowski, S. Tamar. Gender Reversal and Cosmic Chaos: A Study in the Book of Ezekiel. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 368. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003. Konkel, Michael. Architektonik des Heiligen: Studien zur zweiten Tempelvision Ezechiels (Ez 40-​ 48). Bonner biblische Beiträge 129. Berlin: Philo, 2001. Laato, Antti. A Star is Rising: The Historical Development of the Old Testament Royal Ideology and the Rise of the Jewish Messianic Expectations. University of South Florida International Studies in Formative Christianity and Judaism 5. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997. Lang, Bernhard. Kein Aufstand in Jerusalem: Die Politik des Propheten Ezechiel. Stuttgarter biblische Beiträge. Stuttgart: Verlag Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1978. Leftwich, Adrian. What is Politics? The Activity and its Study. Cambridge: Polity, 2004. Levenson, Jon D. Theology of the Program of Restoration of Ezekiel 40-​48. Harvard Semitic Monograph Series 10. Missoula, MT.: Fortress Press, 1976. Lewis, Theodore J. “CT 13.33-​34 and Ezekiel 32: Lion-​Dragon Myths.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 116 (1996): 28–​47.

234   Madhavi Nevader Liss, Hanna. “ ‘Describe the Temple to the House of Israel’: Preliminary Remarks on the Temple Vision in the Book of Ezekiel and the Question of the Fictionality in Priestly Literatures.” In Utopia and Dystopia in Prophetic Literature, edited by Ehud Ben Zvi, 122–​143. Publications of the Finnish Exegetical Society 92. Helsinki: The Finnish Exegetical Society in Helsinki/​ Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2006. Lyons, Michael. From Law to Prophecy: Ezekiel’s Use of the Holiness Code. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 507. New York: T&T Clark, 2009. Lyons, Michael A. “Extension and Allusion: The Composition of Ezekiel 34.” In Ezekiel: Current Debates and Future Directions, edited by William A. Tooman and Penelope Barter, 138–​152. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 112. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017. Lust, Johan. “Major Divergences between LXX and MT in Ezekiel.” In The Earliest Text of the Hebrew Bible: The Relationship between the Masoretic Text and the Hebrew Base of the Septuagint Reconsidered, edited by Adrain Schenker, 83–​92. Society of Biblical Literature Septuagint and Cognate Studies 52. Leiden: Brill, 2003. Marzouk, Safwat. Egypt as A Monster in the Book of Ezekiel. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 2/​76. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015. Mein, Andrew. Ezekiel and the Ethics of Exile. Old Testament Monographs. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001. Mein, Andrew. “Profitable and Unprofitable Shepherds: Economic and Theological Perspectives on Ezekiel 34.” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 31 (2007): 493–​504. Mein, Andrew, “The Armies of Gog, the Merchants of Tarshish, and the British Empire.” In In the Name of God: The Bible in Colonial Discourse of Empire, edited by C. L. Crouch and Jonathan Stökl, 133–​150. Biblical Interpretation Series. Leiden: Brill, 2013. Miller, Geoffrey P. The Ways of a King: Legal and Political Ideas in the Bible. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2011. Miller, Patrick D. “The Prophetic Critique of Kings.” Ex auditu 2 (1986): 82–​95. Reprinted in Patrick D. Miller, Israelite Religion and Biblical Theology: Collected Essays. 526–​547. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 267. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000. Nevader, Madhavi. “Picking Up the Pieces of the Little Prince: Refractions of Neo-​Babylonian Kingship Ideology in Ezekiel 40-​48?” In Exile and Return: The Babylonian Context, edited by Jonathan Stökl and Caroline Waerzeggers, 268–​291. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 478. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2015a. Nevader, Madhavi. “Yhwh and the Kings of Middle Earth: Royal Polemic in Ezekiel’s Oracles against the Nations.” In Concerning the Nations: Essays on the Oracles against the Nations in Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel, edited by Andrew Mein, Else K. Holt, and Hyun Chul Paul Kim, 161–​178. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 612. London: Bloomsbury, 2015b. Newsom, Carol A. “A Maker of Metaphors –​Ezekiel’s Oracles Against Tyre.” Interpretation 38 (1984): 151–​164. Niditch, Susan, “Ezekiel 40-​48 in a Visionary Context,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 48 (1986): 208–​224. Nihan, Christophe. “The nāśî’ and the Future of Royalty in Ezekiel.” In History, Memory, Hebrew Scriptures: A Festschrift for Ehud Ben Zvi, edited by Ian D. Wilson and Diana V. Edelman, 229–​246. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2015. Nihan, Christophe. “Ezekiel 34-​37 and Leviticus 26: A Reevaluation.” In Ezekiel: Current Debates and Future Directions, edited by William A. Tooman and Penelope Barter, 153–​178. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 112. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017.

Ezekiel and Politics    235 Nissinen, Martti. “The Socioreligious Role of the Neo-​Assyrian Prophets.” In Prophecy in Its Ancient Near Eastern Context: Mesopotamian, Biblical, and Arabian Perspectives, edited by Martii Nissinen, 89–​114. SBL Symposium Series 13. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000. Nissinen, Martti. “What Is Prophecy? An Ancient Near Eastern Perspective.” In Inspired Speech: Prophecy in the Ancient Near East in Honour of Herbert B. Huffmon, edited by John Kaltner and Louis Stulman, 17–​37. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 398. London/​New York: T & T Clark International, 2004. Nissinen, Martti. Ancient Prophecy: Near Eastern, Biblical, and Greek Perspectives. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017. Odell, Margaret S. “Genre and Persona in Ezekiel 24:15-​24.” In The Book of Ezekiel: Theological and Anthropological Perspectives, edited by Margaret S. Odell and John T. Strong, 195–​219. SBL Symposium Series 9. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000. Odell, Margaret S. “ ‘The Wall Is No More’: Temple Reform in Ezekiel 43:7-​9.” In From the Foundations to the Crenellations: Essays on Temple Building in the Ancient Near East and the Hebrew Bible, edited by Mark J. Boda and Jamie Novotny, 339–​356. Alter Orient und Altes Testament 366. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag, 2010. Osborne, William R. Trees and Kings: A Comparative Analysis of Tree Imagery in Israel’s Prophetic Tradition and the Ancient Near East. Bulletin for Biblical Research Supplement 18. University Park, PA: Eisenbrauns, 2017. Peterson, Brian. “Ezekiel’s Perspective of Israel’s History: Selective Revisionism?” In Prophets, Prophecy, and Ancient Israelite Historiography, edited by Mark J. Boda and Lissa M. Wray Beal, 295–​314. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2013. Peterson, David L. “Defining Prophecy and Prophetic Literature.” In Prophecy in Its Ancient Near Eastern Context: Mesopotamian, Biblical, and Arabian Perspectives, edited by Martii Nissinen, 33–​4 4. SBL Symposium Series 13. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000. Pohlmann, Karl-​Friedrich. Ezechielstudien: Zur Redaktionsgeschichte des Buches und zur Frage nach den ältesten Texten. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 202. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1992. Raurell, Frederic. “The Polemical Role of the ΑΡΧΟΝΤΕΣ and ΑΦΗΓΟΨΜΕΝΟΙ in Ez LXX.” In Ezekiel and His Book: Textual and Literary Criticism and Their Interrelation, edited by Johan Lust, 85–​89. Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium 74. Leuven: Leuven University Press and Peeters, 1986. Reimer, David J. “Isaiah and Politics.” In Interpreting Isaiah: Issues and Approaches, edited by David G. Firth and H. G. M. Williamson, 84–​103. Apollos, IVP Academic, 2009a. Reimer, David J. “Redeeming Politics in Jeremiah.” In Prophecy in the Book of Jeremiah, edited by Hans M. Barstad and Reinhard G. Kratz, 121–​136. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 388. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2009b. Reimer, David J. “The Prophet Micah and Political Society.” In Thus Speaks Ishtar of Arbela: Prophecy in Israel, Assyria, and Egypt in the Neo-​Assyrian Period, edited by Hans Barstad and Robert P. Gordon, 203–​224. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2013. Richter, Sandra L. The Deuteronomistic History and the Name Theology: lešakkēn šemō šam in the Bible and the Ancient Near East. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 318. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2002. Robert, J. J. M. “God’s Imperial Reign According to the Psalter.” Horizons in Biblical Theology 23 (2001): 211–​221.

236   Madhavi Nevader Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit. Exclusive Inclusivity: Identity Conflicts between the Exiles and the People Who Remained (6th–​5th Centuries BCE). Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 543. New York: T&T Clark, 2013. Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit, and Corrine Carvalho, eds. “Ezekiel in Its Babylonian Context.” Themed volume, Welt des Orient 45 (2015). Sedlmeier, Franz. “The Figure of David and His Importance in Ezekiel 34-​37.” In Ezekiel: Current Debates and Future Directions, edited by William A. Tooman and Penelope Barter, 92–​106. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 112. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017. Smith, Jonathan Z. To Take Place: Towards Theory in Ritual, Chicago Studies in the History of Judaism. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987. Stevenson, Kalinda R., Vision of Transformation: The Territorial Rhetoric of Ez 40-​48. Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series 154. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1996. Stökl, Jonathan. “Schoolboy Ezekiel: Remarks on the Transmission of Learning.” Die Welt des Orients 47 (2017): 50–​61. Strawn, Brent A. What Is Stronger than a Lion? Leonine Image and Metaphor in the Hebrew Bible and the Ancient Near East. Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 212. Fribourg/​Göttingen: Academic Press/​Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2005. Strong, John T. “Grounding Ezekiel’s Heavenly Ascent: A Defense of Ezek 40-​48 as a Program for Restoration.” Scandinavian Journal of Old Testament 26 (2012): 192–​211. Strine, Casey A., and Carly L. Crouch. “Yhwh’s Battle against Chaos in Ezekiel: The Transformation of a Judahite Myth for a New Situation.” Journal of Biblical Literature 132 (2013): 883–​903. Strine, Casey A. “Chaoskampf Against Empire: Yhwh’s Battle Against Gog (Ezek 38–​39) As Resistance Literature.” In Divination, Politics and Ancient Near Eastern Empires, edited by Alan Lenzi and Jonathan Stökl, 87–​108. Ancient Near East Monographs 7. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2014. Tuell, Steven S. The Law of the Temple in Ezekiel 40-​48. Harvard Semitic Monograph 49. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1992. Walzer, Michael. In God’s Shadow: Politics in the Hebrew Bible. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2012. Weippert, Manfred. “Prophetie im Alten Orient.” Neues Bibel-​Lexikon 3 (1997): 196–​200. Whitelam, Keith W. “The Symbols of Power: Aspects of Propaganda in the United Monarchy.” Biblical Archaeology 49 (1986): 166–​173. Wilson, Gerald H. “King, Messiah, and the Reign of God: Revisiting the Royal Psalms and the Shape of the Psalter.” In The Book of Psalms: Composition and Reception, edited by Peter W. Flint and Patrick D. Miller, 391–​406. Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 99. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2005. Wilson, Ian D. Kingship and Memory in Ancient Judah. New York: Oxford University Press, 2017. Winitzer, Abraham. “Assyriology and Jewish Studies in Tel Aviv: Ezekiel among the Babylonian literati.” In Encounters by the Rivers of Babylon: Scholarly Conversations Between Jews, Iranians and Babylonians in Antiquity, edited by Uri Gabbay and Shai Secunda, 163–​216. Texte und Studien zum Antiken Judentum 160. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014. Wright, John W. “A Tale of Three Cities: Urban Gates, Squares and Power in Iron Age II, Neo-​ Babylonian and Achaemenid Judah.” In Second Temple Studies III: Studies in Politics, Class and Material Culture, edited Philip R. Davies and John M. Halligan, 19–​50. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 340. London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002.

Chapter 12

Priests, Lev i t e s , a nd the Nasi New Roles in Ezekiel’s Future Temple Tova Ganzel

As found in the Masoretic Text, Ezekiel’s distinctive temple vision (Ezekiel 40–​48) accomplishes the following goals, in sequence: describe the temple building (40:1–​43:12) and the altar (43:13–​27); set out laws relating to the temple and the sacrificial order (44:1–​ 46:24); depict a spring that will issue forth from the temple (47:1–​12); and outline a new division of the land of Israel (47:13–​48:35). Some of this vision’s striking, unique features include: its new territorial allotments around the temple; its interior design;1 and the almost total absence of temple vessels,2 with the exception of the altar.3 Similarly striking is the fact that the description of the projected sacrificial offerings diverges from presumably pre-​existing scriptural injunctions,4 as do the projected roles of the temple personnel. The present chapter examines the roles of this vision’s temple functionaries. This examination provides an avenue for assessing how Ezekiel’s vision responds to similar pentateuchal and contemporaneous Babylonian elements—​by either incorporating or changing them in order to serve its overarching aim. I will treat, in turn, the three spheres of concern that impact any such consideration: the vision’s driving theological theme, its inner-​biblical context, and the influence of the Babylonian milieu.5 In treating c­ hapters 40–​48 as a single thematic unit, I concur with Paul Joyce’s observation that we can speak “with a measure of confidence . . . of the sixth-​century witness of the book of Ezekiel, and also regard that witness as profoundly influenced, both in content and style, by Ezekiel himself.”6 In the present chapter, I first identify this unit’s driving theological force as an intense desire to safeguard the future temple’s sanctity, thereby forestalling it from sharing the First Temple’s fate.7 Second, I draw upon inner-​biblical comparisons, mainly with the Pentateuch,8 to identify which elements in Ezekiel’s vision lack biblical parallels—​and to explore their significance. Third, I adduce research that views Ezekiel’s temple and theocentric worldview within its Babylonian

238   Tova Ganzel milieu. In drawing comparisons between the temple personnel in Ezekiel’s vision and functionaries in Neo-​Babylonian temples,9 a few studies have consulted the enormous corpus of thousands of Neo-​Babylonian legal, economic, and administrative archival documents.10 Given new exposure to a rich array of Babylonian cultic practices that differed fundamentally from those with which Ezekiel and other Judean exiles were familiar, their possible reactions ranged from adoption of the surrounding culture to erection of barriers. That being said, we will never know just how familiar Ezekiel was with the inner workings of these institutions.11 As I have shown elsewhere (with Shalom Holtz), parallels between the Neo-​Babylonian temples and Ezekiel’s temple are significant, but do not necessarily imply that Ezekiel borrowed anything directly from his cultural milieu. Ezekiel and his audience were certainly familiar with the Neo-​Babylonian temples that dominated the urban landscape, simply because of where the Judean exiles went about their daily lives.12 In any case, alongside the similarities between Ezekiel’s visionary temple and those of Neo-​Babylonia, I will note the profound differences. The latter stem in part from the gap between the visionary cast of Ezekiel’s future temple and the functioning, economically powerful temples of Babylon.

1.  Underlying Theological Goal: Preserving the Temple’s Sanctity In specifying the commandments and rules for the priests and their temple service (Ezek 44:15–​31), the text in Ezekiel largely adheres to the directives found in Leviticus–​ Numbers. Nonetheless, Ezekiel is the sole prophet to include laws governing the temple service in his prophecies; some of these laws are innovations, such as the sacrificial order in the temple, and laws for the priests. The unique description of the priests’ roles in Ezekiel covers many details: dietary laws concerning the consumption of carcasses that seem restricted to priests only; a detailed prohibition of wool clothing; mourning customs and the prohibition against a priest’s marrying a widow who was not married to a priest; details of the sacrificial order (like a purification offering and purification of the temple on the New Moon and the seventh of the month); a prohibition against a priest’s entering the inner courtyard while drunk; different language used for consuming ‫ קֳ ָד ׁ ִשים‬qoḏāšîm “sacred foodstuffs”; hair length and head-​covering; and the ‫ ּ ָת ִמיד‬tāmîḏ “regular” sacrifice donated by the functionary called ‫ ָנ ִׂשיא‬nāśîˀ (who is discussed below). Nowhere in Ezekiel do we find any references to the tithe or gifts from the ‫ ׁ ְשל ִָמים‬šəlāmîm “well-​being offerings”; nor is there any mention of a high priest. Here I build on Moshe Greenberg’s identification of the underlying ideology of these unique features as fueled by the aspiration to prevent repetition of the disaster that befell the First Temple: the departure of the divine presence from the temple, presaging its destruction. Greenberg notes several features exclusive to Ezekiel’s temple vision, all aimed at preserving its sanctity and guaranteeing the permanent indwelling of the

Priests, Levites, and the Nasi   239 divine presence in the future temple.13 Relying upon Greenberg’s insight, I seek to add to the discussion a treatment of the unique status of Ezekiel’s functionaries and their roles in the temple (mainly chs. 43–​4614).15 Because of the intricate link between the past, predestruction acts of those functionaries—​the priests, the Levites, and the nasi—​ and the roles assigned to them in the future temple, this requires paying attention also to the book’s earlier sections, which ascribe misdeeds to these same functionaries.16 Grounding Ezekiel’s judgment of all these functionaries is his assessment of the extent of their responsibility for having defiled the First Temple, and thus for having distanced the divine presence therefrom.

2.  Priests and Levites: Who Conducts the Cult? 2.1 Priests Although there is no scholarly consensus regarding the role or status of the priests in Ezekiel’s temple vision,17 the distinction between Zadokite priests (descendants of Zadok18) and other priests (chs. 40–​45), which is grounded in Ezekiel’s interpretation of their behavior before the destruction, is recognized as a striking innovation.19 Ezekiel bases his preferential treatment of the Zadokites on their adherence to God at a time when others abandoned Yhwh: “But the Levitical priests, of the family of Zadok, who did guard duty for my sanctuary while the people of Israel were deserting me, they are the ones who have access to me and serve me” (44:15).20 Although it has been correctly observed that historical circumstances form the backdrop for this choice,21 clues to Ezekiel’s preference for Zadokites can also be found in the accusations tendered against the non-​Zadokite priests for desecrating the sancta prior to the destruction: “Her priests did violence to my instruction and desecrated my holy things: they did not distinguish between the sacred and the profane, or teach the difference between the impure and the pure. My sabbaths they disregarded, and I have been desecrated among them” (22:26). Ezekiel sets this group—​which also failed to instruct the people as to the proper behavior—​in opposition to another that will serve in the future temple and will enjoy especial closeness to God, denoted as: “the priests qualified to come before Yhwh” (42:13); “the priests who serve in the sanctuary, and who qualify to serve Yhwh” (45:4). These priests should most probably be identified as the Zadokite priests; they, unlike the sinning priests, “guard[ed] the temple” (40:45).22 Ezekiel 40:45–​46 describes the roles of these two different groups of priests: verse 45 refers to the priests who, like the Pentateuch’s Levites (see Num 18:2–​3), guard the temple but do not offer sacrifices on the altar. Verse 46 refers to “the priests who guard the altar—​they are the descendants of Zadok, who alone of the descendants of Levi may approach Yhwh to serve him,” namely, they offer sacrifices and also distance foreigners from the altar.

240   Tova Ganzel It is the first group’s failure to distance impurity from the temple and to prevent the desecration of the divine name (22:26) that frames its exclusion from cultic duties by Ezekiel. A restricted number of priests also suggests that, for Ezekiel, this would both make it easier to preserve the temple’s purity and also enhance priestly proficiency. The absence of the high priest in Ezekiel’s vision (and I posit that this office would not exist in the future temple23) is perhaps another facet of Ezekiel’s aim to preserve the temple’s heightened sanctity; conceivably, Ezekiel sought to make the holy of holies inaccessible to human contact. The phenomenon of an elite lineage of priests also existed in Babylonian temples.24 There too we find explicit concern with erecting barriers between humans and deities in order to preserve sanctity, as scholar Caroline Waerzeggers.25 Although there is no Akkadian word for an individual priest, there are words describing priestly collectives from a legal/​ social point of view (e.g., kiništu “temple college/​ assembly”), and expressions pertaining to one’s affiliation with a deity (PN/​official of [ša] DN/​temple).26 The Babylonian milieu can shed light on stipulations pertaining to the priests in Ezekiel’s vision and how they share the overarching goal of preserving the temple’s sanctity. These stipulations address three topics: hairstyle, clothing, and the kitchens where the sacrifices were cooked. Hairstyle: While Ezekiel emphasizes the prohibition against priests shaving their heads,27 at the same time, he uniquely mandates that they must keep their hair short: “they will neither shave their heads, nor let their hair grow long but keep their hair trimmed” (44:20).28 In this case, I think that Ezekiel aimed not to imitate, but to distinguish the Zadokite priests from the Babylonian temple priests, who were not only bald, but shaved all their body hair before serving in the temple.29 Although I assume that all Babylonian priests underwent some sort of initiation ceremony, only those who came in contact with the deity within the sanctuary room or entered the restricted areas of the temple had to be shaved for performance of their duties.30 These were the temple enterers and some of the purveyors who were in charge of preparing the raw materials for the gods and who took part in the daily ceremonies in the temple courtyards.31 The gullubu (“shaving”) ceremony took place in the temple bathhouse. It is likely that for initiates, visits to the temple’s barbers were routine.32 In addition to apparently paying regular visits to the barber to be shaved, Babylonian priests had to submit to physical examination, to make sure they bore no defects and were (still) pure to serve.33 A byproduct of the gullubu requirement was that priests stood out visually, and Ezekiel was certainly familiar with their custom of shaving their heads. If, as I assume, Ezekiel applies this injunction only to priests offering sacrifices inside the temple, he thereby creates a visible distinction between the priests of the future temple and the priests of similar status in his Babylonian environment.34 Clothing: This aspect of priestly appearance in Ezekiel differs in some details from what we find elsewhere: “They will wear linen clothes when they go into the gates of the inner court. They must not wear wool when they serve in the gateways of the inner court. . . . When they exit to the outer court to the people, they shall take off their official garments, leaving them in the sacristies, and then put on different clothes lest they transmit

Priests, Levites, and the Nasi   241 holiness to people who might have touched their official garments” (44:17–​19, emphasis added; see also 42:14).35 Ezekiel’s separation of the clothing worn in the temple precincts from that worn when approaching the people—​which is perhaps grounded in the ancient concept of sancta contagion—​resembles the praxis in the Ezida temple, where the priests stored their ritual garments in the workshops, though I do not know if they shared that ancient notion.36 At Ezida, special care was taken regarding how the priests entered the temple’s inner rooms; this protected the temple from impurity.37 Perhaps clothing constitutes an example where—​as a means of preserving the sanctity of the future temple—​Ezekiel adopted the pentateuchal mandate that priests had to change their clothes when moving outside the sacred precinct (Lev 6:4), while also drawing upon Babylonian temple praxis. (For their part, Babylonian priests had to wash before entering the temple38; they also had to meet standards of physical perfection.39) Although Ezekiel does not explicitly require ritual immersion, he does call for an additional week of purification for a priest suffering corpse impurity, at the conclusion of which he must offer a ḥattat (purification offering).40 In sum, these directives share a common purpose: to preserve the temple’s purity. The Kitchens: Another unique feature of Ezekiel’s temple vision is his singling out of the place where the most sacred sacrifices were to be cooked: “Then he took me through the entrance . . . to the sacristies of the priests, which faced north. There I saw a space at the rear facing west. He said to me: This is the place where the priests will cook the reparation offering and the purification offering, and where they will bake the meal offering, so as not to bring [them] outside, thereby exposing the people to holiness” (46:19–​20, emphasis added).41 Ezekiel goes on to describe the place where the sacrifices of the people will be cooked, in the outer court, by the Levites, not the priests: “These are the kitchens where the servants of the temple compound cook the people’s well-​being sacrifices” (46:24). Again, a principle of separation between the sacred and the profane realms is shared by Ezekiel’s vision and by the Babylonian priests. Evidently, the priests who cooked the holiest sacrifices in the Babylonian temples belonged to the higher echelons of the priesthood, ranking above the supporting functionaries who did guard duty or cooked.42 This singular mention of the kitchens in Ezekiel’s temple provides a glimpse of the multiple tasks carried out by temple priests. Perhaps the thirty rooms (leshakhot, 40:17) found in Ezekiel’s temple—​whose purpose and dimensions remain undefined—​echo the comprehensive descriptions of the temple personnel in the Babylonian temples, such as Ezida, with its many workshops (šutummu). As a priest who was aware of functioning temples in the surrounding environment, this may have prompted Ezekiel’s specification of concrete details such as the number of rooms, which testifies to the need for dressing rooms and kitchens.

2.2  The Levites In the book of Ezekiel, the Levites—​that is, the nonpriestly members of the tribe of Levi43—​receive explicit mention in both the predestruction context and in the future

242   Tova Ganzel temple,44 appearing four times in the temple vision.45 Two of these instances relate to their past deeds, for which they will be barred from assuming priestly tasks—​as opposed to the sons of Zadok, who did not go astray: “But the Levites, who deserted me when Israel strayed from me, straying from me after their festishes, they will bear their punishment. . . . Because they served them in the presence of their idols, who caused the house of Israel to stumble into sin, I raised my hand in oath against them—​the proclamation of my Lord Yhwh—​that they will bear their punishment. They will not have access to me to perform priestly duties for me, or come near any of my sancta or to the most holy offerings. They will endure the disgrace of their loathsome acts” (44:9–​14); “for the consecrated priests, the descendants of Zadok, who did guard duty for me, and who, unlike the Levites, did not go astray when the descendants of Israel went astray” (48:11). The Levites’ role in the future temple is mentioned twice in the vision; they will be assigned guard duty and other chores: “They will serve inside my sanctuary doing guard duty at the gatehouses of the sanctuary and doing the sanctuary chores. They will do the slaughtering of the whole burnt offerings and the well-​being offerings for the people, standing before them and serving them. . . . And I will appoint them as guards of the temple compound, janitors for its maintenance and all the work that is done there” (44:11–​14).46 Another mention appears in 45:5, where the Levites’ task is to “maintain the temple.”47 Taken together, we can infer that the sin of the Levites inhered in their serving the people while the latter engaged in idol worship. In the future temple, as in the one that was destroyed, the job of the Levites will be to guard the gates and to slaughter the burnt and well-​being offerings. Thus Ezekiel does not lower their status as compared to the past;48 rather, the ramifications of their behavior are reflected in the fact that their authority is not enhanced.49 Ezekiel therefore distinguishes between the temple responsibilities of the priests of the Zadokite line, as opposed to the other priests and the Levites. This distinction not only impacts participation in cultic rituals—​which devolves only on Zadokite priests—​but also limits access by Levites and non-​Zadokite priests to the temple precincts. Possibly the role of the Levites in the future temple was the same as that of the non-​ Zadokite priests,50 who like them belonged to the tribe of Levi but were not descendants of Zadok. Both groups serve as guards: the Levites as “guards of the temple compound” (44:14), and the priests as guards of “the temple” (40:45). Support for this view comes from 44:15, in light of 44:10: the Zadokites, who did guard duty while the people of Israel were deserting God, are contrasted with the Levites, who, like the non-​Zadokite priests, deserted God when Israel strayed and whose service aided the idolators.51 Nonetheless, the Levites will be allowed to continue to serve in the future temple because their sins neither defiled the temple nor desecrated the divine name. Thus, despite the criticism directed at the Levites in his prophecies, they retain a function as gatekeepers and slaughterers of sacrifices in Ezekiel’s vision. Ezekiel’s separation of the Zadokite priests from the other priests and the Levites, as reflected in restrictions on entry to the sacred precincts, also has a Babylonian parallel. Babylonian prebendary nomenclature preserves a distinction between cultic

Priests, Levites, and the Nasi   243 functionaries who may approach the deity and enter the sanctuary, and those who may not. The highest ranks of priests were known as “temple enterers” (ērib bīti) and its members could enter the innermost regions of the temple.52 Those who prepared the gods’ food—​mainly the brewers, bakers, and butchers—​belonged to a slightly lower rank.53 This second group can be seen as an analogue to Ezekiel’s Levites, whose activities are limited to slaughtering animals, but not actually presenting the burnt offerings that followed. As is the case with the temple’s basic structure, Ezekiel’s distinction between categories of people who may or may not approach the deity, and its elevation of a particular lineage, is hardly unique. Nevertheless, Ezekiel’s innovation with regard to the choice of the Zadokites invites consideration against Ezekiel’s Babylonian context. The Zadokites’ reward for their proper behavior is a way of ensuring that the personnel in the future temple will be worthy of their task. Babylonian sources show similar motivations for proper standards within the priesthood, particularly in the thorough investigations carried out as part of the ritual induction of higher priestly ranks. This process included investigation of purity of body, descent, and behavior, in which we may see further analogues to Ezekiel’s insistence on Zadokite lineage (descent) and his basing of this insistence on the Zadokites’ upstanding behavior, i.e., their fidelity to proper service (44:15).54

3.  Clarifying the Enigma of the Nasi 3.1  The Nesi’im Although it is perhaps tempting to define the nasi (nāśîˀ) as a king or a prince, nothing in Ezekiel’s temple vision suggests such a role for him.55 The biblical meaning of nasi commonly denotes leader or ruler,56 usually a tribal head or local leader, although the nasi is occasionally placed in a royal role, as in Solomon’s case (1 Kgs 11:34).57 Against the backdrop of Ezekiel’s criticism of the severe sins of the kings of Israel (ch. 17; 43:7–​9),58 in his vision he assigns the designation nasi to the future leader. In Ezekiel, the term nasi is frequently applied to the leader of the people in the vision of the future temple,59 where the prophet delineates his functions. In addition, the nasi is mentioned in various contexts earlier in the book, where the use of this honorific—​ as opposed to melekh (meleḵ) “king”—​is ambiguous.60 As for the other functionaries, Ezekiel notes the failure of the nesi’im in the past to fulfill their task of preventing bloodshed.61 On the other hand, Ezekiel devotes many verses in the vision of the future temple to the status of the nasi (45:1–​46:18) granting him a separate eternal inheritance in the division of the land, outside that of the tribes—​plus the people were obligated to give him a fixed contribution (45:1–​8). Although the nasi enjoys special privileges with regard to the temple, his position, as defined by Ezekiel, also carries social and ritual obligations: doing justice (45:9–​12); a prohibition against confiscating the territory of the people; an obligation to keep honest weights and measures (45:10–​12); and the offering

244   Tova Ganzel of atonement/​purification (45:17) and festival sacrifices (45:22, 46:1–​15). He enjoys limited privileges in the temple; it is the priests who have overwhelming authority to teach law and maintain the cult.62 The nasi must fund the sacrifices, but his privileges were more limited than those of kings throughout the First Temple period. (Note the absence of a king in Ezekiel’s temple vision.) This arrangement will protect the temple from royal caprices, from royal opposition to the divine command.63 Thus, the role of the nasi in Ezekiel’s vision of the future places greater stress on religious rather than political functions. As Stephen Cook concludes, the nasi “is a constrained, ‘tribal’ Davidic head [in] a new, tribally organized people of God. He is fully subordinate to the Lord.”64 Once again, comparison to the personnel in the Babylonian temples is instructive. Functionaries with a role similar to that of the nasi can be identified in the Ezida temple: the šatammu and the qīpu.65 The šatammu was responsible for the functioning of the priests and had many administrative obligations, including ensuring that the sacrifices were consistently offered (even though he did not offer them). In effect, he was the temple administrator who oversaw the cult’s execution.66 I underscore his administrative role; to the best of our knowledge he had no role in the cult itself.67 For his part, the qīpu was also mainly responsible for the economic and legal administration of the temple to the king’s benefit and supervised the obligations of the temple vis-​à-​vis the palace. I suggest that the nasi in Ezekiel integrates the roles of the two Babylonian temple officials who exercised broad administrative powers, but did not actually participate in the offering of the temple sacrifices. In this manner, Ezekiel places in the future temple a central figure that is responsible for its day-​to-​day functioning. However, as opposed to the Babylonian functionaries, and as a corrective to the Judean monarchy that brought the destruction of the temple, the nasi is not second to a human king, but answers only to God. Moreover, whereas in the Babylonian temples the relationship between the kings and the temple functionaries was one of dependence of the priests on the king, the relationship in Ezekiel is not dependent on a royal authority, nor does the king appoint priests. In the projected future temple, the status of the priests inheres in their lineage, while nowhere is there a description of how the nasi is appointed—​just a description of the land that he will receive and his administrative functions. In Babylonia, on the other hand, following his initiation, a priest had to be approved by the king or his local representative. When it came to the upper echelons of the priesthood in the major temples, the king was personally involved.68 And since these positions held great political and economic power, they were an intrinsic part of the political power game at the highest levels.69 In Ezekiel, nasi denotes the highest official among the people; however, as opposed to “king,” which is a defined governmental designation, nasi is rather—​as its derivation indicates—​the person who is above the people. Ezekiel’s appointment of a nasi creates a distinction from the kings of the nations, who were said to represent their respective gods as agents. In his role as the highest official, the leader of the people in Ezekiel’s temple vision does not represent God, even indirectly. As shaped by Ezekiel,

Priests, Levites, and the Nasi   245 the function of the nasi as an administrator also protects him from the defects of the Israelite and Judean kings who ruled during the First Temple period.

4. Conclusions To understand the roles of the temple personnel in Ezekiel’s vision of the future temple, three spheres of concern were taken into account: the broader biblical context, the more restricted context of the book of Ezekiel, and the Babylonian backdrop for his prophecies. Each contributed to the differentiation of the temple functionaries from their biblical precedents, on the one hand, and from what was known of their Babylonian environment on the other. The unique status of the functionaries in Ezekiel’s future temple reflects his desire to demarcate and differentiate their roles—​both from prior biblical models, and from the model of his Babylonian milieu.70 In aiming to protect the temple from defilement by functionaries who betrayed their roles in the First Temple period,71 he not only reshaped the roles of the temple personnel, but also eliminated the king and the high priest from his vision of the future temple.72

Acknowledgment This research was supported by The Israel Science Foundation (grant no. 1608/​15).

Notes 1. Many scholars have drawn comparisons between the temple chapters in Ezekiel and pentateuchal literature. See, e.g., Block, Ezekiel, 2:498–​50. They have also compared Ezekiel’s temple to the Solomonic one (ibid., 547–​549 and the literature cited there). Different from Solomon’s temple, there is no wooden veneer from Lebanon, no gold, and no capitals on the columns; and two columns flank each side of the entrance. In addition, there are differences in the measurements of the heikhal “nave, great hall,” the holy of holies, the entrance hall, the number of gates, and the dimensions of the courtyards. Similar to Solomon’s temple (1 Chr 28:10): cherubs and palm trees on walls, and human faces and lion faces (Ezek 41:18–​20/​ 1 Kgs 6:35; 7:36, but without gold). 2. There is no dvir “inner sanctuary,” ark of the covenant, or keruvim “cherubim”; nothing is described for the holy of holies, nor are golden lamps mentioned for the heikhal (“nave, great hall,” cf. 1 Kgs 7:48–​49); there is no mention of the gold-​covered table for the showbread, no golden altar, no laver, and no laver stands. In Ezekiel we find only the inner wooden altar, whose dimensions are unique: three cubits high (like in the Tabernacle) and two cubits long (double that of the Tabernacle). Designated “the table that stand before Yhwh” (41:22), it is the only thing in the heikhal; in that, it differs from the altars in Solomon’s temple and in the Tabernacle courtyard (Exod 27:1–​8).

246   Tova Ganzel 3. This is exceptional as compared to Exodus 29 and Leviticus 9. See Rimon Kasher, Ezekiel: Introduction and Commentary [in Hebrew], 2 vols. (Mikra Leyisra’el; Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 2004), 1:20–​28. 4. Daniel I. Block, The Book of Ezekiel, 2 vols. (NICOT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997–​98), 1: 23–​27. 5. I will not discuss the textual redaction history of Ezek 40–​48; in the Masoretic Text, these chapters comprise an independent, redacted, coherent literary unit. To avoid awkward wording, I refer to Ezekiel as a prophet; this does not imply that there was a single redactor or author for the book. For holistic approaches to these chapters, see Moshe Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 22; New York: Doubleday, 1983); Moshe Greenberg, “The Design and Themes of Ezekiel’s Program of Restoration,” Inter 38 (1984): 181–​208; Block, Ezekiel, 2:673–​674; Kasher, Ezekiel, 2:832–​ 834. For a prominent representative of the viewpoint that these chapters have undergone multiple redactions, see Walther Zimmerli, Ezekiel 2, trans. James D. Martin (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983). 6. Paul M. Joyce, Ezekiel: A Commentary (LHBOTS 482; New York: T&T Clark, 2007), 16. 7. Many studies have viewed Ezekiel 40–​48 as a thematic unit, albeit their understandings of its aims differ. See Jon D. Levenson, Theology of the Program of Restoration of Ezekiel 40–​48 (HSM 10; Cambridge, MA: Scholars, 1976); Steven S. Tuell, The Law of the Temple in Ezekiel 40–​48 (HSM 49; Atlanta: Scholars, 1992); Kalinda R. Stevenson, The Vision of Transformation: The Territorial Rhetoric of Ezekiel 40–​48 (SBLDS 154; Atlanta: Scholars, 1996); Corrine Patton, “Ezekiel’s Blueprint for the Temple of Jerusalem” (PhD diss., Yale University, 1992); Brian N. Peterson, Ezekiel in Context: Ezekiel’s Message Understood in Its Historical Setting of Covenant Curses and Ancient Near Eastern Mythological Motifs (Princeton Theological Monographs 182; Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2012). 8. See, e.g., Risa Levitt Kohn, A New Heart and a New Soul: Ezekiel, the Exile, and the Torah (JSOTSup 358; London: Sheffield, 2002); Michael A. Lyons, From Law to Prophecy: Ezekiel’s Use of the Holiness Code (LHBOTS 507; New York: T&T Clark, 2009). 9. As done sporadically by Block in his commentary, see, e.g., Block, Ezekiel, 2:736. See also Tova Ganzel and Shalom E. Holtz, “Ezekiel’s Temple in Babylonian Context,” VT 64 (2014): 211–​226; Madhavi Nevader, “Picking Up the Pieces of the Little Prince: Refractions of Neo-​ Babylonian Kingship Ideology in Ezekiel 40–​48?” in Exile and Return: The Babylonian Context, ed. Jonathan Stökl and Caroline Waerzeggers (BZAW 478; Boston: de Gruyter, 2015), 268–​291. 10. For a survey of the archival material from first millennium Babylonia, see Michael Jursa, Neo-​Babylonian Legal and Administrative Documents: Typology, Contents, and Archives (GMTR 1; Münster: Ugarit Verlag, 2005). This includes evidence from archeological remains, literary sources (chiefly descriptions of temples in topographical and ritual texts), and archival documents (chiefly temple administration records and private priestly archives). These sources allow us to draw different types of connections between the biblical and the extra-​biblical materials. For previous studies on the influence of Mesopotamian sources on Ezekiel’s prophecy, see, e.g., Daniel Bodi, The Book of Ezekiel and the Poem of Erra (OBO 104; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1991); Donna L. Petter, The Book of Ezekiel and Mesopotamian City Laments (OBO 246; Fribourg: Academic Press, 2011). The present discussion of Mesopotamian influences likewise takes a synchronic stance toward Ezekiel. 11. See further, e.g., Ganzel and Holtz, “Babylonian Context”; David S. Vanderhooft, “Ezekiel in and out of Babylon,” in Bible et Proche-​Orient: Mélanges André Lemaire III, ed.

Priests, Levites, and the Nasi   247 J.-​M. Durand and Josette Elayi, special issue, Transeuphratène 46 (2014): 99–​119; Abraham Winitzer, “Assyriology and Jewish Studies in Tel Aviv: Ezekiel among the Babylonian Literati,” in Encounters by the Rivers of Babylon: Scholarly Conversations between Jews, Iranians, and Babylonians in Antiquity, ed. Uri Gabbay and Shai Secunda (TSAJ 160; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 163–​216; and Dalit Rom-​Shiloni and Corrine Carvalho, eds., Ezekiel in Its Babylonian Context, WdO 45, no. 1 (2015). 12. See Ganzel and Holtz, “Babylonian Context.” 13. Including the following aspects: enlargement of the courtyards surrounding the temple and more stringent watch of their gates; exclusion of priests who engaged in idolatry from offering sacrifices on the altar; restriction of the nasi’s access to specific areas of the sacred precincts; distancing of “laity” from participating in the sacrificial rites; all sacrifices (except for that of the nasi) are public sacrifices; the offering of additional sacrifices in the first month to prevent the accrual of impurity in the temple; and the new egalitarian division of the tribal allotments, so that those who were discriminated against in Ezekiel’s day would receive their part. See Greenberg, “Ezekiel’s Program of Restoration.” To the above-​ mentioned we can add the geographical location of the temple, which is distanced from the city, and the absence of many of the temple utensils, which would reduce the need for the intervention of temple personnel, thereby preserving the temple’s sanctity. 14. Scholars, noting that the Zadokites and Levites are distinguished starting in ­chapter 44, variously posit that the shifts in language indicate later additions—​or, alternatively, that this distinction was merely implied in earlier parts of the book. For a recent, detailed analysis of ­chapter 44, see Nathan MacDonald, Priestly Rule: Polemic and Biblical Interpretation in Ezekiel 44 (BZAW 476; Berlin/​Boston: de Gruyter, 2014). 15. For a survey of the roles of the foreign kings, the princes of the nations, and the prophets—​ none of which are treated here—​see Tova Ganzel, “The Status of Functionaries in the Future Temple of Ezekiel” [in Hebrew], Shnaton 19 (2009): 21–​23. 16. On all the functionaries in Ezekiel, see Iain M. Duguid, Ezekiel and the Leaders of Israel (VTSup 56; Leiden: Brill, 1994). My proposal for a unifying factor differs from what Duguid has posited. See also Block, Ezekiel, 2: 582–​583. 17. See, e.g., Friedrich Fechter, “Priesthood in Exile according to the Book of Ezekiel,” in Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World: Wrestling with a Tiered Reality, ed. Stephen L. Cook and Corrine L. Patton (SBLSS 31; Leiden: Brill, 2004), 27–​41; Iain M. Duguid, “Putting Priests in Their Place: Ezekiel’s Contribution to the History of the Old Testament Priesthood,” in ibid., 43–​59; Baruch J. Schwartz, “A Priest Out of Place: Reconsidering Ezekiel’s Role in the History of the Israelite Priesthood,” in ibid., 61–​7 1; Corrine L. Patton, “Priest, Prophet, and Exile: Ezekiel as a Literary Construct,” in ibid., 73–​89. 18. The expression ‫ ְּבנֵי צָדו ֹק‬bənê ṣāḏôq “Zadokite” appears only in Ezekiel. See Duguid, Leaders of Israel, 87–​90. Although nowhere mentioned explicitly in the book of Ezekiel, the notion that he was himself a Zadokite priest is commonly assumed. See Marvin A. Sweeney, “Ezekiel: Zadokite Priest and Visionary Prophet of the Exile,” in Form and Intertextuality in Prophetic and Apocalyptic Literature (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 125–​143. A similar preference for Zadokite priests is attested in the Second Temple period at Qumran. See Philip R. Davies, “Zadok, Sons of,” Encyclopedia of the Dead Sea Scrolls, ed. Lawrence H. Schiffman and James C. VanderKam (Oxford: University Press, 2000), 2:1005–​1007 and the bibliography cited there. 19. The discussion assumes that the status of the priests in Ezekiel is grounded in the priestly sources. See Raymond Abba, “Priests and Levites in Ezekiel,” VT 28 (1978): 1–​9; J. Gordon McConville, “Priests and Levites in Ezekiel: A Crux in the Interpretation of

248   Tova Ganzel Israel’s History,” TynBul 34 (1983): 3–​31; Rodney K. Duke, “Punishment or Restoration? Another Look at the Levites of Ezekiel 44.6–​16,” JSOT 40 (1988): 61–​81; Stephen L. Cook, “Innerbiblical Interpretation in Ezekiel 44 and the History of Israel’s Priesthood,” JBL 114 (1995): 193–​208; and recently, MacDonald, Priestly Rule. 20. All translations of Ezekiel 1–​37 are cited from Moshe Greenberg’s Anchor Bible volumes; translations for the remainder of the book are cited from Jacob Milgrom and Daniel I. Block, Ezekiel’s Hope: A Commentary on Ezekiel 38–​48 (Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2012). 21. See Iain M. Duguid, “Putting Priests in Their Place,” in Cook and Patton, Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World, 46; Friedrich Fechter, “Priesthood in Exile,” in ibid., 38. Nevertheless, it appears that historical events also contributed to Ezekiel’s preference for Zadokite priests. The absolute trust placed in the priestly family of Zadok by David, Solomon, and Hezekiah, alongside its adherence to divine directives in times of crisis and distress, served as another reason for its selection to serve in the future temple. On the acts of the Zadokite priests, see 2 Sam 15–​16; 19:12; 20:25; 1 Kgs 1:8; 4:2; 1 Chr 15:11; 16:39; 18:16; 29:22. The preference for the house of Zadok continued after David’s day. See 2 Chr 31:10; Ezra 7:2. 22. See already the twelfth-​century commentary of Eliezer of Beaugency on 40:45, in Mikra’ot Gedolot “Haketer”: Yeḥezkel [in Hebrew], ed. Menachem Cohen (Ramat Gan: Bar-​Ilan University, 2000), 271 23. I differ here from Duguid (Leaders of Israel, 63–​64), who assumes the existence of the post of high priest in Ezekiel, even though it is not explicitly mentioned. 24. See Ganzel and Holtz, “Babylonian Context,” for evidence from Babylonian sources that bear on two aspects of Ezekiel’s visionary temple: the description of space and the internal priestly hierarchy. 25. Caroline Waerzeggers, The Ezida Temple of Borsippa: Priesthood, Cult, Archives (Achaemenid History 15; Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 2010), 33–​ 65, especially 46–​49 (§1). The frequent references to the Ezida temple do not imply that Ezekiel was necessarily familiar with the details of its functioning, but I argue that it was part of his contextual world. 26. Socioeconomic aspects of the Babylonian priesthood were recently studied by Bastian Still, “The Social World of Babylonian Priests” (PhD diss., Leiden University, 2016). From a cultic perspective, however, it is important to keep in mind that not all ritualists were necessarily part of the prebendary system, although it seems that they were remunerated by tax payments. Thus, e.g., the tēlītu payment was a type of tax levied from priests to pay other members of the priesthood; see Waerzeggers, Ezida Temple, 329–​337. The diviners (barû) traced their lineage to a mythical past and thus could (theoretically) come only from certain families in Sippar, Nippur, and Babylon (although in practice this was almost never the case); W.G. Lambert, “The Qualifications of Babylonian Diviners,” in tikip santakki mala bašmu: Festschrift für Rykle Borger zu seinem 65. Geburtstag am 24. Mai 1994, ed. Stefan Maul (CM 10; Groningen: Styx, 1998), 141–​158; Paul-​Alain Beaulieu, “The Social and Intellectual Setting of Babylonian Wisdom Literature,” in Wisdom Literature in Mesopotamia and Israel, ed. Richard J. Clifford (SBL Symposium Series 36; Atlanta: SBL, 2007), 3–​19; Waerzeggers, Ezida Temple, 77–​78. There is, however, no evidence that diviners were prebendary priests per se. Priests were meanwhile part of a larger Babylonian urban elite. See John Nielsen, Sons and Descendants: A Social History of Kin Groups and Family Names in the Early Neo-​ Babylonian Period, 747–​626 BC (CHANE 46; Leiden: Brill, 2011), 7–​11. 27. Even though the wording differs, this is similar to Lev 21:5, where the prohibition to shave the edge of their beards is preceded by “they shall not make bald patches on their head.”

Priests, Levites, and the Nasi   249 28. As opposed to the prohibition against cutting his hair in Num 6:8, the nazir “nazirite” must shave his head if he is exposed to corpse impurity. In the Pentateuch, only the high priest is forbidden to let his hair grow untended as a sign of mourning (Lev 21:10; see also Lev 10:6). 29. Regarding the Ezida temple, see Waerzeggers, Ezida Temple, 51. On the connection between a clean-​shaven priest and a pure priest eligible to practice the cult, see Caroline Waerzeggers (with a contribution by Michael Jursa), “On the Initiation of Babylonian Priests,” ZAR 14 (2008): 1–​23. 30. As attested by seals and reliefs depicting priests. See Stefania Altavilla and C.B.F. Walker, in collaboration with J.C. Finke, Late Babylonian Seal Impressions on Tablets in the British Museum, part 2: Babylon and Its Vicinity (NISABA 28; Messina: Di Sc. A.M., 2009–​2016), e.g., B132 (butcher), B134, A183 (brewer), A213 (exorcist). 31. Waerzeggers (with Jursa), “Initiation,” 14–​15. 32. Waerzeggers (with Jursa), “Initiation,” 9. 33. Waerzeggers (with Jursa), “Initiation,” 20. 34. In the Pentateuch, we find shaving of the body as a one-​time rite during the purification of the Levites (Num 8:7) and of the leper (Lev 14:8–​9). It is not mentioned in the context of the washing of garments in the laws of the red heifer in Num 19. 35. For a comparison of Ezekiel to P, see Jacob Milgrom, Leviticus 1–​16: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 3; New York: Doubleday, 1991): “Furthermore, Ezekiel’s rule on sancta contagion is the key that explains his difference from P . . . even to the point of preventing the laity from direct contact with the priestly clothing and the sacrifices” (448–​453, here 452–​453). 36. Waerzeggers, Ezida Temple, 12, 55. 37. Waerzeggers, Ezida Temple, 52–​53. 38. Waerzeggers, Ezida Temple, 12–​13, 55. 39. Waerzeggers, Ezida Temple, 36, 52. 40. In the Pentateuch, the seven-​day period was followed by ritual immersion. On the ḥattat “purification offering” in Ezekiel as compared to P, see Milgrom, Leviticus, 281–​284. 41. Milgrom, Leviticus, 393, notes that the location of the priests’ dining area is not accessible to the laity. 42. See, e.g., Waerzeggers, Ezida Temple, 47–​48. 43. See Block, Ezekiel 25–​48, 626–​632. 44. I am assuming that the Levites were a group with a known, defined role from First Temple times, as suggested by the priestly sources. See Stevenson, Vision of Transformation, 66–​78. 45. Ezek 44:10, 45:5; 48:11–​13, 48:22. On the status of the Levites in these chapters, see Duguid, Leaders of Israel, 58–​87; Kasher, Ezekiel: Introduction and Commentary, Schwartz, “Priest Out of Place,” in Cook and Patton, Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World, 63. 46. The phrase ‫ ׁש ְֹמ ֵרי ִמ ׁ ְשמֶ ֶרת הַ ָּביִת‬šōmrê mišmereṯ habbāyiṯ (44:14 and also 40:45) means ‘those who keep the guarding/​watching of the house’; it does not include cultic service. See Block, Ezekiel 25–​48, 537. 47. The other references to Levites in these chapters address their land portions. See 45:5; 48:12–​13, 22. 48. Duguid, Leaders of Israel, 83–​87; Stevenson, Vision of Transformation, 66–​78. 49. A unique purification ceremony for the Levites (which has no parallel for any priest or nasi) is found in Num 8:5–​22. It consists of the sprinkling of purification water, the shaving of their bodies, and the washing of their clothes.

250   Tova Ganzel 50. Already eight centuries ago, David Kimḥi (Radak) construed these groups as identical: “The Levites that he [Ezekiel] mentioned—​regarding the kohanim he said that every priest is a Levite.” In Cohen, ed., Mikra’ot Gedolot, 44:10–​11.295 51. See Eliezer of Beaugency, in Cohen, ed., Mikra’ot Gedolot, 44:10–​11.295 52. Waerzeggers (with Jursa), “Initiation,” 1–​23. 53. Waerzeggers (with Jursa), “Initiation”; Waerzeggers, Ezida Temple; Still, “Social World.” 54. See Ganzel and Holtz, “Babylonian Context,” 224. 55. On the role of the nasi as compared to the Babylonian kings, see Nevader, “Picking Up the Pieces,” 268–​291. I have found a comparison of the nasi to the temple manager to be more productive. 56. Menahem Z. Kaddari, A Dictionary of Biblical Hebrew [in Hebrew] (Ramat Gan: Bar-​Ilan University Press, 2006), s.v. 736( ‫)נשיא‬. 57. In Solomon’s day, the usual meaning of the word nasi was: local leader, or regional leader, or leader of a tribal allotment. See 2 Chr 1:2; see also 1 Kgs 8:1; 1 Chr 4:38, 5:6, and the exceptional use in 1 Kgs 11:34. 58. On the position of the king, see, among others, Duguid, Leaders of Israel, 10–​57; Erling Hammershaimb, “Ezekiel’s View of the Monarchy,” in Studia orientalia Ioanni Pedersen septuagenario, ed. Flemming Hvidberg (Copenhagen: Munksgaard, 1953), 130–​11340; Paul M. Joyce, “King and Messiah in Ezekiel,” in King and Messiah in Israel and the Ancient Near East: Proceedings of the Oxford Old Testament Seminar, ed. John Day (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1998), 323–​337; Levenson, Theology, 55–​129; Tuell, Law of the Temple, 103–​117. 59. In Ezek 1–​22, ‫ ְנ ִׂשיא ִי ְׂש ָראֵ ל‬nəśîˀ yiśrāˀēl is mentioned 7 times, whereas in chs. 40–​48, he is mentioned 20 times—​in addition to the two times that the phrase ‫ עַ בְ דִּ י ָדוִ ד‬ˁaḇdî ḏāwiḏ “David my servant” appears in ch. 37 with reference to the future nasi. 60. At the beginning of ch. 12, the prophet is commanded into symbolic exile; Ezekiel connects this act to the exile of the nasi (12:10–​11). In ch. 19, the prophet utters an elegy for the last kings of Judea, calling them ‫ ְנ ִׂשיאֵ י ִי ְׂש ָראֵ ל‬nəśîˀê yiśrāˀēl “princes of Israel.” Chapter 21 speaks of the punishment by the sword of the nasi and the people because of their evil deeds (21:17), and the prophet declares: “As for you, you wicked corpse, chief of Israel” (21:30). These chapters do not specify the sins. Only in ch. 22 does the prophet refer to the misdeeds of the nəśiˀîm: “See, the chiefs of Israel have each resorted to force in you, in order to shed blood” (v. 6). 61. See Moshe Greenberg, Ezekiel 21–​ 37: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 22A; New York: Doubleday, 1997), 453–​454; Kasher, Ezekiel: Introduction and Commentary, 1:441. Perhaps the designation nasi (instead of melekh “king”) for the future leader of the Israelites in the passages that describe sins of the nasi before his removal (chs. 12, 19, 21, and 22), reflects the fact that Judah’s king, in its final decades, ruled a shrunken kingdom. 62. See Block, Ezekiel 25–​48, 742–​746. 63. As the Israelite kings engaged in the most heinous acts before the temple’s destruction, defiling the temple and the divine name, they have no role in the future cult (43:7–​8). Although Babylonian kings were not part of the temple hierarchy, they did have a representative in the temple administration, and people with ties to the palace frequently interacted with the temple on various levels. The king himself had access to the temple, as he participated in certain ceremonies, such as the New Year Festival. I plan to address the interaction between the practices reflected in Ezekiel’s vision and what is known of actual Babylonian praxis in the near future.

Priests, Levites, and the Nasi   251 64. Stephen L. Cook, “Ezekiel’s Recovery of Premonarchic, Tribal Israel,” in Ezekiel: Current Debates and Future Directions, ed. William A. Tooman and Penelope Barter (FAT 112; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017), 359–​372, here 367. 65. Waerzeggers, Ezida Temple, 42–​43. 66. As at the Esagil, Ezida, and Eanna temples. See A. C. V. M. Bongenaar, The Neo-​Babylonian Temple at Sippar: Its Administration and Its Prosopography (PIHANS 80; Istanbul: Nederlands Historisch-​Archaeologisch Instituut te Istanbul, 1997); Rocío Da Riva, Der Ebabbar-​Tempel von Sippar in frühneubabylonischer Zeit (640–​580 v. Chr) (AOAT 291; Münster: Ugarit Verlag, 2002). 67. Waerzeggers, Ezida Temple, 43–​ 44. See also, e.g., Yuval Levavi, Administrative Epistolography in the Formative Stage of the Neo-​ Babylonian Empire (Dubsar 3; Spätbabylonische Briefe 2; Münster: Zaphon, 2018), esp. 97–​103. 68. Neo-​Babylonian temples were not only religious centers—​with exorcists, singers, lamentation priests, and a wide range of cultic performers who were responsible for rituals and ceremonies—​but also, as indicated above, economic centers. 69. On the interaction between the priestly families in the major Babylonian cities and the crown see Yuval Levavi, “Betting on the Right Horse: Loyalty in the Early Years of the Neo-​ Babylonian Empire,” in Fortune and Misfortune in the Ancient Near East: Proceedings of the 60th RAI, Warsaw, 2014, ed. Olga Drewnowska and Małgorzata Sandowicz (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2017), 177–​190. 70. An additional area to explore is the nature of the relationship between the temple, its managers, and the political establishment. For example, some findings indicate that the management of the temple’s estate and ration system might have been in private hands; see Michael Jursa, 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, with contributions by J. Hackl et al. (AOAT 377; Münster: Ugarit Verlag, 2010), 660–​680. 71. And from the presence of foreigners. See Tova Ganzel, “The Defilement and Desecration of the Temple in Ezekiel,” Bib 89 (2008): 376. At Ezida, foreigners were likewise barred from entering the temple. See Waerzeggers, Ezida Temple, 49–​50. 72. For Ezekiel, the people’s involvement in sin that defiled the temple constrains the projected link between the people and the future temple: they will be forbidden access to the inner courtyard (while foreigners will be forbidden to enter the temple area at all). This too is a means of protecting the future temple from impurity, thereby ensuring that it will stand forever. Protection of the temple in Ezekiel’s vision of the future explains other differences, as well. See Rimon Kasher, “Anthropomorphism, Holiness and Cult: A New Look at Ezekiel 40–​48,” ZAW 110 (1998): 192–​208.

Bibliography Abba, Raymond. “Priests and Levites in Ezekiel.” Vetus Testamentum 28 (1978): 1–​9. Altavilla, Stefania, and C.B.F. Walker, in collaboration with J.C. Finke. Late Babylonian Seal Impressions on Tablets in the British Museum. Part 2: Babylon and Its Vicinity. NISABA 28. Messina: Di Sc. A.M., 2009–​2016. Beaulieu, Paul-​Alain. “The Social and Intellectual Setting of Babylonian Wisdom Literature.” In Wisdom Literature in Mesopotamia and Israel, edited by Richard J. Clifford, 3–​19. SBL Symposium Series 36. Atlanta: SBL, 2007.

252   Tova Ganzel Block, Daniel I. The Book of Ezekiel. 2 vols. NICOT. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997–​98. Bodi, Daniel. The Book of Ezekiel and the Poem of Erra. OBO 104. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1991. Bongenaar, A. C. V. M. The Neo-​Babylonian Temple at Sippar: Its Administration and Its Prosopography. PIHANS 80. Istanbul: Nederlands Historisch-​Archaeologisch Instituut te Istanbul, 1997. Cohen, Menachem, ed. Mikra’ot Gedolot “Haketer”: Yeḥezqel. Ramat Gan: Bar-​Ilan University, 2000. Cook, Stephen L. “Ezekiel’s Recovery of Premonarchic, Tribal Israel.” In Ezekiel: Current Debates and Future Directions, edited by William A. Tooman and Penelope Barter, 359–​72. FAT 112. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017. Cook, Stephen L. “Innerbiblical Interpretation in Ezekiel 44 and the History of Israel’s Priesthood.” Journal of Biblical Literature 114 (1995): 193–​208. Cook, Stephen L., and Corrine L. Patton, eds. Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World: Wrestling with a Tiered Reality. SBLSS 31. Leiden: Brill, 2004. Da Riva, Rocío. Der Ebabbar-​Tempel von Sippar in frühneubabylonischer Zeit (640–​580 v. Chr). AOAT 291. Münster: Ugarit Verlag, 2002. Davies, Philip R. “Zadok, Sons of.” In Encyclopedia of the Dead Sea Scrolls, edited by Lawrence H. Schiffman and James C. VanderKam, 2:1005–​1007. Oxford: University Press, 2000. Duguid, Iain M. Ezekiel and the Leaders of Israel. VTSup 56. Leiden: Brill, 1994. Duguid, Iain M. “Putting Priests in Their Place: Ezekiel’s Contribution to the History of the Old Testament Priesthood,” In Cook and Patton, Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World, 43–​59. Duke, Rodney K. “Punishment or Restoration? Another Look at the Levites of Ezekiel 44.6–​ 16.” JSOT 40 (1988): 61–​81. Eliezer of Beaugency. “Commentary on the book of Ezekiel” [in Hebrew]. In Menachem Cohen, ed., Mikra’ot Gedolot, 271–​95. Friedrich Fechter, “Priesthood in Exile according to the Book of Ezekiel,” In Cook and Patton, Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World, 27–​41. Ganzel, Tova. “The Defilement and Desecration of the Temple in Ezekiel.” Biblica 89 (2008): 369–​79. Ganzel, Tova. “The Status of Functionaries in the Future Temple of Ezekiel” [in Hebrew]. Shnaton: An Annual for Biblical and Ancient Near Eastern Studies 19 (2009): 21–​23. Ganzel, Tova, and Shalom E. Holtz. “Ezekiel’s Temple in Babylonian Context.” VT Vetus Testamentum 64 (2014): 211–​26. Greenberg, Moshe. “The Design and Themes of Ezekiel’s Program of Restoration.” Interpretation: A Journal of Bible and Theology 38 (1984): 181–​208. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 1–​20: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. AB 22. New York: Doubleday, 1983. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 21–​37: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. AB 22A. New York: Doubleday, 1997. Hammershaimb, Erling. “Ezekiel’s View of the Monarchy.” In Studia orientalia Ioanni Pedersen septuagenario, edited by Flemming Hvidberg, 130–​40. Copenhagen: Munksgaard, 1953. Joyce, Paul M. “King and Messiah in Ezekiel.” In King and Messiah in Israel and the Ancient Near East: Proceedings of the Oxford Old Testament Seminar, edited by John Day, 323–​37. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1998. Joyce, Paul M. Ezekiel: A Commentary. LHBOTS 482. New York: T&T Clark, 2007.

Priests, Levites, and the Nasi   253 Jursa, Michael. Neo-​Babylonian Legal and Administrative Documents: Typology, Contents, and Archives. GMTR 1. Münster: Ugarit Verlag, 2005. Jursa, Michael, with contributions by Johannes Hackl, et al. 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: Ugarit Verlag, 2010. Kasher, Rimon. “Anthropomorphism, Holiness and Cult: A New Look at Ezekiel 40–​48.” Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 110 (1998): 192–​208. Kasher, Rimon. Ezekiel: Introduction and Commentary [in Hebrew]. 2 vols. Mikra Leyisra’el. Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 2004. Kimḥi, David. “Commentary on the Prophets” [in Hebrew]. In Menachem Cohen, ed., Mikra’ot Gedolot, 295. Kohn, Risa Levitt. A New Heart and a New Soul: Ezekiel, the Exile, and the Torah. JSOTSup 358. London: Sheffield, 2002. Lambert, WilfredGeorge. “The Qualifications of Babylonian Diviners.” In tikip santakki mala bašmu: Festschrift für Rykle Borger zu seinem 65. Geburtstag am 24. Mai 1994, edited by Stefan Maul, 141–​58. CM 10. Groningen: Styx, 1998. Levavi, Yuval. Administrative Epistolography in the Formative Stage of the Neo-​Babylonian Empire. Dubar 3. Spätbabylonische Briefe 2. Münster: Zaphon, 2018. Levavi, Yuval. “Betting on the Right Horse: Loyalty in the Early Years of the Neo-​Babylonian Empire.” In Fortune and Misfortune in the Ancient Near East: Proceedings of the 60th RAI, Warsaw, 2014, edited by Olga Drewnowska and Małgorzata Sandowicz, 177–​90. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2017. Levenson, Jon D. Theology of the Program of Restoration of Ezekiel 40–​48. HSM 10. Cambridge, MA: Scholars, 1976. Lyons, Michael A. From Law to Prophecy: Ezekiel’s Use of the Holiness Code. LHBOTS 507. New York: T&T Clark, 2009. MacDonald, Nathan. Priestly Rule: Polemic and Biblical Interpretation in Ezekiel 44. BZAW 476. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2014. McConville, J. Gordon. “Priests and Levites in Ezekiel: A Crux in the Interpretation of Israel’s History.” TynBul 34 (1983): 3–​31. Milgrom, Jacob. Leviticus 1–​16: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. AB 3. New York: Doubleday, 1991. Milgrom, Jacob, and Daniel I. Block. Ezekiel’s Hope: A Commentary on Ezekiel 38–​48. Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2012. Nevader, Madhavi. “Picking Up the Pieces of the Little Prince: Refractions of Neo-​Babylonian Kingship Ideology in Ezekiel 40–​48?” In Exile and Return: The Babylonian Context, edited by Jonathan Stökl and Caroline Waerzeggers, 268–​91. BZAW 478. Boston: de Gruyter, 2015. Nielsen, John. Sons and Descendants: A Social History of Kin Groups and Family Names in the Early Neo-​Babylonian Period, 747-​626 BC. CHANE 46. Leiden: Brill, 2011. Patton, Corrine L. “Ezekiel’s Blueprint for the Temple of Jerusalem.” PhD diss., Yale University, 1992. Patton, Corrine L. “Priest, Prophet, and Exile: Ezekiel as a Literary Construct,” In Cook and Patton, Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World, 73–​89. Peterson, Brian N. Ezekiel in Context: Ezekiel’s Message Understood in Its Historical Setting of Covenant Curses and Ancient Near Eastern Mythological Motifs. Princeton Theological Monographs 182. Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2012.

254   Tova Ganzel Petter, Donna L. The Book of Ezekiel and Mesopotamian City Laments. OBO 246. Fribourg: Academic Press, 2011. Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit, and Corrine Carvalho, eds. Ezekiel in Its Babylonian Context. Die Welt des Orients 45, no. 1 (2015) [thematic volume]. Schwartz, Baruch J. “A Priest Out of Place: Reconsidering Ezekiel’s Role in the History of the Israelite Priesthood,” In Cook and Patton, Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World, 61–​7 1 Stevenson, Kalinda R. The Vision of Transformation: The Territorial Rhetoric of Ezekiel 40-​48. SBLDS 154. Atlanta: Scholars, 1996. Still, Bastian. “The Social World of Babylonian Priests.” PhD diss., Leiden University, 2016. Sweeney, Marvin A. “Ezekiel: Zadokite Priest and Visionary Prophet of the Exile.” In Form and Intertextuality in Prophetic and Apocalyptic Literature, 125–​ 43. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005. Tuell, Steven S. The Law of the Temple in Ezekiel 40–​48. HSM 49. Atlanta: Scholars, 1992. Vanderhooft, David S. “Ezekiel in and out of Babylon.” In Bible et Proche-​Orient: Mélanges André Lemaire III, edited by J.-​M. Durand and Josette Elayi. Special issue, Transeuphratène 46 (2014): 99–​119. Waerzeggers, Caroline. The Ezida Temple of Borsippa: Priesthood, Cult, Archives. Achaemenid History 15. Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 2010. Waerzeggers, Caroline, with a contribution by Michael Jursa. “On the Initiation of Babylonian Priests.” ZAR 14 (2008): 1–​23. Winitzer, Abraham. “Assyriology and Jewish Studies in Tel Aviv: Ezekiel among the Babylonian Literati.” In Encounters by the Rivers of Babylon: Scholarly Conversations between Jews, Iranians, and Babylonians in Antiquity, edited by Uri Gabbay and Shai Secunda, 163–​216. TSAJ 160. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezekiel 2: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 25–​48. Translated by James D. Martin. Hermeneia. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983.

Chapter 13

E zekiel’s C onc e p t of C ove na nt John Strong

When approaching the topic of covenant in the Ezekiel scroll, the reader is struck immediately by the near absence of the term ‫ ְּב ִרית‬bərîṯ “covenant,” much less discussion of the concept.1 One might infer that covenant was of no consequence to Ezekiel—​a theological category that this member of the ancient literati eschewed for some reason. Yet at a time not so long after the discovery of the Book of the Law and Josiah’s Deuteronomic reforms (2 Kings 22–​23), grounded as they were in the idea of covenant, how could Ezekiel reflect on the catastrophes of 597 and 587/​6 without considering God’s covenant with the Israelites? Moreover, as has often been observed, Ezekiel’s language reflects strong connections to another covenantal text, the Holiness Code (Leviticus 17–​26; see the discussion below, § 3.3). Covenant as a concept was not limited narrowly to a key term or two. Rather, it had infused, as it were, the very ink that was being applied to the ancient ostraca and papyri. In a study of Persian-​period texts reflecting concepts of covenant, Richard Bautch has modeled a way forward for our study of Ezekiel. Bautch, following Kalluveettil, understands covenant simply, yet accurately, as denoting the relationship between God and Israel.2 Hence, specific covenant language and terms do not need to be present in a text, in order for the idea of covenant to permeate and inform it.3 While this chapter will limit the discussion to locutions linked in some way to the concept of covenant, ultimately I am concerned with how Ezekiel defined the relationship of Israel with Yahweh, its national Deity. In this chapter, I will argue that for this Jerusalem priest/​prophet, forcibly removed to Babylon, the eternal covenants established with Jerusalem (16:8) on the one hand, and the House of Jacob in Egypt (20:5) on the other, were promises made by God without condition, which at some time in the future, even if transformed, would be remembered.

256   John Strong

1.  The Language of Covenant in Ezekiel Four discrete locutions reference covenant in some form,4 one of which can be immediately eliminated from consideration. It employs the noun ‫ ְּב ִרית‬as the object of the verb ‫ כרת‬k-​r-​t “to cut,” appearing in 17:13, 15, and 18. This passage articulates an elaborate allegorical condemnation of Zedekiah, who broke a covenant that he had made with Nebuchadrezzar in 597.5 While it provides obvious evidence of Ezekiel’s use of the concept of covenant, this passage really tells us only that Ezekiel preferred Jehoiachin over Zedekiah, and that he expected Zedekiah to be a man of his word. (Perhaps it speaks also to Ezekiel’s ethics, telling us that on this earth “a deal is a deal.”) In this chapter, however, I am concerned with covenant as a theological concept—​that is to say, how an ancient sixth-​century priest/​prophet understood and defined the divine–​human relationship, which for Ezekiel was the relationship between Yahweh and Israel. Thus the “secular” instances of ‫​ ְּב ִרית‬+ ‫ כרת‬fall outside our purview. Meanwhile, the noun ‫ ְּב ִרית‬appears in two of the other three phrases of interest to us: ‫ ְּב ִרית עוֹלָם‬bərîṯ ˁôlām “eternal covenant,” which appears twice (16:60 and 37:26), as does ‫שלו ֹם‬ ָ ׁ ‫ ְּב ִרית‬bərîṯ šālôm “covenant of peace” (34:25 and coupled with “eternal covenant” in 37:26). Both expressions state something significant about the Yahweh–​Israel relationship. The third expression that I will treat are the various forms of the so-​ called Bundesformel, “They shall be to me for a people, and I will be to them for a God,” which appears six times in the Ezekiel scroll.6 Obviously it, too, asserts something about Israel’s relationship with its God. We will attempt to discern the mind of Ezekiel in regard to covenant by investigating these three expressions—​beginning with the last expression mentioned.

1.1  Ezekiel’s Use of the Bundesformel Of the six occurrences of the Bundesformel, three of them (11:20, 14:11, and 37:23) appear in passages generally attributed to the hand of the prophet himself, whereas the other three (34:24, 36:28, and 37:27) are generally agreed to be later Fortschreibungen.7 Regarding the Bundesformel in the “genuine” passages, each of these texts is ordered alike and employs the same grammatical deixis: it first mentions the element that refers to the people, stated in the third-​person plural, and then the element featuring God. Moreover, they all appear in the concluding clauses of their respective pericopae. In contrast, in the Bundesformel attributed to redactional layers in the text, the God element is stated first, in both 34:24 (wherein it is the only element that appears) and 37:27. Although the element featuring the people does appear first in 36:28, there it is couched distinctively in the second-​person plural. In other words, the form attributable to the prophet is consistent across all three exemplars, whereas the other three occurrences display forms that vary from both the (arguably) authentic form, as well as from each

Ezekiel’s Concept of Covenant     257 other.8 These observations and judgments are important only because I am first trying to establish Ezekiel’s concept of the covenant, against which I can then compare how later covenantal concepts were developed by the tradents of Ezekiel’s prophecies. Of the covenantal language found in Ezekiel, the Bundesformel in the presumably original passages (11:20, 14:11, and 37:23, the discussion of which is to follow) is the blandest and least definitive. Yet this vanilla quality implies the existence of a covenant known to Ezekiel, one that he considered to be already in force and continued to be so. Ultimately, the Bundesformel connotes the prophet’s belief that God would remember a covenant that had been established in the past, that had effectively elected Israel, or some segment of Israel (i.e., the exiles), and Jerusalem to a special relationship with God and a privileged status in the cosmos.9

1.1.1  Ezek 11:14–​21 Two important elements link the first passage, 11:14–​21, with the first vision of the temple structure in Ezekiel 8–​11.10 First, the next two verses narrate the movement of God’s ‫ ּ ָכבו ֹד‬kāḇôḏ “glory” from the eastern gate to the mountain to the east of the city, thus providing a fitting inclusio to Ezekiel’s discussion of theodicy in Ezekiel 8, and the movements of the kāḇôḏ out of the Holy of Holies in Ezekiel 10. Second, the twenty-​ five officials standing in the eastern gate (11:1–​3) are clearly intended to be the secular counterparts to the twenty-​five men conducting sacred rituals between the altar and the temple (8:16).11 Thus, the Bundesformel of 11:20 assists in concluding not only 11:14–​21, but also Ezekiel’s entire prophetic response to the elders of Judah who sat before him in his home (Ezek 8:1). Additionally, this connection with the elders of Judah parallels 14:1–​11, in which Ezekiel prophesies to the elders of Israel (v. 1), and points as well to Ezekiel 20, where again we see the elders of Israel inquiring of the prophet (vv. 1–​3), and as will be discussed below (§2.2), narrates the ceremony in which Yahweh established the eternal covenant with the seed of Jacob in Egypt. Suddenly, the text has presented us with an expanding range of passages with which to understand Ezekiel’s purposes in using the Bundesformel and his covenantal theology in general. Ezekiel 11:14–​21 opens with an announcement of “the word of the Lord,” and it closes with ‫ נְאֻ ם אֲ דֹנָי יהוה‬nəˀum ˀăḏōnāy Yhwh “says the Lord God.” Verse 15 targets Jerusalem’s inhabitants as being distant from Yahweh, even though they claimed the inheritance of the land. In the next six verses, Ezekiel draws a sharp contrast between those remaining in the land and his fellow exiles. First, the initial adverb ‫ לָכֵ ן‬lāḵēn “therefore” introduces God’s command to Ezekiel to explain that the inhabitants of Jerusalem are far from Yahweh because, ironically, God is with the exiles as some type of a shrine (‫ ִמ ְקדָּ ׁש ְמעַ ט‬miqdāš məˁaṭ; 11:16).12 A second ‫ לָכֵ ן‬introduces how God will gather and reassemble the exiles in the land, negating the second claim of Jerusalem officials that the land belonged to them. At verse 19, the prophet declares that God will give as a gift to the exiles “one heart” (following the Massoretic Text) and a “new spirit,” after having been repatriated within the land. Then ‫ לְמַ עַ ן‬ləmaˁan “so that” follows immediately (v. 20), making explicit the causal relationship: because of these two gifts, the exiles will walk in God’s ordinances and keep God’s judgments. At this point, the Bundesformel declares

258   John Strong the existence of the covenant between the repatriated exiles and Yahweh. Note that the passage circles back around to address the initial point that Yahweh, who in a limited way was a shrine with exiles in Babylon, would covenant with exiles in full measure upon their return to the land. Several lessons are learned about Ezekiel’s theology of covenant from these few words. First, as Rom-​Shiloni has argued, with this passage Ezekiel privileged the exiles as the new elect over those remaining in the land,13 and the concluding Bundesformel states this election by use of the category of covenant. Second, the Bundesformel also punctuates God’s choice of Ezekiel’s comrades in exile—​his ‫ אַ ִחים‬ˀaḥîm (literally “brothers,” v. 15)—​as the ones who would redeem the land (reading ‫ גאל‬g-​ˀ-​l, with the Masoretic text14). The Bundesformel, then, states that covenant is the content of the hyphen that holds the divine–​people–​land triad together, as argued by Block.15 The final point to be made, however, involves what is not present in the text. There is no new oath taken, nor any sign of a covenant making ceremony. True enough, a new spirit will be given, and the exiles’ heart of stone will be transformed into one of flesh (v. 19; cf. 2:4; 3:7). Certainly, on account of these transformations (cf. ‫לְמַ עַ ן‬, v. 20), the people will be able to keep the ordinances and statutes, but there will not be new laws. By way of contrast, Jeremiah prophesied that Yahweh would make (‫ כרת‬k-​r-​t) a new covenant (‫ְּב ִרית‬ ‫שה‬ ָ ׁ ‫ חֲ ָד‬bərîṯ ḥăḏāšāh), one of an entirely different order, one that would be written on the people’s heart (Jer 31:31; cf. §2.4 below).16 The vanilla quality of the Bundesformel in 11:20 merely affirms the existence of a covenant already in effect, one without need of revision.

1.1.2  Ezek 14:1–​11 The next instance of the Bundesformel again concludes the prophetic report found in Ezek 14:1–​11, behind which is hidden a fascinating and dramatic encounter between Ezekiel and a delegation of Israel’s leaders (‫ אֲ נ ׁ ִָשים ִמ ִּז ְקנֵי ִי ְׂש ָראֵ ל‬ˀănāšîm mizziqnê yiśrāˀêl “certain elders”; v. 1). Although the Bundesformel has the appearance of being tacked on to the end of this pericope, almost as an afterthought, a close reading leads to the conclusion that the Bundesformel quite appropriately closes off a debate over who remains as Yahweh’s elect. We are told nothing about the purposes or intent of the delegation before the prophet, but we do learn in the introduction (vv. 1–​3) that they have taken idols to their hearts (v. 3; and also vv. 4 and 7). Yahweh then asks, “Should I be inquired of by them?” (‫הַ ִאדָּ ר ֹׁש‬ ‫ ִאדָּ ֵר ׁש לָהֶ ם‬haˀiddārōš ˀiddārēš lāhem; v. 3b). In the body of this text, structured by two appearances of ‫לָכֵ ן‬, which I read almost like bullet points, Ezekiel answers Yahweh’s rhetorical question by citing sacerdotal case law from the Holiness Code (Lev 17:3–​4, 8–​9, 10, 13–​14; and 20:2–​3).17 These laws deal with sacrificial practices that defile a worshipper, whether an Israelite or a resident alien—​and thus cut off that person from communion with Yahweh. In the first ‫ לָכֵ ן‬bullet point (vv. 4–​5), Ezekiel is commanded to cite the law, though he bends it so that it deals with prophetic inquiry rather than sacrifice. The second ‫ לָכֵ ן‬bullet point (vv. 6–​8) applies the law to the current situation, equating the delegation of elders (‫ל־בית ִי ְׂש ָראֵ ל‬ ֵ ּ ֶ‫ אֱ מ ֹר א‬ˀĕmōr ˀel-bêṯ yiśrāˀēl; v. 6) with “anyone at all

Ezekiel’s Concept of Covenant     259 from the House of Israel” (‫יש ִמ ּ ֵבית ִי ְׂש ָראֵ ל‬ ׁ ‫יש ִא‬ ׁ ‫ ִא‬ˀîš ˀîš mibbêṯ yiśrāˀēl; vv. 4 and 7) who have somehow defiled themselves—​in this instance by inquiring of a Yahweh-​prophet despite their idolatry (ibid.). As with the laws in the Holiness Code, such parties must be cut off from “my people” (‫ עַ ִּמי‬ammî; v. 8). Note that while the text may deal with prophetic inquiry, excommunication from the elect remains in play. Quite masterfully, Ezekiel also turned the law upon himself in vv. 9–​10 (see the “header” ‫ וְ הַ ּנָבִ יא‬wəhnnāḇîˀ “and the prophet”). The issue, apparently, was that Ezekiel’s refusal to respond to this delegation of elders, coupled with his accusatory application of the Holiness Code, made him appear foolish in their eyes, perhaps as a prophet who had spoken presumptuously, thereby deserving death (cf. Deut 18:20). In his preemptive rebuttal, Ezekiel employs the root ‫ פתה‬p-​t-​h, whose meaning has to do with foolishness. Ultimately, what Ezekiel had to say about himself, when a bunch of idolaters plopped themselves down in front of him, was that Yahweh himself would make him a fool (v. 9). As Mosis argues, however, ‫ פתה‬did not necessarily carry negative connotations or a moral judgment—​as did near-​synonyms ‫ כסל‬k-​s-​l and ‫ נבל‬n-​b-​l—​but instead indicated simply a shortcoming.18 Put differently, whatever Ezekiel’s prophetic “word” (‫ ִ;ד ּ ֶבר דָּ בָ ר‬v. 9) may have been, he was communicating God’s will by remaining mute on the subject of their inquiry.19 Certainly he was suffering punishment by being placed in the midst of “my people” (‫ ;עַ ִּמי‬v. 9)—​ that is to say, the elect who lived in exile. Hence, while the text forefronts the validation of Ezekiel as a true prophet, his inclusion within God’s elect is also in play. The text, then, contrasts the delegation of elders, who will be cut off from “my people,” with Ezekiel, who, guilty by association, will stand in the midst of “my people,” i.e., the exiles. The Bundesformel brings this passage to its logical conclusion (note ‫ לְמַ עַ ן‬ləmaˁan “so that” at the start of v. 11). Soaring above the elders’ idolatry and Ezekiel’s foolish silence is the issue of their separation from, and relation to, Yahweh. The exiles and the prophet Ezekiel may bear the burden of their iniquity, but their punishment is nevertheless transforming them into the elect who will be able to keep the covenant. The innovation proposed by Ezekiel’s text is the humiliation of exile that will create within “my people Israel” (v. 10) the ability to keep the covenant (cf. 20:23–​24).20 The covenant being kept, however, is not new; no new law or command or modality is being suggested. The Bundesformel blandly states this fact.

1.1.3  Ezek 37:15–​23 In the current arrangement of the book, 37:15–​23 follows immediately after the vision of the dry bones (vv. 1–​14). While this text is clearly a discrete pronouncement—​one of the 52 prophetic units identified by Zimmerli21—​nevertheless the current placement makes logical sense: once the people are brought back to life (in the preceding passage, vv. 1–​14), the word of Yahweh announces their placement upon the land as the people covenanted to God. With the Bundesformel serving as its conclusion, 37:15–​23 assures the newly revivified people of the restoration of the God–​people–​land triad. The pericope divides into two major parts. After the introductory formula in v. 15, a sign-​act is reported (vv. 16–​17), followed by its interpretation (vv. 18–​23). The sign-​ act involves the grafting of two sticks into one, symbolizing God’s future unification of

260   John Strong Judah and Joseph, i.e., the northern and southern kingdoms. Verse 21 narrates the exodus of “Israelites” (‫ ְּבנֵי ִי ְׂש ָראֵ ל‬bənê yiśrāˀēl) from the nations all around (‫ִמ ּ ֵבין הַ ּגוֹיִם‬ mibbên haggôyīm), once again dubbing the exiles as the elect—​and by implication excluding those people remaining in the land.22 The text playfully moves from plural “nations” (‫ ּגוֹיִם‬gôyīm; v. 21) to one nation (‫ ּגו ֹי אֶ חָ ד‬gôy ˀeḥāḏ; v. 22), while “soil” (‫אֲ ָדמָ ה‬ ˀăḏāmāh; v. 21) is immediately transformed into “land” (‫ אֶ ֶרץ‬ˀereṣ; v. 22).23 God will purify the exiles drawn from around the world through the punishment that is exile (v. 23), a concept repeated from 14:9–​11; and 11:19–​21. The interpretation places the exiles qua Israelites on the land as one nation before then expressing the presence of a covenant through the concluding Bundesformel. With the Bundesformel as its conclusion, 37:15–​23 (as with 11:14–​21 and 14:1–​11) asserts that God’s election of the Israelites will continue by means of settling it solely upon the exiles. When the three passages examined so far (11:14–​21, 14:1–​11, and 37:15–​23) are read together, two notions surface about the Bundesformel. First, in each of the three passages deemed to stem from Ezekiel, the Bundesformel always concludes a passage, and each passage in some way promises election and the inheritance of the land to the exiles, while in 11:14–​21 and 14:1–​11 the exiles’ election is further set in direct contrast with those remaining in the land. In this respect, the evidence from Ezekiel confirms Rendtorff ’s observation that the Bundesformel and election are connected. The second evident notion is that the Bundesformel is covenantal language, although it is bland in the sense that it assumes the resumption of an older covenant that Ezekiel considered to still be in effect. Never did Ezekiel use the Bundesformel to refer to the establishment of a new covenant. All three texts examined, however, do attest to the transforming effect of the humiliation that was the exile.

1.2  Eternal Covenant As mentioned in §1, the term “eternal covenant” (‫ ְּב ִרית עוֹלָם‬bərît ˁôlām) occurs twice in Ezekiel, 16:60 and 37:26. Such a covenant bestows upon someone a new honor, status, or role. The eternal quality of the covenant renders its election unassailable, granting the covenant partner an unconditional privilege. Prominent exemplars include the eternal covenants with Noah (Gen 9:8–​17), Abraham (Gen 17:1–​14), Phinehas and Eleazar (Num 25:6–​18), and of course, David (2 Sam 23:5; Ps 89:19–​37).24 Of the two occurrences in the Ezekiel scroll, that of 37:26 falls within a passage that has drawn together a conglomeration of important phrases and issues, and has all the markings of being late,25 likely dating to the early restoration period. Ezekiel 16:60, then, remains as the lone datum, but fortunately, its text, 16:59–​63, reveals three important aspects of Ezekiel’s theology of covenant.26 First, despite Jerusalem’s disregard of its earlier covenant with Yahweh (16:59; cf. 16:8), God would remember this covenant with Jerusalem (‫יתי או ֹתָ ְך‬ ִ ‫ת־ב ִר‬ ְּ ֶ‫ וְ זָכַ ְר ִּתי אֲ נִי א‬wəzāḵarṯî ˀănî ˀeṯ-bərîṯî ˀôṯāḵ; v. 60).27 Second, it is an eternal covenant that is being remembered, not a new covenant being created. The act of making a new covenant is conveyed in the Hebrew Bible by the verb ‫ כרת‬k-​r-​t “to

Ezekiel’s Concept of Covenant     261 cut” (e.g., Gen 15:18 and Jer 31:31, 33).28 The verb ‫ וַהֲ ִקמו ִֹתי‬wahăqimôṯî (hiphil stem, perfect of ‫ קום‬q-​w-​m “to stand”; vv. 60, 62), defines the content of remembering. In context, the plain sense of 16:60 may be best understood if the verb is construed literally, “I, I will cause my covenant with you to stand.”29 That is, the old covenant with Jerusalem will continue on, as opposed to a new covenant being made for the first time. Third, while the covenant remains the same, Jerusalem, Yahweh’s covenant partner, will be transformed by the shaming process (vv. 61, 63).30 The final phrase in verse 61, “but not on account of your covenant” (‫ וְ ל ֹא ִמ ְּב ִריתֵ ְך‬wəlōˀ mibbərîṯēḵ), dispels any misconstrual that the ascendency that Jerusalem will experience over Samaria and Sodom is in any way a blessing given on account of God’s prior, eternal covenant with the city. Rather, by giving these cities as her daughters, their shame is subsumed under that of Jerusalem, which is why Jerusalem’s shame will be magnified even though it survives them. Despite the eternal nature of God’s covenant with Israel and Jerusalem presumed by Ezekiel, the enduring quality did not exclude the possibility of punishment. Within the concept of the eternal covenant, an interruption of blessings was not equated with the divine’s abrogation of the covenanted guarantee. For example, in Isa 55:3, God neither forgot nor abandoned the eternal covenant with David, but instead democratized it to include the nascent restored community: “I will cut with you an eternal covenant, the firmly established steadfast love with David (‫ חַ סְ ֵדי ָדוִ ד הַ ּנֶאֱ מָ נִים‬ḥasəḏê ḏāwiḏ hanneˀĕmānîm).31 Hence, an eternal covenant, such as the one with David, may be interrupted and God’s treaty partners transformed, but the covenant would never go away.32 Ancient theologians such as Deutero-​Isaiah and Ezekiel affirmed an elevated and refined view of God, who, while free to enact treaty curses and punishments, would never abandon an eternal covenant. What we have learned from 16:59–​63 about Ezekiel’s theology of covenant dovetails nicely with what was gained from our study of the Bundesformel. There, we observed that the Bundesformel was a bland statement of the existence of a covenant, while here, we observe that this prior covenant had the quality of being eternal—​which explains why Ezekiel assumed its continuation. Furthermore, we have learned that in the future, while the eternal covenant would not be altered, the covenant partners would be. The next covenant partners would be Ezekiel’s exilic community and their descendants, who will obtain the ability to keep this eternal covenant because of the shame inherent in the exilic experience.

1.3  Covenant of Peace The third locution concerning covenant in the Ezekiel scroll is ‫שלו ֹם‬ ָ ׁ ‫ב ִרית‬, ְּ “covenant of peace,” which appears twice, 34:25 and 37:26. Both of these verses show evidence of being later additions to the text,33 perhaps dating to the time of the early restoration, based upon their association with a hope of the return of a new Davidic king (cf. Hag 2:20–​23; pace Zimmerli, Ezekiel, 2:222). In regard to the historical setting, 34:25 is instructive. In this verse, “covenant of peace” heads up the section spanning verses 25–​30,

262   John Strong which follows a promise of a new David in verses 23–​24. In the Masoretic text, the theme of verses 25–​30 is the bounty of the land surrounding “my hill” (‫ ִּגבְ עָ ִתי‬giḇˁāṯî; v. 26), a code word for Zion.34 This Zion, however, is at the time of the prophecy undeveloped, nothing but a “wilderness” and “forest” (v. 25). A bird’s-​eye review of verses 23–​24 and 25–​30 allows three promises to emerge (in this order): 1) the re-​establishment of the Davidic house; 2) safety upon an undeveloped Zion; and 3) the return of the exiles. None of these themes resonates well with other passages deemed to have originated with the prophet. The promise of a Davidic king seems especially at odds with the preceding text (vv. 1–​22), Yahweh as Israel’s shepherd—​ not to mention the prophet’s vision of the future office of ‫ ָנ ִׂשיא‬nāśîˀ.35 Acknowledging that dating texts is always tenuous, these expansions seem to reflect the situation of the early restoration period, ca. 520, at a time when Haggai described the area surrounding Zion as a wilderness (Hag 1:7–​11) and expressed hope for a new Davidide (2:20–​23). Setting the issue of the temporal provenance of 34:25–​30 aside for the moment, the question of the meaning of “covenant of peace” remains. Batto situates the covenant of peace in myth as the cessation of hostilities by the gods toward humankind, binding themselves by an oath to maintain the peace and harmony of creation.36 Bautch concurs, summarizing this type of covenant to be a peace treaty, in which the “positive assertion of hostilities ended, and covenant is the vehicle of this peace.”37 If my dating of 34:25 and 37:26 is correct, subsequent editors of the Ezekiel scroll sought to bolster the work of Zerubbabel, Jeshua, Zechariah, and Haggai, by defining their movement to rebuild the temple as a fulfillment of Ezekiel’s prophecies of hope. The covenant of peace, it is important to note, did not replace the prior eternal covenant in 34:25 and 37:26, but rather was added to it. The later tradents of Ezekiel’s prophetic legacy remained true to their master’s theology of covenant, even while updating it for their own setting. The prophet Ezekiel’s theology of covenant, then, was that of an eternal covenant that held God’s unconditional promise of election, a promise from which Yahweh never wavered. The covenant partners, however, were culled out from the larger nation, sent off to exile where they would be refined by the blast-​furnace of shame. The sovereign God did not change, did not need to change; the people did. Later tradents amended new language to the vocabulary of covenant, that of a covenant of peace, which added the expectation that the second temple would usher in the cessation of hostilities against the land and the newly transformed elect, as envisioned by their master, back in his twenty-​fifth year of shame.

2.  Ezekiel’s Eternal Covenants Ezekiel references two covenant-​making ceremonies in his prophecies. The first, 16:8, the election of Jerusalem as Yahweh’s bride, we mentioned while discussing ‫ְּב ִרית עוֹלָם‬ “eternal covenant” (16:60), above. The second covenant making ceremony is found in 20:5. This passage has also been alluded to, for it is another instance when a delegation

Ezekiel’s Concept of Covenant     263 from the elders of Israel came to Ezekiel, sat before him, and inquired of Yahweh (cf. Ezek 14:1). Both of these recollections of covenant making identify the moment when the fates of Jerusalem and the Jacobites were changed forever. The eternal covenant sworn to Jerusalem transformed the city into the dazzling earthly seat of Yahweh’s throne. The eternal covenant sworn to the children of Jacob bound them as a people in an exclusive relationship with Yahweh. Both passages, either implicitly or explicitly, ultimately deal with the establishment of Yahweh as the Divine King.

2.1  Ezek 16:8: Election of Jerusalem The portion of the verse most critical to us reads: “I made an oath to you, and I entered into a covenant with you.” Note as well that one half of the Bundesformel concludes the statement of covenant making, specifically the half emphasizing the people (Rendtorff ’s Formula B)38—​though in this instance, the city (addressed by the second-​person feminine singular form of ‫ )היה‬is the implied clausal subject, in keeping with the metaphor. As we observed above in regard to 16:59–​63, these clauses recount the point in history when Yahweh initiated the eternal covenant with Jerusalem. The foundation of a (male) national deity’s election of a city as the seat of his throne was sunk deep into the soil of ancient Near Eastern culture, expressed through the personification of the city as his consort/​wife. Julie Galambush has explained well the content and ideology of these covenants. “The Old Testament metaphor of Jerusalem as Yahweh’s wife was developed from the ancient Near Eastern understanding of capital cities as ‘goddesses who were married to the patron god of the city.’ ”39 When talking about the covenant involved in the metaphor of Jerusalem as Yahweh’s wife, she defines it as a vassal treaty that Israel made with its Suzerain, Yahweh.40 Here, I suggest the following slight refinement to Galambush’s thesis: the tenor behind the vehicle Jerusalem is not Israel (the people), but it remains Jerusalem itself, whose geography envelops and sacred architecture accentuates the nexus between that which is divine and life-​giving and the earthly realm utterly dependent upon it. Clearly, geographical space and architecture do not make covenants; the leadership of those spaces do. Still, cosmic mountains, crowned by the god’s house and inhabited alongside his consort (the city), supplied fertility to all the land. God’s taking Jerusalem as a wife in 16:8 signified the fertility and concomitant prosperity that would flow down Mount Zion to all of the land. Most precisely, the marriage of Yahweh to Jerusalem alluded to Yahweh’s covenant with the land’s fecundity, not just a relationship with its people. One of the most valuable contributions of Galambush’s study is the observation that Yahweh kills his wife Jerusalem (23:46–​49); her death is carried out before the eyes of both the prophet and his exilic audience by the death of his own wife (24:15–​27).41 And, in contrast with the people, whose dry bones will live again (37:1–​14), never again is Jerusalem revitalized as Yahweh’s wife.42 Yahweh would not permit Jerusalem, according to Ezekiel, to shame Yahweh through defilement. She remained “inanimate stone.”43

264   John Strong So in what way is the eternal covenant of 16:59–​63 remembered and allowed to continue? We have already observed that while an eternal covenant remained in force and unchanged, the covenant partners could be transformed. Jerusalem’s transformation resulted in her demotion. She would be shamed before the gaze of her lovers (16:37; 23:29, 46) and physically separated from her former husband, Yahweh (48:17–​18). Furthermore, she would be designated “ordinary” (‫ חֹל‬ḥol) space (48:15) and serve only as a support facility for workers (48:18–​19). Nevertheless, despite these transformations, Jerusalem would enjoy a superior status over Samaria (16:61). And—​the highest honor that Ezekiel could give to a profane city—​ Judah’s erstwhile capital would become a signpost, pointing northward to the temple, proclaiming to the world that “Yahweh is Over There” (48:35).44

2.2  Ezek 20:5–​6: Election of the Jacobites The text makes no explicit statement of an oath, but instead reads: “I lifted my hand to the seed of the house of Jacob, and I revealed myself to them in the land of Egypt. I lifted my hand to them and said: ‘I am Yahweh your God.’ ” With this gesture, Yahweh made a covenant with the seed of Jacob,45 and so the report quite appropriately concluded with half of the Bundesformel, this time, the God element (Rendtorff ’s Formula A).46 Ezekiel’s revisionist history of the nation, as presented in ­chapter 20, proceeds in a stair-​step fashion.47 With each step, Jacob sins and yet Yahweh continues to honor the oath made in verse 5. Verses 6–​9 begin with the election of Jacob in Egypt (v. 6). Yet though they strayed after “detestable things” and the idols of Egypt (v. 8), Yahweh spared them from destruction in Egypt for the honor of God’s name (v. 9). With the next step (vv. 10–​16), the history moves Jacob into the wilderness phase—​characterized as an act of mercy and grace on Yahweh’s part (v. 10). Statutes and ordinance as the means of life were revealed to Jacob in the wilderness (v. 11), but Israel rebelled yet again (v. 13). The third stage in Ezekiel’s recounting also locates the drama in the wilderness, but this time the statues and ordinances are placed before the children of the Exodus generation (v. 17–​26). In this step (vv. 23–​26), as an act of measured punishment, Yahweh determines to send the children of Jacob out of the wilderness and into exile (v. 23; and cf. vv. 34–​39, 40–​44). A new set of statutes and ordinances were delivered to them that would effect God’s plan—​covenant stipulations that would not result in life (v. 25). As for verses 27–​29, these are taken by many to be secondary, a conclusion with which I concur.48 Hence, taking Ezekiel’s revisionist history as a whole, it moves from Egypt to the wilderness to the exile, thus denying altogether Jacob’s history in the land—​astonishing! In Ezekiel’s rewriting of history, settlement in the land remained a future promise (vv. 40–​ 44). Finally, once the narrative has moved Jacob into exile, then God reiterates—​without condition and without any equivocation—​that Yahweh would be king over Jacob (v. 33). Much has been written about this revision of Yahweh’s dealings with Jacob, and perhaps there will always be more to say about this very dense, rich piece of literature. For

Ezekiel’s Concept of Covenant     265 my purposes here, I must confine my observations to note, first, that once again Ezekiel identifies the exiles as the elect, while those living in the land are ignored. Second, Ezekiel’s re-​envisioned history remains true to what was concluded above about the eternal covenant. Despite being fully justified, Yahweh never withdrew the covenant made with the seed of Jacob in Egypt. The final fulfillment of the covenant might be withheld, the covenant partners might be narrowed, but God, for God’s part, remained true to the initial intent of the covenant—​to be Israel’s Divine King exclusively. To sum up, Ezekiel spoke of two covenant-​making ceremonies. One, 16:8, was made with Jerusalem, which ultimately promised that the fertility of Lady Jerusalem would flow down Mount Zion to the rest of the land. Rendtorff ’s Covenant Formula B, which emphasized Israel as Yahweh’s possession, concluded this oath. The second, 20:5–​6, was made with the seed of Jacob in Egypt. Rendtorff ’s Covenant Formula A concluded this oath-​making ceremony, which emphasized God’s desire to be Jacob’s patron deity. The two passages combined create the Bundesformel, Rendtorff ’s Formula C, which, as we saw above, expresses the full statement of Block’s God–​land–​people triad. Both oath-​making events initiated two eternal covenants, the one with Jerusalem/​land, and the other with Jacob. Finally, both eternal covenants deal with the divine kingship of Yahweh, implied by the election of Jerusalem, but stated explicitly in 20:33.

2.3  The Holiness Code: Ezekiel’s Authoritative Covenantal Stipulations In ancient Israel, as with the ancient world in general, while a covenant was considered sacrosanct—​being established in antiquity—​its stipulations could be updated and new ordinances could be amended.49 In regard to Ezekiel, the two eternal covenants that elected both Jerusalem and the seed of Jacob to their special status were indeed treated as having been established in antiquity. Yet the question remains as to the covenantal stipulations that Ezekiel considered to be in effect in his day—​the ones against which the House of Israel rebelled, and the ones that defined the state of holiness that the exiles were being transformed to attain. For Ezekiel, the authoritative stipulations appear to have been those preserved in Lev 17–​26, the Holiness Code (H). In his commentary, Walther Zimmerli impressively details many of the linguistic connections between the prophet and H. However, Zimmerli allowed his conclusions to remain fuzzy, stating that “the circles which must have given to H its (pre-​P Document) form must not be sought too far from the circles which transmitted the book of Ezekiel,” and admitting at the outset that “the question needs further intensive study in monographs.”50 In the ensuing decades, scholarship, always abhorring a vacuum, filled the void, first with the work of Ka Leung Wong (2001), and then with that of Michael A. Lyons (2009).51 Wong’s argument was that the punishment suffered at the exile was well-​deserved retribution for its sin, if viewed from the covenantal curses found in Leviticus 26.52 To this end, he itemized a detailed list of correspondences between texts spanning the entire

266   John Strong scroll of Ezekiel and Lev 26.53 Wong understood Ezekiel to have been dependent upon H, though the development of a method and detailed argumentation to that end fell outside of his purview.54 Enter Michael Lyons. He developed five criteria for determining literary dependence, with which he determined that Ezekiel was dependent upon H,55 which he dated to the pre-​exilic state.56 For Ezekiel, Lyons emphasized, H was an authoritative text,57 albeit one with which he could disagree and diverge.58 Specifically, for Ezekiel, there was no longer a possibility for repentance: “in Ezekiel, restoration is not contingent upon the people’s response, but on God’s action alone,” even though H allowed for such (Lev 26:40–​42).59 In the texts we have examined here, the impossibility of repentance has been expressed in the fact that Yahweh will elect the exiles to continue the eternal covenant, as well as God’s refusal to provide a prophet to perform the role of intercessor with the delegation of the elders of Israel.

2.4  Two Concepts of Covenant: Jeremiah versus Ezekiel Before drawing this discussion to a close, our understanding of Ezekiel’s theology of covenant as an eternal covenant can be deepened by contrasting it with a competing theology: Jeremiah’s covenantal ideal.60 Two related qualities distinguish these concepts of covenant from one another: 1) whether or not Israel’s covenant with God was conditional; and 2) the necessity in the future for a new covenant. In 609 (cf. Jer 26:1), Jeremiah stood in the temple gate and called the people to amend their ways (v. 3) “with the result that I will let you dwell in this place” (v. 3).61 Jeremiah’s sermon in the temple gates conditions the people’s possession of the land on their obedience (cf. 26:3). The stipulations enumerated by Jeremiah repeat both the ethical demands of the Decalogue (i.e., do not steal, murder, commit adultery, swear falsely; v. 9) as well as the prohibition against worshipping other gods (v. 6, 9). These reflect the Jeremian tradition’s ties with Deuteronomic theology,62 whose covenant ideology was likewise conditional in nature (e.g., Deut 11:26–​28; 30:15–​30; Josh 24:14–​15).63 Significantly, Jeremiah’s sermon holds out an option—​“amend your ways; live in the land”—​but not an indictment. Granted, Jeremiah spells out the negative consequences that will transpire if the people do not respond according to the covenant stipulations of the Decalogue and Deuteronomic covenantal ideology (vv. 12–​15), but his use of Shiloh as a sermon illustration remains a part of Jeremiah’s call for repentance, not a pronouncement of judgment.64 Only upon the leadership’s refusal to repent was Jeremiah commanded to close out his prophetic role as intercessor for the people (7:16; and 11:14; 14:11).65 From the perspective of the Jeremian and Deuteronomic traditions, this was the point when the covenant had been broken—​and thus was no longer in force. Once broken, a covenant must be replaced, according to Jeremiah’s theology of covenant-as-conditional. This stance is narrated by means of another prose discourse in Jer 31:31–​34.66 In verse 31, Jeremiah promises a “new covenant” (‫שה‬ ָ ׁ ‫ ְּב ִרית חֲ ָד‬bərîṯ ḥăḏāšāh), using the standard verb ‫ כרת‬k-​r-​t (“to cut”). In Jeremiah, God does not

Ezekiel’s Concept of Covenant     267 remember (‫ זכר‬z-​k-​r) or cause to stand (hiphil stem of ‫ קום‬q-​w-​m) an eternal covenant, as we observed was the case in Ezek 16:59–​63. Instead, Jer 31:32 explicitly contrasts this new covenant with the one made with Israel’s ancestors. The innovative element, Jeremiah explains, will be that with this covenant God will write Torah (‫ ּתו ָֹר ִתי‬tôrāṯî) upon their hearts. For Ezekiel, neither the covenant itself nor the deity who initiated it required changing, and his solution to covenantal disobedience was to winnow down the covenant partners to the exiles, and purify them by shaming them. For Jeremiah, since the prior covenant was conditional, and the proper conditions were not met, the prior covenant had been voided—​requiring a new covenant to be made in the future. Jeremiah’s fix for past covenantal disobedience was to write the covenantal stipulations on the people’s hearts, so that those obligations no longer had to be taught or learned.

3.  Final Reflections Two further reflections merit some space. First, in light of how covenant permeated Ezekiel’s theological interpretation of the events of his day, why did he not speak of covenant more often and more conspicuously? I propose that the answer rests in Ezekiel’s view that the Yahweh–​land–​people triad had been shattered at the time of the exile; hence, God’s eternal covenants were not in effect for Ezekiel and his audience of exiles. Certainly, while God’s side of the eternal covenant continued, the people had removed themselves from its blessings.67 Very helpful in this regard, Tikva Frymer-​Kensky has argued that the flood myth encapsulated ancient Israel’s theology of the exile, and the nation used it to interpret the Babylonian exile. Inherent to the flood myth was the notion that the land would at times become polluted, necessitating that God reset creation by permitting the chaotic waters to wash over and absorb created Order for a time. During this period of de-​creation, God preserved a portion of creation through which God would then re-​create the earth. In the same way, the exile was a period of de-​creation of the land—​a time when it would lay fallow, allowing it to be purified of its defilement by its prior inhabitants.68 Using Frymer-​Kensky’s thesis as a framework, I have argued that Ezekiel’s unique vocabulary—​focusing upon his frequently used terms ‫ אַ ְדמַ ת ִי ְׂש ָראֵ ל‬ˀaḏmaṯ yiśrāˀēl “primeval soil of Israel” (as opposed to the ‫ אֶ ֶרץ‬ˀereṣ “land” of Israel) and ‫ אֲ דֹנָי יהוה‬ˀăḏōnāy Yhwh “Sovereign Lord Yahweh” as exemplars—​reflects his belief that at the time of the exile, Israel had devolved into an uncreated, chaotic state. Only with the re-​creation of the exiles as the new people (37:1–​14), on the land (37:15–​21), supplying the temple (chs. 40–​48) would Israel’s created Order be re-​established. The title given to Ezekiel at his commissioning, ‫ ּ ֶבן־אָ ָדם‬ben-ˀāḏām (“Mortal”), signified his special role as an intermediary who, like Noah, would in essence midwife the exiles as the new, created Israel.69 Hence, during the exile—​that is, while the flood waters of Chaos swirled—​God’s eternal covenant did not have a role to play and was not in force. The absence of covenant from

268   John Strong his vocabulary, then, was also a part of his rhetoric, through which he argued that the exiles would become the re-​created Israel on refreshed soil, enjoying the blessings promised by God’s past eternal covenants, which God would remember at an appointed time in the future. Second, and in contrast to Jeremiah, Ezekiel’s covenantal theology did not require repentance on the part of the people.70 Repentance could not repair their breach of contract. Since the covenant promised Israel’s election unconditionally, repentance was otiose. What was needed was a covenant partner, an elected people, who were different in nature from the former Israel. According to Ezekiel, this transformation would be effected, as we have seen, by the exile. The exiles would suffer shame (16:59–​63; 14:9–​11; 11:14–​21; 36:23a), and they would be reconciled to the justice of their shame (14:20–​22), but at no time would they be declared righteous. Neither could they repent. Not only was the eternal covenant wholly situated on the divine side of the earthly/​heavenly divide, but also the people’s ability to obey the covenant would in the end be the product of God’s transformative shaming during exile. To review, covenant is not a conspicuous aspect of Ezekiel’s prophecies, yet it still played a foundational role in his theology and future expectations. In passages that most probably stem from the prophet, two locutions convey Ezekiel’s theology of covenant: the rather bland statement expressed by the Bundesformel, and the more descriptive ‫ב ִרית עוֹלָם‬, ְּ the eternal covenant. Both express that for Ezekiel, the covenants that Yahweh made with Jerusalem (and by extension, the land) and the people, the seed of Jacob, continued in effect because neither God nor what God initiated had changed. The earthly side of things, however, could be modified. Jerusalem would retain its elevated status, although its role would be downgraded to a secular space that supported the temple and temple lands, where Yahweh’s presence would be located “Over There” (43:7; 48:35). The election was likewise resettled solely on the exiles, whose experience in Babylon would alter their very nature so that they would become capable of obedience. Early in the restoration, I have suggested, the tradents of Ezekiel’s prophecies announced the cessation of hostilities through the covenant of peace. While the stipulations of the Holiness Code (Leviticus 17–​26) were authoritative for Ezekiel, covenantal stipulations were malleable. Hence, although Ezekiel produced a vision for Israel’s future relationship with God’s abiding presence (Ezekiel 40–​48), the precise stipulations governing this relationship were left to the coming generations,71 descendants of the shamed exiles, who would be capable of covenantal loyalty.

Notes 1. See, for example, the comment by Franz Sedlmeier, Das Buch Ezechiel (Stuttgart: Verlag Katholisches Bibelwerk, 2002), 1:219; “Das Thema des Bundes . . . ist für Ezechiel kein Hauptthema.” 2. Bautch, Glory and Power, Ritual and Relationship: The Sinai Covenant in the Postexilic Period, (LHBOTS 471; New York: T&T Clark, 2009), 10. Paul Kalluveettil, Declaration and

Ezekiel’s Concept of Covenant     269 Covenant: A Comprehensive Review of Covenant Formulae from the Old Testament and the Ancient Near East (AnBib 88; Rome: Biblical Institute Press, 1982): “The word ‘covenant’ poses a problem. Although the most frequent term for covenant is berît (287 occurrences) there are in the OT ‘numerous references to covenant and covenant relationships where this term does not occur’. It is then illogical to restrict the study only to those texts where the word berît occurs. Covenant seems to be a broad category which includes berît passages as well as other texts which contain the idea even though not always verbally expressed” (p. 3, where Kalluveettil is quoting Mendenhall, IDB 1:715; and pp. 5–​6). 3. Bautch, Glory and Power, 20. 4. In Ezekiel, the term ‫ ְּב ִרית‬is mentioned a total of seven times in four passages: 16:59, 60; 17:13, 15, 18; 34:26; and 37:26. 5. See, e.g., Margaret S. Odell, Ezekiel (Smyth & Helwys Bible Commentary; Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 2005), 205–​207. 6. Ezek 11:20; 14:11; 34:24; 36:28; 37:23, and 27. Translations in this chapter are my own. I prefer stilted renderings if they reflect the Hebrew better. 7. Note that 36:26 does not appear in the ancient manuscript P967. See the discussions of Walther Zimmerli, Ezekiel, trans. James D. Martin (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983), 2:219–​220, 221–​222 (on 34:23–​24 and 25–​30); 2:244–​246 (on 36:28); 2:271–​273 (on 37:27); and Franz Sedlmeier, Das Buch Ezechiel, 2:161–​163 (on 34:24); 2:185–​191; 2:225–​226 (on 37:27). 8. See also Zimmerli’s comments, Ezekiel, 2:271. 9. Rolf Rendtorff underscores an important relationship that existed between the concepts of covenant and of election. See Rendtorff, The Covenant Formula: An Exegetical and Theological Investigation, trans. Margaret Kohl (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1998), 3–​4, and 8–​10. 10. Even if 11:14–​21 are deemed to be secondary to the vision of Ezekiel 8–​11, the text nevertheless most likely stems from Ezekiel during the early exilic period and contributes to the content of the vision by addressing a concern of the elders (8:1). See the discussions of Zimmerli (Ezekiel, 1:231, 256–​263), who understands 11:14–​21 to be secondary yet stemming from an exilic setting, from between 597 and 587 bce. Odell helpfully identifies numerous elements connecting 11:14–​21 to the context of Ezekiel 8–​11 (Ezekiel, 1–​3). Block’s reading emphasizes the editorial unity of Ezekiel 8–​11, while recognizing that 11:14–​21 interrupts the vision report; Ezekiel 1–​24 (NICOT; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997), 273, 342–​343. Block likewise dates the text as prior to 587 bce. 11. Cf. Block, Ezekiel 1–​24, 331–​332; and Moshe Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20 (AB 22; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1986), 193–​195. 12. The precise understanding of ‫ ִמ ְקדָּ ׁש ְמעַ ט‬is debated. I read ‫ ְמעַ ט‬to indicate that God’s presence in exile is temporary, until the founding of the second temple as foreseen in Ezekiel 40–​43 (“Grounding Ezekiel’s Heavenly Ascent: A Defense of Ezek 40–​48 as a Program for Restoration,” SJOT 26:2 (2012):192–​211), pace Paul Joyce, who reads ‫ ְמעַ ט‬to indicate degree, and so suggests: “Yet I have become a sanctuary to them (albeit in small measure)”; Ezekiel (LHBOTS 482; New York: T&T Clark, 2007), 113–​114. 13. Dalit Rom-​Shiloni, Exclusive Inclusivity: Identity Conflicts between the Exiles and the People who Remained: 6th–​5th Centuries bce (LHBOTS 543; New York: Bloomsbury/​T&T Clark, 2013), 262. 14. The LXX suggests a Vorlage that reads ‫ גלותך‬gālûṯeḵā (“your exiles”), but I accept the MT’s reading, ‫ גְ אֻ ּלָתֶ ָך‬gəˀullāṯeḵā “your redeemers.” Redemption of the land is precisely the issue

270   John Strong at hand, and ‫ גְ אֻ ּלָתֶ ָך‬accurately defines Ezekiel’s comrades-​in-​exile as the ones who will redeem the land. See also Zimmerli, Ezekiel, 2:229, 261. 15. Daniel I. Block, The Gods and the Nations: Studies in Ancient Near Eastern National Theology (ETSMS 2; Jackson, MS: Evangelical Theological Society, 1988), 5–​6, 7–​23. 16. Concerning Jer 31:31–​34, Bautch states: “There is the implication that with the new covenant God improves upon the old covenant and perhaps even learns something from its ineffectiveness”; Glory and Power, 30–​31. 17. The pertinent language includes such locutions as “If anyone at all from the house of Israel . . . ” (‫יש ִמ ּ ֵבית ִי ְׂש ָראֵ ל‬ ׁ ‫יש ִא‬ ׁ ‫ ִא‬ˀîš ˀîš mibbêṯ yiśrāˀêl . . . ), coupled with the resulting punishment, “ . . . that party shall be cut off from the midst of his people” (‫יש‬ ׁ ‫וְ נִכְ ַרת הָ ִא‬ ֹ ‫)הַ הוּא ִמ ּ ֶק ֶרב עַ ּמו‬.” Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1:302. 18. Mosis, R. “‫ פתה‬pth; ‫ ּ ֶפ ִתי‬peṯî; ‫ ּ ְפתַ ּיוּת‬peṯayyûṯ.” In Theological Dictionary, edited by Botterweck, Ringgren, and Heinz-​Josef Fabry, 12:162–​72. “Hence pty/​h refers to a certain type of person lacking the necessary maturity and understanding: such persons are accordingly often portrayed as being young. At the same time, they are both in need of and open to instruction and education.” Mosis cites as an example the episode involving Micaiah ben Imlah, which reports that Yahweh sent a lying spirit to the prophets (using the piel stem of ‫)פתה‬, in order to make the king of Israel mistakenly go into battle. 19. See Ezek 3:22–​27. In connection to 14:1–​11, Robert Wilson argued that Ezekiel remained mute in the sense that he was not permitted to serve in the capacity of advocate ( ַ‫ )מו ֹכִ יח‬for the people (3:26). See “An Interpretation of Ezekiel’s Dumbness,” VT 22 (1972): 101–​104. 20. Jacqueline Lapsley has argued that the shame of exile created within the exiles “self-​ knowledge,” eventuating in the acquisition of a new moral self. According to Lapsley, Ezekiel believed that transformation in human moral character could be effected only by God. See Jacqueline E. Lapsley, Can These Bones Live? The Problem of the Moral Self in the Book of Ezekiel (BZAW 301; New York: Walter de Gruyter, 2000), 109–​157; and “Shame and Self-​Knowledge: The Positive Role of Shame in Ezekiel’s View of the Moral Self,” in The Book of Ezekiel: Theological and Anthropological Perspectives, ed. Margaret S. Odell and John T. Strong (SBL Symposium Series 9; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000), 143–​173. 21. Zimmerli, Ezekiel, 1:25–​26. 22. See the discussion of Rom-​Shiloni, Exclusive Inclusivity, 193–​196. 23. I have argued that this latter transformation of “soil” into “land” is part of a broader motif in Ezekiel’s prophecies, in which Yahweh actually de-​creates the “land of Israel” (‫אֶ ֶרץ ִי ְׂש‬ ‫ ָראֵ ל‬ˀereṣ yiśrāˀēl), rendering it the primeval soil of Israel (‫ אַ ְדמַ ת ִי ְׂש ָראֵ ל‬ˀaḏmat yiśrāˀēl), which is how Ezekiel identified the territory until it is re-​created into land that is again cultivated and possessed by a people (cf. 47:13–​48:20). Ezek 37:15–​23 is the pivot point of the latter process, where the primeval soil is transformed into created, life-​sustaining land—​a parallel to the revivification of the people in 37:1–​14. See my essay “Cosmic Re-​Creation and Ezekiel’s Vocabulary,” in Ezekiel: Current Debates and Future Directions, ed. William A. Tooman and Penelope Barter (FAT 112; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017), 245–​284. 24. Although Jon Levenson uses the term “covenant of grant”—​borrowing from Moshe Weinfeld, “The Covenant of Grant in the Old Testament and in the Ancient Near East,” JAOS 90/​2 (1970): 184–​203—​he defines the key elements of an eternal covenant as it applies to David. David’s dynasty will be “endless.” God is the party under oath—​David has already satisfied the requisite claims. The covenant is not conditioned on history and morality, but rather is based upon the supra-​historical constant of God’s commitment. Levenson also

Ezekiel’s Concept of Covenant     271 identifies the covenants with Noah, Abraham, and Phinehas, each of which are identified in their respective biblical texts as a ‫ ְּב ִרית עוֹלָם‬bərîṯ ˁôlām, an eternal covenant. See Sinai and Zion: An Entry into the Jewish Bible (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1985), 100–​101. In his discussion of the eternal covenant with Noah, John Goldingay similarly highlights the everlasting guarantee to humankind, and that it is an unconditional, one-​sided commitment on God’s part; “Covenant, OT and NT.” In New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible, (edited by Katharine Doob Sakenfeld; Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 2006), 1:768. 25. See Sedlmeier, Das Buch Ezechiel, 2:226, 229; Allen, Ezekiel 20–​48, 191–​192; and Zimmerli, Ezekiel, 2:271–​272. 26. See the discussions of Block (Ezekiel 1–​24, 463–​464) and Moshe Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 22; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1986), 294–​297. 27. Eising states that in connection with the covenant idea and as applied to God, ‫זכר‬ presupposes the existence of a covenant, expresses its eternal duration, and expresses God’s mercy “‫ זָכַ ר‬zākhar; ‫ זֵכֶ ר‬zēkher; ‫ זִ ּ ָכרו ֹן‬zikkārôn; ‫ְכ ָרה‬ ָ ּ ‫ אַ ז‬ʾazkārāh,” In Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament, edited by G. Johannes Botterweck and Helmer Ringgren [translated by David Green; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1980], 4:70). 28. See G. F. Hasel, “‫ ּ ָכ ַרת‬kāraṯ; ‫ ְּכ ֻרתו ֹת‬keruṯôṯ; ‫ ְּכ ִריתֻ ת‬kerîṯuṯ,” In Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament, edited by G. Johannes Botterweck, Helmer Ringgren, and Heinz-​Josef Fabry (translated by David Green; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995), 7:349–​352. 29. The hiphil-​stem of ‫ קום‬in relation to covenant can mean either to initiate a covenant, or to continue or maintain a covenant, depending on context. See J. Gamberoni, “‫ קוּם‬qûm.” In Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament, edited by G. Johannes Botterweck, Helmer Ringgren, and Heinz-​Josef Fabry (translated by Douglas W. Stott; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995), 12:699–​600. I concur with Ka Leung Wong, who has argued that ‫קום‬ used in context with ‫ זכר‬and ‫ ְּב ִרית עוֹלָם‬indicates the continuation of the earlier covenant with Jerusalem; The Idea of Retribution in the Book of Ezekiel (VTSupp 87; Boston: Brill, 2001), 46–​50. See also Marten Woudstra, “The Everlasting Covenant in Ezekiel 16:59–​63,” CTJ 6 (1971): 22–​48, especially 30–​34. 30. See Lapsley, Can These Bones Live and “Shame and Self-​Knowledge.” The confidence in the transforming power of shaming is disturbing to modern sensibilities, rooted as it is in the practice of husbands shaming their wives. See Sharon Moughtin-​Mumby, Sexual and Marital Metaphors in Hosea, Jeremiah, Isaiah, and Ezekiel (New York: Oxford University Press, 2008), 161–​165, and the bibliography listed there. 31. See Klaus Baltzer, Deutero-​Isaiah (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2001), 470–​471; and Joseph Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–​55 (AYB 19A; New Haven: Yale University Press, 2002), 368–​371. 32. Paavo Tucker construes the same understanding of an eternal covenant found in Ezekiel likewise in P and H: “In all of the covenants, the promises of Yhwh are unconditional, as Yhwh is committed to maintaining the covenant, though individuals or Israel as a community may violate the condition of the covenant which leads to loss of blessings.” Also: “Failure to comply with the obligations leads to the offending individuals breaking or annulling their side of the covenant and a subsequent removal from the blessings of the covenant promises, but it does not annul the promises.” Paavo N. Tucker, The Holiness Composition in the Book of Exodus (FAT 2/​98; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017), 57, 51–​52. 33. In regard to 34:25, see, for example, Zimmerli (Ezekiel, 1:212–​213, 221–​222), and Sedlmeier (Das Buch Ezechiel, 2:162–​163). In regard to 37:26, see note 30.

272   John Strong 34. Elsewhere in Ezekiel, ‫ ִּגבְ עָ ה‬giḇˁāh “hill” signals the landscape of Judah surrounding Zion (6:3, 13; 20:28; 34:6; 35:8; 36:4, 6). 35. I side with Sedlmeier on this point (Das Buch Ezechiel, 2:170–​171), and against Zimmerli (Ezekiel, 2:218–​220), Tuell (Ezekiel, 239–​240), and Jon Levenson (Theology of the Program of Restoration of Ezekiel 40–​48 [HSMS 10; Missoula, MT: Scholars, 1976], 84–​91). On the demotion of Judah’s kings to the role of prince (‫ ָנ ִׂשיא‬nāśîˀ) in Ezekiel, see Daniel I. Block, “Transformation of Royal Ideology in Ezekiel,” in Transforming Visions: Transformations of Text, Tradition, and Theology in Ezekiel, ed. William A. Tooman and Michael A. Lyons (Princeton Theological Monograph Series 127; Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2010), 207–​246. 36. Bernard F. Batto, “Covenant of Peace,” CBQ 49, no. 2 (1987): 187–​211. Batto states: “The original function of the motif in primeval myth was to signify a cessation of hostility toward humankind by the gods after the former revolted against the gods at creation. The gods ended their attempt to wipe out humankind by binding themselves under oath to maintain peace and harmony with humankind and even with the whole of creation” (187). Batto connects Ezek 34:25–​30 to primeval creation motifs (188–​189). 37. Bautch, Glory and Power, 33–​34. Batto and Bautch’s definition, and the one followed here, is not inconsistent with those commentators who emphasize not the cessation of hostilities, but rather the security upon and bounty of the land (cf. Lebensfülle in Sedlmeier, Das Buch Ezechiel, 2:176–​178). In the worldview of the ancient Near East, once the divine realm is at peace with the mortal realm, the fecundity returns to the created order, and chaos is held in abeyance. 38. Rendtorff argued that this portion of the Bundesformel, Formula B, communicated God’s desire to have Israel—​or in this application, Jerusalem—​as his own possession (Covenant Formula, 13, 22–​24, 25; “This is God’s gift and act of preference . . . ”). This formula is found most often in Deuteronomy; it expresses a suzerain’s commitment to care for his vassal. This emphasis is in keeping with the conclusion reached below, that 16:8 is ultimately an unconditional promise of blessings upon the land. 39. Galambush, Jerusalem as Yahweh’s Wife, 20; citing A. Fitzgerald, “The Mythological Background for the Presentation of Jerusalem as Queen and False Worship as Adultery in the OT,” CBQ 34, no. 4 (1972): 405. Galambush also states: “ . . . it was evidently a given in the West Semitic cultures of the ancient Near East that major cities were considered the female, divine consorts of the male gods whose temples they contained” (22). 40. Galambush, Jerusalem as Yahweh’s Wife, 32–​35. 41. Galambush, Jerusalem as Yahweh’s Wife, 123–​124, 140–​141. 42. Galambush, Jerusalem as Yahweh’s Wife, 128–​130. 43. Galambush, Jerusalem as Yahweh’s Wife, 147–​151. 44. I read the final ‫ ה‬on ‫ש ּ ָמה‬ ָ ׁ as a “Locative ‫ה‬.” See Paul Joüon, A Grammar of Biblical Hebrew, rev. edn., trans. and rev. T. Muraoka (Subsidia Biblica 27; Rome: Pontificio Istituto Biblio, 2006), §93c, p. 256. See also Soo J. Kim, “Yhwh Shammah: The City as Gateway to the Presence of Yhwh,” JSOT 39 (2014): 199–​206. 45. See also Ps 106:26. The gesture is repeated in vv. 15 and 23, renewing (so the verse-​initial ‫ וְ גַ ם־‬wegam-​) the initial oath of v. 5. See Zimmerli, Ezekiel, 1:407–​408; and Block, Ezekiel 1–​24, 626. Casey Strine has argued that this is not an oath-​making gesture, but rather signals Yahweh’s punishment of Egypt, which will result in transfers of land to Jacob; Sworn Enemies: The Divine Oath, the Book of Ezekiel, and the Polemics of Exile (BZAW 436; Boston: de Gruyter, 2013), 124–​127; 190–​191.

Ezekiel’s Concept of Covenant     273 46. In Rendtorff ’s view, Formula A emphasizes Yahweh’s desire to be Israel’s patron deity (Covenant Formula, 13, 14–​22). This is the “substance of ‘the eternal covenant’ ” made with Abraham in Genesis 17 (ibid., 21). As will be argued here, the choice of Formula A well suits this passage, which concludes with Yahweh declaring that he will be the Israelites’ divine King (20:32–​33). 47. See Sedlmeier’s discussion of the structure, Das Buch Ezechiel, 1:268–​269; and his Studien zu Komposition und Theologie von Ezechiel 20 (Stuttgarter Biblische Beiträge 21; Stuttgart: Verlag Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1990), 212–​213 (and following pages); and Block, Ezekiel 1–​24, 620–​624. 48. Sedlmeier, Das Buch Ezechiel, 1:270–​271; Ezechiel 20, 98–​105; Zimmerli, Ezekiel, 1:404, 412; Allen, Ezekiel 20–​48, 6, 12–​13. 49. For example, Deuteronomy—​whose authority was grounded in the belief that it was delivered to Israel by Moses in Israel’s ancient, formative past in the wilderness—​may have been a seventh-​century update of the eighth-​century Covenant Code (Exod 20:22–​ 23:33). See the discussions of Cornelis Houtman, Exodus (Historical Commentary on the Old Testament; Leuven: Peeters, 2000), 3:88–​91, 92–​96; and Rainer Albertz, A History of Israelite Religion in the Old Testament Period: Volume I: From the Beginnings to the End of the Monarchy, trans. John Bowden (OTL; Louisville, KY: Westminster/​John Knox Press, 1994), 182–​184. 50. Zimmerli, Ezekiel, 1:52 and 48. He first made this point in the German original of his commentary (Ezechiel 1, I. Teilband (Biblischer Kommentar Altes Testament, Band XIII/​1; Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Verlag des Erziehungsvereins, 1969). 51. Ka Leung Wong, The Idea of Retribution in the Book of Ezekiel (VTSupp 87; Boston: Brill, 2001); and Michael A. Lyons, From Law to Prophecy: Ezekiel’s Use of the Holiness Code (LHBOTS 507; New York: T&T Clark, 2009; and see also Michael A. Lyons, “Transformation of Law: Ezekiel’s Use of the Holiness Code (Leviticus 17–​26),” in Tooman and Lyons, Transforming Visions, 1–​32. 52. Wong, Retribution, 80, 86. 53. Wong, Retribution, Table 1, 80–​86. 54. Wong, Retribution, 80: “While it is possible that both H and Ezekiel have the same source, we tend to agree with scholars who hold that Ezekiel is dependent on H on the basis of their close lexical links, having the same sequence of blessings/​curses, some theological considerations, and the general claim that Ezekiel is a frequent quoter.” 55. Lyons, Law to Prophecy, 61–​67; his five categories are: modification, incongruity, conceptual dependence, interpretive expansion, and “other” criteria. See also Lyons, “Transformation of Law,” 6–​12. 56. Lyons, Law to Prophecy, 29–​35. 57. Lyons, Law to Prophecy, 111–​113, 155–​158. 58. Lyons, Law to Prophecy, 72–​73. 59. Lyons, Law to Prophecy, 85–​87; the quote is on 86. 60. See Dalit Rom-​Shiloni, “The Prophecy for ‘Everlasting Covenant’ (Jeremiah XXXII 36–​ 41): An Exilic Addition or a Deuteronomistic Redaction?” VT 53 (2003), 201–​223. 61. My rather stilted translation concurs with that of Lundbom. See his discussion in Jack R. Lundbom, Jeremiah 1–​20 (AYB 21A; New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1999), 461. And see also the translation offered by Robert Alter, The Hebrew Bible: Volume 2, Prophets: A Translation with Commentary (New York: Norton, 2019), loc. cit.

274   John Strong 62. Wilson, Prophecy and Society, 242–​243; Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, 27–​32. 63. See, e.g., Jon D. Levenson, Sinai and Zion (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1985), 23–​36; Stephen L. Cook, The Social Roots of Biblical Yahwism (SBLStBL 8; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003), 21, 38–​40. 64. Lundbom, Jeremiah 1–​20, 471–​472. 65. Wilson, Prophecy and Society, 238–​239. 66. William L. Holladay dates Jer 31:31–​34 to Jeremiah, construing that passage as a response to the proclamation of Deuteronomy in 587; Jeremiah 2: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Jeremiah, Chapters 26–​52 (Hermeneia; Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1989), 2:164–​ 165, 197–​199. So also Lundbom, Jeremiah, 2:464–​471. 67. See Tucker, Holiness Composition, 51–​52, 57. 68. Tikva Frymer-​Kensky, “Pollution, Purification, and Purgation in Biblical Israel,” in The Word of the Lord Shall Go Forth: Essays in Honor of David Noel Freedman in Celebration of His Sixtieth Birthday, ed. Carol L. Meyers and M. O’Connor (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1983), 399–​414, especially 409–​412. 69. See my essay “Cosmic Re-​Creation.” 70. See Paul Joyce, Divine Initiative and Human Response in Ezekiel (JSOTS 51; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1989), 55–​60; Paul Joyce, Ezekiel (LHBOTS 482; New York: T&T Clark, 2007), 20–​23, 143–​146; and Lyons, From Law to Prophecy, 85–​86; contra Gordon H. Matties, Ezekiel 18 and the Rhetoric of Moral Discourse (SBLDiss 126; Atlanta: Scholars, 1990), 109. 71. See Steven Shawn Tuell, The Law of the Temple in Ezekiel 40–​48 (HSM 49; Atlanta, GA: Scholars, 1992), 14, 54–​68, 175–​178.

Bibliography Albertz, Rainer. A History of Israelite Religion in the Old Testament Period: Volume I: From the Beginnings to the End of the Monarchy. Translated by John Bowden. Old Testament Library. Louisville, KY: Westminster/​John Knox, 1994. Allen, Leslie C. Ezekiel 1–​19. Word Biblical Commentary 28. Dallas: Word Books, 1994. Alter, Robert. The Hebrew Bible: Volume 2, Prophets: A Translation with Commentary. New York: Norton, 2019. Baltzer, Klaus. Deutero-​Isaiah: A Commentary on Isaiah 20–​55. Translated by Margaret Kohl. Hermeneia. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2001. Batto, Bernard F. “Covenant of Peace: A Neglected Ancient Near Eastern Motif.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 49, no. 2 (1987): 187–​211. Bautch, Richard J. Glory and Power, Ritual and Relationship: The Sinai Covenant in the Postexilic Period. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 471. New York: T&T Clark, 2009. Blenkinsopp, Joseph. Isaiah 40–​55: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. Anchor Bible 19A. New York: Doubleday, 2002. Block, Daniel I. The Gods and the Nations: Studies in Ancient Near Eastern National Theology. Evangelical Theological Society Monograph Series 2. Jackson, MS: Evangelical Theological Society, 1988. Block, Daniel I. The Book of Ezekiel: Chapters 1–​24. New International Commentary on the Old Testament. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997. Block, Daniel I. “Transformation of Royal Ideology in Ezekiel.” In Tooman and Lyons, Transforming Visions, 207–​246.

Ezekiel’s Concept of Covenant     275 Botterweck, G. Johannes, Helmer Ringgren, and Heinz-​Josef Fabry, eds. Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament (TDOT). Translated by David E. Green, Douglas W. Stott, and Mark E. Biddle. 16 volumes. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1974–​2018. Cook, Stephen L. The Social Roots of Biblical Yahwism, SBL Studies in Biblical Literature 8. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003. Darr, Katheryn Pfisterer. “The Book of Ezekiel: Introduction, Commentary, and Reflections.” In The New Interpreter’s Bible Commentary, edited by Leander E. Keck, 6:1075–​1607. Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 2001. Eising, H. “‫ זָכַ ר‬zākhar; ‫ זֵכֶ ר‬zēkher; ‫ זִ ּ ָכרו ֹן‬zikkārôn; ‫ְכ ָרה‬ ָ ּ ‫ אַ ז‬ʾazkārāh,” In Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament, edited by G. Johannes Botterweck, Helmer Ringgren, and Heinz-​Josef Fabry (translated by David Green), 4:64–​82. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1980. Fitzgerald, Aloysius. “The Mythological Background for the Presentation of Jerusalem as Queen and False Worship as Adultery in the OT.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 34, no. 4 (1972): 403–​416. Frymer-​Kensky, Tikva. “Pollution, Purification, and Purgation in Biblical Israel.” In The Word of the Lord Shall Go Forth: Essays in Honor of David Noel Freedman in Celebration of His Sixtieth Birthday, edited by Carol L. Meyers and M. O’Connor, 399–​414. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1983. Gamberoni, J., “‫ קוּם‬qûm,” In Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament, edited by G. Johannes Botterweck, Helmer Ringgren, and Heinz-​Josef Fabry (translated by Douglas W. Stott), 12:589–​612. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 1–​20: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. Anchor Bible 22. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1986. Hasel, G. F., “‫ ּ ָכ ַרת‬kāraṯ; ‫ ְּכ ֻרתו ֹת‬keruṯôṯ; ‫ ְּכ ִריתֻ ת‬kerîṯuṯ,” In Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament, edited by G. Johannes Botterweck, Helmer Ringgren, and Heinz-​Josef Fabry (translated by David Green), 7:339–​52. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995. Holladay, William L. Jeremiah 2: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Jeremiah, Chapters 26–​52. Hermeneia. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1989. Houtman, Cornelis. Exodus. Historical Commentary on the Old Testament. Leuven: Peeters, 2000. Joüon, Paul. A Grammar of Biblical Hebrew. Revised edn. Translated and revised by T. Muraoka. Subsidia Biblica 27. Rome: Editrice Pontificio Istituto Biblico, 2006. Joyce, Paul. “Ezekiel 40–​42: The Earliest ‘Heavenly Ascent’ Narrative?” In The Book of Ezekiel and Its Influence, edited by H. J. de Jonge and J. Tromp, 17–​41. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007. Joyce, Paul. Divine Initiative and Human Response in Ezekiel. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 51. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1989. Joyce, Paul. Ezekiel. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 482. New York: T&T Clark, 2007. Kalluveettil, Paul. Declaration and Covenant: A Comprehensive Review of Covenant Formulae from the Old Testament and the Ancient Near East. Analecta Biblica 88. Rome: Biblical Institute Press, 1982. Kim, Soo J. “Yhwh Shammah: The City as Gateway to the Presence of Yhwh,” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 39 (2014): 199–​206. Kutsko, John F. Between Heaven and Earth: Divine Presence and Absence in the Book of Ezekiel. Biblical and Judaic Studies from the University of California, San Diego 7. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2000. Lapsley, Jacqueline E. “Shame and Self-​Knowledge: The Positive Role of Shame in Ezekiel’s View of the Moral Self.” In The Book of Ezekiel: Theological and Anthropological Perspectives,

276   John Strong edited by Margaret S. Odell and John T. Strong, 143–​173. SBL Symposium Series 9. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000. Lapsley, Jacqueline E. Can These Bones Live? The Problem of the Moral Self in the Book of Ezekiel. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentlche Wissenschaft 301. New York: de Gruyter, 2000. Levenson, Jon D. Theology of the Program of Restoration of Ezekiel 40–​48. Harvard Semetic Monograph Series 10. Missoula, MT: Scholars, 1976. Levenson, Jon D. Sinai and Zion: An Entry into the Jewish Bible. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1985. Lundbom, Jack R. Jeremiah 1–​20: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. Anchor Bible 21A. New York: Doubleday, 1999. Lyons, Michael A. From Law to Prophecy: Ezekiel’s Use of the Holiness Code. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 507. New York: T&T Clark, 2009. Lyons, Michael A. “Transformation of Law: Ezekiel’s Use of the Holiness Code (Leviticus 17–​ 26).” In Transforming Visions, edited by Tooman and Lyons, 1–​32. Eugene, OR: Pickwick. Matties, Gordon H. Ezekiel 18 and the Rhetoric of Moral Discourse. SBL Dissertation Series 126. Atlanta: Scholars, 1990. Mosis, R. “‫ פתה‬pth; ‫ ּ ֶפ ִתי‬peṯî; ‫ ּ ְפתַ ּיוּת‬peṯayyûṯ.” In Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament, edited by G. Johannes Botterweck, Helmer Ringgren, and Heinz-​Josef Fabry (translated by David Green), 12:162–​172. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1980. Moughtin-​Mumby, Sharon. Sexual and Marital Metaphors in Hosea, Jeremiah, Isaiah, and Ezekiel. New York: Oxford University Press, 2008. Odell, Margaret S. Ezekiel. Smyth & Helwys Bible Commentary. Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 2005. Rendtorff, Rolf. The Covenant Formula: An Exegetical and Theological Investigation. Translated by Margaret Kohl. Old Testament Studies. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1998. Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit. “The Prophecy for ‘Everlasting Covenant’ (Jeremiah XXXII 36–​41): An Exilic Addition or a Deuteronomistic Redaction?” Vetus Testamentum 53, no. 2 (2003): 201–​223. Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit. Exclusive Inclusivity: Identity Conflicts between the Exiles and the People Who Remained (6th–​5th Centuries bce). Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 543. New York: Bloomsbury/​T&T Clark, 2013. Sedlmeier, Franz. Studien zu Komposition und Theologie von Ezechiel 20. Stuttgarter Biblische Beiträge 21. Stuttgart: Verlag Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1990. Sedlmeier, Franz. Das Buch Ezechiel. Neuer Stuttgarter Kommentar Altes Testament 21. Stuttgart: Verlag Katholisches Bibelwerk, 2002–​2013. Stevenson, Kalinda Rose. The Vision of Transformation: The Territorial Rhetoric of Ezekiel 40–​ 48. SBL Dissertation Series 154. Atlanta: Scholars, 1996. Strine, C. A. Sworn Enemies: The Divine Oath, the Book of Ezekiel, and the Polemics of Exile. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentlische Wissenschaft 436. Boston: de Gruyter, 2013. Strong, John T. “Grounding Ezekiel’s Heavenly Ascent: A Defense of Ezek 40–​48 as a Program for Restoration.” Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 26 (2012):192–​211. Strong, John T. “Cosmic Re-​Creation and Ezekiel’s Vocabulary.” In Ezekiel: Current Debates and Future Directions, edited by William A. Tooman and Penelope Barter, 245–​284. Forschung zum Alten Testament 112. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017. Tooman, William A. “Covenant and Presence in the Composition and Theology of Ezekiel.” In Divine Presence and Absence in Exilic and Post-​Exilic Judaism: Studies of the Sfja Kovalevskaja

Ezekiel’s Concept of Covenant     277 Research Group of Early Jewish Monotheism, edited by Nathan MacDonald and Izaak J. de Hulster, 2:151–​182. Forschung zum Alten Testament 2/​61. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013. Tooman, William A., and Michael A. Lyons, eds. Transforming Visions: Transformations of Text, Tradition, and Theology in Ezekiel. Princeton Theological Monograph Series 127. Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2010. Tucker, Paavo N. The Holiness Composition in the Book of Exodus. Forschung zum Alten Testament 2/​98. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017. Tuell, Steven S. The Law of the Temple in Ezekiel 40–​48. Harvard Semitic Monograph Series 49. Atlanta: Scholars, 1992. Tuell, Steven S. “Ezekiel 40–​42 as Verbal Icon.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 58, no. 4 (1996): 656–​657. Tuell, Steven S. Ezekiel. New International Biblical Commentary. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2009. Weinfeld, Moshe. “The Covenant of Grant in the Old Testament and in the Ancient Near East.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 90, no. 2 (1970): 184–​203. Wilson, Robert. “An Interpretation of Ezekiel’s Dumbness,” Vetus Testamentum 22, no. 1 (1972): 101–​104. Wong, Ka Leung. “A Note on Ezekiel VIII 6,” Vetus Testamentum 51, no. 3 (2001): 396–​400. Wong, Ka Leung. The Idea of Retribution in the Book of Ezekiel. Vetus Testamentum Supplement Series 87. Boston: Brill, 2001. Woudstra, Marten. “The Everlasting Covenant in Ezekiel 16:59–​63.” Calvin Theological Journal 6, no. 1 (1971): 22–​48. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezekiel: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel. Hermeneia. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1979–​ 1983. Translation of Ezechiel 1, I. Teilband (Biblischer Kommentar Altes Testament, Band XIII/​ 1; Neukirchen-​ Vluyn: Verlag des Erziehungsvereins, 1969), and Ezechiel 2, II. Teilband (Biblischer Kommentar Altes Testament, Band XIII/​2; Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Verlag des Erziehungsvereins, 1969).

Chapter 14

Ezekiel and t h e Foreign Nat i ons C. L. Crouch

Ezekiel is theology on the world stage. For all that Israel is the center of its attention, the book is acutely conscious of its international audience. Israel’s fate and thus Yhwh’s actions are under constant scrutiny from the nations, whose watchful eye and implicit judgment drive the action. The book’s characteristic refrain encapsulates its concern with these international observers of Israel and Yhwh’s relationship: “then they will know that I am Yhwh.” The nations serve primarily as witnesses to Yhwh’s true nature. For all to be well, therefore, the nations must know Yhwh. This is, however, not the only function of the foreign nations in the book of Ezekiel. They are put forward as the cause of Israel’s downfall, as their wayward behavior is adopted and enhanced by the Israelites in defiance of Yhwh’s commands. They serve as the agents of Yhwh’s punishment of Israel—​Babylon and its king, above all—​and therefore they appear as the destination of Israel’s punishment, as Israel is scattered among the nations in exile. As Yhwh’s agents—​indeed, by their very existence—​however, the nations threaten to undermine Yhwh’s authority. Substantial parts of the book are therefore devoted to emphasizing the nations’ proper subordination to Yhwh; especially the section known as the oracles against the nations (Ezekiel 25–​32) seeks to put them in their rightful place. It is perhaps little surprise that, in Ezekiel’s visions of the future, the foreign nations are almost entirely hidden from view. In what follows we will examine the various roles played by the foreign nations in Ezekiel, with particular attention to the relationship among them. We will take a largely synchronic approach; although certain aspects of the foreign nations’ presentation are more, or less, prominent in different parts of the book, the picture overall is quite consistent. The minor variations in their presentation, though they will be noted, are not sufficient to warrant an extensively diachronic analysis in an investigation of the present scope.

Ezekiel and the Foreign Nations     279

1.  The Foreign Nations as Cause of Israel’s Downfall The foreign nations’ involvement in Israel’s sin and consequent destruction is of two types. First, Israel is accused of imitating the religious abominations of the foreign nations, defiling the temple through the adoption of foreign practices, and offending Yhwh to the point of God’s departure from the sanctuary. This role for the nations—​as the source of Israel’s inspiration in its pursuit of non-​Yahwistic cultic activities—​is most prominent in Ezekiel’s vision of the abominations occurring in the temple precincts, in ­chapter 8. Although exactly what is happening in each of the parts of this vision is not wholly clear, it is widely agreed that there is a foreign component to some, if not all, of the activities that Ezekiel sees.1 The significance of these activities for Yhwh’s judgment on the inhabitants of Jerusalem in ­chapters 9–​11—​and the specifically problematic nature of their association with non-​Israelite nations—​is clear in Yhwh’s explanation of the devastation he has wrought: “Then you shall know that I am Yhwh, whose statutes you have not followed, and whose ordinances you have not kept, but you have acted according to the ordinances of the nations that are around you” (11:12).2 Although the foreign nations as the source of Israel’s bad habits is less prominent in most other parts of the book, a similar association between Israel’s downfall and its adoption of foreign habits occurs also in the litany of disasters which constitute Israel’s history with Yhwh (­chapter 20), and in the provisions for the restored temple (­chapters 40–​48).3 In the first case, immediately upon Yhwh’s choice of Israel in Egypt we hear of Israel’s refusal to abandon Egyptian practices: They rebelled against me and would not listen to me; not one of them cast away the detestable things their eyes feasted on, nor did they forsake the idols of Egypt. Then I thought I would pour out my wrath upon them and spend my anger against them in the midst of the land of Egypt. (20:8; cf. 20:16, 32)

Yhwh is a jealous God, unwilling to share the adulation of the Israelites with other nations’ gods; the Israelites’ worship of such deities defiles them and makes them unfit for relationship with Yhwh.4 The idea that there is a fundamental incompatibility between Israel’s worship of its particular god, Yhwh, and the Israelites’ worship of the gods of other nations lies beneath both this condemnation and the defilement depicted at greater length in the vision of the temple (­chapters 8–​11). As the worship of foreign gods defiled the temple, so too did the presence of foreigners. The prescriptions for the renewed worship of Yhwh at the end of the book make absolutely clear that such persons are never again to be permitted into the sanctuary: Say to the rebellious house, to the house of Israel, “Thus says the Lord Yhwh: ‘O house of Israel, let there be an end to all your abominations in admitting

280   C. L. Crouch foreigners, uncircumcised in heart and flesh, to be in my sanctuary, profaning my temple when you offer to me my food, the fat and the blood. You have broken my covenant with all your abominations. And you have not kept charge of my sacred offerings; but you have appointed foreigners to act for you in keeping my charge in my sanctuary.’ Thus says the Lord Yhwh: ‘No foreigner, uncircumcised in heart and flesh, of all the foreigners who are among the people of Israel, shall enter my sanctuary.’  ” (44:6–​9)5

The recurrent references to “abominations,” here as in ­chapter 11, signal that the presence of foreigners in the most sacred of Yahwistic spaces is conceived as a boundary violation: this is Israelite, Yahwistic space—​and non-​Israelite, non-​Yahwistic people are not permitted to enter it.6 By their presence and by their practices, the foreigners have diminished Israel’s uniqueness as a Yahwistic people. Taken to its inexorable conclusion, Israel’s adoption of these foreigners’ practices led to its dissolution as Israel and its dispersal among those very nations—​from which it was now indistinguishable. When the book links the sins of Israel with the activities of foreigners, it tends also to emphasize Israel’s propensity to surpass the deeds of these foreign nations; by this exaggeration of the nations’ sins, Israel condemns itself all the more. Thus in ­chapter 5, Jerusalem’s punishment is linked to the greatness of her offense when compared to her neighbors: Thus says the Lord Yhwh: “This is Jerusalem; I have set her in the center of the nations, with countries all around her. But she has rebelled against my ordinances and my statutes, becoming more wicked than the nations and the countries all around her, rejecting my ordinances and not following my statutes.” Therefore thus says Yhwh God: “Because you are more turbulent than the nations that are all around you, and have not followed my statutes or kept my ordinances, but have acted according to the ordinances of the nations that are all around you.” Therefore thus says Yhwh God: “I, myself, am coming against you; I will execute judgments among you in the sight of the nations. And because of all your abominations, I will do to you what I have never yet done, and the like of which I will never do again.” (5:5–​9)

Margaret Odell observes of this passage that “Jerusalem’s turbulence is scandalous not simply because it is worse than that of the nations but because it erupts in Jerusalem, at the center of God’s creating and sustaining activity.”7 The same note is struck in c­ hapter 16. As the diatribe of the allegory reaches its height, Jerusalem is negatively compared to her foreign sisters, Sodom and Samaria: You not only followed their ways, and acted according to their abominations; within a very little time you were more corrupt than they in all your ways. As I live, says Yhwh God, your sister Sodom and her daughters have not done as you and your daughters have done. . . . Samaria has not committed half your sins; you have committed more abominations than they, and have made your sisters appear righteous by all the abominations that you have committed. (16:47–​48, 51)

The same point is made in ­chapter 23’s allegory of the sisters Oholah (Samaria) and Oholibah (Jerusalem). Jerusalem’s offenses would be bad enough on their own, but they have been made worse by their excess and their foreignness (23:11, 40–​42). As Odell

Ezekiel and the Foreign Nations     281 explains, “Oholibah has imported the hāmôn [tumult] of the nations into her precincts and has thereby increased the scandal of her own chaotic behavior.”8 Second, Israel is accused of having pursued various foreign nations as political allies. This is the focus of the interminable diatribes of c­ hapters 16 and 23, in which Jerusalem is cast as the unfaithful spouse of Yhwh. Political alliances with other nations are depicted as dalliances with other lovers: “You played the whore with the Egyptians, your lustful neighbors, multiplying your whoring, to provoke me to anger,” declares Yhwh; “You played the whore with the Assyrians, because you were insatiable; you played the whore with them, and still you were not satisfied. You multiplied your whoring with Chaldea, the land of merchants; and even with this you were not satisfied” (16:26, 28–​29). Political alliances with other nations are cast as betrayals of Yhwh; political and religious exclusivity are overlaid one upon the other.9 Israel’s political loyalty, like its worship, should be to Yhwh alone. This logic is familiar from the oracles of Isaiah of Jerusalem: the reliance on alliances with foreign nations to shore up Jerusalem’s political security constitutes a failure to trust in Yhwh’s power to defend and protect the city and its inhabitants. Reliance on mere mortal powers to rescue Israel from its enemies is doomed to fail; none can match Yhwh. About Egypt, Ezekiel warns that it was “a staff of reed to the house of Israel; when they grasped you with the hand, you broke, and tore all their shoulders; and when they leaned on you, you broke, and made all their legs unsteady” (29:6b–​7; cf. Isa 30:1–​7; 31:1–​3).10 In c­ hapter 23, the futility of Jerusalem’s pursuit of such alliances is underlined by comparison: Samaria pursued the Assyrians, only in the end to be given up to them (23:5–​10). Jerusalem witnessed the consequences of Samaria’s reliance on foreign nations but failed to heed the lesson. It, too, pursued the Assyrians, then the Babylonians and the Egyptians in turn. Again, Jerusalem’s crimes are compared to those of the nations, emphasizing their depravity: “she was more corrupt than her sister in her lustings and her whorings” (23:11). Jerusalem’s judgment is explicitly linked to these political-​ religious infidelities, namely, the betrayal of its promises to Yhwh, in the form of political dalliances with foreign powers. The conflation of the political and the religious in these extended allegories is unlikely to be random imagery. Political alliances invoked the gods as witnesses, and also as guarantors of punishment—​should either party fail to live up to their commitments. When these chapters refer to the “idols of everyone for whom she lusted” (23:7, concerning Samaria; cf. 23:30, concerning Jerusalem), therefore, they may have in mind these specific acts of religious apostasy, in addition to condemning failure to trust in Yhwh in political terms: the idols of the foreign nations become the idols of Jerusalem (16:36; 23:37, 39, 49).11 Although grotesque, there is a kind of poetic justice in the consequences that loom as Jerusalem’s punishment: because it betrayed the Babylonians in favor of alliances with Egypt, it will be given into the Babylonians’ hands (23:17, 28). Even more notable is that the choice of this fate as Jerusalem’s punishment effectively allies Yhwh with Babylonia. Both have been betrayed by Jerusalem’s relentless pursuit of other saviors; both will be vindicated when Yhwh delivers Jerusalem into the Babylonians’ hands.

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2.  The Foreign Nations as Agents of Yhwh’s Punishment This alignment of Yhwh with Babylonia as the agent of Yhwh’s wrath is a particularly prominent aspect of Ezekiel’s attitude to the foreign nations.12 The role of a foreign nation in the exaction of Yhwh’s judgment is hinted already in the book’s first sustained oracle of disaster against the land and its inhabitants, as Yhwh declares that “I will hand it over to strangers as booty, to the wicked of the earth as plunder; they shall profane it. . . . I will bring in the worst of the nations to take possession of their houses” (7:21, 24). A similar warning is decreed for the house of Israel that remains yet in Jerusalem, as Ezekiel’s vision of the abominations in the temple—​and the judgment to be wrought upon the city as a result—​reaches its climax: “I will take you out of it and give you over to the hands of foreigners, and execute judgments upon you” (11:9). That Yhwh will banish the prince of Jerusalem to Babylon is noted in 12:13, but as late as c­ hapter 16 the human agent of this disaster is still identified only obliquely: I will gather all your lovers, with whom you took pleasure, all those you loved and all those you hated; I will gather them against you from all around, and will uncover your nakedness to them, so that they may see all your nakedness. . . . I will deliver you into their hands, and they shall throw down your platform and break down your lofty places; they shall strip you of your clothes and take your beautiful objects and leave you naked and bare. They shall bring up a mob against you, and they shall stone you and cut you to pieces with their swords. They shall burn your houses and execute judgments on you in the sight of many women; I will stop you from playing the whore, and you shall also make no more payments. (16:37, 39–​41)

That the agent of this devastation is Babylon is explicit only from c­ hapter 17—​a sustained allegory involving two eagles, a cedar tree, and a low-​growing vine. The eagles are Babylon and Egypt, the cedar tree is Jehoiachin, and the vine is Zedekiah. Like ­chapter 16, the root of the problem is disloyalty. Here, however, disloyalty to Yhwh is overlaid onto disloyalty to the king of Babylon. Zedekiah is condemned for his betrayal of his loyalty oath to (“covenant with”) Babylonia, in language identical to that used to describe Israel’s oath of loyalty to Yhwh (and its betrayal) (17:13–​19). The strength of this parallel, between Israel’s oath of loyalty to Yhwh and the king’s oath of loyalty to the king of Babylon, resides in part in the aforementioned invocation of the gods in the enforcement of such international treaties. The kings of the house of Israel swore by Yhwh that they would uphold this covenant with Babylon; their betrayal of that oath demands Yhwh’s intervention. Yhwh and Babylon are thus arrayed together against the king in Jerusalem. Indeed, the conflation of Babylon’s actions on behalf of its claim to loyalty and Yhwh’s actions on behalf of God’s claim to loyalty is remarkable, with references to one and then to the other in rapid succession in the explication of the allegory:

Ezekiel and the Foreign Nations     283 As I live, says the Lord, Yhwh, surely in the place where the king resides who made him king, whose oath he despised, and whose covenant with him he broke—​in Babylon he shall die. . . . Because he despised the oath and broke the covenant, because he gave his hand and yet did all these things, he shall not escape. Therefore, thus says the Lord, Yhwh: As I live, I will surely return upon his head my oath that he despised, and my covenant that he broke. I will spread my net over him, and he shall be caught in my snare; I will bring him to Babylon and enter into judgment with him there for the treason he has committed against me. (17:16, 18–​20)

From this point onward, it is clear that the actions of the king of Babylon are undertaken not only on his own behalf but also on that of Yhwh: the king of Babylon has been chosen to be the agent of Yhwh’s destruction. The sword that Yhwh prepares (21:8–​17) is wielded by the king of Babylon, whom Yhwh directs toward Jerusalem (21:18–​23).13 When Ezekiel revisits the allegory of Yhwh’s unfaithful wife, he dissembles no longer: Therefore, O Oholibah, thus says the Lord, Yhwh: I will arouse against you your lovers from whom you turned in disgust, and I will bring them against you from every side: the Babylonians and all the Chaldeans, Pekod and Shoa and Koa, and all the Assyrians with them, handsome young men, governors and commanders all of them, officers and warriors, all of them riding on horses. They shall come against you from the north with chariots and wagons and a host of peoples; they shall set themselves against you on every side with buckler, shield, and helmet, and I will commit the judgment to them, and they shall judge you according to their ordinances. (23:22–​24)

Babylonia, accompanied by its allies, is the agent of Jerusalem’s destruction; and it is Yhwh’s judgment that the Babylonians will mete out. That the king of Babylon has at last begun the deed is conveyed to Ezekiel through a divine word (24:2). In recompense for his efforts on Yhwh’s behalf—​however unwitting—​that king will be rewarded handsomely; the implied reward seems to have been Tyre but was later decreed to be Egypt (29:17–​20). Indeed, the claim that the actions of the king of Babylon against Yhwh’s own people are at the instigation and direction of Yhwh could hardly be clearer: Therefore, thus says the Lord Yhwh: I will give the land of Egypt to King Nebuchadrezzar of Babylon; and he shall carry off its wealth and despoil it and plunder it; and it shall be the wages for his army. I have given him the land of Egypt as his payment for which he labored, because they worked for me, says the Lord Yhwh. (29:19–​20, emphasis added)

Thereupon follow the oracles against Egypt, with their own reiterations of the same principle: Nebuchadrezzar acts against Egypt at the behest of Yhwh (30:10, 24–​25; 32:11–​12). Yet in Ezekiel, Babylon is not the only foreign power through whom Yhwh acts. The Assyrians serve a similar function against Samaria (23:9–​10), while Gog of Magog moves according to Yhwh’s stage directions (chs. 38–​39). Even Egypt seems briefly to be

284   C. L. Crouch allowed in on the action, as the first of c­ hapter 19’s two lion cubs is dragged off to Egypt (19:4), before the second is taken to the king of Babylon (19:9). As each of these passages anticipate, the role of the foreign nations—​especially Babylon—​as agents of Yhwh’s punishment against Israel means that they are also and often the resulting exiles’ destination. Only occasionally is a specific location named; usually the warnings are generic declarations to the effect that Yhwh will “disperse them among the nations and scatter them through the countries” (12:13–​19; cf. 6:8–​9; 11:16–​ 17; 14–​16; 17:21; 20:23; 22:15; 36:19).14 When the destination is more specific, it is usually Babylonia (12:13; 14:22). Wherever they go, it is among the nations that Israel will finally be forced to consider and confess to its sins against Yhwh: “Those of you who escape will remember me among the nations where they are carried captive, how I was crushed by their wanton heart that turned away from me, and their wanton eyes that turned after their idols” (6:9; cf. 12:16). As the book turns toward the future, it affirms that Yhwh “will take you [the house of Israel] from the nations, and gather you from all the countries, and bring you into your own land” (36:24; cf. 20:34, 38, 41; 28:25; 34:13, 27–​28; 37:21; 39:27).

3.  The Foreign Nations as Witnesses to Yhwh’s Holiness The foremost role of the foreign nations in the book of Ezekiel is that of witnesses. This is, ultimately, about recognizing the true nature of Yhwh: not only Israel but also the nations must rightly comprehend the power, the holiness, and the justice of Yhwh.15 There is a strong contextual component to the shifting manifestations of this part of the foreign nations’ role in Ezekiel; what and how the nations witness to Yhwh’s nature varies depending on the particular historical circumstances at hand. First and foundational is that the foreign nations serve as witnesses to Yhwh’s punishment of Israel. Again and again, the judgment pronounced on Israel is described as taking place “in the sight of the nations.” The reason that Israel will be publicly punished is expressed clearly the first time that Yhwh declares his intention to do so: Thus says the Lord, Yhwh: This is Jerusalem; I have set her in the center of the nations, with countries all around her. But she has rebelled against my ordinances and my statutes, becoming more wicked than the nations and the countries all around her, rejecting my ordinances and not following my statutes. Therefore thus says the Lord, Yhwh: Because you are more turbulent than the nations that are all around you, and have not followed my statutes or kept my ordinances, but have acted according to the ordinances of the nations that are all around you; therefore thus says the Lord, Yhwh: I, I myself, am coming against you; I will execute judgments among you in the sight of the nations. (5:5–​8, cf. 16:37)

Israel’s special status as Yhwh’s particular people has put Israel under exceptional scrutiny, for it is Israel which is meant to represent Yhwh to the world. Israel has failed,

Ezekiel and the Foreign Nations     285 catastrophically, to witness to the nature of Yhwh. Indeed, even the Philistines are embarrassed on Israel’s behalf (16:27)! Yhwh’s holiness and Yhwh’s power—​over both Israel and the nations—​are undermined by Israel’s behavior. Indeed, Israel’s bad behavior not only ignores Yhwh’s true nature, but witnesses against it. It offends Yhwh’s holiness, by defiling the people and the sanctuary with impure praxis and paraphernalia. Equally severe is Israel’s failure to acknowledge the loyalty that it owes to Yhwh, as the God that brought it out of Egypt; its pursuit of other gods and other powers constitutes a denial of Yhwh’s status as Israel’s one God and an expression of doubt in Yhwh’s power to act on Israel’s behalf. Through its infidelities, Israel has maligned Yhwh’s reputation, giving to others the honor due to Yhwh alone. As the consequence for having dishonored Yhwh, Israel is to be deprived of its own honor (see esp. 22:8, 16, 26). It is to be made “a desolation and an object of mocking among the nations around you, in the sight of all that pass by” (5:14, cf. 5:15; 16:57; 22:4). Israel must be punished in the sight of the nations in order that the nations know that Israel’s behavior does not reflect the nature of Yhwh; rather, it is abhorrent to and incompatible with Yhwh. Putting this principle into practice, however, proved problematic. The intention was that Israel, once sent among the nations, would themselves witness to the justice of Yhwh in exacting this terrible punishment upon them (12:16). This either did not happen or did not succeed. Indeed, that the destruction of Israel might fail in its goal of demonstrating Yhwh’s true character is anticipated already in the historical litany of ­chapter 20. Several times, Yhwh draws back from punishment: “I acted for the sake of my name, that it should not be profaned in the sight of the nations among whom they lived, in whose sight I made myself known to them in bringing them out of Egypt” (20:9, cf. 20:14, 22). It is perhaps, then, little surprise that the foreign nations did not understand Israel’s eventual punishment as a reflection of Yhwh’s true nature as a holy, just, and absolute power. Rather, they misconstrued it, thinking that Israel’s humiliation reflected the humiliation of its god, rather than Israel’s humiliation at the hands of its god. The nations saw Israel’s devastation at the hands of the Babylonians and concluded that Yhwh had been incapable of protecting them. Not only Israel (22:16) but also Yhwh is thus dishonored by Israel’s sojourn among the nations (36:22–​23). Indeed, even Israel’s humiliation has been taken too far: “they made you desolate indeed, and crushed you from all sides, so that you became the possession of the rest of the nations, and you became an object of gossip and slander among the people” (36:3; cf. 35:10–​12). The nations mistook Israel’s devastation in Yhwh’s hands as a sign of their own triumph; they believed that Israel could belong to them, rather than recognizing that Israel belongs only to Yhwh. The nations’ recognition of Yhwh’s power, first demonstrated by Israel’s ethnogenesis in Egypt, has now been undone by Israel’s dispersal among the nations. Yhwh’s fury is duly ignited (36:5–​6). To correct this misunderstanding and restore God’s reputation, Yhwh undertakes several types of actions. First, God moves to act against the foreign nations, bringing about the demise of several named nations as well as the nations in general. This is undertaken in most sustained form in the oracles against the nations (chs. 25–​32).16 Commentators frequently observe that the nations are condemned in these oracles for hubris, that is,

286   C. L. Crouch for having confidence in their own power over and against the power and authority of Yhwh. The effect of their devastation is thus, first and foremost, to demonstrate Yhwh’s power.17 Indeed, the warnings of their coming devastation are punctuated, again and again, with the declaration that, as a result of Yhwh’s actions, the nations “shall know that I am Yhwh” (25:5, 7, 11, 17; 26:6; 28:22, 23; 29:6, 9, 16; 30:8, 19; 25, 26; 32:15).18 As Madhavi Nevader observes, by “supplanting the kings of Assyria, Egypt, and Tyre . . . Yhwh is engaged above all in an apologetic exercise for their jurisdiction and power.”19 The destruction of the nations as a case study in Yhwh’s power is visible also outside the oracles against the nations. Thus, the desolation of Mount Seir, too, is so that “you shall know that I am Yhwh” (35:9, cf. 35:15). Likewise, in the oracles about Gog of Magog, we hear that Yhwh’s destruction of this unprecedented enemy is to “make myself known in the eyes of many nations: then they shall know that I am Yhwh” (38:23, cf. 39:6) Yhwh’s power far exceeds that of any earthly power; God may raise them up or bring them low. On occasion, this point is made even more specific, by explicating the devastation of the foreign nations as an object lesson in Yhwh’s exertion of power through the hand of Babylon. Several times Yhwh makes explicit statements regarding the use of Nebuchadrezzar, king of Babylon, for God’s own particular purposes; thus, for example, “I will bring against Tyre from the north King Nebuchadrezzar of Babylon, king of kings, together with horses, chariots, cavalry, and a great and powerful army” (26:7). Likewise, in the description of the fate of Egypt: I will strengthen the arms of the king of Babylon, but the arms of Pharaoh shall fall. And they shall know that I am Yhwh, when I put my sword into the hand of the king of Babylon. He shall stretch it out against the land of Egypt, and I will scatter the Egyptians among the nations and disperse them throughout the countries. Then they shall know that I am Yhwh. (30:25–​26; cf. 29:18; 30:10; 32:11)

As this emphasis on Nebuchadrezzar’s subordination to Yhwh’s will suggests, these texts reflect the particular problem raised by Yhwh’s deployment of a foreign king to enact punishment: just as the king in question is ignorant of Yhwh’s true role in his success, so too both Israel and the other nations are in danger of believing in some other source of Babylon’s power.20 A similar consciousness about the danger of Yhwh’s deployment of foreign kings to do God’s bidding undergirds Yhwh’s declarations that, even as Gog of Magog comes out against Israel, in truth it is Yhwh who calls the tune: “I will lead you out. . . . I will bring you against my land” (38:4, 16).21 Additionally, though less prominently, Yhwh’s actions against the nations confirm Yhwh’s justice. Yhwh does not exercise power randomly, but in order to execute right judgment on the nations. This is manifest in a variety of ways. The short oracles in ­chapter 25, for example, speak of Yhwh as an avenging deity, recompensing the nations for their offenses (25:5–​6, 14, 15–​17; cf. chs. 35, 36). The execution of justice against Tyre and Egypt is likewise a key motivation for Yhwh’s actions against them; though more

Ezekiel and the Foreign Nations     287 obliquely achieved, their destruction is directly linked to their hubris in purporting to be more powerful than Yhwh and to their responsibilities in leading Israel astray.22 This emphasis on the justice of Yhwh’s judgments against the nations, in turn, underscores that Yhwh’s earlier actions against Israel were also justly undertaken.23 Although the explicit expression of this point may well be among the book’s latest parts, the climactic conclusion of ­chapter 39 gets the point across most clearly: I will display my glory among the nations; and all the nations shall see my judgment that I have executed, and my hand that I have laid on them. The house of Israel shall know that I am Yhwh their God, from that day forward. And the nations shall know that the house of Israel went into captivity for their iniquity, because they dealt treacherously with me. So I hid my face from them and gave them into the hand of their adversaries, and they all fell by the sword. (39:21–​23)

The second means by which Yhwh acts to restore the divine reputation—​in the sight of Israel as well as in the sight of the nations—​is by restoring Israel to security and flourishing in its own land.24 As Katheryn Pfisterer Darr explains, “Israel’s enemies will come to know that Yahweh is God not only when they themselves are punished for their pride and greed, but when they witness the fate of Israel. Yahweh’s reputation among the nations . . . will be vindicated at last when God’s people and their land are restored.”25 This, again, is primarily a demonstration of Yhwh’s power, designed as an irrefutable counterargument to rumors that Israel’s destruction was the result of Yhwh’s impotence. This is perhaps most explicit in c­ hapter 36, in which several times Yhwh’s actions are said to respond to the negative words and deeds of those who have witnessed the preceding devastation.26 Thus Yhwh will effect Israel’s restoration “because the enemy said of you, ‘Aha!’ and, ‘The ancient heights have become our possession’ ” (36:2); “because you have suffered the insults of the nations” (36:6b, cf. 34:29); and “because they say to you, ‘You devour people, and you bereave your nation of children’ ” (36:13). The necessity that Yhwh act in order to correct this misapprehension on the part of the nations as to the nature of his actions vis-​à-​vis Israel is unmistakable: I scattered them among the nations, and they were dispersed through the countries; in accordance with their conduct and their deeds I judged them. But when they came to the nations, wherever they came, they profaned my holy name, in that it was said of them, “These are the people of Yhwh, and yet they had to go out of his land.” But I had concern for my holy name, which the house of Israel had profaned among the nations to which they came. Therefore say to the house of Israel, Thus says the Lord Yhwh: It is not for your sake, O house of Israel, that I am about to act, but for the sake of my holy name, which you have profaned among the nations to which you came. I will sanctify my great name, which has been profaned among the nations, and which you have profaned among them; and the nations shall know that I am the Lord, says the Lord Yhwh, when through you I display my holiness before their eyes. (36:19–​23)

288   C. L. Crouch The explicit object of Yhwh’s actions is the inversion of the foreign nations’ comments about Israel and their implications for Yhwh’s reputation among the nations: And they will say, “This land that was desolate has become like the garden of Eden; and the waste and desolate and ruined towns are now inhabited and fortified.” Then the nations that are left all around you shall know that I, Yhwh, have rebuilt the ruined places, and replanted that which was desolate; I, Yhwh, have spoken, and I will do it. (36:35–​36)

As the previous declaration of Yhwh’s intentions indicates, Israel’s restoration also serves to communicate Yhwh’s supreme holiness, both to Israel and to the foreign nations who will witness this restoration. As Israel’s earlier banishment from Yhwh’s presence witnessed negatively to Yhwh’s holiness—​exile having been necessitated by the dire incompatibility between Yhwh’s holiness and Israel’s impurity—​the restoration of Israel witnesses to Yhwh’s holiness (28:35; 38:16, 23; 39:27) and to the sanctification of Israel that attends its renewed relationship with Yhwh (37:28). While this emphasis is peculiar to parts of the restoration material that are frequently identified as later elaborations, they are essentially continuous with the emphasis in the parts of the book devoted to judgment: namely, that Yhwh’s actions are driven by concerns about the implications of Yhwh’s holiness for Yhwh’s proximity to Israel.

4.  The Foreign Nations and Ezekiel’s Vision of the Future The culmination of Yhwh’s actions against the nations is their effective disappearance from the stage. Thus: I will cut you [Ammon] off from the peoples and will make you perish out of the countries; I will destroy you. . . . Ammon shall be remembered no more among the nations, and I will execute judgments upon Moab. (25:7, 10b–​11a) I will make you a bare rock; you shall be a place for spreading nets. You [Tyre] shall never again be rebuilt. . . . I will bring you to a dreadful end, and you shall be no more; though sought for, you will never be found again. (26:14, 21) You [Tyre] have come to a dreadful end and shall be no more for ever. (27:36b; 28:19b)

Although the extremity of the foreign nations’ devastation as described in the oracles against them may be partly rhetorical, it is noticeable that where they are allowed to survive, it is in the most limited state—​and solely for the purpose of witnessing to Yhwh:

Ezekiel and the Foreign Nations     289 I will restore the fortunes of Egypt, and bring them back to the land of Pathros, the land of their origin; and there they shall be a lowly kingdom. It shall be the most lowly of the kingdoms, and never again exalt itself above the nations; and I will make them so small that they will never again rule over the nations. The Egyptians shall never again be the reliance of the house of Israel; they will recall their iniquity, when they turned to them for aid. Then they shall know that I am the Lord Yhwh. (29:14–​16)

Having once tempted Israel with its illusory displays of strength, Egypt’s punishment is to serve as an object lesson: the mighty will never pose such a temptation to Israel again. But Egypt’s perpetually lowly status is the exception that proves the rule: the nations, by and large, are eliminated from the stage by the end of the book. Mount Seir—​ not even its people, the Edomites, but only the geography—​makes a brief appearance in ­chapter 35, only to underscore the extent of its devastation; the mysterious Gog of Magog appears in ­chapters 38–​39 dancing upon Yhwh’s puppet strings. The elimination of the nations as distractions on the stage of Yhwh’s activities is clearest in the sustained vision of the restored temple in ­chapters 40–​48. The only appearance of a foreigner in these nine chapters is a negative one (44:9).27

5.  Conclusions The nations serve several, interrelated functions within the book of Ezekiel. First and foremost, they witness to Yhwh’s true nature as a powerful, holy, and just God. Israel’s punishment and restoration are directly tied to Yhwh’s need for the nations to recognize these characteristics. More negatively, the nations are also identified as a cause of Israel’s downfall, insofar as Israel has imitated foreign behavior rather than maintain their distinctively Yahwistic practices. Their dispersal among the nations reflects the dissolution of their Israelite identity through such activities. When Yhwh determines that Israel’s punishment cannot be put off any longer, the nations are called into service as the agents of the divine punishment. Babylon and its king are of particular, though not exclusive, significance in this endeavor. As unwitting agents of Yhwh’s punishment, however, the nations threaten Yhwh’s authority; the oracles against the nations in particular are therefore devoted to the nations’ proper subordination to Yhwh. Having served as a temptation to Israel and a danger to Yhwh’s authority, they are absent from Ezekiel’s visions of Israel’s future. Up to these final visions, however, the foreign nations play a central role in the book of Ezekiel’s theology, key to its account of Israel’s downfall, destruction, and ultimate restoration.

Notes 1. This is indisputable in the case of the women weeping for Tammuz, and possible for the other three abominations. For proposals and discussion, see Susan Ackerman, Under

290   C. L. Crouch Every Green Tree: Popular Religion in Sixth-​Century Judah (Harvard Semitic Monographs 46; Atlanta: Scholars, 1992), 37–​99; William H. Brownlee, Ezekiel 1–​19 (World Biblical Commentary 28; Waco, TX: Word, 1986), 131–​138; Corrine L. Carvalho, “A Serpent in the Nile: Egypt in the Book of Ezekiel,” in Concerning the Nations: Essays on the Oracles against the Nations in Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel, ed. Andrew Mein, Else K. Holt, and Hyun Chul Paul Kim (Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 612; London: Bloomsbury, 2015), 204; Walther Eichrodt, Ezekiel: A Commentary (Old Testament Library; London: SCM, 1970), 124–​125; Moshe Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20 (Anchor Bible 22; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1983), 168–​172; Andrew Mein, Ezekiel and the Ethics of Exile (Old Testament Monographs; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 119–​135; Margaret S. Odell, “What Was the Image of Jealousy in Ezekiel 8?,” in The Priests in the Prophets: The Portrayal of Priests, Prophets, and Other Religious Specialists in the Latter Prophets, ed. Lester L. Grabbe and Alice Ogden Bellis (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 408; London: T&T Clark, 2004), 134–​138. 2. In this chapter, all renderings of the Hebrew text are adapted from NRSV; “Yhwh” replaces “the Lord,” while “the Lord Yhwh” replaces “the Lord God.” 3. There is, of course, a certain irony in these condemnations, given the extent and the range of foreign traditions on which the book draws for its own rhetorical purposes. Exemplary on this topic but hardly exhaustive are Christoph Auffarth, Der drohende Untergang: “Schöpfung” in Mythos und Ritual im Alten Orient und in Griechenland am Beispiel der Odyssee und des Ezechielbuches (Religionsgeschichtliche Versuche und Vorarbeiten 39; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1991); Daniel Bodi, The Book of Ezekiel and the Poem of Erra (Orbis biblicus et orientalis 104; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1991); Carvalho, “Serpent in the Nile,” 204–​209; Brian N. Peterson, Ezekiel in Context: Ezekiel’s Message Understood in Its Historical Setting of Covenant Curses and Ancient Near Eastern Mythological Motifs (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2012); Donna Lee Petter, The Book of Ezekiel and Mesopotamian City Laments (Orbis biblicus et orientalis 246; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2011); C. A. Strine, “Ezekiel’s Image Problem: The Mesopotamian Cult Statue Induction Ritual and the Imago Dei Anthropology in the Book of Ezekiel,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 76 (2014): 251–​272; Christoph Uehlinger, “Virtual Vision vs. Actual Show: Strategies of Visualization in the Book of Ezekiel,” Die Welt des Orients 45 (2015): 62–​84. In some cases, other scholars have offered counter-​arguments, contending that Ezekiel’s primary interlocutor is native rather than foreign; but the overall picture of a prophet steeped in ancient Near Eastern traditions is not in dispute. 4. Carvalho notes Ezekiel’s distinctiveness in apportioning blame wholly to Israel, without condemnation of Egypt (“Serpent in the Nile,” 201). 5. A distinction is made between foreigners, ‫רכנ ינב‬, who are strictly forbidden, and the sojourners or aliens, ‫םירג‬, who are to be treated as Israelites and apportioned an allotment in the land (47:22–​23). A similar distinction is seen also in Deuteronomy; see C. L. Crouch, The Making of Israel: Cultural Diversity in the Southern Levant and the Formation of Ethnic Identity in Deuteronomy (Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 162; Leiden: Brill, 2014), 211–​223. These prohibitive verses in Ezekiel 44 are frequently considered a later addition to the text; on their relationship to Isaiah 56, including a review of previous research, see Nathan MacDonald, Priestly Rule: Polemic and Biblical Interpretation in Ezekiel 44 (Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 476; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2015); on their relationship to Leviticus 22, see Mark Awabdy, “Yhwh Exegetes Torah: How Ezekiel 44:7–​9 Bars Foreigners from the Sanctuary,” Journal of Biblical Literature 131 (2012): 685–​703.

Ezekiel and the Foreign Nations     291 6. See C. L. Crouch, “What Makes a Thing Abominable? Observations on the Language of Boundaries and Identity Formation from a Social Scientific Perspective,” Vetus Testamentum 65 (2015): 516–​541. 7. Margaret Odell, “The City of Hamonah in Ezekiel 39:11–​16: The Tumultuous City of Jerusalem,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 56 (1994): 479–​489, here 483. 8. Odell, “The City of Hamonah,” 484. 9. On the intertwining of religious and political offenses in the prophets’ use of marriage as a metaphor for the Yhwh–​Israel relationship, see Brad E. Kelle, Hosea 2: Metaphor and Rhetoric in Historical Perspective (Academia Biblica 20; Leiden: Brill, 2005), 284–​285. 10. For a clear summary of international relations in this period, see Carvalho, “Serpent in the Nile,” 196–​197, with further references; Carvalho further notes that the oracles against Egypt appear specifically tied to moments at which an alliance appeared appealing (201–​202). 11. On the likely religious component of Judah’s alliances with Egypt, see, e.g., Christopher B. Hays, Death in the Iron Age II and First Isaiah (Forschungen zum Alten Testament 79; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 288–​315. The range of deities invoked in Assyrian loyalty oaths may be seen in Simo Parpola and Kazuko Watanabe, Assyrian Treaties and Loyalty Oaths (State Archives of Assyria 2; Helsinki: Helsinki University Press, 1988). 12. On the identification of Babylon as Yhwh’s agent as part of a larger reworking of Israel’s mythological traditions in light of exile, see A. Strine and C. L. Crouch, “Yhwh’s Battle against Chaos in Ezekiel: The Transformation of a Judahite Myth for a New Situation,” Journal of Biblical Literature 132 (2013): 883–​903. 13. See Petter, Book of Ezekiel, 112–​114. 14. In keeping with the book’s overwhelming focus on Israel’s fate, these are almost invariably declarations concerning Israel. Once, however, the phrase concerns the Egyptians (30:23); their fate at the hands of the Babylonians mirrors that of Israel. 15. Paul Joyce, Divine Initiative and Human Response in Ezekiel (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 51; Sheffield: JSOT, 1989), 127. 16. There is no shortage of literature on the oracles against the nations and their purpose within the book. To mention only a few recent works, see Martin Alonso Corral, Ezekiel’s Oracles against Tyre: Historical Reality and Motivations (Biblica et orientalia 46; Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 2002); C. L. Crouch, “Ezekiel’s Oracles against the Nations in Light of a Royal Ideology of Warfare,” Journal of Biblical Literature 130 (2011): 473–​492; John Geyer, Mythology and Lament (Society for Old Testament Study Monograph Series; Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004); Lydia Lee, Mapping Judah’s Fate in Ezekiel’s Oracles against the Nations (Ancient Near East Monographs 15; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2016); Safwat Marzouk, Egypt as A Monster in the Book of Ezekiel (Forschungen zum Alten Testament 2/​76; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015); Madhavi Nevader, “Yhwh and the Kings of Middle Earth: Royal Polemic in Ezekiel’s Oracles against the Nations,” in Mein, Holt, and Kim, Concerning the Nations, 161–​178; Paul R. Raabe, “Transforming the International Status Quo: Ezekiel’s Oracles against the Nations,” in Transforming Visions: Transformations of Text, Tradition, and Theology in Ezekiel, ed. William A. Tooman and Michael A. Lyons (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2010), 187–​207; Markus Saur, Der Tyroszyklus des Ezechielbuches (Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 386; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2008); John T. Strong, “In Defense of the Great King: Ezekiel’s Oracles against Tyre,” in Mein, Holt, and Kim, Concerning the Nations, 179–​194; Ian Douglas Wilson, “Tyre, a Ship: The Metaphorical World of Ezekiel 27 in Ancient Judah,” Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 125 (2013): 249–​262.

292   C. L. Crouch 17. Occasionally, the destruction of foreign nations by Yhwh’s interventions is justified as necessary in order that Israel “will know that I am Yhwh,” usually with an implicit connection between the nations’ destruction and Israel’s restoration (28:24, 26; 29:21; 39:7, 22, possibly also 29:16). 18. “Because they scorned Judah, Yahweh threatens them with complete extermination. . . . The ego of Yahweh is clearly the focal point of the threat, expressed by the constantly repeated first person singular verbal forms. Yahweh cannot leave this contempt unpunished, because to despise Judah =​despising Yahweh. The use of the recognition formula emphasizes the fact that the Ammonites will become aware of this close relationship between Yahweh and his people. The Book of Ezekiel offers an ineluctably theocentric representation of the basis of Israel’s existence” (Bodi, Book of Ezekiel, 80). The oracles against the nations in c­ hapter 25 are often thought to be later additions to the book, but in their emphasis on the witnessing function they are in keeping with the oracles against Phoenicia and Egypt that follow. 19. Nevader, “Yhwh and the Kings,” 178. This is undertaken especially through allusion to traditions about Yhwh’s role as divine creator and divine king (Crouch, “Ezekiel’s Oracles”). 20. On the theological and mythological challenge posed by Yhwh’s use of Nebuchadrezzar in this way, see C. L. Crouch, “Ezekiel’s Oracles,” 473–​492; Strine and Crouch, “Yhwh’s Battle.” 21. This may, of course, be simply the result of the Gog of Magog oracles’ character as “thematic pastiche,” picking up on and reiterating themes present elsewhere in the book. See William A. Tooman, “Transformation of Israel’s Hope: The Reuse of Scripture in the Gog Oracles,” in Tooman and Lyons, Transforming Visions, 50–​110; William A. Tooman, Gog of Magog: Reuse of Scripture and Compositional Technique in Ezekiel 38–​39 (Forschungen zum Alten Testament 2/​52; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011). 22. See Crouch, “Ezekiel’s Oracles,” 488–​492; Ka Leung Wong, The Idea of Retribution in the Book of Ezekiel (Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 87; Leiden: Brill, 2001), 196–​252. 23. Similarly Raabe, “Transforming,” 190, 198–​200. 24. The tradition that the classical prophets spoke only words of doom looms long, with many interpreters still hesitant to attribute any of the book’s more hopeful parts to the prophet. Although they may in part constitute elaborations on a message initially comprised primarily of judgment, the extent to which the logic of this restoration material coheres with that of the judgment sections, together with the apparently long duration of Ezekiel’s activity, suggests that the possibility of some of this material deriving from the author of the judgment oracles ought not to be discounted out of hand. 25. Katheryn Pfisterer Darr, “The Wall around Paradise: Ezekielian Ideas about the Future,” Vetus Testamentum 37 (1987): 275. Janina Maria Hiebel makes the intriguing observation that, at least within the visionary accounts, Israel is always an object and never a subject: “the House of Israel has no causal involvement in the accomplishment of their restoration; it remains again, and especially here, the object of Yhwh’s dealings.” Ezekiel’s Vision Accounts as Interrelated Narratives (BZAW 475; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2015), 266–​267. This overwhelming focus on divine action, over and indeed against human action, contributes to the argument for Yhwh’s power. 26. On Israel’s revivification in ­chapter 37 as an act restoring Yhwh’s honor, see John T. Strong, “Egypt’s Shameful Death and the House of Israel’s Exodus from Sheol (Ezekiel 32.17–​32 and 37.1–​14),” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 34 (2010): 475–​504. On honor in Ezekiel more generally, including and especially its concentration in descriptions of Yhwh, see

Ezekiel and the Foreign Nations     293 Daniel Y. Wu, Honor, Shame, and Guilt: Social-​Scientific Approaches to the Book of Ezekiel (Bulletin for Biblical Research Supplement 14; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2016). 27. See Pfisterer Darr, “Wall around Paradise,” 271–​279. On the sojourner in 47:22–​23, see note 4.

Bibliography Ackerman, Susan. Under Every Green Tree: Popular Religion in Sixth-​Century Judah. Harvard Semitic Monographs 46. Atlanta: Scholars, 1992. Auffarth, Christoph. Der drohende Untergang: “Schöpfung” in Mythos und Ritual im Alten Orient und in Griechenland am Beispiel der Odyssee und des Ezechielbuches. Religionsgeschichtliche Versuche und Vorarbeiten 39. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1991. Awabdy, Mark. “Yhwh Exegetes Torah: How Ezekiel 44:7–​9 Bars Foreigners from the Sanctuary,” Journal of Biblical Literature 131 (2012): 685–​703. Bodi, Daniel. The Book of Ezekiel and the Poem of Erra. Orbis biblicus et orientalis 104. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1991. Brownlee, William H. Ezekiel 1–​19. Word Biblical Commentary 28. Waco, TX: Word, 1986. Carvalho, Corrine L. “A Serpent in the Nile: Egypt in the Book of Ezekiel.” In Mein, Holt, and Kim, Concerning the Nations, 195–​220. Corral, Martin Alonso. Ezekiel’s Oracles against Tyre: Historical Reality and Motivations. Biblica et orientalia 46. Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 2002. Crouch, C. L. “Ezekiel’s Oracles against the Nations in Light of a Royal Ideology of Warfare.” Journal of Biblical Literature 130 (2011): 473–​492. Crouch, C. L. The Making of Israel: Cultural Diversity in the Southern Levant and the Formation of Ethnic Identity in Deuteronomy. Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 162. Leiden: Brill, 2014. Crouch, C. L. “What Makes a Thing Abominable? Observations on the Language of Boundaries and Identity Formation from a Social Scientific Perspective.” Vetus Testamentum 65 (2015): 516–​541. Darr, Katheryn Pfisterer. “The Wall around Paradise: Ezekielian Ideas about the Future.” Vetus Testamentum 37 (1987): 271–​79. Eichrodt, Walther. Ezekiel: A Commentary. Old Testament Library. London: SCM, 1970. Geyer, John. Mythology and Lament. Society for Old Testament Study Monograph Series. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 1–​20. Anchor Bible 22. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1983. Hays, Christopher B. Death in the Iron Age II and First Isaiah. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 79. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011. Hiebel Janina Maria. Ezekiel’s Vision Accounts as Interrelated Narratives. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 475. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2015. Joyce, Paul. Divine Initiative and Human Response in Ezekiel. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 51. Sheffield: JSOT, 1989. Kelle, Brad E. Hosea 2: Metaphor and Rhetoric in Historical Perspective. Academia Biblica 20. Leiden: Brill, 2005. Lee, Lydia. Mapping Judah’s Fate in Ezekiel’s Oracles against the Nations. Ancient Near East Monographs 15. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature, 2016. MacDonald, Nathan. Priestly Rule: Polemic and Biblical Interpretation in Ezekiel 44. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 476. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2015.

294   C. L. Crouch Marzouk, Safwat. Egypt as A Monster in the Book of Ezekiel. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 2/​76. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015. Mein, Andrew. Ezekiel and the Ethics of Exile. Old Testament Monographs. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001. Mein, Andrew, Else K. Holt, and Hyun Chul Paul Kim, eds. Concerning the Nations: Essays on the Oracles against the Nations in Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 612. London: Bloomsbury, 2015. Nevader, Madhavi. “Yhwh and the Kings of Middle Earth: Royal Polemic in Ezekiel’s Oracles against the Nations.” In Mein, Holt, and Kim, Concerning the Nations, 161–​78. Odell, Margaret S. “The City of Hamonah in Ezekiel 39:11–​16: The Tumultuous City of Jerusalem.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 56 (1994): 479–​489. Odell, Margaret S. “What Was the Image of Jealousy in Ezekiel 8?” In The Priests in the Prophets: The Portrayal of Priests, Prophets, and Other Religious Specialists in the Latter Prophets, edited by Lester L. Grabbe and Alice Ogden Bellis, 139–​48. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 408. London: T&T Clark, 2004. Parpola, Simo and Kazuko Watanabe, Assyrian Treaties and Loyalty Oaths. State Archives of Assyria 2. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press, 1988. Peterson, Brian N. Ezekiel in Context: Ezekiel’s Message Understood in Its Historical Setting of Covenant Curses and Ancient Near Eastern Mythological Motifs. Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2012. Petter, Donna Lee. The Book of Ezekiel and Mesopotamian City Laments. Orbis biblicus et orientalis 246. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2011. Raabe, Paul R. “Transforming the International Status Quo: Ezekiel’s Oracles against the Nations.” In Tooman and Lyons, Transforming Visions, 187–​207. Saur, Markus. Der Tyroszyklus des Ezechielbuches. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 386. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2008. Strine, C. A. “Ezekiel’s Image Problem: The Mesopotamian Cult Statue Induction Ritual and the Imago Dei Anthropology in the Book of Ezekiel.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 76 (2014): 251–​272. Strine, C. A. and C. L. Crouch. “Yhwh’s Battle against Chaos in Ezekiel: The Transformation of a Judahite Myth for a New Situation.” Journal of Biblical Literature 132 (2013): 883–​903. Strong, John T. “In Defense of the Great King: Ezekiel’s Oracles against Tyre.” In Mein, Holt, and Kim, Concerning the Nations, 179–​94. Strong, John T. “Egypt’s Shameful Death and the House of Israel’s Exodus from Sheol (Ezekiel 32.17–​32 and 37.1–​14).” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 34 (2010): 475–​504. Tooman, William A. Gog of Magog: Reuse of Scripture and Compositional Technique in Ezekiel 38–​39. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 2/​52. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011. Tooman, William A. “Transformation of Israel’s Hope: The Reuse of Scripture in the Gog Oracles.” In Tooman and Lyons, Transforming Visions, 50–​110. Tooman, William A. and Michael A. Lyons, eds. Transforming Visions: Transformations of Text, Tradition, and Theology in Ezekiel. Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2010. Uehlinger, Christoph. “Virtual Vision vs. Actual Show: Strategies of Visualization in the Book of Ezekiel.” Die Welt des Orients 45 (2015): 62–​84. Wilson, Ian Douglas. “Tyre, a Ship: The Metaphorical World of Ezekiel 27 in Ancient Judah.” Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 125 (2013): 249–​262. Wong, Ka Leung. The Idea of Retribution in the Book of Ezekiel. Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 87. Leiden: Brill, 2001. Wu, Daniel Y. Honor, Shame, and Guilt: Social-​Scientific Approaches to the Book of Ezekiel. Bulletin for Biblical Research Supplement 14. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2016.

Chapter 15

E zekiel and th e Pri e st ly Traditi ons Stephen L. Cook

Perhaps more than any prophet before him, Ezekiel shows wide-​ranging familiarity with preceding prophetic and priestly tradition. (For background discussion of Ezekiel’s roots in Zadokite “HS” traditions, see Cook 2018, 9–​17; for a classic scholarly survey of the major tradition sources behind Ezekiel, see Zimmerli 1979, 41–​52.) His book betrays knowledge of widely varying traditions from historical eras both distant and contemporary. Though the style and content of all these influences helped shape his prophecy, Ezekiel had particularly clear affinities with certain specific priestly traditions and deep differences with others. Ezekiel incontestably interacts with preceding Israelite priestly traditions and narrative portrayals of priestly activity. By sampling key priestly constructs and themes in the book, an overview emerges illuminating which streams of priestly thought orient and fund Ezekiel and which streams the book contests. We start with parallels between Ezekiel’s activity and priestly traits of Elijah and Elisha found in the Deuteronomistic History. Much separates Ezekiel from Deuteronomy’s language and perspective, but Ezekiel as a literary protagonist aligns strikingly with these legendary priest-​like figures. Second, we turn to Ezekiel’s emphasis on holiness as a tangible life-​force, an idea prominent in the Elijah and Elisha legends. Next comes Ezekiel’s stress on Israel’s land as key to covenantal dynamics, a priestly understanding that differs from other clerical perspectives. Fourth (and relatedly), in contrast to alternative priestly positions, Ezekiel maintains a view of God’s holiness permeating the land. Finally, in concert with Deuteronomy, Ezekiel downplays the ancestral traditions of the Pentateuch. In exploring these sample priestly themes and positions, I focus primarily on three distinct complexes of priestly thought. As I will argue, each of the complexes aligns with one of three Israelite priestly lineages, namely, the Levites, the Aaronides, and the Zadokites. I associate Levite language and theology with Deuteronomy and the “E” material of the Pentateuch. The redactors of the Deuteronomistic History, who adopted

296   Stephen L. Cook and adapted the Elijah/​Elisha legends, belong in this clerical camp too. So do several writing prophets, including Hosea and Jeremiah, and the major editors of their books. A second complex of priestly thought, associated with the Aaronides, appears primarily in the Priestly Torah material (“PT”) of the Pentateuch and in the later sections of Isaiah (Isa 40–​66). The rubric Priestly Torah (PT) signifies that portion of the “P” compositional source in the Pentateuch emphasizing reverence before God’s towering otherness, God’s ancestral promises to bless Israel unilaterally, and Israelite society’s dependence in serving God on a ritually pure central sanctuary and its ceremonies. The Zadokite lineage of priests bore the traditions of a third theology, found in the Holiness Stratum (HS) of the Pentateuch and in Ezekiel. Other prophets belonging to this clerical camp include Zechariah and Joel. In this theology, Israel’s territory is, implicitly, a “holy land” indwelt by God, whose presence fills the temple. PT views the temple as sacred as well but does not extend its holiness out into the land. Differing from the Aaronides, the Zadokites hold that God’s indwelling promotes Israel’s sanctification. A quick illustration of priestly traditions in conflict within the Major Prophets may prove instructive as we begin our survey. Let us look briefly at Ezekiel’s familiarity with Jeremiah, a priest-​prophet of a different stripe. Whereas Ezekiel was a Zadokite priest, Jeremiah was a Levite. (On Jeremiah as a Levite, see Wilson 1980, 222, 231, 233–​ 235; Leuchter 2008, 265–​266 n. 19; 2017, ch. 6, pp. 189–​217; Peterson 2014, 32–​35; Cook 2019, 279–​280; on Ezekiel as a Zadokite, see Wilson 1980, 282–​286; Cook 2018, 9–​17; Sweeney 2001.) Ezekiel knows of Jeremiah’s prophecies and elaborates them at points, for example, famously expanding Jer 15:16 and its metaphor of eating God’s words (Ezek 2:8–​3:3). The differences between the two priests, however, largely eclipse the parallels. Jeremiah rides an inner emotional rollercoaster as he interacts with a God of intense relationships (see Jer 20:7–​18). Ezekiel, in contrast, makes hardly any references to God’s loving divine relationship either with himself or with Israel. Where Jeremiah wrestles with divine pathos, God’s iron-​hard sovereignty stifles Ezekiel. While Jeremiah and his Levitical kinfolk align with Deuteronomy, Ezekiel and his fellow Zadokites align with the clerical traditions of the Holiness School (HS). Scholars have sometimes thought Ezekiel partially embraced Deuteronomy’s thinking and theology. Robert R. Wilson, for example, identifies several Deuteronomic characteristics integral to the book of Ezekiel at all levels. He infers that Ezekiel was influenced by the Deuteronomic reform movement before he was exiled to Babylon. “He seems to have attempted to make his own personal synthesis of the Zadokite and Deuteronomic positions” (Wilson 1980, 284, see further pp. 136, 282–​286). Now, after several decades of familiarity with the contours of HS, scholars see this view from 1980 as a stretch. The commonalities between Ezekiel and Deuteronomic literature are due largely to their joint orientation on a bilateral, vassal-​treaty model of the covenantal relationship (see, e.g., Ezek 16:8; 34:30–​31). Caution is warranted on Ezekiel’s apparent use of Deuteronomistic diction, as Wilson (1999) himself has since noted. In fact, similar language and themes make an appearance even in extrabiblical inscriptions. Brian Neil Peterson (2014, 21) writes: “For example, the Moabite Stele from the mid-​ninth century

Ezekiel and the Priestly Traditions    297 BCE, which was discovered in 1868, has many ‘Deuteronomistic’ themes written in ancient Moabite!” Wilson is correct that Ezekiel adopts some Deuteronomic material. Core convictions of the prophet, however, separate him from Deuteronomy. In Deuteronomy Israel gathers at the central shrine to hear again the divine words spoken through Sinai’s fire (Deut 27:8; 31:9–​13; Josh 8:34–​35; 2 Kgs 23:2–​3). Calling on God’s name to re-​enact the Sinai encounter, Israel invokes a transient self-​exposure and intimate outreach of God (Deut 12:5, 11, 21; 14:23–​24; 16:2, 6, 11; 26:2) (Cook 2015, 110). Whereas Deuteronomy’s rhetoric speaks mostly of God making the divine name available for use in invoking God at the shrine, Ezekiel speaks of God’s bodily Presence (the “glory”; Hebrew: kābôd) permanently dwelling there. Ideally, Ezekiel holds, God’s “glory” indwells the temple. directly sanctifying Israel (Ezek 37:26–​28). It is highly tragic that Israel’s rebellion temporarily drives the glory away (Ezek 11:23). Klostermann deserves credit for basic discoveries clarifying Ezekiel’s specific priestly stream of theological tradition. In a forty-​four-​page study in 1877, he outlined Ezekiel’s dependence on the “Holiness Code” (“das Heiligkeitsgesetz”) in Lev 17–​26 (Klostermann 1877, 401–​445). Several historical critics of the second half of the nineteenth century proposed connections between the Holiness Code and Ezekiel. Thus, L. Horst argued in 1881 that Ezekiel was actually the redactor of Lev 17–​26, which he assembled out of older legal material (Horst 1881, 96). But it was Klostermann who saw that H fully preceded Ezekiel, who was greatly dependent upon it. Since the early 1990s, Israel Knohl and other scholars have shown H’s theology extends beyond Lev 17–​26 as Holiness School (HS) material found throughout the Pentateuch (Knohl 1995; see Cook 2018, 15–​16). Other scholars, such as Lyons and MacDonald have now demonstrated that this HS source material largely predates Ezekiel’s prophecies, which are dependent on it (Lyons 2009 and 2010; MacDonald 2015; see Cook 2018, 9–​17, for an introduction to scholarship on Ezekiel’s dependence on priestly tradition in the Pentateuch).

1.  Ezekiel’s Life as a Prophetic Legenda A neglected point of contact between Ezekiel’s book and earlier Deuteronomistic material is his striking presentation as a literary character akin to Elijah and Elisha. Elijah and Elisha, of course, are not Israelite priests in the line of Levi or Aaron. The genre of prophetic legend in which they appear, however, imbues them with a priestlike sanctity. Like the holy man (ʾîš-​ʾĕlōhîm) of 1 Kings 13, whose corpse even lions revere (v. 25), an eerie holiness adheres to them (e.g., 2 Kgs 13:21). They are prophetic “saints,” ancient miracle-​wielding Saint Brendans and Patricks. The prophetic legenda of Elijah and Elisha circulated in eighth-​century northern Israel and were eventually incorporated in the first, seventh-​century edition of the Deuteronomistic History. Ezekiel and other Zadokites represent a different theological tradition, but they knew and respected this history.

298   Stephen L. Cook As Walther Zimmerli (1979, 42–​43) demonstrated, Ezekiel’s connections with the pre-​classical prophetic legends are pronounced, especially in the book’s vision accounts. Recalling 1 Kgs 18:46, where Yhwh’s hand causes Elijah to outrun Ahab’s chariot, Ezek 1:3, 3:14, 22; 8:1; 33:22; 37:1; and 40:1 describe God’s hand falling upon the prophet and translating him across space and time. The interaction of Ezekiel and Yhwh’s spirit (Ezek 3:12, 14; 8:3; 11:24; 40:2; 43:5) resonates with little in the writing prophets, sounding instead like 1 Kgs 18:12; 2 Kgs 2:16. The consultation of elders with Ezekiel in his house (Ezek 8:1; 14:1; 20:1) recalls 2 Kgs 6:32. Ezekiel’s dramatic physical actions of prophecy (“beat your hands,” “stamp your feet,” Ezek 6:11 REB) echo 2 Kgs 13:18. Elijah and Elisha are not Levites, but the prophetic legends about them are preserved in the Deuteronomistic History, which favors the Levites and was almost certainly authored in part by Levites (see, e.g., Peterson 2014, 23, 27–​28; Geoghegan 2006, 138, 148–​149; von Rad 1953, 66–​69; Auld 1994, 167–​170). We might expect clerical perspectives of Levites to color some of Elijah’s and Elisha’s presentation. Beyond this, Sweeney has detailed Elijah’s and Elisha’s priestly associations, which suggest they sometimes played priestly roles. “They may have functioned in some priestly capacity in northern Israel, much as an Ephraimite figure such as Samuel could be recognized as a priest in Shiloh, or as oracle diviners, such as the Mesopotamian baru priests functioned in a priestly capacity” (Sweeney 2013, 48; among his several strong examples, Sweeney [2013, 37] points to Elijah’s altar preparations and rituals on Mount Carmel in 1 Kgs 18, the details of which resonate with known priestly interests and professional techniques). One purpose of Ezekiel’s presentation as an Elijah-​like holy man (an ʾîš-​ʾĕlōhîm) is to animate Zadokite sensibilities about a tangible polarity between the sacred and the ordinary. Rather than being primarily biographical in purpose, the prophetic legends instead aim to reveal the difference between the holy (the numinous, the Other) and the profane (the merely clean, the workaday). They invite readers into a spiritual imagination, where people bask in sanctity while also respecting its danger and volatility. The energy-​laden endowment of the ʾîš-​ʾĕlōhîm is unsafe and unpredictable. The widow of Zarephath, for example, knew that otherness posed unintended risks, that Elijah’s presence could condemn her son to death (1 Kgs 17:18). The story of Elisha and the bears (2 Kgs 2:23–​24) similarly reveals the danger of negative holiness, the danger posed by a self-​propelled holiness loosed from a prophetic holy man when it randomly contacts wild animal life. It is due to this non-​rational danger that the Zadokite priesthood was determined to distinguish the holy and the common (Lev 10:10 HS; Ezek 22:26). Though Elijah and Elisha were neither Aaronides nor Zadokites, Zadokite sensibilities resonated with the imagination around energy-​laden prophetic saints (just as this imagination earlier resonated with the authors of the Deuteronomistic History). HS and Ezekiel temper Israel’s contact with the numinous (see, e.g., Exod 34:35 HS) precisely because of safety concerns associated with the negative valence of holiness. Holiness seeps from the temple’s altar and its inner sanctum, which may be either negative or positive (see Cook 2018, 220). The NLT of Ezek 44:19 captures the verse’s emphasis on the

Ezekiel and the Priestly Traditions    299 menace of holiness (cf. Num 16:35 HS). The priests must store their vestments “so they do not endanger anyone by transmitting holiness to them” (also cf. the GNT). It is no accident that Ezekiel’s inaugural vision of the divine glory (kābôd; Ezek 1–​3) recalls Elijah’s highly physical theophany on Mount Horeb (1 Kgs 19:11–​13). A compelling synchronicity links the sensory-​rich experience of the holy man and Zadokite descriptions of Yhwh’s physical effects on earth, which overload the senses (Ezek 1:4, 24; 3:12–​13; 10:4–​5; 37:7–​8, 10; 43:2–​3). The primary difference between the Horeb experience of Elijah and the visions of God in Ezekiel revolves around the anthropomorphic quality of Yhwh in the latter’s experience—​God’s embodiment. Fiery divine chariots are well-​known in the Elijah–​Elisha legends. A fiery chariot appears at Elijah’s ascension (2 Kgs 2:11). A fiery chariot fleet protects Elisha and his young attendant in Dothan from the Aramean army (2 Kgs 6:17). On a later occasion, noisy preternatural chariots terrify an enemy camp (2 Kgs 7:6). Arguably, these fiery chariots of 2 Kings inform the semblance of a chariot in Ezekiel’s theophanies. Ezekiel’s chariot imagery of God’s kābôd (“glory”) exemplifies how the image-​rich scriptures of the Zadokites often use “semblances” (dĕmût) to render transcendence (Ezek 1:26; 8:2). Ezekiel’s priestly tradition joins with the prophetic legends in reifying preternatural reality through these “likenesses.” In his inaugural vision, Ezekiel sees what looks like a mobile throne, and “upon this semblance [dĕmût] of a throne, there was the semblance [dĕmût] of a human form” (1:26 NJPS). Other biblical priestly traditions eschew such image-​laden renderings of God and preternatural reality. Using the self-​same Hebrew word dĕmût, Isa 40–​66 insists that God’s semblance is fully incomparable, thus indescribable. Isaiah 40:18 inquires rhetorically, “To whom then can you liken God, What form [dĕmût] compare to Him?” (NJPS). No answer is possible; God cannot be compared to anything. The Holy One, at Isa 40:25, asks a similar question, “To whom then will you compare [dāmâ] me?” And again at 46:5 God asks, “To whom can you compare [dāmâ] me or declare me similar? To whom can you liken me, so that we seem comparable?” (NJPS). Such thinking is far from Zadokite. For their part, Jeremiah and the Levitical priesthood generally eschew the aesthetic and visionary, stressing divine alterity and hiddenness instead. Deuteronomy’s concept of the numinous entails extraordinary danger in apprehending the divine realm visually (see Deut 4:12, 15, 33; 5:4; cf. Gen 32:30 E; Exod 33:20). Levitical thinking emphasizes above all the inspired divine voice and word (Exod 20:22 E, Deut 4:12, 33, 36; 1 Kgs 19:12). Oral proclamation of God’s revelation was primary in their priesthood.

2.  Holiness as a Life Force A key feature of tangible holiness in the Elijah and Elisha traditions is its power to fortify, and even resurrect, life. Ezekiel and his Zadokite school, who saw holiness and life as closely connected, found profound inspiration here. In 1 Kgs 17:17–​24, Elijah brings a widow’s dead son back to life. Elisha performs a similar resurrection for the

300   Stephen L. Cook Shunammite’s dead son in 2 Kgs 4:32–​37. In 2 Kgs 13:20–​21 the bones of Elisha restore life to a corpse that is being buried. The latter case, especially, highlights the independence of the numinous power of the ʾîš-​ʾĕlōhîm from any conscious intentionality. The holy is volatile but non-​volitive! The major priestly traditions with which Ezekiel interacts all associate holiness with life. Ezekiel’s Zadokite view, however, resonates more powerfully with the spirit of the Elijah-​Elisha legends than the others do. Where in either Jeremiah or Isaiah do we find a vision like Ezek 37:1–​14? We search in vain in the writings of these other priest-​prophets for dead bones rising to life through the intervention of an ʾîš-​ʾĕlōhîm. The metaphor in Ezek 37 of resurrected bones (and I do not claim it is more than a metaphor) envisions life from God as mysteriously invasive. Its origins are hidden and cosmic (Ezek 37:3, 9; cf. 1:20), impossible to understand and manipulate (Ezek 37:8; 2 Kgs 4:31). To summon life-​breath, the ʾîš-​ʾĕlōhîm works in private, in a liminal zone (“the valley,” Ezek 37:1; “the upper chamber,” 1 Kgs 17:19, 23). Life does not flow automatically or easily, prompting summoning gestures and postures that make Elijah, Elisha, and Ezekiel act like ritual specialists—​priests (1 Kgs 17:21; 2 Kgs 4:34–​35). Ezekiel’s stress on God’s nature as the living font of life appears in his book long before Ezek 37. Note especially God’s repeated exhortation to Daughter Jerusalem to “Live!” in Ezek 16:6 (see NJPS). God’s very nature, for the Zadokites, makes God an advocate for life. Num 16:22 and 27:16 (both HS) understand God as “Source of the breath of all flesh” (NJPS), “who gives breath to all living things” (NIV). Ezek 18:4 reaffirms God’s passion about life. Ezek 18:23, 32; 33:11 then go on to reiterate that God desires life for all, even the wicked. The theme is foundational for the Zadokites. Life-​force and holiness cannot be separated in Zadokite theology. In Num 17:1–​ 11 (HS), the inner-​tabernacle infuses Aaron’s staff with fecundity. It comes alive, blossoming and bearing almonds (Num 17:8 [MT 17:23]). For HS, increasing exposure to holiness means increasing exposure to vitality. Correspondingly, in Ezek 36:37–​38 the “flock” of Israel restored to the land experience simultaneous sanctification and multiplication. Just as Jerusalem bustles with flocks for sacrifices at pilgrimage time, so the land’s ruined towns will soon team with a “consecrated flock” (ṣōʾn qādšîm, v. 38). The Zadokites believe sanctification and fecundity arise from emulating God through obeying covenant statutes and dwelling arrayed about God’s habitation, the temple. Lev 18:5 (HS) thus insists that one “finds life” (NABR) by keeping God’s statutes. Milgrom (2000, 1522) argues the passage clearly influenced Ezekiel (Ezek 20:11, 13, 21). The idiom at issue, found in both HS and Ezekiel, vests the Zadokite system of sanctification with the power, in itself, to grant life. The phrase bāhem (“by means of doing them”), with its beth instrumenti, indicates that life flows from the Zadokite disciplines themselves. Life is built into the HS covenant. Ezek 20:11 puts it this way: “I gave them My laws . . . , by the pursuit of which [bāhem] a man shall live” (NJPS; also v. 25). There is a difference here between the Zadokites and the Levites. Let us turn to the treatment of holiness and life in this alternative, Deuteronomic, clerical theology. In Deut 4:1; 5:30; 8:1; 11:8; 30:15, 19, bāhem is conspicuous by its absence. As Milgrom (2000, 1522–​1523) notes, “In D, God grants life as a reward for obeying his laws, but only

Ezekiel and the Priestly Traditions    301 H states that the laws themselves have the inherent power to grant life.” Here again, Deuteronomy and the Levites prioritize an interpersonal intimacy of God and Israel. It is as God’s children and God’s treasured possession that Israel choses holiness and life (Deut 14:1–​2). In outlining symbolic expressions of purity, Deut 14 envisions a people finding life by festal rejoicing before the Lord (12:7, 12, 18; 14:26; 16:11; 27:7) (see Cook 2015, 124). For Deuteronomy, this rejoicing “before the Lord” is not facilitated by God indwelling a central shrine as in Zadokite thought. Rather, in multiple ways God’s mysterious name becomes the “umbilical” connection between God, Israel, and God’s land that allows life to flow to, and between, all parties to the D covenant. To wield the divine name aright is to become the child of a God who is both intimate and dreadful, both present and absent. Finally, we turn to a third clerical perspective on holiness and life, the viewpoint of the Aaronide priesthood. The Aaronide theology of PT and Isa 40–​66 approaches holiness and life in a distinctive third manner, seen clearest in the treatment of the dead and departed. Unlike the Zadokites, the Aaronides do not insist that contact with the deceased means contact with what is lifeless and unholy. Here, dead relatives are not part of a strict dualism between life/​holiness and death/​impurity. Rather, in Third Isaiah and in the “Isaiah Apocalypse” there is an openness to communing with the living departed. Veneration of dead ancestors is tolerated in Deuteronomy (Deut 26:14). Third Isaiah goes further, incorporating the living-​dead in faithful communal life. It is illicit in Third Isaiah, of course, to align with the netherworld surreptitiously, worshiping the dead, not God, with libations and offerings (such as those of Isa 57:6–​7). (On the translation of Isa 57:6–​7, see Milgrom 2000, 1777–​1778 and the bibliography cited there, including the work of Lewis, Ackerman, and Spronk.) Calling on Abraham and Jacob for support and intervention, however, is a valid part of communal lamentation. In Isa 63:16 the community laments Israel’s alienation from the living-​dead souls of its founding ancestors. (On Abraham and Israel as actual living-​dead ancestors in Isa 63:16, see the bibliography cited in Cook 2013, 171–​172 n. 17, including the work of Stavrakopoulou, Tiemeyer, van der Toorn, and Goldziher.) Isa 26:19 goes further, making positive use of the term “rephaim” (NRSV: “those long dead”; GNT: “those who have long been dead”), which historically was language within the cult of the dead. As in 26:14, language of rephaim could conjure thoughts of heroes and kings of yore even in the Persian era, not merely thoughts of the undifferentiated deceased (see 2 Sam 21:15–​22; 1 Chr 20:6, 8) (for discussion, see Cook 2013, 170). Thus, Isa 26:19 speaks of the rising of rephaim in part to convey a hope of Israel’s ancient founders leading a stream of rebirths up from the netherworld (Cook 2013, 171). Isa 56:3–​5 represents Third Isaiah’s greatest departure from Zadokite and Levite sensibilities. It foresees the temple’s holy precincts fitted with mortuary memorials, stelae assuring the dead ongoing participation in communal worship. The yād wāšēm of verse 5 is designed to ensure an interconnection of the dead with the living (a šēm ʿôlām, an invocation name), a “remembrance” (cf. KTU 1.171 26–​28). In 2 Sam 18:18 Absalom solves the identical concern with just such a yād. The funerary stela, which Ezek 43:7–​9

302   Stephen L. Cook calls a peger, reunites a living-​dead shade with the worship community. As de Hulster explains, a peger was an upright stone that “functions as a petrified prayer” (De Hulster 2009, 168; see also Cook 2018, 190). In a move diametrically opposite to the thrust of Isa 56:3–​5, Ezek 43:7–​9 considers pagru fixtures and rites a radical threat to the covenant. They connect the realm of death with the temple realm of holiness and life, a forbidden nexus. The nether realm represents the infernal antipode to the temple’s precincts, the polar opposite of God’s holy heights! To be Zadokite was to shun any such contact of death and holiness (for discussion, see Cook 2018, 191).

3.  The Land as Central to the Covenant The Levites and Zadokites especially emphasize the role of the promised land in covenantal formation and moral transformation. For Deuteronomy and the Levites, the land does not possess an objective, tangible holiness. Nevertheless, it hosts God’s holy people and offers agricultural bounty, harvest blessings. Celebrating harvests at the central shrine at pilgrimage times, Israel finds life in festal rejoicing before the Lord. Ideally, Israel forms a symbiotic relationship with the environment, synching their life with its natural cycles, nurturing a humble spirit of interdependence (Deut 6:10–​15; 8) (see Cook 2015, 190). As we have seen, intimacy with God is paramount in the Levite perspective. It is not God’s bodily indwelling of a covenantal territory that is key to tightening the relationship, but the speaking, instructing divine voice that issues from within the gathered covenant assembly from the mouths of covenantal intermediaries (Exod 33:19; 34:6). Israel’s sanctification requires the special teaching and preaching vocation of the Levites. “They teach Jacob [God’s] ordinances, and Israel [God’s] law” (Deut 33:10). They transmit and apply the tôrâ given at Horeb. See, for example, Deut 17:9–​12, 18; 24:831:9–​13; 2 Kgs 17:27–​ 28; Jer 2:8; 8:8; 18:18; Mic 3:11; Hos 4:6; 8:12; Mal 2:6–​7. After possessing the land by expelling its previous defilers, the Israelites were to settle in it and establish a way of life based on responding to God’s love through obedience to the covenant (Deut 11:31). Covenantal commandments become Israel’s possession as a means for the people to realize their new abundant life (Deut 33:4). The Aaronide traditions of PT and Isa 40–​66 differ considerably from Levite traditions. As in Deuteronomy, God promises Canaan to the ancestors (e.g., Gen 17:8; 25:7–​10; 28:4; 35:12; 50:12–​15), but unlike in Deuteronomy (and unlike in HS, see Exod 6:7–​8), new life in the land does not connect to a bilateral, vassal covenant. Rather, God makes a unilateral grant of land to the ancestors, whom PT describes as sojourning in the land (gûr) in confident expectation of God’s eventual realizing of the promise (Gen 17:8; 28:4; 35:27; 37:1; Exod 6:4, all PT). God applies the primal blessing—​“be fruitful and multiply”—​to the ancestors and guarantees their seed/​descendants the land (Gen 28:3-​ 4; 35:11–​12), which will be theirs as a “perpetual holding” (ʾăḥuzzat ʿôlām; Gen 17:8; 48:4).

Ezekiel and the Priestly Traditions    303 Ezekiel and the Zadokites distance themselves from PT themes of confident trust in God’s permanent gift of the land. They stress instead a perverse mismatch between Israel’s actual character and the difficult requirements for thriving on God’s mountains. In Ezek 20 the “ancestors” of Israel’s history are idolatrous slaves in Egypt (20:4–​5), not sojourners in Canaan nursing divine assurances. Far from waiting on God’s promises, the “house of Jacob” (v. 5) has ensconced itself in Egyptian idolatry (20:7-​8).1 Neither HS nor Ezekiel, in contrast to PT, understands the alien (gēr) as a confident promise-​holder scoping out Canaan for future descendants.2 The only place of “sojourning” (māgôr) in Ezek 20 is that of the deportees, sojourning in foreign exile. God must extricate the sojourners from their exile and force them into the covenant (20:38). In contrast to PT’s bĕrît ʿôlām (Gen 17:7–​8), for the Zadokites behind HS and Ezekiel, as for Deuteronomy, the divine gift of the land is part of a bilateral vassal covenant (see Exod 6:7–​8 HS). God’s covenant people receive the land as a môrāšâ (“held plot,” Exod 6:8 HS; Ezek 11:15; 33:24; 36:2–​3). Exod 6:7–​8 (HS) shows the pattern. The covenant formula “my people–​your God” in verse 7 is followed by God’s land promise in verse 8. Ezek 20:40-​41 describes the covenant project underway as Israel settles into life as a living sacrifice on God’s holy highlands. For the Zadokites, as a môrāšâ the land serves as a material instrument of covenantal relationship. In this theology, the land is the terrain on which God’s involvement with Israel develops resulting in its increasing holiness.3 “Through you I will manifest my holiness” (Ezek 20:41 NABR).4 Only two works within the Hebrew Bible, HS and Ezekiel, use the term môrāšâ to refer to the land in this way. Deuteronomy and the DTR History prefer a related term, yĕruššâ (their use of the term represents eleven of its fourteen uses). PT, as we have seen, lacks the idea of a bilateral vassal covenant and makes the land an inalienable divine grant, an ʾăḥuzzat ʿôlām. This differs from the Zadokite view, in which the covenant neither precludes Israel’s exile from the land nor is guaranteed in perpetuity as Israel continues to hold the land. In Ezekiel’s Zadokite theology, Pikor (2018, 91) writes, “the land remains the aim of the covenant.” Israel must progress the covenant to enjoy “relationship,” “communion of life with Yahweh in the land.” HS is the source here. Exod 6:8 (HS) states that God grants Israel the môrāšâ as a land “[over] which I lifted my hand” (Fox, Schocken Bible).5 The bold anthropomorphism is characteristic of HS (also Num 14:30) and Ezekiel (20:15, 28, 42; 47:14), but contrasts with PT’s diction.6 The “lifted hand” formula designates a sign act for transferring land, emphasizing God’s control over the territory even when granting rights to live there. Ezek 20:5–​6 uses the idiom twice of God’s offer of land rights to Israel in Egypt, which falls on deaf ears. (Ezek 20:8 recounts God’s near destruction of idolatrous Israel when still in Egypt.) As in HS (see Lev 20:24), texts in Ezekiel attest that “settling rights” granted by God could be forfeited. In Ezek 11:15 those remaining in Judah wrongly interpret the exile of 597 as God’s transfer of the land to them: “They [the exiles] have gone far from the Lord; to us this land is given for a môrāšâ” (for discussion, see Pikor 2018, 96). Ezek 36:3, 5 admits that the land came into the possession (môrāšâ) of Edom and other foreign nations at the catastrophe of 586.

304   Stephen L. Cook The bold claims of the Judeans in 11:15 and the Edomites in 36:3, 5 could perhaps be correct Zadokite theology, but they represent incorrect or partial appraisals of the case at hand. Loss of their status as the land’s rightful settlers can be permanent or merely temporary. According to HS in Lev 26:3, 40, Israel’s expulsion from the land due to their defilement does not represent their final destiny. Ezekiel, in fact, specifically announces that that is the case here. Ezek 28:25 speaks of God’s aim to gather Israel’s scattered exiles back to “their own soil.” God is pleased neither with the claims to the land of non-​exiled Judeans nor with those of the Edomites. After their return to covenantal allegiance, God’s exiled people will re-​settle the land of the covenant.

4.  Holiness Infusing God’s Own Land Ezekiel 20 is clear about the role of the land in the history of God’s involvement with Israel. Upon God’s choosing of Israel, a specially selected (tûr) land emerges as crucial to the developing relationship (Ezek 20:6; cf. Lev 20:24 HS).7 Both in Egypt and in the wilderness, however, the people show themselves incompatible with the covenant dynamic of the land. Echoing Num 14:30–​31 (HS), Ezek 20:15–​16, 23–​24 emphasizes the people’s deliberate rejection (māʾas) of the covenant, forfeiting the land that nurtures it. The centrality of the land to the HS covenant is transparent in HS texts such as Lev 18:24–​30, where purity and morality, or lack thereof, determine if a people remains in the land or finds itself “regurgitated” (cf. Ezek 36:17). HS and Deuteronomy share some similarities in this theology, but also differ in key respects. In Deut 9:4–​5, God directly thrusts the wicked out of God’s land for reasons focused on morality and ethics. Evil thoughts, words, and deeds lead to negative behavior and divine judgment. In HS, the land itself reacts to its inhabitants’ infractions, which encompass both immorality and ritual defilement. An embedded matrix of holiness renders the land sensitive. In both HS and Ezekiel, God bonds with God’s sensitive land (“the land is mine,” Lev 25:23; “my land,” Ezek 36:5; 38:16). The land is God’s “treasured place” (Ezek 7:22), a land of “splendor” (Ezek 7:20; 20:6, 15). Since in HS theology whatever belongs to God is sacred, the land itself, implicitly, is a “holy land.” This differs from PT, which restricts the sacred sphere to the central temple. The Zadokites also differ from the Aaronides in advocating a theology of God’s indwelling and sanctification of Israel. In HS, unlike in either D or PT, God bodily indwells the land through the kābôd (for discussion, see Cook 2018, 220). HS offers a theology in which God’s bodily presence should nurture Israel’s conformity to God’s holiness. Num 35:34 (HS) reads, “You shall not defile the land in which you live, in which I also dwell; for I the Lord dwell among the Israelites.” A temple-​centered matrix of holiness transforms the land and Israel’s people. The idea is most directly expressed using the piel inflection of the root qādaš (see Exod 31:13; Lev 21:8, 22:32, all HS; Ezek 20:12). The reason that God’s shrine is amid Israel is to grow the people in holiness (Ezek 37:28). The process, however, is not automatic.

Ezekiel and the Priestly Traditions    305 Observing God’s rites and statutes is crucial to growth in sanctification (Exod 31:13, Lev 20:8, both HS). The Zadokites never push this theme of tangible sanctity in a mythological direction, as if land itself naturally embodied divinity. Milgrom is correct that the texts do not deify the land, yet he underemphasizes the land’s inherent ties to God.8 Even after God’s judgment and the exile, God’s care for the land continues (Ezek 36:9; Lev 26:42 HS: “I will remember the land”) and God defends “my land” in “hot jealousy” (Ezek 36:5). Nevertheless, the holiness of the land is but a reflection of Yhwh’s holiness, and it is palpable in the land only when Israel fulfills his commandments.9 If the people desecrate the land through ritual and moral infractions, God’s sensitive land cleanses itself through regurgitation (Lev 18:26 and 20:22, both HS).10 Fulsome life and divine blessing associated with the HS covenant come with possession of the land, but the land, simultaneously, is sensitive to desecration. The Zadokites’ theology of the land’s temple-​centered matrix of holiness differs significantly from other Israelite priesthoods’ understandings. Biblical texts associated with the Levites in E, D, Hosea, and the Asaph psalms lack a centralized and tiered conception of the land’s sanctity. In these texts all Israelites throughout the land stand before Yhwh. The land as a whole, not just a central sanctuary, is God’s “house,” God’s suzerain manner (Exod 15:17; Num 12:7; Hos 8:1; 9:15; Ps 78:54). At Exod 33:14–​16, Moses affirms that for Israel to be God’s covenant people requires intimacy with the Lord (cf. Gen 32:30 E; Deut 5:4). For Levites, this intimacy is less spatial/​hierarchical (as it is for the Zadokites) than verbal/​personal. It is not God’s bodily indwelling, but the speaking, instructing divine voice that is requisite (Exod 33:19; 34:6). The Levites foster Israel’s sanctification through teaching and proclamation. God’s numinous, formless presence is invoked through speaking God’s personal name. This differs from an ongoing tangible presence of God that seeps holiness to Israel. The Zadokites understand God’s kābôd (“glory”) as a nucleus of sanctification (Exod 29:43 HS), but the Aaronides of PT and Isa 40–​66 view it as amorphous and depict it in terms of radiance and numinous beauty. The “glory” is a theophanic emanation of royal splendor (see Isa 6:3; 24:23; 35:2; 60:1; 66:18–​19). Thus, the core texts of Third Isaiah feature a priestly vision of Zion in glory (Isa 60) employing images of an enthralling sunrise. Here, God’s kābôd (“glory,” 60:1) is not a located body, as in Zadokite thinking (Exod 29:45–​46 HS), but radiant brilliance as in PT (Exod 16:7, 10; 24:17). In Isaiah 60, as in PT (see Exod 28:2, 40), kābôd is associated with sublimity (tipʾārâ). As God bathes Zion in splendor (tipʾārâ, Isa 60:19), the city shines as God’s crown of beauty (tipʾārâ, Isa 62:3). Just as in Isa 60:3, in Isa 40:5 God’s revealing of the “glory [kābôd] of the Lord” is something all nations shall see (also see 66:18). In 60:3, God’s dawning glory over Zion draws in nations and kings. So too, in 40:5 “all humanity will see it” (CEB). The difference is that Isa 40:5 parallels PT’s reports of intermittent eruptions of kābôd on earth to decisively resolve crises (Exod 16:7, 10; Lev 9:23; Num 14:10; 20:6, all PT). The term bāśār (“flesh,” Isa 40:5) evokes the Aaronide theme of the frailty and transience of human life over against God’s towering majesty (see 40:6–​8). The Aaronides

306   Stephen L. Cook foresee all mortal flesh uniting (yaḥdāw) in dread before the divine glory’s emanation. “All flesh, as one, shall behold [it]” (NJPS). Again, this Aaronide concept of kābôd relates to God’s sheer transcendence, God’s awe-​inspiring “otherness,” numinousness.

5.  Ezekiel’s Neglect of the Ancestors Traditions In the ancestor traditions of PT, God singles out Israel’s earliest fathers and mothers for blessing, infusing them with fecundity (Gen 17:2, 6; 21:1; 35:11; 48:4; Exod 1:7, all PT) and exalting them as global beacons of hope (Gen 17:4–​5, 27; 35:11; 48:4, all PT). They move to Canaan (Gen 12:5 PT), sojourn there (Gen 16:3; 37:1 PT), and are buried there (Gen 25:7–​11; 35:29; 48:7; 49:29–​33; 50:12-​15, all PT). They receive the land of their sojourning as a permanent possession (Gen 17:8; 35:12; 48:4, all PT). Gen 28:4 (PT) refers to God’s guaranteed promise of the land as the “blessing of Abraham.” In PT, the ancestors are carriers of God’s permanent commitments and promises, and they are examples of a patient and peaceable lifestyle. Because they are examples, PT avoids narrating their quarrels. It describes neither the strife between Abraham’s and Lot’s herders (Gen 13:6, 11b–​12) nor the rivalry of Jacob and Esau (Gen 26:34–​35; 27:46–​ 28:2). Unlike in other traditions, in PT Abraham and Sarah live tāmîm, “wholehearted” (Gen 17:1, Fox, Schocken Bible). They bear God’s promise in anguish, but they ultimately find joy in the first fulfillments of God’s promises (Gen 17:1; 21:1). Genesis 17:1 describes Abraham as God’s chosen servant, called to be tāmîm: “wholehearted,” “content,” “non-​rival,” “peaceable” (see Strong 2005, 98). Eventually, a “multitude of nations” will recognize his stature (Gen 17:4, 5). Genesis 17:7–​8 speaks of a unilateral and non-​conditional bĕrît ʿôlām for Abraham, a perpetual grant of land, “the land of your sojournings, all the land of Canaan.” In Isa 59:21, later Aaronides pick up this language, referring to a divine bĕrît that is both ʿôlām (“perpetual”) and guaranteed to zeraʿ (seed/​descendants). Both Gen 17:4 and Isa 59:21 begin in the same way, “As for me [God], this is my covenant . . . ” For Isa 40–​66, God creates and elects Jacob/​ Jeshurun/​Israel (Isa 43:1; 44:2) and permanently establishes him as God’s servant (Isa 41:8; 44:1; 45:4). In contrast to PT, both Deuteronomy and Ezekiel downplay the traditions of God’s commitments to the ancestors. Deuteronomy, for its part, emphasizes each generation’s reciprocal relationship to the God of the Sinai covenant, not God’s unilateral promises to the founding generations. The commitment of each new generation standing before God is crucial, not reliance on God’s ancient guarantees. Thus, the “ancestors” to whom God swears covenant loyalty (ḥesed) in Deut 7:12 are the Israelites at Sinai. The Genesis ancestors are not in view; verses 13–​15 point to the vassal covenant blessings of Exod 23:25–​26 (E). God did make oaths to the Genesis ancestors (see Deut 1:8; 9:5; 11:9; 34:4),

Ezekiel and the Priestly Traditions    307 yes, but unlike in PT, the descendants’ enjoyment of the land is conditional (Deut 11:8–​ 9). If they forsake the Sinai covenant, the land’s fertility ceases and they “perish quickly off the good land that the Lord is giving” (Deut 11:17; see also Deut 6:17–​18). Like Deuteronomy, Ezekiel also recognizes Israel is Jacob’s progeny (Ezek 20:5; 39:25). Ezekiel 28:25 and 37:25 speak of God’s gift of the land to “my servant Jacob.” Since Lev 26:42 (HS) speaks of covenants with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, this is not surprising. Nevertheless, Ezekiel prefers to use the term ʾăbôt (“ancestors”) to refer to the descendants of the Genesis figures, not to the figures themselves. Thus, Pikor (2018, 82–​ 83) notes that in Ezek 20 God promises the land not to Abraham but to his descendants enslaved in Egypt (20:5–​6).11 Further, the PT promise of the eventual rise of sacral kingship in Israel (Gen 17:6, 16) is nowhere affirmed in Ezekiel or Deuteronomy. Zimmerli writes: “There is lacking in Ezekiel any positive and explicit mention of the patriarchal history.”12 A fascinating reference to God’s promise of the land to Abraham occurs in Ezek 33:23–​ 29. As in Ezek 11:14–​21, a forced deportation of a portion of the populace has placed the ownership of the vacated lands of the deportees in question (see Jer 40:10, 12). The survivors in Judah lay claim to the lands, based on God’s land promises to Abraham. Ezekiel blasts their reasoning, which was a type of a fortiori logic. “God backed up Father Abraham as he bore God’s land blessing. The blessing has an even better chance of flourishing in us, since we, his promised seed, have grown numerous.” The survivors’ logic would be less clear absent the fact that we have a parallel Aaronide version of it. The Isaian text at issue, like Isa 40–​66 as a whole, joins with PT in drawing invigoration from the divine promises of the Genesis era (see Isa 41:8; 48:19; 51:2; 54:1–​ 3). For Isaiah, the Genesis promises eclipse a sad failure at keeping the Sinai covenant. Pushing back behind the failure to earlier promises, God names Abraham “my friend” in Isa 41:8 and emphasizes the exiles’ identity as Abraham’s zeraʿ (“seed”). The initiative and commitment are on God’s side; God embraced Abraham as God’s friend.13 Towering above earth’s “farthest corners” (Isa 41:9), God elevated Abraham out of “unknown remoteness and what is uncanny and void” (Koch 1955, 219–​20). Such a creator God can certainly bring Abraham’s seed out of the chaos of Judah’s destruction by Babylonia. Isa 59:21, noted above, similarly furnishes hope in reaffirming to the zeraʿ (seed) an ancestral bĕrît that is ʿôlām (“perpetual”). Isa 51:1–​2 uses powerful rhetoric to convince readers of God’s rock-​solid commitment backing up restoration hopes. Isa 51:1 uses rock hewing metaphors to convey the permanent investment God has made in the ancestors and their seed (cf. the imagery of Isa 5:2). Then, 51:2 offers the Aaronide parallel to Ezek 33:24. The diction of Isa 51:2, “When [Abraham] was but one I called him, Then I. . . multiplied him” (NASB) resonates with Ezek 33:24. God’s blessing of Abraham and Sarah involved their multiplication (Isa 51:2; cf. Gen 17:2; 35:11; 47:27; Exod 1:7, all PT). This is a positive bit of evidence that the survivors of Ezek 33:24 could apply to themselves. Though beaten down, they could plausibly judge themselves a numerous seed of Abraham and Sarah still resident in the land and bearing their ancestors’ blessing.

308   Stephen L. Cook Ezekiel’s sources in HS know of God’s land-​grant to Abraham’s descendants (see Lev 26:42). The thinking around this grant, however, is different among Zadokite and Aaronide priests. Ezekiel understands the Aaronides’ unilateral and unconditional promises of the land as unhelpful in the contemporary situation. The survivors voicing the land-​claims of Ezek 33:24 did not need PT’s assurances. They needed convincing of their forfeiture of the covenant blessing of land through disqualifying actions, abominations both cultic (Ezek 33:25) and social (Ezek 33:26). As in Ezek 11:1–​13, the ancestral promises were subject to misuse, to an “instrumental treatment” (Pikor 2018, 80). Here in Ezek 33:24, they have lulled the survivors into a “false and presumptive confidence” (Fishbane 1985, 375).14 From the Zadokite priestly perspective, the survivors in Judah should remember that the land per se does not embody divinity and blessing. Apart from God, it holds no mythological power. Ezek 11:16 above all speaks directly to the thought that God automatically and exclusively blesses Judeans resident in the land (for discussion, see Blenkinsopp 2015, 8). Even the relatively large numbers of those left in Judah does not count for much, since their abominable behavior renders them subject to covenant curses that can decimate these numbers, making Israel “a desolation and a waste” (Ezek 33:28–​29; Lev 26:32–​33 HS). Here again Ezekiel’s book shows itself rooted in HS priestly traditions while differing from, and even clashing directly with, other priestly texts and theologies. Through a sampling of several key topical areas, I hope to have shown in this contribution that Ezekiel’s clear affinity is with preceding Zadokite laws and narratives. The book knows of many other traditions, of course, some of which it appropriates for its own ends. Despite such varied borrowings and reuses, Ezekiel certainly had significant and sometimes deep differences with the priestly traditions of Deuteronomy and PT.

Notes 1. As the phrase “house of Jacob” shows, Ezekiel’s authors were aware of the Pentateuch’s ancestor traditions (see Ezek 28:25; 37:25; 39:25). Prior to Ezekiel, HS presented Egyptian practices as a deeply rooted threat to life on God’s land (see Lev 18:3, “You shall not do as they do in the land of Egypt, where you lived”). On Israel being saved from Egyptian slavery “as if despite their will,” see Pikor (2018, 76), and cf. Greenberg (1983, 384) and Schwartz (2000, 59). 2. Even after Israel settles in the land, the people remain resident aliens there in God’s eyes. “The land is mine,” God says; “with me you are but aliens” (Lev 25:23 HS). Elsewhere in HS, gēr refers to a vulnerable potential victim. God’s people were themselves victims as aliens in Egypt, so once established Israel should look after its own resident foreigners (Lev 19:33–​34 HS; cf. Ezek 22:7, 29). Abraham’s self-​description as a gēr in Gen 23:8 (HS) is a humble admission to the sons of Heth of outsider status. 3. Pikor (2018, 87) correctly refers to the land’s “theophanic character,” which renders it the venue where Israel “should experience the communion of covenant.” 4. Pikor (2018, 91) nicely illuminates the Hebrew expression: “Israel is a space within which God will manifest his holiness in the sight of the nations, but it is also a tool through which this holiness will be revealed to the world. The new exodus will culminate in Yahweh’s sanctification of Israel after they re-​possess the land (cf. Ezek 37:28; also 36:38). Israel’s reconciliation

Ezekiel and the Priestly Traditions    309 with God will be more than a mere formal and legal act; it will influence and transform the whole existence of the nation, who will partake of Yahweh’s holiness.” 5. I concur with Strine (2013, 94) on Ezekiel’s sharing of key themes found in Ezek 6:8 and Num 14:30 (HS texts). See Cook (2018, 275). Strine is on weaker ground in insisting that this sign act is not any sort of oath. 6. Ezekiel’s idiom of land transfer (also see Ezek 33:24; 36:2, 5) is from HS (Exod 6:8). On the shared anthropomorphic and anthropopathic language and theology of HS and Ezekiel, see Cook (2018, 24–​25) and the literature cited there. 7. According to Lev 20:22–​26 (HS), the land is where Israel can differentiate itself as God’s unique people, holy to God. The land is God’s “mountain height” (Ezek 20:40; cf. 17:23, “mountainous highlands” CEB), where God can manifest God’s holiness through Israel (Ezek 20:41 NABR). Note that Israel’s entire land, not just Mount Zion, is considered the archetypal cosmic mountain, God’s highlands (see Cook 2018, 83). 8. Milgrom (2000, 1399) stresses that although the notion of holy land is implicit in H it is not explicit. This precludes any inference that holiness inheres in nature (a pagan idea). 9. Pikor (2018, 100) puts it this way: “The Promised Land can by no means substitute the one who gives it.” 10. Baruch Schwartz (2004, 252) explains, “As recognized by the midrash . . . the land is so sensitive to the criminal behavior of its inhabitants that when abominable acts are performed, ‘defiling’ the land, it ceases to yield its bounty and its population is forced to emigrate. Of course, as the previous verse confirms, God has imbued the land of Israel with its delicate constitution. This is unique to H.” 11. In contrast to Ezek 20, Isa 40–​66 directly identifies the exiles with the Genesis ancestors and speaks of both in the same breath. Isa 41:8–​9 even collapses God’s calling of Abraham out of Mesopotamia, God’s calling of Israel out of Egypt, and God’s calling of the exiles home to the land. 12. Zimmerli (1979, 42). 13. Baltzer (2001, 100) points to the same direction of commitment in Isa 42:1 (also see 43:4; 48:14). 14. As Greenberg (1997, 690) explains, in Ezekiel the land-​blessing is contingent. The claimants to the land among the survivors in Judah have, in fact, excluded themselves from Abraham’s offspring through their impurity and immorality. Pikor (2018, 103) speaks of the folly of reducing the promise to a “mathematical calculation.”

Bibliography Auld, A. Graeme. Kings Without Privilege: David and Moses in the Story of the Bible’s Kings. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994. Baltzer, Klaus. Deutero-​Isaiah: A Commentary on Isaiah 40–​55. Hermeneia. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2001. Blenkinsopp, Joseph. Abraham: The Story of a Life. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2015. Cook, Stephen L. “Chapter 17: The Law and the Prophets.” In The Oxford Handbook of Biblical Law, edited by Pamela Barmash. 275–​88, Oxford Handbooks. New York: Oxford University Press, 2019. Cook, Stephen L. Ezekiel 38–​48: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. Anchor Yale Bible. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2018. Cook, Stephen L. Reading Deuteronomy: A Literary and Theological Commentary. Reading the Old Testament. Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 2015.

310   Stephen L. Cook Cook, Stephen L. “Deliverance as Fertility and Resurrection: Echoes of Second Isaiah in Isaiah 26.” In Formation and Intertextuality in Isaiah 24-​27, edited by J. Todd Hibbard, and Hyun Chul Paul Kim, 165–​182. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2013. De Hulster, Izaak J. Iconographic Exegesis and Third Isaiah. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 2:36. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009. Fishbane, Michael A. Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel. New York: Oxford University Press, 1985. Geoghegan, Jeffrey C. The Time, Place, and Purpose of the Deuteronomistic History: The Evidence of “Until This Day.” Brown Judaic Studies 347. Providence, RI: Brown University Press, 2006. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 1–​20. Anchor Yale Bible 22. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1983. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 21–​37. Anchor Yale Bible 22A. New York: Doubleday, 1997. Horst, L. Leviticus xvii-​xxvi und Hezekiel. Ein Beitrag zur Pentateuchkritik. Colmar: Eugen Barth, 1881. Klostermann, A. “Beiträge zur Entstehungsgeschichte des Pentateuchs,” Zeitschrift für die gesamte lutherische Theologie und Kirche 38 (1877): 401–​445; reprinted as “Ezechiel und das Heiligkeitsgesetz.” In Der Pentateuch, edited by A. Klostermann, 368–​418. Leipzig: Deichert, 1893. Knohl, Israel. The Sanctuary of Silence: The Priestly Torah and the Holiness School. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1995. Koch, Klaus. “Zur Geschichte der Erwählungsvorstellung in Israel,” Zeitschrift fur die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 67 (1955): 205–​226. Leuchter, Mark. The Levites and the Boundaries of Israelite Identity. New York: Oxford University Press, 2017. Leuchter, Mark. The Polemics of Exile in Jeremiah 26–​45. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Lyons, Michael A. From Law to Prophecy: Ezekiel’s Use of the Holiness Code. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 507. New York: T&T Clark, 2009. Lyons, Michael A. “Transformation of Law: Ezekiel’s Use of the Holiness Code (Leviticus 17–​26).” In Transforming Visions: Transformations of Text, Tradition, and Theology in Ezekiel, edited by William A. Tooman and Michael A. Lyons, 1–​32. Pittsburgh Theological Monograph Series. Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2010. MacDonald, Nathan. Priestly Rule: Polemic and Biblical Interpretation in Ezekiel 44. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 476. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2015. Milgrom, Jacob. Leviticus 17–​22: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. Anchor Yale Bible 3A. New York: Doubleday, 2000. Peterson, Brian Neil. The Authors of the Deuteronomistic History: Locating a Tradition in Ancient Israel. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2014. Pikor, Wojciech. The Land of Israel in the Book of Ezekiel. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 667. New York: T&T Clark, 2018. Rad, Gerhard von. Studies in Deuteronomy. Translated by D. M. G. Stalker. London: SCM, 1953. Schwartz, Baruch J. “Leviticus.” In The Jewish Study Bible, edited by Adele Berlin et al., 203–​280. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004. Schwartz, Baruch J. “Ezekiel’s Dim View of Israel’s Restoration.” In The Book of Ezekiel: Theological and Anthropological Perspectives, edited by M. S. Odell and J. T. Strong, 43–​67. Society of Biblical Literature Symposium Series 9. Atlanta: SBL, 2000.

Ezekiel and the Priestly Traditions    311 Strine, Casey A. Sworn Enemies: The Divine Oath, the Book of Ezekiel, and the Polemics of Exile. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 436. Boston: de Gruyter, 2013. Strong, John T. “Israel as a Testimony to Yhwh’s Power: The Priests’ Definition of Israel.” In Constituting the Community: Studies on the Polity of Ancient Israel in Honor of S. Dean McBride Jr., edited by John T. Strong and Steven S. Tuell, 89–​106. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2005. Sweeney, Marvin A. “Prophets and Priests in the Deuteronomistic History: Elijah and Elisha.” In Israelite Prophecy and the Deuteronomistic History: Portrait, Reality, and the Formation of a History, edited by M. R. Jacobs and R. E. Person Jr., 35–​49. Ancient Israel and Its Literature 14. Atlanta: SBL, 2013. Sweeney, Marvin A. Ezekiel: Zadokite Priest and Visionary Prophet of the Exile. Occasional Papers of the Institute for Antiquity and Christianity 41. Claremont: Institute for Antiquity and Christianity, 2001. Wilson, Robert R. “Who Was the Deuteronomist? (Who Was Not the Deuteronomist?): Reflections on Pan-​Deuteronomism.” In Those Elusive Deuteronomists: The Phenomenon of Pan-​Deuteronomism, edited by Linda S. Schearing and Steven L. McKenzie, 67–​82. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 268. Sheffeld: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999. Wilson, Robert R. Prophecy and Society in Ancient Israel. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1980. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezekiel 1. Hermeneia. Translated by R. E. Clements and James D. Martin. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979.

Chapter 16

C omm u nicati ons of t h e B o ok of E z e ki e l From the Iron Wall to the Voice in the Air SOO J. KIM Sweeney

1.  Issues and Proposals Just as the book of Ezekiel is unique in the prophetic literature, the aspects of communication in the book of Ezekiel are equally peculiar. Even though the prophets of the Hebrew Bible are known as the mouthpieces for God in general (Nogalski, 32), out of more than forty times of the divine commissions throughout the book, readers count only three reports of the prophet complying with the divine command (11:25; 12:7; 24:18–​ 24). Whether not delivered or not reported, “the status of 90% of them is unknown” (Kim, 2017, 238). In other words, this book devotes much space to presenting the dialogues between the sender and messenger instead of showing the receiver’s reactions. Second, to find any ongoing discussion among characters seems impossible because most utterances in the book result in monologues or one-​way expressions. This deficiency or even disconnection in communication appears especially in the relationship between the sender (Yhwh) and the receiver (the exiles). Despite his keen interests in the golah community, Yhwh never appears to the public.1 Moreover, the author does not allow any direct speech of the exiles except for one brief question regarding the death of the prophet’s wife in 24:19. In all other cases, their sayings are mostly quoted by angry Yhwh in the mode of embedded speeches (Hildebrandt, 33–​39). Third, readers often find Yhwh’s orders to Ezekiel somewhat contradictory. He repeatedly warns his prophet not to neglect his mission; however, he often portrays Ezekiel as mute or confined in many critical moments. The delivery of the divine messages before the fall of Jerusalem (reported in Ezekiel 33:21) must be crucial due to the time-​ sensitivity if Yhwh/​the author of the book genuinely aimed to encourage the addressee’s

Communications of the Book of Ezekiel    313 penitence in time to avoid the disaster (Carvalho, 99–​100). Worse enough, Yhwh often predicts the futile outcomes of Ezekiel’s performances in his commission speeches. Such incomprehensible signs prompt readers to think twice regarding the purpose of the constructed divine speeches in this book. Unlike the reservation or confinement tendency in the previous three observations, my fourth observation is quite contrastive. When the book reaches the final vision report in ­chapters 40–​48, the report often disperses the long monologue-​like divine voices to the air by passing the supposed messenger Ezekiel. The divine citation formula (‫נְאֻ ֖ם‬ ‫ )אֲ ד ֹ ָנ֥י יְהוִ ֽה‬in 48:29 before the several last verses of the city structure description (48:30–​ 35) also increases the open-​ended impression of the whole book. These peculiar features of the communication are noteworthy since they are not a random result but reflections of the strategic devices for the overall themes of the book. The reluctant tendency of the text in revealing various plausible communications between the audience-​character2 and the prophet may lead us to consider the book’s overall interest in the unaddressed future generation. Being aware that we are reading the textual presentation, I would recall that we cannot draw the appropriate historical and theological pictures of the book of Ezekiel until we are seriously engaged with the basic features of the text, including linguistic, literary, or rhetorical devices. Communication is a critical topic for both areas. Scholars of the book of Ezekiel have still failed to engage in serious discussions of the mechanics of the communication between God, prophet, and audience-​characters, so a full picture of the topic remains lacking. Commentators have often adumbrated basic communication matters, including who speaks to whom in what manner or who narrates how in what contexts. More precisely speaking, interpreters have not been sensitive enough to distinguish the world at the discourse level from the historical world constructed by later readers. For example, Walther Zimmerli (68–​69) often treats the divine command scenes as the reliable experience of the historical exiles. Moreover, he just categorizes the three reported cases of the compliance (11:25; 12:7; 24:18f) as evidence of “a process of literary editing” without further discussion about their formal importance as the reports on the delivered speeches. The text’s primary mode of presentation is Yhwh’s dominant conversations with his prophet in a first-​person biographical format (Schöpflin). Scholars often ignore the importance of the specific forms and genres the author chose. This unawareness might have misled readers to be satisfied with their findings of what the book tells, without a further appreciation of how the book presents the contents. Insufficient understanding of essential aspects of communication would likely hinder the fuller appreciation of the overall intention of the book. There are several exceptions to note. Defining the genre of the book of Ezekiel as a self-​addressing prophetic drama, David Stacy insists that what the readers find from the text is the “instruction to perform some dramatic gestures” not “the account of the gestures actually being carried out” (Stacey, 172, 192), James Robson also differentiates the discourses of “Yahweh addressing Ezekiel” from “Ezekiel addressing his audience”

314    SOO J. KIM Sweeney (Robson, 27–​85). Meanwhile, Samuel Meier emphasizes the need to distinguish the narrator Ezekiel from the character Ezekiel even though they share the same name (Meier, 230–​31). Overall, their works provide sound foundations to examine both communications in the book and of the book. My earlier study, “Ezekiel, a Messenger? A Manager? Or a Moving Sanctuary?,” also deals with the blocked communication at the discourse level (Kim, 2017, 237–​50), and now the present study extends its scope up to the reading level to draw a fuller picture of communication. Several terms need to be defined for the clarification. “Literary audience” means the audience in the literary setting. Unlike its counterpart, the implied audience, this (supposed) addressee of the messenger is one of the characters as they physically appear in the narrative (Kim, 2019, 216–​21). Contemporary exiles of Ezekiel are the literary audience of the prophet when he delivers the divine commissions to them while Yhwh’s literary audience is always the messenger Ezekiel. However, the text often employs the virtual delivery when Yhwh uses the second person pronouns for his various referential audiences. Unlike the storyline characters who appear in the storyline, these virtual addressees are “referential characters” whose physical appearance are not present but only their names are mentioned by storyline characters or the narrator (S. Kim Sweeney, forthcoming). This rhetorical strategy compensates the lack of actual compliance scenes and makes us notice that the sender overrides the messenger even in the commission time. On the contrary, “implied audience” or “implied reader” refers to the author’s target audience whom the implied author wants to influence the most. In the case of the book of Ezekiel, they are the next generations of the exiles, whom the implied author—​ the exiled priest-​prophet in Babylonia—​implicitly distinguishes from the literary audience in the present narrative time. One of the themes of the book of Ezekiel is to show who would be Yhwh’s chosen party as “the house of Israel” in the (re)built Promised Land. The book does not shy away from demonstrating that Ezekiel’s contemporaries, both in Judah and Babylonia, are to be excluded as candidates. Instead, by setting up the implied reader as the future generation of exiles, the book envisions that they are the beneficiaries of Yhwh’s grand restoration plan. Aspects of the book’s communication serve well as bases for this thesis. With this agenda, the book shows the radical shift from the blocked communication, which utilizes the expression of the “the iron wall” (Ezek 4:3) in this chapter, to the unlimited diffusion, as I expressed “the voice in the air.” In other words, communications in the book of Ezekiel and of the book of Ezekiel show two different aspects and purposes. To begin with communications in the book, the book does not confirm that the literary audience received all of Yhwh’s numerous warnings and exhortations to call for repentance in his divine commissions. Both the large portion of the divine commission and the lack of response from the literary audience are conspicuous and overwhelming. This is the discussion at the discourse level. Regarding the latter, the final form of the book of Ezekiel extends its influences beyond the discourse level and actively reaches out to the implied readers. This is the discussion at the reading level. In sum, the book of Ezekiel first leads the implied audience/​readers to keep a distance from the literary audience, and then it invites them to

Communications of the Book of Ezekiel    315 transform themselves through the reading experiences to join the projected restored world in the land and eventually to become a messenger.

2.  Communication at the Discourse Level Discussion at the discourse level means that we interpreters adjust our scope to what the first-​person narrator-​character Ezekiel perceives by becoming a virtual narratee. The discussion topics include sender, messenger, receiver, and the way they carry the messages. “An iron griddle” between Yhwh and Jerusalem in 4:3 well describes the communication setting between the sender and receiver. This section will analyze the three reported compliances and examine the sender and receiver’s characterizations.

2.1  Embodiment vs. Representation; Re-​presenting vs. Reporting Let me clarify several terms for cogent discussion. In dealing with the divine commands and human agent’s compliances, we recognize two distinct categories: a type of the divine manifestation upon the agent and a manner of the text presentation. To begin with the divine manifestation, biblical discourses occasionally use two types, “embodiment” and “representation.” “Representation” is different from “re-​presentation,” which usually occurs in the human agent’s compliance scene when the text allows the narrative space to reproduce the divine command. If the divine command had appeared earlier in the text as well, the message would be repetitive to the readers but the first experience to the literary audience. If the text reserves the message until the compliance scene, readers and the literary audience are on the same page to learn the divine message for the first time. Meanwhile, “representing” without the hyphen refers to the activity of the delegated human agent (Ezekiel in our discussion) whom Yhwh appoints as his mouthpiece or commissioner. The theatrical language such as “on-​stage” (a surface level of the discourse), “behind the stage” (the world of the implied author, which the reader can conjecture through the text), or “spotlight” (focalization as the narrator’s concentrated area) is useful to account for prophetic compliance (Ubersfeld). Using a theatrical concept, the reader sets up the stage in her mental space. If an embodiment occurs, metaphorically speaking, we perceive only one human character at the stage. Since the deity already embodied himself to the human agent, the two entities share one body: the human agent in this case. Meanwhile, if the author/​director chooses to use the representation type, we unmistakably recognize the independent presence of the sender, Yhwh, behind the stage and the prophet at the stage as God’s representative.

316    SOO J. KIM Sweeney Practically speaking, Bible readers can notice these two types by observing how the text unpacks the divine commission and the messenger’s compliance. If the text picks the command scenes only, the discussion of embodiment becomes meaningless because an embodiment is impossible during the commission time. Both God and the prophet are distinctive as two independent entities in the conversation. This leads us to conclude that this commission-​dominant prophetic book hardly takes an embodiment type at the discourse level. Despite some illustrations of the embodiment moments, such as Ezekiel’s swallowing the scroll or a trance-​like scene, in most cases, the book does not show the prophet standing up to speak or perform in the realistic presentation. Regarding the second discussion topic, the manner of the text presentation, the author can choose either re-​presenting (showing) or reporting (telling) on each type. With the presupposition of the biblical text’s implied claim that the divine commands are a pre-​condition of any human agent’s performance under the divine name, I prefer the terms “re-​presenting” and “reporting” to “showing” or “telling.” The former pair more directly reflects the rhetorical situation of the prophetic literature. Moreover, there are at least three choices in distributing the messages in the textual arrangement: 1) the compliance-​only; 2) the commission-​only; 3) the combination of both (S. Kim Sweeney, 2021, 58–​59). The first case can be found in Nahum and Obadiah, which imply that the divine commission or the ceremonial embodiment ritual had happened behind the stage. The book of Ezekiel takes the second case with the re-​presenting manner in most divine messages. The effect of the divine embodiment would be maximized when the text (re)presents the compliance scenes only because the human agent will appear at the discourse level as the divine embodied body. Far from this condition, Ezekiel’s literary audience hardly experiences their deity in any mode.

2.2  Three Reported Compliances If the book of Ezekiel presents the sender-​messenger dialogues in much more detail than the messenger-​receiver encounters, it is worth examining these few latter cases to see if any common factors exist among them.

2.2.1  Verbal Performance of the Vision: 11:25 Ezekiel 11:25 is the narrator’s first report that the prophet delivered his extraordinary experience in a vision to his fellow captives. However, due to its brevity, it functions more like a closing statement of his Jerusalem trip in the vision (chs. 8–​11). The supposed content might include the abominable practices in the temple, divine execution upon the temple and Jerusalem, and finally, Yhwh’s departure from the temple. The passage reveals some interesting features of communication in the book of Ezekiel. First, the report slightly modifies the addressee from “the elders of Judah” (8:1), whose portrayal resembles that of the typical divine inquirers (Sweeney, 2013, 54–​55), to the unspecific captives (11:25). Regarding the identification of the two groups, the text leaves both possibilities: either the narrator changed the title of one interlocutor group

Communications of the Book of Ezekiel    317 or explicitly shows that the prophet extended the receiver to the whole golah community. The first option underscores the author’s intention to cut off any nostalgic connection with Judah from the current exilic community. The vision, especially 11:14–​21, shows Yhwh’s firm decision concerning the abandonment of Jerusalem and the plan for the salvation of the golah community. On the other hand, if the prophet performed before the larger group, it implies Ezekiel’s presence in public as God’s messenger, although this short sentence hinders any further speculation. Second, it is ironic to recall that Ezekiel 8–​11 does not mention Yhwh’s order to deliver this vision. This one-​sentence report at the end of the vision is nevertheless still significant in confirming that the exiles are informed of the fundamental reasons for the fall of Jerusalem and Yhwh’s moving his throne from there. In terms of the literary context, this report cleverly pressures readers to agree that the golah community deserves to get Yhwh’s resumed hostile attitude in c­ hapter 12 since, after this report (11:25), they lost an excuse to assert that they were ignorant of the divine will.

2.2.2  Nonverbal Performance as Sign-​Acts: 12:7 One of the advantages of a sign-​act is that the performer can play multiple roles. The messenger Ezekiel, who re-​presents the divine commands, personifies both the tragic Judean king as well as the Jerusalemites (Stacey, 193). Instead of reporting the audience’s reaction immediately, the author reserves it until the conversation with Yhwh is reported in the following morning. In the quotation (12:9), Yhwh continues to use the term “rebellious” (12:1, 3, 9) for the exiles to preclude any positive expectation on the part of the reader. In contrast, the narrator-​character Ezekiel avoids this harsh adjective in defining their characterization, not only here in chapter12 but also throughout the book. When we consider the immediate addressee, i.e., the golah community already in Babylonia, we conclude that the overall aim of chapter 12 is to stop the addressee from complaining of their exile status as abandoned by God. By doing so, the text claims that the exiles, not the land-​remaining people, are indeed the chosen people.

2.2.3  Combination of Both Verbal and Nonverbal Performance: 24:18–​24 The third compliance scene concerns the symbolic meaning of the death of Ezekiel’s wife (24:18–​24). This scene depicts a relatively substantial communication between the messenger and the audience, although the text still maintains the format of a one-​way mode of conversation. Here, the addressee is the same golah community, which is “yearning” for the Jerusalem temple as the delight of their eyes (24:21). The messenger proclaims the destiny of Jerusalem (and the sanctuary) and the remaining children of the exiles in the land. Despite the lack of a chronological notice in the divine command scene (24:15–​ 26), its literary proximity to the burning-​pot parable (24:1–​14) leads readers to infer its chronological connection with the date of the previous unit, the very day of the siege of Jerusalem by the Babylonian king (24:2). The compliance is unpacked in three distinct stages. The first one takes the form of a summary report (v. 18a) of Yhwh’s command (vv. 16–​17) as the prediction of the death

318    SOO J. KIM Sweeney (Zimmerli, 504). The content is not explicit, whether it includes the symbolic meaning of death, but it is natural to deduce that the prophet foretold his wife’s impending death to the people. The second contains a nonverbal sign-​acts report concerning Ezekiel’s unusual custom for the dead (v. 18c). In between the two accounts of the prophet’s compliance (v. 18a and v. 18c), the text recounts the death through the first-​person narrator, Ezekiel, in v.18b. The third compliance takes a verbal communication mode as Ezekiel answers the exiles’ question regarding his peculiar custom (vv. 20–​24). This is the only scene in the book of Ezekiel to reveal more information in the compliance scene than the divine command (24:16–​17), in which Yhwh just mentions the prediction of death and how to mourn. Readers may assume that Ezekiel’s wife, the delight of the prophet in verses 16–​17, is analogous to Yhwh’s wife, Jerusalem (cf. ch.16). However, according to the re-​ presenting of the verbal performance (v. 21), Yhwh’s target in this unit is his sanctuary, not Jerusalem per se (Kim, 2014, 287–​207). Moreover, as we read verse 21, “‎ַ‫ְמח‬ ‫ת־מ ְקדָּ ׁ ִשי ֙ ְּגא֣ו ֹן עֻ ז ְֶּ֔כם מַ ְחמַ ֥ד עֵ ֽינֵיכֶ ֖ם וּמַ ְחמַ ֣ל נַפְ ׁ ְשכֶ ֑ם‬ ִ ֶ‫[( ּ ֵל֤ל א‬I]‌am about to profane my sanctuary, the pride of your [2.m.p.] power, the desire of your [2.m.p.] eyes, and the yearning of your [2.m.p.] soul),” the sanctuary is depicted as the pride and delight of the house of Israel/​the audience, rather than Yhwh’s joy. This information reaffirms several important theological notions of the book of Ezekiel. Yhwh can abandon his temple if necessary; he can depart his throne as the reader might be shocked already from c­ hapters 1–​3. Moreover, the text does not apply the destruction language to the temple but keeps using the language of defile/​profane (‫​–)חלל‬what was fallen is the city as we see in 33:21. However, profanity is serious enough to be equal to death, as we see in the analogy between Ezekiel’s wife and the sanctuary. Finally, Ezekiel is a sign of the ongoing tragedies so that people would know Yhwh is their God. When the speech reaches the last segment of the divine speech (vv. 25–​27), it changes the addressee to the prophet (2.m.s.) and brings back the verb “to take” (‫)לקח‬, with the ambiguously abstract reference between the city and the sanctuary. In sum, we come to know that those three reports of the prophet’s compliance have a common purpose of undercutting the exiles’ nostalgia toward Jerusalem. In addition, all three scenes depict the tragic end of the Jerusalemites, suggesting the exiles’ privileged status. If we consider the brief narrative report of the fall of Jerusalem (33:21) together with these scenes, the book of Ezekiel asserts that the fall of Jerusalem and the end of life in the land are delivered to Ezekiel’s literary audience (audience-​character) at four points: 1) the accusation and execution of Jerusalem and the temple in the Jerusalem temple vision (8:1–​11:25); 2) the illustration of going into exile and the destiny of the Judean king in the sign-​acts performance (12:1–​16); 3) the defilement of the sanctuary (and possibly destruction of Jerusalem) and the tragic end of the future generation in Jerusalem, with the death of the prophet’s wife and the inappropriate ritual (24:15–​27); and 4) the fugitive’s report of the fall of the city (33:21).

Communications of the Book of Ezekiel    319

2.3 Sender: Yhwh in His Freedom and Confinement This section will examine two contrastive strategies of the book regarding Yhwh’s communication: his free movement among the virtual addressees (referential characters) in the speech and his self-​confinement in the narrative world. One of the peculiar aspects of Yhwh’s speeches in the book appears in his free change of the addressee even within one oracle without indication. Even if we consider that divine speeches are always embedded by someone else (Nogalski, 26; Meir, 208–​ 09), the vagueness in identifying the narrative situations of Yhwh’s words seems unavoidable due to this free movement. The divine command of the sign-​acts prophecy regarding Jerusalem/​Jerusalemites in ­chapter 5 would be a good example. Since there is no explicit marker at the beginning of this command, readers need to assume that the word-​event formula (‎‫ ) ַוי ְִה ֥י ְדבַ ר־יְה ָו ֖ה אֵ ַ ֥לי‬in 3:16 continues to govern here (Nogalski, 19–​20; Sweeney, 35). Yhwh commands Ezekiel to do the sign-​acts performance using his hairs, supposedly before the exiles (5:1–​4). Then, without any transitional statement or imperatives, v.5a brings the first citation formula, “Thus says Yhwh God,” followed by his direct speech to the unspecific addressee (vv. 5b–​6). Yhwh’s accusation against Jerusalem seems to take a lawsuit form to make the defendant stand before the judge. In other words, Yhwh, as a first-​person speaker, indicts Jerusalem by using the third-​person singular pronoun “she/​her.” Nevertheless, in this scene (v. 7b), he quickly changes the addressee again with the citation formula (v. 7a) to Jerusalem’s residents (2.m.p.). Moreover, still in the instruction to Ezekiel (vv. 8–​9), the text illustrates Yhwh facing the city to proclaim the judgment sentences, now calling Jerusalem as a direct listener “you” (2.f.s.). One may conjecture that this free movement among the various audiences seems to reflect the oral dimension or stage of the prophet’s performances. However, Yhwh’s vivid oral performance with the virtual audiences at the commission level suggests the opposite direction that, indeed, the presented Yhwh’s command speeches may reflect the author’s preparation for the later performers or even virtual performances for readers. In other words, there is a possibility that the text might be written first as a potential script for the later performance (Davis, 30–​39; Cook, 3–​7. In this communication, such flexibility also gives readers the freedom to switch their identification from one addressee to another. In contrast to the first characteristic, Yhwh’s free movement, the second peculiarity comes from the book’s strategy to keep Yhwh in Ezekiel’s mental space (Fröchtling, 174). This self-​restriction can explain that the divine absence in the eyes of the exiles is not the divine death but the divine hiddenness. In terms of communication, this self-​ confinement accentuates Ezekiel as the only contact person and witness in the exilic time. While Lena-​Sofia Tiemeyer pays attention to Ezekiel’s loss of freedom and his dependency on God (Tiemeyer, 190), I suggest seeing this phenomenon from a different angle, i.e., Yhwh voluntarily decides to depend on his prophet in the communication process.

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2.4  Receiver: You and Beyond “You” 2.4.1  The Exiles, the House of Israel, and the Rebellious House The book of Ezekiel shows a variety of addressees in the divine speeches, from virtual to actual, from nature to human beings, and from Yhwh’s people to foreigners (Kim, 2017, 240 n.4). To begin with, “the exiles (‎‫ ”)הַ ּגו ֹ ֖ ָלה‬occurs five times (1:1; 3:11, 15; 11:24, 25) in a neutral tone: four times by the first-​person narrator and one time by Yhwh in his speech when he identifies Ezekiel’s literary audience as “the exiles, your people” (3:11). Unlike the socially designated term, “the exiles,” “the house of Israel (‫”)כ ֥ית ִי ְׂש ָראֵ ֖ל‬ ֵ ּ has more variety in Yhwh’s speeches. This popular term is used more than 50% (more than 65 times out of 119 times in the Hebrew Bible) in the book of Ezekiel. Stephen Cook argues that the phrase, “House of Israel,” is a typical characteristic of the Holiness School style (Cook, 15–​18, 88). First, it refers to the golah community as an addressee. In this category, Ezekiel, the messenger, receives the command to deliver the messages to his contemporary golah community. Second, it often refers to the people in Judah as a virtual addressee. Third, when the phrase appears with the word “Judah,” sometimes it seems to refer to northern Israel (Crouch, 2019; 2020). “The whole house of Israel (‎‫ל־ב ֥ית ִי ְׂש ָראֵ ֖ל‬ ֵ ּ ָ‫ ”)כ‬also follows these same general designations as the term “the house of Israel.” In 3:7, it refers to the golah community, which has a hard forehead and a stubborn heart. In 5:4, the term designates to the people in Judah to whom the fiery disaster would fall. This term also appears with modifiers: “the whole house of Israel who is in the land” (12:10) and “the whole house of Israel for Joseph” (37:16). Contrastingly, it is also used for the beneficiary of Yhwh’s restoration (20:40; 36:10; 37:11; 39:25; 45:6). Thus, the modifier (‫ )כָ ל‬should be understood as a rhetorical device to emphasize totality. Meanwhile, the term “house” is often combined with a modifier, “rebellious (‫)םרד‬,” resulting in a specific term, “the rebellious house (‫)בית־הַ ּ ֶמ ִ֖רי‬. ֵ ּ ” Yhwh’s labeling is consistent over the temporal and spatial classifications of the audience. This term appears fourteen times in the Hebrew Bible, only in the book of Ezekiel, mostly as a cluster in ­chapters 2–​3 and 12 (2:5, 6 8; 3:9, 26, 27; 12:2*2, 3, 9, 25; 17:12; 24:3; 44:6). In ­chapters 2–​ 3, the term appears in Yhwh’s orientation for Ezekiel’s task, highlighting the literary audience’s hardened heart. In ­chapter 12, Yhwh calls the golah community “the rebellious house” both before (12:2–​3) and after (12:9, 25) Ezekiel’s sign-​acts performance, probably to undercut any positive expectation. The other two cases, 17:12 and 24:3, are also related to Jerusalem’s fall and its destiny. This rhetorical term in the two cases is used to persuade the literary audience to cut off their unceasing nostalgia toward Jerusalem. The last example in 44:6 also strongly urges the cessation of the abominations in the past. Sometimes, it is hard to identify whom Yhwh indicates at the syntactic level; however, the semantic contexts tell us that they are the golah community. Despite some ambiguity, we can say that Yhwh uses this term as an epithet for the literary audience of Ezekiel, i.e., the golah community.

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2.4.2  Toward the Ultimate Selection Dalit Rom-​Shiloni interprets Yhwh’s different attitudes toward the two parties—​a condemning mode to the people remaining in Judah and a generous mode to the exiles—​as the consequence of the twofold exile process from the partial to the full exile (Rom-​Shiloni, 9, 41). With this analysis, I propose going one step further to see the additional division within this golah community in Babylonia. First of all, the spatial division in Yhwh’s speeches left no hope for the people in the land of Israel. Regardless of the generation, they would be killed by the sword, famine, or pestilence (5:12; 6:11–​14; 7:15; 11:11). There is no way to escape this great judgment unless one can cross the border of the land. Yhwh’s mercy would work for a handful of the fugitives if they could reach a foreign territory (6:8–​9; 12:16; 14:22). This geographical chasm attempts to positively influence the golah community as God’s caring group, although this strategy seems not to work well. According to Yhwh’s quotations of their sayings, the first generation of the golah community neither accepts Yhwh’s harsh criticism nor has hope to return. Instead, they identify themselves with the unfairly judged generation (cf. ch. 18) or a dying dry bone like a community without hope (37:1–​14). Nonetheless, a more serious problem lies in the fact that the book of Ezekiel does not seem to stimulate the literary audience’s motivation to change themselves to fit in the category of Yhwh’s ultimate selection in his restoration plan. Instead, with the spatial and temporal divisions, the book implicitly suggests that the golah community is a liminal generation whose effort to improve their attitude would end up fruitless. Yhwh’s standard requires them a radical transformation to prevent any recidivistic rebellion, which is only possible with a new spirit and new heart whenever Yhwh will grant it in his time (Lapsley, 106–​5, 157). Moreover, the book employs chronological remarks on most divine command speeches and creates this generational gap so that all adult exiles are to perish as the old persona while their children will be reborn as the new human race (Strong, 2015; Kim Swenney, forthcoming). It is true that the book of Ezekiel does not explicitly distinguish between earlier and later generations within the exilic community. Nonetheless, historical presentations of the biblical accounts regarding the exilic period (ca. 60 years from 597 bce king Jehoiachin’s captivity to 539 BCE King Cyrus’ decree) suggest that the contemporary of Ezekiel must be hardly identical with the returnees in the book of Ezra-​Nehemiah. As the iron wall symbolizes, Yhwh/​the author blocks communication with all contemporaries of Ezekiel. If any message is delivered to the literary audience, the aim is to let them know two things: there was a prophet among them; Yhwh is their God. Here, we see the book might aim to bypass the generation of the literary audience, no matter where they dwell. Overall, unfortunately, neither time, geography nor sincerity, were the real issues. Then, the next question is, what motivated this agenda, and how did the author strategically unpack that agenda in the text?

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2.5  Focalization The concentration of the book of Ezekiel on Yhwh’s speeches can be understood as “focalization,” which Gérard Genette defines as a restriction or selection regarding the information in the story world (Genette, 189). Engaging with this notion makes us more aware that the text shows only the inner world of the communication between the deity and the human agent. Thanks to this concentration, the author was able to let an omniscient character, Yhwh, transport all information—​surpassing ordinary human beings’ spatial, temporal, and psychological limitations—​to another character (Ezekiel) through visions and oracles. As we confirmed, Yhwh’s free switch of his (virtual) addressees without notice also increases the sense of realism. By presenting the sender’s commission speeches and spectator’s vision experiences, the text creates a maximum effect of reality and even (mis)leads readers to feel that all the commands are already delivered, executed, or fulfilled. However, here comes the restrictive aspect of the book. Readers would soon realize that the vivid reality was indeed enclosed in the two characters’ world, not even reaching to the “real” storyline, because Yhwh in the book of Ezekiel restricted himself to private communication. As the author of Ezekiel chose, the first-​person narrative form is very convenient to practice this kind of focalization because this first-​person narrator can appreciate the maximized freedom in managing the narrative topics, speed, and manners (Jahn, 96; Margolin 52, 54). Now, going one step further, we ask what motivation would exist behind this strategy. I propose two concepts, indeterminacy and liminality, as the consequences of the violation of temporality. Promises, hopes, and dreams to return are all shattered when people encounter the violating power of time (Torrey, 112–​13). This cruelty is one of the common aspects that the readers of prophetic literature would experience. However, it becomes more intense when the implied author of the book of Ezekiel would encounter this reality in the early exilic period and would make him (reluctantly) set up a strategy to bypass his literary audience. This is sorrow of the exilic perspective. Pushing all the fulfillment to the far future would grant the author freedom from the pressure to show the divine oracles’ fulfillment in due time. Including the specific date entries in each unit is a smart strategy to provide the historical weight to the text as well as the justification for the generational transition. Accordingly, both the characters of the book and readers naturally fall into the condition of waiting forever with the indeterminate timeline, i.e., living in the liminal world in between hope and no-​hope. By making this first exilic generation always being disqualified by their deity, the book gives them an ironic survival tip in the unending catastrophe: live in a half-​awake state; do not become too eager to make your dream come true, but do not completely give up, either (Mroczek, 1–​35). For the implied reader, separation from the harshly rebuked literary audience is the only way to become beneficiaries of Yhwh’s restoration plan. The book of Ezekiel’s mission might be to hold people in a heterotopia that Ezekiel and his God made together in the liminal time and space for the communication.

Communications of the Book of Ezekiel    323

3.  Communication at the Reading Level 3.1  Voice in the Air: a Clue From the Last Vision Now, we extend our horizon to the reading level to discuss the communication of the book of Ezekiel. Reading the final temple vision is a good start. Ezekiel 40–​48 is famous for the future temple tour in the newly rearranged Promised Land. The tour-​ guide Bronze Man clearly explains that Ezekiel’s task is to internalize and deliver what he would see in the vision (40:4). In 43:10, now Yhwh explicitly commands Ezekiel to tell the law of the temple to the house of Israel for the future (Kim, 2019, 221–​26). Interestingly, in both cases, the speakers use the term “house of Israel” for the targeted audience, but now as a new human race with a new heart and new spirit. This sudden change makes readers assume that either some radical transformation must have happened to the house of Israel in the background of the narrative before the storyline reaches up to this point, or this vision would project its fulfillment time in the distant future. The text does not allow any conjecture to estimate the length of that time, nor does it suggest any concrete historical evidence that the historical Ezekiel lived from the promised time to its fulfillment time. All these verses tell us is that the communication in Ezekiel 40–​48 depicts that the speaker’s voice is now soaring over the iron wall, dispersing into the air to look forward to future readers unknown to the author during the time of the text’s composition.

3.2  Literary Audience: the Bypassed Messenger As shown above (2.4), the consistently negative portraits of the literary audience, from the orientation, commission, to the compliance, would likely affect the reader’s choice of identification in their reading. The directed readers, who follow the implied author’s direction, would bypass the already bypassed generation. As we see in Russian formalists’ or Bertolt Brecht’s rhetorical strategy for the “estrangement effect” (White, 90–​99), readers of this estrangement effect setting would distance themselves from the main characters’ paths. In Wolfgang Iser’s term, this signal works for readers to fill in the gaps or indeterminacies when they make Gestalt or perceptions (Iser, 111–​29, 135–​36). Because the meaningful communication between the text and reader depends on the reader’s ability and willingness to bridge the gaps (Iser, 163–​69), the reader’s adjustment or even the rectification process in searching for the ideal exemplar in the text is necessary. Thus, into this gap steps Ben Adam as the answer.

324    SOO J. KIM Sweeney

3.3  Ben Adam: the Appointed Messenger Now, let us shift our focus back to the first-​person narrative in which the narrator and the main character are identical. This form can create many roles through one persona. If the character Ezekiel could experience the divine encounter and serves as an eyewitness, scribe, and messenger, the narrator Ezekiel recounts those through the written form. First, the character Ezekiel is created as an exemplar of the reader. I pay attention to the fact that Yhwh always calls the prophet a Ben Adam (a transliteration of ‎‫בן־אדם‬, usually translated as “a human being” or “a mortal”). This generic name Ben Adam, instead of the proper name Ezekiel, eases the distance between the character and the reader so that any reader can put on the prophet’s hat without much awareness, similar to the portrayal of the “beloved disciple” in the Gospel of John (Beck, 10–​12). Second, as the call narrative emphasizes Ezekiel’s role (cf. 2:3, 4; 3:5, 6, 11, 27), he is appointed as a messenger. Despite his passive role, this first-​person report grants him a crucial role as the only witness and authoritative person for the later generation (Liss, 122–​43). Third, his role in the final vision (chs. 40–​48) is not limited to being the messenger but also the spectator and scribe, which suggests the “persona of Ezekiel” is the book itself mediating God’s voice in the written document (Meir, 241). In his analysis of the “Vision of the Valley,” Michal Fox pays attention to Ezekiel’s role as a spectator and argues that this spectator’s position is employed as a very strategic plan to give the impression of objectivity to the vision (Fox, 8). Emphasizing Ezekiel’s scribal role in the vision, Thomas Renz also points out that the vision report as a script expects readers to internalize and experience Ezekiel’s messages, as though the prophet “ate” the scroll (2:9–​3:3; Renz, 18). Fourth, Robson proposes to see Ezekiel as a prescriptive sign (24:15–​27) as well as “a paradigm for the house of Israel” while readers would consider the “anti-​paradigmatic” perspective with the literary audience (Robson, 207, 229). Overall, with the generic name Ben Adam, Ezekiel is the first receiver of the divine message and the appointed mediator both through the oral compliance at the discourse level and the written text at the reading level.

3.4  The Book of Ezekiel: the Latent Messenger in Liminality Now we ask how the book of Ezekiel itself can be regarded as the active entity that invites readers to interact. The answer lies in the degree of the text’s dependency on the readers’ participation. The book of Ezekiel encourages the reader’s active involvement to figure out the book’s genuine intention beyond the surface level. Throughout the rereading process, readers may first learn how to detach themselves from the condemned addressees, observe the elected messenger Ben Adam, and finally imitate him to practice the projected divine plan.

Communications of the Book of Ezekiel    325 The Dry Bone Vision (37:1–​14) is an excellent example to invite readers into the scene to experience this transformational reading. The prophet himself started as the spectator but was invited to advance as the active participant and finally experienced the power of prophecy when he obeyed the divine command (McKeating, 106). Renz also argues that the book aims to persuade the implied reader as the second generation of exiles “to find their identity neither in Babylon nor in the Jerusalem in the past” but associate with the newly proposed Yhwh’s sanctuary-​centered community (Renz, 229). Overall, the book embodies the prophet to whom Yhwh supposedly embodies for the communication with the exiles. In other words, self-​confined Yhwh embodies Ezekiel, but Ezekiel (with Yhwh) is also confined within his private space at the discourse level and rarely comes out to encounter his literary audience. Consequently, although Ben Adam was the only contact point with the divine at that time, Ezekiel’s embodiment is not appreciated until readers actively situate themselves as “Ben Adam.” Thus, the book is indeed a latent messenger and invites readers to activate this final embodiment of all the book’s treasures and transform themselves as directed.

3.5  Implied Reader: the Invited Messenger Now, it is time to think of the implied reader as a final participant regarding the communication of the book of Ezekiel. What does the book want the reader to do? According to speech-​act theory in the oral communication world, the locutionary act is the performance of meaningful utterance itself. The illocutionary act is the act in the locution, and the perlocutionary cause is the speaker’s intention to cause the listener to act as a reaction (Bach, 147–​66; Cohen, 493). This theory is also widely applied to the written discourse together with other literary and rhetorical theories (Pratt). Ever since John Austin and John Searle’s speech-​act theory pioneered the pragmatics discussion in the linguistics field, biblical scholars also have applied it to the biblical interpretations (White, 1–​24; BeDuhn, 477–​505; Briggs, 229–​72; Vanhoozer, 1–​46; Wolterstorff, 13). Regarding the issue of communication in the book of Ezekiel, it becomes clear that many illocutionary forces—​with the forms of warning, declaration, command, encouragement, or promise—​do not get the desired outcomes but are simply jammed into the divine commands. From the beginning, I have asked how to understand this phenomenon. Were Yhwh’s illocutionary forces toward the audience forfeited? Did Yhwh fail on this mission? Or, does the book reserve these strategically twisted commands for the reader’s activation? Yhwh’s unceasing expression of his predicted frustration with an unchangeable audience leads us to conjecture the latter is the case. The forfeited scenario only works at the discourse level. As Robson points out, this rhetorical strategy serves to overcome the lack of expected performance because the messages were “inaudible to onlookers,” i.e., the literary audience of the prophet (Robson, 34). The concept of “perlocutionary effect” gives us room to change the path of the illocutionary force because the effect depends on the receiver’s understanding, will, and ability to take action (Davis, 119). These very unpredictable and unconventional outcomes of

326    SOO J. KIM Sweeney the perlocutionary effects make it possible to open a new level for the reader’s interaction with the same content in a new context (Harris, 170). It is like a script or even the notes of chords whose life heavily relies on the reader or player. Whoever reads it, this book requires that person to change his or her attitude to access this perlocutionary communication mode. Robson’s list suggests the expectation of the implied reader’s perlocutionary effect as the (newly formed) house of Israel: the ritualistic renewal (11:17–​21), worship renewal (20:40–​44); leadership renewal (34:23–​ 24; 45:8, 9; 46:18), and moral renewal (chs. 40–​48; Robson, 189–​91). As Ellen Davis points out, the purpose of the prophet’s extended message to the reader lies in the creation of a new community (Davis, 127).

4.  Conclusion We have examined the communications of the book of Ezekiel both in the discourse world and the reader’s world. At the discourse level, the book most often reserves or hides the compliance scenes. The literary audience is continuously overridden by both the sender and the messenger and evaluated as rebellious. Thanks to focalization, when the readers start reading, they are already transported into the private conversation space as the observer/​spectator. There, the reader can listen (read) to Yhwh’s words as an eavesdropper before they are publicly proclaimed by the messenger. By doing so, the book situates readers in the prophet’s position rather than the literary audience. The exclusion process of the audience group is unpacked in a twofold manner, spatially excluding the people in the land (the virtual audience) and temporally excluding the golah community (the literary audience). When readers get lost in identifying themselves, the only contact person remaining is Ben Adam, the obedient priest-​prophet who experienced unspeakable miracles through visions, as we read in ­chapter 37. Through this character’s experience that Ben Adam was required to live in an indeterminate and liminal period, we readers may also learn how to hold the divine promise until its arrival. As we have experienced in reading the book of Ezekiel, the perlocutionary causes to project the appropriate perlocutionary effect are often temporarily deferred or stopped by the author’s compositional strategy. Nonetheless, the reader is still responsible for making the appropriate perlocutionary effect. As mountains and the land should prepare the future by the divine order, the reader must be ready to be transformed by the hand of Yhwh. Therefore, the unique communication elements in the book of Ezekiel signal to the implied reader to standby for the restoration day.

Notes 1. The employment of the third person masculine pronoun for Yhwh is based on the grammatical reference for Yhwh in the book of Ezekiel in particular, and the Hebrew Bible in general.

Communications of the Book of Ezekiel    327 2. With the term “audience-​character” I emphasize that the supposed addressee of prophet Ezekiel is indeed the character in the first person narrative framework of the book of Ezekiel. Even though their role is mainly limited to the audience role, they often appear as interlocutors within the narrative.

Bibliography Bach, Kent. “Speech Acts and Pragmatics.” In The Blackwell Guide to the Philosophy of Language, edited by Michael Devitt and Richard Hanley, 147–​66. Malden: Blackwell Publishing, 2006. Beck, David R. The Discipleship Paradigm: Readers and Anonymous Characters in the Fourth Gospel. BIS 27. Leiden: Brill, 1997. BeDuhn, Jason David. “The Historical Assessment of Speech Acts: Clarifications of Austin and Skinner for the Study of Religions.” Method and Theory in the Study of Religion 12/​1 (2000): 477–​505. Briggs, Richard S. “The Uses of Speech-​Act Theory in Biblical Interpretation.” Currents in Research: Biblical Studies 9 (2001): 229–​72. Carvalho, Corrine L. The Book of Ezekiel: Question by Question. Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2010. Cohen, Ted. “Illocutions and Perlocutions.” Foundations of Language 9.4 (1973): 492–​503. Crouch, C. L. “Ezekiel’s Immobility and the Meaning of ‘the House of Judah’ in Ezekiel 4.” Journal for the Study of Old Testament 44/​1 (2019): 182–​97. Crouch, C. L. “Duelling Dynasties: A Proposal concerning Ezekiel’s Sign-​Act of the Two Sticks.” Journal for the Study of Old Testament 45/​1 (2020): 3–​19. Davis, Ellen F. Swallowing the Scroll: Textuality and the Dynamics of Discourse in Ezekiel’s Prophecy. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement 78. Bible and Literature Series 21. Sheffield: Almond Press, 1989. Fox, Michael. “Rhetoric of Ezekiel’s Vision of the Valley of the Bones.” Hebrew Union College Annual 51 (1980): 1–​15. Fröchtling, Andrea. Exiled God and Exiled Peoples: Memoria Passionis and the Perception of God During and After Apartheid and Shoah. Münster: LIT, 2002. Genette, Gérard. Narrative Discourse: An Essay in Method. Oxford: Blackwell, 1972. Harris, James F. “Speech Acts and God Talk.” International Journal for Philosophy of Religion 11/​ 3 (1980): 167–​83. Hildebrandt, Samuel. Interpreting Quoted Speech in Prophetic Literature: A Study of Jeremiah 2.1-​3. Leiden: Brill, 2017. Iser, Wolfgang. The Act of Reading: A Theory of Aesthetic Response. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1978. Jahn, Manfred. “More Aspects of Focalization: Refinements and Applications.” Groupe de Recherches Anglo-​Américaines de Tours 21 (1999): 85–​110. Joyce, Paul M. Ezekiel: A Commentary. New York: T&T Clark, 2007. Kim, Soo J. “Ashamed Before the Presence of God: Theological Contexts of Shame in the Book of Ezekiel.” In Theology of the Hebrew Bible: Volume 1 Methodological Studies, edited by Marvin A. Sweeney. Resources for Biblical Studies 92, 213–​44. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2019. Kim, Soo J. “Was Ezekiel A Messenger? A Manager? Or a Moving Sanctuary? A Beckettian Reading of the Book of Ezekiel in the Inquiry of the Divine Presence.” In Partners with God: Theological and Critical Readings of the Bible in Honor of Marvin A. Sweeney, edited

328    SOO J. KIM Sweeney by Shelley L Birdsong and Serge Frolov, 237–​50. Claremont Studies in Hebrew Bible & Septuagint, 2. Claremont: Claremont Press, 2017. Kim, Soo J. “Yhwh Shammah: The City as Gateway to the Presence of Yhwh.” Journal for the Study of Old Testament 39.2 (2014): 187–​207. Lapsley, Jacqueline. Can These Bones Live: The Problem of the Moral Self in the Book of Ezekiel. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 301. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2000. Liss, Hanna. “ ‘Describe the Temple to the House of Israel’: Preliminary Remarks on the Temple Vision in the Book of Ezekiel and the Question of Fictionality in Priestly Literatures.” In Utopia and Dystopia in Prophetic Literature, edited by Ehud Ben Zvi. PFES 92, 122–​43. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2006. Margolin, Uri. “Focalization: Where Do We Go from Here?” In Point of View Perspective, and Focalization. Narratologia Contributions to Narrative Theory, edited by Fotis Jannidis, Matías Matínez, John Pier, and Wolf Schmid, 41–​58. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2009. McKeating, Henry. “Ezekiel the ‘Prophet Like Moses’?” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 61 (1994): 97–​109. Meir, Samuel. Speaking of Speaking: Marking Direct Discourse in the Hebrew Bible. Vetus Testamentum Supplements 46. Leiden: Brill, 1992. Mroczek, Eva. “How Not to Build a Temple: Jacob, David, and the Unbuilt Ideal in Ancient Judaism.” Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic, and Roman Periods 46 (2015): 1–​35. Nogalski, James. Interpreting Prophetic Literature: Historical and Exegetical Tools for Reading the Prophets. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015. Pratt, Mary Louise. Toward a Speech Act Theory of Literary Discourse. Bloomington, IL: Indiana University Press, 1977. Renz, Thomas. The Rhetorical Function of the Book of Ezekiel. Vetus Testamentum Supplements 76. Leiden: Brill, 2002. Robson, Jason. Word and Spirit in Ezekiel. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 447. New York: T&T Clark, 2006. Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit. “Ezekiel as Voice of Exile and Constructor of Exilic Theology.” Hebrew Union College Annual 76 (2006): 1–​45. Schöpflin, Karin. Theologie als Biographie. Theologie als Biographie im Ezechielbuch. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 36. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002. Stacey, David. Prophetic Drama in the Old Testament. Westminster, London: Epworth Press, 1990. Strong, John T. “In Defense of the Great King: Ezekiel’s Oracles against Tyre.” In Concerning the Nations: Essays of the Oracles against the Nations in Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel, edited by Else K. Holt, Hyun Chul Paul Kim and Andrew Mein. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 612, 179–​94. London and New York: Bloomsbury, 2015. Sweeney, Marvin A. Reading Ezekiel: A Literary and Theological Commentary. Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 2013. Sweeney, Soo Kim. ““Jonathan’s (Great) Grandmother Is a Daughter of a Foreign Priest!” Other Women, Other Priests, and Other Gods in Judges 17–​18.” In Judges, Gender, and Intertextuality, edited by Shelley L. Birdsong, Hyun Chul Paul Kim, and J. Cornelis de Vos. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, forthcoming. Sweeney, Soo Kim. “Rattling Noises in the Valley of Dry Bones: A Liminal Reading of Ezekiel 37:1-​14.” In Theology of the Hebrew Bible Volume 2: Texts, Theological Readers, and Their

Communications of the Book of Ezekiel    329 Worlds, edited by Soo Kim Sweeney, David Frankel, Marvin A. Sweeney. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, forthcoming. Sweeney, Soo Kim. “Embodiment, Liminality, and Intertextual Allusions: A Spatial Reading of the Jeroboam Narrative.” Lexington Theological Quarterly XLIX (2021): 57–​77. Tiemeyer, Lena-​Sofia. “Ezekiel: A Compromised Prophet in Reduced Circumstances.” In Constructs of Prophecy in the Former and Latter Prophets and Other Texts. Eds. Lester L. Grabbe and Martti Nissinen. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2011, 175–​95. Torrey, Charles C. Pseudo-​Ezekiel and the Original Prophecy. Yale Oriental Series Researchers 18. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1930. Ubersfeld, Anne. Reading Theatre. Trans. Frank Collins. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1999. Vanhoozer, Kevin. “From Speech Acts to Scripture Acts: The Covenant of Discourse and the Discourse of Covenant.” In After Pentecost: Language and Biblical Interpretation. Eds. Craig G. Bartholomew, Colin J. D Greene, and Karl Möller. Scripture and Hermeneutics Series 2. Carlisle, Cumbria: Paternoster Press, 2001, 1–​46. White, Hug C. “Introduction: Speech Act Theory and Literary Criticism.” Semeia 41 (1988): 1–​24. White, John J. Bertolt Brecht’s Dramatic Theory. Studies in German Literature, Linguistics, and Culture. Rochester, NY: Camden House, 2004. Wolterstorff, Nicholas. Divine Discourse: Philosophical Reflections on the Claim That God Speaks. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezekiel 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel. Trans. Ronald E. Clements. Hermeneia. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1979.

Chapter 17

Ezekiel in Ch ri st ia n Interpretat i on Gog, Magog, and Apocalyptic Politics Andrew Mein

The Bible is a book rather full of enemies, some personal, others national; some anonymous, others well known; some human, others more than human. One abiding theme in Jewish and Christian eschatology has been the idea of a final battle between good and evil, in which the ultimate enemy is defeated, and a new, better world inaugurated. This last battle is most familiar as the “Armageddon” of the New Testament book of Revelation, but it also appears in Hebrew Bible texts, among which Ezekiel 38–​39 has pride of place. In this oracle restored Israel faces one last terrifying threat in the person of “Gog of Magog, chief prince of Meshech and Tubal” (Ezekiel 38:1), who gathers an enormous army to assault Israel, but is ultimately defeated by YHWH. Gog does not obviously represent one of Israel’s traditional enemies (Zimmerli 1983, 304), and this lack of a historical anchor has made him a remarkably malleable figure for later interpreters. For Christians, this appropriation received impetus from the reappearance of Gog and Magog in the book of Revelation (20:8–​9), where they are nations deceived by Satan, whom God will defeat immediately before the last judgment and the arrival of the New Jerusalem. Eschatological narratives try to explain fundamental truths about the contemporary human world and to persuade others to share this worldview. Gog and Magog have had remarkable staying power as part of that discourse, with significant afterlives in the political eschatology of all three religions of the book: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam (see, e.g., Railton 2003; van Donzel and Schmidt 2010). My aim here is not to treat these afterlives comprehensively, but to explore how Christian interpreters in particular have engaged with Ezekiel’s Gog. To do this, I shall trace three significant trajectories in Christian interpretation of Ezekiel 38–​39. First, Christian readers have often decoded Ezekiel 38–​39 in terms of current geopolitics, identifying Gog with whichever enemy

Ezekiel in Christian Interpretation    331 is most pressing. Secondly, they have read the oracle for its theological politics, using history, allegory, and typology to draw out its deeper meaning. Thirdly, they have remythologized the Gog oracle, incorporating it into fresh stories of cosmic battle and eschatological fulfilment. These three modes of interpretation are by no means incompatible, and authors often engage in more than one at a time. They differ from typical Christian readings of the rest of Ezekiel in the degree to which they focus on eschatological or apocalyptic politics.

1.  The Apocalyptic Gog Even by Ezekiel’s standards, the Gog oracle offers a dramatic narrative of future threat and salvation. In the Masoretic Text of Ezekiel, the text is sandwiched between the prophecies of restoration in c­ hapters 34–​37 and the temple vision of 40–​48.1 The oracle opens with the typically Ezekielian injunction, “Son of man, set your face towards Gog . . .” In language reminiscent of the oracles against the nations (Ezekiel 25–​32), YHWH continues, “I am against you, O Gog” (38:3; cf. 26:3; 28.22; 29.3, 10; 35:3). There follows a stylized and hyperbolic battle narrative (Carvalho 2016), in which Gog, apparently under divine direction from the outset, arrives out of the mythological north with an enormous horde of mounted warriors in full armor, and is accompanied by allies from the furthest reaches of the known world. The text emphasizes Gog’s evil intentions: driven by a desire for plunder, he assaults “unwalled villages” and “quiet people who live in safety.” As Corrine Carvalho (2016, 121) puts it: “There is no better way to depict a villain than to make him slayer of the defenseless.” The oracle shares the intense theocentricity of the rest of the book: Gog is not defeated by human arms, but by the miraculous power of a divine warrior who fights alone. Gog and his armies fall in a rain of fire and brimstone, and their bodies are given as a sacrificial feast to the birds and beasts. All that Israel does is gather the discarded weapons for firewood and bury the bones to purify the land. The text is punctuated by recognition formulae that emphasize its theocentric nature: “So I will display my greatness and my holiness and make myself known in the eyes of many nations. Then they shall know that I am the LORD” (38:23; cf. 39:21–​23). Ezekiel 38–​39 firmly establishes God’s power and holiness in the face of an “ultimate” enemy, whose invasion will take place at a time of God’s choosing and in the manner God has determined. The text walks an uncomfortable line between the realistic and the mythological, and comes closer than any other part of Ezekiel to the kinds of eschatological speculation found in Daniel, 1 Enoch, and Revelation. How “apocalyptic” a text is this? Scholars are divided. The classic definition of the genre comes from John Collins (1979, 9): “Apocalypse” is a genre of revelatory literature with a narrative framework, in which a revelation is mediated by an otherworldly being to a human recipient, disclosing a

332   Andrew Mein transcendent reality which is both temporal, in that it envisages eschatological salvation, and spatial, insofar as it involves another, supernatural world.

Ezekiel’s Gog oracle contains some, but not all, of these features. It lacks the vertical dimension: there is no angelic interpreter or heavenly journey (both of which, it could be argued, appear in other parts of the book). Gog is a human king, whose allies come from the (admittedly) further reaches of the known world. His army is a human army, armed with the usual accoutrements of mounted warriors: swords and shields, bows and spears. His invasion takes place within the timeline of human history; it does not inaugurate an eschatological “end,” but represents an interruption to restored Israel’s peaceful occupation of the land. One popular view has been to connect Gog’s name with Gyges, a seventh-​century king of Lydia in Asia Minor. Daniel Block, for example, sees Ezekiel drawing on nations from distant Anatolia to create an archetypal enemy figure. But for Block, the invasion remains a “local problem,” (1998, 428) and only with Revelation do Gog and Magog enter the realm of eschatology proper. Yet this approach downplays the apocalyptic elements that are undoubtedly present in Ezekiel 38–​39 (Cook 1995 and 2018; Tooman 2011, 258). The repetition of phrases like “after many days” (38:8) or “on that day” (38:20, 14, 18, 19; 39:11) keeps the reader’s focus firmly on the future. There is a strong historical determinism here, accompanied by a radical shift away from the sixth-​century geopolitical realities that dominate Ezekiel’s oracles against Judah and the nations. Gog’s allies represent a global confederation of the most distant known nations. The narrative emphasizes the vast size of this horde, which will advance on Israel “like a storm, . . . like a cloud covering the land” (38:9: cf. 38:16). After Gog’s defeat there will be so many discarded weapons that they will take seven years for all of Israel to burn, and so many bones that they will take seven months to bury. The final battle appears in supernatural and cosmic terms, accompanied by earthquake, fire, brimstone, and a miraculous confusion in which “the swords of all will be against their comrades” (38:21) There is also a degree of moral dualism: Gog is a mysterious and terrifying figure, whom Stephen Cook goes so far as to call “pure chaos and evil” (2018, 82). For Cook, the heightened language of this oracle is not mere hyperbole, but an early representation of the “otherworldly eschatological prophecy” and “millennial worldview” found more fully in works like Daniel, Enoch, and Revelation. While some caution about the terms “apocalyptic” and “proto-​apocalyptic” is certainly appropriate, there seems little doubt that Ezekiel’s Gog oracle stands closer to later apocalyptic literature in both tone and content than almost any other part of the Hebrew Bible. Whatever the outcome of modern critical debates about the genre and intention of the oracle, these more apocalyptic elements have most often captured the imagination of Christian readers across the centuries. Few interpreters before the modern era saw their primary task as recovering the text’s original meaning and context. Instead, their deepest concern was to understand and explain the biblical text’s relevance to their own lives and communities. Ezekiel 38–​39 offers rich resources for this not

Ezekiel in Christian Interpretation    333 only because of the way it places the world of nations and rulers in an eschatological frame, but also because its details are vague enough for readers to reapply them to new situations.

2.  The Geopolitical Gog Christian interpretation of Ezekiel 38–​39 has a checkered history, not least when it comes to recent politics. The internet is full of “prophecy” websites, which explain how current events in the Middle East are fulfilling Ezekiel’s oracle. In 2020 and 2021 the British Daily Express newspaper published no fewer than five articles on theories of “Christian conspiracists” in which Gog and Magog appear. Looking back over the past fifty years, there are reports of at least two US presidents, Ronald Reagan and George W. Bush, applying these biblical figures to contemporary events (Lee 2017). Reagan identified Gog with Soviet Russia and the fire and brimstone of Ezekiel’s oracle with nuclear weapons. Bush, on the other hand, prior to the 2003 invasion of Iraq, announced to the French president Jacques Chirac that Gog and Magog were at work in Saddam Hussein’s Iraq, and that “biblical prophecies were being fulfilled.” In each case politicians could easily map the political enmities of their own age onto the contours of biblical eschatology. Such presidential interventions are only the tip of an iceberg of identification; Christian readers throughout history have regularly been tempted to find the political and military travails of their own age encoded in the text (Boyer 1992; Railton 2003). Christian geopolitical interpretation of Gog has roots in the writings of the Jewish historian Josephus, who identifies Magog and the Magogites in Genesis 10 as those “who are by the Greeks called Scythians” (A. J. 1.6.1). The term “Scythians” refers broadly to barbarian tribes from the Danube to the Caucasus, and this identification fits extremely well with Ezekiel’s repeated assertion that Gog’s army will emerge from “the remotest parts of the north” (38:5, 15; 39:2). Revelation 20:8 claims that Gog and Magog will come from “the four corners of the earth,” but Christian interpreters from the patristic period onwards have often preferred Ezekiel’s “northern barbarian” approach. Thus, for Ambrose, writing towards the end of the fourth century CE, Gog represented the Goths, marauding towards the Italian heartlands. The similarity in sound between the words “Gog” and “Goth” encouraged this identification, but it must also relate to the ferocity of Gothic attacks against the Roman Empire. In the peroration to book 2 of his De Fide, Ambrose encourages the Emperor Gratian that his coming campaign against the barbarians will succeed, since his victory is foretold in scripture (Humphries 2010, 51–​53). Ambrose draws specific attention to Ezekiel 38:14 with the introductory words: “For Ezekiel already prophesied at that time both our future depopulation and the Gothic wars.” He goes on: “That Gog is the Goth, whom we now see coming out, about whom is promised to us a future victory, according to the word of the Lord.” He also

334   Andrew Mein inserts a gloss into the following quotation from Ezek 39:11: “ ‘And it shall be in that day, that I will give to Gog,’ that is, to the Goths, ‘a renowned place,’ ” which is Gog’s grave.2 While Ambrose’s words contain more assertion than exegesis, a more careful approach appears in a sermon by Theodore Synkellos of the Great Church of Constantinople in 626. The sermon celebrated a recent victory over the Avars (another barbarian people) and argues that Ezekiel’s prophecy relates to Constantinople, the new Jerusalem. For Theodore Synkellos, the past destruction of the original Jerusalem and the scattering of Jews throughout the world demonstrate that the prophecy cannot refer to the Jewish people. Constantinople is a better candidate to be “the navel of the earth” than ruined Jerusalem, and the Avars are a good fit with Gog, a greedy multitude of the sort that Ezekiel promised. Furthermore, a large part of the enemy army met their deaths in the waters of the Bay of the Horn, and this accords well with Ezekiel’s claim that Gog’s “famous place of burial” is set “on the sea, where all the people of Gog will be buried” (Magdalino and Nelson 2010, 16–​17). Interpretations like those of Ambrose and Theodore Synkellos could easily be multiplied, as Gog becomes in turn Goths, Avars, Danes, Saracens, Magyars, Mongols, and Turks. The most enduring modern face of Gog has been that of Russia, which Hal Lindsey popularized in his 1970 bestseller The Late Great Planet Earth. It is rooted in a preference for the Septuagint version of 38:1, which sees the Hebrew rosh not as “head” or “chief ” but as the proper name “Rhos,” which was then connected with “Rus” and Russia. Lindsey himself looks back to the nineteenth-​century Hebrew grammarian and lexicographer Wilhelm Gesenius, who argued not only that Rosh provides the “first historical traces of the Russ or Russian nation,” but also that the name “Moscow” is ultimately derived from Hebrew Meshech (Lindsey 1970, 65). Gesenius himself was no apocalyptist, but for Lindsey these etymological associations are an important piece of the jigsaw that enables him to identify Gog as America’s great enemy, the USSR, poised to fulfil Ezekiel’s prophecy by invading the restored (post-​1948) state of Israel. Although we associate the Russian Gog mostly with recent American dispensationalism, it first achieved popularity in Britain. During the nineteenth century, Britain and Russia were the two world powers of the day, and as the century progressed the British public became increasingly aware of competing imperial interests (the so-​called Great Game) and increasingly hostile to Russia. This reached a climax with the outbreak of the Crimean War in 1853, when Britain, France, and Ottoman Turkey went to war against Russia. The war provoked a rush of sermons and tracts identifying Gog with Russia and foreseeing British victory (Mein 2014; Reisenauer 2015). The anonymously authored tract, The Mission and Destiny of Russia, draws analogies between Gog’s international force in Ezek 38:4 and the Tsar’s army, gathered from throughout the Russian Empire: Never was such a multiform and mixed force marshalled under one leader, or engaged in one enterprise. . . . Well may Ezekiel describe them as a “cloud to cover the land,” and as horses and horsemen clothed with all sorts of armour, a great company, with bucklers and shields, all of them handling swords. The wild horses and

Ezekiel in Christian Interpretation    335 barbarous hordes of Tartary, and the semi-​savages of Moscovy, will mingle with the trim and gaudy uniforms of the west, and the majesty of European cavalry. The music of all nations will be blended into one shrill war-​hoop, wilder and fiercer than was ever heard among Indian tribes. (Pae 1853b, 17)3

Historian of the Crimean War Orlando Figes (2010, 70) notes that fear of Russia in numerous European publications “had as much to do with the imagination of an Asiatic ‘other’ threatening the liberties and civilization of Europe as with any real or perceived threat.” This is true of British millenarian interpretations of Ezekiel during the Crimean war: aligning the monstrous (and Asiatic) Gog with Britain’s current enemy played along with a caricature of the Russian Empire that was already well established. Millenarian preachers and pamphleteers also tried to find in Ezekiel a reference to Britain’s role in this great “coming struggle,” whose early battles were now being fought out in the Crimea. Their exegetical search was complicated by their commitment to a Christian Zionism in which biblical prophecies about Israel were to be literally fulfilled by the return of the Jews to Palestine. Unlike Theodore Synkellos, they could not make their imperial capital, London, the navel of the earth. Instead, they were forced to search the oracle’s minor characters for clues, and one interpretation returns repeatedly. Prophetic interpreters see Britain and its empire in the “merchants of Tarshish” of 38:13, who offer challenging words to Gog and his invading horde (Mein 2014; Reisenauer 2015, 58–​65). In an earlier work, the author of The Mission and Destiny of Russia trumpets: “Sheba and Dedan, and the merchants of Tarshish, with all the young lions thereof, shall say unto him, Art thou come to take a spoil? Hast thou gathered thy company to take a prey?” How emphatically does this language identify Britain as the noble and single–​handed opponent of Gog the king of the North. (Pae 1853a, 25–​26)

How indeed? Such an identification required considerable exegetical gymnastics, not least because prophetic interpreters were committed to a literal interpretation of the text. Rhos, Meshech, and Tubal are quite literally Russia, Moscow, and Tobolsk. The Russian Tsar is the literal descendant of these ancient peoples. Can the same be said for Britain and Tarshish? A few do manage to make that claim, but most have to make do with typology: as Tarshish was the great trading nation of the ancient world, so Britain is now “the most renowned maritime, colonizing, commercial, warlike people of the latter days” (Chamberlain 1854, 377). Interpreters went on to see Britain’s “young lions” as her imperial dominions—​especially her English-​speaking colonies—​who would assist in the nation’s noble struggle against evil. There is unquestionably a family resemblance between all the accounts I have described, from Ambrose and Theodore Synkellos to the British millenarians. With careful attention to the letter of the text, they find Gog in whichever barbaric invader appears the most pressing enemy, but Ezekiel’s geographical and ethnographic

336   Andrew Mein details lay down boundaries for possible interpretation, and interpreters must decode these obscure details successfully. It is also striking that, unlike the typical characterization of millenarians as marginal figures, all these readings emerge in imperial centers, and fully support the power of the empire. Ambrose’s De Fide is addressed to none other than the Emperor Gratian, in whose imperial court he was a central figure. Paul Magdalino and Robert Nelson remark that despite the overblown rhetoric of the sermon, Theodore’s position within the patriarch of Constantinople’s staff means that he must have been expressing “an official point of view” (2010, 17). The nineteenth-​century British millenarians, though hardly central to British politics, write in support of a war to defend British imperial interests, and see Britain almost eclipse God as the author of Israel’s salvation.

3.  The Theological Gog A second strand of Christian interpretation is much more cautious about identifying Gog with any particular enemy, and instead it uses Ezekiel’s oracle as a quarry for theological reflection. The “signs of the times” style of interpretation seen in Ambrose and Theodore Synkellos did not dominate the understanding of Gog and Magog in late antiquity. Neither Jerome nor Theodoret, authors of the two earliest surviving commentaries on Ezekiel, subscribes to it. Indeed, despite wide divergences in their own approaches to the text, they both condemn this approach as typical of Jews or of Judaizing heretics. Theodoret of Cyrus, in his early fifth-​century commentary (2006, 252–​263), is impatient with those who are waiting for Gog to arrive. The prophecy was already fulfilled long ago. Presumably influenced by Josephus, he claims that Gog and Magog are Scythian nations, aided and abetted by an international coalition. These nations attacked Israel shortly after the return from Babylon, and Zerubbabel destroyed them. Gog’s assault against a land in peace, where there are no walls or doors or bars, reflects the time after the captivity when the cities of Judah had no defenses, by implication before Nehemiah rebuilt the walls of Jerusalem. Theodoret uses this biblical history to make a theological point: God’s victory over Gog proves his power and providence, like the defeat of Sennacherib recounted in Kings and Isaiah. It makes clear that the exile was God’s will, and it encourages repentance on the part of the people. Theodore also offers a theological rationale for his highly historicizing reading. This starts from Ezekiel’s typical recognition formula: “that all the nations will know me when I am hallowed through you in their sight.” The idea that Gog’s defeat provides crucial knowledge for the nations has become redundant in the Christian era, since true knowledge of God is available to all through Christ. Theodoret is scathing: if Gog is still to come, then he must be more important than the cross and resurrection, as well as the witness of the apostles. He concludes with deep sarcasm:

Ezekiel in Christian Interpretation    337 In other words, whereas all of these things did not have the power to teach the nations the God of all, only the slaughter of Gog will make him clear to everyone –​such is the obviously Jewish interpretation adopted by those spinning these fairy stories. (2006, 262)

This is a strong antidote to any understanding of Gog that sees him as the barbarian nation at our doorstep. Theodoret’s reading nevertheless represents something of a dead end, and was not much adopted for the next thousand years. Much more influential was Jerome’s approach, which retained the eschatological horizon of the oracle, but pointed it at the struggles of the church. In the preface to book 11 of his commentary, Jerome alludes unenthusiastically to Ambrose’s “Gothic” interpretation. At the relevant point in the commentary itself, he lays out his alternative in more detail. He dismisses the approach of “the Jews and our Judaizers,” who stay with mere geography and see Gog as the “savage and innumerable Scythian peoples,” who occupy the area from the Caucasus to India.4 But he is also critical of those who “forsake the earthly sense” and fabricate nonsense about the devil and his legions making war in the heavenly realms. He describes his own alternative as an “ecclesiastical explanation”: in this he both looks for the spiritual sense of individual words and phrases and frames the whole oracle as an allegory of the church’s current situation and future hope. Jerome draws on etymologies already noted by Origen. Gog is “roof ” and Magog “from the roof.” These point toward the present-​day problem of heretical teaching. The “roof ” is pride and false knowledge erected against the truth. Gog is therefore “the princes of the heretics,” while Magog, “from the roof ” comprises those who have taken up their false teaching. The oracle describes the church’s ongoing battle against heresy, and Jerome treats individual elements of the narrative in this light. For example, Gog’s arrival with his army “like a tempest” (Ezek 38:9) is like the impact of heretical teaching: For which of the heretics, whose prince is the devil, does not come like a tempest against the Church, and rushes to oppress the simple and those who believe by the cloud of their words?

Israel’s unwalled villages reflect the peaceful nature of the church, which is a temptation to the devil. The mountains of Israel where Gog will be defeated are the assembly of the orthodox. The bones of Gog’s army, left scattered around the land, represent “the hardness of heretical depravity, or some remnant of former teaching.” The ongoing task of the Israelite burial detachment is to mark this heresy ready for its removal. Of course, there are strong eschatological notes in this teaching, and without doubt the prevalence of heresy portends the end times. But we cannot escape the sense that Ezekiel’s oracle is really about a battle in which the church is currently engaged. A more spiritual understanding of Gog and Magog is also to be found in Augustine’s work. In the City of God, written perhaps ten years after Jerome’s commentary, Augustine also takes issue with those who would understand Gog and Magog as specific geographical or political entities. Rather, their invasion represents the persecution of the church,

338   Andrew Mein and this is not merely a sign of the end, but something Satan has been encouraging for some time already. The nations called Gog and Magog are not to be taken as standing for some barbarian peoples, whose home is in some particular part of the earth . . . It is indicated, in fact, that they exist all over the world when the first statement about “nations in the four corners of the earth” is followed by the remark that those nations are Gog and Magog. (City of God 20.11; Augustine 1984, 920)

Although this is a reference to Revelation 20 rather than Ezekiel, Augustine also plays with the same false Hebrew etymologies that Jerome did. The nations are that “roof ” under which the Devil is shut up and from which he rushes out. Moreover, they themselves will be “from the roof. . . when they burst out from covert into overt hatred.” The suggestion is that Gog’s invasion is an extensive persecution of Christians wherever they live throughout the world. The ecclesiastical allegory of Jerome and Augustine dominated Christian commentary on Ezekiel for the next thousand years. Gog was frequently associated not only with Satan, but also with the Antichrist, that other ultimate enemy and persecutor of the church. The Reformation brought a fresh emphasis on literal reading at the expense of the spiritual and allegorical. Alongside this came both a turn to history and a renewed enthusiasm for typology, in which biblical figures prefigure aspects of Christian history. Commentators were more inclined to limit the formal identification of Gog to the ancient world—​he most often represents the Seleucid kings of Syria, and especially Antiochus IV Epiphanes. But as the great persecutor of the Jews in the Hellenistic period, Antiochus was an effective type of the church’s present persecutors. A good, if unoriginal, example of this kind of thing can be found in the 1660 biblical notes of the Englishman John Trapp, who identifies Gog as “those last enemies of the Church, before Shiloh come; the kings of lesser Asia and Syria before his first coming (see the books of the Maccabees), the Pope and the Turk before his second coming.”5 A rather more sophisticated variation on this typological approach appears in the first major English commentary on Ezekiel, by the puritan William Greenhill. An independent/​congregationalist preacher, Greenhill wrote his commentary during the tumultuous years of the English Civil War and Oliver Cromwell’s protectorate. A strong supporter of Parliament during the war, he approved the execution of King Charles and was close enough to power that he was appointed by Parliament as chaplain to three of Charles’s children. It is important to Greenhill that Gog is the name of a man—​a prince—​and not the name of a region (1994, 754). This is indeed the most natural reading of the text, but it also suits his political purposes. On 38:3, where the text reads “Behold, I am against thee, O Gog,” Greenhill comments on the dreadful nature of the message the prophet must deliver to a “great prince,” the message that there is a greater prince than he. This general

Ezekiel in Christian Interpretation    339 view of kings and princes makes itself felt in his observations on the opening verses of the oracle: The great princes of the earth, being no friends to the church of God, have God for their enemy. . . . Kings generally are proud, profane, tyrannical, false to trust committed them, obstructing the way and work of Christ in the world where they can; therefore God is against them. (Greenhill 1994, 755)

This observation is peppered with biblical references to divine displeasure against kings (Psalm 2; Ezek 28, 29; Psalm 76) and their ignominious fates (Amos 2, Acts 12, Lamentations 2, Joshua 10, 2 Chron 21). Greenhill makes further observations about God’s power to bring enemies against his own people and to raise up men for his work and service, and on the ready presence of God’s enemies throughout the world. His final note here, though, is that “princes, notwithstanding all their preparations, cannot secure themselves nor those under their command” (756). Greenhill’s comments seem to apply to any and all princes, and he resists the simple identification of either Gog or Antichrist with particular figures, past or present. The Gog oracle also demonstrates that kings and princes are not above punishment for their crimes. Ezekiel 39:17–​20 calls the birds and the beasts to a sacrifice God has prepared from the bodies of Gog’s army: “Ye shall eat the flesh of the mighty, and drink the blood of the princes of the earth, of rams of lambs and of bullocks, all of them fatlings of Bashan.” Greenhill observes, with typical disdain for the powerful: God is impartial in his judicial dispensations, he punished the great delinquents as well as the lesser. Mighty men, those that ride in chariots, are slaughtered and given to the fowls and the beasts, as well as the inferior sort, the men of war. . . . God made them all a sacrifice. God is a righteous God, and executes his judgments without respect of persons. Let not great men flatter themselves, they will not be exempted when God comes forth to judgment, though they be princes. (1994, 770)

Greenhill reserves the royal prerogative of justice for God, and in doing so undermines the authority of mere human kings, tapping directly into one of the most pressing issues of his day. His exegesis alludes to recent events in England but is not exhausted by them. The historian Christopher Hill suggested that Greenhill’s commentary consisted of little more than “lengthy interpretations of and glosses on current affairs” (1993, 104–​105). This is true up to a point, but the commentary is more than that. If we set his interpretation of Ezekiel’s oracle in the context of the wider commentary and of his involvement with Parliament, we can see the beginning of a developed political theology in which kings and otherworldly powers will be dethroned and replaced by the rule of Christ and his saints. In their commentary on Revelation, Judith Kovacs and Christopher Rowland contrast readings that “decode” the biblical text and readings that “actualize” it. Actualizing readings seek to apply the text by juxtaposing biblical imagery “with the interpreter’s

340   Andrew Mein own circumstances, so as to allow the images to inform understanding of contemporary persons and events and to serve as a guide to action” (2013, 8–​9). There is less concern to pin down interpretation to “one particular historical personage or circumstance.” Any allegorical reading must involve a certain amount of decoding, but when Jerome equates Gog’s armies with heretics, he is strikingly reticent about precisely which heretics he means. When Greenhill condemns kingship, it is not only Charles I he is writing about, but a whole system of government that scripture has shown to be fundamentally antichristian. We are well beyond the simple equation of Gog with one tribe of barbarians or another, and we might fairly describe these readings as more properly theological.

4.  The Mythological Gog The third and final trajectory takes us back towards late antiquity and the medieval world. While exegetical approaches have dominated Christian reflection on Gog and Magog, a significantly different way of appropriating Ezekiel’s text is to re-​imagine and rewrite it. Such re-​imagination may even be the earliest of the three trajectories, since this is the model that the book of Revelation adopts. Revelation revisits Ezekiel 38–​39, but is neither an exegesis nor a straightforward retelling of the oracle’s story. Instead, Revelation takes elements of Ezekiel’s text and imagery and works them into its own eschatological vision (Bøe 2001). The Gog oracle makes itself felt at two main points. First, Revelation 19:17–​19, which describes the defeat of the Beast, contains an invitation to the birds to “eat the flesh of the mighty” that is highly reminiscent of Ezekiel’s beastly banquet (38:17–​20). Second, and more importantly, Gog and Magog themselves appear in Revelation 20:7–​10, although in a significantly different constellation. Gog is no longer a prince and Magog a place in the uttermost north. Rather, both have become names for “the nations at the four corners of the earth” who will make up the forces of Satan on his release from a thousand years of captivity. Revelation’s transformation of Gog and Magog into enemy nations may well be part of a trend, vestiges of which can be seen in Jewish literature of the period. There is evidence of this from Qumran and the Sibylline Oracles, and “Gog and Magog” later became shorthand for Israel’s eschatological enemies in the Targums and rabbinic literature (Bøe 2001, 140–​208). The precise mechanism of their transformation is, for our purposes, less important than Revelation’s approach to the source text in Ezekiel, which is very different from those typical of the later Christian approaches I have already described. Rather than offering an exegesis of the text, it recasts it as fresh revelation or arcane knowledge, reworking words and images to put them in new contexts. In doing this, Revelation also ironically provides a potential key for interpreting Ezekiel 38–​39, which later Christian readers find hard to ignore.

Ezekiel in Christian Interpretation    341 At least one substantial and enduring example takes this more “revelatory” trajectory well beyond Revelation: the tradition of Alexander’s Gate (Anderson 1932; Bøe 2001, 219–​230). The story, again, begins with Josephus. In his Jewish War, the historian alludes to an iron gate that Alexander the Great had built somewhere in Scythia (B. J. 7.7.4). Whatever its original source, as legends about Alexander’s life developed in successive centuries, writers connected this incident with the biblical Gog and Magog. Alexander built the gate to imprison these monstrous peoples, but in the end times they will burst out to threaten the civilized world. One form of this story or another is present in numerous versions of the Alexander Legend and in many languages: the connection between Gog and Alexander was probably first made in Syriac apocalyptic writings of the seventh century CE (Greisiger 2016), from where it spread into literature from all over medieval Europe. The story was also incorporated into the Qur’an and became a significant theme in Islamic eschatology. Marjorie Reeves expresses its power when she claims that for medieval people, “as the bulwark of the civilized world the Gate was taken seriously by learned and simple alike” (1984, 43). The most influential version of the story is found in the Apocalypse of Pseudo-​ Methodius. This was originally composed in Syriac at the end of the seventh century, a time of great uncertainty when the Christian community was reeling from the shock of the recent Arab invasions. It recounts world history from Adam to the end times, focusing on successive waves of foreign invaders until the arrival of antichrist, but ultimately offering hope for the redemption of the world by the second coming of Christ (Alexander 1985; Garstad 2012). Ezekiel’s Gog oracle plays a key role in this extraordinary story. At one point the author offers a strange reversal of the geopolitical readings we saw earlier. Chapter 11 describes the arrival of the Ishmaelites, the Arabs, who will gather at a place called Gabaoth, where they will inflict a terrible defeat on the Christian Roman Empire. This defeat fulfills Ezekiel 39, a point made explicit in the influential Greek and Latin versions of Pseudo-​Methodius: And there will be fulfilled what was said through the prophet Ezekiel: “Son of man,” he said, “call the beasts of the field and the birds of the heaven and urge them on, saying, ‘Gather yourselves together and come, since I will offer a great sacrifice for you. Eat the flesh of the mighty and drink the blood of giants.’ ” (Garstad 2012, 39; cf. Alexander 1985, 44)6

In an ironic reversal it is now the people of God, rather than God’s enemies, who provide a feast for the birds and the beasts. As well as this twist on the “classic approach” and, crucially, more influentially, Pseudo-​Methodius also recounts the legend of Alexander’s Gate. Chapter 8 briefly describes Alexander’s conquests, but is more interested in a visit to the “Country of the Sun,” where he encountered “ugly and unclean nations,” who eat every foul thing, up to and including their own dead (Garstad 2012; 23; cf. Alexander 1985, 40). To protect the Holy Land from invasion, Alexander drove them to the “furthest regions of the North”

342   Andrew Mein (cf. Ezek 38:6, 15), where he made a miraculous gate that the enclosed nations could not open. But all will change in due course: In the end times, according to what the prophecy of Ezekiel says, in the last day of the consummation of the world Gog and Magog, who are the nations and kings that Alexander hid in the ends of the North, will come out into the land of Israel. (Garstad 2012, 27; cf. Alexander 1985, 41)

As the Apocalypse continues towards its climax, the unclean nations reappear in fulfillment of this prophecy. After the Arabs have been defeated and the land is at peace (cf. Ezek 38:11), the gates will be unbarred and the nations will come out, who “eat the flesh of men and drink the blood of beasts like water,” but they will finally be defeated in the Holy Land by one of the angelic commanders of the Lord’s army (Garstad 2012, 61–​62; cf. Alexander 1985, 49–​50). Pseudo-​Methodius does not invoke Ezekiel again explicitly, but the mentions of a land at peace, of unburied bodies, and of eating human flesh and blood together create a strongly Ezekielian atmosphere. It is striking that unlike most of the exegetical readings, which bring Gog into the reader’s present, Pseudo-​Methodius retains something of the shape of Ezekiel’s original prophecy, presenting Gog and Magog as a threat that is yet more strange and terrifying than the Arab invasions which are the community’s immediate problem. The Apocalypse of Pseudo-​Methodius was enormously influential. Translated into Greek and then Latin within a few years of its composition, it circulated widely in East and West, and was often translated into the vernaculars of western Europe. Indeed, Benjamin Garstad goes so far as to claim that “few works are as evocative of the anxiety of the Middle Ages” (2012, xxiii). For its many readers, the book of Ezekiel is represented through the figures of Gog and Magog, the unclean nations whom Alexander shut away, and who will return to devastate the world at the end of the age. Here Gog and Magog are nothing if not the distillation of biblical anxieties about the other. The influence of this tradition is clear in numerous medieval maps. A fine example is the Ebstorf Mappamundi, produced in Germany in the mid-​thirteenth century (Gow 1998). Gog and Magog appear in the extreme northeast, enclosed by a high wall. They are depicted as monstrous figures eating human hands and feet, and between them lies a human figure bleeding from the stumps of its arms and legs. The caption reads: “Alexander enclosed two wild nations, Gog and Magog, who will be the companions of Antichrist. They eat human flesh and drink human blood” (Gow 1998, 72). Elsewhere the map also associates Gog and Magog with the Turks: “A barbarous and wild people who eat the flesh of young people and aborted foetuses” (Gow 1998, 73). The map thus collapses the eschatological enemy to some extent into the present fear of a yet-​distant Turkish threat. The Turks would, of course, become more prominent in Gog-​exegesis after the fall of Constantinople in 1453, not least in the writings of Martin Luther (Railton 2003, 37). These examples offer a very different approach to the biblical text than the first two trajectories, both of which subject it to some kind of exegetical control. What happens as Gog meets Alexander is something more like a re-​imagination or re-​mythologization

Ezekiel in Christian Interpretation    343 of the story, which is now only loosely anchored in the details of Ezekiel’s prophecy, but nevertheless draws on biblical authority for its credibility.

5.  Concluding Reflections I have described three significant trajectories in the interpretation of Ezekiel’s Gog oracle, each of which takes a different approach to the question of Gog’s identity, the horrific details of the original text and the kind of hope the oracle offers. Ezekiel 38–​39 always encourages its readers to make distinctions between “us” and “them,” and within the first trajectory, that of Ambrose and Theodore Synkellos, “them” is a clearly defined and identifiable military enemy, be it the Goths or the Avars, the Russian emperor or Saddam Hussein. This exegetical judgment makes sense of the oracle by bringing it into the more straightforward course of history and representing it in familiar geopolitical categories. In making connections with the known, the practice of exegesis defuses the horror and uncanniness of the original text. Everything is foreseen, everything is explicable, and Ezekiel’s rhetoric is just a cipher for things and events that readers can recognize around themselves. Insofar as the second trajectory shares an element of decoding with the first, there is also room to defuse the text. Theodoret finds an identifiable political enemy in the text, but this enemy is long gone, so the immediate question of “us and them” is less pressing. The geopolitics of the past function as a spur for more general theological reflection in the present. Jerome’s exegetical procedure enables him to blunt the edge of the fear and disgust the text provokes, since properly understood it is not about bloody corpses but theological arguments. Jerome, Augustine and Greenhill do find real enemies lurking within their exegesis, be they heretics or cavaliers, but their exegesis is not limited to a point-​for-​point decoding of the text: Gog is not Arius or King Charles, but something bigger and more threatening. We are no longer talking about a single dramatic intervention in political history, but an ongoing battle between truth and heresy, tyranny and freedom, good and evil. The text is no longer a political cipher, but rather a theological guide to reflection on current affairs. The third, mythologizing trajectory bears comparison with the other two. The political is, of course, unavoidable. In its own Byzantine context, Pseudo-​Methodius predicts the vindication of the Roman Empire in the face of the growing Arab Muslim threat. It shares an emphasis on geography with the first trajectory, although there is a significant difference in the way it uses space. The first trajectory locates Gog “just there,” as part of the known world of rulers and nations. By contrast, Pseudo-​Methodius and the medieval mapmakers locate Gog “a long way over there” at the very edge of the known world. Like Jerome and Augustine, this trajectory is also more concerned with a great cosmic struggle between good and evil, where Gog and Magog represent Satan’s last throw of the dice. But where it differs most strongly from the previous trajectories is the cavalier way it treats the text of scripture. Rather than decoding biblical language or using it to

344   Andrew Mein construct a political theology, it re-​encodes the biblical material in a new apocalyptic vision. The idea of Gog as ultimate enemy remains as a fixed point, and it retains something of the periodization of Ezekiel’s text, but the details of the biblical account can be half-​remembered, brutally reshaped, or even fundamentally reversed. If anything, it increases rather than defuses the shock and disgust-​value of the oracle, as carrion-​ eating birds and beasts are replaced by unclean monstrosities, who drink blood and boil babies. Here is that medieval anxiety that Garstad described writ large and clear, and as Marjorie Reeves declares, a “sense that any elements of the stable order must disintegrate at the approach of the End” (1984, 43). The result seems less nakedly political than the first trajectory. Especially in its later receptions and transformations, it works at a broader cultural level, setting up a horrific alternative to Western Christian values with its cannibal giants hidden behind Alexander’s gate. In closing, it may be helpful to consider Brennan Breed’s distinction between “readings” and “transmutations”—​as he describes it “between readings that play by rules and readings that play fast and loose” (2014, 133). Biblical scholars tend to be much more comfortable with the former then the latter, but it seems to me that we need to expand our horizons, if we are to do justice to the manifold forms in which Jews and Christians have engaged with scripture down the centuries.

Notes 1. It is possible that this was not the original order of the text. The earliest Greek manuscript of Ezekiel, papyrus 967, orders the chapters differently. For discussion see Mackie, this volume. 2. My translation. 3. It is likely that the author was David Pae, a Scottish novelist and magazine editor (Reisenauer 2015). 4. My translation. 5. Although Trapp does not mention this, his identification of the two final enemies is dependent on Jerome’s etymological allegories: Magog is the “uncovered” open enemy of Christendom, the Turk, while Gog is the “covered” or hidden enemy of the Protestant Church, the pope. 6. I am quoting here from Garstad’s translation of the Greek version of Pseudo-​Methodius, which makes the Ezekiel connection more explicit than in the original Syriac. For an English translation of the Syriac see Alexander 1985, 36–​51.

Bibliography Alexander, Paul J. The Byzantine Apocalyptic Tradition. Edited by Dorothy de F. Abrahamse. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985. Anderson, Andrew Runni. Alexander’s Gate, Gog and Magog, and the Inclosed Nations. Cambridge, MA: Medieval Academy of America, 1932. Augustine. City of God. Translated by Henry Bettenson. Penguin Classics. London: Penguin, 1984.

Ezekiel in Christian Interpretation    345 Block, Daniel I. The Book of Ezekiel: Chapters 25-​48. New International Commentary on the Old Testament. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998. Bøe, Sverre. Gog and Magog: Ezekiel 38–​39 as Pre-​Text for Revelation 19,17-​21 and 20,7-​ 10. Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2/​ 135. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001. Boyer, Paul S. When Time Shall Be No More: Prophecy Belief in Modern American Culture. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1992. Breed, Brennan W. Nomadic Text: A Theory of Biblical Reception History. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2014. Carvalho, Corrine L. “The God That Gog Creates: Drop the Stories and Feel the Feelings.” In The God Ezekiel Creates, edited by Paul M. Joyce and Dalit Rom-​Shiloni, 107–​131. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies, 607. London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2016. Chamberlain, William. The National Restoration and Conversion of the Twelve Tribes of Israel. London: Wertheim and Macintosh, 1854. Collins, John J. “Towards the Morphology of a Genre: Introduction.” Semeia 14 (1979): 1–​29. Cook, Stephen L. Prophecy and Apocalypticism: The Postexilic Social Setting. Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995. Cook, Stephen L. Ezekiel 38–48: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. Anchor Yale Bible 22B. New Haven: Yale, 2018. Donzel, E. J. van, and Andrea Schmidt. Gog and Magog in Early Eastern Christian and Islamic Sources. Brill’s Inner Asian Library 22. Leiden: Brill, 2010. Figes, Orlando. Crimea: The Last Crusade. London: Allen Lane, 2010. Garstad, Benjamin, ed. and trans. Apocalypse and an Alexandrian World Chronicle. Dumbarton Oaks Medieval Library. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2012. Gow, Andrew. “Gog and Magog on Mappaemundi and Early Printed World Maps: Orientalizing Ethnography in the Apocalyptic Tradition.” Journal of Early Modern History 2, no. 1 (1998): 61–​88. Greenhill, William. An Exposition of Ezekiel. Edinburgh: Banner of Truth Trust, 1994. Greisiger, Lutz. 2016. “Opening the Gates of the North in 627: War, Anti-​Byzantine Sentiment and Apocalyptic Expectancy in the Near East Prior to the Arab Invasion.” In Peoples of the Apocalypse: Eschatological Beliefs and Political Scenarios, edited by Wolfram Brandes, Felicitas Schmieder, and Rebekka Voß, 63–​79. Millennium-​Studien/​Millennium Studies. Berlin: De Gruyter. Hill, Christopher. The English Bible and the Seventeenth-​Century Revolution. London: Allen Lane, 1993. Humphries, Mark. “ ‘Gog is the Goth’: Biblical Barbarians in Ambrose of Milan’s De Fide.” In Unclassical Traditions, volume 1: Alternatives to the Classical Past in Late Antiquity, edited by C. Kelly, R. Flower, and M. S. Williams, 44–​57. Cambridge Classical Journal Supplement 34. Groningen: Barkhuis, 2010. Jerome. S. Hieronymi Presbyteri Opera. Pars I, 4 Opera Exegetica. Commentariorum in Hiezechielem Libri XIV. Corpus Christianorum. Turnholt: Brepols, 1964. Kovacs, Judith, and Christopher Rowland. Revelation. Blackwell Bible Commentaries. Oxford: Blackwell, 2013. Lee, Lydia. “The Enemies Within: Gog of Magog in Ezekiel 38-​39.” Harvard Theological Studies 73, no. 3 (2017): 1–​7. Lindsey, Hal. The Late Great Planet Earth. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1970.

346   Andrew Mein Magdalino, Paul, and Robert S. Nelson. “Introduction.” In The Old Testament in Byzantium, edited by Paul Magdalino and Robert S. Nelson, 1–​38. Dumbarton Oaks Byzantine Symposia and Colloquia. Washington DC: Dumbarton Oaks, 2010, Mein, Andrew. “The Armies of Gog, the Merchants of Tarshish, and the British Empire.” In In the Name of God: The Bible in the Colonial Discourse of Empire, edited by C. L. Crouch and Jonathan Stökl, 133–​148. Biblical Interpretation 126. Brill, 2014. Pae, David. The Coming Struggle Among the Nations of the Earth: Or, the Political Events of the Next Fifteen Years: Described in Accordance with Prophecies in Ezekiel, Daniel, and the Apocalypse; Shewing Also the Important Position Britain Will Occupy at the End of the Awful Conflict. London: Houlston & Stoneman, 1853a. Pae, David. The Mission and Destiny of Russia, as Delineated in Scripture Prophecy, by the Author of “The Coming Struggle”. London: Houlston & Stoneman, 1853b. Railton, Nicholas M. “Gog and Magog: The History of a Symbol.” Evangelical Quarterly 75, no. 1 (2003): 23–​44. Reeves, Marjorie. “The Development of Apocalyptic Thought: Medieval Attitudes.” In The Apocalypse in English Renaissance Thought and Literature: Patterns, Antecedents and Repercussions, edited by C. A. Patrides and Joseph Wittreich, 40–​72. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1984. Reisenauer, Eric. “Armageddon at Sebastopol: The Crimean War and Biblical Prophecy in mid-​ Victorian Britain.” In “Perplext in Faith”: Essays on Victorian Beliefs and Doubts, edited by Alisa Clapp-​Intyre and Julie Melnyk, 39–​74. Cambridge: Cambridge Scholars, 2015. Theodoret of Cyrus. Commentaries on the Prophets, Volume Two: Commentary on the Prophet Ezekiel. Translated by Robert C. Hill. Brookline, MA: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 2006. Tooman, William A. Gog of Magog: Reuse of Scripture and Compositional Technique in Ezekiel 38-​39. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 2/​52. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezekiel 2: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 25-​48. Hermeneia. Translated by Ronald E. Clements. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983.

Chapter 18

Pastoral Appropriat i ons of Ezek i e l Steven Tuell

The very idea of a pastoral approach to Ezekiel may seem odd (not unlike the book itself), if not perverse. The book of Ezekiel is brimful with violence, quite specifically violence against women (particularly in chs. 16 and 23, which personify Jerusalem and Samaria as abused wives), so it is no wonder that many have found little here of value—​ some feminist readers going so far as to characterize these passages as pornography.1 Ezekiel’s message seems dismissive and intolerant toward those outside the prophet’s social and ideological circles (e.g., his condemnation of those left in the land after the exile, 33:23–​29); it was used later in Israel’s history to justify such intolerance.2 Furthermore, at a time when people of faith are recognizing more and more our need to preserve and protect our natural world, Ezekiel appreciates the world only in terms of its utility for human communities.3 What possible pastoral use could be made of such stuff? Yet this is also a book of wonder, strange beauty, and abiding influence. Ezekiel’s outlandish opening vision of the glory of the Lord (1:4–​28) has moved generations of readers, from the Merkavah mystics of early Judaism4 to the composers of African-​ American spiritual song. While it is difficult to find quotes from Ezekiel (unlike, say, from Isaiah) in the Christian New Testament, the influence of this book there is nonetheless apparent. This includes the Gospel image of the Good Shepherd (compare Ezekiel 34 with Matt 9:36 //​Mark 6:34; Matt 18:12–​14; Luke 15:1–​7; John 10), and in Revelation’s visions of the river of life (compare Ezek 47:1–​12 and Rev 22:1–​5) and the new Jerusalem (compare Ezek 48:30–​35 and Rev 21:9–​27). Indeed, Ezekiel’s vision of the dry bones and its promise for Israel’s resurrection (37:1–​14) became the foundation for Jewish and Christian thought about the afterlife.5 In Christian liturgies, it is common for a lector to close a reading from Scripture by saying, “The word of God for the people of God,” to which the congregation responds, “Thanks be to God.” Despite its strangeness—​indeed, perhaps even because of its strangeness—​Ezekiel is a part of the canon of the church and the synagogue. What might it mean, then, to see such a text as “the word of God for the people of God”?

348   Steven Tuell

1.  The Grace in Ezekiel’s Theology At first glance, the theology of Ezekiel seems particularly inimical to pastoral concerns. Rev. Dr. Ron Hoellein, a retired United Methodist pastor in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, writes, “As a pastor who did pastoral care the issues I would see most often had to do with existential dread and anxiety, disbelief that God could love a sinner like me, and anger at God for my circumstance.”6 Yet Ezekiel never states that the Lord loves, or even has compassion for, Israel (the sole exception, 39:25, comes from perhaps the latest-​ dated portion of the book—​the Gog apocalypse in chs. 38–​39).7 As is well known, the predominant motif in Ezekiel is the Erkenntnisformel; some 72 times, God acts, whether in judgment or salvation, so “that they might know that I am the Lord”).8 Such insistent repetition demonstrates that in this book, the Lord acts not for Israel’s sake, but rather for the sake of the Lord’s own honor and name: that is, God does what God does because of who God is, period. Nonetheless, “the radical God-​centeredness of Ezekiel” is in truth profoundly pastoral.9 For this prophet, the history of God’s people has demonstrated that, if hope depends upon our faithfulness, we have no hope at all (cf. Ezekiel 20). The only way that Israel could have any hope for the future is if Israel’s deliverance depended upon God’s character—​not upon Israel’s worthiness, or even upon Israel’s repentance. Therefore, Ezekiel baldly states, “Thus says the Lord God: It is not for your sake, O house of Israel, that I am about to act, but for the sake of my holy name, which you have profaned among the nations to which you came” (Ezek 36:22).10 As Paul Joyce observes, “There is indeed to be a future, but it is undeserved and depends solely on Yhwh.”11 The effect, in the end, is not unlike the Christian doctrine of sola gratia: salvation comes as a gift, given through God’s grace alone. If Ron Hoellein’s experience of “the most frequent pastoral care issues” is typical (and this researcher’s own experience, as well as conversations with many pastors over the years, suggests that it is), then Ezekiel’s theology—​freeing the believer from guilt, fear, and anxiety—​is indeed good news (the literal meaning of “gospel”).12 The pastoral thrust of Ezekiel’s theology is perhaps nowhere clearer than in Ezekiel 18, a sermon on the theme of moral accountability, which concludes with one of the most resounding calls to repentance in Scripture: Repent and turn from all your transgressions; otherwise iniquity will be your ruin. Cast away from you all the transgressions that you have committed against me, and get yourselves a new heart and a new spirit! Why will you die, O house of Israel? For I have no pleasure in the death of anyone, says the Lord God. Turn, then, and live. (18:30–​32)

Although Gerhard von Rad famously referred to this chapter as “a theological excursus” rather than a sermon,13 Ezekiel does not actually present a closely reasoned, systematic theology here. Indeed, he leaves unresolved the conflict between his vehement

Pastoral Appropriations of Ezekiel    349 insistence on individual responsibility (“it is only the person who sins that shall die,” 18:4) and corporate responsibility (expressed particularly in the decalogue, Exod 20:5–​6 //​Deut 5:9–​10) demonstrates—​not to mention the reality of innocent suffering, which this passage ignores. It is far better to say with Donald Gowan that Ezekiel “works as a pastor and responds to the particular problem raised by his people at that time, with an answer which he hopes will meet that specific need.”14 The specific need that this sermon addresses emerged from the very success of Ezekiel’s message of judgment: since God has chosen—​for the sake of God’s own justice and honor—​to destroy Jerusalem and to condemn this generation to exile, there is nothing that the prophet’s audience can do but surrender fatalistically to their grim circumstance (18:2). To counter this hopelessness, Ezekiel focuses, as Michael Fishbane observes, on the significance of “each and every separate action” (cf. 18:21–​24), in order to overcome the “motivational indifference induced by the presumption that if one has transgressed he is forever guilty.”15 Like all good sermons, Ezekiel 18 responds to the concrete circumstance of the preacher’s community with a message of challenge and hope. Although Ezekiel’s community is powerless either to save doomed Jerusalem, or to reverse their corporate disaster, God still calls upon all individuals (in this and in every generation) to take responsibility for their own present state, to respond to God’s call with commitment and passion—​and so to live.16 Ezekiel’s purpose, as Katheryn Pfisterer Darr writes, is “to provide the people with a means to survive their present circumstances: repent of your past transgressions and leave them behind; get yourselves a new heart and a new spirit, and then set to the task of doing righteousness in every aspect of your lives.”17 The “new heart and new spirit” (18:31) were first introduced by Ezekiel in 11:19, where both the “one heart” (that is, singleness of mind and purpose; cf. 1 Chr 12:39; 2 Chr 30:12) and the “new spirit” are gifts from God, to be granted in Israel’s rebirth. Indeed, in what Daniel Block vividly calls a “heart transplant,” the Lord promises to “remove the heart of stone from their flesh, and give them a heart of flesh” (11:19).18 So, too, the late expansion of the book at 36:23b–​38 affirms not only that the new heart and new spirit are gifts of God, but also that the “new spirit” given to this people is God’s own Spirit—​filling them with God’s very life (vv. 26–​27).19 What, then, are we to make of 18:31, where God says, “get yourselves a new heart and a new spirit” (emphasis mine)? Is the new heart something that we must obtain after all—​ presumably through confession and repentance—​rather than a gift out of God’s grace? A tension certainly exists here, yet it is a tension inherent in the very nature of religious experience. Christian theologians as disparate as Reformer John Calvin and revivalist John Wesley affirm that God’s grace is prevenient: that is, before we can come to God, or even desire God’s presence, God comes to us—​empowering our response. So, too, for Ezekiel; as Paul Joyce observes, “divine initiative has enabled human response.”20 Perhaps more than any other witness in Scripture, Ezekiel wrestles with the problem of God’s presence.21 As the only prophet whose entire career is set outside of Palestine, Ezekiel was a refugee speaking to refugees. The attitude that he ascribes to the community back in Jerusalem was almost certainly shared by Ezekiel’s exilic audience, and

350   Steven Tuell initially by the prophet/​priest himself. Since Jerusalem’s temple was the place of God’s particular presence, or ‫ ּ ָכבו ֹד‬ḵāḇôḏ “glory,”22 the exiles in distant Babylon had by definition “gone far from the Lord” (11:15). Yet, in Ezekiel’s first vision (chs. 1–​3), the Lord’s glory is manifest in the unclean environs of a refugee camp by an irrigation ditch in Babylon! No wonder the heavens are ripped open in this vision: as Samuel Terrien observes, Ezekiel “could not expect that Yahweh would manifest his presence in a remote and totally alien land except through some shattering of the cosmic order.”23 Ezekiel’s famous wheels (1:15–​21) serve symbolically to explain this unexpected mobility: God’s throne is not a chair, but a chariot. God, who is free to become manifest in power and fullness anywhere, has chosen to be present with the refugees in Tel Aviv, and to share their exile. This message is underscored in Ezekiel’s second vision of the Lord’s glory (chs. 8–​ 11), where the prophet learns that, far from abandoning the exiles to their fate, God has specifically abandoned Jerusalem (9:3; 10:4, 18–​19; 11:22–​23), while declaring concerning the exiles, “I will be for them a sanctuary in small measure [‫ ִמ ְקדָּ ׁש ְמעַ ט‬miqdāš məˁaṭ] in the lands where they have gone” (11:16, my translation24). That is, inasmuch as the Lord’s presence is experienced anywhere, henceforth it will be among the exiles. The prophet’s final vision of the Lord’s glory (chs. 40–​48) confirms this. Twenty-​five years after the prophet himself was exiled, and fourteen years after Jerusalem with its temple was destroyed, Ezekiel is taken to the pure, perfect, and pristine shrine atop the heavenly Zion (chs. 40–​42).25 Once the divine glory has occupied this shrine (43:1–​5), the Lord declares, “Mortal, this is the place of my throne and the place for the soles of my feet, where I will reside among the people of Israel forever” (43:7a). The point and goal of these three intertwined visions of the Lord’s glory is the promise of God’s presence with the people, even in suffering and exile. Christian readers are bound to think of Matthew’s identification of Jesus as “ ‘Emmanuel,’ which means, ‘God is with us’ ” (Matt 1:23), and of the risen Jesus’ promise at that Gospel’s end, “And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matt 28:20).

2.  Surviving Trauma Pastoral appropriation of this prophetic book must relate not only to broad issues of theology, but also specifically to concrete issues in pastoral care. Consider first the issue of mental illness and trauma in this work. At least since Klostermann’s 1877 study,26 many readers of Ezekiel have found in the odd features of this book evidence that the prophet suffered from a mental illness.27 Under normal circumstances, an inability to speak (3:22–​27), a “paralysis” (4:4–​8), and a refusal to mourn one’s spouse’s sudden death (24:15–​27) may seem to be the surface signs of a disturbed psyche. However, within the context of this prophetic book, they are better understood as elements in an intricate literary structure than as aspects of Ezekiel’s psychology.28 Still, Daniel

Pastoral Appropriations of Ezekiel    351 Smith-​Christopher in particular has persuasively argued that this book is the product of severe trauma: What is important here is simply that a reading of refugee studies, disaster studies, and the assumption of trauma transforms our image of Ezekiel from merely a neurotic psychopath (Halperin) or a merely creative writer (Zimmerli) to one whose imagery and prose can be taken as indications of the experience of exile. . . . To read these texts without some sense of the trauma of exile is tantamount to blaming the victims at the very least, and perhaps grossly misunderstanding much of the power of the text in its social context.29

Such a reading, on the one hand, results in a more sympathetic approach to the prophet. The horrors that Ezekiel describes are not inventions: he has personally experienced forced exile (1:1); he has seen at first hand unburied corpses on battlefields (37:1–​2) and women raped and mutilated (23:25).30 On the other hand, reading Ezekiel as trauma literature may offer pastoral insights into the nature of trauma and post-​traumatic stress. In particular, the survival strategy of self-​blame—​evident everywhere in Ezekiel—​is a common response to trauma, with which anyone in pastoral ministry will certainly need to deal. As Smith-​Christopher notes from his work with refugee communities, self-​blame can be an effective strategy when used collectively. By taking responsibility for the tragedy of Jerusalem’s fall, Ezekiel and his community “creatively reinterpret their defeat, and ‘dis-​empower’ their conquerors.”31 Self-​blame is destructive to individuals, however—​particularly survivors of abuse and harassment. Further, blaming the victim for somehow causing her abuse only enables abusers, and it perpetuates their offenses. As I write this, the #MeToo movement has empowered women across the country to confront their abusers, which has resulted in numerous high-​profile persons being at last held accountable for their actions. But just as self-​blame is inappropriate, so blaming the victim is never appropriate. Suffering may indeed force us to acknowledge our inadequacy and vulnerability—​and lead us to confession, new life, and deepened faith. However, we can have this insight only into our own pain; we cannot force it onto someone else. The only legitimate pastoral response to the suffering of others is compassion.

3.  Women in Ezekiel Of course, Ezekiel himself appears to be prone to victim-​blaming, particularly in ­chapters 16 and 23, where Jerusalem and Samaria personified as women suffer horrific abuse that is blamed on their own infidelity. Ezekiel did not invent this imagery: the personification of a city or nation as a woman or a goddess—​understood to be the consort of its people’s patron god—​was fairly common in the ancient Near East.32

352   Steven Tuell Elsewhere in Scripture, a city (usually Jerusalem), or the people of God themselves, can be depicted as a woman wedded to the Lord (e.g., Hos 2:16–​18; Jer 2:1–​2; cf. the New Testament portrayal of the church as the bride of Christ in Eph 5:22–​32; Rev 19:6–​ 9; 21:9–​27). Ezekiel uses this metaphor negatively, not positively, following the pattern of the prophets generally. By this symbolic reasoning, if Israel is wedded to the Lord, then both religious faithlessness through idolatry and political faithlessness through foreign alliances become adultery (e.g., Hos 2:4–​14, Jer 3:1–​10; 31:32, as well as Ezekiel 16 and 23).33 Also, as Ezek 16:36–​37 and 23:10, 29 brutally demonstrate, if the city or the nation is a woman, then its conquest becomes a rape (cf. Isa 47:3; Lam 1:8; Hos 2:9–​10; Nahum 3:4–​7). That being said, Ezekiel’s words are in no way intended literally—​either as abstract theology (describing what God is like) or to describe actual human relationships. This claim makes these chapters’ imagery no less obscene or offensive. Indeed, it seems likely that Ezekiel was intentionally aiming to offend his audience. I would argue that Ezekiel 16 and 23 are not pornography (as is sometimes claimed). For one thing, as Smith-​ Christopher observes, we have no reason to think that Ezekiel’s audience was predominately or exclusively male.34 More to the point, however, Ezekiel does not permit his readers to objectify the women in these parables. Rather than holding these women pruriently at a distance, Ezekiel’s audience is compelled to identify with them: this, he says, is us; their story is ours. As I have stated elsewhere, through “poetry and metaphor, Ezekiel brings his readers to a visceral experience of the perverse faithlessness of Jerusalem, and the thwarted passion of God.”35 In Ezek 13:17–​23, we find the prophet addressing a female audience. (This is the second of two oracles condemning Jerusalem’s prophets; the first one concerned the men, vv. 1–​16.) His critique of these women is fascinating, in large part because of what he does not say. Although he does refer to the women as diviners (v. 23), Ezekiel does not condemn divination as some biblical voices do.36 After all, the care, keeping, and use of the sacred lot—​the Urim and Thummin—​are everywhere priestly responsibilities (e.g., Exod 28:30; Num 27:21; Deut 33:8; 1 Sam 14:41), so Ezekiel the priest was unlikely to have opposed divination per se. While every mention of divination in the book of Ezekiel involves false divination (cf. 12:24; 13:6, 7, 9, 23; 21:29; 22:28; note that 21:21–​23 describes Babylonian divination), in each case Ezekiel condemns both false divination and false visions. As Ezekiel the visionary certainly does not regard visions as such to be false, it is difficult to argue that he also rejects divination. Others, noting that some of the odd expressions in this passage appear in Mesopotamian magical texts dealing with witchcraft and exorcism,37 propose that Ezekiel condemns these women as witches.38 However, whatever the actual purpose of their actions may have been, Ezekiel interprets the women’s activities as related to “visions” and “divination” (13:23) rather than to magic. He does not condemn them as witches.39 Intriguingly, Ezekiel treats both groups of Jerusalem prophets in exactly the same way.40 He condemns the female prophets, not for being diviners, or witches, or indeed for being women, but for being liars. Both the male and the female prophets of Jerusalem

Pastoral Appropriations of Ezekiel    353 “prophesy out of their own imagination” (13:2,17). The women are condemned for “putting to death persons who should not die and keeping alive persons who should not live,” not through witchcraft, but “by your lies to my people, who listen to lies” (13:19)—​just like the men, whose false oracles of peace led to Jerusalem’s destruction (13:10–​16). In short, Ezekiel raises no objection to women serving as prophets—​after all, the Hebrew Bible identifies other female prophets, most notably Miriam (Exod 15:20), Deborah (Judg 4:4), and Huldah (2 Kgs 22:14). Surprisingly, then, this passage may actually affirm women in ministry!

4.  Ezekiel in the Revised Common Lectionary To consider the use of Ezekiel in Christian liturgy and proclamation, we will turn to the Revised Common Lectionary.41 In this ecumenical resource, three passages from Ezekiel appear as preferred readings: all from the latter portion of this book, dealing with hope and restoration (chs. 34–​48). First, Ezekiel 34:11–​16, 20–​24 is read in Year A, on the last Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 29 [34]), called “Christ the King,” or “Reign of Christ.” As this passage deals with the Lord as Israel’s shepherd, a royal image in the ancient world, it is certainly a fitting text for its setting. The Gospel for this day (Matt 25:31–​ 46) opens with the Son of Man sitting in judgment: “All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats” (Matt 25:32). As this is a likely allusion to Ezek 34:17, the preacher would do well to ignore the lectionary’s excision of 34:17–​19 and include them in the exegesis. Note, too, that the eschatological setting of the Gospel resonates with the “day of the Lord” imagery in 34:12.42 As for the other two passages that are commended as a preferred lection, both are appointed each year for the Paschal Vigil—​the late night/​early morning service that is the first service of Easter. One is 36:24–​28 (a theological reflection on Israel’s restoration, particularly the promised “new heart and new spirit,” from [as was discussed above] Ezekiel’s editors), and the other is 37:1–​14 (the famous vision of the dry bones). Usually, the Vigil is not a preaching service; however, the preacher may want to use Ezek 37:1–​14, together with the Gospel for any given year, on Easter Day. While Ezekiel’s vision is a metaphor for Israel’s exile and restoration rather than a promise of personal resurrection, it is clear that from early on, Jewish and Christian readers alike have read this passage as offering hope for life beyond death. Elsewhere, I have written: In its context, the vision of the dry bones expresses the exile and restoration of Israel. However, resurrection is too vast, too deep, too powerful an image to be restricted to that single, historical application. Indeed, Ezekiel’s vision opens up into the mystery of God’s intention for all reality.43

354   Steven Tuell As might be expected of this most familiar passage from the book of Ezekiel, 37:1–​14 appears in other contexts in the lectionary, as well. On the fifth Sunday of Lent in Year A, this is the Old Testament reading; the Gospel for the day is the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead (John 11:1–​45). On Pentecost in Year B, 37:1–​14 may be used as the first reading, with Acts 2:1–​21 (the account of the descent of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost) as the second. In that connection, the use of ַ‫ רוּח‬rûaḥ (“wind, breath, spirit”) in all its senses (37:5, 9–​10, 14) serves as a powerful concomitant to the Greek pnoe (“wind,” Acts 2:2) and pneuma (“Spirit,” Acts 2:4, 17–​18) in our thinking through fresh ways to talk about the Spirit. Apart from these assigned passages, four other readings from Ezekiel serve as alternate readings from the Hebrew Bible, for select Sundays. (Since the typical pattern in the lectionary is for the Hebrew Bible readings to move continuously through selected books, the alternate readings are chosen specifically to complement the Gospel reading for the day.44) These alternate readings, as it happens, all come from the book’s first major section, concerning the prophet’s message of judgment (1–​33). Ezekiel 2:1–​5, from the prophet’s call (chs. 1–​3), warns the prophet about the “impudent and stubborn” people to whom he has been sent; but it assures him, “Whether they hear or refuse to hear (for they are a rebellious house), they shall know that there has been a prophet among them” (2:5). This passage may be read in Year B in the Season after Pentecost, Proper 9 (14), to complement Mark 6:1–​13, dealing with Jesus’ cold reception at his hometown synagogue. The preacher should tread carefully, as this pairing may devolve into an anti-​Semitic condemnation of insensitive Jews who could not recognize either the prophet or the Messiah. Rather than pointing an accusatory finger outward and backward, it would be better to focus on Ezekiel’s, and Jesus’s, refusal to allow rejection and disappointment to hinder their mission—​a counsel that Jesus also gives to those he sends out (Mark 6:10–​11). Ezekiel 17:22–​24 may also be read in Year B in the Season after Pentecost, Proper 6 (11). In its context, this short passage serves to interpret and expand one aspect of the allegory of the eagles and the vine in 17:1–​21: namely, the sprig of the cedar taken away to “a land of trade . . . a city of merchants” (17:4). Already, it was clear that the sprig represented King Jehoiachin, carried off to Babylon (2 Kgs 24:12–​16), by whose years of exile Ezekiel dates his oracles (Ezek 1:2). The brief allegory in 17:22–​24 prophesies the fate of Jehoiachin and the other exiles, conveying the same message as the entirety of Ezekiel’s prophecy: Israel’s future will spring from the community in exile, not from Jerusalem.45 The lectionary places these verses in a new context, however, complementing Mark 4:26–​34. This is an appropriate pairing: when Jesus describes the kingdom of God as a mustard plant “which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade” (Mark 4:31–​ 32; cf. Matt 13:31–​32 //​Luke 13:18–​19), he alludes to Ezek 17:23. Indeed, both parables in the Gospel passage, like the parable in Ezekiel, deal with little becoming much via God’s blessing. Ronald Hals has called this the theme of God as the “Great Reverser:”46

Pastoral Appropriations of Ezekiel    355 I bring low the high tree, I make high the low tree; I dry up the green tree and make the dry tree flourish. I the Lord have spoken; I will accomplish it. (17:24)

Ezekiel 18:1–​4, 25–​32 may be read in Year A in the Season after Pentecost, Proper 21 (26). As we discussed above, these verses represent the opening and the close of Ezekiel’s sermon on moral accountability. The lectionary suggests reading this selection with Matt 21:23–​32, dealing with Jesus’ authority—​like that of John the Baptist—​as derived directly from God. Here, the logic of the proposed pairing is not so apparent, but perhaps one point of connection is Jesus’ parable of the obedient and disobedient sons (21:28–​30). The prophet’s message is that the future is not inevitably determined by the past. Even the worst can repent, and obey; even the best can fail, and fall. Once more, the preacher should be careful not to fall into a simplistic triumphalism here: remember that all of the persons in Matthew’s pericope—​the tax collectors and prostitutes as well as the elders and chief priests—​are Jews. The point is the surprising grace and generosity of God: “For I have no pleasure in the death of anyone, says the Lord God. Turn, then, and live.” (Ezek 18:32) Ezekiel 33:7–​11, the alternate Old Testament reading for the Season after Pentecost, Year A, Proper 18 (23), recapitulates themes and images from earlier in the book. Ezekiel 33:7–​9 repeats Ezekiel’s role as a watchman from his call narrative (33:7–​9; cf. 3:16–​21), while 33:10–​11 draws freely on the sermon in Ezekiel 18. So, in 33:11, “As I live, says the Lord God” quotes from 18:3, while both the denial that God takes any pleasure in death and the plea “why will you die, O house of Israel?” come from 18:32. Further, the despair and fatalism to which Ezekiel 18 alludes here finds direct expression: “Our transgressions and our sins weigh upon us, and we waste away because of them; how then can we live?” (33:10). This passage has been selected to complement Matt 18:15–​20, dealing with church discipline: indeed, the word ekklesia (“church”) appears in the Gospels only in Matthew (16:18 and 18:17). The idea of responsibility to the community of faith may be the connecting theme. Ezekiel is held accountable for giving his warning, whether he is heeded or not (33:7–​9), while in Matthew disputes within the body must be addressed, rather than being left to fester (18:15–​17). The motivation for these difficult conversations—​left unspoken both in Ezekiel and in Matthew—​finds expression in the epistle for this day: “Owe no one anything, except to love one another” (Rom 13:8). Perhaps in the end, these passages about hard conversations address the reason that Ezekiel deserves attention in our communities of learning and of faith. To be sure, this is a difficult book. However, in part because of its difficulties, the book of Ezekiel prompts us to view God and ourselves in fresh ways. Sometimes, it is the difficult conversations that prove the most rewarding.

356   Steven Tuell

Notes 1. E.g., Fokkelien Van Dijk-​Hemmes, “The Metaphorization of Woman in Prophetic Speech: An Analysis of Ezekiel 23,” in On Gendering Texts: Female and Male Voices in the Hebrew Bible, ed. Athalya Brenner and Fokkelien van Dijk-​Hemmes (Biblical Interpretation 1; New York: Brill, 1993), 169–​170; cf. also Joseph Blenkinsopp, Ezekiel (Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching; Louisville: John Knox, 1990), 76. For other feminist/​womanist perspectives, cf. Julia Galambush, Jerusalem in the Book of Ezekiel: The City as Yahweh’s Wife (Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series 130; Atlanta: Scholars, 1992), Corrine L. Patton, “ ‘Should Our Sister Be Treated Like a Whore?’ A Response to Feminist Critiques of Ezekiel 23,” in The Book of Ezekiel: Theological and Anthropological Perspectives, ed. Margaret S. Odell and John T. Strong (Society of Biblical Literature Symposium Series; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000), 221–​238; Amy Kalmanofsky, “Ezekiel and Gender,” this volume. 2. Dalit Rom-​Shiloni, “Ezekiel as the Voice of the Exiles and Constructor of Exilic Ideology,” Hebrew Union College Annual 76 (2005): 11. Cf. Nur Masalha, “60 Years after the Nakba: Historical Truth, Collective Memory and Ethical Obligations,” Kyoto Bulletin of Islamic Area Studies 3–​1 (2009): 37–​88. 3. E.g., Norman Habel: “When reading from the perspective of Earth, both land and life seem to be cheap in Ezekiel; Earth has no obvious intrinsic worth as a structural component in the hierarchy of Ezekiel’s cosmos”; “The Silence of the Lands: The Ecojustice Implications of Ezekiel’s Judgment Oracles,” in Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World: Wrestling with a Tiered Reality, ed. Stephen L. Cook and Corrine L. Patton (Society of Biblical Literature Symposium Series 20; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2005), 133. See also in that same volume Keith Carley, “From Harshness to Hope: The Implications for Earth of Hierarchy in Ezekiel,” 109–​126. 4. Martha Himmelfarb, “From Prophecy to Apocalypse: The Book of the Watchers and Tours of Heaven,” in Jewish Spirituality: From the Bible through the Middle Ages, ed. Arthur Green (World Spirituality 13; New York: Crossroad, 1988), 149–​150. 5. Steven Tuell, “True Metaphor: Insights into Reading Scripture from the Rabbis,” Theology Today 67 (2011): 467–​475. 6. Personal correspondence, January 10, 2018. Dr. Hoellein was one of a group of pastors who were kind enough to read, and respond to, this piece in advance. 7. Steven Tuell, Ezekiel (Understanding the Bible Commentary; Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2012), 272–​273; Steven Tuell, “The Book of Ezekiel as a Work In Progress: Indications from the Lament Over the King of Tyre (28:11–​19),” in Ezekiel: Current Debates and Future Directions, ed. William A Tooman and Penelope Barter (Forschungen zum Alten Testament; Tübingen: Mohr-​Siebeck, 2017), 68. 8. Walther Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 1–​24, trans. Ronald E. Clements (Heremeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979), 38; cf. also I Am Yahweh, ed. Walter Brueggemann and trans. Douglas W. Stott (Atlanta: John Knox, 1982). 9. Paul Joyce, Ezekiel: A Commentary (The Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 482; London: T&T Clark, 2007), 22. 10. Unless otherwise noted, all biblical renderings are from the NRSV translation. 11. Joyce, Ezekiel, 26. 12. Cf. Tuell, “True Metaphor.”

Pastoral Appropriations of Ezekiel    357 13. Old Testament Theology, trans. D. M. G. Stalker (New York: Harper & Row, 1965), 2:264. 14. Ezekiel, Knox Preaching Guides (Atlanta: John Knox, 1985), 75. 15. Michael Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel (Oxford: Clarendon, 1985), 338. 16. Cf. Andrew Mein’s assessment that in the exilic situation, “only moral actions on a more individual, domestic scale are possible.” Ezekiel and the Ethics of Exile (Oxford Theology and Religion Monographs; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 214. 17. Katheryn Pfisterer Darr, “Proverb Performance and Trans-​Generational Retribution in Ezekiel 18,” in Ezekiel's Hierarchical World, eds. Cook and Patton, 222–​223. 18. Daniel Block, The Book of Ezekiel: Chapters 1–​24 (New International Commentary on the Old Testament; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997), 352–​353. 19. The reasons for questioning the placement of this material in the text of Ezekiel involve a broad convergence of evidence both text-​critical and literary. The text-​critical evidence includes: absence not only from P967 (the best evidence for the Old Greek text of Ezekiel) but also from the Latin Codex Wirceburgensis; and the suggestive coincidence of a Coptic-​Sahidic lectionary listing 36:16–​23a as a unit, ending the passage at the same point as P967. The literary evidence includes: the Septuagint of 36:23c–​38 is of a different character than the material proceeding and following; the Masoretic text of this passage contains an odd combination of unique expressions (e.g., ‫ מַ יִם ְטהו ִֹרים‬mayim ṭəhôrîm, “clean water,” in v. 25) and repetitions from earlier material in the book [cf. v. 38 and 34:31]). While the importance of this material in the final canonical shape of Ezekiel is clear, one might question whether this passage should be used in constructing the theology of the prophet himself. In this volume, cf. Timothy Mackie, “Text-​Critical Issues in Ezekiel.” 20. Divine Initiative and Human Response in Ezekiel (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 51; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1989), 128. 21. Kalinda Rose Stevenson sums up Ezekiel’s message in a single question: “Where is God in all this? The question, Where?, is the motivating question of the book.” The Vision of Transformation: The Territorial Rhetoric of Ezekiel 40–​48 (Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series 154; Atlanta: Scholars, 1996), 161. 22. Steven Tuell, “Divine Presence and Absence in Ezekiel’s Prophecy,” in Odell and Strong, Ezekiel, 97–​116. 23. Samuel Terrien, The Elusive Presence (Religious Perspectives 26; San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1978), 258. 24. Both the NRSV and the NIV render məˁaṭ as “for a little while.” While this is certainly a common usage for məˁaṭ elsewhere, in Ezekiel (cf. 5:3; 16:20, 47; 34:18) the term refers to a small thing or matter. Consider, too, that Ezekiel nowhere implies that the exile will be short. Targum Nevi’im understood this passage to refer to the synagogue—​an unlikely interpretation, but one that clearly understands the passage to refer to a small sanctuary, not to a brief period of time. The NJPS has “diminished sanctity.” However, the general rendering “sanctity” for miqdāš (“sanctuary”) is unprecedented; further, 11:16 represents not a concession to the “diminished sanctity” of the Lord in Babylon, but rather the supplanting of Jerusalem and its temple as the place of God’s presence. The KJV “a small sanctuary” captures the intent much better. 25. Steven Tuell, “Ezekiel 40–​42 as Verbal Icon,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 58 (1996): 649–​ 664; Paul M. Joyce, “Ezekiel 40–​42: The Earliest ‘Heavenly Ascent’ Narrative?,” in The Book of Ezekiel and Its Influence, ed. Henk Jan De Jonge and Johannes Tromp (Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 2007), 17–​42. Contra John T. Strong, “Grounding Ezekiel’s Heavenly Ascent:

358   Steven Tuell A Defense of Ezek 40–​48 as a Program for Restoration,” Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 26 (2012): 192–​211. 26. August Klostermann held that Ezekiel’s prophecy reflected a period of sickness (chs. 3–​24) and a time after his recovery (chs. 33–​48). “Ezekiel. Ein Beitrag zu besserer Würdigung seiner Person und seiner Schrift,” Theologische Studien und Kritiken 50 (1877): 391–​439; as cited by Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 17. 27. For example, Edwin C. Broome, Jr., “Ezekiel’s Abnormal Personality,” Journal of Biblical Literature 65 (1946): 291: “There can be no doubt that we are dealing with a true psychotic.” David J. Halperin, reading the book through a Freudian lens, finds in Ezekiel a pathological horror of women and sexuality; Seeking Ezekiel: Text and Psychology (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1993). Ronald E. Clements writes, “There are several indications in the book that Ezekiel suffered at times from severe nervous and physical disabilities.” Ezekiel (Westminster Bible Companion; Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1996), 19. 28. Steven Tuell, “Should Ezekiel Go To Rehab? The Method to Ezekiel’s ‘Madness,’ ” Perspectives in Religious Studies 36 (2009): 293–​301. In sum: Ezekiel’s muteness seems more theological than literal—​he cannot intercede for Jerusalem; cf. Jer 7:16. So Robert R. Wilson, “Prophecy in Crisis: The Call of Ezekiel,” in Interpreting the Prophets, ed. James L. Mays and Paul J. Achtemeier (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987), 168; and Block, Ezekiel, 151. This motif in 3:22–​27 recurs in 33:22 as part of a literary frame around chs. 1–​33. Ezekiel 4:4–​8 describes a prophetic sign act, not a pathological symptom, and it is more likely a literary sign than one actually performed. Similarly, Ezekiel is not unable to grieve for his wife (contra Halperin, Seeking Ezekiel, 179–​181); rather, he is forbidden to engage in the public rituals of mourning, as a sign act regarding Jerusalem’s fate. 29. Daniel L. Smith-​Christopher, A Biblical Theology of Exile (Overtures to Biblical Theology; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2002), 104. Cf. in this volume, Ruth Poser, “Ezekiel As Trauma Literature.” 30. Cf. Smith-​Christopher: “the images of violence, bloodshed, vengeance, and terror are not concoctions of Ezekiel’s normative theological reflection, but the realities within which he is living!” “Ezekiel in Abu Ghraib: Rereading Ezekiel 16:37–​39 in the Context of Imperial Conquest,” in Cook and Patton, Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World, 149. 31. “Abu Ghraib,” 157. 32. Cf. Aloysius Fitzgerald, “The Mythological Background for the Presentation of Jerusalem as a Queen and False Worship as Adultery in the OT,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 34 (1972): 406–​415; and Mark E. Biddle, “The Figure of Lady Jerusalem: Identification, Deification, and Personification of Cities in the Ancient Near East,” in The Biblical Canon in Comparative Perspective: Scripture in Context IV, ed. K. Lawson Younger, Jr., William W. Hallo, and Bernard F. Batto (Ancient Near Eastern Texts and Studies 11; Lewiston, NY: Mellen, 1991), 175–​179. 33. Fitzgerald, “Mythological Background,” 404–​405. 34. Smith-​Christopher, “Abu Ghraib,” 146. 35. Tuell, Ezekiel, 93. 36. Deut 18:10, 14 condemns divination, as do Josh 13:22; 1 Sam 15:23; and 2 Kgs 17:17 from the Deuteronomistic History. However, Gen 44:5 describes Joseph as a diviner; and the prophet Elisha engages in activities akin to divination (see 2 Kgs 13:18–​19). Isaiah mentions diviners among the people’s leaders (although he condemns foreign diviners, cf. Isa 2:6; 3:2).

Pastoral Appropriations of Ezekiel    359 37. Block, Ezekiel 1–​24, 412–​417. Nancy R. Bowen finds this language also in ancient Near Eastern rites that were meant to ensure a safe delivery in childbirth; “The Daughters of Your People: Female Prophets in Ezek 13:17–​23,” JBL 118 (1999): 421–​427. 38. Henry William Frederick Saggs, “ ‘External Souls’ in the Old Testament,” JSS 19 (1974): 8–​10; Katheryn Pfisterer Darr, “The Book of Ezekiel,” in The New Interpreters Bible, ed. Leander Keck (Nashville: Abingdon, 2001), 6:1203; Block, Ezekiel 1–​24, 416. 39. With Bowen, “Daughters of Your People,” 417–​433. 40. Cf. the comparison of the two oracles in Moshe Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20, Anchor Bible 22 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1983), 242. 41. The Consultation on Common Texts, The Revised Common Lectionary (Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 1992). 42. Tuell, Ezekiel, 238. 43. Tuell, “True Metaphor,” 473. 44. Consultation, Revised Common Lectionary, 17–​18. 45. Cf. Tuell, Ezekiel, 97–​101. 46. Ronald M. Hals, Ezekiel (Forms of the Old Testament Literature 19; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1989), 117; cf. also Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 367; Tuell, Ezekiel, 99–​101.

Bibliography Biddle, Mark E. “The Figure of Lady Jerusalem: Identification, Deification, and Personification of Cities in the Ancient Near East.” In The Biblical Canon in Comparative Perspective: Scripture in Context IV, edited by K. Lawson Younger, Jr., William W. Hallo, and Bernard F. Batto, 173–​94. Ancient Near Eastern Texts and Studies 11. Lewiston, NY: Mellen, 1991. Blenkinsopp, Joseph. Ezekiel. Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching. Louisville, KY: John Knox, 1990. Block, Daniel. The Book of Ezekiel: Chapters 1–​24. New International Commentary on the Old Testament. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997. Bowen, Nancy R. “The Daughters of Your People: Female Prophets in Ezek 13:17–​23.” Journal of Biblical Literature 118, no. 3 (1999): 417–​33. Broome, Edwin C. “Ezekiel’s Abnormal Personality.” Journal of Biblical Literature 65, no. 3 (1946): 277–​92. Carley, Keith. “From Harshness to Hope: The Implications for Earth of Hierarchy in Ezekiel.” In Cook and Patton, Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World, 109–​126. Clements, Ronald E. Ezekiel. Westminster Bible Companion. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1996. Consultation on Common Texts. The Revised Common Lectionary. Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 1992. Cook, Stephen L., and Corrine L. Patton, eds. Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World: Wrestling with a Tiered Reality. Society of Biblical Literature Symposium Series 20. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2005. Darr, Katheryn Pfisterer. “The Book of Ezekiel.” In The New Interpreters Bible, edited by Leander Keck, 6:1073–​1607. Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 2001. Darr, Katheryn Pfisterer. “Proverb Performance and Trans-​ Generational Retribution in Ezekiel 18.” In Cook and Patton, Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World, 199–​226. Fishbane, Michael. Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985.

360   Steven Tuell Fitzgerald, Aloysius. “The Mythological Background for the Presentation of Jerusalem as a Queen and False Worship as Adultery in the OT.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 34 (1972): 403–​16. Galambush, Julia. Jerusalem in the Book of Ezekiel: The City as Yahweh’s Wife. Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series 130. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1992. Gowan, Donald. Ezekiel. Knox Preaching Guides. Atlanta: John Knox, 1985. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 1–​20. Anchor Bible 22. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1983. Habel, Norman. “The Silence of the Lands: The Ecojustice Implications of Ezekiel’s Judgment Oracles.” In Cook and Patton, Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World, 127–​40. Halperin, David J. Seeking Ezekiel: Text and Psychology. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1993. Hals, Ronald M. Ezekiel. Forms of the Old Testament Literature 19. Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans, 1989. Himmelfarb, Martha. “From Prophecy to Apocalypse: The Book of the Watchers and Tours of Heaven.” In Jewish Spirituality: From the Bible through the Middle Ages, edited by Arthur Green, 145–​65. World Spirituality 13. New York: Crossroad, 1988. Joyce, Paul. Divine Initiative and Human Response in Ezekiel. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 51. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1989. Joyce, Paul. Ezekiel: A Commentary. The Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 482. London: T&T Clark, 2007. Joyce, Paul M. “Ezekiel 40–​42: The Earliest ‘Heavenly Ascent’ Narrative?” In The Book of Ezekiel and Its Influence, edited by Henk Jan De Jonge and Johannes Tromp, 17–​42. Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 2007. Kalmanofsky, Amy. “Ezekiel and Gender,” this volume. Klostermann, August. “Ezekiel. Ein Beitrag zu besserer Würdigung seiner Person und seiner Schrift.” Theologische Studien und Kritiken 50 (1877): 391–​439. Mackie, Timothy. “Text-​Critical Issues in Ezekiel,” this volume. Masalha, Nur. “60 Years after the Nakba: Historical Truth, Collective Memory and Ethical Obligations.” Kyoto Bulletin of Islamic Area Studies 3, no. 1 (2009): 37–​88. Mein, Andrew. Ezekiel and the Ethics of Exile. Oxford Theology and Religion Monographs. Oxford: Oxford University Press: 2001. Odell, Margaret S., and John T. Strong, eds. The Book of Ezekiel: Theological and Anthropological Perspectives. Society of Biblical Literature Symposium Series. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000. Patton, Corrine L. “ ‘Should Our Sister Be Treated Like a Whore?’ A Response to Feminist Critiques of Ezekiel 23.” In Odell and Strong, Ezekiel, 221–​38. Poser, Ruth. “Ezekiel As Trauma Literature,” this volume. Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit. “Ezekiel as the Voice of the Exiles and Constructor of Exilic Ideology.” Hebrew Union College Annual 76 (2005): 1–​45. Saggs, Henry William Frederick. “ ‘External Souls’ in the Old Testament.” Journal of Semitic Studies 19 (1974): 8–​10. Smith-​Christopher, Daniel L. A Biblical Theology of Exile. Overtures to Biblical Theology. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2002. Smith-​Christopher, Daniel L. “Ezekiel in Abu Ghraib: Rereading Ezekiel 16:37–​39 in the Context of Imperial Conquest.” In Cook and Patton, Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World, 141–​58. Stevenson, Kalinda Rose. The Vision of Transformation: The Territorial Rhetoric of Ezekiel 40–​ 48. Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series 154. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1996.

Pastoral Appropriations of Ezekiel    361 Strong, John T. “Grounding Ezekiel’s Heavenly Ascent: A Defense of Ezek 40–​48 as a Program for Restoration.” Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 26 (2012): 192–​211. Terrien, Samuel. The Elusive Presence. Religious Perspectives 26. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1978. Tuell, Steven. “The Book of Ezekiel as a Work In Progress: Indications from the Lament Over the King of Tyre (28:11–​19).” In Ezekiel: Current Debates and Future Directions, edited by William A. Tooman and Penelope Barter, 66–​91. FAT 112. Tübingen: Mohr-​Siebeck, 2017. Tuell, Steven. “Divine Presence and Absence in Ezekiel’s Prophecy.” In Odell and Strong, Ezekiel, 97–116. Tuell, Steven. Ezekiel. Understanding the Bible Commentary. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2012. Tuell, Steven. “Ezekiel 40–​42 as Verbal Icon.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 58 (1996): 649–​664. Tuell, Steven. “Should Ezekiel Go To Rehab? The Method to Ezekiel’s ‘Madness.’ ” Perspectives in Religious Studies 36 (2009): 293–​301. Tuell, Steven. “True Metaphor: Insights into Reading Scripture from the Rabbis,” Theology Today 67 (2011): 467–​75. van Dijk-​Hemmes, Fokkelien. “The Metaphorization of Woman in Prophetic Speech: An Analysis of Ezekiel XXIII.” In On Gendering Texts: Male and Female Voices in the Hebrew Bible, edited by Athalya Brenner and Fokkelien van Dijk-​Hemmes, 168–​76. BibIntC 1. Leiden: Brill, 1993. von Rad, Gerhard. Old Testament Theology, Vol. 2. Translated by D. M. G. Stalker. New York: Harper & Row, 1965. Wilson, Robert R. “Prophecy in Crisis: The Call of Ezekiel.” In Interpreting the Prophets, edited by James L. Mays and Paul J. Achtemeier. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezekiel 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 1–​24. Translated by Ronald E. Clements. Hermeneia. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezekiel 2: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 25–​48. Translated by James D. Martin. Hermeneia. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983. Zimmerli, Walther. I Am Yahweh. Edited by Walter Brueggemann and translated by Douglas W. Stott. Atlanta: John Knox, 1982.

Chapter 19

E zekiel in t h e J ew i sh Tradi t i on Yedida Eisenstat

According to the Talmud of Babylonia, it was not at all a certainty that Ezekiel would be included in the Hebrew Bible.1 Thus in the first part of this chapter, I address the ancient rabbis’ ambivalence about Ezekiel’s place in the biblical canon, and its employ in the liturgical tradition.2 I then turn to the development of a midrashic tradition that employs an enigmatic verse from Ezekiel, namely 16:6. In Jewish tradition, this verse has come to receive its greatest prominence in the circumcision liturgy. Therefore, in the latter part of this chapter, I endeavor to account for this verse’s earliest attested inclusion in that ceremony, and its evolving meaning in that context.

1.  Ezekiel in the Mishnah and the Talmud Rabbi Judah the Patriarch (early third century ce) recounted that were it not for the efforts of one Ḥananyah ben Ḥizkiyah to reconcile the legal contradictions between the Torah and the book of Ezekiel, the latter would have been suppressed.3 While the historicity of such a claim is debatable, several such texts reflect that the ancient rabbis had concerns about elements of this prophetic book.4 The Mishnah discusses which biblical passages “one may not expound” (Hagigah 2:1). These include the laws of forbidden sexual relations (Leviticus 18) and the account of Creation (Genesis 1–​2). Such content is to be taught only in very small groups or not at all. The strictest guideline applies to the teaching of the divine chariot, the ‫מֶ ְר ּ ָכבָ ה‬ merkāḇāh of Ezekiel 1, which may not be taught at all, even to one disciple at a time, “unless he is wise and understanding from his own knowledge.”

Ezekiel in the Jewish Tradition    363 The Talmud’s discussion of this mishnah (BT Hagigah 13a) allows for a qualified student to elaborate on the divine chariot before his teacher, so that the teacher may ensure the student’s correct understanding. The Talmud here also explores the boundaries of the pericope: where does the “forbidden” text end? The discussion then turns to whether one may expound at all regarding the ‫ חַ ׁ ְשמַ ל‬ḥašmal “electrum” (1:4, 27). The basis for this concern is a report that there was once a young man whose time for study of this delicate subject matter had not yet arrived; and upon his premature expounding of this text, “fire came out and consumed him.” Given the apparent danger, the Talmud further explains that a number of ancient sages sought to suppress this book—​presumably an allusion to some effort to exclude Ezekiel from the developing canon.5 Not only was the divine chariot of Ezekiel 1 forbidden for casual study,6 but also most rabbis at the time of the Mishnah’s composition seem to have agreed that this passage ought not be recited liturgically as a ‫הַ פְ טָ ָרה‬hap̄ṭārāh “prophetic lection,” according to Megillah 4:10. Nevertheless, following the minority opinion of Rabbi Yehudah, the passage became the traditional prophetic reading for the first day of the holiday of Shavuot (Pentecost), when Jews celebrate God’s revelation at Sinai and the giving of the Torah.7 The liturgical prophetic reading thus parallels the revelation at Sinai in its initial theophany followed by divine address.8 The same mishnah in tractate Megillah also records a minority opinion of Rabbi Eliezer: one may not liturgically recite Ezekiel 16. (That is the damning and violent pornographic passage with God’s opening charge to Ezekiel, “Make known to Jerusalem her abominations. . . .”) While the entirety of this troubling prophecy is indeed not recited liturgically in any rabbinic tradition, Yemenite communities follow Maimonides and recite verses 1–​14—​the still-​romantic earlier part of the long metaphorical passage—​as the haftarah that accompanies their annual reading of parashat Shemot, Exodus 1–​6.9 Ezekiel 16: 1–​14 may be understood as a retelling of the first chapters of Exodus.

2.  Ezekiel 16:6 and its First-​Millennium Midrash We embark now on our study of a prominent midrashic tradition that is focused on Ezek 16:6, which features a striking and unexplained repetition of four Hebrew words: “I said to you, ‘Through your blood, live!’ ”10 In subsequent sections, I will explore this tradition’s development and eventual entry into Jewish liturgy. As noted above, Ezekiel 16 is an extended metaphorical retelling of the history of God’s relationship with Israel, which quickly becomes a haranguing indictment of Jerusalem for her sins. The verses employed by the traditions that I present appear at the beginning of the passage, and in their original context described the early, rosy days of God and Israel’s relationship. God, a presumably older wealthy male figure, rescued

364   Yedida Eisenstat Israel, an unwanted female newborn—​not even cleaned or swaddled—​who had been abandoned to die of exposure. Speaking in God’s voice, Ezekiel continues: When I passed by you and saw you wallowing in your blood, I said to you: “Live in spite of your blood.” Yea, I said to you: “Live in spite of your blood.”11 I let you grow like the plants of the field; and you continued to grow up until you attained to womanhood, until your breasts became firm and your hair sprouted. You were still naked and bare when I passed by you [again] and saw that your time for love had arrived. So I spread My robe over you and covered your nakedness, and I entered into a covenant with you by oath—​declares the Lord God; thus you became Mine. (Ezek 16: 6–​8)12

The text goes on to describe that upon the baby’s physical maturation, God married her, showered her with incredible gifts, and provided generously for her—​only to be betrayed as she whored herself among the nations. Quite a graphic and violent spectacle follows. With respect to the midrashic tradition, our concern is with the above-​quoted verse that describes God’s rescue of the abandoned infant. The rabbis understood it an allusion to His rescue of Israel from Egypt and eventual marriage to Israel at Sinai.13

3.  Mekhilta de-​R abbi Yishmael on Exodus 12:6 As ancient rabbinic exegetes were wont to do, they used verses from one place—​in this case, Ezekiel 16—​to elucidate a question that arose from a totally different passage. In our case, the anonymous redactor of the Mekhilta (early to mid-​third century), commenting on Exodus 12, stated his question explicitly: “Why did Scripture require that the purchase of the paschal lamb take place four days before its slaughter?” Whereas he might have simply presented his eventual conclusion that “one cannot obtain rewards except for deeds”—​i.e., that God gave the Israelites commandments to fulfill so that they would merit their redemption—​he also included a rather lengthy exegesis of Ezek 16:6–​8 by Rabbi Matia ben Heresh.14 The passage reads: Why did Scripture require that the purchase of the paschal lamb take place four days before its slaughter? R. Matia ben Heresh used to say: Behold it says: When I passed by you, I saw that your time for love had arrived (v. 8). [This means that the time] has arrived for the fulfillment of the oath that the Holy One, blessed be He, had sworn to Abraham to deliver his children. But as yet they had no commandments [mitzvot] to perform by which to merit redemption, as it says: your breasts became firm and your hair sprouted, but you were naked and bare (v. 7)—​bare of any commandments. Therefore the Holy One, blessed be He, assigned them two commandments, the commandment of the paschal sacrifice and the commandment of circumcision, with which they should busy themselves so that they would be redeemed, as it says: When I passed by you and saw you wallowing in your blood [I said to you: In your blood live.

Ezekiel in the Jewish Tradition    365 I said to you: In your blood live] (v. 6). It also says: You, for your part, through the blood of your covenant I have released your prisoners from the pit in which there is no water (Zech 9:11). Therefore Scripture required that the purchase of the paschal lamb take place four days before its slaughter. For one cannot obtain rewards except for deeds.15

Since R. Matia’s teaching addresses the need for commandments in order that Israel merit redemption, the cursory reader may not notice that it does not directly address the question of why God commanded the Israelites to designate their paschal sacrifices four days in advance. One may certainly claim that the anonymous redactor’s question and conclusion share the same thematic concern as R. Matia: how Israel would merit her redemption. Let us examine R. Matia’s midrash. Working backwards from 16:8 to 16:6, R. Matia ben Heresh explains that the description of the young woman’s physical maturation meant that the time had come for God to realize His promise to Abraham (Genesis 15) to redeem Abraham’s descendants from the land in which they were enslaved, Egypt. While the time had come, Israel did not yet merit her redemption because she was “naked and bare” (Ezek 16:7), that is, she lacked the yet-​to-​be-​given divine gifts of the commandments. The exegete here supplies background information that connects Israel’s nakedness of verse 7 to her wallowing in her blood in verse 6. Since at the beginning of Exodus 12 the Israelites lacked any mitzvot through which to merit their redemption, God commanded them regarding the blood of the paschal lamb—​with which they would mark their doorposts and lintels—​and the blood of circumcision. The proof for this midrashic claim is Ezek 16:6, in which the prophet narrates that God passed by neglected newborn Israel and saw her “wallowing” in her “bloods,” presumably of two kinds—​of the paschal lamb and of circumcision—​ which then is further confirmed by God’s speech to the newborn Israel in the continuation of the verse, I said to you: In your blood, live. I said to you: In your blood, live. In the order of the verses as they appear in the biblical text (6, 7, then 8), God enters into a covenant with the young woman only after passing by a second time. In R. Matia’s reversed retelling of the scene, the covenant is already established by the time that God first happens upon Israel, and the time for its realization is upon her maturation. Whereas in the biblical text, in verse 10, after their covenant (a kind of marriage) was enacted, God clothed Israel in exquisite finery, in the midrash, the covenant is already in force; and the drama of how it will be realized is established as a result of Israel’s nakedness of commandments—​a metaphorical absence of the merit required to ensure her redemption. A further notable effect of R. Matia’s clever reversal is that the blood of birth is here transformed into the blood of God’s two covenants with Abraham: the paschal sacrifice, representing the imminent fulfillment of God’s covenant-​between-​the-​parts of Genesis 15, and the covenant of circumcision of Genesis 17. The introduction of circumcision into this midrash is then likely a function of the connection made between the paschal sacrifice and the rite of circumcision in Exod 12:43–​48, wherein God commanded regarding later commemorations of the Passover that all males who eat of its sacrifice must be circumcised.

366   Yedida Eisenstat While the midrash on the Ezekiel verses does not actually answer the question with which it opened, it nevertheless advances the claim that in order to merit redemption, Israel needed to have and perform at least these two commandments. While there is no indication in Exodus 12 that the Israelites circumcised themselves in advance of the paschal offering, Joshua 5:5 does state explicitly that all of the Israelite males who left Egypt were circumcised—​a claim that is taken up in the midrashic tradition of Pirke de-​Rabbi Eliezer, to which we now turn.

4.  Pirke de-​R abbi Eliezer 29:10–​11 Pirke de-​Rabbi Eliezer (PRE) is likely of Palestinian origin and is dated to the post-​ talmudic period, perhaps as early as the eighth century ce.16 It takes up the claim of how one knows that the Israelites were circumcised when they left Egypt—​a detail which, as we noted above, is not stated in the Exodus narrative itself. This midrashic tradition asserts that all Israelite males were circumcised upon the exodus, substantiates it with the aforementioned prooftext from Joshua, and describes the scene in which the Israelites circumcised themselves: On the day when the children of Israel went forth from Egypt all the people were circumcised, both young and old, as it says, For all the people that came out were circumcised (Josh 5:5). The Israelites took the blood of the covenant of circumcision and put it upon the lintel of their houses, and when the Holy One, blessed be He, passed over to plague the Egyptians, he saw upon the lintel of their houses the blood of the covenant of circumcision and the blood of the paschal lamb, and was filled with compassion on Israel, as it is said, When I passed by you and saw you wallowing in your blood, I said to you: In your blood live. I said to you: In your blood live [Ezek 16:6]. In your blood (sing.) is not written here, but in your blood (pl.), in twofold blood,17 the blood of the covenant of circumcision and the blood of the paschal lamb.18

Whereas the earlier Mekhilta made the more modest claim that the Israelites performed the circumcision in Egypt on the eve of their redemption, PRE here has a more pronounced focus on the blood and makes a more grandiose claim: that the Israelites mixed the blood of the paschal lamb—​with which they were commanded to mark their doorposts and lintels—​with the blood of their circumcisions, and that upon seeing both of these “bloods,” God was thereby moved to redemptive compassion for Israel. Shaye Cohen has noted that in the third-​century Mekhilta, the efficacious element that leads to Israel’s redemption is the fledgling nation’s observance of two mitzvot, the paschal sacrifice and circumcision. In the Mekhilta, the “bloods” are metonyms for the commandments to which the Mekhilta pointed in its claim that Israel merited her redemption. In contrast, as Cohen highlights, the PRE tradition—​with its increased emphasis on the blood—​is concerned with blood’s salvific power and its apparent power to evoke God’s compassion.19

Ezekiel in the Jewish Tradition    367 Cohen further pointed to other traditions contemporary with PRE to show that an “exegetical reevaluation” took place not earlier than 800 ce, in which blood became “protective, salvific, and apotropaic” in Judaism in new ways.20 Cohen suggested that this development may have derived from interpretations of the mysterious bridegroom-​ of-​blood passage (Exodus 4:24–​26). There, Zipporah’s circumcision of her son and her touching of his foreskin to the thigh of an unnamed male (either Moses or her son) saves that family member from a deadly divine attack,21 after which she proclaims him a “bridegroom of blood” to her.22 Regardless of who was saved, the import of this passage is the salvific power of circumcision alongside an emphasis on the blood.

5.  In the Ashkenazic Circumcision Liturgy Given the midrashic association of Ezek 16:6 with circumcision, perhaps we should not be surprised that this verse eventually entered the circumcision liturgy.23 The earliest evidence for the inclusion of this verse, as the first of five new verses, is from eleventh-​ century Ashkenaz, which raises the question of why: What was the symbolic significance of the interpolation of these verses into this ritual at that moment in history? The following section analyzes the first evidence for the inclusion of these verses in the Jewish circumcision ritual, offers a historical framework to account for this development, and finally explains how the significance of the verse in this ritual evolved, as Jews’ relations with their Christian neighbors deteriorated over time.

6. Maḥzor Vitry The first evidence for the inclusion of Ezek 16:6 in the circumcision liturgy is from Maḥzor Vitry (late eleventh to early twelfth century), a legal and liturgical compilation by Rabbi Simḥah ben Samuel of Vitry, a student or colleague of the renowned Rabbi Solomon ben Isaac, better known as Rashi (1040–​1105).24 This text records many of Rashi’s rulings, among many other topics; it also includes the liturgy for a circumcision ceremony. According to the described procedure, the male child is brought to the synagogue, welcomed by the community, and circumcised. As the ritual circumciser, the mohel, completes his task, wine is dripped into the baby’s mouth, and the wound is dressed. The father recites a blessing on being able to fulfill the commandment of ushering his son into the covenant of Abraham. All present respond, “Just as he enters the covenant, so may he enter into Torah, marriage, good deeds, and [the observance of] the commandments.”25 At this point, the mohel pours a cup of wine and recites the blessing over the

368   Yedida Eisenstat wine, and the father recites a blessing to recognize God as the “Lord, who establishes the covenant”—​the sign of which is circumcision, and the reward for which is to be saved from destruction. The child’s health is then prayed for, and he is given his name in the following prayer, wherein Ezek 16:6 is invoked: Our God and God of our fathers, preserve the child to his father and mother, and let his name be called in Israel (baby’s name son of father’s name). May the father rejoice in the issue of his body, and the mother be glad with the fruit of her womb, as is written, “May your father and mother rejoice, and she who bore you be glad.” (Prov 23:25) And it is said, “Then I passed by you and saw you wallowing in your blood. And I said to you, In your blood, live. And I said to you, In your blood, live.” (Ezek 16:6) And it is said, “He remembered His covenant for ever; the word He ordained for a thousand generations; the covenant He made with Abraham and gave on oath to Isaac, confirming it as a statute for Jacob, an everlasting covenant for Israel.” (Ps 105:8–​9) And it is said, “And Abraham circumcised his son Isaac at the age of eight days, as God had commanded him.” (Gen 21:4) Thank the Lord for He is good; for His love endures for ever. (Ps 118:1)26

The Maḥzor instructs that each time the phrase “In your blood, live” is recited, the circumciser should dip his finger in the wine and drip it into the mouth of the baby.27 Thus Maḥzor Vitry is not only the earliest source that includes the Ezekiel verse, but it is also the first source that records that wine is dripped into the newly-​circumcised baby’s mouth upon the verse’s mentions of blood.

7.  The Growing Significance of Circumcision Blood in the East We saw above that the ancient rabbis had already suggested a connection between Ezek 16:6 and the commandment of circumcision. Shaye Cohen argues that through the talmudic period, with respect to circumcision, “what mattered was the cut not the blood.”28 That is to say, the blood of circumcision became more significant in the post-​talmudic period, which Cohen argues is reflected in the PRE passage discussed above, and also the PRE passage here: Rabban Gamaliel said: Abraham sent and called for Shem, the son of Noah, and he circumcised the flesh of the foreskin of our father Abraham, and the flesh of the foreskin of Ishmael his son, as it is said, “In the selfsame day was Abraham circumcised, and Ishmael his son” (Gen 17:26). “In the selfsame day” (means) in the might of the sun at midday. Not only that, but (it indicates) the tenth day of the month, the Day of Atonement. It is written in connection with the Day of Atonement, “Ye shall do no manner of work on that selfsame day, for it is a day of atonement” (Lev 23:28); and in the present instance the text says, “In the selfsame day was Abraham circumcised”

Ezekiel in the Jewish Tradition    369 (Gen 17:26). Know then that on the Day of Atonement Abraham our father was circumcised. Every year the Holy One, blessed be He, sees the blood of our father Abraham’s circumcision, and He forgives all the sins of Israel, as it is said, “For on this day shall atonement be made for you, to cleanse you” (Lev 16:30). In that place where Abraham was circumcised and his blood remained, there the altar was built, and therefore, “And all the blood thereof shall he pour out at the base of the altar” (ibid. 4:30). (It says also), “I said unto thee, In thy blood, live; yea, I said unto thee, In thy blood, live” (Ezek 16:6).29

This tradition connects the blood of circumcision to the Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur), through the midrashic claim that Abraham and his household were circumcised on that very day. Thus God saw—​and continues to look to—​the blood of Abraham’s circumcision, and is thereby moved to forgive Israel’s sins on Yom Kippur. In this tradition, the two “bloods” of Ezek 16:6 that together stir God’s compassion are not the blood of the paschal sacrifice and the blood of circumcision but rather the blood of the purification offerings of the Day of Atonement (Leviticus 16) that mix with the blood of Abraham’s circumcision. Both of these post-​talmudic PRE midrashic traditions evince more concern with the blood of circumcision and its salvific power than with the foreskin’s removal. By the time of the compilation of PRE in the eighth or ninth century, circumcision blood had become redemptive, salvific, and atoning. With respect to changes in the ritual, Elisabeth Hollender has suggested that upon the rise of Islam and its cultural practice of circumcision, Jews sought to further ritualize what had earlier been a family rite performed in the home, to distinguish their practice from those of their increasingly Muslim neighbors.30 This may have been the context in which, between the eighth through tenth centuries, the rabbinic leadership of the venerable Babylonian Jewish communities instituted the talmudic “cup of blessing” as part of the circumcision ritual.31 In the classical rabbinic tradition, wine represents joy because it “gladdens the heart” (Ps 104:15) and sanctity in that wine libations accompanied temple sacrifices.32 Thus the early medieval rabbis instituted a cup of wine as part of the liturgy of circumcision, as a means of sacralizing the rite,33 while establishing that some of the wine would be given to the newly circumcised baby boy because he and his initiation into the covenant were the cause for celebration.34 Thus in its original eastern Babylonian Jewish context, the wine was a means of infusing a celebratory element into the ritual; it had none of the redemptive symbolism of wine in the Western Christian world.35 In the East, Ezek 16:6 was not yet part of the rite.

8.  Historical Context as the Key to Interpretation The wine rite found its way from the Muslim East, where many Muslims also practiced circumcision, to the Christian world,36 where circumcision was a mark of distinction

370   Yedida Eisenstat for Jews. Circumcision emerged as a mark of a male Jew’s identity—​as a symbol of being subject to Abrahamic covenant and obligation to the commandments—​during the Second Temple period.37 Upon Jesus’ crucifixion, the first generation of his followers had debated whether gentile Christ-​followers needed to be circumcised and thereby become subject to the Law (i.e., the Torah and its commandments) in order to join the burgeoning movement and ultimately concluded that they did not.38 In Christian Europe, Jews and Christians found themselves in increasing contact, as Jews migrated to northern Europe through the twelfth century, swelling their communities. As a result, the significance of circumcision as a marker of one’s religious identity grew, as each community imagined itself as the rightful heir to Abraham’s covenant with God. Elisheva Baumgarten points out that in the Hebrew chronicles of the First Crusade,39 Jews referred to their Christian neighbors as the “uncircumcised” and “the impure ones,” a reference to the contaminating waters of baptism, while referring to themselves in contrast as “children of the covenant,” i.e., circumcision.40 Against the background of this constellation of religious symbols, Ezek 16:6 and accompanying verses were added to the circumcision liturgy. Space does not allow us to delve into the historiographical debates as to whether Jewish–​Christian relations in Europe were hostile (and the nature of that hostility) from the outset. Nevertheless, a basic understanding of the historical scheme will suffice to shed light on the context of the Ezekiel verse’s initial inclusion in the ritual, its significance, and its evolving meaning in relation to increasing Jewish awareness of the Christian “other” and the deterioration of Jewish–​Christian relations. Before Jewish–​Christian relations took a turn for the worse in the twelfth century—​as a result of religious, social, and economic factors41—​they were largely shaped by two major intellectual traditions. The first of these is the adversus (or contra) Judaeos tradition, which Rosemary Radford Ruether concisely described as a Christian hermeneutic mode that sees Jewish history as a heritage of rejecting and killing the prophets, of which the rejection and killing of Christ, the final prophet, are the climax. The theme, begun in the New Testament and carried on in the patristic writings, paints a picture of the Jews as a people who never heard the prophets, always rejected the prophetic message and refused to repent, and finally killed the prophets.42

Central to this worldview is that all Jews are perpetually guilty of having killed Jesus—​ and that they are obstinate, unable to identify or even hear their own prophets. Evidence that this idea was operative and influential through the end of the eleventh century is that both Christian and Jewish sources testify that the accusation of deicide underlay the violence perpetrated against Jews in 1096.43 For example, in his description of an attack against the Jews of Rouen in 1096, Guibert of Nogent wrote: The people who had undertaken to go on that expedition under the badge of the cross began to complain to one another, “After traversing great distances, we desire to

Ezekiel in the Jewish Tradition    371 attack the enemies of God in the East, although the Jews, of all races the worst foes of God, are before our eyes. That’s doing our work backward.”44

Similarly, the Mainz Anonymous, one of the Hebrew chronicles of the First Crusade, records of their attackers: They said to one another: “Behold we travel to a distant land to do battle with the kings of that land. We take our souls in our hands in order to kill and to subjugate all those kingdoms that do not believe in the Crucified. How much more so [should we kill and subjugate] the Jews, who killed and crucified him.”45

The second intellectual tradition that informed Christian ideas about Jews through the eleventh century is the Augustinian doctrine of witness. Based on an exegesis of Ps 59:12, “Slay them not /​lest my people forget,” Augustine argued that while Jews should be subjugated, they should not be killed, because they serve as witnesses. Jews testify to the authenticity of the Old Testament prophecies that, from a Christian perspective, foretell the coming of Christ. And in their wandering, like their biblical forebear Cain, Jews testify to their own misery for having rejected Jesus.46 Within this Christian framework, Jews do not understand their own Scriptures and also obstinately continue to observe the Law, even after it expired upon the advent of Jesus.

9.  The Dripping of the Wine Maḥzor Vitry testifies only that by the time of its writing, Ezek 16:6 had become part of the Ashkenazic circumcision liturgy. It does not explain the verse’s significance. We may nevertheless try to account for the verse’s presence—​and why wine is given to the newly circumcised boy upon its recitation. According to Maḥzor Vitry, wine is first dripped into the baby’s mouth immediately after the surgical procedure, before the wine is poured for the “cup of blessing.” This supports the common notion that wine is given to the baby to take the edge off the surgical trauma he just endured. Our interest, though, is in the wine dripped into the baby’s mouth after the blessing over the wine of “the cup of blessing,” upon the mentions of blood as Ezek 16:6 is recited. At the end of Maḥzor Vitry’s description of the circumcision ritual, it offers the following explanation of why the baby is given wine: For educational purposes. As Mar taught: the one who makes the blessing must taste [of the wine].47 All the more so he who is being blessed [i.e. the baby boy] must enjoy from the cup of blessing for which he is the cause [of celebration], so that a blessing is not made in vain.”48

Maḥzor Vitry makes no effort to explain the presence of Ezek 16:6 in the ritual or to explain why it is upon the recitation of this verse that wine is dripped into the baby’s mouth.

372   Yedida Eisenstat I submit that one clue to the verse’s inclusion is that it is recited during the naming prayer, which, as quoted above, includes a petition for the child’s health and well-​being. Indeed, in the Ezekiel commentary of Joseph Kara49 (a northern French exegete who was a contemporary of Rashi and Simḥah of Vitry) he explained that “In your blood, live!” should be understood: “In your blood(s), be healed!” Kara’s gloss of this phrase provides contemporary and geographically proximate evidence for the inclusion of this verse as a call for healing. The resonance of the midrashic tradition about Ezek 16:6 ought also to be considered. As we saw above, from ancient times, the “bloods” became metonyms for the commandments, especially the commandment of circumcision, the observance of which led God to redeem Israel from Egypt. If so, then in effect the verse proclaims: Through your blood—​i.e., the commandments—​live! Live through [your observance of] the commandments. The historical context of this development is surely significant. As the small Jewish population grew in the midst of a majority Christian culture that had a strong millennium-​old association of blood and wine, Jews instituted this novel element in the rite through which the initiates entered into Abrahamic covenant. While each tradition’s relationship to wine reaches back to the Second Temple period, their symbolic understandings diverged as Christianity adopted an explicit identification of wine with blood, one absent in rabbinic Judaism.50 While late eleventh-​century Jews likely did not know the details of the Christian association of blood with wine, it is reasonable to assert that they were aware that wine—​as Jesus’ blood—​was part of Christian ritual, and that belief in Jesus as one’s savior was a precondition for salvation. I submit that the symbolism of dripping the wine into the baby’s mouth immediately after his circumcision, and as Ezek 16:6 is recited, was a subtle appropriation and repurposing of the Christian association of wine with blood, through which these Jews rejected Christian wine symbolism and all that entailed: salvation through faith in Jesus Christ and Christianity’s supersessionist claims to Abrahamic covenant. Maḥzor Vitry’s explanation supports this contention, as the dripping of the wine is presented as the fulfillment of a rabbinic commandment: that the boy must be given wine from the “cup of blessing.” The first thing the baby does upon his initiation into the covenant is fulfill a mitzvah by drinking (sort of) wine that represents blood, which is a midrashic metonym for the commandments. The verses recited immediately after Ezek 16:6 offer further support, in that they were clearly curated to substantiate the Jewish understanding of circumcision. And it is said, “He remembered His covenant for ever; the word He ordained for a thousand generations; the covenant He made with Abraham and gave on oath to Isaac, confirming it as a statute for Jacob, an everlasting covenant for Israel.” (Ps. 105:8–​9) And it is said, “And Abraham circumcised his son Isaac at the age of eight days, as God had commanded him.” (Genesis 21:4) Thank the Lord for He is good; for His love endures for ever. (Ps. 118:1)51

Ezekiel in the Jewish Tradition    373 Circumcision is the symbol of God’s enduring and eternal covenant with the Jewish people, and God commanded it “to the thousandth generation.” These claims preclude Christianity’s supersession.

10.  Circumcision and Salvation: Jacob the Circumciser’s Rules As context changes, so meaning evolves. While through the eleventh century Jews and Christians seemed mostly to relate to each other as theoretical “others,”52 as the twelfth century progressed, they came into increasing real contact and came to know each other better. There is some evidence that as a result of this real contact, the symbolism of Ezek 16:6 in the circumcision liturgy changed. Medieval Jewish historical scholarship is increasingly interested in the ways the two religious communities interacted and influenced each other.53 While scholars debate the extent and impact of outbreaks of anti-​Jewish violence,54 it is also increasingly clear that the two religious communities had regular day-​to-​day contact and much in common.55 Besides documenting the ways in which high medieval Ashkenazic circumcision ritual was influenced by Christian baptism, Elisheva Baumgarten has observed the analogous nature of the two rituals.56 Both are rites of initiation, and both guarantee salvation to the initiated.57 Indeed, one of the circumcision blessings prescribed in the Babylonian Talmud recognizes circumcision’s power to save the initiated from ‫שחַ ת‬ ַ ׁ šaḥaṯ “destruction,” a biblical term that according to Rashi refers to ‫ֵיה ּנו ֹם‬ ִ ‫ ּג‬gêhinnôm, Jewish hell.58 And while this blessing originated long before Jews arrived in Europe in larger numbers, its pre-​existence does not preclude that increased contact with their Christian neighbors raised Jews’ awareness of Christianity’s competing claims as to the necessary preconditions for salvation. The growing popularity of the following midrash from Genesis Rabba in medieval Ashkenaz attests to Jews’ growing awareness of Christians’ competing claims to the means of salvation.59 Rabbi Levi taught: In the afterlife, Abraham sits at the entrance to gehinnom and does not permit any circumcised man of Israel [i.e., Jew] to go down there. And those who sinned overly much, what will he do to them? He transfers a foreskin from a baby who died as yet uncircumcised, and he places it on them [those who sinned too much], and he [Abraham] takes them down to gehinnom, as is written: he harmed his ally, he broke his covenant60 (Psalm 55:21).

According to this ancient tradition, circumcision saves a Jewish man from hell, unless he was overly wicked. In that case, he receives a foreskin transplant from a baby who died before he could be circumcised, which now makes it possible for this wicked Jew to

374   Yedida Eisenstat go to hell—​and for the innocent baby, newly circumcised, to go to heaven.61 He harmed his ally refers to the actions of the wicked, and he broke his covenant presumably refers to Jews who went uncircumcised.62 Of particular note is that just as Christians asserted that unbaptized Jews would land themselves in hell, so too Jews asserted that uncircumcised Jews would land themselves in gehinnom—​yet another affirmation of the importance of the commandment of circumcision. The increased contact between Jews and Christians also had a darker side, as relations deteriorated. Christians became increasingly aware that in reality, Jews were not the fossils that Christianity supposed them to be, that Jewish tradition continued to develop after the Second Temple was destroyed. This realization, alongside the reality that the social status of the Jews was not quite as wretched as it ought to have been according to Augustinian doctrine, as well as other factors, contributed to the further deterioration of Jewish–​Christian relations, as manifested in accusations of blood libel, ritual murder, and host desecration, as well as Talmud trials. It is from this later context that our second medieval testimony regarding the significance of the inclusion of Ezek 16:6 in the liturgy originates, the “Rules of Circumcision” by the ritual circumciser Jacob haGozer (lit. “the Circumciser”), ca. 1230.63 As we shall see, it evinces a heightened awareness of the author’s majority Christian surroundings and of circumcision as an embodied mark of distinction between the marked selves of Jewish males and their unmarked Christian neighbors. To demonstrate Jacob’s heightened awareness of Christianity, we turn first to the ritual manual’s intertwined efforts to interpret Ezek 16:6 and to account for the verse’s presence in the circumcision liturgy. The author offers no fewer than seven different interpretations of the verse—​a reflection of his uncertainty as to its significance in the context of circumcision. The first four are different efforts to account for the meaning of the verse’s rare word ‫ ִמ ְתבּ ו ֹסֶ סֶ ת‬miṯbôseseṯ. The fifth explanation associates the “bloods” with healing, and it is through this association that Jacob explains that as the verse is recited, wine is dripped into the baby’s mouth. Admitting his uncertainty as to why this is done, he offers two explanations. The first appears to be quoted nearly verbatim from the Maḥzor Vitry: the one who blesses the wine must taste it, and so too he who is the cause for celebration, i.e., the baby. Alternatively, he explains that both the baby and mother are given to drink of the wine because they are both in need of healing; and they drink while blessings are said to promote their healing. This second proposition lends weight to my above suggestion that the “bloods” of the verse, metonyms for the commandments, have a salubrious effect. Jacob haGozer then returns to the question of the meaning of Ezek 16:6 and asks, “What is the proof that ‘And I said to you, Through your blood, live!’ is repeated twice?” The answer he offers is a long quotation from PRE. It is here that his commentary on the circumcision ritual ventures into implicit polemical territory. Rabbi said: Isaac circumcised Jacob and Esau; and Esau despised the covenant of circumcision just as he despised the birthright, as it is said, “So Esau despised his birthright” (Gen 25:34). Jacob clung to the covenant of circumcision, and circumcised

Ezekiel in the Jewish Tradition    375 his sons and his grandsons. Whence (do we know) that the sons of Jacob were circumcised? Because it is said, “Only on this condition will the men consent unto us to dwell with us. . . if every male among us be circumcised, as they are circumcised.” (34:22). Another text says, “Only on this condition will we consent unto you: if ye will be as we be” (ibid., 15). Hence thou canst learn that the sons of Jacob were circumcised. The sons of Jacob circumcised their sons and their grandsons. They gave it to them as an inheritance for an everlasting statute, until Pharaoh the Wicked arose and decreed harsh laws concerning them, and withheld from them the covenant of circumcision. And on the day when the children of Israel went forth from Egypt all the people were circumcised, both young and old, as it is said, “For all the people that came out were circumcised” (Josh 5:5).64

The above paragraph in PRE serves as the introductory backstory to the better-​known PRE version of the midrash of the “two bloods,” of the paschal lamb and of the Israelites’ circumcisions that moved God to redeem them from Egypt. Even though PRE harks back perhaps as early as the eighth century, the inclusion of the above paragraph in a thirteenth-​century Ashkenazic circumcision manual must be interpreted as a comment on Jewish-​Christian relations of the moment. Earlier rabbinic literature long identified Esau, rejector of the covenant and birthright, with Rome and Christianity.65 The inclusion of this passage in this text was a reminder that “they” (the author’s Christian neighbors)—​Esau’s descendants—​had rejected circumcision and thereby God’s covenant. Jacob then quoted in full the PRE passage of the “two bloods” (of the paschal sacrifice and circumcision) and then the lesser known subsequent passage, which also has a polemical valence: Rabbi Eliezer said: Why did the text say twice, “I said unto thee, In thy blood, live; yea, I said unto thee, In thy blood, live”? But the Holy One, blessed be He, said: By the merit of the blood of the covenant of circumcision and the blood of the paschal lamb ye shall be redeemed from Egypt, and by the merit of the covenant of circumcision and by the merit of the covenant of the Passover in the future ye shall be redeemed at the end of the fourth kingdom; therefore it is said, “I said unto thee, In thy blood, live; yea, I said unto thee, In thy blood, live” (ibid.).66

Rabbi Eliezer here offered an alternative explanation as to why the verse repeats In your blood, live: namely that the repetition refers to both the redemption of the past—​ i.e., the exodus from Egypt—​and of the future, when Israel will be redeemed from the “fourth kingdom.” And while neither the midrash nor Jacob explicitly identified this fourth kingdom as the Roman-​Christian one from which they themselves were waiting to be redeemed, there is no question that a medieval European Jewish audience would have construed the reference thus. In Jacob haGozer’s explanation of the repetition within Ezek 16:6, Jacob invoked Esau’s rejection of circumcision and thereby the covenant; explained that the bloods of the verse may also be understood to signify the salvific bloods of the paschal sacrifice and of circumcision; and finally invoked God’s past and future redemptions. Through

376   Yedida Eisenstat this midrashic code, Jacob explained that God’s covenant with Abraham endures through not Esau’s but Jacob’s descendants, those who continue to practice circumcision as a sign of their enduring commitment to the covenant and belief in its efficacy. He suggests that just as the “bloods” of circumcision—​albeit mixed with the blood of the paschal sacrifice—​moved God to redeem his ancestors from bondage in Egypt, so too will it move God to bring about their future redemption. It is clear from Jacob haGozer’s inclusion of these earlier midrashim that his Christian surroundings shaped his thought.

11. Conclusion As of the late eleventh century, Ezek 16:6 is attested as the first of a set of five biblical verses to be incorporated into the circumcision liturgy. This addition ought to be understood within its historical context. And while the first evidence for this addition is Maḥzor Vitry, the earliest extant effort to explain the presence of Ezek 16:6 in the ritual is a work by Jacob haGozer in the thirteenth century. Jacob’s efforts reflect a heightened sense of his Christian surroundings and the growing sense of threat. Through his selection of relevant midrashic traditions, he signaled to his readers that the presence of Ezek 16:6 symbolizes the enduring salvific promise of God’s eternal covenant with Israel. Jacob haGozer’s explanations are confirmed by the subsequent verses’ endorsement of the continued covenant between Abraham and his Jewish descendants.

Notes 1. BT Shabbat 13b. 2. See further Michael A. Fishbane, The JPS Bible Commentary: Haftarot (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 2002). 3. BT Shabbat 13b. 4. While the formation of the Jewish biblical canon continues to be a subject of study, it is clear that by the first century, the Pharisees held to a 22-​or 24-​book canon, as attested by Josephus and 4 Ezra. Presumably Ezekiel was among these books. Ezekiel is attested also among the Dead Sea Scrolls. 5. On canon and canonization of the Hebrew Bible, see Eva Mroczek, The Literary Imagination in Jewish Antiquity (New York: Oxford University Press, 2016); Michael L. Satlow, How the Bible Became Holy (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2014). 6. Despite the rabbinic prohibitions against studying this passage, the exposition of the divine chariot is a major focus of Part III of Maimonides’ famous philosophical treatise, the Guide of the Perplexed. 7. M. Megillah 4:10 and BT Megillah 31a. See also Shulḥan Arukh, Orah Ḥayyim 494:1. 8. On the connections between the haftarah and the holiday, see Fishbane, Haftarot, 444. 9. See Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Seder Tefillah 4:8.

Ezekiel in the Jewish Tradition    377 10. Different renderings of this Hebrew phrase are used in different parts of this chapter, to suit the setting. 11. On the repetition of words in priestly texts, see Gesenius’ Hebrew Grammar, 2nd English edn., trans. A. E. Cowley (Oxford: Clarendon, 1910), section 123d, 396. In note 2, Gesenius explains that this particular repetition “serves to give greater solemnity to the promise” unless it is merely dittography. This repetition is absent in LXX. 12. NJPS translation. 13. Exodus 19 may be read metaphorically as the marriage ceremony. Consider also Rashi’s comments on Exod 31:18, s.v. kekhaloto and on 34:1, s.v. pesol lekha. 14. Matia ben Heresh was active in Rome before the Bar Kochva revolt of 132–​135 ce. Hermann Leberecht Strack and Günter Stemberger, Introduction to the Talmud and Midrash, trans. Markus Bockmuehl (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1992), 75. 15. Mekhilta, tractate Pisha, on Exod 12:6. Adapted from Lauterbach’s translation, 1:33–​34. 16. See Strack and Stemberger, Introduction, 328–​330; Eliezer Treitl, Pirke De-​Rabbi Eliezer: Text, Redaction and a Sample Synopsis (Jerusalem: The Hebrew University Department of Talmud and Halakha and the Institute for Research of Eretz Israel, 2012), 9–​16. 17. The Hebrew word for “bloods” in this verse pointedly employs Hebrew’s dual grammatical form, rather than the more common plural form. 18. PRE 29:10–​11. Gerald Friedlander, ed. and trans., Pirke De Rabbi Eliezer (New York: Hermon, 1965), 210. 19. Cohen, “Brief History,” 37. 20. Cohen, “Brief History,” 37. Contra Hoffman, who argued that the power of blood in Judaism goes back to ancient times. Lawrence A. Hoffman, Covenant of Blood: Circumcision and Gender in Rabbinic Judaism (Chicago Studies In the History of Judaism; Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996). 21. The antecedents of the masculine pronouns in these few Hebrew verses are quite ambiguous. For one analysis, see Tikva Frymer-​Kensky, Reading the Women of the Bible: A New Interpretation of Their Stories (New York: Schocken, 2004), 28–​32. 22. This is the earliest instance of any emphasis on the blood of circumcision, according to Cohen. 23. Ezekiel 16:6 has a similarly strong connection to the blood of the paschal sacrifice. It was likewise eventually incorporated into the Passover Haggadah. Space does not allow me to treat both topics; I will discuss elsewhere its appearance in the Haggadah. 24. Like other texts produced in medieval Ashkenaz, this work continued to accrue material after its initial “publication.” On Rashi, see Avraham Grossman, Rashi, trans. Joel Linsider (Portland: Oxford University Press, 2012). The best manuscript of Maḥzor Vitry, from which I quote herein, is the thirteenth-​century “Reggio MS,” JTSA MS 8902, viewable online through the Jewish Theological Seminary Library. Its text is to be preferred to the printed edition, from which it differs significantly. My thanks to Pinchas Roth for directing me to this manuscript; Beit-​Arie, Malachi, “Publication and Reproduction of Literary Texts in Medieval Jewish Civilization,” In Transmitting Jewish Traditions: Orality, Textuality, and Cultural Diffusion, edited by Yaakov. Elman and I. Gershoni, 225–​47 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2000). 25. JTSA MS 8902 163b–​164a. 26. Except for my rendering of the quoted Ezekiel verse, the translation of this prayer is that of Jonathan Sacks in The Koren Siddur: With Introduction, Translation and Commentary by Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks (Jerusalem: Koren, 2009), 1018.

378   Yedida Eisenstat 27. While in a slightly different order, the elements of this liturgy are very much the same in the traditional Ashkenazic Orthodox ritual today. Sacks, Koren Siddur, 1018. 28. Cohen, “Brief History,” 31. In Cohen’s treatment of the question of when in the course of history the blood of circumcision became significant, he is responding to Lawrence Hoffman’s earlier, now largely rejected, claim that the significance of the blood and accompanying liturgical inclusion of Ezek 16:6 in the concluding prayers of the circumcision ritual hark back to ancient times (Hoffman, Covenant of Blood). Cohen does acknowledge that the episode in Exodus 4 is an early and exceptional instance in which there is emphasis on the blood. 29. PRE 29:2. Friedlander trans., https://​www.sefa​ria.org/​Pir​kei_​DeRa​bbi_​Elie​zer.29.2?lang=​ bi&with=​About&lang2=​en 30. Elisabeth Hollender, “The Ritualization of Circumcision in Medieval Judaism in Relation to Islam and Christianity: An Overview,” Religion 42, no. 2 (2012): 236–​237. For another view, see Nissan Rubin, “Brit Milah: A Study of Change in Custom,” in The Covenant of Circumcision: New Perspectives on an Ancient Jewish Rite, ed. Elizabeth Wyner Mark (Brandeis Series on Jewish Women; Hanover, NH: Brandeis University Press, 2003), 87–​97. 31. BT Berakhot 51a–​52a. 32. Lev 23:13; Num 15:1–​12; Numbers 28–​29; Cohen, Jewish Women, 35 and notes. 33. Cohen, Jewish Women, 34–​35. 34. On the complexity of the question of who would drink from this cup, see Cohen, Jewish Women, 36. 35. On the symbolism of wine and blood in the Christian world, see David Biale, Blood and Belief: The Circulation of a Symbol Between Jews and Christians (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2008). 36. On Jewish migration into northern Europe, see most recently ­chapter 8 of Robert Chazan, Refugees or Migrants: Pre-​Modern Jewish Population Movement (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2018). 37. On the emergence of circumcision as a marker of Jewish identity, see c­ hapter 4 of Shaye J. D. Cohen, The Beginnings of Jewishness: Boundaries, Varieties, Uncertainties (Hellenistic Culture and Society 31; Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999). 38. In the New Testament, see Paul’s letter to the Galatians, the letter of James, and Acts 15. 39. These were written in the mid-​twelfth century and recount the violence perpetrated against the Jewish communities of Ashkenaz during the First Crusade. 40. Elisheva Baumgarten, “Marking the Flesh: Circumcision, Blood and Inscribing Identity on the Body in Medieval Jewish Culture,” Micrologus 13 (2005): 313–​314. 41. On the social and economic factors in the deterioration of relations, see Robert Chazan, Reassessing Jewish Life in Medieval Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010); on the religious factors involved, see Jeremy Cohen, The Friars and the Jews: The Evolution of Medieval Anti-​Judaism (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1982). 42. Rosemary Radford Ruether, “The Adversus Judaeos Tradition in the Church Fathers: The Exegesis of Christian Anti-​Judaism,” in Essential Papers on Judaism and Christianity in Conflict: From Late Antiquity to the Reformation, ed. Jeremy Cohen (New York: NYU Press, 1991), 176. Her monograph on this topic is Rosemary Ruether, Faith and Fratricide: The Theological Roots of Anti-​Semitism (Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 1996). 43. On the history of the dangerous accusation of deicide, from the Gospels through modernity, see Jeremy Cohen, Christ-​Killers: The Jews and the Passion from the Bible to the Big Screen (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007).

Ezekiel in the Jewish Tradition    379 44. Guibert of Nogent, “De vita sua sive Monodiae,” 2.5, ed. and trans. E.-​R. Labande, Les Classiques de l’Histoire de France au Moyen Age (Paris, 1981), 34:246–​248; trans. in John F. Benton, ed., Self and Society in Medieval France: The Memoirs of Abbot Guibert of Nogent (1970; repr. Toronto, 1984), 134–​135; as cited in Jeremy Cohen, “Christian Theology and Anti-​Jewish Violence in the Middle Ages: Connections and Disjunctions,” in Religious Violence Between Christians and Jews: Medieval Roots, Modern Perspectives, ed. Anna Sapir Abulafia (New York: Palgrave, 2002), 47. 45. Robert Chazan, European Jewry and the First Crusade (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1996), 225. See also Robert Chazan, “The Anti-​Jewish Violence of 1096: Perpetrators and Dynamics,” in Religious Violence Between Christians and Jews: Medieval Roots, Modern Perspectives, ed. Anna Sapir Abulafia (New York: Palgrave, 2002), 21–​43; and Cohen, “Christian Theology.” 46. For a concise articulation of the doctrine of witness, see Jeremy Cohen, “Alterity and Self-​Legitimation: The Jew as Other in Classical and Medieval Christianity,” in The Jew as Legitimation: Jewish-​Gentile Relations Beyond Antisemitism and Philosemitism, ed. David J. Wertheim (New York: Nature America, 2016), 33–​35. For a book-​length treatment, see Jeremy Cohen, Living Letters of the Law: Ideas of the Jew in Medieval Christianity (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999). Alternatively, ­chapter 2 of Robert Chazan, Reassessing Jewish Life in Medieval Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010). For another view, see Kenneth Stow, Jewish Dogs: An Image and its Interpreters (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2006). 47. BT Berakhot 52a. 48. JTSA MS 8902, 164a. 49. For more about Joseph Kara, one may turn to Avraham Grossman, “The School of Literal Exegesis in Northern France,” in Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament: The History of Its Interpretation. Volume 1: From the Beginnings to the Middle Ages (Until 1300). Part 2: The Middle Ages, ed. Magne Sæbø et al. (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000), 346–​356. The text of Joseph Kara’s Ezekiel commentary may be accessed digitally at alhatorah.org. 50. I am grateful to Amy-​Jill Levine and Marc Zvi Brettler for sharing their primer on this subject, “Drink My Blood” from their forthcoming, The Bible With and Without Jesus: How Jews and Christians Read the Same Stories Differently (New York City: HarperCollins, 2020), 219–​253. 51. Trans. Sacks, Koren Siddur, 1018. On the use of concatenated unadapted biblical verses in Jewish prayer, see Ruth Langer, “Biblical Texts in Jewish Prayers: Their History and Function,” in Jewish and Christian Liturgy and Worship: New Insights into Its History and Interaction, eds. Albert Gerhards and Albert Leonhard (Boston: Brill, 2007), 63–​90. 52. Consider Jeremy Cohen’s helpful construct of the “hermeneutic Jew,” in his Living Letters of the Law. 53. On the two religious communities’ mutual influence, see David Shyovitz, “Christians and Jews in the Twelfth-​Century Werewolf Renaissance,” Journal of the History of Ideas 75, no. 4 (2014): 521–​543; and Elisheva Baumgarten, Mothers and Children: Jewish Family Life in Medieval Europe (Jews, Christians, and Muslims From the Ancient to the Modern World; Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2004). On Christian influence on Jewish ritual, see Ivan G. Marcus, Rituals of Childhood: Jewish Culture and Acculturation in the Middle Ages (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1996), or his chapter, “Jewish-​Christian Symbiosis: The Culture of Early Ashkenaz,” in Cultures of the Jews, ed. David Biale (New York: Schocken Books, 2002), 449–​518.

380   Yedida Eisenstat 54. For current revisionist positions, see Nirenberg, Communities of Violence: Persecution of Minorities in the Middle Ages (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2015), and Malkiel, “Historiography Essay: Jewish-​Christian Relations in Europe, 840–​1096,” Journal of Medieval History 29 (2003): 55–​83. 55. Jonathan Elukin, Living Together Living Apart (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2013) 56. Elisheva Baumgarten, “Circumcision and Baptism: The Development of a Jewish Ritual in Christian Europe,” in The Covenant of Circumcision: New Perspectives on an Ancient Jewish Rite, ed. Elizabeth Wyner Mark (Brandeis Series on Jewish Women; Hanover, NH: Brandeis University Press, 2003), 114–​127; and ­chapter 2 of her book Mothers and Children. 57. Baumgarten, Mothers and Children, 64. 58. BT Shabbat 137b and Rashi’s comment, s.v. mishaḥat. On the concepts of heaven and hell in Judaism and Christianity, see Alan F. Segal, Life After Death: A History of the Afterlife in Western Religion (New York: Doubleday, 2004). 59. For a list of places where this midrash appears in the medieval period, see Baumgarten, “Marking the Flesh,” 319n18. 60. Genesis Rabba 48:8. My translation. 61. On the post-​mortem circumcision of male Jewish babies who died before they could be circumcised, see Baumgarten, “Marking the Flesh,” 319. See also Israel Elfenbein, ed., Teshuvot Rashi (New York: Shulsinger Bros., 1943), 40. 62. According to Jewish law, it is a father’s obligation to circumcise his son, thereby bringing him into the covenant. If the father is unavailable to do this, the obligation falls to the community. If the community does not fulfill this obligation, a Jewish man is ultimately responsible to ensure that he is marked with the sign of the covenant (Shulḥan Arukh, Yoreh De‘ah: 260–​261). 63. The “Rules of Circumcision” appear within a larger work co-​written by Jacob and his son Gershom. Jacob haGozer, Kelalei Milah, in Zikhron Berit Larishonim, ed. Jacob Glassberg (Krakow: Fisher, 1892), 1:3–​123. 64. PRE 29:10 Friedlander trans., https://​www.sefa​ria.org/​Pir​kei_​DeRa​bbi_​Elie​zer.29.10?lang=​ en&with=​all&lang2=​en 65. See ­chapter 1 of Jacob Yuval, Two Nations in Your Womb: Perceptions of Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006). 66. PRE 29:12. Friedlander trans., https://​www.sefa​ria.org/​Pir​kei_​DeRa​bbi_​Elie​zer.29.12?lang=​ en&with=​all&lang2=​en

Bibliography Baumgarten, Elisheva. “Circumcision and Baptism: The Development of a Jewish Ritual in Christian Europe.” In The Covenant of Circumcision: New Perspectives on an Ancient Jewish Rite, edited by Elizabeth Wyner Mark, 114–​127. Brandeis Series on Jewish Women. Hanover, NH: Brandeis University Press, 2003. Baumgarten, Elisheva. “Marking the Flesh: Circumcision, Blood and Inscribing Identity on the Body in Medieval Jewish Culture.” Micrologus 13 (2005): 313–​330. Baumgarten, Elisheva. Mothers and Children: Jewish Family Life in Medieval Europe. Jews, Christians, and Muslims from the Ancient to the Modern World. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004.

Ezekiel in the Jewish Tradition    381 Benton, John F., ed. Self and Society in Medieval France: The Memoirs of Abbot Guibert of Nogent. Translated by C. C. Swinton Bland. Medieval Academy Reprints for Teaching 15. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1984. Biale, David. Blood and Belief: The Circulation of a Symbol between Jews and Christians. The S. Mark Taper Foundation Imprint in Jewish Studies. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2008. Chazan, Robert. “The Anti-​Jewish Violence of 1096: Perpetrators and Dynamics.” In Religious Violence Between Christians and Jews: Medieval Roots, Modern Perspectives, edited by Anna Sapir Abulafia, 21–​43. New York: Palgrave, 2002. Chazan, Robert. European Jewry and the First Crusade. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1996. Chazan, Robert. Reassessing Jewish Life in Medieval Europe. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010. Chazan, Robert. Refugees or Migrants: Pre-​Modern Jewish Population Movement. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2018. Cohen, Jeremy. The Friars and the Jews: The Evolution of Medieval Anti-​Judaism. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1982. Cohen, Jeremy. Living Letters of the Law: Ideas of the Jew in Medieval Christianity. The S. Mark Taper Foundation Imprint in Jewish Studies. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999. Cohen, Jeremy. “Alterity and Self-​Legitimation: The Jew as Other in Classical and Medieval Christianity.” In The Jew as Legitimation: Jewish-​Gentile Relations beyond Antisemitism and Philosemitism, edited by David J. Wertheim, 33–​46. New York: Nature America, 2016. Cohen, Jeremy. Christ-​Killers: The Jews and the Passion from the Bible to the Big Screen. New York: Oxford University Press, 2007. Cohen, Jeremy. “Christian Theology and Anti-​ Jewish Violence in the Middle Ages: Connections and Disjunctions.” In Religious Violence Between Christians and Jews: Medieval Roots, Modern Perspectives, edited by Anna Sapir Abulafia, 44–​60. New York: Palgrave, 2002. Cohen, Jeremy. “A 1096 Complex: Constructing the First Crusade in Jewish Historical Memory, Medieval and Modern.” In Jews and Christians in Twelfth-​Century Europe, edited by Michael Alan Signer and John van Enger, 9–​26. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame, 2001. Cohen, Shaye J. D. The Beginnings of Jewishness: Boundaries, Varieties, Uncertainties. Hellenistic Culture and Society 31. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999. Cohen, Shaye J. D. “A Brief History of Jewish Circumcision Blood.” In The Covenant of Circumcision: New Perspectives on an Ancient Jewish Rite, edited by Elizabeth Wyner Mark, 30–​42. Brandeis Series on Jewish Women. Hanover, NH: Brandeis University Press, 2003. Cohen, Shaye J. D. Why Aren’t Jewish Women Circumcised: Gender and Covenant in Judaism. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005. Elfenbein, Israel, ed. Teshuvot Rashi (New York: Shulsinger Bros., 1943), #40. Elukin, Jonathan. Living Together, Living Apart. Princeton University Press, 2013. Fishbane, Michael A. The JPS Bible Commentary: Haftarot. Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 2002. Friedlander, Gerald, ed. and trans. Pirke De Rabbi Eliezer. New York: Hermon, 1965. Frymer-​Kensky, Tikva. Reading the Women of the Bible: A New Interpretation of Their Stories. New York: Schocken, 2004. Gesenius, Wilhelm, and Emil Kautzsch. Gesenius’ Hebrew Grammar. 2nd English edn. Translated by A. E. Cowley. Oxford: Clarendon, 1910.

382   Yedida Eisenstat Grossman, Avraham. “The School of Literal Exegesis in Northern France.” In Hebrew Bible/​ Old Testament: The History of Its Interpretation. Volume 1: From the Beginnings to the Middle Ages (Until 1300). Part 2: The Middle Ages, edited by Magne Sæbø, C. Brekelmans, Menahem Haran, and Micahel A. Fishbane, 346–​356. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000. Grossman, Avraham. Rashi. Translated by Joel Linsider. Portland: Oxford University Press, 2012. Hoffman, Lawrence A. Covenant of Blood: Circumcision and Gender in Rabbinic Judaism. Chicago Studies in the History of Judaism. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996. Hollender, Elisabeth. “The Ritualization of Circumcision in Medieval Judaism in Relation to Islam and Christianity: An Overview.” Religion 42, no. 2 (2012): 233–​246. Jacob ha Gozer. Kelalei Milah [Rules of Circumcision]. In Sefer Zikhron Berit Larishonim, edited by Jacob Glassberg, 1:3–​123. Krakow: Fisher, 1892. Lauterbach, Jacob Z. Mekhilta De-​ Rabbi Ishmael. Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 2010. Levine, Amy-​Jill, and Marc Zvi Brettler. The Bible With and Without Jesus: How Jews and Christians Read the Same Stories Differently. New York City: HarperCollins, 2020. Malkiel, David J. “Historiography Essay: Jewish-​Christian Relations in Europe, 840–​1096.” Journal of Medieval History 29 (2003): 55–​83. Marcus, Ivan G. “Jewish-​Christian Symbiosis: The Culture of Early Ashkenaz.” In Cultures of the Jews: A New History, edited by David Biale, 449–​518. New York: Schocken, 2002. Marcus, Ivan G. Rituals of Childhood: Jewish Culture and Acculturation in the Middle Ages. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1996. Mroczek, Eva. The Literary Imagination in Jewish Antiquity. New York: Oxford University Press, 2016. Nirenberg, David. Communities of Violence: Persecution of Minorities in the Middle Ages. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2015. Rubin, Nissan. “Brit Milah: A Study of Change in Custom.” In The Covenant of Circumcision: New Perspectives on an Ancient Jewish Rite, edited by Elizabeth Wyner Mark, 87–​97. Brandeis Series on Jewish Women. Hanover, NH: Brandeis University Press, 2003. Ruether, Rosemary. Faith and Fratricide: The Theological Roots of Anti-​Semitism. Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 1996. Ruether, Rosemary Radford. “The Adversus Judaeos Tradition in the Church Fathers: The Exegesis of Christian Anti-​Judaism.” In Essential Papers on Judaism and Christianity in Conflict: From Late Antiquity to the Reformation, ed. Jeremy Cohen, 174–​189. New York: New York University Press, 1991. Sacks, Jonathan. The Koren Siddur: With Introduction, Translation and Commentary. Jerusalem: Koren Publishers, 2009. Satlow, Michael L. How the Bible Became Holy. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2014. Segal, Alan F. Life After Death: A History of the Afterlife in Western Religion. New York: Doubleday, 2004. Shyovitz, David. “Christians and Jews in the Twelfth-​Century Werewolf Renaissance,” Journal of the History of Ideas 75, no. 4 (2014): 521–​543. Simḥah ben Samuel. Maḥzor Vitry le rabbenu Simḥah. Edited by Simeon Horovitz. Jerusalem: Makhon le-​Hotsaat Sefarim, 1963. Stow, Kenneth. Jewish Dogs: An Image and its Interpreters. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2006.

Ezekiel in the Jewish Tradition    383 Strack, Hermann Leberecht, and Günter Stemberger. Introduction to the Talmud and Midrash. Translated and edited by Markus Bockmuehl. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1992. Treitl, Eliezer. Pirke De-​Rabbi Eliezer: Text, Redaction and a Sample Synopsis. Jerusalem: The Hebrew University Department of Talmud and Halakha and the Institute for Research of Eretz Israel, 2012. Yuval, Jacob. Two Nations in Your Womb: Perceptions of Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006.

Chapter 20

Where There ’ s Fi re There’s Smoke Text and Image in the Ezekiel Painting at Dura-​Europos Margaret S. Odell

Ever since the emergence of Jewish and Christian figural traditions in the late second century ce, the book of Ezekiel has made small but significant contributions to Jewish and Christian art. In the wall paintings of the synagogue at Dura-​Europos (245–​256 ce), still the earliest extant example of Jewish figural painting, Ezekiel’s vision of the valley of dry bones fills an entire register along one wall, indicating that for this community at least, the vision constituted a focal point in its liturgical life. Ezekiel is no less significant for the Christian figural-​liturgical tradition. After the resolution of the Nicene controversies concerning the relation of Christ’s human and divine natures in the mid-​fourth century, Ezekiel’s vision of the glory of God in ­chapter 1 became the basis for the Christ in Majesty motif, by far the best-​known iconographic motif in the medieval world.1 Interest in the prophet and his book persists into the modern world albeit in more secular treatments of motifs and themes. David Bomberg’s cubist Vision of Ezekiel (1912) renders the resurrection of dry bones as an exuberant triumph of the human spirit over the soul-​crushing machinery of the industrial age. Samuel Jackson’s garbled quotation of Ezekiel 25:17 in Quentin Tarantino’s 1994 film Pulp Fiction puts a new twist on questions of vengeance and morality. Goshka Macuga’s 2016 exhibit To the Son of Man Who Ate the Scroll featured the work of some forty artists on the theme of civilizational collapse and renewal, thus evincing an ongoing fascination with Ezekiel’s own dislocations in another time of political and societal upheaval.2 Never mere illustrations of the biblical text, artistic representations are always interpretive and hermeneutical artifacts. The influential art historian Paulo Berdini calls the artist’s rendering of a biblical text “visual exegesis;”3 paintings are representations

Where There’s Fire There’s Smoke    385 of the artist’s reading of the text and not the text itself. Berdini therefore construes the critic’s task as a series of related investigations. These include an examination of the artist’s own interpretive rendering of the biblical text, an investigation of the social and political contexts contributing to the artist’s interpretation of the text, and, finally, a consideration of the image’s impact on the viewer.4 Berdini’s approach to biblical art thus resembles the triad of author-​text-​reader familiar to biblical interpreters, with the caveat that the text in question, the painting, remains tethered to the biblical text it is interpreting. Whether the artwork is tightly tied or more loosely related depends on a host of factors, including the art’s function, the artist’s cultural context, the nature of patronage, and the degree to which the artist is controlled by that relationship or given free rein to exercise the imagination. The narrative paintings in the Dura-​Europos Synagogue appear to follow biblical narratives quite closely, and it has been suggested that this fidelity to the narrative is due to their role in assisting in the oral recitation of the narratives.5 Liturgical function plays a role in the development of the Christ in Majesty motif as well. In this motif, the risen Christ appears enthroned within a mandorla surrounded by the four living creatures, which since Irenaeus had been associated in the Christian tradition with the four Evangelists (Adversus Haeresis III.11.8). In addition, such elements as the rainbow, eyes, and wheels, and even, in some instances, the representation of the prophet Ezekiel beside the River Chebar, indicate the strong dependence on Ezekiel 1. Often appearing in apses, the Christ in Majesty motif evoked a sense of revelation and divine presence in worship. The Christological emphasis quite obviously departs from the plain meaning of Ezekiel 1; however, this rendering of Ezekiel 1 reflects the Christian practice of interpreting the Jewish scriptures typologically while also visually representing the incarnate Christ as the “image” of the invisible God (Col 1:15). Standing within this long stream of liturgical tradition but privileging his own mystical experience, William Blake’s fantastic representation of Ezekiel’s cherubim as colossally strong human men reflects more of his own imaginative vision, even as it is clearly an interpretive rendering of Ezekiel 1.6 The relationship between text and image is therefore quite fluid, and critical treatments of this relationship depend not only on the particular instances of art and text, but also on the critics’ own questions about the locus of meaning. Taking his cue from Berdini’s work, for example, Martin O’Kane is primarily interested in the painting’s interpretive impact on the viewer’s experience of biblical narrative.7 Acknowledging the usefulness of Berdini’s model but resisting its tendency to privilege the artist’s exegesis over the text, Cheryl Exum uses biblical art to return to the text. Calling her approach “visual criticism,” Exum urges the establishment of a “genuine dialogue” between the biblical text and artistic representation, such that both “play an equal and critical role in interpreting each other.” In such a dialogue, the critic examines the painting for the artist’s treatment of interpretive cruxes, always with the aim of understanding the biblical text more fully. Such an approach, she suggests, should become part of the interpreter’s exegetical toolbox in efforts to understand the biblical text.8

386   Margaret S. Odell If, as Exum suggests, a visual motif draws attention to an artist’s solution to an interpretive problem, it is also the case that the proper interpretation of biblical art requires a knowledge of its textual antecedent. In order to demonstrate that point, I will examine a test case in the earliest extant representation of Ezekiel, that of the painting of Ezekiel’s prophecy to the dry bones in the Dura-​Europos Synagogue. In this painting, problems of interpretation remain unresolved precisely because critics have found it impossible to establish a correlation between one section of the painting and its source in Ezekiel. In order to address this problem, I will show how Exum’s strategy of establishing dialogue between text and image not only serves to highlight problems in a text that an artist seeks to resolve, but also illustrates how the biblical text remains indispensable for interpreting the art it inspires. In the process of resolving this crux in interpretation, however, I will also show how a proper interpretation of the painting in relation to its antecedent text returns us to larger questions of its significance for its original viewers, as well as for our own critical questions about the locus of meaning in the interpretation of ancient texts and images. The Ezekiel painting figures prominently in the elaborate cycle of historical paintings filling the walls of the synagogue in Dura-​Europos, a mid-​sized trading and fortress town on the west bank of the Euphrates River in northern Syria. In his report on the excavations of the city from 1928–​1937 by Yale University and the French Academy of Inscriptions and Letters, Carl Kraeling noted that the city had been in existence since the Hellenistic era but was in Roman hands from 135 bce until its destruction in 256 ce.9 The excavations uncovered numerous temples, a mithraeum, a Christian baptistery, and the synagogue, thereby revealing a remarkably cosmopolitan and religiously diverse town. Archaeological investigations were reopened in 1986 with the purpose of reconstructing the origins of the city, documenting buildings that had been uncovered in the earlier expeditions but not studied, and preserving monuments threatened by environmental deterioration.10 Satellite images taken in 2015 indicate that the site is now cratered, a result of attacks a few years earlier by ISIS.11 The synagogue’s wall paintings were removed during the initial excavations and are now on exhibit at the National Museum of Damascus. As far as the synagogue is concerned, its discovery remains a touchstone for questions of diaspora Jewish religious practice and identity. Among the first of the archaeological finds attesting to the flowering of a Jewish figural tradition in Late Antiquity, the synagogue and its wall paintings remain the most significant find of that period. Although the decorative material on the east wall was largely destroyed in antiquity, as much as 60% of the paintings on the remaining three walls survived, in many cases with the original colors intact. The focal point of the decorative program was the Torah niche on the center of the west wall. Surrounding this focal point and filling all four walls were three horizontal registers of paintings containing a variety of historical scenes. For the most part, the paintings feature biblical narratives which show signs of having been adapted and combined through liturgy and haggadah—​a feature already indicating a complex process of interpretation and reception.12 Kära Schenk describes the creative process:

Where There’s Fire There’s Smoke    387 The creation of the images likely depended on this tradition as it was communicated orally by members of the synagogue community to the workshop responsible for the synagogue decoration. This workshop, in turn, appears to have drawn from a repertoire of locally available pictorial sources that were transformed for the synagogue context.13

In such a setting, Berdini’s concept of visual exegesis may well be an anachronism, since the workshop’s craftsmen14 were not themselves engaged in puzzling out the meaning of texts. I therefore use the term “artist” advisedly but for the sake of convenience in order to refer to the creative processes of interpretation and execution resulting in the finished painting. In addition to the Ezekiel painting, the scenes include, among others, Jacob’s dream at Bethel, the rescue of Moses from the Nile and the exodus from Egypt, the miraculous well in the wilderness, the Philistine capture of the ark, Samuel’s anointing of David, scenes from the Elijah cycle, and Mordechai’s triumph. One prominent panel on the west wall contains a representation of the so-​called Closed Temple. Although this temple has been identified as either Solomon’s Temple or the eschatological temple, Warren Moon has argued that its representation of nude figures on the temple doors more likely indicates a pagan temple.15 Until recently, the number of scenes in which righteous women play a prominent role has received relatively little attention. Modestly dressed Hebrew women look on as the nude Egyptian princess brings Moses up from the Nile.16 Esther models faithful courage in the midst of pagan persecution. The pagan widow of Zarephath is prominently featured on the west wall as the prophet Elijah raises her dead son to life. This apparently random selection of subjects and narratives initially left scholars at a loss to explain the overall theme or themes of the paintings. No less than 10 major studies have been conducted, yet by the end of the twentieth century none had fully resolved the questions of coherence and design.17 Among these, E. R. Goodenough’s interpretation of the paintings as evidence of a heterogeneous Jewish mystical interpretation of the Bible has not proven convincing.18 Kraeling’s comprehensive report on the synagogue remains the starting point for any study of the paintings; however, his construal of the paintings as a salvation-​historical narrative now appears in retrospect to reflect themes of the mid-​twentieth century American biblical theology movement. More recently, art historians have taken up the question of how the paintings address the problem of Jewish identity in the religiously plural context of Dura-​Europos;19 this approach reflects emerging new trends in the study of art in the late antique Mediterranean world, not to mention our current preoccupation with questions of identity.20 Taking up Joseph Gutman’s earlier work, Steven Fine has revived Gutman’s suggestion of the paintings’ connection to liturgical practice. Warren Moon has called attention to the pronounced treatment of pagan worship through the motif of nudity. Employing the postcolonial tropes of resistance and the “potential of art for the creation of alternative spaces” for the cultivation of identity, Jás Elsner draws attention to

388   Margaret S. Odell the ways in which the cult spaces in Dura not only resisted Roman domination but also countered the appeal of competing cults. Detecting an “actively antipagan imagery” in the synagogue paintings, he suggests they “appear to present a visual meditation on temples—​pagan and Jewish—​and to make the case for one over the other in no uncertain terms.”21 Elsner further suggests that biblical scenes devoted to the destruction of the Philistine god Dagon and the contest with the prophets at Mount Carmel constituted an “active and aggressive commentary on local religion.”22 Drawing on Joseph Gutman’s emphasis on the synagogue as a “small sanctuary” where Jews could continue to worship God after the destruction of the Second Temple, Kära Schenk focuses on the way in which the synagogue community interacts with the paintings as a “holy people” [italics hers] who through liturgy enter the paintings’ imaginative spaces.23 Faith Steinberg argues that the paintings’ emphasis on women’s piety explicitly seeks to counter the appeal of Christianity, where women played a prominent role in Christian narrative as well as in the visual representations in the baptistery, constructed just twelve years before the synagogue embarked on its own program of renovation and redecoration.24 This Ezekiel scholar immediately recognizes Gutman’s allusion to the “small sanctuary” of Ezekiel 11:16 and wonders whether the Ezekiel painting contributes in any meaningful way to these newer studies. Strangely, it does not, even though it is arguably the most prominent painting of the entire program. It is by far the largest: at 7.46 meters long by 1.26 meters high, it runs the entire length of the north wall in the lower-​most register.25 Situated at eye level, the painting’s sparse backgrounds and monumentally sharp portrayals of human figures and symbolic elements make it among the most visually arresting of the synagogue paintings. The artist has divided the panel into three sections (hereafter designated A, B, and C, following Kraeling) and has indicated the differences between them with the use of different background colors. The light backgrounds of A and C indicate they should be read together (Figs. 20.1 and 20.4), while the reddish background in section B highlights it as the climactic scene (Figs. 20.2 and 20.3). However, since the interpretation of section C remains unresolved, critics have overlooked its significance as the interpretive key to the entire painting. By addressing this crux in interpretation, I hope to show that the Ezekiel painting both articulates the theme of Jewish identity in a pagan context while also providing a distinctly Jewish vision of resurrection to new life. By correlating the visual elements in sections A and B with the text of Ezekiel 37, critics early identified the painting as a visual retelling of the narrative of Ezekiel’s vision of the valley of dry bones. The artists have represented the vision in cartoon style in a succession of six scenes. Kraeling explicitly links these scenes with Ezekiel 37:1–​2, 4–​7a, 7b–​8, 9–​10a, 10b–​14, and 21–​24, and shows how each scene represents the prophet responding to divine commands. Over the course of sections A and B, the prophet appears six times in a rapid succession of poses, gestures, and even clothing, while the slain of the house of Israel are represented in various stages of dismemberment, reconstitution, and revivication. Two particular features of section A are relevant for the present discussion. First, the prophet is set down amid dismembered hands, heads, and feet—​not bones, as one might expect (Fig. 20.1). Second, the hand of God carries Ezekiel by the hair. Since

Figure 20.1.  Ezekiel, the Destruction and Resurrection of the House of Israel, section A, scenes 1–​3. Reproduced by permission from: Carl H. Kraeling, The Synagogue (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1956).

Figure 20.2.  Ezekiel, the Destruction and Resurrection of the House of Israel, section B, scenes 1–​2. Reproduced by permission from: Carl H. Kraeling, The Synagogue (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1956).

Figure 20.3.  Ezekiel, the Destruction and Resurrection of the House of Israel, section B, scenes 3–​4. Reproduced by permission from: Carl H. Kraeling, The Synagogue (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1956).

Figure 20.4.  Ezekiel, the Destruction and Resurrection of the House of Israel, section C. Reproduced by permission from: Carl H. Kraeling, The Synagogue (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1956).

Where There’s Fire There’s Smoke    391 Ezekiel 37:1–​2 does not mention this mode of transport, Kraeling suggested that the artists incorporated that motif from 8:3. The intrusion of a motif from Ezekiel 8 may be a clue to the content of the ambiguous section C, and I will return to this point later in the chapter. Earlier critics treated unusual features in the paintings as artistic solutions to problems of visual representation. For example, Kraeling argued that the representation of mountains in scene 3 of section A (hereafter A3), signified the earthquake in 37:7 as the means whereby the bones came together (Fig. 20.1). The artists represent the earthquake by way of two additional elements, a black cleft between the mountains and an inverted masonry structure in the upper right. A second artistic solution to the problem of visual representation may also be evident in the representation of the resurrected house of Israel as 10 men (Fig. 20.3). Although these explanations have been generally persuasive, they reflect the assumption that each aspect of an artist’s representation constitutes an attempt to illustrate a specific textual element. Annabel Wharton has taken such treatments of the entire Durene cycle to task, arguing that this approach reflects a scholarly attempt to control meaning through the imposition of text. She contends that such approaches treat the cycle as mere illustration, and she challenges interpreters to pay closer attention to the network of visual symbols whose juxtapositions and interrelationships constitute a form of visual discourse.26 On the other hand, it is also possible that critics’ ad hoc explanations of apparently visually extraneous elements have led them to overlook more complex relationships between image and text. Indeed one wonders whether the portrayal of the mountains of Israel in scene A3 does not indicate a more sophisticated reading of the book of Ezekiel as a whole. For example, the inverted crenellated structure in the upper right corner is hardly necessary to portray the earthquake, since the black cleft between the riven mountains would be sufficient. Furthermore, if one takes up Wharton’s suggestion to read visual symbols in relation to one another, one observes that elsewhere in the synagogue paintings, crenellated masonry structures signify city walls and towns. The inversion of such a structure in this scene could therefore represent the destruction of an entire city and may even metonymically represent the destruction of all the cities and towns of Judah. Rather than indicating an earthquake, the masonry structure more likely signifies past destruction. Another peculiarity is also worth noting. It is only in this scene that bones appear, albeit in limited number, and faintly, as four rib bones along the bottom of the painting. The fact that the artists could draw bones but chose not to in a painting devoted to a narrative about bones should give critics pause. It is more likely that the iconographic elements in this scene—​mountains, a toppled city, bones, and slain dismembered corpses—​indicate that the artists are reading Ezekiel 37 in connection with Ezekiel 6, Ezekiel’s announcement of judgment against the mountains of Israel. The sin of idolatry motivates that judgment: corpses and bones of the slaughtered idolaters will be scattered around the altars; towns will be laid waste, altars ruined, and idols broken and destroyed (6:5). Against Wharton’s contention that attention to the text hinders interpretation,

392   Margaret S. Odell reading scene A3 in light of Ezekiel 6 allows us to understand the artists’ strategies of interpretation. In this particular scene, it is more likely that the artists have interpreted Ezekiel 37 as a reversal of the divine judgment against idolatry announced in Ezekiel 6. If scene A3 interprets c­ hapter 37 as the reversal of God’s judgment of idolatry, the problematic section C must somehow represent the practice and judgment of idolatry itself. As in sections A and B, this section contains multiple elements, and the question is whether they are to be read cartoon style from left to right, as in the first two sections of the Ezekiel painting, or together, as representing a single moment in time. In the center is an altar above or behind which appears a tent-​like structure with an opening. Although the tent appears to rest on top of the altar, its similarity to other such structures in the painting of the wilderness encampment portrayed on the west wall suggests that it represents a full-​sized structure, perhaps a building or a room. In the tent’s opening, cult implements appear against a black background—​two gold bowls, a table, and a thymiaterion, or incense burner. Although there is nothing explicitly idolatrous about any of these elements, the representation of cult vessels in a doorway against a darkened background appears elsewhere only in the representation of the temple of Dagon in the middle register on the west wall. Moreover, an identically structured beveled altar with yellowish coloration appears in the Elijah cycle in the two successive scenes related to the contest with the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel. Iconographically speaking, the altar and tent appear to signify the practice of idolatry; what remains difficult to determine is how to correlate these elements with any biblical text, Ezekiel or otherwise. A similar ambiguity is evident in the portrayal of action to the left and right of the altar. To the left of the altar appear two human figures, one dressed in the Persian costume of tunic and trousers, the other in full military regalia. The man dressed in Persian garments kneels at the altar with his arms reaching toward it. Although he is in three-​ quarter profile, his face is turned to face the viewers. His hairstyle, a full head of curly black hair, is awkwardly asymmetrical, being too narrow on the left side and too full on the right. From behind, the military figure grabs him by the shoulders, evidently tearing him away from the altar’s protection. The scene to the right of the altar is badly preserved. An earlier version of the scene has bled through flaking paint, making it difficult to decipher either the original or the final version. In both versions, the two men are wearing Persian garments, though the tunic of the man to the right is more elaborate, with broad gold trim at the lower edge. In the original version, the two men were both standing. The one to the right was wielding a sword overhead, while the one to the left was turning toward the altar. The final version portrays a violent execution. The figure wielding the sword now grips the other man by the hair, evidently preparing to decapitate him. The victim is bent at the waist. In an odd contortion, his face, like that of the kneeling man to the left of the altar, is awkwardly turned toward the viewers. In the background and adding to the menace of the scene are four advancing military figures who closely resemble the solitary military figure in the left foreground. From the outset, critics have interpreted the scene as an act of violence within the temple precincts and have proposed a wide range of biblical parallels ranging from

Where There’s Fire There’s Smoke    393 Benaiah’s assassination of Joab (1 Kgs 2:28–​35) to Mattathias’s slaughter of the idolater (1 Macc 2:24). In many cases, biblical parallels could explain one scene but not the composition as a whole. And none of these proposed solutions could explain why this scene would appear in a painting devoted to Ezekiel’s resurrection of the dry bones of the house of Israel.27 Amid this early critical confusion, Jacob Leveen proposed an elegant solution, suggesting that the constellation in section C of bronze altar, executioners, and man dressed in linen was based on Ezekiel 9:1–​6.28 Unfortunately, the connection was so obvious to him he did little to defend his claim. Leveen’s most serious omission was the failure to explain why he identified the man wielding the sword as the linen-​clothed man carrying a writing case in Ezekiel 9:2. In one schematic drawing of this scene, an object on the man’s left hip could be construed as a writing case;29 however, the object does not appear in photographs of the restored painting, and in any case, Leveen provided no support for his identification of the figure as the linen-​clothed man. Kraeling drew attention to other problems in Leveen’s proposal: he did not explain why five executioners were portrayed, not six as in Ezekiel 9:2. Leveen also failed to explain why the function of the man clothed in linen has been changed to that of executioner Kraeling did offer a midrashic parallel that would resolve some of these questions. The Midrash Rabbah to Lamentations 2:1 identified the linen-​clothed man as Gabriel, treated him as one of the six executioners, and described his roles as that of scribe, executioner, and high priest. Nevertheless, Kraeling rejected Leveen’s interpretation, the sticking point being a question of the degree to which the representation corresponded to the text of Ezekiel 9:1–​6, which explicitly portrays each of the executioners carrying his own weapon. But the fact remains that no one of the soldiers actually has in his hands the distinguishing “weapon of destruction,” this being monopolized by the figures (sic) in the foreground, and that on the hypothesis suggested, the artist must have invented the scene of the man being dragged from the altar as a way of expressing in graphic fashion the effort of the doomed Jerusalemites to escape from the imminent retribution. This is possible but not likely.30 In short, the artists needed to fully represent what Kraeling considered important in the text. Indeed, one wonders whether the need for multiple weapons in this scene contributed to Kraeling’s construal of plural weapons in the foreground when in fact only the linen-​clothed man and not the warrior wields the sword. On the other hand, as he himself acknowledged, not every scene in Ezekiel 37 was represented, and he apparently thought it permissible for the artists to depart from Ezekiel 37:7 in their representation of the mountains of Israel. Nevertheless, it remains the case that neither Leveen nor other critics had interpreted all of the elements in this section of the Ezekiel painting to anyone’s satisfaction. Kraeling concluded, “an adequate understanding of the imagery has not yet been reached.”31 By the mid-​1990s, Gabrielle Sed-​Rajna could write, “The identification [of the scene] is problematic, for there is no episode in the Book of Ezekiel which corresponds to such a scene.”32 Yet Sed-​Rajna also noted a consistent practice in the Dura paintings: “In all the other panels, without exception, the framing underlines the unity of content. The narrative

394   Margaret S. Odell elements within the frame are part of the same literary text, the same story.”33 Simply on the basis of this one iconographic convention, the interpretation of section C demands a correlation with the book of Ezekiel, and, furthermore, one which is part of the story narrated in sections A and B—​the resurrection of the dry bones of the house of Israel. Coherence cannot be cobbled together thematically but requires a particular construal of “the same literary text.” I have already noted that the visual imagery of section B—​mountains, dismembered body parts as well as bones, and an inverted crenellatedstructure—​has connected the vision of c­ hapter 37 with the judgment of idolatry in c­ hapter 6. A Jewish interpretive tradition may complete the picture by showing in what way the vision of c­ hapters 8 and 9 was construed in the Jewish tradition as part of the “same literary story.” In the course of an extended discussion of the meaning of Ezekiel’s resurrection of dry bones, a question arises in Sanhedrin 92b: “Who are the resurrected ones in Ezekiel 37?” The variety of responses indicates a vigorous debate in which no single answer dominated. Nevertheless, Rabbi Yitzhak Nappaha offered a solution from within the book of Ezekiel itself. Drawing a verbal connection between the use of the adverb sābîb in both Ezekiel 8 and 37, he argued that the resurrected ones were the idolaters in 8:10 who had desecrated the sanctuary walls: These are the people who covered the Sanctuary with repugnant creatures and creeping animals, as it is stated: “So I entered and saw and behold, every form of creeping animal and repugnant animal, and all the idols of the house of Israel, etched upon the wall around” and it is written there with regard to the prophecy of the dry bones: “And he passed me over them around and around.” By means of a verbal analogy between: Around, in one verse and the identical term in the other it is derived that the two verses are referring to the same people.

It is perhaps not insignificant this same rabbi, a mid-​third century Palestinian amora, is also credited with having preserved a liturgical hymn associated with the program of paintings in the Dura-​Europos Synagogue.34 At the very least, the rabbinic association of this interpretive tradition with Rabbi Yitzhak Nappaha indicates that the connection between Ezekiel 8 and 37 had been made by the time of the synagogue’s construction by way of a well-​known and ancient exegetical technique. According to this rabbinic exegesis, the resurrected ones were the idolaters in Ezekiel 8. From a theological perspective, this is a remarkable statement about Jewish election and divine grace; from a narratological perspective, it indicates one way in which Jewish readings found coherence in the story of the prophet’s career. Ezekiel’s prophecy to the dry bones does not stand on its own but is the climactic moment of his indictment of the idolatrous house of Israel. The end of the story is not death but life through the gracious hand of God and the prophetic agency of Ezekiel.35 If it can be demonstrated that section C draws not only from c­ hapter 9, as Leveen had suggested, but also from c­ hapter 8, as in Rabbi Yitzhak’s exegesis, then it would be possible to show that the Ezekiel painting does indeed tell a single story from “the

Where There’s Fire There’s Smoke    395 same literary text.” At this point, it will be useful to invoke Exum’s working method of establishing a genuine dialogue between biblical narrative and visual representations. Such a strategy will not only show how the visual representations address problems in the text, it will also show how the text illumines and clarifies the visual images. To return to the issues raised by Leveen’s identification of the executioners in section C, one must concede that he left many questions begging. The main issue revolved around the identity and function of the linen-​clothed man. However, a closer examination of Ezekiel 9 in relation to section C will show that the issue is not simply one of representation. Rather, the problems begin with certain obscurities in the narrative of Ezekiel 9:1–​6. The apparent problems in representation may not reflect a departure from the text, as Kraeling contended, but rather a serious attempt to solve problems inherent in the text itself. In Ezekiel 9:2, the linen-​clothed man appears as one “among” the six; as such, he could be regarded either as a seventh, equipped solely with a writing case, or as one of the six, in which case he bears both stylus and sword. The second and more important problem centers on his task. In the first set of commands in 9:4–​5, the narrative appears to differentiate between his task, to mark with a Tau those who are to be delivered from destruction (9:4), and that of the others, who are commanded to kill (9:5). On the other hand, this latter command is addressed to “these,” and it is not at all certain that the linen-​clothed man is excluded from this address (Heb. ûlə’ēlleh; contrast NRSV “to the others”). The next command in verse 7, to defile the temple with the slain, is addressed to “them;” once again, it is not clear whether the man is included in the address. Finally, the man’s laconic report in verse 11, “I have done as you commanded me,” is also ambiguous and could imply that he had only one command to fulfill. However, the Qere for this verse, “I have done according to all that you have commanded,” hints at a more comprehensive role in the destruction. The Qere itself indicates a communal decision regarding the man’s role, which is further elucidated in the Midrash Rabbah to Lamentations cited above. It is therefore possible to conclude that the artist’s representation of him as a sword-​wielding executioner whose clothing sets him apart from the others follows this reading of Ezekiel 9. It is not a departure from the narrative, as Kraeling contended, but a reading fully congruent with the authoritative tradition of interpretation as preserved by the Qere. In the case of Ezekiel 9:1–​6, then, the apparent discrepancy between image and text draws attention to genuine textual difficulties, and Exum’s principle of genuine dialogue makes it possible to demonstrate just how the representation of the linen-​clothed man among five other executioners is a faithful rendering of Ezekiel 9:1–​6. He is one of the six and, in addition to his special task of marking some for preservation, he shares with the others the task of executing judgment. Exum’s principle of visual criticism is also helpful in elucidating the representation of idolatry in section C. As I have noted above, the representation of cult objects in the tent’s opening in the center of section C do not, on their own, signify idolatry. Certainly the artists could have represented idols, since they figure prominently in paintings devoted to pagan idolatry, most notably in the scene of the ark in the temple of Dagon in the middle register on the west wall. But the artists did not do so, and while it is tempting to see in this restraint a faithful observance of the Second Commandment,

396   Margaret S. Odell such speculation still does not explain the meaning of the cult implements in the tent’s opening. Putting this imagery into dialogue with the text of Ezekiel 8 may help resolve these issues. First, the unusual representation of a tent with an opening may address the textual ambiguities revolving around entrances in 8:7–​8, which confusingly report that when Ezekiel arrives at the entrance of the inner court, sees a hole in the wall, digs through the wall at God’s command, and then sees another entrance. The representation of a single opening into a dark space abstracts this sequence, certainly in the interest of visual clarity but also, perhaps, to draw attention to the problem of gaining entrance into secret spaces. When Ezekiel enters, he sees the idols of the house of Israel portrayed on the wall all around (Heb. sābîb; 8:10). One will recall that Rabbi Yitzhak Nappaha had used Ezekiel 8:10 and its verbal parallel in 37:2 to make the connection between idolatry and the resurrection of the house of Israel. However, what section C portrays in the entrance is not the idols themselves but the implements used to venerate them. These implements are suggested by the description of what Ezekiel sees in 8:11: “Each had his censer in his hand, and the fragrant cloud of incense was ascending” (Ezek 8:11). I would suggest that the cult implements in the tent opening signify this act of idolatry. By representing censers and not idols, the artists have not only simplified a complex scene, they have also adhered to Jewish restraint against representing idols even as they produce the more damning evidence of the elders’ veneration of them. It is even possible to suggest that the reddish glow in the center of the bowls represents the burning embers of incense, as if to suggest that where there’s fire, there’s smoke. The abstraction is an elegant solution to a complex problem. Without representing the elders or the idols, the artists nevertheless produce the cult implements as evidence of what the elders are doing “in the dark, each in his room of images” (8:12). When the central image of section C is thus clarified in light of Ezekiel 8, the violent acts portrayed on either side of the altar become intelligible as the ensuing episode of judgment in c­ hapter 9. As Leveen observed, the two scenes in the foreground closely correspond to Ezekiel 9:1–​6. The static portrayal of the four military figures beside the altar suggests the arrival of the executioners as described in 9:2. The two other executioners in the foreground, the fifth in military dress and the sixth clothed in linen, are represented in two distinct stages of executing the judgment. Critics have focused on the violence of the scenes; however, the more interesting question revolves around the precise moment of judgment. In Ezekiel 9:5–​6, God commands the executioners to pass through the city killing young and old yet touching no one who has the mark of the Tau. I would argue that the scene does not depict the act of execution but rather the discovery of guilt, as the executioners inspect the idolators’ foreheads for the missing Tau. This motif is unusual, and to my knowledge it appears only once elsewhere, in a twelfth-​ century fresco at the Church of St. Maria in Cosmedin.36 The parallel leads me to suggest that in both the left and right scenes, the artist has drawn attention to the executioners’ inspection of the idolators’ foreheads. To the left of the altar, the executioner pulls the kneeling figure from behind. The executioner’s face is bent downward, as if to inspect his victim, whose forehead is in full view. What has been widely regarded as the artist’s

Where There’s Fire There’s Smoke    397 poor execution of the victim’s hairstyle may well be an attempt to show the executioner pulling the hair away from the face in order to conduct the inspection. To the right of the altar, the linen-​clothed man is engaged in a similar action. In this case, however, he grips his victim’s hair at the front, as if to pull it away for a closer look at the forehead. With his right hand wielding the sword, he is ready to execute judgment. Although the poor state of preservation makes it difficult to be certain, it is also possible that the portrayal of two victims is intended to express the totality of judgment, as the executioners prepare to strike down all those who do not have the mark, both young and old (Ezek 9:6). If this reading of section C is correct, then it becomes possible to read the entire Ezekiel painting as a coherent narrative revolving around Ezekiel’s long engagement with idolatry and its deadly consequences. As noted above, the connections between sections C and A are indicated not only by the light background of both sections, but also by the motif of Ezekiel being carried by the hair. Section C represents the prophet’s vision of the abominations of Jerusalem, where he witnesses the idolatry of the house of Israel and its aftermath of judgment (Ezek 8‒9). Section A returns the prophet in visions of God to the scene of judgment, where dismembered body parts, bones, and a toppled town signify the totality of destruction (Ezek 6). With the hand of God appearing in section A and continuing into section B, the painting emphasizes the miraculous restoration of idolaters to new life (Ezek 37). Rachel Hachlili has noted that most Jewish art emphasizes narrative, with attention usually concentrated at the end, at the moment of divine deliverance.37 That emphasis is certainly apparent in the magnificent portrayal of Ezekiel’s prophecy to the dry bones in the Dura painting, as well as in the clear decision to highlight Ezekiel’s participation in the restoration of the slain idolaters to life. But the painting is doing other things as well. Kära Schenk has noted that the “single most popular type of image” found throughout the temples at Dura was the portrayal of a single figure or figures “offering incense on incense burners. . . before a cult image.”38 Schenk’s observation draws attention to a principle of selection in the artists’ rendering of Ezekiel 8-​9 in section C. Ezekiel reported other idolatrous practices in his vision, most notably the presence of the image of jealousy near the altar, the women weeping for Tammuz, and the twenty-​five elders bowing to the sun (8:5, 14, 16). However, the artists have chosen to represent the one practice that typified life in this pagan town. Moreover, if the artists refrained from representing the idols of the house of Israel, they also refrained from representing any Jew engaged in the practice of offering up incense. They did, however, invite the viewers to contemplate idolatry’s aftermath. Here it is worth recalling Berdini’s interest in the impact of paintings on their viewers, as well as the more recent studies of the paintings’ role in the construction of identity among the Durene Jews. One of the more compelling aspects of section C is its frontal presentation of the idolaters, as if inviting the viewers to search for the missing Tau, and to share the soldiers’ horror when it cannot be found. For the Jews of Dura, that question of making visible what was a matter of the heart would have been crucial in establishing Jewish identity amid the plurality of religious practices. In that regard, it is also interesting to contemplate the artists’ representation of the resurrected house of Israel as ten men. I have already mentioned the symbolic dimensions of this

398   Margaret S. Odell representation, as well as some of the proposals for interpreting this number to signify national restoration. However, their gestures of upraised hands suggest a transformation more specifically relevant to the Durene cycle. In this programmatic demonstration of Jewish identity, the Ezekiel painting asserts that Israel fell as a nation of idolaters; God raised it as a minyan at prayer. The painting underscores the gracious source of Jewish identity; one can readily imagine the Durene worshipers identifying with the resurrected ones as they offered up their own prayers to the God of their salvation. An even more intriguing result is the recovery of the missing Tau of Ezekiel 9:4–​6 as the key to reading the violent scene of judgment in section C. Although such a claim might seem to be an argument from silence (or invisibility, as it were), all of the elements in the painting converge to support this interpretation as a compressed account of the discovery of idolatry in Ezekiel 8–​9. This construal of the meaning of section C may also provide a point of connection between Jewish and Christian iconography in the synagogue and baptistery. Although the difference in the artistic programs of the two buildings is notable, the building does include a baptistery, and one may assume that the rite of baptism would have included marking the foreheads of the newly baptized with the sign of the Tau. Markus Vincent has recently argued that the earliest Christian visual symbol, the sign of the cross, was, from its inception, a Jewish symbol. Vinzent goes on to suggest that even when Marcion used it as a sign of baptism to differentiate Christian practice from Jewish practice, his opponent Tertullian insisted that it was Jewish symbol; indeed, it was a sign the prophet Ezekiel “foresaw we should have on our foreheads in the true and catholic Jerusalem.”39 Given the proximity of the baptistery to the synagogue and the use of the Tau in the rite of Christian baptism, it is tempting to ask whether the Tau was a point of contact and dialogue between Jews and Christians, or whether it had already become a point of contention and division. In any case, it has been the dialogue between the text and an absent image that has made this question possible.

Notes 1. Thomas F. Mathews, The Clash of Gods: A Reinterpretation of Early Christian Art (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993), 115–​19. 2. Sylvia Serafinowicz, “To the Son of Man Who Ate the Scroll,” Artforum International 54/​5 (Jan 2016), 149. 3. Paulo Berdini, The Religious Art of Jacopo Bassano: Painting as Visual Exegesis (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), cited by J. Cheryl Exum, “Toward a Genuine Dialogue Between the Bible and Art,” in Congress Volume Helsinki 2010, edited by Martti Nissinen (SVT, 148; Leiden, Boston: Brill, 2012), 473n1. 4. As noted in Exum, “Toward a Genuine Dialogue Between the Bible and Art,” 473n1. 5. Warren Moon, “Nudity and Narrative: Observations on the Frescoes from the Dura Synagogue,” JAAR 60/​4 (Winter 1992), 587–​658, esp. 598. 6. David S. Herrstrom, “Blake’s Transformations of Ezekiel’s Cherubim Vision in ‘Jerusalem,’ ” Blake 15/​2 (Sept 1981), 64–​77.

Where There’s Fire There’s Smoke    399 7. Martin O’Kane, “Interpreting the Bible Through the Visual Arts,” Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel 1/​3 (Sept 2012), 388–​409, esp. 391. 8. J. Cheryl Exum, “Toward a Genuine Dialogue Between the Bible and Art,” 473–​76. 9. Carl H. Kraeling, The Synagogue, Final Report VII, Part 1, The Excavations at Dura-​ Europos Conducted by Yale University and the French Academy of Inscriptions and Letters (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1956). For more recent summaries and bibliographies, see Joseph Gutman, “Early Jewish Synagogue and Jewish Catacomb Art and its Relation to Christian Art,” ANRW 21/​2 (1984), 1313–​1342; Kära L. Schenk, “Temple, Community, and Sacred Narrative in the Dura-​Europos Synagogue, AJS Review 34/​2 (November 2010), 195–​229; and Gabrielle Sed-​Ragna, “Dura-​Europos,” in Jewish Art, translated by Sara Friedman and Mira Reich (New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1997), 553–​68. 10. Sed-​Rajna, “Dura-​Europos,” 553. 11. Andrew Curry, “Here are the Sites ISIS Has Destroyed,” National Geographic, Sept 1, 2015. https://​news.nat​iona​lgeo​grap​hic.com/​2015/​09/​150​901-​isis-​dest​ruct​ion-​loot​ing-​anci​ent-​ sites-​iraq-​syria-​arch​aeol​ogy/​. 12. Joseph Gutman, “Programmatic Painting in the Dura Synagogue,” in The Dura-​Europos Synagogue: A Re-​Evaluation (1932-​1972), edited by Joseph Gutman (Religion and the Arts 1; Missoula: AAR/​SBL, 1973), 140. 13. Schenk, “Temple, Community, and Sacred Narrative in the Dura-​Europos Synagogue,” 216. 14. Cf. Steven Fine, who notes that fine art is a romantic concept. Since the concept of “art” did not exist in the ancient world, he prefers the term “craftsmanship” as a more adequate reflection of the Greek tekné or Aramaic umanut. Steven Fine, Art and Judaism in the Greco-​World: Toward a New Jewish Archaeology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 2. 15. Moon, “Nudity and Narrative,” 600. 16. Moon, “Nudity and Narrative,” 597. 17. Gutman, “Early Jewish Synagogue and Jewish Catacomb Art and its Relation to Christian Art,” 10. Annabel Wharton argues that this apparent disorder is not a sign of the program’s incoherence but an “organizing principle of the Synagogue’s visual discourse.” Annabel Jane Wharton, “Good and Bad Images from the Synagogue of Dura Europos: Contexts, Subtexts, Intertexts,” Art History 17/​1 (March 1994), 15–​6. 18. E. R. Goodenough, Jewish Symbols of the Greco-​Roman Period, Vol. 9 (New York: Pantheon Books, 1964). 19. Steven Fine, “Liturgy and the Art of the Dura-​Europos Synagogue,” chapter in Art and Judaism in the Greco Roman World, 172–​83. 20. Catherine Hezser and Uzi Leibner, “Jewish Art in its Late Antique Context: An Introductory Essay,” in Jewish Art in its Late Antique Context, edited by Catherine Hezser and Uzi Leibner (Texts and Studies in Ancient Judaism, 163; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 1–​23. 21. Jás Elsner, “Cultural Resistance and the Visual Image: The Case of Dura Europos,” Classical Philology 96/​3 (Jul 2001), 282. 22. Elsner, “Cultural Resistance and the Visual Image,” 283. 23. Kära Schenk, “Temple, Community, and Sacred Narrative in the Dura-​ Europos Synagogue,” AJS Review 34/​2 (November 2010), 195–​229. 24. Faith Steinberg, “Women and the Dura-​Europos Synagogue Paintings,” Religion and the Arts 10/​4 (2006), 461–​96.

400   Margaret S. Odell 25. Except where noted, my discussion of the Ezekiel painting follows the comprehensive analysis provided by Kraeling, The Synagogue, 178–​202. 26. Annabel Jane Wharton, “Good and Bad Images from the Synagogue of Dura Europos: Contexts, Subtexts, Intertexts,” 1–​25. 27. For a summary of these proposals, see Kraeling, The Synagogue, 198–​9. 28. Jacob Leveen, The Hebrew Bible in Art (Schweich Lectures, 1939; London: Published for the British Academy by Humphrey Milford, Oxford University Press, 1944), 49–​51. 29. Kraeling, The Synagogue, 197 fig. 54. 30. Kraeling, The Synagogue, 199–​200. 31. Kraeling, The Synagogue, 200. 32. Sed-​Rajna, “Dura-​Europos,” 567–​8. 33. For surveys and assessments of the critical impasse in interpreting Section C, see Gutman, “Early Jewish Synagogue and Jewish Catacomb Art and its Relation to Christian Art,” 1318, and Sed-​Rajna, “Dura-​Europos,” 657–​68. 34. Gutman, “Programmatic Painting in the Dura Synagogue,” 148. 35. A similar though not identical juxtaposition of scenes from Ezekiel 6, 8–​9, and 37 appears in the miniature introducing the book of Ezekiel in the eleventh-​century Roda Bible (W. Neuss, Die Katalanische Bibelillustration [1922], p. 88, pl. 31, fig. 96; as cited in Index of Medieval art, system #92744). 36. Anne Derbes, “Crusading Ideology and the Frescoes of S. Maria in Cosmedin,” Art Bulletin 77/​3 (Sept 1995), 463–​6, especially ­figures 8 and 9, p. 466. Derbes herself observes, “I know no other instance of this scene before the twelfth century” (466). 37. Rachel Hachlili, Ancient Synagogues—​Archaeology and Art: New Discoveries and Current Research. (Handbook of Oriental Studies, Section 1: The Near and Middle East Series, vol. 105; Leiden: Brill, 2014), 432. 38. Schenk, “Temple, Community, and Sacred Narrative in the Dura Europos Synagogue,” 216. 39. Markus Vinzent, “Earliest ‘Christian’ Art is Jewish Art,” in Jewish Art in its Late Antique Context, edited by Uzi Leibner and Cathering Hezser (Texte und Studien zum antiken Judentum, 163; Tubingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 270–​4. The citation from Tertullian is taken from “Against Marcion,” 3.22 (Vinzent, p. 272 n. 47).

Bibliography Berdini, Paulo. The Religious Art of Jacopo Bassano: Painting as Visual Exegesis. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997. Derbes, Anne. “Crusading Ideology and the Frescoes of S. Maria in Cosmedin,” Art Bulletin 77/​ 3 (Sept 1995): 460–​77. Elsner, Jás. “Cultural Resistance and the Visual Image: The Case of Dura Europos.” Classical Philology 96/​3 (Jul 2001): 269–​304. Exum, J. Cheryl. “Toward a Genuine Dialogue Between the Bible and Art.” In Congress Volume Helsinki 2010, edited by Martti Nissinen, 473–​503. VTSup, 148. Leiden, Boston: Brill, 2012. Fine, Stephen. “Liturgy and the Art of the Dura-​Europos Synagogue.” Chapter in Art and Judaism in the Greco Roman World: Toward a New Jewish Archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005. Goodenough, E. R. Symbolism in the Dura Synagogue. Vols. 9–​11 of Jewish Symbols of the Greco-​ Roman Period. New York: Pantheon Books, 1964.

Where There’s Fire There’s Smoke    401 Gutman, Joseph. “Early Jewish Synagogue and Jewish Catacomb Art and its Relation to Christian Art.” In Aufstieg und Niedergang der Römischen Welt. Part 2, vol. 21.2, edited by Hildegard Temporini and Wolfgang Haase, 1313–​42. Berlin and New York: DeGruyter, 1984. Gutman, Joseph. “Programmatic Painting in the Dura Synagogue.” In The Dura-​Europos Synagogue: A Re-​Evaluation (1932-​1972), edited by Joseph Gutman, 137–​54. Religion and the Arts 1. Missoula: AAR/​SBL, 1973. Hachlili, Rachel. Ancient Synagogues—​Archaeology and Art: New Discoveries and Current Research. Handbook of Oriental Studies, Section 1: The Near and Middle East Series, vol. 105. Leiden: Brill, 2014. Herrstrom, David. “Blake’s Transformations of Ezekiel’s Cherubim Vision in ‘Jerusalem,’ ” Blake 15/​2 (Sept 1981): 64–​77. Hezser. Catherine, and Uzi Leibner. “Jewish Art in its Late Antique Context: An Introductory Essay.” In Jewish Art in its Late Antique Context, edited by Uzi Leibner and Catherine Hezser, 1–​23. Texts and Studies in Ancient Judaism, 163. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016. Kraeling, Carl F. The Synagogue. Final Report VII, Part 1: The Excavations at Dura-​Europos Conducted by Yale University and the French Academy of Inscriptions and Letters. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1956. Leveen, Jacob. The Hebrew Bible in Art. Schweich Lectures, 1939. London: Published for the British Academy by Humphrey Milford, Oxford University Press, 1944. Mathews, Thomas F. The Clash of Gods: A Reinterpretation of Early Christian Art. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993. Moon, Warren. “Nudity and Narrative: Observations on the Frescoes from the Dura Synagogue,” JAAR 60/​4 (Winter 1992): 587–​658. Neuss, Wilhelm. Das Buch Ezechiel in Theologie und Kunst bis zum Ende des XII Jahrhunderts mit besonderer Berücksichtigung der Gemälde in der Kirche zu Schwarzrheindorf. Münster: Aschendorff, 1912. O’Kane, Martin. “Interpreting the Bible Through the Visual Arts.” HBAI 1/​3 (Sept 2012): 388–​409. Schenk, Kära L. “Temple, Community, and Sacred Narrative in the Dura-​Europos Synagogue. AJS Review 34/​2 (November 2010): 195–​229. Sed-​Ragna, Gabrielle. Jewish Art. Translated by Sara Friedman and Mira Reich. New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1997. Steinberg, Faith. “Women and the Dura-​Europos Synagogue Paintings.” Religion and the Arts 10/​4 (2006): 461–​96. Talgam, Rina. “Constructing Identity Through Art: Jewish Art as a Minority Culture in Byzantium.” In Jews in Byzantium, edited by R. Bonfil, O. Irshai, G. G. Strousma. and R. Talgam, 399–​454. Boston, Leiden: Brill, 2012. Vinzent, Markus. “Earliest ‘Christian’ Art is Jewish Art.” In Jewish Art in its Late Antique Context, edited by Uzi Leibner and Catherine Hezser, 263–​77. Texte und Studien zum antiken Judentum, 163; Tubingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016. Weitzmann, Kurt and Herbert L. Kessler. The Frescoes of the Dura Synagogue and Christian Art. Dumbaron Oaks Studies, 28. Washington, D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, 1990. Wharton, Annabel Jane. “Good and Bad Images from the Synagogue of Dura Europos: Contexts, Subtexts, Intertexts. Art History 17/​1 (March 1994): 1–​25.

Chapter 21

Ezekiel and G e nde r Amy Kalmanofsky

The book of Ezekiel receives a great deal of attention from biblical scholars interested in questions related to gender. In this chapter, I identify a gender instability manifest by the three major characters in Ezekiel—​Israel, the prophet, and God—​and show the ways in which these characters exhibit or reflect a compromised masculinity. Furthermore, I argue that the gender identity of these characters is interconnected. Israel’s gender identity impacts God’s gender identity. God’s gender identity impacts the prophet’s. Gender instability results from a dynamic relationship between God, Israel, and the prophet. I begin by presenting how scholarship that has focused on the gender rhetoric of the marriage metaphor—​a core component of Ezekiel—​has, as a consequence, revealed the gender instability of the character of Israel. I then offer textual examples of the gender instability manifest by Ezekiel’s three central characters, before concluding with suggestions of what these texts reveal about gender construction and identity in Ezekiel.

1.  Gender Rhetoric and Gender Instability in the Marriage Metaphor Ezekiel 16 and 23 particularly garner the attention of scholars who address the ways in which these chapters, which offer the most detailed and violent rendition of the marriage metaphor in the prophetic texts, construct and utilize gender. In the metaphor’s narrative, husband God punishes and rejects wife Israel1 for pursuing and engaging with foreign lovers, before compassionately reconciling with her.2 For many scholars, Ezekiel 16 and 23 are pornographic texts that provide lurid detail of Israel’s sexual behavior and punishment; furthermore, these passages blatantly manifest a patriarchal, if not a misogynistic, perspective.3 Scholars such as Mary E. Shields illuminate how these texts reflect and utilize gender bias and assumptions. Shields observes how the body and gender rhetoric in Ezekiel 16 presents only husband God’s point of view—​and condemns wife

Ezekiel and Gender    403 Israel, who, as Shields asserts, is “representative of her gender.”4 According to Shields, this gender rhetoric works to assert male God’s power, and by extension, the power of all men; she writes: First, as we have seen, the I–​you focus not only draws attention to the “you” but also draws attention away from the “I.” Readers are led by the very language of the text not to question the “I” figure. Second, the “I” figure is Yahweh. . . . Third, one of the effects of the narrative’s being structured in such a way as to focus solely on the body and actions of the woman is to emphasize the power of the male figure, God. It is he who sees the infant and pronounces that she should live, and who marries, washes, and adorns the young woman. It is he who allows the woman no speech in this text. It is his power that the woman challenges by her actions, causing shame, and it is his power that is reasserted through the punishment, its justification, and the partial reconciliation in the second half of the chapter. . . . His power, in the end, is absolute.5

Scholars who engage in rhetorical analysis, like Shields, focus our attention on the ways that texts like Ezekiel 16 impact their intended audience, while recognizing how difficult it is to determine the impact of any ancient text on an ancient audience. Although prophetic texts like Ezekiel may have reached a broad audience that spanned social and gender divides, many scholars perceive elite Israelite men to be the Bible’s authors, editors, and target audience. Gale A. Yee observes how the Bible at large presents and preserves a male world; she writes: Two gendered worlds would thus have existed in ancient Israel: the female world encapsulated by the male world, but for the most part invisible and inaccessible to it. Both domains would be sites of power struggle during times of intergender conflict. Nevertheless, what appears predominantly in the biblical text is the male world. The biblical text narrates and legitimizes male ideologies of lineage, descent, and honor as they are lived out in obedience to the biblical God Yhwh.6

Carleen R. Mandolfo considers the marriage metaphor “an effective device for communicating to the prophet’s elite male audience,”7 and observes, similar to Yee, how the texts that comprise the metaphor serve the Bible’s master narrative which protects male interests and ideologies: These prophetic texts uphold the normative worldview—​patriarchal, monotheistic, and so on—​of the Bible that distinguishes men from women and believers from apostates. As such, these prophetic representations do what many master narratives (unfortunately) do—​they justify violence against those groups they characterize as somehow morally deficient. Daughter Zion, wife of Yhwh, is cast as an adulterous woman, a degenerate “whore” who deserves the wrath of her lord, a lord the master narratives are careful to describe to us as just and merciful.8

While many scholars have pointed out how the marriage metaphor ultimately supports the Bible’s master narrative that privileges men, some also recognize a

404   Amy Kalmanofsky disorienting element of a metaphor that presupposes that its elite male audience will identify as female. For the metaphor to have its full impact, Israelite elite men must see themselves as Israel, God’s maligned wife. Mandolfo sees this cross-​gender identification as “a brilliant ploy” that compels Israelite leaders “to embrace fully their chastisement if they want to maintain their position of power in the status quo.”9 Fokkelien van Dijk-​Hemmes recognizes a similar strategic brilliance to the metaphor in question. Focusing on Ezekiel 23, Van Dijk-​Hemmes describes how the metaphor condemns women and shames men, while providing men with a possibility of escape; she writes: The androcentric-​pornographic character of this metaphorical language must indeed be experienced as extremely humiliating by the male audience forced to imagine itself as being exposed to violating enemies. Nevertheless, it is exactly this androcentric-​pornographic character which at the same time offers the male audience a possibility of escape: the escape of an identification with the revengeful husband or, more modestly, with the righteous men who, near the end of the text, are summoned to pass judgment upon the adulterous women (v. 45).10

According to Yee, the cross-​gender identification demanded by the marriage metaphor is more than a rhetorical strategy. It also expresses Israel’s experience of the Babylonian conquest. Submission to Babylon was a humiliating and emasculating experience for nation Israel as a whole, but especially for Israel’s leaders like the priest-​ prophet Ezekiel who was exiled to Babylon.11 The marriage metaphor, which asks elite Israelite men to identify as a shameful and shamed woman, conveys this humiliation. Like Van Dijk-​Hemmes, Yee recognizes the complicated ways in which the metaphor ascribes blame to and induces shame in Israel’s elite men, while providing them with a degree of gender-​distance from female Israel. In this way, the metaphor manifests and sustains patriarchal ideology. Addressing the gender rhetoric of Ezekiel 23, Yee observes this about the prophet’s strategy: To exercise control over his humiliating circumstances, he symbolizes the sociopolitical escapades of Israel’s and Judah’s male national leadership as lascivious women. In this act of transgendered self-​blame, he thus reinscribes the male status quo and the entitlements of his assumptive elite world, in order to integrate his memories of trauma. Avoiding blame by ducking behind a woman’s body, Ezekiel thereby absolves simultaneously his own institutional complicity in sins of the nation and that of the male elite class to which he belongs. Blame falls metaphorically on the bodies of women, where male conflicts between victor and vanquished are played out.12

Thus Van Dijk-​Hemmes, Mandolfo, and Yee view the marriage metaphor, and the cross-​gender identification it demands, as upholding patriarchal ideologies. In addition, they all recognize that the text generates a gender instability, which stems from a female figure’s representing and appealing to a male audience. More recently, queer scholarship has further considered this gender instability, viewing it not only as means to reinscribe androcentric ideologies, but also as a means to challenge them.13 Stuart

Ezekiel and Gender    405 Macwilliam perceives gender instability—​what he labels fluidity—​in the language of Ezekiel 23, noting the use of male and female pronouns to refer to Israel. Macwilliam concludes: I have maintained that the phenomenon of m for f forms in Ezekiel 23 is an intrusion of the masculine referent in such a way that the rigidity of gender boundaries is undermined. This is a challenge to many previous assumptions; some feminist critics, for instance, have argued that the maintenance of gender boundaries in the marriage metaphor has underscored the male self-​exculpating stereotype of the sinful woman. What I argue, on the contrary, is that certain properties of the imagery force male readers not only to identify themselves as sinners but also as the wife of Yhwh.14

Macwilliam’s queer reading of the marriage metaphor reveals “breakdowns” in a strictly binary notion of gender that distinguishes sharply between male and female. In Macwilliam’s reading, the marriage metaphor offers a more fluid model of gender—​one that allows, perhaps encourages, a male to identify as female, and thus should not be viewed solely as a rhetorical strategy that serves patriarchal ideology and heteronormativity.15 I now consider gender instability as manifest in the three main characters of Ezekiel—​Israel, the prophet, and God. My analysis seeks to broaden the conversation around gender instability in the context of Ezekiel, and to think about the ways this broader perspective alters our understanding of the construction and use of gender in Ezekiel. As we shall see, whereas Yee attributes the emasculation she perceives in the marriage metaphor to the experience of conquest, I attribute the gender instability manifest more broadly in Ezekiel to the dynamic relationship between Israel, the prophet, and God.

2. Israel Although Ezekiel’s prophecy condemns men and women to exile and death, it is a reasonable assumption, as I mention above, that the prophet and the book assume a male audience. Ezekiel has a particularly damning message for Israel’s male leadership. As Corrine L. Patton observes, “The book of Ezekiel exhibits great concern for the various forms of leadership in Judah.”16 Although both men and women were engaged in damnable abominations,17 Ezekiel singles out and condemns Israel’s male leadership—​its corrupt elders, priests, prophets, and princes, as 22:23–​30 illustrates. In this passage, Ezekiel respectively accuses the prophets of theft and deception, the priests of profaning the sacred, and the officials of bloodshed and ill-​gotten gain. Ezekiel 19 has a similarly sharp message for the princes of Israel. Despite Ezekiel’s assumed elite male target audience, the prophet, at times, portrays Israel as a female figure. In my reading, the use of a female figure to appeal to and represent a male

406   Amy Kalmanofsky audience is a marker of gender instability in the text. I now present several texts that portray Israel as female. As I mention above, Ezekiel 16 and 23 offers the most detailed account of the marriage metaphor that portrays Israel as God’s lascivious wife. Ezekiel 16:15–​16 provides an example: You trusted in your beauty and were promiscuous [‫ ו ִַּת ְזנִי‬wattiznî]18 because of your reputation. You offered yourself sexually to everyone who passed by, you clung to him. You took from your clothes and made for yourself multicolored platforms to fornicate upon—​not in the future, not in the time to come.

Ezekiel 23 adds new dimensions to the metaphor by portraying Samaria (Oholah) and Jerusalem (Oholibah) as sisters married to God.19 Jerusalem’s lust exceeds her sister’s but leads to a similar fate, as 23:11–​16 makes clear: Her sister Oholibah saw this. Her lust was more depraved than her sister—​her promiscuity more than her sister’s. She lusted after the Assyrians: governors and prefects, guardsmen—​wearers of finery, horsemen, riders—​all desirable men. I saw how she defiled herself. One path for both of them; she increased her whoring, she saw men incised upon the wall, Chaldean figures engraved in red, girded waistbands upon their loins, trailing turbans upon their heads, all of them looking like officers, all the image of Chaldeans, the land of their birth. At the sight of them, she lusted after them and sent messengers to them, to Chaldea.

Both Ezekiel 16 and 23 present Israel not only as a shameful woman who is resisting her husband’s control, but also as an impure woman. They do so by evoking blood imagery—​particularly, though not exclusively, the contaminating blood associated with the female body.20 Other passages in the book likewise use blood imagery to support this portrayal of Israel. Ezekiel 16:6 describes the birth blood that covers infant Israel. Ezekiel 16:9 refers either to the blood of menstruation or hymenal blood.21 Ezekiel 36:17–​ 18 directly compares Israel to an impure menstruating woman: Human, when the house of Israel sat on their land, they defiled it through their ways and deeds; their ways were like the impurity of a menstruant before me. So I poured out my anger upon them for the blood they shed upon the land, and for their idols through which they defiled it.22

This passage links the blood of menstruation with bloodshed upon the land, suggesting that the bloodshed committed by Israel inspires the comparison to a menstruating woman. Ezekiel 16:38 and 23:37 similarly accuse Israel and Jerusalem of bloodshed. Of course, bloodshed is not inherently gendered blood. Yet the image of a bloody and blood-​filled Israel is, as 24:6–​14 illustrates. This passage describes Jerusalem as a bloody city, ‫ עִ יר הַ דָּ ִמים‬ˁîr haddāmîm. Throughout the passage, the city is repeatedly

Ezekiel and Gender    407 referred to and addressed in the grammatical feminine—​that is, as a female; as verse 13 shows: For your (f.) shameful impurity—​because I had purified you (f.), but you (f.) would not be purified from your (f.) impurity—​you (f.) will not be purified again until I have exhausted my rage against you (f.).

Furthermore, the gendered-​female bloody city is compared to a pot filled with meat, bones, and blood. Fueled by God’s rage, the gruesome stew continues to burn—​until nothing remains of it but charred bones. Mandolfo recognizes in Ezekiel, as I do in this particular passage, a symbolic connection between blood, the city, and the female body that works to communicate Israel’s impurity and explain her fate; she writes: Because for Ezekiel the feminized city metaphor implies a feminized temple, the bloodiness (hence uncleanness) of the female body, both through natural processes (birth and menstruation) and in this case “unnatural” processes (infanticide), offers a compelling explanation for the necessity of Yhwh’s abandonment of his temple—​ an explanation toward which the entire book of Ezekiel is striving.23

The portrayal of Israel as an unclean woman is further supported by the second half of Ezekiel 24, in which the prophet is told that God will take something precious [‫מַ ְחמַ ד‬ ָ ‫ עֵ ינ‬maḥmaḏ ˁêneyḵā (verse 16)] away from him. The precious object turns out to ‫ֶיך‬ be Ezekiel’s wife, who has died (verse 18). The passage then associates Ezekiel’s dead wife with the temple in Jerusalem: just as Ezekiel had treasured his wife, the people have treasured the temple [‫ מַ ְחמַ ד עֵ ינֵיכֶ ם‬maḥmaḏ ˁênêḵem (verse 21)]. This symbolic connection between the decimated temple and the dead female body implies Israel’s tenuous status. The background for this implication is that like blood, a corpse is considered a major source of impurity in the Bible. Some examples: A human corpse transmits impurity and must not be touched (Num 19:11–​13). Impure animals are even more impure when dead (Lev 11:24–​40). Unburied bodies pollute the land (Ezek 39:14–​ 16). Thus here in Ezekiel, the people of Israel, once engaged in abominations, has become the ultimate abomination. Even worse than the promiscuous woman, Israel has become a dead woman.24

3.  The Prophet As the superscription relates, the prophet Ezekiel was a priest among the first wave of exiles to Babylon in 597 bce.25 Ezekiel’s social and religious status is not only central to his character, but also formative to his prophecy. He is an elite male who must submit to a foreign superpower and be displaced. He is also a priest who, in exile, becomes a

408   Amy Kalmanofsky prophet. I argue that these shifts in Ezekiel’s role, perspective, and status impact his gender identity. The power that he has experienced as an elite male in Jerusalem is compromised in exile, as Yee observes: Within the intricate social complexes of gendered power, Ezekiel belongs to the superior sex and class in his native context. However, he also ranks as male subordinate to Babylonian male colonizers, to whom his class must pay tribute. This ethnic Other humiliates and eventually vanquishes him and his nation.26

Ezekiel’s role as a prophet likewise compromises his power and, I argue, his masculinity. Priests and prophets engage with the divine differently—​and serve different religious roles for the community.27 Although prophets are powerful figures in the Bible who challenge and critique priests,28 the status ascribed to priests at birth and their cultic function affords them a higher position than prophets in the religious hierarchy.29 One could argue that, in exile, Ezekiel is demoted from priest to prophet, and that the prophet experiences this demotion as emasculation.30 One could also argue, as Rhiannon Graybill does, that the experience of being a prophet destabilizes the prophet’s masculinity; Graybill writes: Prophecy is embodied practice. But however much prophecy depends upon the body, it also makes demands upon it. The prophets do not pass through prophecy unaltered. . . . In particular, the masculinity of the prophet is put under pressure by the demands of prophecy and becomes unstable. While the prophets of the Hebrew Bible are, with few exceptions, male, masculinity is a cause of some difficulty for prophetic bodies. To read the prophetic narratives with close attention to the body is also to perceive a series of challenges to the norms of masculinity and masculine embodiment.31

For Graybill, a body gendered female is a passive and receptive one. Graybill thus perceives Ezekiel’s destabilized masculinity in the ways in which he submits to his fate and his God, and in which his body is acted upon; she observes: The glorious body of Yahweh, the penetration by the divine scroll, and the resistant bodies of the house of Israel all conspire to create an image of Ezekiel’s body as soft, weak, vulnerable, opened, and acted upon. . . . Ezekiel is the actor in the sign acts. . . . Yet Ezekiel does not act independently, but rather on the command of Yahweh. There is a basic continuity between the passive, receptive body of Ezekiel 1–​3 and the active body of Ezekiel 4–​5: even when he acts, he acts masochistically. To act, for Ezekiel, is to submit.32

Like Graybill, I perceive Ezekiel’s submission to God and his role as indicative of a destabilized or compromised masculinity. Ezekiel 3:22–​27 illustrates his physical, emotional, and religious submission:

Ezekiel and Gender    409 The hand [‫ יָד‬yāḏ] of Yhwh was upon me. He said to me: “Get up and go to the valley, and I will speak to you there.” I got up and went to the valley; and there the glory [‫ ּ ָכבו ֹד‬kāḇôḏ] of God was standing just like the glory I saw by the Chebar Canal. I fell on my face. A spirit entered me and stood me up onto my feet. He spoke to me: “Go and shut yourself up in your house. You, human, cords will be placed upon you, and you will be bound by them. You will not go out among them [viz., the people]. Your tongue I will cleave to your mouth, and you will be mute. You will not be for them a man who admonishes—​for they are a rebellious house. But when I speak with you, I will open your mouth; and you will say to them: Thus says my lord Yhwh. He who will listen, will listen; and he who does not, will not—​for they are a rebellious house.

Bound and gagged, the prophet cannot open his mouth or walk about to deliver God’s message to the people. In essence, God appears to be preventing Ezekiel from functioning as a prophet in this passage. Elsewhere in the Bible, God tries to prevent prophets from prophesying. In response to Israel’s worship of the golden calf, God tells Moses not to intervene, so that God can proceed to destroy Israel (Exod 32:10). Similarly, God tells Jeremiah not to pray on Israel’s behalf (Jer 7:16, 11:14, 14:11; 15:1). Yet, unlike with Jeremiah and Moses, God does not seem to want Ezekiel not to prophesy. Instead, God wants to assert total control over Ezekiel. He will say God’s words and will move only when God allows him to. This may be the precise moment that Ezekiel transitions from priest to prophet—​the moment when he loses autonomy and submits to God—​the moment when he learns to say the one thing that identifies prophets and defines prophecy: “Thus says . . . Yhwh.” Ezekiel’s submission to God may be enough to indicate a compromised masculinity, but there are linguistic markers in this passage that support this gendered reading. God’s ‫ יָד‬yāḏ “hand” compels Ezekiel forward here and throughout the book (1:3; 2:9; 3:14; 8:1; 33:22; 37:1); and God’s ‫ ּ ָכבו ֹד‬kāḇôḏ “glory” likewise reveals itself to Ezekiel here and elsewhere (10:19; 11:22). Both “hand” and “glory” can be seen as markers of God’s masculinity. Because “hand” can mean “penis” (as in Isa 57:8, 10), its application to punishment could have a phallic implication—​especially when that hand wields a sword, as it so often does in Ezekiel (6:3; 11:8; 14:17, 21; 21:14, 16–​17). As for “glory,” it is the manifestation of God that Alan Hooker argues is an expression of masculinity: As (a manifestation of) Yahweh’s body, Glory shares in the normative masculinity embodied by Yahweh and the ways in which Yahweh functions as the man par excellence. In this way, the Glory may be compared to the Lacanian phallus and Name–​of-​ the-​Father whose power and presence construct meaning, since it is by ‫ כבוד‬that presentations of masculinity are judged.33

Following Hooker, in 3:22–​23, God is displaying masculinity to Ezekiel. And the prophet’s masculinity, like any human’s, cannot compare. At the same time, the revelation of God’s glory can be viewed as an act of aggression, in which God’s masculinity is inflicted upon the prophet, thereby compromising his masculinity.

410   Amy Kalmanofsky God’s apparent need to both assert masculinity and inflict it upon Ezekiel would help to explain the frequent use of ‫ ּ ֶבן־אָ ָדם‬ben-ˀāḏām “mortal, son of man, human,” when God directly addresses Ezekiel.34 Although ‫ אָ ָדם‬can have the collective, non-​gendered meaning of humanity,35 I suggest that the repeated use in direct address of ‫ּ ֶבן־אָ ָדם‬ “son of man”36 intentionally marks the distinction between Ezekiel’s human maleness and God’s divine maleness. Over and over again, God reminds Ezekiel that he is only a man—​a mortal man. Whereas God is the divine male—​possessed of an impressive and deadly “hand”—​Ezekiel is only a human, a descendant of Adam. He is a product of human procreation—​limited by his mortality. Ezekiel 5:1–​4 displays a similar gender dynamic: You, human, take a sharp sword, use it as a razor and pass it over your head and beard. Take scales and divide them [viz. the clumps of hair]. Take a third and burn it in the city when the days of the siege are over. Take a third and cut it up with the sword around it, and a third scatter to the wind; and I will unsheathe a sword after it. You will take a small amount, and tie them up in your skirts. And take more of them and cast them in the fire and burn them in the fire. From this a fire shall go forth over all of the house of Israel.

Ezekiel’s haircut can be seen as part of his transformation into a prophet, and as a means to defile his status as a priest.37 Meanwhile, as we have observed, priestly status is related to gender status. In light of this, Ezekiel’s haircut can be seen as an assault on his gender—​as a symbolic castration. Throughout history, hair was a symbol of vitality and manhood.38 As Susan Niditch notes, “in ancient Israel, as elsewhere in the wider ancient Near Eastern and Mediterranean world, the young warrior was frequently pictured as wild haired or long haired, the hair possibly relating to his warrior’s prowess and power.”39 Victors would cut the hair of defeated warriors to humiliate them and mark their loss of manhood.40 In this light, Ezekiel’s haircut is an assault on his manhood.41 (Notably, Israel faces a similar assault in 5:11, as God threatens to shear Israel into thirds—​like Ezekiel’s hair.)

4.  God Shields’s analysis shows how Ezekiel 16 presents God as male, and how the gender rhetoric in that chapter works to ensure patriarchal power and to secure God’s position as the most powerful male. As Hooker suggests, God’s manhood is on display elsewhere in Ezekiel, as well. Given this rampant masculinity, my claim of God’s gender instability may seem far from obvious. Yet, I assert that God does exhibit gender instability in Ezekiel, based on four lines of evidence. First, God’s compromised masculinity is apparent in the context of the marriage metaphor. God, the most powerful male, cannot control his wife, as Shields observes with regard to Ezekiel 23:

Ezekiel and Gender    411 Within the sexual economy described in the text, Yhwh’s identity as the ultimate male also has fractures. Although Yhwh is attempting to assert power and control (even over emotions and thoughts, v. 27), the very description of the sisters’ lovers indicates just how out of control he is.42

While her promiscuity incriminates her, it also damages God’s reputation, as 36:21–​22 makes clear: I will have compassion for my holy name, which the house of Israel has profaned among the nations to which they have come. Therefore, say to the house of Israel: Thus says my lord Yhwh. It is not for your sakes that I do this, but rather for the sake of my holy name, which you profaned among the nations to which you have come.

A second line of evidence for gender instability appears in the oracles against the nations, which express the damage done to God’s reputation and the efforts to restore it. The arrogant foreign nations do not acknowledge God’s power, as 28:2 conveys: Human, say to the prince of Tyre: Thus says my lord Yhwh. On account of your arrogance, in that you’ve said, “I am a god, and I sit like a god in the heart of the sea.” But you are a man—​and not a god—​though you considered your heart to be the heart of a god.

By challenging God’s power, the foreign nations implicitly challenge God’s masculinity. In response, God unsheathes a sword and lets the foreign nations know who the real man is, as 29:8–​9 illustrates: Therefore, thus says my lord Yhwh: I am bringing a sword upon you and will cut off man and beast from you. The land of Egypt will become a desolation and a waste, and they will know that I am Yhwh, because he [viz. Pharaoh] said: “The Nile is mine and I made it.”

A third textual indicator of God’s compromised masculinity appears in the revelation of God’s glory in Ezekiel 1 and 8. In these chapters, God appears to the prophet as the figure of a man [‫ ְּכמַ ְראֵ ה אָ ָדם‬ḵəmarˀēh ˀāḏām] with fiery loins (1:26, 8:2). Certainly, God’s power is on full display in these revelations. Therefore, the absence of genitals may simply reflect a reluctance to fully anthropomorphize or to sexualize God. Yet it is also possible to view that absence as indicating an alternative gender identity—​one that is not purely male. Following Graybill’s definition, God may have a queer body in that it deviates from “the norms of the body as complete, sufficient, capable, and present.”43 Alternatively, the silence about genitals may communicate a compromised masculinity. God appears to Ezekiel in exile. God’s incomplete body, the lack of a male marker, may indicate the ways in which God’s very being, and not just reputation, has been compromised by Israel’s exile.

412   Amy Kalmanofsky The fourth and final indicator of God’s compromised masculinity occurs in Ezekiel’s vision of Israel’s apostasy in the Jerusalem temple. In 8:7–​9, the prophet first witnesses Israel’s abominations through a hole [‫ חֹר‬ḥōr] in the temple wall. He then proceeds, as instructed, to widen the hole by burrowing and thus enter the temple. Just as a sword can be a phallic image, I suggest that the hole in the temple wall is a gynomorphic image.44 The prophet enters the temple as a man enters a woman, suggesting that God’s defiled house at this moment reflects God’s defiled and feminized body.45

5.  Conclusions As my analysis reveals, Israel is not the only character in Ezekiel to exhibit gender instability. Israel, the prophet, and God all do so. This finding challenges the commonplace notions that gender identity is inviolable, and that the Bible constructs gender exclusively around a strict male-​female binary. Rather, this book’s characterization of Israel asks men to identify as women. Its characterizations of the prophet and God demonstrate how masculinity is not a stable given; it can be compromised. I certainly agree with Shields and Yee that gender instability is a powerful rhetorical tool that evokes discomfort and shame—​and forces those who encounter it to readjust their perspectives and change their behaviors. Yet, I conclude that gender instability in Ezekiel is more than a powerful rhetorical tool. It communicates something essential about the relationships between God, Israel, and the prophet. It demonstrates the dynamism of their relationships and the shifting power dynamics among them. All three central characters are male. Yet the quality of their maleness depends on their engagement with one another. Ezekiel and Israel become less male when they encounter God—​the ultimate male. Surprisingly, God becomes less male upon encountering sinful Israel. As an intermediary between God and the people, the prophet’s gender identity is shaped by his relationship with both. He becomes less male when he engages directly with and submits to God, as is evident when he is bound and gagged in 3:24–​27. He becomes more male when he engages directly with Israel, as is evident in Ezekiel 24 when the prophet, like God, assumes the role of husband. Sometimes, the prophet shares Israel’s humiliation and compromised masculinity, as is manifest by the haircut that both must endure in Ezekiel 5.46 Recognizing gender instability beyond the marriage metaphor in Ezekiel enriches our understanding of the book’s gender rhetoric and the ways in which the text privileges masculinity. Maleness is the preferred gender identity for God, the prophet, and Israel. Compromised masculinity and femaleness indicate weakness—​and functions to protect and privilege maleness. Even Ezekiel’s compromised masculinity, which results from his intimacy with God as a prophet, asserts God’s supreme maleness. Ezekiel has to be weak so God can be strong. Furthermore, perceiving gender instability promotes a complex understanding of gender in Ezekiel; it reveals the ways in which gender is not fixed, but fluid. In Ezekiel,

Ezekiel and Gender    413 gender identity is relational. God, the prophet, and Israel are in a dynamic relationship with one another. Each impacts the other in profound ways that—​given the complexities of the participants’ relationships—​are ever subject to change.

Notes 1. In Ezekiel 23, God has two wives: Samaria (Oholah) and Jerusalem (Oholibah). 2. Gerlinde Baumann locates prophetic marriage imagery in Isa 1:21, 50:1, 54:1–​6, 57:6–​13, 62:4–​5; Jer 2:1–​3, 13, 4:1–​31,13:20–​27; Ezek 16, 23; Hos 2:1–​23, 9:1; Mic 1:6–​7; Nah 3:4–​7; Mal 2:10:16. She also finds the imagery in Lam 1:1–​22. See Gerlinde Baumann, Love and Violence: Marriage as Metaphor for the Relationship between YHWH and Israel in the Prophetic Books, trans. Linda M. Maloney (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2003), 41. 3. See Linda Day, “Rhetoric and Domestic Violence in Ezekiel 16,” Biblical Interpretation 8, no. 3 (2000): 205–​230; Peggy L. Day, “Adulterous Jerusalem’s Imagined Demise: Death of a Metaphor in Ezekiel XVI,” Vestus Testamentum 50, no. 3 (2000): 285–​309; Fokkelien van Dijk-​Hemmes, “The Metaphorization of Woman in Prophetic Speech: An Analysis of Ezekiel XXIII,” Vestus Testamentum 43, no. 2 (1993): 162–​170; Mary E. Shields, “An Abusive God? Identity and Power/​Gender and Violence in Ezekiel 23,” in Postmodern Interpretations of the Bible: A Reader, ed. A. K. M. Adam; St. Louis, MO: Chalice, 2001), 129–​151; Mary E. Shields, “Multiple Exposures: Body Rhetoric and Gender Characterization in Ezekiel 16,” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 14, no. 1 (1998): 5–​18. On the marriage metaphor, see Baumann, Love and Violence; Athalya Brenner, “Some Reflections on Violence against Women and the Image of the Hebrew God,” in On the Cutting Edge: The Study of Women in Biblical Worlds: Essays in Honor of Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, ed. Jane Schaberg, Alice Bach, and Esther Fuchs (New York: Continuum, 2004), 69–​81; Stuart Macwilliam, Queer Theory and the Prophetic Marriage Metaphor in the Hebrew Bible (Sheffield: Equinox, 2011). 4. Shields, “Multiple Exposures,” 12. 5. Shields, “Multiple Exposures,” 14. Like Israel, God is representative of manly gender—​ although, as Shields notes, God’s power, unlike human male power, is absolute. 6. Gale A. Yee, Poor Banished Children of Eve: Woman as Evil in the Hebrew Bible (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003), 57. 7. Carleen R. Mandolfo, Daughter Zion Talks Back to the Prophets: A Dialogic Theology of the Book of Lamentations (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2007), 31. 8. Mandolfo, Daughter Zion Talks Back, 15. 9. Mandolfo, Daughter Zion Talks Back, 31. 10. Van Dijk-​Hemmes, “Metaphorization of Woman,” 169. 11. Yee observes how the metaphor captures the physical and emotional trauma of conquest; she writes: “Ezekiel’s theological (re)construction of Israelite history and his singularly pornographic descriptions of the nation as an adulterous and defiled woman are framed by the trauma he experienced from the following acts of state-​sponsored terrorism: (1) the barbaric conquest of Jerusalem, (2) the destruction of the temple and his lifework, (3) his exile to a foreign land, (4) his radical loss of status and prestige, and (5) his forced labor in an unfamiliar occupation” (Banished Children, 117). 12. Yee, Banished Children, 122. 13. Queer theory describes a method of reading that exposes how texts construct gender—​ and how gender, in turn, is ideologically driven. As Deryn Guest asserts: “Consistent with

414   Amy Kalmanofsky its arm of political activism, the confrontational, uncompromising stance of queer theory is one of resistance to such binaries: subverting, undoing, deconstructing the normalcy of sex/​gender regimes, cracking them open, focusing on the fissures that expose their constructedness.” “From Gender Reversal to Genderfuck: Reading Jael through a Lesbian Lens,” in Bible Trouble: Queer Reading at the Boundaries of Biblical Scholarship, ed. Teresa J. Hornsby and Ken Stone (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2011), 9. 14. Macwilliam, Queer Theory, 154–​155. 15. Macwilliam, Queer Theory, 212. 16. Corrine L. Patton, “Priest, Prophet, and Exile: Ezekiel as a Literary Construct,” in Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World: Wrestling with a Tiered Reality, ed. Stephen L. Cook and Corrine L. Patton (SBL Symposium Series 31; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2004), 79. 17. Ezekiel specifically mentions the women weeping for Tammuz in 8:14. 18. All biblical translations are my own. It is notoriously difficult to translate the root ‫ זני‬z-​ n-​y, which refers to illicit sexual behavior. On the difficulties and implications of rendering words from this root, see Bryan Bibb, “There’s No Sex in Your Violence: Patriarchal Translation in Ezekiel 16 and 23,” Review & Expositor 111, no. 4 (2014): 337–​345. 19. I discuss the impact of their sisterhood in Dangerous Sisters of the Hebrew Bible (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2014), 53–​68. 20. The Bible’s priestly writers consider menstrual blood (Lev 15:19–​24) and the blood of childbirth (Leviticus 12) as sources of impurity. 21. Shields notes the plural ‫ דָּ מַ י ְִך‬dāmayiḵ “your bloods” in 16:9 and suggests that this unusual usage implies the presence of two kinds: “the blood of menstruation associated with her pubescent state, and the hymenal blood associated with her marriage to Yahweh.” She then elaborates: “Each of these types of blood is associated with the female gender alone. In addition, each type of blood causes contamination that requires ritual cleansing. Such references to blood emphasize the woman’s body and associate that body with uncleanness” (“Multiple Exposures,” 9). 22. Ezekiel 18:6 and 22:10 mention the menstruating woman as a figure who must not be touched. 23. Mandolofo, Daughter Zion Talks Back, 46. 24. I assert that it is worse to be an unclean woman than a shamed woman. Whereas a shamed woman must be punished, an unclean woman must be removed; as Shields notes: “By repeatedly connecting women with uncleanness, the text places women completely outside the boundaries of society; no longer representing society’s limits, they now seem to be excluded completely” (“Multiple Exposures,” 13). 25. Most scholars thus assume that Ezekiel was of the Zadokite branch of the priesthood that had controlled Jerusalem’s temple since the time of Solomon. See Yee, Banished Children, 116–​117. 26. Yee, Banished Children, 119. 27. Patton outlines these differences in “Priest, Prophet, and Exile,” 74–​79. 28. As Amos does in Amos 7:10–​17 and Jeremiah does in Jer 20:1–​6. 29. Patton notes how Ezekiel’s “ironic use of the prophetic epithet illustrates the text’s complex attitude toward the prophetic office” (“Priest, Prophet, and Exile,” 76). In contrast, Patton observes about the priesthood: “All of the studies agree that the priest holds an elevated position, although it is often subordinated to political powers. This priestly office is part of a larger program of social maintenance associated with the temple; as a result, priesthood is often characterized as traditional, static, and opposed to innovation. . . . In addition to

Ezekiel and Gender    415 the priest’s responsibility for ritual and social maintenance mentioned above, however, Israelite prophets stress the priest’s role as teacher, presumably referring to ritual instruction” (77). 30. Margaret S. Odell perceives the acts that Ezekiel performs in c­hapters 1–​ 5 as a “counterinitiation, a series of acts whereby he relinquishes his priestly status,” and becomes a prophet (“You Are What You Eat: Ezekiel and the Scroll,” Journal of Biblical Literature 117, no. 2 (1998): 237). 31. Rhiannon Graybill, Are We Not Men? Unstable Masculinity in the Hebrew Prophets (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), 5. 32. Graybill, Are We Not Men?, 104. 33. Alan Hooker, “ ‘Show Me Your Glory’: The KABOD of Yahweh as Phallic Manifestation,” in Biblical Masculinities Foregrounded, ed. Ovidiu Creangă and Peter-​Ben Smit (Hebrew Bible Monographs 62; Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2014), 20. Roland Boer examines phallic imagery in prophetic texts in “Spermatic Spluttering Pens: Concerning the Construction and Breakdown of Prophetic Masculinity,” in Prophets Male and Female: Gender and Prophecy in the Hebrew Bible, the Eastern Mediterranean, and the Ancient Near East, ed. Jonathan Stökl and Corrine L. Carvalho (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2013), 215–​235. 34. God addresses Ezekiel 93 times in the book as ‫בן־אָ ָדם‬. ֶּ 35. See Phyllis Trible’s discussion of the meaning of ‫ אָ ָדם‬in God and the Rhetoric of Sexuality (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1978), 79–​80. 36. Priestly literature uses ‫ אָ ָדם‬and not ‫ ּ ֶבן־אָ ָדם‬as the subject of address. See Lev 1:2; 13:2; and Num 19:14. This suggests that Ezekiel intentionally modifies the term. 37. Leviticus 21:5 prohibits priests from shaving their heads or beards. 38. Susan Niditch writes: “Edmund Leach’s interesting discussion of Freudian treatments of hair symbolism points to the universal association between hair and sexuality; the hair is often a symbolic substitute for the genitals or for sexual potency, or a manifestation of sexuality.” “Samson as Culture Hero, Trickster, and Bandit: The Empowerment of the Weak,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 52, no. 4 (1990): 616. 39. Susan Niditch, “My Brother Esau Is a Hairy Man”: Hair and Identity in Ancient Israel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 77. 40. See Niditch, “Samson as Culture Hero,” 617; and T. M. Lemos, “Shame and Mutilation of Enemies in the Hebrew Bible,” Journal of Biblical Literature 125, no. 2 (2006): 233. 41. Corrine L. Carvalho makes a similar argument about God’s command that Ezekiel not mourn his wife in Ezekiel 24. Carvalho argues that public mourning rituals “functioned within gender expectations.” “Sex and the Single Prophet: Marital Status and Gender in Jeremiah and Ezekiel,” in Prophets Male and Female: Gender and Prophecy in the Hebrew Bible, the Eastern Mediterranean, and the Ancient Near East, ed. Jonathan Stökl and Corrine L. Carvalho (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2013), 244. According to Carvalho, God’s prohibition deprives Ezekiel of the opportunity to display appropriate gender behavior—​and therefore functions to shame him as a male (246). 42. Mary E. Shields, “An Abusive God,” 148–​149. 43. Graybill, Are We Not Men?, 5. 44. Similar imagery occurs in Song 5:4. 45. In the context of Jeremiah’s oracles against the nations, I address the idea of God’s sexual violation. See Amy Kalmanofsky, “ ‘As She Did, Do to Her!’: Jeremiah’s OAN as Revenge Fantasies,” in Concerning the Nations: Essays on the Oracles Against the Nations in Isaiah,

416   Amy Kalmanofsky Jeremiah and Ezekiel, ed. Else K. Holt, Hyun Chul Paul Kim, and Andrew Mein (LHBOTS 612; London: Bloomsbury, 2015), 119–​123. 46. Israel’s inflicted baldness is mentioned in Ezek 7:18.

Bibliography Baumann, Gerlinde. Love and Violence: Marriage as Metaphor for the Relationship between YHWH and Israel in the Prophetic Books, translated by Linda M. Maloney. Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2003. Bibb, Bryan. “There’s No Sex in Your Violence: Patriarchal Translation in Ezekiel 16 and 23.” Review & Expositor 111, no. 4 (2014): 337–​345. Brenner, Athalya. “Some Reflections on Violence against Women and the Image of the Hebrew God.” In On the Cutting Edge: The Study of Women in Biblical Worlds: Essays in Honor of Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, edited by Jane Schaberg, Alice Bach, and Esther Fuchs, 69–​81. New York: Continuum, 2004. Carvalho, Corrine L. “Sex and the Single Prophet: Marital Status and Gender in Jeremiah and Ezekiel.” In Prophets Male and Female: Gender and Prophecy in the Hebrew Bible, the Eastern Mediterranean, and the Ancient Near East, edited by Jonathan Stökl and Corrine L. Carvalho, 237–​267. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2013. Day, Linda. “Rhetoric and Domestic Violence in Ezekiel 16.” Biblical Interpretation 8, no. 3 (2000): 205–​230. Day, Peggy L. “Adulterous Jerusalem’s Imagined Demise: Death of a Metaphor in Ezekiel XVI.” Vestus Testamentum 50, no. 3 (2000): 285–​309. Graybill, Rhiannon. Are We Not Men? Unstable Masculinity in the Hebrew Prophets. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016. Guest, Deryn. “From Gender Reversal to Genderfuck: Reading Jael through a Lesbian Lens.” In Bible Trouble: Queer Reading at the Boundaries of Biblical Scholarship, edited by Teresa J. Hornsby and Ken Stone, 9–​44. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2011. Hooker, Alan. “ ‘Show Me Your Glory’: The KABOD of Yahweh as Phallic Manifestation.” In Biblical Masculinities Foregrounded, edited by Ovidiu Creangă and Peter-​Ben Smit, 17–​34. Hebrew Bible Monographs 62. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2014. Kalmanofsky, Amy. “ ‘As She Did, Do to Her!’: Jeremiah’s OAN as Revenge Fantasies.” In Concerning the Nations: Essays on the Oracles Against the Nations in Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel, edited by Else K. Holt, Hyun Chul Paul Kim, and Andrew Mein, 109–​127. LHBOTS 612. London: Bloomsbury, 2015. Kalmanofsky, Amy. Dangerous Sisters of the Hebrew Bible. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2014. Lemos, Tracy M. “Shame and Mutilation of Enemies in the Hebrew Bible.” Journal of Biblical Literature 125, no. 2 (2006): 225–​241. Macwilliam, Stuart. Queer Theory and the Prophetic Marriage Metaphor in the Hebrew Bible. Sheffield: Equinox, 2011. Mandolfo, Carleen R. Daughter Zion Talks Back to the Prophets: A Dialogic Theology of the Book of Lamentations. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2007. Niditch, Susan. “My Brother Esau Is a Hairy Man”: Hair and Identity in Ancient Israel. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008. Niditch, Susan. “Samson as Culture Hero, Trickster, and Bandit: The Empowerment of the Weak.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 52, no. 4 (1990): 608–​624.

Ezekiel and Gender    417 Odell, Margaret S. “You Are What You Eat: Ezekiel and the Scroll.” Journal of Biblical Literature 117, no. 2 (1998): 229–​248. Patton, Corrine L. “Priest, Prophet, and Exile: Ezekiel as a Literary Construct.” In Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World: Wrestling with a Tiered Reality, edited by Stephen L. Cook and Corrine L. Patton, 73–​89. SBL Symposium Series 31. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2004. Shields, Mary E. “An Abusive God? Identity and Power/​Gender and Violence in Ezekiel 23.” In Postmodern Interpretations of the Bible: A Reader, edited by A. K. M. Adam, 129–​151. St. Louis, MO: Chalice, 2001. Shields, Mary E. “Multiple Exposures: Body Rhetoric and Gender Characterization in Ezekiel 16.” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 14, no. 1 (1998): 5–​18. Trible, Phyllis. God and the Rhetoric of Sexuality. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1978. van Dijk-​Hemmes, Fokkelien. “The Metaphorization of Woman in Prophetic Speech: An Analysis of Ezekiel XXIII.” Vestus Testamentum 43, no. 2 (1993): 162–​170. Yee, Gale A. Poor Banished Children of Eve: Woman as Evil in the Hebrew Bible. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2003.

Chapter 22

Em b odim ent i n E z e k i e l Rhiannon Graybill

The book of Ezekiel is a book filled with bodies. While this statement could be applied to any number of prophetic texts, in Ezekiel the representation of embodiment reaches distinct intensity. From the first chapter, when Yahweh’s body makes its glorious appearance in a fiery chariot, bodies enter into the text in striking and sometimes disturbing ways. The bodies of Ezekiel are human, divine, animal, or even a mixture of these categories. They are tortured, stripped naked, marked by divine messengers, and then ruthlessly struck down by the sword. Sometimes, the pain of the body results from warfare or in the active punishment of stoning; at other points, it comes through stillness and silence. And beyond pain and performance, bodies hold possibilities for pleasure, as well as for the reimagining of the ordering of the world. It is not for nothing that the most famous bodies in this book, beyond the body of Yahweh (Ezekiel. 1), are the dry bones that come back to life (Ezekiel. 37). If dry bones can live, then there is no limit to the work that bodies can do, in and for the text. In introducing embodiment in the book of Ezekiel, I will begin by conducting a census of the bodies in Ezekiel. These include not only deity, prophet, and revivified dry bones, but also a range of human and heavenly bodies. With the inventory concluded, I will turn to theorize the significance of embodiment and its figuration in key themes in the book of Ezekiel. These include the body in relation to power, the body as perceptual apparatus, the tortured body, the body in nakedness and dress, and the body in relation to (queer) masculinity. Embodiment is essential to all of these formulations, suggesting its necessity and creativity in constructing and deconstructing meanings in and around the book.

1.  A Census of Bodies in the Book of Ezekiel The book of Ezekiel contains a striking diversity of bodies. Among their number, these bodies include divine, human, animal hybrid, and even dead and desiccated corpses.

Embodiment in Ezekiel    419

1.1  Yahweh and Other Supernatural Bodies The most dramatic body in the book of Ezekiel belongs to Yahweh. Yahweh is revealed over the course of an elaborate theophany that unfolds through the opening three chapters of the book, climaxing with the revelation of the divine body at the end of ­chapter 1. This theophany includes a more detailed description of Yahweh’s body than any other single text in the Hebrew Bible. The theophany unfolds in stages, increasing its dramatic effect. Ezekiel first hears a sound coming from the north. He perceives a cloud of stormy brightness; in it are four creatures. These beings, identified as cherubim in 10:1 but referred to in 1:5 only as ‫חַ ּיו ֹת‬ ḥayyôṯ “living creatures,” combine animal and human features:1 This was their appearance: they were of human form. Each had four faces, and each of them had four wings. Their legs were straight, and the soles of their feet were like the sole of a calf ’s foot; and they sparkled like burnished bronze. Under their wings on their four sides they had human hands. And the four had their faces and their wings thus: their wings touched one another; each of them moved straight ahead, without turning as they moved. As for the appearance of their faces: the four had the face of a human being, the face of a lion on the right side, the face of an ox on the left side, and the face of an eagle; such were their faces. Their wings were spread out above; each creature had two wings, each of which touched the wing of another, while two covered their bodies. Each moved straight ahead; wherever the spirit would go, they went, without turning as they went. (1:5b–​12)

The hybrid creatures described resemble those found in ancient Near Eastern art and architecture, where such human-​animal combinations are common. Like other instances of transgression of divine/​human or human/​animal boundaries in the biblical text, they are both powerful and dangerous. They also stand in a complicated relation to the divine body, at once separate from it and an extension of its holiness. The text presents cloud—​creatures—​chariot—​divine figure as a sort of animal/​machine/​ human continuum, even as the divine body itself is set apart. At the same time, the presence of cherubim (as these creatures are later identified in 10:1), signals the presence of the deity.2 Furthermore, while the creatures and chariot can be described in detail in the text (and are), the divine body has the effect of confounding description. The text begins to describe Yahweh’s body, though the account is never fully completed. Ezekiel perceives a chariot with a throne; upon it sits a human figure: “seated above the likeness of a throne was something that seemed like a human form” (1:26). Along with fire, this form appears like ‫ חַ ׁ ְשמַ ל‬ḥašmal, often translated as “amber” or “electrum” but with a meaning ultimately unknown. Ezekiel’s eyes are drawn to the divine loins.3 When Ezekiel gazes upon them, he collapses on his face at Yahweh’s feet (1:28). There are further glimpses of Yahweh’s body subsequently in the book; none, however, are as detailed as the theophany in ­chapter 1. Chapter 8 includes a second theophany, described with explicit reference to the prior theophany in 1, noting “the glory

420   Rhiannon Graybill of the God of Israel was there, like the vision that I had seen in the valley” (8:4). Yahweh himself shepherds Ezekiel through the temple, before commissioning a “man clothed in linen, with a writing case at his side” to execute judgment upon the people. This man in linen is one of a series of divinely-​associated human figures who appear in Ezekiel’s visions, particularly as he is transported to Jerusalem and the temple, whether for scenes of destruction (­chapter 8) or restoration (40–​48). The linen-​clad man carries a writing case and marks the foreheads of those who are to be spared; all others are slaughtered by six additional otherworldly men who appear to perform this task (9:1–​11). The cherubim, who are seemingly identical to the “living creatures” from the original theophany, also return in the second vision. The vision that concludes the book (40–​48) includes another heavenly man, “whose appearance shone like bronze, with a linen cord and a measuring reed in his hand” (40:3), a near-​repeat of the man from ­chapters 8–​10. (This heavenly messenger figure prefigures a common trope in apocalyptic literature—​he is lifted wholesale by John of Patmos into the book of Revelation, e.g., 1:9–​20.) As with the creatures/​cherubim, the messengers’ unnatural appearance presages their supernatural power. Returning to Yahweh’s body, there remains the question of why it appears in such detail in the opening theophany. Perhaps because Yahweh is appearing to his prophet outside of the land and the temple in Jerusalem, he must put in an especially dramatic appearance. There is a one-​upmanship of Isaiah (who has a vision of Yahweh in the temple and who sees the edge of the divine garment, Isa 6:1–​5) and of Jeremiah (who even eats Yahweh’s words, though only metaphorically, Jer 15:16). (Later biblical literature likewise shifts to increased descriptiveness, particularly of a visual nature, yet the only description of the divine body that approaches Ezekiel’s is found in Daniel.) The imagery borrows from Akkadian visual representations of divine power that are contemporaneous with the book’s composition. As Sean Zelig Aster demonstrates, this imagery in Ezekiel does not come from earlier representations in the Torah, but rather is influenced by Mesopotamian visual and theological representations of the melammu.4 The importance and singularity of the divine body is underscored by its spectacular appearance. The descriptions of Yahweh’s body also raise the question of the degree to which this body appears human. The form of the divine body seems to be basically anthropomorphic. At the same time, the text is careful to insert distancing language, as well as to refer to the divine ‫ ּ ָכבו ֹד‬ḵāḇôḏ or “glory.” Of the opening vision, Benjamin D. Sommer writes, “Ezekiel is careful not to equate this divine body with a typical human body (it had not ‘loins’ but ‘what resembled loins’), but for all his careful verbal reservations, he makes clear that the kabod looks rather like a human body.”5 As Esther J. Hamori points out, strategies such as referring to the ‫ כבוד‬in place of Yahweh’s body “do not avoid anthropomorphism . . . but only replace one form of anthropomorphism with another,” reflecting “the innate tension in portraying a God with a personal interest in humans and human history while attempting to avoid too crass an outline of the deity.”6 This tension is especially pronounced in the book of Ezekiel.

Embodiment in Ezekiel    421

1.2  Ezekiel Equally significant, though significantly less dramatic, is the body of Ezekiel. The prophet appears in the first lines of the book, where he describes himself as located on the banks of the Chebar canal in Babylon, “among the exiles” (1:1). Ezekiel is identified as a priest (1:3), a detail with some significance for his body, as priests face a range of rules regulating their bodily expression.7 Aside from this detail, we initially know very little about the prophet’s body. Instead, it enters the text gradually, through his senses: Ezekiel first hears Yahweh’s chariot approaching, then sees it, then falls on his face before it. Subsequently, he eats the word of Yahweh, which appears to him on a scroll (2:10–​3:3), before being struck dumb (3:26). The prophet is, however, provided with bodily fortification against the recalcitrant and troublesome people he is sent to address: “I have made your face hard against their faces, and your forehead hard against their foreheads” (3:8). Though the image is primarily metaphorical, the significance of the body in the book of Ezekiel summons us to take embodiment seriously, even in the realm of metaphor. As the treatment of the prophet in the opening scenes suggests, Ezekiel’s body has two main functions in the book: as medium of prophecy and as passive, acted-​upon object. Unlike most biblical prophets, who begin with words, Ezekiel’s prophecy is initially a series of performances, the so-​called sign acts, in which he lies on his side, prophesies against a model city, eats symbolic yet disgusting food (bread baked on excrement), and cuts his hair and beard with a sword. These actions make the body central to prophecy.8 Notably, the people do not respond to Ezekiel’s prophecy in any meaningful or effective way; the body fails at the communicative task. At other points in the text, Ezekiel is primarily acted upon, as when he is transported in visions back to the Jerusalem temple (­chapter 8) and to the rebuilt capital (40–​48). In these passages, Ezekiel’s primary focus is to watch and observe. As in the opening theophany, he functions as perceptual apparatus. Frequently, his body is moved or transported by the hand of God. At still other points in the text, Ezekiel’s body fades into the background. This occurs, for example, in the oracles against the nations (­chapters 25–​32), a series of vitriolic prophecies against foreign nations (and a standard prophetic genre). It is also the case in the final vision of the restored Jerusalem and temple (­chapters 40–​48). Initially, Ezekiel is, as before, bodily transported, yet upon arrival his body fades almost entirely from the narrative. In ­chapter 47, he does walk through the water; and his body becomes the measure of its depth. Even here, however, his body serves primarily to facilitate the perception of the scene by others; his walking becomes an embodied mode of measurement. The final chapter is a description and allocation of land to the tribes; Ezekiel’s body is replaced with the imagined bodies of thousands of others, who have returned to the city to fill it. In the final line, the city as corporate body replaces the prophetic body entirely: “The circumference of the city shall be eighteen thousand cubits. And the name of the city from that time on shall be, The Lord is There” (48:35). In short, while the prophet’s body recedes in significance as the final vision unfolds, it remains—​particularly in the opening chapters—​essential to prophecy.

422   Rhiannon Graybill

1.3  Judean Male Bodies Ezekiel is tasked with prophecy; the recipients of his message are the people of Judah—​ implicitly, a male collective.9 These Judeans are first described by Yahweh in ­chapter 2, where they are repeatedly identified as “rebels” and a “rebellious house.” In c­ hapter 3, this rebelliousness is given bodily valence: “all the house of Israel have a hard forehead and a stubborn heart” (3:7). As already described, Ezekiel’s own body must be equipped against them, with a hard face and forehead (3:8). The Judeans’ resistance is transposed into abominable bodily practices in Ezekiel’s vision in ­chapters 8–​10. Ezekiel first sees images of “all kinds of creeping things, and loathsome animals, and all the idols of the house of Israel,” with the elders standing worshipfully before them. Even this proximity to vile representations risks contaminating the bodies of the Judeans. The scene then escalates to bodily practices of idol worship, first the women “weeping for Tammuz” (8:14) and then something even worse: And he brought me into the inner court of the house of the Lord; there, at the entrance of the temple of the Lord, between the porch and the altar, were about twenty-​ five men, with their backs to the temple of the Lord, and their faces toward the east, prostrating themselves to the sun toward the east. (8:16)

The passage presents a clear escalation—​from offensive images to passive worship to female weeping to bodily prostration. The women are singled out in this passage, indicating their exclusion from the general group of male Judeans. It is bodily posture that indicates the ultimate betrayal of Yahweh. The punishment for these transgressions is violent death by the sword, effected by the linen-​dressed man at Yahweh’s command. At subsequent points in Ezekiel, the bodies of the Judeans reappear, though mostly without the intensity of the scene in the temple in c­ hapters 8–​10 (one exception is the cauldron of body parts in 24:1–​11). The prophet foretells various hideous fates; still, the people largely ignore him. Occasionally, their bodies return to the text, as when they are struck down by Yahweh’s messengers (e.g., 9:5–​10) or otherwise threatened or killed. The undistinguished male bodies come to the attention of the text only to provide a visual and material enactment of Yahweh’s prophecy and power.

1.4  Female Bodies There are only a few female bodies in the book of Ezekiel. Still, those that appear are described in graphic detail. The exception is Ezekiel’s wife, who appears in the text only to be killed by Yahweh as an object lesson to the people ( 24:16–​25).10 The bodily focus in that passage is on the embodied practices of mourning, including dress and shaving, which are forbidden to Ezekiel; the wife’s body is merely something to be killed but not mourned.

Embodiment in Ezekiel    423 Far more detailed are the descriptions of the metaphorical female bodies of ­chapters 16 and 23. Both chapters offer extended narrations of the so-​called marriage metaphor; Ezekiel 16 describes Yahweh’s relationship with Jerusalem as a violent and unfaithful marriage; Ezekiel 23 offers a similar story, but with two sisters, Oholah and Oholibah, who stand for Samaria and Jerusalem. Both of these chapters describe the female body in graphic detail. Ezekiel 16 begins with Jerusalem’s birth: “As for your birth, on the day you were born your navel cord was not cut, nor were you washed with water to cleanse you, nor rubbed with salt, nor wrapped in cloths” (v. 4); when Yahweh finds her, she is “flailing in her blood” (v. 6). While this passage is sometimes used to reconstruct ancient norms of birth and infant care, it is also a striking account of the abandonment and nakedness of the female child. Jerusalem is taken in by Yahweh and grows up; the text continues its interest in her body. Because of the many details of the body, it is worth quoting in full: You grew up and became tall and arrived at full womanhood; your breasts were formed, and your hair had grown; yet you were naked and bare. I passed by you again and looked on you; you were at the age for love. I spread the edge of my cloak over you, and covered your nakedness: I pledged myself to you and entered into a covenant with you, says the Lord God, and you became mine. Then I bathed you with water and washed off the blood from you, and anointed you with oil. I clothed you with embroidered cloth and with sandals of fine leather; I bound you in fine linen and covered you with rich fabric. (vv. 7b–​10)

A detailed description of her clothing follows. In the passage, Yahweh specifically notes Jerusalem’s entry into sexual maturity with reference to the development of secondary sex characteristics (breasts and pubic hair, the “hair” of verse 7). He then undertakes a series of practices that beautify the female form, including washing, anointing, and adorning with jewelry and fine clothing. The goal is not simply beauty, but the recognition of female beauty by others, as indicated in verse 14, “Your fame spread among the nations on account of your beauty.” Thus, the female body is a commodity that is valuable insofar as it glorifies its male possessor. This arrangement is flipped in what follows, as Jerusalem seeks out other lovers. Adultery is a common biblical metaphor for the worship of other gods; this is the logic that grounds the marriage metaphor. In Ezekiel, both the adultery and the punishment that it inspires are spelled out in graphic detail, centering in both cases on the representation of the female body. The beauty of Jerusalem’s body, described in the account of her sexual maturity and marriage to Yahweh, is replaced by violent punishment, commanded by Yahweh but executed by Jerusalem’s lovers, who will strip her, take possessions, raise a mob against her, stone her, cut her into pieces, and burn her home (vv.39–​41). The adornment of the body is reversed and replaced with stripping. Furthermore, the body is subjected to penetrative violence; as commentators have noted, the punishment has overtones of sexual assault and violent pornography.11 It resembles as well the Sotah ritual, prescribed in the biblical text as a means of testing accusations of adultery (Numbers 5) and also centered on the exposure and torture of

424   Rhiannon Graybill the female body. In Ezekiel 16, the punishment of Jerusalem, while carried out by her lovers, occurs “in the sight of many women,” pointing to the importance of the spectator relation. Jerusalem’s female body is made a sign for other women; their role is to observe and learn from it. Ezekiel 23 offers a similar story, though with two sisters (though Ezekiel 16 does invoke the sister trope briefly with reference to Samaria and Sodom as sisters in vv. 46–​56). The metaphor of “playing the whore” is used again, with particular interest in the details of the female body (for example, “fondling the breasts” occurs repeatedly in this passage). And again, the description of punishment is almost pornographic in its exposure of the female body and the treatment of its parts: I will direct my indignation against you, in order that they may deal with you in fury. They shall cut off your nose and your ears, and your survivors shall fall by the sword. They shall seize your sons and your daughters, and your survivors shall be devoured by fire. They shall also strip you of your clothes and take away your fine jewels. So I will put an end to your lewdness and your whoring brought from the land of Egypt; you shall not long for them, or remember Egypt any more. For thus says the Lord God: I will deliver you into the hands of those whom you hate, into the hands of those from whom you turned in disgust; and they shall deal with you in hatred, and take away all the fruit of your labor, and leave you naked and bare, and the nakedness of your whorings shall be exposed. (23:25–​29)

The cutting off of particular parts of the body is a form of torture with parallels to warfare, as shown, for example, in the Neo-​Assyrian palace reliefs.12 Both Ezekiel 16 and 23 foreground the female body, but in a highly sexualized way. The texts also normalize violence against the female body. The detailed descriptions of male possession and adornment of the female body early in the “marriage” narrative prepare the reader for Yahweh to “take back” what he has given. The stripping of the body, in turn, presages the violence to which it is subjected, which takes the form of penetration, cutting, disfigurement, or even death. In both marriage metaphor passages, the female body exists to be used, exposed, and violently acted upon.

1.5  Foreign Bodies While the focus of Ezekiel 16 and 23 is on the female bodies, the text also shows interest in the bodies of the foreign lovers. Both passages display a voyeuristic fascination with imagining Jerusalem/​Oholah/​Oholibah in the embrace of other men. This may reflect a desire for total masculine control over the female body, a cuckolding fantasy, or even a veiled sexual interest in the male lovers themselves—​a repressed or displaced homoeroticism, as Stuart Macwilliam has argued.13 In both texts, the bodies of the foreign lovers are represented as sexual and as powerful; c­ hapter 23 includes an extended visual description. Oholibah “lusted after the Assyrians, governors and commanders, warriors clothed in full armor, mounted horsemen, all of them handsome young men”

Embodiment in Ezekiel    425 (v. 12). This description mirrors the descriptions of the female body given in 16 and 23; the focus is on beauty and youth, as well as the clothing that adorns the body. Oholibah then turns her desire from the Assyrians to the Babylonians, who she encounters first through visual representation: “she saw male figures carved on the wall, images of the Chaldeans portrayed in vermilion, with belts around their waists, with flowing turbans on their heads, all of them looking like officers—​a picture of Babylonians whose native land was Chaldea” (23:14b–​15). As with Yahweh’s discovering the abandoned Israel in 16:6 and the women’s witnessing her punishment in 16:41, representation becomes thematic. That is, the body is constituted as an object of the gaze. Oholibah progresses from figural representations of the Babylonians to Babylonian—​and then Egyptian—​lovers in the flesh; the passage climaxes with a praise for Egyptian lovers’ genitals: “she played the whore in the land of Egypt and lusted after her paramours there, whose members were like those of donkeys, and whose emission was like that of stallions” (23:19–​20). This degree of explicitness is remarkable, especially given the Hebrew Bible’s general caginess around the penis.14 To be sure, there are multiple laws regulating seminal discharges (e.g., Leviticus 15), and circumcision is an essential religious practice, but the penis itself is usually referred to euphemistically or discretely avoided. The erect and ejaculating penis is an especially unexpected find in this text—​even as it occurs at multiple points. The narrative of the promiscuous sisters Oholah and Oholibah in ­chapter 23 makes explicit reference to the genitals of their lovers. As Stuart Macwilliam describes, “Ezek 23:20 reads as a depiction of penile size and ejaculatory profusion in terms of sexual allure.”15 Moreover, Roland Boer finds an allusion to penis and testicles in the phrase ‫ קֶ סֶ ת הַ ּס ֹפֵ ר ְּבמָ ְתנָיו‬qeseṯ hassōp̄ēr bəmāṯnāyw (9:2, 3, 11), which is used to describe the man clothed in linen (NRSV: “a writing case at his side”). Boer further argues that Ezekiel’s scroll-​swallowing in 2:10–​3:3 represents “prophetic auto-​fellatio,” part of the “masturbatory logic of scribal self-​production.”16 The bodies of other foreign men appear elsewhere in the book of Ezekiel, though without the heightened erotic charge that the marriage metaphor facilitates. The presence of a woman, even if said woman is both adulterous and strictly metaphorical, provides plausible deniability for what would otherwise seem a suspiciously homoerotic scene of one man sizing up other men’s impressive genitals. Often, the focus is less on the bodies than on their adornments, such as the description of the armies of Gog in c­ hapter 38, which includes descriptions of their armor, swords, horses, and helmets. A similar interest in the objects and gear adorning and surrounding bodies, especially foreign bodies, appears in the oracles against the nations, where the bodies of various foreign warriors and kings attract attention.17 While the aim is ostensibly a judgment of others and a celebration in their downfall, these passages are also tinged with admiration of and interest in the forms in which the foreign bodies are adorned and expressed. The interest in the prodigious genitals and impressive virility of the foreigners also demonstrates the use of hypersexualization and “perverse” sexuality to villainize the other—​familiar from biblical representations of Moab, Amon, and other neighboring peoples, as well as from more modern orientalist representations of the Canaanites.18 Sexualized or otherwise, depictions of foreign bodies speak truths not about themselves, but about the texts’ authors.

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1.6  Dry Bones In Ezekiel 37, the prophet has a vision of a valley filled with dry bones: [Yahweh] said to me: “Prophesy to these bones, and say to them: O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. Thus says the Lord God to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. I will lay sinews on you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall live; and you shall know that I am the Lord.” So I prophesied as I had been commanded; and as I prophesied, suddenly there was a noise, a rattling, and the bones came together, bone to its bone. I looked, and there were sinews on them, and flesh had come upon them, and skin had covered them; but there was no breath in them. Then he said to me, “Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, mortal, and say to the breath: Thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.” I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood on their feet, a vast multitude. (37:4–​10)

The transformation, from bones to bodies, is among the most famous in Ezekiel. It demonstrates Yahweh’s power over the human form—​a power that encompasses not only taking life (Ezekiel 9:1–​11; 24:15–​18) but also restoring it, even to already dried-​out bones (a detail that amplifies the miracle beyond, say, the revivification of a dead child by Elisha [2 Kgs 4:32–​35], or of a dead man by that prophet’s corpse [2 Kgs 13:20–​21]). As when Yahweh appears in ­chapter 1, the bodies’ return is first heralded in sound: “suddenly there was a noise, a rattling.” The process by which the bodies return to life—​ sinews, flesh, bone—​echoes other accounts of the creation of the human form, such as Job 10:11, “You clothed me with skin and flesh, and knit me together with bones and sinews.” The entry of breath into the bodies to reanimate them likewise evokes the creation of Adam from dirt and breath in Genesis 2. Of course, these bodies have a twist—​they are not so much creations as re-​ creations, or better, re-​animations. Though they are often read as resurrected bodies, they are equally legible as zombie bodies or creatures akin to Frankenstein’s monster, reassembled from parts, reanimated, and made to walk again across the earth.19 In this way, they resemble the other horror-​adjacent creatures in the book of Ezekiel: the hybrid cherubim (10:6-​17), the cannibals (34:1-​10),20 the divine executioners with their weapons and their linen-​clad leader (9:1-​11), even Yahweh himself. Viewed from this perspective, the bodies of Ezekiel take on a very different significance, one equally well viewed through a hermeneutic of horror.21 This effect is underscored through the violent imagery and associations that the text introduces. In 39:17–​20, Yahweh is associated with carrion birds, feasting on carcasses. The final impression is, as Corrine L. Carvalho writes, of “a God who feasts on the gore of sacrifice, like a vulture.”22 Whether figures of horror or simply horrifying, the bodies far exceed the ordinary.

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2.  Understanding Embodiment in Ezekiel This preceding survey, while brief, has demonstrated the diversity of bodies in Ezekiel. I will now shift from an account of the various bodies in the text to an analysis of the significance of embodiment.

2.1  The Body and Power In the book of Ezekiel, the body is frequently a sign of power. Nowhere is this clearer than in the initial theophany, where the magnificent body of Yahweh signifies his potency through its fiery substance, its fascinating loins, the terrifying sound of its voice, the chariot that conveys it—​as the composite effect. Ezekiel’s own bodily response to this appearance is to fall on his face, pointing to the effectiveness of the form of embodiment that Yahweh assumes in the theophany. The representation of the divine body in the theophany is linked to other bodily expressions of divine power, such as the theophany in Isaiah 6, but to a heightened degree—​pointing to the centrality of bodily representation in the book of Ezekiel. Yahweh’s body is also a source of power when he returns in the final vision. After a scene with the bronze man—​whose more-​than-​human appearance links him to Yahweh—​Ezekiel encounters Yahweh himself in ­chapter 43. Furthermore, when Yahweh appears, he explicitly describes the temple as providing a home for his body: “He said to me: Mortal, this is the place of my throne and the place for the soles of my feet, where I will reside among the people of Israel forever” (43:7). While “the place for the soles of my feet” is a conventional expression, the intense focus on the divine body in the opening chapters of the book imbues the reference with bodily urgency. At other points in the book, the power of the body is configured as the power of resistance. This is true of the body of Ezekiel, which is described by Yahweh as resistant to the threats, verbal and otherwise, posed by the people to whom he is sent to prophesy. Yahweh promises that his prophet will have a hard head in order to resist the people (3:8–​9), whom he previously describes in terms of briars and scorpions. The threat that the people represent is configured as a bodily threat; in response, Yahweh gives Ezekiel’s body the power to resist. Continuing in this vein, it is also possible to read the prophet’s sign acts—​which notably are not effective in persuading the people—​as a performative staging of resistance. The prophet does not communicate a message so much as he simply resists.23 In addition to action and resistance, a third constellation of embodiment and power is found in Ezekiel: the acted-​upon body as a sign of the power of others. Some bodies in the text exist to be acted upon by others. Ezekiel’s sign acts may be read in this way,

428   Rhiannon Graybill as, for example, Jan Tarlin has done—​suggesting that the prophet assumes a passive, even masochistic posture to be manipulated by Yahweh.24 More disturbingly, the female bodies in 16 and 23 are used as grounding upon which masculine power is acted out. The dire fate of the female body—​attacked, destroyed, made into sign—​marks the power of Yahweh, who commands this action. Other male bodies are also acted upon as signs of male power. In Ezekiel’s vision of the abominations in the Temple, the linen-​clad man physically marks all of the faithful with a sign on their foreheads (9:4). This marking is then used to identify those who will be spared. Even more vividly than in the accounts of Jerusalem, Oholah, and Oholibah, the acted-​upon body becomes sign—​and here, inscriptive surface. The written-​upon body in Ezekiel 9 has parallels elsewhere in the biblical corpus (e.g., Cain in Genesis 4); it is always a sign of the power of the writer.25

2.2  The Body as Perceptual Apparatus In addition to its relationship to power, the body in the book of Ezekiel also functions as perceptual apparatus. This is particularly true for Ezekiel himself. While the traditional role of the prophet is to serve as a medium of communication between Yahweh and the people (consider, for example, Moses and his endless negotiations between Yahweh and the complaining Israelites in Exodus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy), more frequently, Ezekiel’s role is to watch and listen. The dumbness that afflicts him at multiple points in the book is one clear sign that as much as the prophet is called to speak, so too is he summoned to communicate non-​verbally and even, at points, to fail to communicate at all. Perception, as much or more than communication, is at stake here. Ezekiel bears witness to Yahweh, his plans, and his power. The resurrection of the dry bones, a famous moment in the book and in Ezekiel’s prophecy, is enacted for the prophet’s eyes alone. Similarly, the otherworldly man who gives an extensive tour of the new temple and the new city does so for an audience of one: Ezekiel. The prophet’s role is to observe; his body becomes a perceptual apparatus. Often, the prophet’s response to what he observes is likewise bodily: Ezekiel is instructed to clap his hands and stomp his feet (6:11, 25:6). At other times, he is instructed to turn his body in a specific direction in order to prophesy. Here, the body as perceptual apparatus also becomes a transmitter: in perceiving, the body also sends a message. However, this message is not effectively received by its recipients: Ezekiel complains that the people believe he is only a singer of songs (33:32). They experience pleasure instead of the trepidation or even terror that would better fit his message of judgment. The prophet’s body thus perceives the message more effectively than it communicates it. Ezekiel is also commanded to write in ­chapters 24 and 43. In 43 in particular, the command is centered on transmitting the message. The body again functions as perceptual apparatus, here more successfully than in the earlier points. The use of the prophet’s body as a tool to observe Yahweh is also thematized through the text’s interest in this body’s interiority. Yahweh’s word appears to Ezekiel as a scroll;

Embodiment in Ezekiel    429 he eats it and finds that it tastes of honey, in spite of being written with words of “lamentation and weal and woe.” In this act, the interior of the prophet’s body is claimed by Yahweh, much as his outside has been as he falls before Yahweh and is struck dumb. Like a half-​broken transmitter, he can only receive signals, not transmit them.

2.3  Pain and Torture A significant and repeated theme in the book of Ezekiel is bodily pain, even torture. Indeed, pain is one thing that unites the otherwise separate, and often opposed, bodies of the prophet, of women, of foreigners, and of Judeans. Only Yahweh does not experience pain—​suggesting, perhaps, that to be human is to suffer. In the case of Ezekiel, pain becomes a feature of the prophetic body almost immediately, as the sign acts that Ezekiel performs in c­ hapters 4 and 5—​the first substantive acts of his prophecy—​are also a cause of substantial pain.26 The prophet lies on one side, is bound with cords that severely limit his movement, and eats a restricted diet of a small amount of water and bread baked over excrement (4:4–​15). To lie still and to eat little may seem like practices of stillness and restraint, but they are also forms of torture. And as with torture, the everyday objects that surround the body are turned against it, transforming the world into a world of pain.27 Thus Ezekiel’s body as prophetic body is constituted as an object of torture. The literary representation of suffering that the sign acts (Ezekiel 4–​5) present also holds striking parallels to the real-​life experience of torture, both contemporary and historical. Daniel Smith-​Christopher has explored in detail Ezekiel as refugee and traumatized subject. A significant part of this trauma is the experience of torture, which Smith-​Christopher argues is significant not just in contemporary contexts, but in the historical experience of exile as well.28 He has further suggested that reading the book of Ezekiel and other biblical texts through the experience of contemporary studies of forced migration opens a new way of understanding and experiencing the ancient world. To borrow categories from the philosopher Paul Ricœur, torture connects the world of the text (the book of Ezekiel), the world behind the text (the Babylonian Exile and other ancient instances of forced migration and conquest), and the world in front of the text (contemporary refugee crises). Furthermore, in each of these spheres, the body, and the tortured body in particular, is paramount.29 Ezekiel’s is not the only body exposed to pain. Pain is also a key feature in the representation of female bodies in the text, though this pain is, notably, not viewed with empathy and it is eroticized. In Ezekiel 16, Jerusalem is stripped (v. 39), stoned (v. 40), and cut into pieces (ibid.). In ­chapter 23, Oholah is killed with the sword (v. 10). Oholibah’s punishment is more graphic, as her nose and ears are cut off (v. 25), her children are burned (ibid.), she is stripped (ibid.), and she tears off her own breasts (v. 34). Both sisters are further stoned, cut up, and their children killed (v. 47). This repetition seems to double the punishments that precede it; it is as if the text cannot satisfy itself of torturing the female body. While Ezekiel’s sufferings are largely understated but sympathetically rendered in the text—​the prophet, after all, is the reader’s primary point

430   Rhiannon Graybill of identification—​the suffering of female bodies is cause for voyeuristic enjoyment and pleasure.30 The spectacle is a cause of pleasure; this pleasure depends, to a large degree, on imagining the suffering of the body. Essentially, there is a gender difference between the bodies that engender even passive sympathy (Ezekiel’s) and those that promote pleasure in suffering (Jerusalem, Oholah, Oholibah). This gender difference is stronger than the ethnic and religious sameness that unites the bodies across gender lines. There are, however, male bodies in the book of Ezekiel whose suffering also produces textual celebration. Centrally, these are found in the oracles against the nations, found in ­chapters 25–​32. Those oracles describe, in extended and repeated detail, the suffering of enemy nations. Frequently, this suffering includes violence against the body. Thus, Tyre will be stripped, besieged, and trampled by enemies; sailors and sea merchants will respond with bodily practices of mourning: “They throw dust on their heads and wallow in ashes; they make themselves bald for you, and put on sackcloth, and they weep over you in bitterness of soul, with bitter mourning. In their wailing they raise a lamentation for you, and lament over you” (27:30–​32). In the oracle against Egypt, the bodies of the Egyptians, chief among them Pharaoh, are doubly imagined as embodying sea monsters (vv. 4–​7). Elsewhere, bodies are subjected to a standard range of ancient Near Eastern punishments: death by the sword, displacement, exile, grief, a fate that serves as a warning to all others. The fates of the rival nations in the oracles are paralleled, as well, by the most gruesome depths of punishment that Ezekiel prophesies against his own people, the Judeans. They too will experience exile, displacement, and pain. Perhaps most appallingly, Yahweh will instantiate a cannibal scene, in which parents eat their children and children eat their parents (5:10). What these passages lack in elaborate detail—​no single body is subjected to a punishment as elaborate as Oholibah or Jerusalem, and no single embodied subject remains the object of textual attention as long as Ezekiel himself—​ they make up for in general excess. To a large degree, bodies exist in Ezekiel in order to be tortured or to experience pain.

2.4  Nakedness and Dress The significance of the body in Ezekiel is also expressed, at least in part, through the body’s state of adornment. This plays out in a number of ways: religiously significant garments, mourning practices, military dress, and nakedness. Ezekiel is identified in the opening of the book as a priest. This has significance for his dress, as priests on duty are instructed to wear a particular set of garments and to maintain the body in specific ways. In his sign acts, his hair and clothing enter into the practice of prophecy, as Ezekiel shaves his hair and beard with a sword or knife (5:1). Then, One third of the hair you shall burn in the fire inside the city, when the days of the siege are completed; one third you shall take and strike with the sword all around the city; and one third you shall scatter to the wind, and I will unsheathe the sword after

Embodiment in Ezekiel    431 them. Then you shall take from these a small number, and bind them in the skirts of your robe. From these, again, you shall take some, throw them into the fire and burn them up; from there a fire will come out against all the house of Israel. (5:2–​4)

Hair shavings, the abject margins of the body, assume a central role in this prophecy; the garment, too, is important. Clothing often functions as an extension of the body (hence the significance of David’s cutting the edge of Saul’s robe, 1 Sam 24:4–​6); here, the use of Ezekiel’s priestly garment to first shelter, then expose the hair-​as-​sign offers another form of bodily prophecy. Clothing as an extension of, and synecdoche for, the body also appears in the representation of foreign military powers. In Ezek 28:11–​19, for example, the text describes in detail the jeweled and magnificent Prince of Tyre, whom the prophet is commanded to lament. The intense interest in the clothing, armor, weapons, and other military accoutrements of foreign soldiers suggests, as well, a fascination with the bodies beneath the clothing. Interest in dress is a common way of expressing-​while-​denying interest in the male body (consider David in and out of Saul’s armor [1 Sam 17:38–​39], Jonathan stripping before David [1 Sam 18:1–​4], the almost obsessive interest in the giant Goliath’s giant armor [1 Sam 17:4–​7], and so forth). Dress also signifies status; thus, the man with the writing case whom Ezekiel encounters is identified by his linen dress (9:2–​3). Finally, the text’s interest in the ways that bodies are clothed is also matched by a fascination with nudity and the stripping of bodies. Mourning practices involve the removal of ordinary forms of clothing; when Yahweh strikes down Ezekiel’s wife, he instructs the prophet “Sigh, but not aloud; make no mourning for the dead. Bind on your turban, and put your sandals on your feet; do not cover your upper lip or eat the bread of mourners” (24:17). The refusal of mourning, including the refusal to remove ordinary forms of clothing, is enacted on the body. More disturbing, and more violent, is the forced stripping of the adulterous female bodies in Ezekiel 16 and 23. The exposure of the woman’s body before her lovers (16:37) is a show of power; it is also an act of violence. The naked female body is vulnerable and violated. This female vulnerability, in turn, connects back to the vulnerability of the naked infant at the beginning of the chapter.

2.5  Masculinity and Queerness Enacted on the Body The body also plays an important role in the textual negotiation of gender and sexuality, particularly with respect to masculinity. The female bodies in the book of Ezekiel are either caricatures or fantasies; they exist to give form to larger masculine ideas about power, religious or marital fidelity, or identity. Jerusalem in Ezekiel 16, though a woman, embodies the collective body of Judean men. When non-​metaphorical women appear, they are either treated as disposable signs (Ezekiel’s wife struck dead) or used to represent the general misunderstanding and malfeasance of the Judeans (the women weeping

432   Rhiannon Graybill for Tammuz). Ezekiel even complains about women who are false prophets (13:17–​23), though in the context of a larger castigation of all prophets, male and female. When it comes to masculinity, however, the text offers a more complex representation. Yahweh’s masculine body, and in particular his male loins, are an object of substantial interest in the text. (This interest is carried over to subsequent readers, as in the fascination with the divine phallus/​penis that Howard Eilberg-​Schwartz explores in detail.31) As a masculine figure, Yahweh is powerful, virile, and perhaps over-​ compensating. In spite of the norms of hegemonic masculinity that Yahweh is taken to enact, multiple scholars have traced an instability in the representation of Yahweh’s masculinity. For example, S. Tamar Kamionkowski argues that the central logic of the text is gender reversal and cosmic chaos; Yahweh is not above contamination from this destabilization of gender norms.32 Stuart Macwilliam directs attention to the “supposedly male narrator who if not exactly taking on a female persona—​the classic gay male camp stance—​at least comes oddly close to doing so,” further noting that the narrator “is revealed to be none other than God himself.”33 Under Macwilliam’s analysis, Yahweh verges into a camp deity equipped with “an ancient Israelite version of Gaydar.”34 Frequently, these critiques of Yahweh’s masculinity are centered on the divine body and its dance of presence and absence in the text. The body of the prophet Ezekiel is also implicated in a struggle over masculinity. In multiple ways, Ezekiel fails to achieve the norms of masculine embodiment. He is shamed by his failure to mourn for his wife, even as this action is commanded by Yahweh.35 His body is not strong, fertile, and powerful, but rather passive and violated. His oral penetration by Yahweh’s divine scroll dramatizes his status as passive, open, and unmanned body.36 As I argue at length elsewhere, the body of Ezekiel heralds an alternate model of masculinity, one centered on the experience of “unmanning.” The body of Ezekiel, moreover, functions as queer prophetic body.37 This queerness plays out in bodily performance, as well as in the basic ways in which Ezekiel inhabits his body.38

3.  Conclusion: No Saying Goodbye to the Body In Ezekiel, the body is central to the generation of meaning, even as a close attention to the body and its actions in the text destabilizes many of our preconceptions about the book as a whole. Dry bones walk again, new meanings emerge, and embodiment remains fundamental to the book of Ezekiel. It is a fantasy of idealism to move beyond the body, to a realm of pure thought, unburdened by pesky materialisms. While we may debate over the philosophical validity or promise of such an idea in general, in the case of Ezekiel, there is no question: the text is inarguably bound up with the body.

Embodiment in Ezekiel    433

Notes 1. All renderings in this chapter are taken from the NRSV translation. 2. Benjamin D. Sommer, The Bodies of God and the World of Ancient Israel (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 88. 3. Howard Eilberg-​Schwartz, God’s Phallus: And Other Problems for Men and Monotheism (Boston: Beacon, 1995), 179. 4. Shawn Zelig Aster, “Ezekiel’s Adaptation of Mesopotamian Melammu.” Die Welt des Orients 45, (2015): 10–​21, here 15. 5. Sommer, Bodies of God, 69. 6. Esther J. Hamori, “When Gods Were Men”: The Embodied God in Biblical and Near Eastern Literature (BZAW 384; Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2008), 34. 7. Sarah J. Melcher, “Blemish and Perfection of the Body in the Priestly Literature and Deuteronomy,” Journal of Religion, Disability & Health 16, no. 1 (2012): 1–​15. 8. On these scenes in relation to the body, see further Rhiannon Graybill, Are We Not Men?: Unstable Masculinity in the Hebrew Prophets (New York: Oxford University Press, 2016), 97–​120. 9. E.g.; Gale A. Yee, Poor Banished Children of Eve: Woman as Evil in the Hebrew Bible (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress Publishers, 2003), 100; Susan E. Haddox, “Masculinity Studies of the Hebrew Bible: The First Two Decades,” Currents in Biblical Research 14, no. 2 (2016): 176–​206, 195-​96. 10. For an extensive analysis centered on this figure, see Johanna Stiebert, The Exile and the Prophet’s Wife: Historic Events and Marginal Perspectives (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2005). 11. E.g., Athalya Brenner, “Pornoprophetics Revisited: Some Additional Reflections,” JSOT 21, no. 70 (1996): 63. For a good survey of feminist (and other) approaches, see Sharon Moughtin-​Mumby, Sexual and Marital Metaphors in Hosea, Jeremiah, Isaiah, and Ezekiel (Oxford Theological Monographs; London: Oxford University Press, 2008), 162–​165. 12. Zainab Bahrani, Rituals of War: The Body and Violence in Mesopotamia (New York: Zone Books, 2008), 154–​156. 13. Stuart Macwilliam, Queer Theory and the Prophetic Marriage Metaphor in the Hebrew Bible (Bible World; Sheffield: Equinox, 2011), 198–​200. 14. Athalya Brenner, The Intercourse of Knowledge: On Gendering Desire and Sexuality in the Hebrew Bible (BibInt 26; Leiden: Brill, 1997), 79–​80. 15. Macwilliam, Queer Theory, 189. Macwilliam specifies that he reads from a “gay male” perspective here, pointing to the larger workings of same-​sex desire in, and toward, the text. 16. Roland Boer, “Spermatic Spluttering Pens: Concerning the Construction and Breakdown of Prophetic Masculinity,” in Prophets Male and Female: Gender and Prophecy in the Hebrew Bible, the Eastern Mediterranean, and the Ancient Near East, ed. Jonathan Stökl and Corrine L. Carvalho (Ancient Israel and its Literature 15; Atlanta: SBL, 2013), 215–​236, here 219–​221; 232. 17. On these bodies, see Madhavi Nevader, “Yhwh and the Kings of Middle Earth: Royal Polemic in Ezekiel’s Oracles against the Nations,” in Concerning the Nations: Essays on the Oracles against the Nations in Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel, ed. Andrew Mein, Else K. Holt, and Hyun Chul Paul Kim (Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 612; New York: Bloomsbury, 2015), 161–​178; John T. Strong, “In Defense of the Great King: Ezekiel’s Oracles against Tyre,” in Mein, Holt, and Kim, Concerning the Nations, 179–​194.

434   Rhiannon Graybill 18. See Ken Stone, “Homosexuality and the Bible or Queer Reading? A Response to Martti Nissinen,” Theology & Sexuality 7, no. 14 (January 1, 2001): 107–​118. 19. Jeffery L. Welch, “Ezekiel 37:1–​14,” Interpretation 70 (January 1, 2016): 79. 20. Nathanael Warren, “A Cannibal Feast in Ezekiel,” Journal for the Study of the Old Testatament 38 (2014): 501–​512. 21. George Aichele and Tina Pippin, The Monstrous and the Unspeakable: The Bible as Fantastic Literature (Playing the Texts 1; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1997); Graybill, Are We Not Men?, 57–​62. 22. Corrine L. Carvalho, “The God that Gog Creates: ‘Drop the Stories and Feed the Feelings,’ ” in The God Ezekiel Creates, ed. Paul M. Joyce and Dalit Rom-​Shiloni (Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 607; New York: T & T Clark, 2015), 107–​131, here 127. 23. On Ezekiel, the body, and performance art, see Yvonne Sherwood, “Prophetic Performance Art,” The Bible and Critical Theory 2, no. 1 (2006): 1.1–​1.4; Theresa Hornsby, “Ezekiel Off-​Broadway,” The Bible and Critical Theory 2, no. 1 (2006): 2.1–​2.8. 24. Jan William Tarlin, “Utopia and Pornography in Ezekiel,” in Reading Bibles, Writing Bodies: Identity and the Book, ed. Timothy K. Beal and D. M. Gunn (Biblical Limits; London: Routledge, 1997), 180. 25. Boer describes this power as phallic in “Spermatic Spluttering Pens.” 26. On pain’s shattering effect on language, which may explain Ezekiel’s failure to speak about his pain, see Elaine Scarry, The Body in Pain: The Making and Unmaking of the World, 1st ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1987), 4, 51–​54. See also Daniel L. Smith-Christopher, A Biblical Theology of Exile (Overtures to Biblical Theology; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2002), 76–​77; 88. 27. Graybill, Are We Not Men?, 108. 28. Smith-​Christopher, A Biblical Theology of Exile, 76. 29. Daniel L. Smith-​Christopher, “Ezekiel in Abu Ghraib: Rereading Ezekiel 16:37–​39 in the Context of Imperial Conquest,” in Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World: Wrestling with a Tiered Reality, ed. Stephen L. Cook and Corrine Patton (SBL Symposium Series 31; Atlanta: SBL, 2004), 141, 150–​153. 30. Erin Runions, “Violence and the Economy of Desire in Ezekiel 16.1–​45,” in A Feminist Companion to Prophets and Daniel, ed. Athalya Brenner (Feminist Companion to the Bible 2nd series, 8; London: Sheffield Academic, 2001), 156–​170. 31. Eilberg-​Schwartz, God’s Phallus, 1. 32. Kamionkowski, Gender Reversal and Cosmic Chaos, 7. 33. Macwilliam, Queer Theory, 198, 200. 34. Macwilliam, Queer Theory, 200. 35. Corrine L. Carvalho, “Sex and the Single Prophet: Marital Status and Gender in Jeremiah and Ezekiel” in Stökl and Corrine L. Carvalho, Prophets Male and Female, 237–​267, here 246–​247. 36. Graybill, Are We Not Men?, 103–​104. 37. Graybill, Are We Not Men?, 121–​123. 38. Hornsby, “Ezekiel Off-​Broadway,” 7.

Bibliography Aichele, George, and Tina Pippin. The Monstrous and the Unspeakable: The Bible as Fantastic Literature. Playing the Texts 1. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1997.

Embodiment in Ezekiel    435 Aster, Shawn Zelig. “Ezekiel’s Adaptation of Mesopotamian Melammu.” Die Welt des Orients 45, no. 1 (2015): 10–​21. Bahrani, Zainab. Rituals of War: The Body and Violence in Mesopotamia. New York: Zone Books, 2008. Beal, Timothy K., and David M. Gunn, eds. Reading Bibles, Writing Bodies: Identity and the Book. Biblical Limits. London: Routledge, 1997. Boer, Roland. “Spermatic Spluttering Pens: Concerning the Construction and Breakdown of Prophetic Masculinity.” In Stökl and Carvalho, Prophets Male and Female, 215–​236. Brenner, Athalya. The Intercourse of Knowledge: On Gendering Desire and Sexuality in the Hebrew Bible. BibInt 26. Leiden: Brill, 1997. Brenner, Athalya. “Pornoprophetics Revisited: Some Additional Reflections.” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 21, no. 70 (1996): 63–​86. Brintnall, Kent, ed. Religion: Embodied Religion, Macmillan Interdisciplinary Handbooks. Farmington Hills, MI: Macmillan Reference USA, 2016. Corrine L. Carvalho, “The God that Gog Creates: ‘Drop the Stories and Feel the Feelings.’ ” In The God Ezekiel Creates, edited by Paul M. Joyce and Dalit Rom-​Shiloni, 107–​131. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 607. New York: T&T Clark, 2015. Carvalho, Corrine L. “Sex and the Single Prophet: Marital Status and Gender in Jeremiah and Ezekiel.” In Stökl and Carvalho, Prophets Male and Female, 237–​267. Coakley, Sarah, ed. Religion and the Body. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997. Eilberg-​Schwartz, Howard. God’s Phallus: And Other Problems for Men and Monotheism. Boston: Beacon, 1995. Graybill, Rhiannon. Are We Not Men?: Unstable Masculinity in the Hebrew Prophets. New York: Oxford University Press, 2016. Haddox, Susan E. “Masculinity Studies of the Hebrew Bible: The First Two Decades.” Currents in Biblical Research 14, no. 2 (2016): 176–​206. Hamori, Esther J. “When Gods Were Men”: The Embodied God in Biblical and Near Eastern Literature. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 384. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2008. Hornsby, Theresa. “Ezekiel Off-​Broadway.” The Bible and Critical Theory 2, no. 1 (2006): 2.1–​2.8. Kamionkowski, S. Tamar. Gender Reversal and Cosmic Chaos: A Study in the Book of Ezekiel. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement 368. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 2003. Macwilliam, Stuart. Queer Theory and the Prophetic Marriage Metaphor in the Hebrew Bible. BibleWorld. Sheffield: Equinox, 2011. Mein, Andrew, Else K. Holt, and Hyun Chul Paul Kim, eds. Concerning the Nations: Essays on the Oracles against the Nations in Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 612. New York: Bloomsbury, 2015. Melcher, Sarah J. “Blemish and Perfection of the Body in the Priestly Literature and Deuteronomy.” Journal of Religion, Disability & Health 16, no. 1 (2012): 1–​15. Moughtin-​Mumby, Sharon. Sexual and Marital Metaphors in Hosea, Jeremiah, Isaiah, and Ezekiel. Oxford Theological Monographs. New York: Oxford University Press, 2008. Nevader, Madhavi. “Yhwh and the Kings of Middle Earth: Royal Polemic in Ezekiel’s Oracles against the Nations.” In Mein, Holt, and Kim, Concerning the Nations, 161–​178. Runions, Erin. “Violence and the Economy of Desire in Ezekiel 16.1–​45.” In A Feminist Companion to Prophets and Daniel, edited by Athalya Brenner, 156–​ 170. Feminist Companion to the Bible 2nd series, 8. London: Sheffield Academic, 2001.

436   Rhiannon Graybill Scarry, Elaine. The Body in Pain: The Making and Unmaking of the World. New York: Oxford University Press, 1987. Sherwood, Yvonne. “Prophetic Performance Art.” The Bible and Critical Theory 2, no. 1 (2006): 1.1–​1.4. Smith-​Christopher, Daniel L. A Biblical Theology of Exile. Overtures to Biblical Theology. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2002. Smith-​Christopher, Daniel L. “Ezekiel in Abu Ghraib: Rereading Ezekiel 16:37–​39 in the Context of Imperial Conquest.” In Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World: Wrestling with a Tiered Reality, edited by Stephen L. Cook and Corrine Patton, 141–​157. Society of Biblical Literature Symposium Series, 31. Atlanta: SBL, 2004. Sommer, Benjamin D. The Bodies of God and the World of Ancient Israel. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009. Stiebert, Johanna. The Exile and the Prophet’s Wife: Historic Events and Marginal Perspectives. Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2005. Stökl, Jonathan, and Corrine L. Carvalho, eds. Prophets Male and Female: Gender and Prophecy in the Hebrew Bible, the Eastern Mediterranean, and the Ancient Near East. Ancient Israel and its Literature 15. Atlanta: SBL, 2013. Stone, Ken. “Homosexuality and the Bible or Queer Reading? A Response to Martti Nissinen.” Theology & Sexuality 7, no. 14 (January 1, 2001): 107–​118. Strong, John T. “In Defense of the Great King: Ezekiel’s Oracles against Tyre.” In Mein, Holt, and Kim, Concerning the Nations, 179–​194. Tarlin, Jan William. “Utopia and Pornography in Ezekiel.” In Reading Bibles, Writing Bodies: Identity and the Book, edited by Timothy K Beal and David M. Gunn, 175–​183. Biblical Limits. London: Routledge, 1997. Warren, Nathanael. “A Cannibal Feast in Ezekiel.” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 38 (June 2014): 501–​512. Welch, Jeffery L. “Ezekiel 37:1–​14.” Interpretation 70, no. 1 (2016): 78–​80. Yee, Gale A. Poor Banished Children of Eve: Woman as Evil in the Hebrew Bible. Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress Publishers, 2003.

Chapter 23

Ezekiel as T rauma Literatu re Ruth Poser

Recently, the prophetic writings of the Hebrew Bible have been described as a “meditation on the horror of war.”1 The multiplicity of voices that these writings enfold is, as Louis Stulman puts it, “not only set against the background of war, but re-​enacts the ravages of war in poetry and artistic prose.”2 In his studies, Stulman focuses on the book of Jeremiah and connects it to descriptions of trauma researcher Judith Herman. Quoting from her work, he writes: These texts represent on multiple levels “an affiliation of the powerless.” They are texts beset with events that “overwhelm the ordinary human adaptions of life,” events that involve “threats to life or bodily integrity, or a close personal [or communal] encounter with violence and death,” events that “confront human beings with the extremities of helplessness and terror, and evoke the responses of catastrophe.”3

This assessment holds true likewise for the book of Ezekiel, which I myself have investigated in detail and designated as “trauma literature,” including different concepts of individual, collective, and literary (psycho)trauma(tology).4 I hold that the book of Ezekiel is a theological involvement with the besiegement, conquest, and destruction of Jerusalem at the beginning of the sixth century bce, and with the related mass deportations in 597 and 587 bce.5

1.  Ezekiel in a Context of Trauma Textual, visual, and archaeological sources document the deep trauma associated with crucial historical events that, according to the book of Ezekiel itself, took place not long before its composition: the siege, fall, and destruction of Jerusalem between 589 and 587

438   Ruth Poser bce; and the deportation of prisoners of war to a life in forced exile, already from 597 bce on. Those affected by the siege experienced “famine, pestilence, and the sword” (see Ezek 5:12; 7:15), atrocities, torture, forms of sexual or sexualized violence, pillaging, and arson.6 Deportees had to endure a grueling forced march over hundreds of miles. They witnessed the weakening and death of fellow captives. Families were torn apart, and most exiles had no hope of ever returning home. If we take this background as factual and visualize it as a concrete reality, it becomes possible to read the book of Ezekiel in a new light: as a literary confrontation with the violence of war that people of all genders and of all ages actually experienced, and as a theological example of trauma literature. In order to discuss Ezekiel as trauma literature, the following definition of (individual) trauma provides a starting point: [It is the] experience of a fundamental discrepancy between a threatening situation and an individual’s possibilities for overcoming it. This experience is accompanied by feelings of helplessness, defenselessness, and abandonment and can permanently disrupt the person’s understanding of the self and the world.7

Hence trauma is not an inherent element of an event or experience as such; not everyone exposed to a potentially traumatizing event develops traumatic symptoms or syndromes. Nevertheless, survivors of war, torture, and sexual violence are affected with particular frequency, as are those who had to flee or were expelled from their homelands. Events that do turn out to be traumatic for someone trigger a great variety of responses. Many of them can be connected with two fundamental yet contrary impulses: on the one hand, the violence that victims have suffered preoccupies them and constantly intrudes on their thoughts; on the other hand, victims try as hard as they can to ward off feelings of anxiety, pain, and helplessness, and to protect themselves from everything connected with the trauma. The term intrusion symptoms is used to describe states in which victims relive the traumatic situation; they include intrusive thoughts, nightmares, and flashbacks. Contrasting constriction symptoms may appear as psychological numbing, rigidity, and social withdrawal. In order to characterize the total breakdown of meaning that happens in traumatization, some scholars use the word desymbolization, a term describing a “defensive mental state in which ‘psychic space can be said to be frozen,’ experience cannot be accessed, and mental connections are destroyed, so that people lack meaning and a sense of control.”8 Healing processes, then, can be understood as processes of (re)symbolization (see §2.2, below). One might even say that it is exactly this idea of desymbolization (and the necessity of [re]symbolization) which keeps together differing concepts of individual and collective traumatization, and trauma in literature—​as the following considerations on communal trauma and trauma in literature illustrate. Even if there might be similarities concerning an individual’s or a community’s “symptoms,”9 individual and collective trauma nevertheless differ considerably from each other. While individual trauma is mainly explored in medical sciences and psychologies, collective trauma is (rather) analyzed in cultural studies. Else K.

Ezekiel as Trauma Literature    439 Holt refers to Jeffrey C. Alexander’s concept of “Cultural Trauma”10 and points out: “Collective trauma is a societal process, mediated through collective agents or carrier groups, ‘who broadcast symbolic representations—​characterizations—​of ongoing social events, past, present, and future.’ They present a ‘claim to some fundamental injury, an exclamation of some sacred value, a narrative about a horribly destructive social process, and a demand for emotional, institutional, and symbolic reparation and reconstruction.’ ”11 Desymbolization, or the described dialectic between intrusion and constriction symptoms, is closely linked to victims’ inability to express what happened to them in symbolic language. They want to tell their stories—​indeed they must, in order to grasp the traumatic events as part of their life histories—​but they are often unable to do so, because they lack words for their experiences. We have no language with which to express senseless violence, and perhaps no such language should exist.12 But, if this is so—​does telling the story of a traumatic catastrophe inevitably reduce it to a rational and banal event? Are some cultural scholars right when they say that the existence of such a text necessarily represents “the end of the trauma”? Can trauma literature exist at all, or is the term an oxymoron? Marisa Siguan Boehmer, who has analyzed texts by Jean Améry, Jorge Semprún, and Herta Müller, observes that the answers to these questions take the form of a paradox; the writings of these authors have muteness at their core.13 It is the impossibility of communicating that makes it so imperative to tell the story. Anyone who attempts to turn individual or collective trauma into literature unavoidably enters the realm of paradox. On the one hand, massive eruptions of brutality resist expression; there are no words to represent them. On the other hand, it is absolutely necessary to bear witness, to respond so that horror and violence do not have the last word. In my opinion, Ezekiel’s mutism—​a phenomenon that continues to puzzle researchers—​can be plausibly interpreted as generated by trauma, representing exactly that very paradox (for details, see §2.2.2, below).

2.  (Traumatic) Discourses/​Structures in the Book of Ezekiel 2.1  (Traumatic) Guilt Psycho-​traumatology reveals that many victims of trauma (and even communities in the aftermath of catastrophe) struggle with guilt and shame; often this adds to the difficulty of talking about what they suffered. If family members and friends have been murdered, some even feel guilty for having survived. Although there is no objective reason for them to blame themselves, occasionally survivors will accuse themselves instead of the perpetrator. Such an assumption of guilt after trauma can be related to the powerlessness that overwhelms a victim in a traumatizing situation. In this sense, it constitutes an attempt

440   Ruth Poser to regain control over this situation, due to the fact “that it can be easier to maintain one’s mental balance if one was guilty rather than completely helpless.”14 In my opinion, discourses of guilt in the prophetic writings should (also) be analyzed against this background. In the book of Ezekiel, the interpretation of the collective disaster as (deserved) divine punishment for the people’s sins is quite prominent, too, the following two aspects being most crucial: (1) The catastrophe occurs—​as the texts put it—​because there is no other way to expunge Israel’s guilt, and (2) Yhwh is the perpetrator. It is Yhwh alone who is responsible for the people’s exile, not the Babylonians—​ who but act(ed) as Yhwh’s tool. Ezekiel 5:5–​9 is quite illustrative of that stance: (5) Thus says the Lord God: This is Jerusalem; I have set her in the center of the nations, with countries all around her. (6)But she has rebelled against my ordinances and my statutes, becoming more wicked than the nations and the countries all around her, rejecting my ordinances and not following my statutes. (7)Therefore thus says the Lord God: Because you are more turbulent than the nations that are all around you, and have not followed my statutes or kept my ordinances, but have acted according to the ordinances of the nations that are all around you; (8)therefore thus says the Lord God: I, I myself, am coming against you; I will execute judgments among you in the sight of the nations. (9)And because of all your abominations, I will do to you what I have never yet done, and the like of which I will never do again.15

It seems important to me not to read those phrases as statements concerning God’s “nature” or “character” but to understand them as “efforts of survival” in the realm of literature. On the one hand, those phrases take seriously that, in individual as well as in collective trauma, God is experienced as gloomy, unfriendly, merciless, violent, and punishing.16 On the other hand, the assumption of guilt enables a powerless Israel to take the initiative and act effectively. If Israel follows God’s commandments in the future, this will help ensure that no similar catastrophe ever occurs again. Assigning the role of perpetrator to God removes the terrible events from the sphere of human volition and earthly contingency—​and it preserves the idea of Yhwh as a deity of immense power. Or, as David M. Carr puts it in his book Holy Resilience: Such self-​blame offered Israel a way to see itself as empowered in an otherwise helpless situation.... For many who suffer deeply, the only thing that frightens them more than the idea that God is punishing them is the idea that God is not in charge at all’. For some, such self-​blame can be corrosive, undermining their faith. But for others the idea of a powerful God, even a judging God, can be reassuring. At least there is a chance to change one’s behavior and be saved. Things can look quite different if the world is totally devoid of God. Then one is truly subject to its most powerful forces, even if they are brutally tyrannical.17

Ultimately, the burden of guilt ascribed to Israel not only establishes the basis to overcome the people’s traumatic powerlessness, but also makes it possible for God to survive

Ezekiel as Trauma Literature    441 as their deity even after the catastrophe of exile. But these recourses are bought dearly: on the one hand, by an image of God that seems violent or even sadistic, and, on the other hand, by a massive act of blaming the victim. Unsurprisingly, the biblical writings themselves do not take this easy route. The book of Job, for instance, can be taken as explicitly entering a protest against all ideas of harm or disaster as Yhwh’s punishment, intention, or educational measure. Moreover, recent studies show that even those biblical books which are superficially dominated by a pattern of guilt-​punishment include subtle counter-​discourses, so that the dominating statements are yet again interrupted.18 In this sense, the book of Ezekiel repeatedly outlines the image of a highly emotional deity being in need of her people’s attention. A deity deeply vulnerable and nearly fractured inasmuch as this attention is holding off—​as, for instance, is illustrated in 6:9: “Those of you who escape shall remember me among the nations where they are carried captive, how I was crushed (‫ִש ַּב ְר ִּתי‬ ְ ׁ ‫שר נ‬ ֶ ׁ ֲ‫ א‬ˀăšer nišbartî) by their wanton heart that turned away from me, and their wanton eyes that turned after their idols.”19 Thereby, the disaster of 587 bce no longer appears as “fitting” sentence for the misdeeds of the people but re-​emerges as a rampant outburst of a traumatized deity who cannot help herself and strikes out wildly, as 5:13 might show: “My anger shall spend itself, and I will vent my fury on them and satisfy myself; and they shall know that I, the lord, have spoken in my jealousy, when I spend my fury on them.” In my opinion, this illustrates impressively what many sufferers or trauma victims experience in respect to faith: There is, especially in great distress, no such thing as a consistent image of God. God (and our images of God) gets caught up in contradictions. Thus in the book of Ezekiel, even God (and the images of God) is affected—​as the hardest effects are not foreign to God.

2.2  Desymbolization and (Re)Symbolization Literary specialist Ronald Granofsky argues for the existence of a new subgenre, the modern trauma novel, whose defining quality is a concern with individual or collective trauma and catastrophe, either experienced or anxiously anticipated. Its key technique, in his view, involves symbolization,20 complying with the momentousness of desymbolization as traumatic symptom. So, Granofskyʼs study reflects two fundamental insights of psycho-​traumatology: that the effect of traumatic situations is to destroy the capacity to symbolize them and grasp their meaning, and that trauma can be assimilated only by placing it in a symbolic sequence. Granofsky observes further that the process of symbolization permits a confrontation with traumatic material with some degree of protection,21 so that the danger of re-​traumatization while being involved with the text is somewhat reduced. Since the process may or may not involve a deliberate reworking of prior symbolic representation, I will label it ambiguously, as (re)symbolization.

442   Ruth Poser

2.2.1  First Example: ַ‫ רוּח‬Rûaḥ In the book of Ezekiel, we find a wide range of motifs that can be analyzed with regard to the process of (re)symbolization. This process is particularly evident through the use of the motif expressed by the noun ַ‫ רוּח‬rûaḥ. In the book of Ezekiel, this term—​whose primary meaning possibly is “air in motion,” denoting “wind,” “breath,” “spirit,” and “inspiration”—​occurs fifty-​two times.22 From the start, ַ‫ רוּח‬appears as a powerful force, activating participants in the narrative and setting changes in motion. Up to Ezekiel 20, its nature is ambiguous: it moves the wheels of the throne (1:12, 20; 10:17), but it can also be a windstorm that can bring down walls, signifying God’s wrath (13:11, 13). At various points it serves as a metaphor for deportation and captivity (5:10, 12; 12:14; 17:21). Furthermore, it may refer to an individual’s spirit that can suffer harm or go astray (11:5; 13:3) but also be renewed (11:19; 18:31). After God proclaims that the news of the coming catastrophe will cause every spirit to grow faint (21:7, which is v. 12 per the Hebrew text’s numbering), the term ַ‫ רוּח‬does not occur again until Ezek 36—​with one exception. This exception, however, represents the peak of its destructive force (27:26). When ַ‫רוּח‬, after a while, is used again in and after 36:26, it functions as an unambiguously constructive source of energy that underlies and renews life, as shown by 37:1–​10, the vision of the valley of dry bones (or the erstwhile battlefield). It becomes a symbol for the life of Israel in the face of God and in the Torah (37:14; 39:29; 42:20). The images of restoration recall the ambiguous occurrences of ַ‫רוּח‬ in the first part of the book, but, as it seems, its destructiveness is subdued by its creative power when (God’s) ַ‫ רוּח‬is matched up simultaneously from the four wind directions (‫ רוּחו ֹת‬rûḥôt; cf. 37:9), summoned by the prophet (and war victim) Ezekiel. Against this background, ַ‫ רוּח‬appears especially suitable as a means of expressing the “secret of surviving” the catastrophe of exile, in language close to the victims’ experience.23

2.2.2  Second Example: Eating (and Drinking) In the context of this literary (re)symbolization process, most of the motifs involve, either directly or indirectly, biological functions (and so does ַ‫ רוּח‬in the sense of “breath”) or basic stages of one’s life, such as birth, growth, sexuality, and death. That seems to be immediately applicable to the metaphorical biographies of the “city-​wife” in Ezekiel 16 and 23. Concerning the motif of eating in literary treatments of trauma, Granofsky writes: The “perversion” of normal eating patterns, for example, in cannibalism, will often be a symbol for the dislocation effects of trauma both on an individual and a collective scale. In the trauma novel, certain kinds of eating may be symbolic of the necessity to assimilate raw experience, so to speak.24

Eventually, eating (and sometimes drinking) can become so important in the context of trauma-​literature because—​as in breathing and speaking—​the mouth and the throat are involved. In Hebrew, the parallel term is ‫נֶפֶ ׁש‬, often translated as “soul,” that actually

Ezekiel as Trauma Literature    443 designates the throat as the central organ for breathing, eating, drinking, and speaking. In this sense, ‫ נֶפֶ ׁש‬circumscribes liveliness, vitality, and “life” as such. The aspects of eating within trauma literature seem to hold true also for the book of Ezekiel, which contains many scenes of “aberrant” eating: the prophet swallowing a scroll (2:8b–​3:3) or eating disgusting food (4:9–​13); “cannibalism” (5:10); “consuming” fires (e.g., 15:4); “devouring” famine (e.g., 7:15); and the particularly gruesome image of the totally burned cooking pot (24:3–​13). Not until Ezekiel 34 do eating and drinking gradually reacquire their role as sustenance for individuals and the community. The process of (re)symbolization through images of eating and drinking will become even clearer when, as follows, some of the images are analyzed in detail.

2.2.2.1  The Swallowed Scroll (Ezek 2:8b–​3:3) The book of Ezekiel begins with a description of Ezekiel’s call, the story primarily determined by the motif of the prophet being overwhelmed by God (1:1–​3:15). God not only appoints Ezekiel as a mouthpiece, as in other call narrations, but also makes his body a sign of the messages to come. In the center of the narration (2:8b–​3:3), Yhwh induces Ezekiel to swallow a scroll that is covered, all over and on both sides (‫ִקנִים וָהֶ גֶה‬ ‫ ו ִָהי‬qinîm wāheḡeh wāhî)25 with expressions of lament and screams of horror: (2:8b) Open your mouth and eat what I give you. (2:9) I looked, and a hand was stretched out to me, and a written scroll was in it. (2:10) He spread it before me; it had writing on the front and on the back and written on it were words of lamentation and mourning and woe. (3:1) He said to me, O mortal, eat what is offered to you; eat this scroll, and go, speak to the house of Israel. (3:2) So I opened my mouth, and he gave me the scroll to eat. (3:3) He said to me, Mortal, eat this scroll that I give you and fill your stomach with it. Then I ate it; and in my mouth it was as sweet as honey.26

If one imagines that scene “bodily,” its violence comes to the fore. Not until God has commanded the action three times does the prophet-​to-​be manage to ingest the giant, stiff, and indigestible piece that is probably manufactured from papyrus. The statement “and in my mouth it was as sweet as honey” (‫ ו ְַּת ִהי ְּבפִ י ִּכ ְדבַ ׁש לְמָ תו ֹק‬wattəhî bəp̄î kiḏəḇaš ləmāṯôq) eventually does not describe more than the fact that Ezekiel is able to swallow it at all. The medieval scholar Rabbi David Kimḥi explains the sentence as follows: “Thus I fed my belly, for I did not vomit it.”27 Based on the consonants of the Hebrew, the translation “it [the scroll] could be sucked with my mouth like fruit syrup”28 is also possible. At any rate, the physical (and even mental) consequences of the violent meal become apparent sometime later: The prophet’s speech is taken away! Since God simultaneously urges Ezekiel several times to go to his fellow exiles and talk to them, this seems more than a paradox. Ezekiel 3:1 reads in part as follows: “go (‫ הלך‬h-​l-​k), speak to the house of Israel”; likewise 3:4: “go (‫ בּ ֹא‬bōˀ) to the house of Israel and speak”; and also 3:11: “then

444   Ruth Poser go (‫ הלך‬h-​l-​k and ‫ בוא‬b-​w-​’) to the exiles, to your people, and speak.” Yet in 3:14–​15, the first-​person narrator Ezekiel states: The spirit ( ַ‫ )רוּח‬lifted me up and bore me away; I went (‫ הלך‬h-​l-​k) in bitterness in the heat of my spirit ( ַ‫[ )רוּח‬or: bitter, my breath poisoned], the hand of the Lord being strong upon me. I came (‫ בוא‬b-​w-​’) to the exiles at Tel-​abib, who lived by the river Chebar. And I sat there among them, stunned, for seven days.

While Ezekiel meets God’s orders in his “going” and “coming,” the concomitant commandment to “speak” lacks any observance. The position of “speaking” is taken by “sitting (‫ ישב‬y-​š-​b), deeply disturbed/​frozen/​stunned (‫ מַ ׁ ְש ִמים‬mašmîm).”29 The scroll not only “poisons” the new prophet’s “breath” ( ַ‫ )רוּח‬but also his speech.30 Shortly thereafter, Yhwh announces that he will make the prophet’s tongue cling to the roof of his mouth and render him mute (3:25–​26; cf. 24:25–​27). Ezekiel cannot speak unless Yhwh “speaks with him” (3:27).31 The prophet regains the power of speech only when news of the destruction of Jerusalem reaches him as a very fact (33:21–​22): In the twelfth year of our exile, in the tenth month, on the fifth day of the month, someone who had escaped from Jerusalem came to me and said, ‘The city has fallen.’ Now the hand of the Lord had been upon me the evening before the fugitive came; but he had opened my mouth by the time the fugitive came to me in the morning; so my mouth was opened, and I was no longer unable to speak.

The narrative of Ezekiel presents its protagonist as a traumatized victim of violence, who in this respect bears a strong resemblance to David’s daughter Tamar32 and Job33 (Job 2:12–​13). As such, he becomes a prophet and embodiment of trauma for the house of Israel and readers of the text. Ezekiel’s trauma also comprises the traumatic loss of speech; he is torn between being silent and “speaking out”—​as are many survivors of extreme violence, as noted above.

2.2.2.2  Performances of Eating (and Drinking) After Ezekielʼs commissioning, Yhwh requires him to act out different symbolic actions (4:1–​5:4), thereby bodily representing the siege, the conquest of Jerusalem and its destruction, and the fate endured by the city’s residents (cf. 5:5–​17). In doing so, Ezekiel besieges and is besieged at the same time. Tied up with cords, he must lie down on his left side for three hundred and ninety days and on his right side for forty days; and, while lying on the ground, he has to prophesy against Jerusalem (4:4–​8). God orders him—​ once again, eating and drinking come into play—​to subsist on rationed servings of food and water (4:9–​11). The portions that he is allowed are so small that he would be unable to survive, doomed to wasting away cruelly. Then Yhwh demands that he eat a barley cake that is baked “with (preposition ‫ )ב‬pellets of human excrement.” When Ezekiel protests, God gives him the permission to prepare the cake “on (preposition ‫ )על‬cow chips” (4:12–​15).34 Finally, Ezekiel is ordered to shave his head and his beard—​the hair

Ezekiel as Trauma Literature    445 being an important symbol of power and vitality35—​with “a sharp sword” used “like a barber’s razor.” With his hair, the prophet is to play out further acts of war (5:1–​4). Nancy R. Bowen, who also interprets the book of Ezekiel in terms of trauma, discusses ­chapters 4 and 5 as follows: Ezekielʼs reenactments of the trauma of the fall of Jerusalem...resemble the acts of victims who continue to live the trauma through various forms of deliberate self-​ harm. The acts of starvation and eating repulsive food bear a striking resemblance to various eating disorders. . . The act of shaving with a sharp sword is indicative of a high-​risk behavior. Lying on the sides also reflects harmful behavior toward one’s body. Such self-​destructive behaviors can be understood as symbolic or literal reenactments of the initial abuse.36

The fact that many of the demanded symbolic actions involve eating and drinking—​ in particular, the breaking of eating taboos—​primarily points to the scarcity of food in a city besieged for a longer time and the cruel consequences for the city’s population. As 2 Kgs 25:3 and Jer 52:6 suggest, famine fatally undermines the inhabitants’ power to defend their city;37 this might also apply to the besiegement of Jerusalem by the Babylonian army, which lasted one-​and-​a-​half years. God’s dire announcement in 5:9–​10 (famine in Jerusalem is going to get so heavy that parents will eat their children, and children will eat their parents) also seems to fit in this context: As she says herself—​Israel’s deity has never done (and will never do again) something worse to her people.38

2.2.2.3  The Cup of Horror (Ezek 23:31–​34) On the level of Ezekiel’s narrative, the besiegement of Jerusalem begins in 24:1–​2. Shortly before, God announces that his “city wife” Jerusalem will have to drink the “cup of wrath,” i.e., the “deep and wide” (23:32) “cup of devastation and horror” (23:33). The cup’s content (nothing but the war’s violence) will fill up the “city wife”—​fill her up with “drunkenness and woe” (v. 33). Already here the images of Jerusalem as drunk and as war victim mix together, and this is even more the case in v. 34, where the images become totally blurred. The imagery seems like a “hyper-​realization” (on this term, see further below): When the “city wife” has emptied the cup to its dregs, when she has totally swallowed her fate to be, she also will crush the cup and tear her breasts with the broken pieces. In my opinion, this reaction also can be interpreted as self-​harm in view of unbearable violence. In the Hebrew Bible, cutting and scratching oneself is mentioned several times as a ritual of grief or debasement mainly in the context of catastrophes of war (cf., e.g., Jer 16:6).39

2.2.2.4  Discharging, or: Obliterating from the Earth In accordance with the book’s turning point, which is induced by the destruction of Jerusalem (cf. 33:21–​22), changes occur also in the (divine) menu that Ezekiel is expected to serve up to the “house of Israel.” For example, Yhwh promises to blot out the man-​eating wild animals (metaphorical or actual in nature?) from the land of Israel

446   Ruth Poser (34:25, 28) and also to expel famine, with the result that the surrounding nations no longer have any reason to scorn Israel and Israel’s deity (34:29; 36:29–​30). The chaos of eating is replaced by a sufficient supply of foodstuff. Yhwh commits to bestow blessings, and even more: to act herself as a farmer or gardener on the people’s behalf. In the very same context, fruits (from fruit trees) are mentioned three times (34:27; 36:8, 30, see also below on 47:1–​12). Before such an abundance is implemented in Ezekiel’s narrative, the readers are presented with a blood-​curdling meal for one last time: in 39:17–​20, Yhwh instructs the prophet to invite raptors and other wild animals for a divine banquet. During this meal, the animals are allowed to refresh themselves until they are sated with the flesh and the blood of Israel’s last adversary, Gog from Magog and his forces—​who have been vanquished by God. Recently, Julie Galambush has once again outlined the “case of Gog” and has persuasively shown that this “future attacker” of Israel is most likely to be identified with Nebuchadrezzar. In Ezekiel 38–​39, the attackers are described in ways similar to the Babylonian ruler and his violent troops elsewhere in the books of Ezekiel and Jeremiah.40 By means of a topsy-​turvy sacrificial feast—​the deity slaughters human beings for the good of wild animals—​Yhwh lets the animals devour Babylon, acting as the divine “punishing tool.” In a sense, God turns the battleground into a festive table. Against this background, 39:17–​20 and its context appear to be a grand revenge fantasy; the catastrophe being (literally) acted out with different conclusions and consequences.41 The wild animals devouring the enemy’s flesh and blood ensure that those held responsible for the exile’s trauma are, once and for all, thrown out of the “civilized world.”

2.2.2.5  Everyday Fare and “Overflowing Abundance” Only then does it become possible to narrate that eating and drinking (re)normalize. In Ezekiel 40–​48, which constitute the visionary (re)framing of Yhwh’s sanctuary and Israel’s country, this shift happens more or less casually, with one exception which is to be analyzed below (47:1–​12). The chapters depict various measures to supply the priesthood with food; they present commissions aiming at the re-​establishment of sacrificial offerings for regular and festive days. For Israel’s supreme leader—​who no longer is called a king but a ‫ ָנ ִׂשיא‬nāśîˀ “prince” (going hand in hand with a specific deprivation of power)—​a particular task of eating is envisioned: the prince shall sit in the gate of the sanctuary that faces east (the gate by which Yhwh has entered it) and shall eat bread in front of Israel’s deity (44:1–​3). However, in 47:1–​12, readers encounter a scene of overflowing abundance that fulfills Yhwh’s promises from ­chapters 34 and 36 on the narrative level. As with the messages of doom, Ezekiel not only is informed verbally, but also experiences the “overflow” with his own body: Guided by a divine messenger who accompanies the prophet on his march through the utopian sanctuary and city, Ezekiel traverses the water issuing from underneath the temple threshold and its farther course. Flowing southeastward, the trickling waters rapidly swell to a huge stream, so that Ezekiel can cross them only by swimming. On his way back to the sanctuary, he catches sight of a vast number of trees on both sides

Ezekiel as Trauma Literature    447 of the river. As the divine messenger explains afterward, the wondrous watercourse runs to the Dead Sea, “healing” its salty waters42 so that life might spread (anew). Fishery resources will increase until they achieve the level of the Mediterranean Sea—​which means that the basis for human livelihood, as well as sound nutrition, is ensured prospectively. Some swamps and marshes are not “healed” but are reserved as sources of salt, the latter playing an important role in health (cf. 16:3) as well as ritual (cf. 43:24). And the living/​livening waters not only serve the healing of the (fish) fauna, amidst a scanty wasteland, but also they produce a special flora: the trees that Ezekiel already has seen. As recorded in verse 12, their leaves never wither and serve as a natural remedy—​ while their fine fresh fruit, produced every month, provide a never-​ending source of food. Famine has vanished into thin air.

2.2.2.6  (Further) Interpretation(s) As it might be true for the swallowing of the scroll in Ezekiel 2–​3, the drinking of the cup of wrath in Ezekiel 23, the totally burned cooking pot in Ezekiel 24, or the bizarre divine banquet meal in Ezekiel 39, many scenes of eating and drinking in the book of Ezekiel seem “hyper-​real.” I use this term in order to characterize a certain literary “technique”: something that starts out as a metaphor is stretched in a way that an extreme, an “even-​ more-​than-​real” reality is captured. The strangeness of the book of Ezekiel becomes even clearer when compared to the book of Jeremiah. While the images of eating the words of God or of the cup of wrath that makes the nations tumble are also to be found in the latter (cf., e.g., Jer 15:16; 25:15–​29), only in the former are these images transformed into odd, narrated scenes. In my opinion, this literary technique functions to depict the concrete bodily dimensions of the divine judgment, respectively, the horrors of war. By images of “perverted” eating (and drinking)—​such as gorging swords, devouring beasts, and wasting fires—​these horrors can be brought to the fore in an affecting or touching way. The horrors of war also include famine and thirst, both looming large in Ezekiel’s description of the siege of Jerusalem (cf., esp., Ezek 4–​5). Just as the prophet’s poisoning as a result of swallowing the scroll is illustrative of the fate of those facing the divine judgment, Ezekiel’s eating performances depict the horrible wasting away in a besieged city due to food and water shortage. It seems that the besiegement of Jerusalem was embedded in cultural memory or heritage primarily as a catastrophe of famine. In 2 Kings 25, the famine of the inhabitants is the only reason given for the final breakdown of the Judean capital in 587 bce. In addition to all that realism, eating and drinking in Ezekiel also hold a large symbolic meaning: in this sense, perturbed, inverted, or absent eating and drinking are reflective of the disturbed covenant relationship between Israel’s deity and the people; meanwhile, conversely, “proper” and “opulent” eating and drinking point to a healing and succeeding partnership between Yhwh and Israel, as well as the blessings pouring out of this re-​established community.43 The development of eating and drinking throughout the book of Ezekiel can be seen as a process of (re)symbolization: While both, in the beginning and for long stretches of the narrative, are quite chaotic and have

448   Ruth Poser forfeited their life-​sustaining and collective qualities, they (re)gain them progressively from c­ hapter 34 onward. In the narrative that Ezekiel narrates, he actually eats only once—​when swallowing the scroll—​even though he is required to eat on several occasions. According to the book’s story/​fiction, he even writes the book that he himself is going to be—​and now is. In this sense, Ezekiel’s devouring of the scroll can be seen as a meta-​textual link, or meta-​communication. Scholars like Jürgen Ebach construe this aspect as an indication that Ezekiel’s narrative started off in writing at the outset, and that Ezekiel as the narrator and protagonist of his eponymous book is to be seen—​or read—​as a paradigm: the exemplary survivor of war.44 However that may be, in Ezekiel 47 the prophet “gets in touch” with something edible one further time, looking at the awesome trees whose leaves are curative and whose fruits are not to be used up. In the narrative, this, simultaneously, is the last time he delineates an experience of his own and makes use of the first person singular. The readers, as it were, take leave of him gazing at the trees—​a gaze that even for the readers might highlight a lasting impression. What Ezekiel finally sees can function as an antidote to all the images of horror that he, and readers with him, had to “absorb.” Somehow, it is, in my opinion, a bit frustrating that Ezekiel does not try the fruits and/​or leaves—​or is not allowed to do so. Maybe he (still) suffers indigestion after all those indigestible experiences? Or maybe (I hope so) he is indulged (and replete) with this vision of delight. At any rate, in Ezekiel’s eyes (and words), “lamentation and mourning and woe” (2:10) ultimately seem to have become sweet like fruit syrup, after all.

Notes 1. Louis Stulman and Hyun Chul Paul Kim, You are my People: An Introduction to Prophetic Literature (Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 2010), 6. 2. Louis Stulman, “Reflections on the Prose Sermons in the Book of Jeremiah: Duhm’s and Mowinckel’s Contributions to Contemporary Trauma Readings,” in Bible through the Lens of Trauma, ed. Elizabeth Boase and Christopher G. Frechette (SemeiaSt 86; Atlanta: SBL Press, 2016), 125–​139, here 126. 3. Stulman, “Reflections,” 126; see further Judith Herman, Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence—​from Domestic Abuse to Political Terror, rev. ed. (New York: Basic Books, 1997). On the book of Jeremiah as trauma literature, see also Kathleen M. O’Connor, Jeremiah: Pain and Promise (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2011). 4. See Ruth Poser, Das Ezechielbuch als Trauma-​Literatur (Vetus Testamentum Supplementum 154; Leiden: Brill, 2012); see also Daniel L. Smith-​Christopher, A Biblical Theology of Exile (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2002); David G. Garber, “Traumatizing Ezekiel, the Exilic Prophet,” in Psychology and the Bible: A New Way to Read the Scriptures Volume II: From Genesis to Apocalyptic Vision, ed. J. Harold Ellens and Wayne G. Rollins (Westport, CT: Praeger, 2004), 215–​235; Brad E. Kelle, “Dealing with the Trauma of Defeat: The Rhetoric of the Devastation and Rejuvenation of Nature in Ezekiel,” Journal of Biblical Literature 128, no. 3 (2009): 469–​490; Nancy R. Bowen, Ezekiel (Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 2010).

Ezekiel as Trauma Literature    449 5. On the (social) history of this period, see Rainer Albertz, Die Exilszeit: 6. Jahrhundert v. Chr. (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2001), 46–​116; Poser, Ezechielbuch, 121–​248. 6. On the effects of (ancient) siege warfare, see also Paul Bentley Kern, Ancient Siege Warfare (Bloomington, IN: Souvenir, 2004); Israel Eph‘al, The City Besieged: Siege and Its Manifestations in the Ancient Near East (Leiden: Brill, 2009). 7. Gottfried Fischer/​Peter Riedesser, Lehrbuch der Psychotraumatologie, 3rd ed. (Munich: Reinhardt, 2003), 82. Passage translated by Deborah L. Schneider. 8. Kathleen M. O’Connor, “How Trauma Studies Can Contribute to Old Testament Studies,” in Trauma and Traumatization in Individual and Collective Dimensions: Insights from Biblical Studies and Beyond (ed. Eve-​Marie Becker et al.; Göttingen et al.: Vandenhoeck, 2014), 210–​222; 213 (with reference to psycho-​analytic researcher and clinician Norbert Freedman). 9. See, e.g., Angela Kühner, Kollektive Traumata—​ Annahmen, Argumente, Konzepte: Eine Bestandsaufnahme nach dem 11. September (Berlin: Berghof Forschungszentrum, 2002), 58–​63. 10. See Jeffrey C. Alexander, “Toward a Theory of Cultural Trauma,” in Cultural Trauma and Collective Identity (ed. Jeffrey C. Alexander; Berkley: University of California Press, 2004), 1–​30; 11. 11. Else K. Holt, “Daughter Zion: Trauma, Cultural Memory and Gender in OT Poetics,” in Trauma and Traumatization in Individual and Collective Dimensions: Insights from Biblical Studies and Beyond, ed. Eve-​Marie Becker, Jan Dochhorn, and Else K. Holt (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck, 2014), 162–​176; 168. In general—​as well as on the phenomenon of intergenerational traumatization—​see also Poser, Ezechielbuch, 78–​105; and Irmtraud Fischer, “Der imperiale Traumatisierungsverursacher: Eine Facette der Darstellung von Assur und Ninive in der Bibel,” in Zwischen Karawane und Orientexpress: Streifzüge durch Jahrtausende orientalischer Geschichte, Festschrift für Hannes Galter, ed. Johannes Gießauf (AOAT 434; Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag, 2017), 99–​109. 12. See Martina Kopf, Trauma und Literatur: Das Nicht-​Erzählbare erzählen—​Assia Djebar und Yvonne Vera (Frankfurt a.M.: Brandes & Apsel, 2005), 9–​67. 13. See Marisa Siguan Boehmer, “Erinnerungsbilder im narrativen Erinnerungsdiskurs bei Jean Améry und Jorge Semprún,” in Narrative Bewältigung von Trauma und Verlust, ed. Carl Eduard Scheidt et al.; (Stuttgart: Schattauer, 2015), 212–​222, here 213, 215. 14. Kühner, Kollektive Traumata, 32. Passage translated by Deborah L. Schneider. 15. Unless otherwise noted, renderings from the Bible are taken from the NRSV translation. 16. Compare Christoph Morgenthaler, Seelsorge: Lehrbuch Praktische Theologie Band 3 (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2009), 202–​209. 17. David M. Carr, Holy Resilience: The Bible’s Traumatic Origins (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2014), 32–​33. See also O’Connor, “Trauma Studies,” 215–​217. 18. See, e.g., OʼConnor, Jeremiah; David Janzen, The Violent Gift: Traumaʼs Subversion of the Deuteronomistic Historyʼs Narrative (Library of Hebrew Bible /​Old Testament Studies 561; New York: T&T Clark, 2012). 19. Translation: NRSV (emphasis added). 20. See Ronald Granofsky, The Trauma Novel: Contemporary Symbolic Depictions of Collective Disaster (New York: Lang, 1995), 7. 21. See Granofsky, Trauma Novel, 6–​7. 22. For a more general discussion of ַ‫רוּח‬, compare Rainer Albertz and Claus Westermann, “‫רוח‬,” in Theologisches Handwörterbuch zum Alten Testament (THAT), ed. Ernst Jenni

450   Ruth Poser and Claus Westermann, 3rd ed. (Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 1984), 2:726–​753; Sven Tengström, “‫רוח‬,” in Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Alten Testament, ed. G. Johannes Botterweck and Helmer Ringgren (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1993), 7:385–​418. 23. On the symbol ַ‫ רוּח‬in Ezekiel, see Poser, Ezechielbuch, 543–​566; Ruth Huppert, Israel steht auf: Eine Studie zu Bedeutung und Funktion von Ez 37,1–​14 im Buch Ezechiel (Berlin: Lit Verlag, 2016). On the role of ַ‫ רוּח‬in exile, see also Richard J. Sklba, “ ‘Until the Spirit from on High Is Poured out on Us’ (Isa 32:15): Reflections on the Role of the Spirit in the Exile,” Catholuc Biblical Quarterly 46, no. 1 (1984): 1–​17. On the phrase “secret of surviving” (“Geheimnis des Überlebens” in German), see Dori Laub, “Zeugnis ablegen oder die Schwierigkeiten des Zuhörens,” in Niemand zeugt für den Zeugen: Erinnerungskultur nach der Shoah, ed. Ulrich Baer (Frankfurt a.M.: Suhrkamp, 2000), 68–​83. 24. Granofsky, Trauma Novel, 14. 25. To fix these words’ meaning is quite difficult. The plural noun ‫ ִקנִים‬qinîm derives from the feminine noun ‫ ִקינָה‬qînāh, “dirge, lament,” but featuring a unique masculine form—​ probably designating an intensification of the word sense; Walther Zimmerli, Ezechiel (Bbiblischer Kommentar Altes Testament 13; Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1969), 10. The noun ‫ הֶ גֶה‬heḡeh (compare just Ps 90:9; Job 37:2) denotes “mächtige und/​ oder intensive, jedenfalls nicht artikulierte Laute”; Hans Strauß, Hiob, 2. Teilband: 19,1–​ 42,17 (Bbiblischer Kommentar Altes Testament 16/​2; Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2000), 318—​with reference to Job 37:2. The hapax ‫ ִהי‬hî might be comprehended as an “onomatopoeic expression, echoing a cry of pain”; Daniel I. Block, The Book of Ezekiel Volume 1, Chapters 1–​24 (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997), 125. What can be concluded from the phrase in question is that Ezekiel must swallow “wordless utterances” of pain, horror, and paralyzing terror. 26. Translation: NRSV, adapted. My delineation shows the threefold sequence of word/​order (2:8b; 3:1, 3a; orders in italics) and act/​achievement (2:9; 3:2, 3b) that dominates the structure of this passage. See also Franz Sedlmeier, Das Buch Ezechiel: Kapitel 1–​24 (Neuer Stuttgarter Kommentar Altes Testament 21/​1; Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 2002), 94.101. 27. Cited from Moshe Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (Anchor Bible 22; New York: Doubleday, 1983), 68. 28. In place of ləmāṯôq, an actually “impossible” combination of the preposition ‫ ל‬and the adjective ‫“ מָ תו ֹק‬sweet,” it is possible to revocalize as limtôq, which is an infinitive construct of ‫ מתק‬m-​t-​q in the qal stem; Arnold B. Ehrlich, Randglossen zur Hebräischen Bibel, Textkritisches, Sprachliches und Sachliches, Fünfter Band: Ezechiel und die kleinen Propheten (1912; reprint, Hildesheim: Olms, 1968), 11. In its (rarely occurring) transitive sense, this verb can mean “to suckle” (comp. Job 24:20). 29. On the root ‫ שמם‬sh-​m-​m as denoting traumatizing experiences, see Poser, Ezechielbuch, 311–​339. 30. The passages of the Hebrew Bible that have the closest relations to Ezek 3:14 corroborate the impression that the phrase ‫ מַ ר ַּבחֲ מַ ת רו ִּחי‬mar baḥămaṯ rûḥî characterizes an intoxication: in Deut 32:32–​33, ‫ חֵ מָ ה‬ḥēmāh, “poison,” the root ‫ מרר‬m-​r-​r, and other toxic substances are mentioned in the same context; Job 6:4 refers to the “arrows of the Almighty” whose poison Jobʼs spirit drinks (‫ חֲ מָ תָ ם ׁש ֹתָ ה רו ִּחי‬ḥămāṯām šōṯāh rûḥî), the phrase being in parallel with “the terrors of God are arrayed against me [Job].” Concerning Job 6:4, Jürgen Ebach writes: “Hiob erlebt Gott als Feind, der ihn geradezu mit militärischen Mitteln bekämpft, ihn mit Giftpfeilen beschießt, Schrecken gegen ihn anrücken läßt.... Hiob erfährt Gott wie einen Pest-​ und Todesgott der Mythologie..., der mit seinen Krankheit

Ezekiel as Trauma Literature    451 und Verderben bringenden Pfeilen die Menschen vernichtet.... Das Gift hat seinen Atem, d.h. auch seine Sprache, ‘vergiftet’.” Jürgen Ebach, Streiten mit Gott. Hiob, Teil 1: Hiob 1–​20 (Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1995), 71. We might assume that the same holds true for Ezekiel, as well. Compare also Gregory Y. Glazov, The Bridling of the Tongue and the Opening of the Mouth in Biblical Prophecy (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement 311; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001), 222: “It [the scroll] tastes sweet but embitters and inflames, or rather poisons, Ezekiel’s spirit, throwing him into a seven-​ day-​long state of silent astonishment or stupefaction.” 31. For this formulation, see Edgar Conrad, Reading the Latter Prophets: Toward a New Canonical Criticism (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement 376; New York: T&T Clark, 2003), 173. 32. In 2 Sam 13:20, Tamar’s situation after the trauma of rape is described in similar terms: “So Tamar remained (‫ ישב‬y-​sh-​b), a desolate woman (‫ ׁש ֹמֵ מָ ה‬šômēmāh), in her brother Absalom’s house.” See also Poser, Ezechielbuch, 313–​318. 33. Compare especially Job 2:13: “They (Job’s friends) sat (‫ ישב‬y-​š-​b) with him (Job) on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great.” 34. The prepositions might indicate that, primordially, Yhwh assigns Ezekiel to eat (crispbread with) human excrement (v. 12). God’s concession to bake the crispbread on cow chips (v. 15) “turns the tables” and can be read as a hint at the lack of fuel in a besieged city. In the text itself, the sign act is seen as foreshadowing the eating of impure food in exile (v. 13). Compare Karin Schöpflin, Theologie als Biographie im Ezechielbuch: Ein Beitrag zur Konzeption alttestamentlicher Prophetie (Forschungen zum Alten Testament 32; Tübingen: Mohr, 2002), 207–​208. 35. See Silvia Schroer and Thomas Staubli, Die Körpersymbolik der Bibel (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1998), 107–​114. 36. Bowen, Ezekiel, 28. 37. Compare Kern, Siege Warfare, 54–​56. 38. In the Hebrew Bible, “cannibalism” is mentioned only in contexts of siege warfare (see Lev 26:29; Deut 28:52–​57; 2 Kgs 6:27–​29; Isa 9:19; Jer 19:9; Zech 11:9; Lam 2:20; 4:40)—​a hint at the fact that famine could become very grave in besieged cities. Compare Andreas Michel, Gott und Gewalt gegen Kinder im Alten Testament (Forschungen zum Alten Testament 37; Tübingen: Mohr, 2003), 200–​245. 39. Compare Ulrike Bail, “Hautritzen als Körperinszenierung der Trauer und des Verlustes im Alten Testament,” in ʻDies ist mein Leibʼ—​Leibliches, Leibeigenes und Leibhaftes bei Gott und den Menschen, ed. Jürgen Ebach et al. (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2006), 54–​80. See also Poser, Ezechielbuch, 457–​467. 40. Compare Julie Galambush, “Necessary Enemies: Nebuchadnezzar, YHWH, and Gog in Ezekiel 38–​39,” in Israelʼs Prophets and Israelʼs Past: Essays on the Relationship of Prophetic Texts and Israelite History in Honor of John H. Hayes, ed. Brad E. Kelle and Megan Bishop Moore (Library of Hebrew Bible /​Old Testament Studies 446; New York: T&T Clark, 2006), 254–​267. See also Poser, Ezechielbuch, 599–​613. 41. Compare Bernhard Lang, Ezechiel: Der Prophet und das Buch (Erträge der Forschung 153; Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1981), 112. On vengeance in the context of trauma and the book of Ezekiel, compare Poser, Ezechielbuch, 473–​490. 42. While the salinity of sea water is about 5 per cent, that of the Dead Sea is about 25 per cent—​fish are not normally able to live in water that salty.

452   Ruth Poser 43. See also Lev 26:3–​46 and Deut 28:1–​69, where the consequences of blessing and curse—​ i.e., the “succeeding” or “failing” of the covenant relationship—​likewise is combined with “right” and “wrong” eating. 44. See Jürgen Ebach, “Ezechiel isst ein Buch—​Ezechiel ist ein Buch,” in “Iss dieses Buch!” (Theologische Reden 8; Knesebeck: Erev-​Rav, 2008), 11–​24; 21–​23.

Bibliography Albertz, Rainer. Die Exilszeit: 6. Jahrhundert v. Chr. Biblische Enzyklopädie 7. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2001. Albertz, Rainer, and Claus Westermann. “‫רוח‬.” In Theologisches Handwörterbuch zum Alten Testament (THAT), edited by Ernst Jenni and Claus Westermann, 3rd ed., 2:726–​753. Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 1984. Alexander, Jeffrey C. “Toward a Theory of Cultural Trauma.” In Cultural Trauma and Collective Identity, edited by Jeffrey C. Alexander, 1–​30. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004. Bail, Ulrike. “Hautritzen als Körperinszenierung der Trauer und des Verlustes im Alten Testament.” In “Dies ist mein Leib”—​ Leibliches, Leibeigenes und Leibhaftes bei Gott und den Menschen, edited by Jürgen Ebach, 54–​80. Jabooq 6. Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2006. Becker, Eve-​Marie, Jan Dochhorn, and Else K. Holt, eds. Trauma and Traumatization in Individual and Collective Dimensions: Insights from Biblical Studies and Beyond. Studia Aarhusiana Neotestamentica 2. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2014. Block, Daniel I. The Book of Ezekiel 1, Chapters 1–​24. The New International Commentary in the Old Testament. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997. Boehmer, Marisa Siguan. “Erinnerungsbilder im narrativen Erinnerungsdiskurs bei Jean Améry und Jorge Semprún.” In Narrative Bewältigung von Trauma und Verlust, edited by Carl Eduard Scheidt, et al., 212–​222. Stuttgart: Schattauer, 2015. Bowen, Nancy R. Ezekiel. Abingdon Old Testament Commentaries. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 2010. Carr, David M. Holy Resilience: The Bible’s Traumatic Origins. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2014. Conrad, Edgar. Reading the Latter Prophets: Toward a New Canonical Criticism. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement 376. New York: T&T Clark, 2003. Ebach, Jürgen. Streiten mit Gott. Hiob, Teil 1: Hiob 1–​20. Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1995. Ebach, Jürgen.“Iss dieses Buch!” Theologische Reden 8. Knesebeck: Erev-​Rav, 2008. Ehrlich, Arnold B. Randglossen zur Hebräischen Bibel, Textkritisches, Sprachliches und Sachliches, Fünfter Band: Ezechiel und die kleinen Propheten. 1912. Reprint, Hildesheim: Olms, 1968. Eph‘al, Israel. The City Besieged: Siege and Its Manifestations in the Ancient Near East. Culture and History of the Ancient NearnEast 36. Leiden: Brill, 2009. Fischer, Gottfried and Peter Riedesser. Lehrbuch der Psychotraumatologie. 3rd ed. Munich: Reinhardt, 2003. Fischer, Irmtraud. “Der imperiale Traumatisierungsverursacher: Eine Facette der Darstellung von Assur und Ninive in der Bibel.” In Zwischen Karawane und Orientexpress: Streifzüge durch Jahrtausende orientalischer Geschichte, Festschrift für Hannes Galter, edited by

Ezekiel as Trauma Literature    453 Johannes Gießauf, 99–​ 109. Alter Orient und Altes Testament 434; Münster: Ugarit-​ Verlag, 2017. Galambush, Julie. “Necessary Enemies: Nebuchadnezzar, YHWH, and Gog in Ezekiel 38–​39.” In Israelʼs Prophets and Israelʼs Past: Essays on the Relationship of Prophetic Texts and Israelite History in Honor of John H. Hayes, edited by Brad E. Kelle and Megan Bishop Moore, 254–​ 267. Library of Hebrew Bible /​Old Testament Studies 446. New York: T&T Clark, 2006. Garber, David G. “Traumatizing Ezekiel, the Exilic Prophet.” In Psychology and the Bible: A New Way to Read the Scriptures. Volume II: From Genesis to Apocalyptic Vision, edited by J. Harold Ellens and Wayne G. Rollins, 215–​235. Westport, CT: Praeger, 2004. Glazov, Gregory Y. The Bridling of the Tongue and the Opening of the Mouth in Biblical Prophecy. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement 311. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 2001. Granofsky, Ronald. The Trauma Novel: Contemporary Symbolic Depictions of Collective Disaster. New York: Lang, 1995. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 1–​20: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. Anchor Bible 22. New York: Doubleday, 1983. Herman, Judith. Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence—​from Domestic Abuse to Political Terror. Rev. ed. New York: Basic Books, 1997. Holt, Else K. “Daughter Zion: Trauma, Cultural Memory and Gender in OT Poetics.” In Becker, Dochhorn, and Holt, Trauma and Traumatization, 162–​176. Huppert, Ruth. Israel steht auf: Eine Studie zu Bedeutung und Funktion von Ez 37,1–​14 im Buch Ezechiel. Beiträge zum Verstehen der Bibel 27. Berlin: Lit Verlag, 2016. Janzen, David. The Violent Gift: Traumaʼs Subversion of the Deuteronomistic Historyʼs Narrative. Library of Hebrew Bible /​Old Testament Studies. New York: T&T Clark, 2012. Kelle, Brad E. “Dealing with the Trauma of Defeat: The Rhetoric of the Devastation and Rejuvenation of Nature in Ezekiel.” Journal of Biblical Literature 128, no. 3 (2009): 469–​490. Kern, Paul Bentley. Ancient Siege Warfare. Bloomington, IN: Souvenir, 2004. Kopf, Martina. Trauma und Literatur: Das Nicht-​Erzählbare erzählen—​Assia Djebar und Yvonne Vera. Frankfurt a.M.: Brandes & Apsel, 2005. Kühner, Angela. Kollektive Traumata—​ Annahmen, Argumente, Konzepte: Eine Bestandsaufnahme nach dem 11. September. Berlin: Berghof Forschungszentrum, 2002. Lang, Bernhard. Ezechiel: Der Prophet und das Buch. Erträge der Forschung 153. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1981. Laub, Dori. “Zeugnis ablegen oder Die Schwierigkeiten des Zuhörens.” In Niemand zeugt für den Zeugen. Erinnerungskultur und historische Verantwortung nach der Shoah, edited by Ulrich Baer, 68–​83. Frankfurt a.M.: Suhrkamp, 2000. Michel, Andreas. Gott und Gewalt gegen Kinder im Alten Testament. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 37. Tübingen: Mohr, 2003. Morgenthaler, Christoph. Seelsorge: Lehrbuch Praktische Theologie, Band 3. Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2009. O’Connor, Kathleen M. Jeremiah: Pain and Promise. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2011. O’Connor, Kathleen M. “How Trauma Studies Can Contribute to Old Testament Studies.” In Becker, Dochhorn, and Holt, Trauma and Traumatization, 210–​222. Poser, Ruth. Das Ezechielbuch als Trauma-​Literatur. Vetus Testamentum Supplementum 154. Leiden: Brill, 2012. Schöpflin, Karin. Theologie als Biographie im Ezechielbuch: Ein Beitrag zur Konzeption alttestamentlicher Prophetie. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 32. Tübingen: Mohr, 2002.

454   Ruth Poser Schroer, Silvia, and Thomas Staubli. Die Körpersymbolik der Bibel. Darmstadt: Wissen­ schaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1998. Sedlmeier, Franz. Das Buch Ezechiel: Kapitel 1–​ 24. Neuer Stuttgarter Kommentar Altes Testament 21/​1. Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 2002. Sklba, Richard J. “ ‘Until the Spirit from on High Is Poured out on Us’ (Isa 32:15): Reflections on the Role of the Spirit in the Exile.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 46, no. 1 (1984): 1–​17. Smith-​Christopher, Daniel L. A Biblical Theology of Exile. Overtures to Biblical Theology. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2002. Strauß, Hans. Hiob, 2. Teilband: 19,1–​42,17. Biblischer Kommentar Altes Testament 16/​2. Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2000. Stulman, Louis. “Reflections on the Prose Sermons in the Book of Jeremiah: Duhm’s and Mowinckel’s Contributions to Contemporary Trauma Readings.” In Bible through the Lens of Trauma, edited by Elizabeth Boase and Christopher G. Frechette, 125–​139. SemeiaSt 86. Atlanta: SBL Press, 2016. Stulman, Louis, and Hyun Chul Paul Kim. You Are My People: An Introduction to Prophetic Literature. Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 2010. Tengström, Sven. “‫רוח‬,” in Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Alten Testament, edited by G. Johannes Botterweck and Helmer Ringgren, 7:385–​418. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1993. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezechiel. Bbiblischer Kommentar Altes Testament 13. Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1969.

Chapter 24

Un certaintie s i n Fi rst C ontact? Ez e k i e l ’ s Struggle Towa rd a “ C om parativ e G a z e ” Daniel L. Smith-​C hristopher

1.  Dreams and Visions of First Contact In her 2014 monograph on exchanges between Indigenous and early European Settler societies in Colonial New England, Ann Marie Plane is especially interested in the function of dreams.1 In her second chapter, titled “Representation of Indigenous Dreaming at Contact and Beyond,” Plane cites a dream that was written down in 1869 yet relays an oral report from three hundred years previous. In the dream of a young Mi’kmaq woman, she is reported to have witnessed the following event: “A small island came floating in towards the land, with tall trees on it, and living beings, among whom was a man dressed in rabbit-​skin garments . . . ”2 Plane describes how the oral tradition noted that elders apparently “pondered over the girl’s dream, but could make nothing of it”; she then recounts how the oral tradition relates what happened on the very next day after the young woman described her dream: The next day, an event occurred that explained it all. Getting up in the morning, what should they see but a singular little island, as they supposed, which had drifted near to the land and become stationary there! There were trees on it, and branches to the trees, on which a number of bears, as they supposed, were crawling about. They all seized their bows, arrows, and spears, and rushed down to the shore, intending to shoot the bears; what was their surprise to find that these supposed bears were men, and that some of them were lowering down into the water a very singularly constructed canoe, into which several of them jumped and paddled ashore.

456   Daniel L. Smith-Christopher Among them was a man dressed in white—​a priest with his white stole on—​who came towards them making signs of friendship, raising his hand towards heaven, and addressing them in an earnest manner, but in a language which they could not understand.3

The “accuracy” of the tradition is not the central issue here—​the reporting of an oral tradition three hundred years afterward is to be respected in an indigenous oral tradition. Nonetheless, the interpretation with the dream is critically important for the present analysis. Reporting on later discussions, Plane reports: Crucial information was recorded by the English missionaries of the 1650s, who wrote down the questions posed by Indian listeners, questions that reveal a struggle over belief systems. Indians wrestled with Christian teachings that asked them to renounce deeply embedded practices of visioning and trance possession. As they struggled to accommodate these new approaches, they asked missionaries about European theories of dreaming and whether they should “believe in” their dreams.4

Note the phrases here like “struggle over” and “wrestled with.” I will return to them. Similarly, in his 1988 collection of essays, After Columbus: The Ethnohistory of Colonial North America, James Axtell refers (in a chapter titled “Through Another Glass Darkly: Early Indian Views of Europeans”) to an early story of a noted Ojibway prophet. Among his reported dreams was the following oral tradition, which was narrated by a later indigenous source in 1855: Men of strange appearance have come across the great water. They have landed on our island [North America]. Their skins are white like snow, and on their faces long hair grows. These people have come across the great water in wonderfully large canoes which have great white wings like those of a giant bird. The men have long and sharp knives, and they have long black tubes which they point at birds and animals. The tubes make a smoke that rises into the air just like the smoke from our pipes. From them come fire and such terrific noise that I was frightened, even in my dream.5

Note the comparative phrases such as white “like snow,” “large canoes,” and “wings like those of a giant bird.” It is only later that the indigenous of the Eastern Nations will themselves begin to take up the Bible and “argue back”—​as Joanna Brooks and Eileen R. Elrod have so wonderfully elucidated in their works on the Mohegan theologian Samson Occom (1723–​ 1792), and the Pequot biblical theologian William Apess (1798–​1839).6 In the meantime, the “struggle” to “make sense” resonates not only during the first days of cross-​cultural contact—​it continues even as familiarity deepens. Let us note these initial memories of a startling confusion—​the struggle, the shock of what is new or different.

Uncertainties in First Contact?    457

2.  A Lexical Observation in Ezekiel A rather striking set of lexical statistics can be seen in Figure 24.1, with regard to the use of the noun ‫ דְּ מוּת‬dəmûṯ “likeness” in the Hebrew Bible. The Genesis terms, of course, relate to describing the interesting relationship of humans to God—“image” (‫ ) ֶצלֶם‬and “likeness” (‫)דְּ מוּת‬. The first term, ‫ ֶצלֶם‬ṣelem, does turn up briefly when the writers of Ezekiel want to condemn idolatry (7:20; 16:17; and 23:14), but it is the use of the noun ‫ דְּ מוּת‬that occupies our attention here. In the Septuagint (LXX), it is typically rendered with the term ‘oμοιώμα—​which allows a further interesting comparison with the other locations in the Greek translation where that term is used, particularly another striking visual description of the appearance of God in Deuteronomy 4 (ten uses in the one chapter). Ironically, perhaps, there the point is to avoid being specific about a particular visual description, whereas Ezekiel seems to be struggling precisely to describe something to us as specifically as he can! In two other cases in Ezekiel’s visionary descriptions, 1:10 and 10:22, the LXX chooses to use the term ‘ομοιώσις (famous in later Christological debates), which then invites comparisons to Dan 7:5; and the LXX employs it twice in 10:16, again in a vision report.7 Finally, let us consider, as well, statistics for the choices to use the English phrase “something like” in the NRSV, seen in Figure 24.2. The four occasions in 4 Ezra where English translators use “something like” appear in descriptions of a vision, as do two of the three occasions in Acts (Peter’s vision of the food in the flying tablecloth, namely 10:11; 11:5). The Greek lexical choices suggest that these early translators presume a difficulty of being precise, which they then associated with vision reports in other contexts. In all these cases, we are using particular terms—rather than the generic comparative ‘ως, which is otherwise used hundreds of times to render simple comparisons: “like.” Is there something significant to be gained from these exercises in simply counting words? Why is somewhat more technical language chosen (in Hebrew, Greek, and English!) in the case of visions? Although it is not the focus of this chapter, similar statistics can be provided for another “observational” term, ‫ מַ ְראֶ ה‬marˀeh, related to the term used for a “vision” (‫ מַ ְראָ ה‬marˀāh), and normally rendered “appearance of ” in Ezekiel8—which is

0

Gen (3, 12%) 2Ki (1, 4%) 2Ch (1, 4%) Psa (1, 4%) Isa (2, 8%) Eze (16, 64%) Dan (1, 4%)

Figure 24.1.  The use of “likeness.”

16

458   Daniel L. Smith-Christopher 0

32

Exo (2, 4%) Jer (1, 2%) Eze (32, 70%) Act (3, 7%) Rev (3, 7%) Sir (1, 2%) 4Es (4, 9%)

Figure 24.2.  The use of “something like.”

Gen (12, 10%) Exo (3, 3%) Lev (12, 10%) Num (5, 4%) Deu (2, 2%) Jos (1, 1%) Jdg (2, 2%) 1Sa (3, 3%) 2Sa (3, 3%) Est (4, 3%) Job (2, 2%) Ecc (2, 2%) Sol (3, 3%) Isa (3, 3%) Eze (40, 34%) Dan (16, 14%) Joe (2, 2%) Nah (1, 1%)

0

40

Figure 24.3.  The use of “appearances of . . . ”

over a third of its uses in the Hebrew Bible, and where it is used no less than forty times, as seen in Figure 24.3. I propose that there is “something” significant in this lexical collection of terms that all seem to express a struggle for recognition, although the focus of this essay will be on the term ‫ דְּ מוּת‬in the vision accounts. At this stage, I believe that these statistics allow at least one potentially significant observation—the book of Ezekiel exhibits a striking majority of the uses of Hebrew and Greek terms that are much more nuanced terms of description than the simple equivalent of the English “like.” It is therefore entirely appropriate that the NRSV uses “something like” to express this. Furthermore, in some verses a clear sense of effort, even struggle, is discernible in the language that is used—​reminiscent of our Ojibway prophet noted above: Ezekiel 1:27. Upward from what appeared like the loins I saw something like gleaming amber, something that looked like fire enclosed all around; and downward from what looked like the loins I saw something that looked like fire, and there was a splendor all around.

The sense of struggle continues in the translations! The New Jerusalem and New International Version also use “appeared like,” “appeared to be,” while the New American

Uncertainties in First Contact?    459 Bible tries “resembled.” With the pun partially intended, this chapter asks, “Is something going on here?” The relatively high frequency of ‫ דְּ מוּת‬in Ezekiel has not gone unnoticed, of course. Greenberg suggests that the “frequent use of comparison in the description” was because the writer “signifies unwillingness to commit oneself to the substantial identity of the seen with the compared.”9 On the other hand, Margaret Odell titles her analysis of Ezekiel 1 with a phrase that represents her central argument, namely: “Ezekiel Saw What He Said He Saw,” and argues for precision in Ezekiel’s language. Referring to terms like ‫ דְּ מוּת‬in the text, Odell writes: “Ezekiel’s use of these terms in this context suggests that the distinction between form and appearance was at home in discourse about representational art. Far from indicating restraint, the terms ‫ דְּ מוּת‬and ‫ מראה‬are readily identifiable as discourse about concrete, aesthetic representations.”10 Similarly, John Kutsko asserts that the terms in Ezekiel can be “quite concrete”; he argues that “Ezekiel chose the terms dǝmȗṯ and mar’eh with knowledge of the Priestly ṣelem, and dǝmȗṯ.”11 Both Odell and Kutsko’s arguments for precision, however, might be undermined somewhat if the Priestly descriptions of Gen 1:26–​27 happen to follow rather than precede Ezekiel—​in which case one argument for concreteness might be more difficult. Arguing in another direction, Block, in the context of noting a variety of problems in the text of Ezek 1:4–​28 (confusion of gender and number, “difficult constructions”) argued that “the disorganized nature of the account is of a piece with the difficulties in its grammar and literary style.”12 When Block discusses the frequency of the use of ‫דְּ מוּת‬, he proposes that Ezekiel is “at a loss to find words which will describe the vision adequately,” and Ezekiel attempts to find terms “familiar to the prophet.” In the end, Block proposes that this may be a measure of the prophet’s “emotional state”13 and notes that Isaiah has no such difficulties with visionary accounts nor does the text reveal irregularities (e.g., Isaiah 6).14 Leslie Allen, on the other hand, uses the frequency of ‫ דְּ מוּת‬to argue for the importance of the term as “signaling sections” in the account of ­chapter 1, positing two “divisions”: between verses 5, 10, and 13, introduced by verse 4; and in verses 16, 22, and 26, introduced by verse 15. Allen disagrees with Block’s proposals about an “emotional state,” on the grounds that similar grammatical issues do occur elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible—​without emotional resonance.15 Jill Middlemas—​while noting Kutsko’s suggestions (similar to Odell) about Ezekiel’s strong use of the Priestly language of Gen 1:26–​27, including ‫ ֶצלֶם‬and ‫​—דְּ מוּת‬objects that Ezekiel is “cautious in his language by using comparatives such as the preposition ‘like’ and ‘as’. There is a lack of specificity in his recounting of the vision.”16 Nonetheless, Middlemas suggests that the language of Ezekiel can be “precise” as well.17 That being said, I suspect that Block was on to something significant in the text. Brad Kelle perceptively develops Block’s idea further: “the recurring use of indirect descriptions may also relate to the dimensions of trauma that characterize the prophet and the book.”18 Compare, for example, Tiemeyer’s 2008 essay on Zechariah’s visions, where she argues for the “unprocessed quality of vision reports”19 based on interesting observations like Zechariah’s requests for clarification (!), and the lack of “clear identification of objects”—​elements in some ways similar to Ezekiel’s visions, but without

460   Daniel L. Smith-Christopher the frequency of the comparative terms that we are noting in Ezekiel (‫ דְּ מוּת‬does not appear in Zechariah). Still, Tiemeyer’s suggestions of an “unprocessed quality” to the vision reports she is dealing with in Zechariah are, I think, not so dissimilar to the reading I am here proposing in this essay for Ezekiel 1, and to a lesser extent, ­chapter 10. Ezekiel’s theology might be “precise,” but his descriptions are closer to Tiemeyer’s language of “unprocessed” or even Block’s use of “emotional.” Why might this be so? This chapter attends to the cautions offered by Uehlinger, and more recently Stökl: “If the author was located in Babylonia, it follows that as readers we should attempt to understand the social location of the Judeans in Babylonia.”20 I am in agreement, and I would like to add that not only is Ezekiel situated in Babylon in the sixth century bce, but also we are dealing here with a case of forced cross-​cultural contact. Kelle’s proposal of “trauma” is on track. It is precisely this reality that may be reflected in the oddity of the texts of Ezekiel.

3.  A Comparative Gaze? I propose to bring two distinct lines of analysis within biblical studies together, in order to suggest a (hopefully) productive dialogue. First, I will introduce an aspect of the thought of R.S. Sugirtharajah, undoubtedly the most important, and among the most prolific, scholars working in the area of postcolonial analysis of the Bible. Among Sugirtharajah’s interests is the role of the Bible in postcolonial contexts—​thus already a combination of both historical-​critical issues in the biblical text’s interpretation, and a nuanced “history of interpretation” approach that is expanded into the social and political contexts of colonialism in the modern world. I then want to propose how Sugirtharajah’s work may be suggestive for thinking about the text of Ezekiel, and particularly its famous and characteristic vision reports. This chapter is offered as an experiment, in keeping with postcolonial analysis of the Bible more generally, since Sugirtharajah reminds us that “postcolonialism is a discipline in which everything is contested, everything is contestable, from the use of terms to the defining of chronological boundaries.”21 In his 2002 work Post-​Colonial Criticism and Biblical Interpretation, Sugirtharajah outlines “A Survey of Biblical Interpretation.”22 What he intends, however, is not simply a survey of ways that academics have read the Bible, but rather how readers who are also caught up in the realities of a postcolonial social and political context attempt to read the Bible, in ways that seek to make sense—​and some kind of social progress—​within those contexts. The six proposed styles of biblical interpretation are as follows, and notably follow what could be seen as a roughly chronological sequence, each set of questions seeming to build on the insights of the previous interpretive strategies: (1) Dissident Readings: Theologians from the dominant/​colonizer society come to dissent from the colonizing policies and politics in the colonies themselves. Sugirtharajah discusses two such cases: Fr. Bartolomé de Las Casas (ca. 1484–​1566), who protested against treatment of native New World indigenous peoples in what is today Mexico

Uncertainties in First Contact?    461 and Central America; and Rev. John Colenso (1814–​1883, the first Anglican bishop of the Colony of Natal), who critiqued British colonial practices in South Africa. These were “establishment figures” whose eyes were opened to mistreatment of the colonized. Therefore they protested the ways in which the Bible served the needs of oppressors.23 (2) Resistant Readings: Readings of the Bible have been proposed by members of the colonized themselves, particularly by those who are able to mount alternative readings of the Bible that challenge its general use by the colonizer. Note our observations (above) about the resistance to missionary criticisms, leading to indigenous readers of the Bible in a later generation.24 (3) Heritagist Readings: These are attempts by colonized readers of the Bible (whether Christian or not) to find examples in their own culture of ways that anticipate, equate, or lead to what are seen as the highest expressions of the colonizer’s Bible.25 (4) Nationalist Readings: Christians (or those in dialogue with Christians) sometimes propose ways that the Bible, and Christians themselves, can contribute to the nationalist enterprise within colonies. Christians from the Indian subcontinent who were involved with Gandhi, for example, often engaged in such nationalist readings of the text.26 (5) Liberationist Readings: Liberationists are often in conflict with more conservative readings of a nationalist character, where themes that articulate liberationist sentiments in biblical studies are proposed. These themes are often in close dialogue with socialist/​ Marxist critiques of a more conservative nationalist paradigm.27 (6) Dissentient Readings: A rhetoric of disappointment has sometimes been expressed toward both the nationalist and even socialist enterprises because they fail to address particular concerns of minorities within the nationally defined territories. Sugirtharajah includes here, for example, indigenous Miskitu Indians in their oppositional stance toward a socialist Nicaragua.28 If one were to place Sugirtharajah’s list next to various ways that anthropologists (for example) have tried to illustrate different forms of inter-​cultural contact (beginning, for example, with Spicer’s early articulations of ways that Indigenous peoples tried to “manage” such early contact in circumstances that changed from equal to quite unequal power differences29) then, as I previously suggested, a kind of chronological sequence may be evident (e.g. some sets of questions seem to presume the previous ones, or changes in circumstances, etc.). I cite Sugirtharajah’s work as a model of the different ways that two societies not only come into contact, but also struggle to make sense of that contact. In each case in Sugirtharajah’s survey, two societies are struggling to answer the question, “How does ‘this’ relate to ‘that’?” How does the Bible—​with its own themes and broad diversity of texts—​make sense in the particular social and political circumstances of unequal power that is of interest to postcolonial analysis?

462   Daniel L. Smith-Christopher In order to propose further insights from Sugirtharajah’s categorizations, I now borrow a term that is frequently used to describe a socially developed point of view—​namely the reference to a “gaze.” Originally proposed in the context of feminist analysis (in reference to the “male gaze”),30 I propose that all six of Sugirtharajah’s categories expand upon what might be called a “comparative gaze.” Why is this gaze “comparative”? It is obvious in many of Sugirtharajah’s cases, that the “gaze” is going both ways—​from the colonizer to the colonized, and then back toward the colonizer. In the context of this exchange of “glances,” the stakes can be exceedingly high—​dealing with ways in which people can manage to propose a more just society, and critique immoral behavior that is all-​too-​often ignored on the part of religious personnel in circumstances of injustice between two societies in contact. Finally, the nomenclature of a “gaze” alludes to how these issues can sometimes be addressed without a vital and real engagement of the two societies in dialogue—​but rather built on arms-​length impressions of the “other,” or on a perceived right to dictate the terms of exchange. Notably, in-​depth familiarity with other cultures is presumed in only some of Sugirtharajah’s cases. In fact, the initial forms seem more characteristic of “first” or perhaps “early” contact, while the latter forms depend on more interaction and familiarity in order to become articulated. In other words, this further illustrates why I would argue that Sugirtharajah’s categories seem to fall into a kind of rough chronological order, including how increased familiarity suggests more detailed forms of response. Finally, I would suggest that early responses are more impressionistic; they are based upon what the colonized are told or encounter most frequently in early contact. Given the known stressors of forced migration (cf. Block’s idea of “emotional stress”), David Vanderhooft’s 2014 essay on Ezekiel in the Babylonian context posits a kind of “borrowed” vocabulary in Ezekiel: “The terms in question came into the prophet’s lexicon as a consequence of the type of direct experience in these spheres that we may assume was normal for deportees. . . .”31 Vanderhooft notes unusual terms in this book that he classifies as juridical or mercantile in nature (e.g., “neckstock,” 19:9; and the term for “assigned quote” [‫ ]אֶ ׁ ְש ּ ָכר‬used in 27:15, rather than the term used for “quota” in Num 5:7). While in agreement with Vanderhooft, let me further observe that in the context of foreign domination, even before new religious terms are learned, there is the necessity of learning the vocabulary of authority and power—​terms like “police,” “authorities,” “your papers,” “permission,” and “now!” (cf. “Who gave you permission . . . ?” in Ezra 3:7 and 5:9; Neh 13:6). It is precisely this aspect of the examining vocabulary, and thus the “comparative” vocabulary of visual accounts of Ezekiel, that I think is the most intriguing. Before elaborating upon this aspect, however, I now introduce the second relevant series of questions and debates—​much closer to an analysis of the book of Ezekiel itself. Then I will propose a synthesis of this second set of perspectives with my observations of Sugirtharajah’s work. In Ezekiel scholarship, there have been two trajectories for this “context in Babylon”: lexical issues (identification of loan-​words from Akkadian, etc.), and iconographic ones (what Ezekiel and others may well have seen—​palace decorations, public monumental inscriptions, cylinder seals, etc.).32 Given the visual nature of the subject of our interest, let us focus on the latter.

Uncertainties in First Contact?    463

4.  Ezekiel’s Visual Descriptions Recent work on Ezekiel has continued an approach usually now associated with the inaugural work of Othmar Keel and Christoph Uehlinger.33 Their work has been notable for an iconographic, image-​based approach to possible evidence in Ezekiel, specifically the evidence of direct engagement with Neo-​Babylonian images as well as ideological motifs and ideas. The potential significance of this approach becomes clear for a re-​ reading of Ezekiel’s vision reports, since Christoph Uehlinger is surely correct when he observes that more than any other biblical book, the book of Ezekiel is replete with images of different kinds, vision reports, accounts of visually conspicuous actions to be understood as signifying communication, mythopoetic descriptions, allegories, metaphors . . .34

Uehlinger thus proposes that at least some of the famous vision reports, or to be more precise—​certain portions of these vision reports, may have originated in actual encounters with Mesopotamian motifs. For example, Uehlinger argues for a redactional approach to Ezekiel’s inaugural vision based on what he identifies as an earlier segment that can be favorably compared with Mesopotamian ideologies as opposed to later imagery that seem entirely incompatible with a Neo-​Babylonian context. Of the earlier segments, he suggests: Ezekiel’s inaugural vision is not only a new and on first sight unusual description of a deity or of theophany, an aspect on which most commentators put their strongest if not exclusive focus. It envisions the deity as the most eminent entity in a more complex system, which is itself consistent with Assyro-​Babylonian (or Late Babylonian) cosmological conceptions more than with anything else we know from the Bible or the ancient Near East. As much as with theology, the earliest layer of Ezek. 1 is concerned with cosmology.35

But it is precisely the complex imagery—​specifically the four “living creatures” (‫חַ ּיו ֹת‬ ḥayyôṯ) in 1:5, for example—​added to this earlier cosmological layer that suggests to Uehlinger a later editorial framework: For our present concern, however, what matters most is to recognize that such images were unknown in Babylonia and would for sure have been misunderstood as monstrous creatures in a Babylonian context. The same holds true for another feature, namely that each . . . should have had four different faces. Both developments must have occurred at a time (roughly the fourth century BCE) when the Ezekiel scroll was in the hands of scribes operating in Palestine, that is close to Egypt and the southern Levant, and not in Babylonia.36

Uehlinger is thus critical of previous Ezekiel scholarship (he cites specifically Greenberg and Block) that resorts to the term “mysterious” too quickly, and who

464   Daniel L. Smith-Christopher thus presume that the text, when read as a whole, lacks coherence.37 Uehlinger argues instead: Ezek. 1 looks to me like a composite text which testifies to an intense and fascinating struggle for meaning by several generations of scribes. The original key of the ominous visionary message seems to have been lost at some time, probably when the scroll was disconnected from its originally Babylonian background.38

Thus, in the earliest portions of the text, Uehlinger argues for a Neo-​Babylonian setting: I would postulate that the author of Ezek. 1 (in its initial version) had considerable exposure to Babylonian cosmological scholarship, that he clearly shows interest in such knowledge; and that he clearly integrated at least part of it... into his evolving worldview.39

What Uehlinger had already suggested in his earlier work with Keel, and later elaborated, was an “astralization” of biblical descriptions of the deity—​which imply strong influences from the clearly astralized depictions of deities and divine symbols in Mesopotamian contexts.40 In the wake of Keel and Uehlinger’s work, Aster has developed an interesting example on “iconographic” analysis of vision reports in Ezekiel.41 Taking up the question of the “glory of God” traditions in the Hebrew Bible, Aster points out that there are distinctive aspects of Ezekiel’s reports about that entity. In other biblical accounts, visual imagery of “fire” or “cloud” is associated with its appearance. Most of these texts are associated with Sinai: Exodus 16:7a, 10. And in the morning you shall see the glory of the Lord, because he has heard your complaining against the Lord. . . .And as Aaron spoke to the whole congregation of the Israelites, they looked toward the wilderness, and the glory of the Lord appeared in the cloud. Exodus 24:16, 17. The glory of the Lord settled on Mount Sinai, and the cloud covered it for six days; on the seventh day he called to Moses out of the cloud. . . . Now the appearance of the glory of the Lord was like a devouring fire on the top of the mountain in the sight of the people of Israel. Leviticus 9:6, 23–​24. And Moses said, “This is the thing that the Lord commanded you to do, so that the glory of the Lord may appear to you. . . .Moses and Aaron entered the tent of meeting, and then came out and blessed the people; and the glory of the Lord appeared to all the people. Fire came out from the Lord and consumed the burnt offering and the fat on the altar; and when all the people saw it, they shouted and fell on their faces. Numbers 16:42. And when the congregation had assembled against them, Moses and Aaron turned toward the tent of meeting; the cloud had covered it and the glory of the Lord appeared. 1 Kings 8:11. . . .so that the priests could not stand to minister because of the cloud; for the glory of the Lord filled the house of the Lord.

Uncertainties in First Contact?    465 Certainly later texts likewise spoke of the “glory” as a visual experience: Isaiah 40:5. Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”

However, as Aster points out, Ezekiel’s reports on this entity are unique because of the explicit focus on the appearance of a strange entity: Ezekiel 1:1, 27–​28. In the thirtieth year, in the fourth month, on the fifth day of the month, as I was among the exiles by the river Chebar, the heavens were opened, and I saw visions of God. . . .Upward from what appeared like the loins I saw something like gleaming amber, something that looked like fire enclosed all around; and downward from what looked like the loins I saw something that looked like fire, and there was a splendor all around. Like the bow in a cloud on a rainy day, such was the appearance of the splendor all around. This was the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the Lord. When I saw it, I fell on my face, and I heard the voice of someone speaking.

Important aspects of this particular description recur in Ezekiel 8, Ezekiel 8:1–​2. In the sixth year, in the sixth month, on the fifth day of the month, as I sat in my house, with the elders of Judah sitting before me, the hand of the Lord God fell upon me there. I looked, and there was a figure that looked like a human being; below what appeared to be its loins it was fire, and above the loins it was like the appearance of brightness, like gleaming amber.

Aster points especially to pictorial representations of a “radiance” around the symbols for the divine in Mesopotamian iconography, symbols that portray visual changes precisely at the “loins” of the anthropomorphized portions of the illustrations. Thus, Aster agrees with Keel and Uehlinger that common images of Mesopotamian gods accompanying the Mesopotamian king may be a prime source for Ezekiel’s description of the “glory” of God, which is so different from precedent:42 Rather than deriving from the Torah, Ezekiel’s depictions . . . seem to derive from Mesopotamian artistic depictions of divinities associated with imperial power, depictions that the Akkadian language in Ezekiel’s period associated with the term melammu. Melammu is one of the oldest royal and divine attributes in cuneiform culture. . . .However, in Neo-​Assyrian times, usage patterns gradually changed so that melammu came to be used in a manner identical to other Akkadian terms for radiance and luminosity. This change was due to the need for the Assyrians to propagate a powerful royal ideology.43

The term melammu, Aster argues, “expresses the concept of the king as assisted in war by the radiance of the gods.”44 Notably, Jonathan Stökl proposes an even more dramatic argument in his own developments of Uehlinger’s work, although Stökl is interested in textual

466   Daniel L. Smith-Christopher as well as iconographic measures of familiarity.45 Stökl argues that the presence of Mesopotamian influences can be arranged according to certain levels of social contact, and even status: The learning reflected in the book of Ezekiel can be allocated into different categories. There is priestly and (Judean) legal knowledge, knowledge of iconographic traditions, and allusions to Mesopotamian literary and scholarly traditions.46

However, some elements of the iconographic influences may well have indicated that Ezekiel was involved in special training, as alluded in the story of Daniel and his three friends in Daniel 1: This kind of knowledge could either be transmitted through seeing some of the iconography on palace and temple walls, or, indeed, through the wider stream of tradition. In interpreting the influence of iconographic traditions it is important to be aware that the vast majority of the iconographic programme in Babylonia would not have been easily accessible to the casual observer, since the inside of temples and palaces were only accessible to the religious and/​or political elites. Guests of the king (otherwise known as ‘hostages’) may have had access to parts of the palace, at most they would not have been allowed to more than the public gardens and forecourts of the temples but even that is uncertain.47

In her response to Stökl’s interesting proposals, Nevader is a bit more cautious about arguments for specialized knowledge, although she grants that arguments for a strong familiarity with “Assyro-​Babylonian traditions” seem convincing in the case of Ezekiel. She states that “the writers of Ezekiel know Assyro-​Babylonian traditions and, indeed, know them better perhaps than anyone else in our biblical corpus.”48 But what kind of interaction is necessary for this degree of familiarity? Responding specifically to Stökl’s proposals for Ezekiel’s possibly receiving a formalized training in Babylon, Nevader writes: I am in principle very open to the possibility of “Ezekiel the schoolboy,” but I am as-​ yet unconvinced that some of the simpler explanations have been fully exhausted. Is it not possible, for example, that the author’s knowledge of and engagement with the Mesopotamian scholastic giants derives from their exposure to them in oral form?49

Furthermore, Nevader quite rightly asks about the intended meaning of various forms of cultural appropriation: What terminology, for example, do we employ to explain what the authors are doing with their acculturated tradition? Are they “borrowing”; “co-​opting”; “adapting”; “subverting”? The terms are by no means mutually exclusive, and I do not wish to imply that a given author cannot accomplish one or more of these things at any one time, but each term does entail something slightly different and implies a different intentionality on the part of an author.50

Uncertainties in First Contact?    467 In sum—​we have arguments about Ezekiel’s striking familiarity with Mesopotamian terminology, and especially the imagery. Furthermore, as Nevader points out, the ways in which this familiarity are processed are also significant—​and the ways we describe that appropriation will result in quite different assessments in what the texts of Ezekiel are proposing to do. In bringing these various observations together, I offer a sociologically informed proposal: there is significance to the context of Ezekiel’s lexical choices that may reveal a visual and early engagement with images in the Neo-​Babylonian context—​but that the context of these descriptions is in at least two (Ch. 1–​3 and Chs. 8–​10) of his “vision report” texts (chs. 1–​3 and 8–​10) reveal a rather strong sense of wrestling with the unfamiliar—​or engaging in a “comparative gaze.” It is thus possible that we may be able to construct yet another argument for the early context of at least some texts in Ezekiel, historically located in the Judean encampments of prisoners of war after 597 and 587. This would not be based on familiarity—​but rather the language of unfamiliarity. Ezekiel’s language arguably involves lexical choices that do not reveal more than an initial familiarity, certainly not yet depicted in confident descriptions or terms—​but rather the language of struggle and “the shock of the new.”

5.  Summary of a Tentative Proposal If this argument is valid, then we may have a way of also responding at least some aspects of Uehlinger’s important critique of an aspect of previous Ezekiel commentators, who in their discussions of the vision reports in Ezekiel, retreat to the term “mysterious”: Scholars who argue for the literary unity and for a single-​handed authorship (for instance, Moshe Greenberg or Daniel I. Block) regularly resort to explanations of the kind that since the object described is of a mysterious nature, the alerted reader should not expect straightforward coherence or clear understanding of the details. I cannot but express my skepticism against such an interpretative stance, which in my view installs mysticism in the wrong place. When we modern scholars do not understand an ancient text, we should not put the blame on those who produced it; neither should we surround them with an aura of admiration or project on them modern or a-​historical assumptions about the manner mysterious realities would have been expressed in antiquity. Modern critics should be interested in the ‘mysterious’ as a category for understanding and a key for disclosure only, rather than using that key to prevent critical analysis.51

What we are suggesting is that there may be another reason for “resorting” to the “mysterious”—​and that is the very language of unfamiliarity that the text of Ezekiel uses. If, as Uehlinger suggests, the writer of Ezekiel’s vision reports is quite certain of what they are describing, they have certainly chosen a vague, even strained, series of terms in order to do so.

468   Daniel L. Smith-Christopher Perhaps a missing element in some of the previous work on Ezekiel’s encounter with, familiarity with, and attempted translation of, his Neo-​Babylonian context is the postcolonial realities not only of forced migration, but also “forced” cross-​cultural contact. If Daniel 1, for example, is going to be appealed to for an idea about Ezekiel “the student” (of cuneiform?), then we must not overlook the rather sobering accompaniment to Daniel and his friends’ “training,” namely the executions, the impaling, mauling by animals, and fiery furnaces which are in the shadows of virtually all the “Diaspora Story” traditions of the Hebrew Bible—​including Esther, Tobit, Joseph, as well as Daniel. If Ezekiel is in school, the dangers of a low grade might have been severe! This raises one final point. If Ezekiel is struggling to describe . . . to whom is he describing? To fellow exiles who “see” what Ezekiel “sees” as well—​ perhaps on the impressive walls of Babylon during an exilic “field trip” to the big city (or if Nebuchadrezzar’s inscriptions are to be believed, “seeing Babylon” while working in forced labor units in Babylon)?52 Is the vision report about images that only Ezekiel sees because of his privileged location as a student? The struggle that is evident in Ezekiel’s vision reports suggests that his listeners (or “observers” in the case of the famous “sign acts”) are either clueless about what Ezekiel is talking about—​or frightened by what they also see. Either way, the language of a struggle to communicate is perhaps as indicative of the social location of the vision reports as either the actual content of the vision, or the visual prompts in Neo-​Babylonian architecture and iconography. We are, once again, back to Block’s suggestions of “emotional stress,” highlighted by Kelle’s suggested “trauma.” Ezekiel remains the refugee prophet.

Notes 1. Marie Ann Plane, Dreams and the Invisible World in Colonial New England: Indians, Colonists, and the Seventeenth Century (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2014). 2. Plane, Dreams and the Invisible World, 45. 3. Cited in Plane, Dreams and the Invisible World, 45–​46. 4. Plane, Dreams and the Invisible World, 51. 5. James Axtell, After Columbus: Essays in the Ethnohistory of Colonial North America (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988), 130. 6. Joanna Brooks, American Lazarus: Religion and the Rise of African-​American and Native American Literatures (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003); and Eileen Razzari Elrod, Piety and Dissent: Race, Gender, and Biblical Rhetoric in Early American Autobiography (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 2008). 7. For the variety in Greek renderings, see Walther Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 1–​24, trans. Ronald E. Clements (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979), 82n4c. 8. I thank my colleague Dr. Jina Kang for the suggestion that I should also take note of this term as well. 9. Moshe Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–​20 (AB22; New York: Doubleday, 1983), 52–​53.

Uncertainties in First Contact?    469 10. Margaret Odell, “Ezekiel Saw What He Said He Saw: Genres, Forms, and the Vision of Ezekiel 1,” in The Changing Face of Form Criticism for the Twenty-​First Century (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2003), 171. 11. John Kutsko, Divine Presence and Absence in the Book of Ezekiel (Biblical and Judaic Studies 7; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2000), 67. 12. Daniel Block, “Text and Emotion: A Study in the ‘Corruptions’ in Ezekiel’s Inaugural Vision (Ezekiel 1:4–​28),” CBQ 50 (1988): 418–​442, here 425. 13. Block, “Text and Emotion,” 433. 14. Block, “Text and Emotion,” 429–​430. 15. Leslie Allen, “The Structure and Intention of Ezek. 1,” VT 43 (1993): 145–​161, here 147. 16. Jill Middlemas, “Transformation of the Image,” in Transformations of the Text, Tradition, and Theology in Ezekiel (Cambridge: Clarke, 2010), 131. 17. Middlemas, “Transformation of the Image,” 133. 18. Brad Kelle, Ezekiel: A Commentary in the Wesleyan Tradition (New Beacon Bible Commentary; Kansas City, MO: Beacon Hill, 2013), 71. 19. Lena-​Sofia Tiemeyer, “Zechariah’s Unprocessed Visionary Experience,” VT 58 (2008): 580–​581. 20. Jonathan Stökl, “Schoolboy Ezekiel: Remarks on the Transmission of Learning,” WO 45 (2015): 52. 21. R. S. Sugirtharajah, Post-​Colonial Criticism and Biblical Interpretation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 12. 22. Sugirtharajah, Post-​Colonial Criticism, 43–​73. 23. Sugirtharajah, Post-​Colonial Criticism, 44–​52. 24. Sugirtharajah, Post-​Colonial Criticism, 52–​55. 25. Sugirtharajah, Post-​Colonial Criticism, 55–​62. 26. Sugirtharajah, Post-​Colonial Criticism, 63–​64. 27. Sugirtharajah, Post-​Colonial Criticism, 65–​67. 28. Sugirtharajah, Post-​Colonial Criticism, 67–​70. 29. Edward Spicer, Cycles of Conquest: The Impact of Spain, Mexico, and the United States on the Indians of the Southwest, 1533–​1960 (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1962). 30. Laura Mulvey, “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema,” in Film Theory and Criticism: Introductory Readings (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999); cf. Daniel Smith-​ Christopher, A Biblical Theology of Exile (OBT; Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2002), 157. 31. David Vanderhooft, “Ezekiel in and on Babylon,” Transeuphratène 46 (2014): 107. 32. Stökl, “Schoolboy Ezekiel.” 33. Othmar Keel and Christoph Uehlinger, Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God in Ancient Israel (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996). 34. Christoph Uehlinger, “Virtual Vision vs. Actual Show: Strategies of Visualization in the Book of Ezekiel,” WO 45 (2015): 66–​67. 35. Uehlinger, “Virtual Vision,” 73. 36. Uehlinger, “Virtual Vision,” 80. 37. Uehlinger, “Virtual Vision,” 77–​78. 38. Uehlinger, “Virtual Vision,” 81 (emphasis added). 39. Uehlinger, “Virtual Vision,” 78–​79. 40. Keel and Uehlinger, Gods, Goddesses, and Images, 283–​372. 41. Shawn Zelig Aster, “Ezekiel’s Adaptation of Mesopotamian ‘Melammu’,” Die Welt des Orients 45 (2015): 10–​21.

470   Daniel L. Smith-Christopher 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52.

This is also noted in Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1, 122. Aster, “Ezekiel’s Adaptation,” 15. Aster, “Ezekiel’s Adaptation,” 12–​15. Stökl, “Schoolboy Ezekiel.” Stökl, “Schoolboy Ezekiel,” 229. Stökl, “Schoolboy Ezekiel,” 230. Madhavi Nevadar, “On Reading Ezekiel by the Waters of Babylon,” WO 45 (2015): 99–​110, here 101. Nevader, “On Reading Ezekiel,” 101. Nevader, “On Reading Ezekiel,” 103. Uehlinger, “Virtual Vision,” 77–​78. Cf. Smith-​Christopher, Biblical Theology of Exile, 66–​68.

Bibliography Allen, Leslie. “The Structure and Intention of Ezek. 1.” Vetus Testamentum 43 (1993): 145–​161. Aster, Shawn Zelig. “Ezekiel’s Adaptation of Mesopotamian ‘Melammu’.” Die Welt des Orients 45 (2015): 10–​21. Axtell, James. After Columbus: Essays in the Ethnohistory of Colonial North America. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988. Block, Daniel. “Text and Emotion: A Study in the ‘Corruptions’ in Ezekiel’s Inaugural Vision (Ezekiel 1: 4–​28).” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 50 (1988): 418–​442. Brooks, Joanna. American Lazarus: Religion and the Rise of African-​American and Native American Literatures. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003. Elrod, Eileen Razzari. Piety and Dissent: Race, Gender, and Biblical Rhetoric in Early American Autobiography. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 2008. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 1–​20. AB 22. New York: Doubleday, 1983. Keel, Othmar and Christoph Uehlinger, Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God in Ancient Israel. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1996. Kelle, Brad. Ezekiel: A Commentary in the Wesleyan Tradition. New Beacon Bible Commentary. Kansas City, MO: Beacon Hill, 2013. Kutsko, John. Divine Presence and Absence in the Book of Ezekiel. Biblical and Judaic Studies 7. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. 2000. Middlemas, Jill. “Transformation of the Image.” In Transformations of the Text, Tradition, and Theology in Ezekiel (Princeton Theological Monograph Series, 127), edited by William Tooman and Michael Lyons, 113–​38. Cambridge: Clarke, 2010. Mulvey, Laura. “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema.” In Film Theory and Criticism: Introductory Readings, edited by Leo Braudy and Marshall Cohen, 833–​44. New York: Oxford University Press. 1999. Nevader, Madhavi. “On Reading Ezekiel by the Waters of Babylon.” Die Welt des Orients 45 (2015): 99–​110. Odell, Margaret. “Ezekiel Saw What He Said He Saw: Genres, Forms, and the Vision of Ezekiel 1.” In The Changing Face of Form Criticism for the Twenty-​First Century, edited by Marvin Sweeney and Ehud Ben-​Zvi, 162–​76. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2003. Plane, Marie Ann. Dreams and the Invisible World in Colonial New England: Indians, Colonists, and the Seventeenth Century. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2014.

Uncertainties in First Contact?    471 Smith-​Christopher, Daniel. A Biblical Theology of Exile. Overtures to Biblical Theology. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2002. Spicer, Edward. Cycles of Conquest: The Impact of Spain, Mexico, and the United States on the Indians of the Southwest, 1533–​1960. Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1962. Stökl, Jonathan. “Schoolboy Ezekiel: Remarks on the Transmission of Learning.” Die Welt des Orients 45 (2015): 50–​61. Sugirtharajah, R. S. Post-​ Colonial Criticism and Biblical Interpretation. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002. Tiemeyer, Lena-​Sofia. “Zechariah’s Unprocessed Visionary Experience.” Vetus Testamentum 58 (2008): 573–​594. Uehlinger, Christoph. “Virtual Vision vs. Actual Show: Strategies of Visualization in the Book of Ezekiel.” WO 45 (2015): 62–​84. Vanderhooft, David. “Ezekiel in and on Babylon.” Transeuphratène 46 (2014): 99–​119. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezekiel 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 1–​24. Translated by Ronald E. Clements. Hermeneia. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979.

Chapter 25

Ezekiel’s Ma p of Fu tu re Past Carla Sulzbach

Most recent scholarship sees the restoration program of Ezekiel’s concluding chapters as utopian, almost a paradise regained. But re-​reading Ezekiel’s spaces against the backdrop of utopia/​dystopia allows for different insights to arise.1 This chapter will look at Ezekiel through spatial lenses and explore how the book can be better understood by carefully mapping and connecting its various components. I will focus specifically on urban and temple spaces as these form the pivot around which Ezekiel’s general geographical re-​scripting turns. The book of Ezekiel is a text of protest, blaming various classes of leaders and their followers for the downfall of the southern kingdom of Judah and the loss of the Temple in 587 BCE. But it is very clearly also a polemical text. Throughout, the main enemy of the people and of God is identified as all and any representations of Babylonian cult and culture. By appropriating Babylonian cult images and turning them on their heads Ezekiel wants to drive home the point of their ineffectiveness but also of their corrosiveness on the purity of the Israelite cult and mindset. The book of Ezekiel is also a subversive narrative in that it wants to correct the flaws it sees in God’s acting in Israel’s history. It proclaims almost arrogantly that God gave the people bad laws by which they could not live (20:25). At the same time, it challenges the divinely commanded layout of the tribal division of the Land by creating a wholly new internal geography. This includes a rearrangement of the sacred and secular spaces within the Land and a virtual erasure of the surrounding world. The narrative spaces in the text can be understood in a variety of ways. A number of methodologies from the social sciences—​particularly social geography -​have been successfully applied to biblical texts over the past thirty years. In this chapter, however, I will look especially at what the plain text can tell us about Ezekiel’s spaces.

Ezekiel’s Map of Future Past    473

1.  Mapping Ezekiel’s World Ezekiel’s narrative veers from the real spaces of the besieged and later destroyed Jerusalem and its Temple and the place of exile in Babylonia to the imagined spaces of heaven and a visionary future Land, City, and Temple. Here we see that the correlation between horizontal (earthly) and vertical (heavenly) spaces as well as mundane and fantastic spaces need cataloging before they can be properly “placed.” Questions that immediately arise concern the “placement” of the various locales in time and space: are they on earth, or in heaven, do they represent reality or do they concern the future? A spatial approach to a text like Ezekiel can take many directions. It is immediately clear that the narrative offers a map. It is an evolving map to be sure, the author of which understands himself to be at the center of that map, considering himself as its cartographer and the architect of the built environment contained in it. In that sense, the author becomes likewise a character in his own narrative, as he weaves it along, together with the characters created within and brought in from without, as perceived from his own lived space. They move about on the map, and enter and leave the edifices and landmarks which, in turn, emerge and disappear, morph and reappear. Thus, an image emerges of a map with clear boundaries, thresholds, and a strong sense of ‘in’ and ‘out’, of belonging and of being excluded. This map grows, in various stages, around a sacred center from which it fans out. Yet, Ezekiel’s geography does more. It reaches far beyond and creates tension between the strict boundaries laid out on the ground in the present and those breaking into the realm that lies beyond time and space. But before it reaches its lofty climax, and is confronted with his ‘here and now’, God instructs Ezekiel himself to draw a map (4:1-​3):2 “1] “And you, O mortal, take a brick and put it in front of you, and incise on it a city, Jerusalem. 2] Set up a siege against it, and build towers against it, and cast a mound against it; pitch camps against it; and bring up battering rams round about it. 3] Then take an iron plate, and place it as an iron wall between yourself and the city, and set your face against it. Thus it shall be under siege, you besiege it. This shall be a sign to the House of Israel.”

This is, in fact, the first of many increasingly negative mentions of Jerusalem. Those that follow, as will be seen, are indicative of Ezekiel’s very intense suspicion against the city as an institution in general. At the very end, the last two chapters of Ezekiel describe a world in harmony, with a peaceful society consisting of the reconstituted twelve original tribes, containing a city and a temple3 fully functioning to serve the people and the resident deity.4 There are no more enemies, and nature has been realigned in such a way that it fully provides for all human

474   Carla Sulzbach needs. Everyone and everything has a fixed place and function. These upbeat conditions are in stark contrast with the generally gloomy character of much of the rest of the book. Yet, these last two chapters cannot be understood in isolation from the narrative block of ­chapters 40–​46, and the book as a whole. By reading Ezekiel as an organic whole, seeing the intentions of the author(s) dispersed throughout the book leading up logically to a grand climax, it will become clear that there is rhyme and reason to the order of its various components and that the framer(s) of Ezekiel’s text built up to a very deliberate ideologically shaped radical ending to the book. This order will guide us to the temporal and spatial location of this ending. I will assume that the intentions of the framer(s) of the book are voiced by Ezekiel, the narrative character, the priest-​prophet who was led into exile ten years prior to the destruction of Jerusalem and its temple in 587/​6 BCE, as well as by the divine voice (secondarily through that of Ezekiel), which represents equally a narrative character. The narrative consists of thematic clusters, some of which are connected by carefully placed lexical clues as well as by the usage of opposition, analogy, and allusion. A number of these clues have either been overlooked or deemed subject to emendation. Thus, by viewing these problematic passages not in isolation but within their context, it will become clear that they are relevant and that emendation is unnecessary. At the opening, we find a society in disarray.5 Of the former twelve-​tribe collective, only Judah and Benjamin with the itinerant Levites, were left. This state of affairs was a thorn in Ezekiel’s eye as it proved to be a stumbling block for a permanent restoration of a reunified Israel under God. Judah was surrounded by hostile nations whose religions were seen as a constant temptation for the unfaithful Judeans and acts of idolatry appeared even within the holy precincts of the temple in Jerusalem. Therefore, before a true restoration could be considered, the cult and its followers had to be purified and temptation removed. At the end of the book, all this is, in fact, accomplished. But the narrative road to this finale is a rocky one—​even if very ingenious and glorious. It is almost as if the very angry author/​narrator slashes systematically through every single obstacle with a narrative cleaver.

2.  Restoration or Forced Repatriation? Traditionally, Ezekiel’s last nine chapters (40–​48) are read in light of a grand scheme that would restore reunified Israel to its land with a resplendent Jerusalem as its capital, a newly rebuilt temple and with a guarantee of the eternal indwelling of the divine presence. Israel, having fully repented of its sins which had brought the destruction and exile upon it, would now be reconciled with its God and enjoy the demise of the nations or be joined with those who would finally recognize the superiority of Israel’s God -​all this to take place on a reconfigured paradisiacal earth, home to a universal utopia. But is it really this simple?

Ezekiel’s Map of Future Past    475 The passages in those chapters, as well as elsewhere in the book that are commonly understood as referring to a restoration, do not read as comfortably and obvious as do the sister passages in Isaiah and Jeremiah.6 Thus, some dissenting scholarly voices argue for the exact opposite. Rather they see this as a redemption program and renewed covenant between the divine and the people with a clean slate for the latter: not liberation, but forced repatriation; not salvation, but more punishment as free will is rescinded. Baruch Schwartz, in particular, presents a strong case for such an interpretation. He reads the purported restoration-​oriented chapters from the point of view of the divine, seeking God’s motivation for the deeds as communicated by Ezekiel. In Schwartz’s view, the passages that seem to point to true restoration do not do so within the larger Ezekielian treatment of the reality of exile and return, which, instead, he stands on its head.7 One of the key passages communicating God’s ultimate motivation for restoring Israel is found in 36:32, “Not for your sake do I do this,” says the Lord God, “let it be known to you. Be ashamed and confounded for your own ways, O house of Israel!” The only thing left for a people incapable of actual repentance is to be continuously ashamed, also knowing that they are undeserving of their redemption. As Schwartz aptly puts it, “[S]‌ince they do not deserve any of the good fortune [God] is bestowing upon them, it would be unfair for them to be allowed to enjoy it. Prosperity and peace they will have, but not happiness or peace of mind; rather the haunting, distressing memory of their past crimes forevermore.”8 Israel is not forgiven, but only restored to save God’s honor in the face of the other nations. In the next verse (36:33) and also before (36:25), there is mention of a ritual purification as God will sprinkle Israel with clean water cleansing them from the impurity of their idols.9 In addition (36:27) they will receive a new heart of flesh to replace their heart of stone and they will receive a new spirit. This is nothing but a radical reconditioning of the people, effectively removing their free will.10 Although Schwartz’s work has much merit, it does not answer all of the questions that emerge from the text regarding Ezekiel’s motivation for his harsh, black-​and-​ white future vision.11 Yet these questions find their answers in the very layout of the book itself.12 While I agree with Schwartz’s view of the forced repatriation as a strait-​ jacket imposed on the entire community, we may take a more nuanced view of the deity. By reading the text along more spatial lines, other characteristics of the text emerge. Over thirty years ago, Katheryn Darr undertook such a spatial reading in a compelling essay, entitled “The Wall around Paradise,” in which she observes very astutely that the bliss of Ezekiel’s end scenario does not extend to the surrounding nations.13 She shows that the Edenic effects that are described in 47:1-​12 are not global but are rather a purely local phenomenon.14 In that sense, she suggests that the exclusion from paradise of the foreign nations is effectuated by a wall –​similar to the wall that made Eden inaccessible to the first couple after their expulsion. Her observations can be placed within a larger context. In the original story in Genesis the first humans, who had been intended as its permanent inhabitants, were banished with a cherub guard to keep them out for all times, suggestive of an impenetrable fence. The concept of the wall in Darr’s title is unfortunately

476   Carla Sulzbach not exploited to its fullest potential, as it is exactly the reversal of Gen 3:22-24 that makes it eerily relevant. In Genesis the humans gain knowledge and free will which causes them to be exiled from Paradise. In Ezekiel 40-​48 this is reversed. The people who have erred because of their knowledge and free will, have these taken away and are forcibly returned to a refitted Paradise. With its surroundings faded, the people will now no longer be able to ever leave this place again. Looking at what bothered Ezekiel and how he conceived of a permanent spatial resolution to the ills of his society as he perceived them, the following becomes clear: 1. The fall of the Judean monarchy, the city and the temple was blamed on cultic infractions by the people and by their leadership, the religious elites included, as well as personified Jerusalem. 2. The transgressions mainly concern idolatrous acts and are described in terms of “whoring after other nations”—​whereby personified Jerusalem is especially graphically brought down as a foundling of uncertain parentage, a whore, and unfit to ever redeem herself (especially chs. 16 and 23). 3. These violations were the direct cause of the divine abandonment of place and people. 4. The location of the temple within this sinful, impure city created a zone of possible contamination of the holy precincts, which needed to be corrected. 5. The Judeans who were led into exile by the Babylonians were not the complete House of Israel, and Judah was not the complete Land of Israel. A true return to land and God could only be accomplished by the totality of God’s people in all of God’s Land (chs. 37, 48). 6. The land lay ravaged and the earth was contaminated by bloodshed and no longer provided for its population (ch. 36). In summary, Ezekiel had no other option than to propose a complete reversal of reality as his world no longer functioned properly. And, in fact, he does so himself in 37:15-​ 28, which almost functions as a preamble to the final two chapters. Thus, the people had to be changed, made compliant and complete again. Its enemies and tempters had to be vanquished, the leadership reassigned and replaced, the city purified and the temple, equally, purified but also relocated. Finally the earth had to be reconfigured so that it once more could supply its bounty. In order to accomplish this, he had to retrace a number of pivotal moments in the tradition. Understanding where wrong turns had been taken in the past could be applied to remedying the present and safeguarding the future. Ezekiel draws extensively on pentateuchal sources in order to find precedent for the abominations of his day and their consequences. He freely quotes, adapts, reverses, or alludes to these sources and by anchoring his solutions firmly within tradition he creates the authority to make his pronouncements.15 This authority is used then as a magic wand with which he makes unpleasant things disappear and desired things appear, rearranging reality in a remarkable act of textual wizardry.

Ezekiel’s Map of Future Past    477

3.  Urban Spaces First on the list of remapping is Ezekiel’s deep suspicion of all things urban. This is found in his treatment of Jerusalem, the notion of walled cities in a restored society, the status of the levitical cities in the new configuration, and the elaborate account of the demise of the city of Tyre (chs. 26, 27). It is clear that in his mind cities are sources of lewdness. Trade and commerce are occupations that lead to criminal behavior, and are, in general, sources for sin, as are politics.16 With the intense hatred that Ezekiel shows Jerusalem, it is only natural that its image looms large throughout the book as the quintessential representation of evil, occurring not less than 26 times. Building on the notion that the fall of the capital could only have been caused by the sins of the people (and by the city itself through the extreme uses of urban female personification) Ezekiel was intent on absolving God of any failing. In graphic terms Ezekiel accuses and condemns the city, and, as he has her verbally raped, he writes her straight into the ground. Jerusalem is called by her historic name only in these negative contexts.17 In the more positive, utopian and future oriented, descriptions the city is either nameless, or—​at the very end of the book (48:35)—​receives a new name—​The LORD is There [‫ש ּ ָמה ׳ה‬ ָ ׁ Yhwh šāmmāh]—​but there is a catch: no longer will 18 it house the Sanctuary. Yet, before we arrive at this last verse, much more is happening, and Ezekiel cleverly builds to the climax through a careful reshaping and reconstructive landscaping of the Land of Israel as God’s permanent domain.19 The renaming of Jerusalem reflects a heavenly reality on earth and no longer a national capital. It can only be a completely new purified and sanitized Jerusalem, but not a completely new construct, as nothing else would hammer the message home that everything has now been reconfigured in the image of Ezekiel’s God.20 In fact, it is not the only occasion in biblical texts where Jerusalem receives a different name.21 Note that the other cases of renaming concern a showcasing of the new or regained virtuous character of the city whereas in Ezekiel it is appropriated by God’s presence.22 However, in Ezekiel’s landscape, the city and the temple are separated by the area of the Levites.23 Whereas the other cases of renaming concern an elevation of the city’s status—​and it is always clear that it is Jerusalem itself that gains an additional honorific title; in the case of Ezekiel it is more like a leave taking of her former material self, including her name.24 Consistent with Ezekiel’s intense suspicion of all things urban, it should be noted that one of the remarkable feats of the newly reconfigured tribal lands is the absence of all other cities.25 This despite the fact that ch. 36 describes a landscape of renewed urban activity.26 A seeming inconsistency has been noted between those passages and the oracle against Gog of Magog. In 38:11 Gog is taunted by God thus: “You will say, ‘I will go up against a land of unwalled villages; I will go to a peaceful people, who dwell safely, all of them dwelling without walls, and having neither bars nor gates.’ ” This contrasts with 36:35, which, dealing with post-​exilic conditions, says “So they will say, ‘This land that was desolate has become like the garden of Eden; and the wasted, desolate, and ruined cities are now fortified and inhabited.’ ”

478   Carla Sulzbach The reference to “unwalled cities” in 38:11 is not inconsistent with the fact that 36:35 mentions “walled, fortified cities.” This is language put in the mouth of arrogant boasting Gog. It is to be understood that even if they may be walled, they are still so weak in Gog’s mind (which has become divinely befuddled), that they might as well not be walled. This could be read as a reversal of the perspective of the spies who came back to tell Moses that they would not be able to take out the inhabitants of the land as they “are powerful and the cities are fortified and very large” (Num. 13:28). Ezekiel 45:5 describes the living quarters of the Levites as ‫שכ ֹֽת‬ ָ ׁ ְ‫ עֶ ְׂש ִרים ל‬ˁeśərîm ləšāḵôṯ “twenty chambers,” rather than the ‫ָשבֶ ת‬ ָ ׁ ‫ עָ ִרים ל‬ˁārîm ləšāḇeṯ “towns to live in” of Num. 35:1-​8 and Josh 21, the original passages where the Levites receive 48 towns, dispersed throughout the other tribal territories instead of having their own contiguous area.27 Since Ezekiel’s phrasing according to the Masoretic text was deemed obscure by scholars who were informed by the Septuagint which uses the wording of Numbers and Joshua, Ezekiel’s re-​scription was rejected, perhaps as a scribal error. Instead it was emended to conform to the Septuagint (e.g., NRSV).28 Although widely followed, this emendation is unnecessary,29 due to the fact that Ezekiel writes all cities out of existence, as they constitute corrupting forces. And, in a typical Ezekielian twist, the Levites may have lost their towns (together with some of their status) but gained their own district (30)‫ אֲ חֻ זָּה‬in the vicinity of the Temple.31 Apart from other uses of the term ‫שכ ֹֽת‬ ָ ׁ ְ‫ל‬, note that in Ezek. 40:17 this term is used to indicate chambers in the Temple precinct to be used by the priests.

4.  Temple Space Much of Ezekiel’s program is informed by imagery from the period of the wilderness wanderings, prior to entering the land; all this clearly was part of his quest to find that precious moment in time before all went wrong. This is also clearly visible in the map in ­chapter 45. The layout of the holy area (45:1-​5) contains many elements from the description of the desert camp (‫ מַ חֲ נֶה‬maḥăneh) in Numbers 2–​3. As in the camp, the priests and the Levites flank the sanctuary, functioning as a buffer between it and the other tribes. At the same time the city—​reflecting the profane space where all tribal members can come together before continuing on their journey to the sanctuary—​also reflects this layout, but more as a mirror image. It is square, like the desert camp, and its gates are named after the twelve tribes, reflecting the formation according to which they were encamped in it.32 However its heart has been removed—​as indicative of Ezekiel’s own reality where the divine Presence had left the city of Jerusalem, leaving it to destruction. Now, precautions were to be put in place to prevent this from ever happening again. As the old city was blamed for the catastrophe of breaking the connection between heaven and earth and was considered beyond redemption, now the new city and the sanctuary are to be separated for all eternity.33 For this model, too, we can find precedent in the wilderness narrative. During Ezekiel’s visionary tour of Jerusalem and the Temple area in ­chapter 8, he is confronted with a catalogue of cultic violations perpetrated by those who were left behind in the city after the first exile to Babylonia, which included Ezekiel. I propose that

Ezekiel’s Map of Future Past    479 the sins listed in this passage (which reinforce the unredeemable status of Jerusalem) respond to the sin of the golden calf (Exod 32:1-​6) which was carried out during Moses’ stay on Mount Sinai.34 Up to that moment Moses’s ‫ א ֹהֶ ל מו ֹעֵ ד‬ˀōhel môˁeḏ, the tent where he would meet with God, stood in the middle of the camp, but that violation resulted in its removal from the camp to beyond the area of the Levites and priests (Exod 33:7-​10). This was not the tabernacle which would not be constructed until ­chapter 35 and then be moved back amidst the tribes. For Ezekiel this removal of the independent ˀōhel môˁeḏ provided a model for the separation of city and temple.35 In addition, in Exod 32:10 and Deut 9:20, Aaron is implicated as also being a guilty party in the episode of the golden calf, which could have provided Ezekiel with textual ammunition to reserve the temple service solely to the priests descended from Zadok, here considered to be a subgroup of the larger Aaronide group, which had preceded them in carrying out these tasks. Even though Ezekiel does not actually name them, non-​Zadokites (Aaronides) are clearly implied (44:15). Suffice it to state that the outspoken privileging of the Zadokite priests over all others in Ezekiel, point to a power struggle in which this one isolated group was victorious, leading to a clear demotion of the remnants of the various other priestly and levitical groups that had flourished before the exile. This is most clearly laid out in Ezek 44:10-​16 which enumerates in no uncertain terms the idolatrous misdeeds of the Levites who are contrasted with the “priests, the Levites, the sons of Zadok” who had remained loyal. Earlier on (22:26), in a stunning rebuke as part of an oracle against Jerusalem, Ezekiel calls them ָ‫ כּ ֹהֲ נֶיה‬kōhăneyhā “her (i.e., Jerusalem’s) priests” so as to distinguish them from the legitimate Zadokite priests. They are accused of taking away the boundary separating the holy from the profane, failing to teach the difference between clean and unclean, and desecrating the Sabbath—​ thereby profaning God himself. We now move from the human participants in Ezekiel’s world to the way he constructs its edifices and involves them in both his rebukes as well as in their renewal. I cautiously propose that Ezekiel, in using the obscure term ֹ ‫ ְּבחַ ְד ֵרי מַ ְׂש ִּכיתו‬bəḥaḏrê maśkîṯô36 to describe one category of abominations taking place in the temple, is consciously punning Exod 32:8, ‫ עֵ גֶל מַ ּ ֵסכָ ה‬ˁēḡel massēāh. There is biblical precedent where ‫ מַ ּ ֵסכָ ה‬is specifically used in a context of pagan cult and idolatry.37 Of special interest is Num. 33:52 which uses both terms: “then you shall drive out all the inhabitants of the land from before you, destroy all their engraved stones [‫ ּ ָכל־מַ ְׂש ִּכ ּיֹתָ ם‬kol-maśkiyyōṯām], destroy all their molded images [‫ ּ ָכל־צַלְמֵ י מַ ּ ֵסכ ֹתָ ם‬kol-ṣalmê massēḵōṯām], and demolish all their high places.”38 From here it is but a small step to move to the important reversal of the offensive wall depictions of pagan motifs in the sanctuary, described in 8:10-​12,39 where Ezekiel is shown how the leaders of Israel are worshipping the images of unclean animals and pagan idols to the legitimate ones in 41:18-​20, 25-​26.40 This reversal has so far not received the necessary attention.41 The motif of the palm tree flanked by two ‫ְּכרוּבִ ים‬ kərûḇîm (cherubim) facing each other in these passages is known from wall-​reliefs in Assyrian royal palaces.42 Although this very significant motif disappears later on and we lack Neo-​Babylonian evidence, this same design very likely influenced the description of the carved images on the walls of Solomon’s temple (I Kings 6:29, 32, 35; 7:36),43 which—​in turn—​gave rise to Ezekiel’s version in ­chapter 41. The overtones are clearly

480   Carla Sulzbach Edenic and fit well into Ezekiel’s return to Eden program. In addition, both passages use the same word for the tree [‫]ת ּמ ָֹרה‬. ִּ 44 It should be noted, however, that the floral designs that are so much part of the decorations in the Solomonic temple, are absent from Ezekiel’s temple. Notably absent from Ezekiel’s temple as well are the bronze Sea and the smaller basins with their elaborate animal, especially leonine, imagery. It is admittedly speculative; yet there may be an additional line of influence in Ezekiel’s depiction of unclean images (as in c­ hapter 8) and clean images (as in his temple vision). If indeed, he was among the elite of the first exiles, he may have been likewise privy to the learning of Babylonian culture and have resided at Babylon for some time or visited at some point.45 And just maybe, later on, have witnessed the spectacular Ishtar Gate (built around 575 BCE) and even the throne hall of Nebuchadnezzar’s fabulous palace. On all sides of the Processional Way leading up to the gate one could admire the fierce lions (symbol for Ishtar), the bull (symbol for Adad, the weather god), and last but not least, the fearsome hybrid snake-​dragon (the mušḫuššu dragon, symbol for Marduk) decorating the walls in a seemingly endless parade on either side in colorful glazed bricks.46 Above and below the images of these creatures were rows of repetitive floral patterns. Whereas representations of these images were well known all over the ancient Near East, here they were assembled in one pivotal place—​the center of Babylonia and the center of the whole earth. These were the glory days of Babylon and the victorious rule of Marduk. If indeed Ezekiel was confronted with such images, he might well have translated them into the unclean objects of covert worship of the remaining elders in the Jerusalem temple; offset by the clean images in his visionary temple. Interestingly, the repetitive images of giant palm trees as found on the wall of Nebuchadnezzar’s throne hall would not have been offensive to an observer like Ezekiel and the Edenic symbolism would have overridden any possible objections to its use.

4.1  Ezekiel’s Future Past Ezekiel’s new configuration displays a number of striking deviations from the established tradition. As noted, the city and the temple have been separated—​using the temporary model of Exodus 33 but now making that permanent. • The layout of the tribal territories does not follow Numbers 34 or Joshua. Instead of the random division,47 the tribes are now allocated portions that are lined up north-​south with the holy corridor somewhat in the middle. • The Levites have lost their cities but gained a district. • All the neighboring nations have been effectively erased by means of the oracles against them. • There are no provisions for a military or for commerce since all foreign enemies and trading partners (as well as the cities that are the base for commerce) have been erased and with them the causes for sin that they created. • With the elimination of the neighboring nations, the land of Israel now seems to be floating as in a thick fog, the surrounding world no longer relevant.

Ezekiel’s Map of Future Past    481 • The human king has been demoted to ‫ איִׂשָנ‬nāśîˀ, with no political power left to him. His tasks are mainly liturgical. • The royal palace and the sanctuary, traditionally adjoining, have also been separated as the former had become a source of defilement.48 • The former general non-​Zadokite priesthood has been pushed aside in favor of the Zadokites. • The inhabitants of this construct have been reconditioned. Their heart of stone has been replaced by a new heart of flesh and they received a new spirit (11:19, 36:26 and 18:31). In addition, God has purified them with water (36:25). Throughout the book, Ezekiel emphasized their inability to choose the right path on their own, so in order to whip them into submission, they have—​in a way—​been lobotomized49 with no free will left. But to what end? Nothing less than the end of time and the end of history. In his search for a perfect past to pass for a perfect future, Ezekiel first borrowed some elements from the period before the entrance into the Land, thus before Israel’s political and independent existence—​which failed so miserably. And even before this there is a succession of human failures. For this reason, he has no other option than to go back to the very beginning in order to find a model on which to fit his future vision, and that is Eden with the first humans. Only the timeless conditions that existed before Adam ate the fruit could be trusted to stay in place for eternity.

5.  Conclusions Now we can finally answer the question of where and when these conditions might be put in place. The order of the chapters provides the guide to Ezekiel’s projected cure from history. The first half of the book (chs. 1–​24) is largely devoted to establishing Ezekiel’s credentials as a bona fide prophet and his accusations against the Judeans and the city for having forced the divine presence into abandoning his possession, destroying it, and leading a remnant of the people into exile. The second block (chs. 25–​32) deals with the oracles against seven hostile neighboring nations. If not totally destroyed at the end of each oracle, their remnant will be reduced to insignificance and they will realize who is God.50 Note the nod to the seven nations already in the land that needed to be eradicated before Israel’s entry into the land would be possible (Deut 7:1-​3). There the people were commanded to carry out this gruesome task—​and they failed, much to their later detriment. Ezekiel rectifies this by having God take care of the removal of the last remaining obstacles by oracling them into oblivion. The next block (chs. 33–​37) is concerned with what amounts to a restoration vision which could in fact be implemented within historical time, with restored urban life in ­chapter 36.51 Yet, this is not good enough for Ezekiel because much danger still looms. in ­chapter 37 reparations to recondition the people have been made and the lost tribes have

482   Carla Sulzbach been recovered. But one enemy is still in place: the formidable Gog of Magog whose battle will be fought and won by Israel’s God in ­chapters 38–​39.52 Although there is wide disagreement concerning the identity of Gog/​Magog, logic would dictate that it must somehow be a cryptic reference to Babylon.53 After all, that was the reality for Ezekiel’s present and it would not make sense to put an end to all neighboring nations and leave Babylon intact and unpunished.54 However, this was something to save for the very end and, in fact, this war is portrayed as a battle of apocalyptic proportions taking place in a liminal space between the historical restoration and the eschatological reconfiguration of reality.55 Indeed, it is very fitting that Babylon, Israel’s last and greatest enemy, is vanquished while fighting under the protection of its own supreme god, Marduk, the greatest rival in the heavens of the God of Israel.56 This is a divine reckoning and may well explain why here Israel does not participate in the battle.57 This represents a final divine battle against the forces of chaos, in Ezekiel’s time personified through Babylonian culture and religion. This war should not be seen as a report of a historical event but rather as a final reckoning before the real entry into the purified and reconstituted Land can take place and forms thus a perfect bridge between an earthly historical restoration and a supernatural Edenic freezing into post-​historical a-​temporal permanence and a spatial nothingness. Thus, Ezekiel’s new reality is neither ‘here’ on earth, or ‘hereafter’ in a heavenly paradise. It has moved into a different dimension, free from all sources of defilement. The original inhabitants of Eden were meant to be immortal without displaying initiative, Eden being a holy place where God also freely wandered around. It thus became a source for symbolism used in the Jerusalem Temple and even for Jerusalem itself. It was only after the first humans were expelled from the Garden that linear time effectively became meaningful. So, what is happening in our last two chapters? The inhabitants of the land have been forced back in an Eden-​like environment, robbed of their faculties. They are reduced to pious automatons and merely resemble the angels who perform similar duties as they do in the heavenly sanctuary. Eden is not for mortals.58 Therefore, in Second Temple times Eden became the liminal place where the righteous go after death. However, Ezekiel’s new strange Eden is not a final destination for the righteous. They have not earned it. It is their fate and will be their prison.

Notes 1. This chapter is based on a paper presented at the Society of Biblical Literature Annual Meeting of 2013 in Baltimore. 2. There is a rich Babylonian tradition of incising city maps on clay tablets. Examples of maps of Babylon and Nippur have been preserved dating to between the 14th–​7th centuries BCE. See A.R. Millard, “Cartography in the Ancient Near East,” in The History of Cartography I, ed. by J.B. Harley and David Woodward (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987), 107–​116. Christoph Uehlinger places the Mesopotamian city plan tradition within the orbit of Ezekiel in his “ ‘Zeichne eine Stadt. . . und belagere sie!’ Bild und Wort in einer

Ezekiel’s Map of Future Past    483 Zeichenhandlung Ezechiels gegen Jerusalem (Ez 4f)”, in Jerusalem; Texte, Bilder, Steine, ed. by Max Küchler and Christoph Uehlinger (Freiburg, Schweiz: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1987): 141–​152. 3. The placement of the functioning temple within the restored land (ch. 48) forms the conclusion of chs 40–​47 describing Ezekiel’s visionary temple tour. Note that various suggestions circulate as to the character of this edifice, varying from an actual building program, to a vision of the heavenly temple, to a verbal icon which was never meant to be implemented. See e.g. John T. Strong, “Grounding Ezekiel’s Heavenly Ascent: A Defense of Ezek 40-​48 as a Program for Restoration,” Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 26 (2012): 192–​211; Paul M Joyce, “Ezekiel 40-​42: The Earliest ‘Heavenly Ascent’ Narrative?,” The Book of Ezekiel and Its Influence, ed. by Henk Jan de Jonge and Johannes Tromp (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007), 17–​41; Steven S. Tuell, “Ezekiel 40-​42 as a Verbal Icon,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 58 (1996): 649–​664. 4. Nathanael Warren, “Tenure and Grant in Ezekiel’s Paradise (47:13-​ 48:29),” Vetus Testamentum 63 (2013): 323–​334, while recognizing Ezekiel’s (re-​)creation of a Paradise, still sees its realization on earth in real time, with the Temple functioning as the pivot which guides the new society. 5. Starting with ch. 2, immediately following Ezekiel’s elaborately described vision of the divine chariot and his prophetic call. 6. Tova Ganzel, “Ezekiel’s Restoration Oracles: A Terminological Consideration,” Beit Mikra 58 (2013): 62–​74. 7. Baruch J. Schwartz, “Ezekiel’s Dim View of Israel’s Restoration,” in The Book of Ezekiel; Theological and Anthropological Perspectives, ed. by Margaret S. Odell and John T. Strong (SBL Symposium Series 9; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000), 43–​67 and ibid., “The Ultimate Aim of Israel’s Restoration in Ezekiel,” in Birkat Shalom; Studies in the Bible, Ancient Near Eastern Literature, and Postbiblical Judaism Presented to Shalom M. Paul on the Occasion of His Seventieth Birthday. Vol. I ed. by Chaim Cohen et al. (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2008), 305–​319. But for a less dim view, see Tova Ganzel, “The Descriptions of the Restoration of Israel in Ezekiel,” Vetus Testamentum 60 (2010): 197–​211. 8. Schwartz, “Dim View,” 63. 9. See also Ganzel, “The Purification of the People in Ezekiel: The Pentateuchal Background,” Beit Mikra 53 (2008): 47–​58. 10. Schwartz, “Dim View,” 60. 11. Schwartz further explains the relationship between Ezekiel’s pronouncements and the words he attributes to God as, “[i]‌t is, after all, the prophet’s personality that shapes his image of the divine personality. It seems reasonable to suggest that, for the guilty to be proven wrong, to acknowledge their guilt, and to be ashamed of themselves forever after was a psychological necessity for Ezekiel [italics in text], and as such it became, in his mind, a divine necessity as well.” “Ultimate Aim,” 318. 12. Paul M. Joyce, Ezekiel. A Commentary (Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 482; New York/​London: T&T Clark, 2007), 42, notes that “a distinctive feature of the book of Ezekiel is the extent to which it is arranged in a systematic and thematic fashion.” He continues this thought with, “It is in many ways the most orderly of the prophetic books—​ the contrast with the book of Jeremiah in this regard is particularly striking.” 13. Katheryn Pfisterer Darr, “The Wall around Paradise,” Vetus Testamentum 37 (1987): 271–​279. “On the contrary, the description of marvelous future conditions which we

484   Carla Sulzbach discover there is exclusive, rather than inclusive, of lands and peoples outside the land of Israel” (272). 14. Darr, 277. In that context we should also see Ezekiel’s re-​scripting of the life-​giving river. It stops short at the shores of the Dead Sea and only fertilizes the new Land of Israel. Darr dialogues with Walther Eichrodt’s take on the text (see his commentary [Old Testament Library; Philadephia: Westminster Press, 1970, 585]). She suggests that agreeing with his view “that return of paradise imagery is, by its very nature, universalistic; and if we further agree that use of such imagery demonstrates that the author(s) held such a universalistic perspective, then we must affirm that Ezek. xlvii 1-​12 seeks to convey a vision of what we moderns might term a ‘trans-​global’ transformation. We must conclude that the river flows on to effect a world-​wide return to Edenic conditions, despite the fact that the river's progress is traced no further than the banks of the Dead Sea, and in spite of the striking lack of evidence elsewhere in Ezekiel supporting so inclusive a definition of what, and whose land, will be the recipients of Yahweh's future salvific acts. In truth, however, we are ill-​advised to agree with Eichrodt at this point, for his presupposition that the use of return of paradise imagery necessarily includes affirmation of universal transformation is too arbitrary. On the contrary, groups championing different viewpoints within Israel could lay claim to the same mythic motif, which each group fashioned into a form that legitimated and sanctified its own aims and expectation.” 15. For function and results of this approach to other themes, see e.g. Dalit Rom-​Shiloni, “Facing Destruction and Exile: Inner-​Biblical Exegesis in Jeremiah and Ezekiel,” Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 117 (2005): 189–​205. 16. The perceived elevation of Samaria and Sodom (16:43-​58) is only in relation to the utter downfall of Jerusalem. 17. The mention in 36:38 may be ironic and in fact anticipates the final vision of cities like a sheep fold full of docile sheep. Leslie C. Allen (Ezekiel 20-​48. [WBO: Dallas: Word, 1990], 180) notes that this mention of the sacrificial cult reflects a positive memory of pre-​exilic Jerusalem. This is indeed unusual. But the image of the sacrificial sheep soon becomes a metaphor for the kind of society that is projected for Ezekiel’s post-​exilic vision, which in turn serves as a preamble for the kind of life in the eschatological Land. 18. See here, Soo J. Kim’s extensive study, “YHWH Shammah: The City as Gateway to the Presence of YHWH,” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 39 (2014): 187-​207, who considers this section from the perspective of cultic topography. See now also, Stephen L. Cook, Ezekiel 38-​48 (Anchor Bible 22B; New Haven: Yale University Press, 2018), see map on 129, and 296–​297. 19. In this connection Joh. Lust’s observations are of interest. He emphasizes the notion (especially regarding ch. 20) that Ezekiel proposes a new Exodus. The first one lead to the Land but hardly succeeded in building a “submissive nation under God.” This time however old wrongs would be righted, the experiment would not fail, the Land would truly answer to being the Promised Land, and the people as the people of God. J. Lust, “ ‘Gathering and Return’ in Jeremiah and Ezekiel,” Le Livre de Jérémie; le prophète et son milieu, les oracles et leur transmission, ed. by P.-​M. Bogaert (Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium 54; Leuven: Leuven University Press; Peeters, 1997) 137, 138. 20. Secondarily, the name change might be explained perhaps as a move away from the earthly reality described in ch. 16, where personified Jerusalem was blamed for having Amorite and Hittite ancestry. Would the prophet have known what we know now, namely, that the name Jerusalem certainly predates the Israelite occupancy or just anticipated it based on the fact that David conquered an existing city, which had a different name then?

Ezekiel’s Map of Future Past    485 A number of suggestions have been made to try and explain the new name, some looking for wordplay to do so. For example, it plays with the name Jerusalem itself, leaving some of the major consonants in place (but discarding a few others in the process). Others seek a hidden meaning in the directional shama with regard to where the divine actually is: in the city or in the temple (or both?). In line with the title accorded to Ezekiel in the book as being a maker of metaphors (21:5), perhaps we may look for meaning in the resemblance with shama and shamayim? 21. Ps 46:4-​5; 48.9; 87:3; Is. 1:26; 60:14; 62:1-​4; Jer. 3:17; 31:23-​24; 33:16; Zech. 8:3-​5; Lam. 2:15. 22. This may, in part, be reflective of the Deuteronomistic “name theology,” which designates the as yet unnamed holy place as the place where God will have his name dwell (Deut.12:11, 14:23, 16:2, 6, 11; 26:2). 23. The question emerges where God is to reside. Nancy Bowen (Ezekiel [AOTC; Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2010], 266) notes that with its “perfect square proportion, unlike defiled Jerusalem, this city is perfectly aligned with God”, the square thus representing divine perfection. 24. Rimon Kasher mentions Ezekiel’s radical disengagement with the historical Jerusalem very clearly. See his Yechezkel 25-​48 (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 2004) 934. 25. Also noted by Jon D. Levenson, Theology of the Program of Restoration of Ezekiel 40-​48 (Harvard Semitic Monographs 10; Missoula: Scholars Press, 1976) 121. 26. “I will multiply men upon you, all the house of Israel, all of it; and the towns shall be inhabited and the ruins rebuilt” (36:10). See also 36:38. The passage 36:23-​38 does not occur in the Old-​Greek pap. 967, possibly as the translator noted the same inconsistency. But is it in fact inconsistent? In lacking this passage Pap. 967 is quite alone among the early versions. The earlier witnesses from Masada and Qumran correspond to the MT in containing the verses. See Hector M. Patmore, “The Shorter and Longer Texts of Ezekiel: The Implications of the Manuscript Finds from Masada and Qumran,” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 32 (2007): 231–​242 (at 240–​242). But see some of the criticism in Ashley S, Crane, Israel’s Restoration: A Textual-​Comparative Exploration of Ezekiel 36-​39 (Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 122; Leiden: Brill, 2008) 216, fn 16. 27. Walther Zimmerli (Ezekiel 2 [Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1983], 466) simply dismisses the MT here as “meaningless.” 28. MT 45:5: “An area twenty-​five thousand cubits long and ten thousand wide shall belong to the Levites, the ministers of the temple; they shall have twenty chambers as a possession. There is precedent for the term ‫לשכות‬, used by Ezekiel. The term is also found in other passages: 1 Chron 9:2; 2 Chr. 31:11; Ezek. 40:17, 45; 42:1. 29. Kalinda Stevenson argues soundly why the Levites should no longer have their cities and why they could not have fitted in the new configuration but is ultimately unsure what the further implications are. See The Vision of Transformation: The Territorial Rhetoric of Ezekiel 40-​48 (SBLDS 154; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1996), 85. 30. This term may reflect its use in Lev 25:32, where it is used for “the possession of their cities”. 31. This is to be theirs in perpetuity and they cannot sell or exchange as it is the best part of the land and holy to the Lord (48:12-​14). 32. There is an Ezekielian rescripting however, as Rimon Kasher notes (934). Unlike the line-​ up at the camp, the gates include Joseph as one tribe and also Levi. He notes that rather than to the tribes, the gates refer to the twelve sons of Israel=​Jacob, rather than to the tribes, without providing a reason. The reason for this rescription, however, may be due to the fact that the city did not contain the sanctuary.

486   Carla Sulzbach 33. This drastic case of architectural amputation remains unique to Ezekiel. It is noteworthy that especially in some of the DSS in a reverse, inclusive, movement the holiness of the sanctuary actually comes to embrace and absorb the city, as in the Temple Scroll and the New Jerusalem Text; whereas in 4QMMT, the temple, the city and the camp are collapsed into one. 34. Henry McKeating, in “Ezekiel ‘the Prophet Like Moses’ ” (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 61 [1994]: 99) locates yet another case of borrowing from the golden calf periscope—​the slaughter of the Jerusalemites in ch. 9 which tallies with the slaughter by the Levites of their fellow Israelites (Ex. 32: 25-​29). 35. Incidentally, this part of the narrative is missing from the Deut. version of the golden calf episode, so it can only refer back to the Exodus version. 36. B.A. Levine, JPS Torah Commentary: Leviticus (New York: JPS, 1989), 181 writes: “Hebrew ‘even maskit is difficult to explain precisely. The term maskit occurs in Numbers 33:52, with reference to the pagan iconography of the Canaanites, which the Israelites are commanded to destroy. . . . . From Ezekiel 8:10-​12, we could conclude that, indeed the maskit involved drawn figures—​in that case, figures drawn on the walls of temple chambers. . . . Despite the uncertainty, clearly the intent of this verse is to forbid pagan cult objects of various sorts. Such are incompatible with the worship of the God of Israel” (The sin and samekh yield identical sounding words, which operate in a similar range of ideas). 37. Deut. 27:14-​15; Ju. 17:3; 18:14; Nah. 1:14, etc. 38. See also Jill Middlemas, “Transforming the Image,” in Transforming Visions; Transformations of Text, Tradition, and Theology in Ezekiel, ed. by William A. Tooman and Michael A. Lyons (Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications, 2010), 118. 39. 8:10—​“So I went in and saw, and there—​every sort of creeping thing, abominable beasts, and all the idols of the house of Israel, portrayed all around on the walls.”; 8:12—​“Then He said to me, “Son of man, have you seen what the elders of the house of Israel do in the dark, every man in the room of his idols?” Based on the insights of Margaret Odell it can be suggested that the offenses that are named in 8:10-​15 (which culminates in the vision of people bowing to the sun) are not to be understood as idolatry in the strictest sense, as the importation of foreign gods, but rather as a kind of replacement cult for the God of Israel who was seen as having departed both the temple and the people. She proposes that the images and behavior of the elders would thus not necessarily point to actual idol worship, but rather, what is lamented in 8:12 is that these are petitioned as intermediary forces in the absence of God. See her “Creeping Things and Singing Stones: the Iconography of Ezek 8:7-​13 in Light of Syro-​Palestinian Seals and The Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice,” in Images and Prophecy in the Ancient Eastern Mediterranean, ed. by Martti Nissinen and Charles E. Carter (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2009), 195-​210. Regardless, this is not how Ezekiel sees it. He does call it out clearly as an intrusion of wrong thinking and wrongdoing on the part of Israel’s leadership and the people. As Mark Smith writes in his “The Near Eastern Background of Solar Language for Yahweh.” Journal of Biblical Literature 109 (1990): 39 with regard to the perceived sun worship in monarchic Israel, “[t]‌he solar devotion may have constituted a form of solarized Yahwism, which appeared to the authors of Ezekiel 8 and 2 Kings 23 as an idolatrous solar cult incompatible with Yahweh.” 40. 41:20—​“From the floor to the space above the door, and on the wall of the sanctuary, cherubim and palm trees were carved.” 41. Unlike the reversal of the oracle against the mountains of ch. 6 into the restoration for the mountains in ch. 36.

Ezekiel’s Map of Future Past    487 42. See Barbara Nevling Porter, “The Meaning of the Assyrian Tree Image: Iconographic Evidence,” in Trees, Kings, and Politics: Studies in Assyrian Iconography (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2003), 21–​37; Pauline Albenda, “Ássyrian Sacred Trees in the Brooklyn Museum,” Iraq 56 (1994): 123–​133. 43. I Kings 6:29, 32, 35; 7:36. These, and the passages in Ezekiel are notably the only ones where the keruvim and palm trees appear together. Terje Stordalen, Echoes of Eden: Genesis 2-​3 and Symbolism of the Eden Garden in Biblical Hebrew Literature (Contributions to Biblical Exegesis and Theology 25; Louvain: Peeters, 2000), 459. Further, see Stephen L. Cook, Ezekiel 38-​48, 165–​168. 44. See Elizabeth Bloch-​Smith’s description of the decorations in the interior of Solomon’s temple, especially the motif of the sacred tree, as well as some of the correlations with Ezekiel’s temple. “Solomon’s Temple: The Politics of Ritual Space,” Sacred Time Sacred Space: Archaeology and the Religion of Israel. Barry M. Gittlen, ed. (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2002), 85–​88. 45. Jonathan Stökl, “A Youth Without Blemish, Handsome, Proficient in all Wisdom, Knowledgeable and Intelligent”: Ezekiel’s Access to Babylonian Culture,” Exile and Return: The Babylonian Context. Jonathan Stökl and Caroline Waerzeggers, ed. (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2015), 223–​252. 46. Chikako E. Watanabe, “The Symbolic Role of Animals in Babylon: A Contextual Approach to the Lion, the Bull and the Mušḫuššu. Iraq 77 (2015): 215–​224. 47. Num 33:54—​“ ‘And you shall divide the land by lot as an inheritance among your families; to the larger you shall give a larger inheritance, and to the smaller you shall give a smaller inheritance; there everyone’s inheritance shall be whatever falls to him by lot. You shall inherit according to the tribes of your fathers.” 48. Ezek. 43:7-​9. In fact, the territory of the nasi and the temple are separated from each other by a buffer zone of nearly four miles. See Bowen, Ezekiel, 256. 49. I use the image of lobotomy for Ezekiel’s proposed textual surgery upon the people as in the ancient Near East the heart constituted the seat of intellect, identity, emotion, and all that which made a human a human, including the capacity of free will. See e.g., Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament VII: 399-​437 (esp. 414-​434, ‫) ֵל‏ב‬. 50. See also Paul Raabe, “Transforming the International Status Quo: Ezekiel’s Oracles Against the Nations,” Transforming Visions, 187–​207. 51. The passage 36:23-​38 (which is seen as suspect by those who prioritize the Old Greek of Pap. 967 over the MT) offers in a bird’s-​eye view what might become a reality in 47-​48. It seems though that the reference to Eden in 36:35 is still conditional—​what is laid out is like the Garden of Eden and is not the same as what is seen in the latter chapters. It reads, “So they will say, ‘This land that was desolate has become like the garden of Eden; and the wasted, desolate, and ruined cities are now fortified and inhabited.’ ” This is as blissful a situation as can possibly arise under the canopy of time—​therefore post-​exilic but pre-​ eschatological. As long as linear time still applied and human initiative was not completely obliterated, danger would still exist from outside and inside. It is only after the final eschatological removal of the last enemy that a zone of no-​time can be entered and be made permanent. This is in contrast to Jon Levenson’s take on the Edenic stage of Ezekiel’s restoration program (Theology of the Program of Restoration, 33). He writes, “Unlike Zion, Eden has no historical association, such as an association with monarchy and the singling-​out of the Davidic family, with the possible exception of the connection with the land of the Exile . . . Eden, rather, is a pre-​social idea, one in which the individual is mankind, like

488   Carla Sulzbach Adam, one in which differentiation into nations and classes has no place. The Garden of Eden is an ideal of pre-​political existence, and redemption which ends in the Garden of Eden is deliverance from the tensions of political life. This deliverance is . . . effected . . . through the structures of history. It is a type of deliverance in which somehow the ideas of time and place are not obliterated.” In the following, Levenson points to the dilemma between the associations of history that the notion of the land, the city, and the temple carry and the perception of these in a condition dislodged from time while yet on earth—​ as if a choice needed to be made between a world-​to-​come and a world-​that-​is. I would argue that it could be both—​in an extra-​dimensional manner of speaking. Levenson sees these as concepts that are strictly bound up with history but overlooks that in their newly assigned places and functions, they transcend history and thus become de-​historicized. 52. Steven Tuell, seemingly unintended, provides an eminent argument of why Gog/​Magog might stand for Babylon. In his review of Jacob Milgrom and Daniel Bock’s Ezekiel’s Hope: A Commentary on Ezekiel 38–​48 (Eugene, Ore.: Cascade, 2012) [http://​www.book​revi​ ews.org/​pdf/​8832_​9​724.pdf] he writes: “In his discussion of the Gog apocalypse (38–​39), Milgrom does not mention the evidence from P 967 calling into question the placement of these chapters in the book of Ezekiel; indeed, he assumes that 38–​39 lead naturally and integrally into 40–​48 (43). While, as Milgrom notes (3–​6), 38–​39 certainly contain themes and organizational features typical of the book, these chapters cannot as they stand be the unified work of the sixth-​century prophet. For example, Gog and his hordes come ‘out of the remotest parts of the north’ (38:6, 15; 39:2). Prior to the exile the ‘enemy from the north’ referred to Assyria (Isa 14:25; Zeph 2:13) or Babylon (eighteen times in Jer [e.g., Jer 1:13–​ 16; 3:12,18; 6:1, 22–​25]; Ezek 9:2; 23:24), who attacked Israel from the north via the coastal plain. But in Ezek 38–​39 (cf. 38: 17), as in Joel 2:20 and Dan 11:6–​15, 40–​45, the ‘enemy from the north’ has become a trope for Israel’s ultimate foe”. 53. In fact, in emphasizing the identification of the city Hamonah, where the fallen of the battle against Gog are gathered, with Jerusalem in its most desperate state, a further argument has been provided to seeing Magog as a cipher for Babylon. If Hamonah (39:16) is indeed Jerusalem as a dead city, a death trap, the equivalent of Sheol, we can understand here the use of bor in Lamentations (2:20-​22; 3:6, 52-​53, 55), which is another name for Sheol, as such a description for Jerusalem. Only if it is the Babylonians who are cleansed away from the city and the battle field does the equation with Jerusalem make sense. See Margaret S. Odell, “The City of Hamonah in Ezekiel 39:11-​16: The Tumultuous City of Jerusalem,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 56 (1994): 479–​489. A completely different approach is to see the toponym Magog [‫ ]מגוג‬as a kind of atbash code for Babylon [‫ ]בבל‬where the order of the consonants is reversed and moved up one letter each in the alphabet. This along the lines of similar cyphers in Jeremiah 25 and 29). On the former, see Julius Böhmer, “Wer ist Gog von Magog?” Zeitschrift für Wissenschaftliche Theologie 40 (1897): 347–​350; on the latter specifically, Mark Leuchter, “Jeremiah’s 70-​Year Prophecy and the "Lev kamai"/​ "Sheshakh" Atbash Codes,” Biblica 85 (2004): 503–​522. 54. This is of course not the only problem with chs 38–​39, since the Old Greek in Pap 967 has a different order of chapters: 36–​38–​39–​37—​placing the resurrected bones right before the eschatological restoration and making the war of Gog part of regular history. 55. The wild animals feasting on the corpses, after these had been buried in order to purify the Land, may function as a spoof on Ps. 74:14 where Leviathan is served up to the wild animals. In later traditions the primordial monsters Leviathan and Behemoth, after having been vanquished by God, are served up to the righteous in messianic times (e.g.,

Ezekiel’s Map of Future Past    489 4 Ezra 6:52 and 2 Bar 29:4). Could this be an early pointer to the shift towards the edenic conditions in chs 40–​48? Just like the forces of Gog are fed to the birds of prey (unclean beasts), lest they get the honour of being consumed by either divine or human beings. It has been widely contended that the passages describing the burial of the corpses and the subsequent feasting on them are out of place. Francesca Stavrakopoulou, “Gog’s Grave and the Use and Abuse of Corpses in Ezekiel 39:11-​20,” makes a convincing case that this is not so (Journal of Biblical Literature 129 [2010]: 81–​82). 56. It would be very attractive (albeit very speculative at this time), if Gog could be understood as a pun on specifically the 16th name of Marduk from the Seventh Tablet of Enuma Elish: Agaku, the characteristics of which seem quite pertinent to the opponent of the God of Israel. This Sumerian title in turn sounds a lot like the Akkadian verb agagu, which means “fierce anger.” Combined with the pun on Gog, this would then yield Marduk of Babel! See on this CAD Ia. See on the relevance for Marduk and his many titles for the world of Ezekiel, Dale F. Launderville, Spirit and Reason: The Embodied Character of Ezekiel’s Symbolic Thinking (Waco, TX: Baylor Press, 2007), 357 ff. 57. In ch. 38–​39 God fights against Gog of Magog but is really combatting his heavenly arch-​ rival Marduk in a final showdown against Babylonia. So far, Babylonia had escaped the verdict of the other neighboring nations expressed in the oracles against them and the Babylonian king had been used as a tool to carry out those verdicts. But ultimately, Babylonia’s inevitable end was also signaled; now versed in the oracle against Gog of Magog. To emphasize the singular divine combatant role even further, Israel could not even muster an army as it had no human commander to lead them into battle. Later on in Ezekiel the role of the king as military commander is forever gone as he is demoted to nasi, a prince, or better yet, regent in this context, leaving God as the only king—​as it was meant to be from the beginning in Ezekiel’s future planning. See the apt comments in Casey Strine and Carly Crouch’s “YHWH’s Battle against Chaos in Ezekiel: The Transformation of Judahite Mythology for a New Situation,” Journal of Biblical Literature 132 (2013): 899–​902. 58. This condition could also be the explanation for the curious lack of social legislation in most of Ezekiel. In passing he may note social transgressions, but the main focus is always on cultic sins. In the last two chapters, as also noted by Bowen (Ezekiel; 259), the precepts concern the correct conduct of the divine service, rather than guiding the people on how to live together and how to behave. It is clear that the earlier reconditioning has brought them beyond those needs.

Bibliography Albenda, Pauline. “Ássyrian Sacred Trees in the Brooklyn Museum.” Iraq 56 (1994): 123–​133. Allen, Leslie C. Ezekiel 20-​48. Word Biblical Commentary. Dallas: Word, 1990. Bloch-​Smith, Elizabeth. “Solomon’s Temple: The Politics of Ritual Space,” In Sacred Time Sacred Space: Archaeology and the Religion of Israel. Edited by Barry M. Gittlen, 83–​94. Winona Lake, Indiana: Eisenbrauns, 2002. Bowen, Nancy. Ezekiel. Abingdon Old Testament Commentaries. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2010. Cook, Stephen L. Ezekiel 38-​48: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. Anchor Bible 22B. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2018.

490   Carla Sulzbach Crane, Ashley S. Israel’s Restoration: A Textual-​Comparative Exploration of Ezekiel 36-​39. Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 122. Leiden: Brill, 2008. Darr, Katheryn Pfisterer. “The Wall around Paradise,” Vetus Testamentum 37 (1987): 271–​279. Ganzel, Tova. “Ezekiel’s Restoration Oracles: A Terminological Consideration.” Beit Mikra 58 (2013): 62–​74. Ganzel, Tova. “The Descriptions of the Restoration of Israel in Ezekiel.” Vetus Testamentum 60 (2010): 197–​211. Ganzel, Tova. “The Purification of the People in Ezekiel: The Pentateuchal Background.” Beit Mikra 53 (2008): 47–​58. Joyce, Paul M. “Ezekiel 40-​42: The Earliest ‘Heavenly Ascent’ Narrative?” In The Book of Ezekiel and Its Influence. Edited by Henk Jan de Jonge and Johannes Tromp, 17–​41. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007. Joyce, Paul M. Ezekiel. A Commentary. Library of the Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 482. New York/​London: T&T Clark, 2007. Kasher, Rimon. Yechezkel 25-​48. Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 2004. Kim, Soo J. “YHWH Shammah: The City as Gateway to the Presence of YHWH.” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 39 (2014): 187–​207. Launderville, Dale F. Spirit and Reason: The Embodied Character of Ezekiel’s Symbolic Thinking. Waco, TX: Baylor Press, 2007. Levenson, Jon D. Theology of the Program of Restoration of Ezekiel 40-​48. Harvard Semitic Monographs 10. Missoula: Scholars Press, 1976. Levine, Baruch A. Leviticus: The Traditional Hebrew Text with the New JPS Translation. The JPS Torah Commentary. New York: Jewish Publication Society, 1989. Lust, Johann. “ ‘Gathering and Return’ in Jeremiah and Ezekiel.” In Le Livre de Jérémie; le prophète et son milieu, les oracles et leur transmission. Edited by P.-​M. Bogaert, 119–​142. Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium 54. Leuven: Leuven University Press; Peeters, 1997. McKeating, Henry. “Ezekiel ‘the Prophet Like Moses’?” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 61 (1994): 97–​109. Middlemas, Jill. “Transforming the Image.” In Transforming Visions; Transformations of Text, Tradition, and Theology in Ezekiel. Edited by William A. Tooman and Michael A. Lyons, 113–​ 138. Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications, 2010. Millard, A.R. “Cartography in the Ancient Near East.” In The History of Cartography I. Edited by J.B. Harley and David Woodward, 107–​116. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987. Odell, Margaret S. “The City of Hamonah in Ezekiel 39:11-​16: The Tumultuous City of Jerusalem.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 56 (1994): 479–​489. Patmore, Hector M. “The Shorter and Longer Texts of Ezekiel: The Implications of the Manuscript Finds from Masada and Qumran.” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 32 (2007): 231–​242. Porter, Barbara Nevling. Trees, Kings, and Politics: Studies in Assyrian Iconography. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2003. Raabe, Paul. “Transforming the International Status Quo: Ezekiel’s Oracles Against the Nations.” In Transforming Visions; Transformations of Text, Tradition, and Theology in Ezekiel. Edited by William A. Tooman and Michael A. Lyons, 187–​207. Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications, 2010. Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit. “Facing Destruction and Exile: Inner-​Biblical Exegesis in Jeremiah and Ezekiel.” Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 117 (2005): 189–​205.

Ezekiel’s Map of Future Past    491 Schwartz, Baruch J. “Ezekiel’s Dim View of Israel’s Restoration.” In The Book of Ezekiel; Theological and Anthropological Perspectives. Edited by Margaret S. Odell and John T. Strong, 43–​67. Society of Biblical Literature Symposium Series 9. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000. Schwartz, Baruch J. “The Ultimate Aim of Israel’s Restoration in Ezekiel.” In Birkat Shalom; Studies in the Bible, Ancient Near Eastern Literature, and Postbiblical Judaism Presented to Shalom M. Paul on the Occasion of His Seventieth Birthday. Vol. I. Edited by Chaim Cohen, et al., 305–​319. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2008. Stavrakopoulou, Francesca. “Gog’s Grave and the Use and Abuse of Corpses in Ezekiel 39:11-​ 20.” Journal of Biblical Literature 129 (2010): 67–​84. Stevenson, Kalinda. The Vision of Transformation: The Territorial Rhetoric of Ezekiel 40-​48. Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series 154. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1996. Stökl, Jonathan. “  ‘A Youth Without Blemish, Handsome, Proficient in all Wisdom, Knowledgeable and Intelligent’: Ezekiel’s Access to Babylonian Culture.” In Exile and Return: The Babylonian Context. Edited by Jonathan Stökl and Caroline Waerzeggers, 223–​ 252. Berlin: De Gruyter. Stordalen, Terje. Echoes of Eden: Genesis 2-​3 and Symbolism of the Eden Garden in Biblical Hebrew Literature. Contributions to Biblical Exegesis and Theology 25. Louvain: Peeters, 2000. Strong, John T. “Grounding Ezekiel’s Heavenly Ascent: A Defense of Ezek 40-​48 as a Program for Restoration.” Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 26 (2012): 192–​211. Tuell, Steven S. “Ezekiel 40-​42 as a Verbal Icon.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 58 (1996): 649–​664. Warren, Nathanael “Tenure and Grant in Ezekiel’s Paradise (47:13-​48:29).” Vetus Testamentum 63 (2013): 323–​334. Watanabe, Chikako E. “The Symbolic Role of Animals in Babylon: A Contextual Approach to the Lion, the Bull and the Mušḫuššu. Iraq 77 (2015): 215–​224. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezekiel 2: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel Chapters 25-​48. Hermenia. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1983.

Chapter 26

Ezekiel Im pe ria l i z e d G eo graphi e s i n t h e Nation Orac l e s Steed Vernyl Davidson

The dominance of geographic space within the book of Ezekiel suggests that geography should serve as an important factor in the interpretation of the book. This chapter’s concern lies with showing how geography operates in the book to invoke imperial constructions of space and imperializing control of space particularly within the foreign nation oracles. While this collection of oracles in Ezekiel deals with a smaller number of nations as compared with those in Amos, Isaiah, or Jeremiah, these oracles incorporate a vaster geographic range when the lists of place names in the Tyre and Egypt oracles are taken in account. I also include here lists of place names from the Gog oracles since several of the shared affinities between this oracle and the foreign nation oracles help me to make my point. These oracles reflect the use of imperial registers of conquest, control, and domination that are implicit and explicit in the maneuvers of imperial cartography. Maps functioned as an important tool of European imperial power to tie representations of spaces to the political, economic, and cultural control on the ground. In this chapter, I explore how these nation oracles in Ezekiel fit within these imperializing cartographic tendencies as a way of understanding the geographic thinking present within the book. I offer that not only is this geographic thinking imperial but that it bends decidedly westward with the ultimately end of Jerusalem as the location of an imperial center.

1.  Cartographic Thinking as Imperial Power The study of the oracles against the nations has long recognized some form of geographic thinking at work in these oracles. Comparisons between the oracles against

Ezekiel Imperialized Geographies in the Nation Oracles    493 foreign nations in prophetic texts and Egyptian execration texts (Hayes 1968, 81, Gottwald 1964, 112) though, produced the notion that a hidden geographical order exists in the collections. This view offered a limited opening for geographical thinking in relation to these oracles. Scholars such as Bowen (2010, 153) and Block (1998) detect particular geographical order in the Ezekiel oracles in sections like Ezek. 25 (Block, 1998, 5), 27:25 (Block, 1998, 81) and also in 38:5–​6 (Block, 1998, 441). The extent to which a geographical logic can be reconstructed for these oracles remains in doubt. Limiting the potential of geographical thinking in these oracles to a ritualized order of place names can miss the expansive options available in the textualized descriptions of geographical landscapes, particularly descriptions focused upon numerous place names. The oracles between c­ hapters 25–​32 contain several specific references to actual places names distributed as follows: eleven in ­chapter 25, at least thirty-​four in ­chapter 27, four in ­chapter 29, fifteen in ­chapter 30, and seven in ­chapter 32. These numbers do not include references to towns and cities without names, seacoasts, waterways like the Nile, and other physical structures like temples, walls, and natural features of the landscape. These details provide not simply evidence of the extensive knowledge of those behind the Ezekiel text about foreign literatures and cultures (Sweeney 2014, 130), “the commerce of the world in his day” (Eichrodt 1970, 387), but importantly some knowledge of the topography of Egypt and others parts of the world (Blenkinsopp 1990, 135; Greenberg 1997, 612). The geographic references that occur in these oracles and other parts of Ezekiel do more than merely drop place names into the ledger. These references show how landscape and human activity combine to grant strengths to some nations like Tyre, in the case of its economic supremacy (Ezek. 27:25–​27), and its military invulnerability against initial Babylonian attacks (Ezek. 29:18–​20). But even more, they show how the geographic landscape can be reconstituted with a new and superior religious, political, and military power. Deploying geographic landscape in this fashion with the intent of constructing meaning represents a form of cartographical thinking. Cartographical thinking serves as an early form of visual map making. Scott Fitzgerald Johnson describes cartographical thinking in relation to Late Antiquity as a mechanism that makes the world a symbolic container for all sorts of knowledge and in turn “the-​world-​as-​symbol” is represented in a particular literary form (2016, 1). Johnson examines several types of literature from Late Antiquity—​Christian pilgrim texts, letters, records, and land registers (35–​44)—​that use an archival1 practice of collecting data, particular geographic data, in an encyclopedic manner, this despite the early development of map making in this period as seen in the Peutinger Table (11) which provides a representation of the world. His research reveals that the literature with its geographic focus from this period functioned like maps as they undertake the same task as “the codification and interpretation of the world” (1). He argues that these texts reflect the intentional choices of their literary creators to communicate their view of the world where both form and content, as they relate to matters such as travel, geographic landscape, holy sites, and so on, intersect in the construction of meaning. Johnson discovers these features in literature from a different period than the oracles against foreign nations in Ezekiel. Nonetheless, his notion of cartographical thinking can be applied to

494   Steed Vernyl Davidson these oracles, and arguably the book of Ezekiel, as territorial location and spatial reorganization serve as important structuring and interpretive devices in the book. While no comprehensive global vision appears in these oracles as we would understand the globe today, the oracles provide a representation of what readers/​hearers should accept as a vision of the entire world. This vision shows a particular ordering of a number of nations along with an interpretation of those arrangements as necessary for security, economic (Ezek. 28:26), and demographic (such as cultural, religious, ethnic) purposes (Ezek. 39:25–​29), all of which together represents forms of cartographical thinking. The pivotal relationship between map making, geography as an academic discipline, and European colonialism of the 18th–​19th centuries serves as an underlying presumption from which this chapter views the oracles in Ezekiel. Geography used the map as a ready “specific digest” (Bell, Butlin, and Heffernan 1995, 4) of complex information necessary for the work of conquest and expansion (6). The relationship between geography and empire changes around the start of the early 20th century, as a means of shedding its reputation as one of “the essential midwives of European imperialism” (6). Maps supported the imperial project through their ability to represent ideals that Joanne Sharp sees as indicating “how colonial societies should be organised in an ideal world” (2009, 6). Maps as representations of these ideal worlds, though, did not exist as abstractions but emerged from the critical tasks of the geographer that involved “exploration, mapping, surveying, landscape reconnaissance, and spatial classification and planning” (Clayton 2004, 454). These on-​the-​ground activities were complemented by other tasks to produce the maps that resulted in what Daniel Clayton views as “draw[ing] geographical order out of chaos” (455). As finished products, maps communicate a distorted reality (Dunlop 2011, 28) at worst or at best a fantasy or dream (Punter 2000, 44), or even an “imaginative geography” (Said 1979, 55). Even in its best form, imagined geographies, as Said describes them, flow from a mind ordering the world based upon discrimination (54) since they “legitimate a vocabulary, a universe of representative discourse peculiar to the discussion and understanding” (71) of other peoples and places. Maps are inherently mechanisms of power. Their “reduction of landscape to poetic symbol” (Dunlop 2011, 33) and communication of seemingly objective knowledge belies the fact that they cannot provide an omniscient view2 and by pretending to possess such powers convey the limited vision of a singular source compromised by its ethnocentric outlook. Maps as visions of spatial arrangements provide both a rough guide to what exists as well as what is possible through the control of landscape. Their usefulness in the will to power consists in “the ‘disciplining’ and ‘disseminating’ of imperial knowledges . . . playing a pivotal role of visual control and serving to both mirror and reinforce political, economic, and cultural hegemony” (Morrissey 2013, 496). Maps rise to the level of the imperial registers when as “performative acts . . . spatial activity incorporated into the creation and communication of individual and group identity” (Cosgrove 2005, 32) they codify the landscape from a single space of supreme power that exerts its influence of all types—​economic, cultural, religious, racial/​ethnic, political, and so on—​upon all other spaces. While not every map possesses imperializing ambitions, all maps potentially facilitate a form of control over territory whether real or imagined.

Ezekiel Imperialized Geographies in the Nation Oracles    495 Postcolonial geography interrogates the relationship between “geographical knowledge and colonial power” (Ryan 2004, 473). Colonial knowledge and power produces certain presumptions of reality as shaped by global sovereign power (Sidaway 2002, 27) as well as the idea of the existence of nations as communicated through knowledge of space and borders (Dunlop 2011, 33). These issues form some of the core concerns of postcolonial geography through its engagement with texts from a material rather than simply textual or abstract terrains (Blunt and McEwan 2002, 6). In this regard, postcolonial geography accepts that texts act as mechanisms of power to engage contentions over territory. As Said offers, “none of us is outside or beyond geography, none of us is completely free from the struggle over geography” (1993, 7). Therefore, geographic thinking in texts does not merely indicate innocent references to landscape and territory. When the landscape and territory in the texts come with the layers of meaning and interpretation that provide a symbolic representation of dominant power, this level of cartographical thinking touches upon imperial registers of control and domination.

2.  Cartographical Thinking and The Imperial Registers in the Ezekiel Oracles In this section, I explore the oracles in Ezekiel to illustrate how they make use of cartographical thinking and deploy this line of thought using imperial registers. I consider the Gog oracles as part of the oracles against foreign nations in Ezekiel. While the various date formulae provide an attractive place upon which to argue the unity of the collection of oracles, the internal inconsistency in the date references within the collection betrays a level of selective editing that can indicate the dates may be serving another purpose. In addition, the absence of dates in the Mount Seir and Gog oracles only indicates that they fall outside of the particular rhetorical goals for those specific oracles and not necessarily that they should not be read in the same way as the other oracles. Similarly, the various sevenfold patterns that can be deduced in the main collection of oracles does not exclude other oracles from consideration but simply draws attention to the organization of those particular oracles. The exclusion of the Gog oracles from consideration on the grounds that they are separated from the main collection by a few chapters makes assumptions that the book is compiled into a tightly ordered structure or that a clearly defined form that characterizes these oracles exist. Discussions around the secondary nature of the main collections do not always acknowledge the collection as fluid and tend to see them as a static whole (Strong 2010, 483). The collection itself contains variability between the shorter oracles of c­ hapter 25 and the more elaborate oracles against Tyre and Egypt. Arguably, the lament form of ­chapters 27 and 32 begs the question as to whether they should be included in this genre. Several key features of the Gog oracles and the oracle against Mount Seir (ch. 35, Block 1998, 3) connect them with the larger

496   Steed Vernyl Davidson collection in ­chapters 25–​32, among these are the use of the phrases “I am against you” and “set your face” (Joyce 2007, 214), the provision of some form of rationale for destruction (Ezek. 35:5), and the obvious similarities in the content of the oracles. Textual, if not literary, links and the use of a hooking device from the main collection to the Gog oracle as Corrine Carvalho suggests serve as other compelling arguments for the inclusion of the Gog oracles among the oracles against foreign nations (2015, 113). The difficulties of establishing both the genre and the exact extent of the collection in Ezekiel notwithstanding, the inclusion of the Gog oracles provides opportunities to illustrate the functions of cartographical thinking and the imperial registers in the book of Ezekiel in general. The space from which the book of Ezekiel exercises its vision of the world remains implicit for most of the book, at least from the perspective of a modern reader. While the book locates the prophet in Babylonia among the deportees (1:1), the ability to traverse space between Jerusalem and Babylonia leaves in doubt whether Babylon as a geographical location functions as the deiXis—​the place of enunciation from which the world is seen (West-​Pavlov 2010, 2). In West-​Pavlov’s thinking while that place may be fictive and serve as the space from which to construct similar fictions about the world, a connection exists between that place and the fictions that emanate from it. Understanding that the place of enunciation from which the book of Ezekiel takes place can be Babylonia not only provides a geographic point of orientation but as West-​Pavlov offers, this locale points us to the relationship between language and physical space (3). The relationship that he describes involves an intersection between the fictions of space and the spaces of fictions that leads to his neologism of deiXis. In this crossing, texts can denote the spaces from which the world is represented in a literature and at the same time how those representations in turn shape and transform the text. At this point, it is sufficient to indicate that the oracles reflect both the imperial site of Babylonia as well as the imperial vision of Babylon as their site of enunciation. Although positioned among a group of deportees in Babylonia, the vision of the oracles hardly reflects the spaces of displacement where negotiations for place takes precedence (Bammer 1994, xii). Instead the oracles speak from positions where the exercise of military power and processes of subjugation appear normative. From this site of enunciation comes the intricate knowledge of these other territories and peoples—​the names of their cities (Rabbah [25:5]; Beth-​ jeshimoth, Baal-​meon, and Kiriathaim [25:9]), the boundaries of their nations (from Migdol to Syene [29:10]), their mineral wealth ([28:13]), their trading partners ([27:12–​ 25]), and so on. While the divine contours of the oracles can account for the level of efficacy and certainty they express, the impact of the transterritorial imagining of knowledge and the link between that knowledge and the assertion of military power from a single source touches upon imperial registers. In other words, the oracles reflect an imperial vision of the world supported by the type of data that sustains the will to power. The oracles produce a cartographical vision that links territory to people groups in ways intended to demarcate “them” from “us.” The physical movement implied in the ָ ‫( ִשׂ ֥ים פָּ ֶנ‬NRSV “set your face”) better translated as “dicommands given to Ezekiel, ‫֖יך‬ rect your face” captures the sense of a physical facing of the subject under consideration

Ezekiel Imperialized Geographies in the Nation Oracles    497 whether in an actual or symbolic sense (Greenberg 1983, 104, 130; Block 1997, 34–​5, 221). This command appears at the start of five of the nine oracles (if the oracle against Mount Seir and Gog are included in the main collection but is missing in the oracles against Moab, Edom, the Philistines, and Tyre). This command suggests a clear separation between the place of enunciation and these other locations. This imperative is not unique to the oracles against foreign nations; it also appears in the narrative of the symbolic action of the siege of the model city that Ezekiel is commanded to build (ch. 4). In that case the verb ‫( כון‬4:3, 7) is used rather than ‫ שׂים‬which occurs in all other instances in the book. Noticeably the command can be seen in relation to the geographical areas of Judah/​Israel (6:2; 20:46; 21:2) as well as a specific group and their practices within Jerusalem (“the daughters of your people” 13:17); the personification of these geographical locations with their moral and other deficiencies set them apart as outside of the space of enunciation both physically and ethically. The oracles achieve this demarcation on one level through the depiction of the words and actions of the respective nations. These nations either speak in opposition to Judah/​Israel (Ammon and Tyre speak judicious joy over the temple [25:3] and the land respectively [26:2] and Moab denies the uniqueness of Judah [25:8]) or act contrary to the interests of Judah/​Israel (Edom and Philistia acted vengefully against Judah [25:12, 15]). These personified nations identified as enemies are then territorialized in the oracles as the next stage of the cartographical thinking employed by the oracles. As indicated above, the oracles provide an encyclopedic list of place names, border limits, and other landscape features to situate these nations in their own geographical space but ultimately as outside of the physical space of Judah/​Israel. Since the notion of national borders does not exist in the ancient world, the texts of these oracles provide an imaginative geography of territoriality that communicates both spatial arrangement and ultimately spatial order. At the outset, the oracles imply the breach of the spatial arrangement through the personification of the other nation either speaking or acting in ways that encroach upon Judah/​Israel. The required divine response to these breaches restores the spatial order out of chaos created by the words and actions of these nations. In the end, the oracles provide the reassurance that the imaginary lines between “us” and “them” remain intact. The cartographical thinking that these oracles communicate rests upon principles of geography employed by empire builders. Maps enable a semblance of order to be drawn out of the chaos of geographical data of a world “out there” brought into being and proximity by imperial adventures and travel (Clayton 2004, 455). The consequent anxieties that come with such proximity can be mitigated by the orderly representations of maps. As the objects of knowledge on a map, other nations under the sway of the empire appear harmless since the map has the effect of exaggerating “the power of [imperial] representations of foreign lands and peoples” (Clayton, 2004, 458). That maps and, in the case of the oracles in Ezekiel, cartographical thinking represent a form of discourse that works with imperial registers relies heavily upon the ability to represent territory—​whether visually or textually—​along with the capacity to control that territory. The oracles in Ezekiel present a view of the world of territorial space populated by named peoples who are decidedly outside of the site of enunciation—​Ammonites

498   Steed Vernyl Davidson (Ezek. 25:2), Assyria (32:22), Elam (32:24), Meshech-​Tubal (32:26), Edom (32:29), and the Sidonians (32:30). These territories are either destroyed (25:7), made uninhabitable (25:13, 16b), incorporated into other nations (25:10, 16a; 29:19–​20), or reterritorialized into Sheol (26:19–​21; 31:15–​17; 32:20–​30). Along with these territorial transformations, these oracles narrate a systematic aggression upon the nations listed by an onslaught of divine power (e.g., Ezek. 25:13, 16) and in some cases divine use of Babylonian military might (Ezek. 26:7; 30:24–​25) as the means to subdue the territory and remake it into something that conforms to a semblance of order and control. The spatial rearrangements that the oracles present symbolize the necessity of a global moral order that spreads its influence and benefits to other parts of the world. While the oracles offer several justifications for the divine aggression, the supposed failures of the people are never proven and they reflect the internal moral perspective of the space of enunciation. Whatever moral virtues the oracles presume need to be spread to other territories, these are neither objective nor widely accepted values. The predominance of the recognition formula in all of the oracles as the ultimate outcome of the spatial interventions of divine power and organization highlights the narrow application of a singular vision by which the entire world, as depicted in the book, will be shaped. Given that the oracles do not reflect the unmediated voice of these nations and their leaders, the text, as is the case of maps, serves as the only basis upon which to judge the rightness of the vision of the world and its interpretation. This generation of cartographical thinking, coming as it does with clear absences of imperial presence writ large or even specific and native resistance within these oracles (Said 1990, 94), suggests that geography serves political interests in the form of imperial domination. Just like maps that hardly represent the imperial presence, cartographical thinking as expressed in texts omits this presence. While the oracles foreground the divine voice, this voice appears as an objective presence disconnected from the imperial interests and therefore the disembodied nature of the divine voice has the effect of reducing traces of imperial presence in the oracles. Certainly, the broad context of the book of Ezekiel provides the rationale for the nature of territorial domination that occurs in these oracles, suggesting that this spatial arrangement and rearrangement will benefit and improve these nations, to the extent that the recognition formula can be read as having a salutary impact upon these nations. Only one instance of restoration of a foreign nation appears in the Ezekiel oracles (29:13–​16 compare with Jer. 46:26; 48:47; 49:6, 39 and Isa. 19:18–​24; 23:17–​18). While Egypt will be reconstituted as a people in its territory, it would be substantially diminished in power in order to disrupt its potential as a future military ally for Judah/​ Israel. Along with the gesture of the application of an unstated standard by which these nations are punished for their supposed offenses (e.g., Ezek. 25:3, 6, 8, 12, 15; see Barton 2003, 113), the representation that these nations in the end will either change their actions or be destroyed, invites consent for this vision of what the world should look like. The cartographical thinking within the oracles enables the acceptance of imperial power exercised through the domination of others in distant places as a suitable form of rule (Said 1993, 10).

Ezekiel Imperialized Geographies in the Nation Oracles    499 The binary of domestic security and global instability fuels the cartographical thinking in the oracles. With the line between “them” and “us” drawn, the oracles describe the actions necessary to maintain and contain the danger from the outside. Therefore, the understanding that judgment upon the nations results in peace for Israel/​Judah makes sense and is in fact explicitly mentioned in Ezekiel 28:24–​26. Arguably, this salvation oracle should be viewed as a unit by itself (contra Greenberg 1997, 596; Blenkinsopp 1990, 125). This positive oracle trades upon cartographical thinking as its concern points to geography and in particular the intersection of territory with military and economic security. The language of these verses calls attention to geography. Although a common reference not intending a physical structure, the use of ‫ִשׂ ָראֵ ֗ל‬ ְ ‫“( בֵ ֣ית י‬the house of Israel”) in 28:24 along with the physical threats of hostility conveyed by ‫ִס ֤לּו ֹן מַ ְמ ִאיר ֙וְ ק֣ו ֹץ מַ כְ ִ ֔אב‬ (“pricking brier or a piercing thorn”) suggests the creation of geographical space free from external menaces. The visual force of ‫( סְ בִ ֣יב ָֹ֔תם‬NRSV “their neighbors” but better seen here as “vicinity” both proximate and distant) fills out the description of the new geography that guarantees territorial security free from surrounding nations that could do it harm. In this reterritorialized space, then, promises of economic security that draw upon ancient commitments at the settlement of the land can now be fulfilled. The gifts of sedentary life marked by exploitation of the land’s agricultural potential (28:26) can be achieved as a result of this particular organization of the world. In this regard, the oracles reflect the imperialized registers of shaping a world to its military, economic, cultural, and moral benefits. These oracles, however, make no pretense that the force at work in the world will also bring good to other parts of the world. Instead, these oracles reflect a narrowly ethnocentric vision that reveals “the beneficial effects on Israel of their God’s control of international affairs” (Blenkinsopp 1990, 125). The extensive knowledge of geographical locations and the way in which the land is used forms another feature of cartographical thinking. This aspect of cartographical thinking results from the archiving of data regarding specific places as the basis upon which to develop meaning about the world to shape a particular view of the world (Johnson 2016, 15). The oracles participate in this feature of cartographical thinking in two main ways: the extensive list of Tyre’s trading partners along with their commercial activities and the list of Egypt’s political and military allies. The lists that appear within these two specific oracles significantly broaden the geographical scope of the Ezekiel collection of oracles. From the perspective of the oracles, the fate of these other nations are the same as those addressed at the start of each oracle and therefore they must not be seen as simply collateral damage but part of the intentional cartographical thinking of the oracles. Tyre’s and Egypt’s network of alliances and partners invoke their extensive geographical reach and the lists together with the core image used for each nation (Tyre as a ship [27:3] and Egypt as a dragon in the sea [32:2]) builds out the visual in the text of connected systems of trade, commerce, military sharing, and communications with limitless and unimpeded possibilities. The text cultivates these imaginary lines and in the process sets Tyre and Egypt apart in the world’s cartography as radically different than the other mentioned nations. In other words, both Tyre and Egypt are constructed

500   Steed Vernyl Davidson as empires and in particular rival empires. Tyre’s boast of marine dominance (28:2) and Egypt’s assertion of royal control of the nations (32:2) are specifically cited as reasons for their destruction. In this regard, Tyre and Egypt form the perfect complement to visualize the threat/​potential of control of sea and land resources. The elimination of Tyre and Egypt therefore produces a new geography that realigns the world in the favor of a single empire with access to untold resources. Linking geography and use of territory as the basis for constructing meaning of the world and thereby making the case for reordering of the world enables the oracles to construct Tyre as a marine creature with several tentacles. The oracles construct the economic power of Tyre through the central motif of its geographical location and from there they show how its site as an island grants it unique access and power in the world (Kinukawa 2015, 139). The initial step lies in placing Tyre on a map by describing its physical location as an island and its relation to the sea. The islandscape of bare rock (26:4), coastlands (26:15), the entrance of the sea (27:3), borders in the heart of the seas (27:4), the depths of the waters (27:34), and so on paints Tyre’s “liquid existence” (Davidson, Aymer, Havea 2015, 7). Yet at the same time, the oracle recognizes Tyre’s capacity to extend its reach even further than its land capacity. As an island it possesses a transspatial capacity that opens it further to the world (Olwig 2007, 261), a strength the oracle acknowledges that enables Tyre to amass great wealth, influence, and power (26:12, 17; 27:33; 28:5; 29:17–​20). These physical attributes are complemented by the economic activity that shapes Tyre’s place in the world. The oracle goes to great length to represent these in the text through its cartographical depiction of maritime trade. The “liquid highways” (Davidson, Aymer, Havea 2015, 9) of Tyre’s trade are drawn in the form of the metaphoric ship of Tyre composed of material from six different nations (27:5–​7), with an international crew of at least five mentioned nations (27:8–​9) later extended with the parallel phrase “all the ships of the sea with their mariners were within you” (27:9b). The ship also housed an army with soldiers from six other nations (27:10–​11). Having depicted the military power of Tyre to control the seas, the oracle next describes the extensive trade conducted by Tyre with a detailed list of nations and the items of commerce. The list of trading partners includes at least twenty place names. This does not include a further possible list of other islands covered in the general phrase “many coastlands were your own special markets” (27:15). Also not included is a possible intermediary trade such as wheat from Minnith (27:17). The catalogue of goods involved in this maritime trade forms an equally impressive list (27:12–​25). Items consist of about nine different types of minerals, around twenty different forms of processed goods, and six different types of livestock, as well as human trafficking. The three different layers of knowledge about Tyre build out the intense network of relations that forms Tyre as a territory. Several meanings lie embedded in this cartographical thinking about Tyre, but the fact that the oracle only pays attention to the grief of the nations over the destruction of Tyre 27:26–​36) and never reveals what takes the place of Tyre in the global trade network or at least how trade continues without this crucial gear in the machinery suggests that the elimination of Tyre as a power proves propitious for the place of enunciation of this

Ezekiel Imperialized Geographies in the Nation Oracles    501 vision. Tyre’s place as an island that achieved influence in excess of the reach of its land space finds its modern correlate in the British Empire that grows out of an island nation that derived much of its strength from its reach into maritime space. Jon Heggulund quotes Halford Mackinder that British imperial power resulted from its ability to exploit spaces “at once bounded and extended by the sea” (2012, 112, emphasis in the original). The description of Tyre as imperial power recognizes its supremacy over trade as problematic and therefore the need to curb this power. As Britain challenged the Spanish Armada by any means necessary to take command of maritime trade routes on the way to expanding its empire, the vision of the collapse of Tyre with only an implication of the power that will fill the vacuum created by its absence raises the discourse of this oracle to imperial rivalry. Rather than simply a case of making the world better by removing Tyre’s dominance, the oracle implicitly offers a redrawn map from the perspective of the place of enunciation. In redrawing the map to exclude Tyre, the oracle pushes the cartographical thinking of the text as the means of normalizing the new use of space advocated by the collective vision of the oracles. As Richard Phillips indicates, geographic space serves as more than simply “a backdrop against which . . . historical processes unfold” but also as “an imaginative realm and a real world” (2006, 6). The cartographical thinking expressed in the Egypt oracle maintains the same level of display of knowledge about Egypt while portraying Egypt as a distinctively different geographic space than Tyre. Unlike the Tyre oracle that focuses exclusively upon the nation, the Egyptian oracle forms around the Pharaoh as the target of the judgment. Despite this, the oracle achieves a sustained attention to the geographic space of Egypt from the outset offering key landscape descriptors of Egypt. Specific landscape elements are used to define the geographic space—​the Nile and its tributaries (29:3–​5), the desert (29:5 ‫)הַ ִמּ ְדבָּ ָ֗רה‬, and its boundaries from Migdol to Syene (29:10; 30:6). Additional details are filled in with specific place names—​Pathros, Zoan, Memphis, Thebes, Pelusium, On, Pibeseth, Tehaphnehes, and so on. This extensive geographical data is complemented with a level of intimate knowledge of these places: Memphis as cult location (30:13), Pelusium as a fortress (30:15), and On with its high concentration of young men (30:17). Egypt as geographic space serves as the Pharaoh’s living space and through the portrait of the Pharaoh the oracle should offer the visualization of the use of space in Egypt. Yet the oracle only reveals the role that fishing in the Nile and its channels as a food source (29:4–​5) plays in Egypt. This portrait offers a limited view of human activity within the geographic space. In fact, the essential claim the oracle makes rests upon denying the Pharaoh any entitlement to Egypt with its double contentions of the Pharaoh’s boastful assertion of ownership of the Nile (29:3, 9). The oracle pushes this idea of the Pharaoh’s weakness even further through its conflation of aspects of the Egyptian landscape with the Pharaoh’s strength. Likening the Pharaoh’s ability to sustain the populace to the feebleness of reeds (29:6–​7) on the one hand, the oracle proceeds on the other hand to use the image of the broken arm of the Pharaoh as the indicator of the Babylonian takeover of the land (30:21–​26). The cosmic tree oracle of ­chapter 31 provides a lengthy conflation of the Pharaoh and the Egyptian landscape. The oracle makes no explicit claims of the tree’s rootedness in

502   Steed Vernyl Davidson Egypt or any other specific place (Zimmerli 1983, 147). Yet the vivid descriptions of the tree’s physical attributes and settings may suggest the Egyptian landscape, and given that the point of the oracle goes beyond finding a “suitable figurative comparison” with specific trees (Zimmerli 1983, 148), the tree can be understood as part of Egypt’s scenery. In this regard, the oracle offers a vivid depiction of the water sources of Egypt and their ability to sustain tall tree growth and the attendant ecosystems (31:3–​9). Despite the mix of metaphor and mythology in these verses as well as others in the chapter, the fate of Egypt appears unmistakably clear in the end: Egypt as a tree will be brought down to Sheol (31:18). Layering nation, leader, and landscape in images that layer reality and mythology enables the oracle to paint geography in vivid tones filled in with theological meanings that justify the spatial arrangements and rearrangements advocated in the text. Further evidence of these blurred lines appears in the oracle’s equation of Egypt’s territory with that of Eden (28:13–​14; 31:9), where Egypt possesses all of the mineral wealth, beauty, and privileges of Eden but in an act of reterritorialization, Egypt transformed itself into its present physical state. The failed land management undertaken by Egypt requires that now another makeover of the land is in order as advocated by the oracle. Imperial geographic logic uses Eden as a touchstone for their interventions into foreign lands justifying those interventions as necessary to preserve pristine environments or to return depleted environments to their original state. For instance, Carolyn Merchant shows how New England settlers produced almanacs with several narratives from Genesis to support the social arrangements of the colonies particularly as these relate to gender (1989, 168). Such narratives work with “the pristine myth” (Sluyter 2002, 6) in search of a primordial period and therefore confer upon imperial power the ability to restore the land to this state. The oracle trades upon these mythological associations as the means to point back to a form of original bliss that can be recovered through the geographic ordering suggested in the collection. This act of imperial geographic reordering involves the remake of Egypt to restore it to its mythical innocence. In one instance, where the oracle appears to continue with mythological associations against Egypt it instead goes in the opposite direction with an image that captures the realism of the Egyptian physical setting. Denying the Pharaoh’s metaphoric choice of a lion and instead handing him the symbol of the crocodile in the Nile, the oracle depicts the fate of this captured and subdued crocodile in the river to reflect the fate of the nation (32:2–​10). Following Zimmerli (1983, 106 footnote d) the unique orthography of ‫ תַּ ִנּ ֣ים‬in 29:3 and 32:2 sets this word apart from the mythological associations normally seen with ‫“( ּ ַת ִנּין‬dragon”). As such rather than a mythological monster the oracle points to the river animal typical of the Egyptian fauna. The shift between lion and crocodile occurs also in the drastic reduction of the scope of the Pharaoh’s claim from its global proportions (‫“ כְּ פִ ֥יר גּו ֹ ִי ֖ם‬lion among the nations” [32:2]) to the more localized geography of Egyptian ָ ֶ‫ בְּ נַהֲ רו ֹת‬and ‫“ נַהֲ רו ֹתָ ֽם‬your streams” [32:2]). While the translation of ‫ בַּ יּ ִַ֔מּים‬as waters (‫֗יך‬ “in the seas” as a global concept of mythological proportions can be supported from the perspective of the parallelism with ‫“( גּו ֹ ִי ֖ם‬the nations”), the remaining cola of the verse also requires seeing the scene within which the animal thrashes about as located within the geographical limits of the streams of Egypt. This limitation not only ridicules the

Ezekiel Imperialized Geographies in the Nation Oracles    503 global pretentions of the Pharaoh but serves as well to keep the focus upon the geography of Egypt. This display of power over the fierce crocodile has the effect of showing the divine capacity to subdue and to tame the wild land of Egypt. The discipline of geography was seen as a dangerous one that featured the work of “the ideal macho man” of the nineteenth century (Bell, Butlin, Heffernan 1995,4) producing maps that indicate his “overcoming [of] the challenges of the natural world” (Sharp 2009, 40) in foreign spaces to derive the necessary knowledge to advance the will to empire. Consequently, as Sharp indicates, geographic thinking as it existed in that period in the form of travel narratives featured first-​person heroic accounts of intrepid men that advanced “a kind of muscular, individualistic, independent masculinity” (39) as can be seen in the oracular account of the capture and subduing of the crocodile of ­chapter 32. Having set up the geographic landscape of Egypt as problematic, the oracle takes the next step of demonstrating the military attack against Egypt. As in the Tyre oracle, the fate of Egypt has implications for its partners. The Egypt oracle fills out a broader geographical vision by paying attention to Egypt’s military and political allies. The first quick list includes five mentioned nations and a further set of unnamed associates that will fall by the sword unleashed upon Egypt (30:5–​6). The oracle continues with a selected focus upon Cush that shows it simultaneously sharing in the fate of Egypt (30:9). An additional scene plays out with a murky collection of people in Egypt’s geographical and political orbit referred to as ‫“( הֲ מ֣ו ֹן‬hordes” [30:10, 18]). The identity of the group becomes clearer in the lament over Pharaoh and Egypt in 21:17. This group includes a list of a least seven named nations that like Egypt will be brought down to what the oracle now refers to as the Pit. Doak attempts to identify some geographic order in the list but manages to make some semblance of logic from the perspective of size of the nations (2013, 620). Broadening the landscape to include these different nations expands the geographic vision and at the same time imparts a view of control of a significant swath of territory. While the cartographical thinking of the oracle does not draw actual lines between Egypt and these nations, the shared alliances and, in particular, the shared fate of all of these nations illustrate the existence and ultimately illuminates this network of dangerous spaces. The oracle achieves the characterization of geographical space as dangerous, strange, and chiefly foreign through the personification of these nations and in this way provides meaning about its understanding of the landscape and view of the world. As these nations are drawn into the Pit, the oracle represents the creation of either blank space on a map or at least space that no longer holds any threat. The territorialization of the Pit as an act of imperial power achieves its strongest impact through the oracle’s preoccupation with the uncircumcised. If any thing, the oracle has constructed this group of nations as a network of uncircumcised with all of the cultural and religious condescension implied by that condition. Evidently, the point lies not with whether the nations practiced circumcision or not in real life (Zimmerli 1983, 173) but instead to show that their future fate places them among the uncircumcised. This “anti-​ ideal treatment” of corpses of foreign leaders (Stavrakopoulou 2010, 69) and others in this list conveys the appropriate contempt for these nations that the oracle collectively regards as ‫“( הֲ מ֥ו ֹן ִמצְ ַ ֖ריִם‬hoards of Egypt” [32:18]).

504   Steed Vernyl Davidson The two main oracles against Tyre and Egypt offer geographical thinking that rationalizes the economic and cultural practices associated with the landscape. On these two counts and certainly others, the oracles reveal how the world should be constructed in order to benefit an imperial power. The disruptions of Tyre’s economic monopoly of trade open the space for a new power to fill that space. The destruction of Egypt’s military alliances viewed negatively as consisting of barbaric forces in need of subjugation sets the stage for the emergence of the power that ensures the triumph of civilizing forces. The logic implicit in these oracles reflect the imperial rhetorical registers of real empires that view their role as ordering space to conform to their will. As Sharp puts it, “Colonial landscapes were ordered, sanitised, made amenable to regulation, and structured to enhance the flow of economic activities” (56). These oracles express larger concerns to regulate the landscape from a particular theological perspective that controls the people who inhabit those spaces and ultimately determine the activities that occur within them. The imperial tendency to use the geography as the system to “incorporate, categorise, discipline, control and reform the inhabitants of the city, town or plantation” (Sharp 56) appears in the quest of the oracles to paint the world’s geographical order and to fill it with the desired meanings.

3.  Between Real and Fictional Geographies The distinction between real and imagined geographies is in many ways an arbitrary one. This separation relies upon the objectivity of geographical data to confirm what are real spaces from imagined spaces. Understanding that even maps with all of their scientific input do not fully represent the real but participate in some way in the imaginary constructs of the world embraced by the mapmaker reduces the gap that can be drawn between the actual and mythological geographies of Ezekiel. These distinctions of real and mythological geography ignore the fact that the mythological today was part of reality in the past. To anyone ignorant of global geography, Sheol was as real as Egypt and the land of Magog as potentially threating as the land of Put. Block reflects the consensus that Gog lies outside of the real nations that the main collection deals with because their “own history had touched Israel’s at many points. This has never been true for any nation called Gog” (Block, 1998, 430). Imperial mapmaking filled in gaps of knowledge created by the encounter with the strange and unexplainable with myths and tales of monsters that populated hazardous terrain. Sharp indicates how Sir John Mandeville’s fourteenth century description of Ethiopia functioned as part of the imaginary of races and people who were not European and through descriptions like these performed the racialization of spaces that had exotic sounding names (2009, 11). Ezekiel’s use of both Sheol/​the Pit and Magog functions in a similar way to fill in the unknown geographic spaces of the world as well to extend further the sense of danger contained in the geographical

Ezekiel Imperialized Geographies in the Nation Oracles    505 thinking of the oracles. Even though the Gog oracle appears superfluous in comparison to the main collection of foreign nation oracles, they reflect the lack of modesty that characterizes prophetic literature. More than simply pressing a point already made, the Gog oracle adds several features to the cartographical thinking not supplied by the other oracles. This oracle supplies the book with the monstrous race that needs to be vanquished and the construction of clear borders of containment to protect the new geography of holiness that ­chapters 40–​48 describes (Stevenson 1996, 13). The portrayal of Gog combines aspects of the known and unknown in ways that fill out the imperial register of the strange. Carvalho indicates that Magog may be a “historical nation about which we know very little” (2015, 113). While Gog and Magog find no correlate in historical and geographical accounts, Meshech and Tubal both appear on previous occasions in the book and likely refer to Lydia (Block 1998, 436). Zimmerli suggests that the presentation of Gog reflects the partial knowledge of the northern most limits of the earth’s territory (1983, 302). In this way Gog and the land of Magog form an important northern border beyond the edges of human civilization (38:15). In fact, the three geographic references in the oracle place Gog and his associates not simply to the north but the “remotest parts of the north” (39:2 ;15 ,38:6[ ‫)]י ְַרכְּ תֵ ֥י ָצפ֖ו ֹן‬. The grotesque presentation of Gog as a wild animal (38:4; 39:2) contrasts significantly with those of Tyre and the Pharaoh. While the bestial images are not sustained throughout the oracle, the implication of Gog as the leader of a throng of wildlings appears fairly consistent. The word ‫“ הָ מו ֹן‬horde” used frequently to describe Egypt’s network turns up less frequently in this oracle. Yet Gog and his associates are characterized as disrupting the settled existence of Israel like swarm clouds (38:9), plundering defenseless settlements (38:11–​12), not fit to be buried (39:4) as a mark of divine displeasure (Stavrakopoulou 2010, 71). Gog’s peculiar role unlike any other oracle serves to highlight the boundaries between the barbarous and the civilized. The oracle indicates that divine action stirs God’s attack (38:8) and in another sense unstated fears that play to the stereotype of Gog as uncontrollably wild paint him as a threat to settled existence (38:11–​12). The oracle draws upon fears of the unknown region and the people who inhabit it as the basis for offering a form of cartographical thinking that separates the wild areas from settlement. Merchant indicates how the distinctions operate in imperial registers that “the polar opposites of ‘wildness’ and ‘animality’ were ‘civilization’ and ‘humanity’ ” (1989, 39). The Gog oracle invokes the monstrous race that falls outside of the settled existence represented by even enemies such as Egypt and Tyre. Vanquishing Gog removes the threat that flows from the unknown and the impenetrable spaces of the world. The oracle takes the next step of establishing a clear boundary that firmly fixes the separation between wild space and settled space. Despite the death of Gog and his associates, the oracle goes further to draw this boundary line that identifies the wild areas (39:11) but more so to indicate the areas that now fall within the realm of the normal. The death of Gog and his associates provide both the opportunity and the resources to create this boundary. While Stavrakopoulou offers a compelling assessment of the valley site as a “mythic-​symbolic” location (2010, 79), her sense that the site

506   Steed Vernyl Davidson marks the boundaries of a “mytho-​geographical entrance to the underworld” (2010, 83) constructs too stark a distinction between the real and the mythical. The boundary marked by the valley importantly draws the line between the clean and unclean (39:14, 16) and sets the boundaries of holiness for the land as ­chapters 40–​48 details further. This final boundary setting comes after the defeat of all the nations and therefore marks the accomplishment of the recharting of territorial space. The decisive victory against Gog means that all forces—​military, economic, cosmic, mythical—​have been removed from the world and the geographic space now exists in a form conducive to the interests of the site of enunciation.

4.  Concluding Thoughts—​The Westward Cartography The book of Ezekiel makes a westward journey from Babylonia to Jerusalem. My notion of westwardness is influenced by Johnson’s inversion of the historian Michelle P. Brown, “The Eastwardness of Things” (2016, 115; Brown, 2011). I use it here to signal the perceptible geographic power that these oracles advocate and the striking semblances between the thinking of the oracles and European imperialism. This final geographic transition can be easily lost among the different travels between the two main sites in Ezekiel and the bewildering geographic views of the foreign nation oracles. The transition from Babylonia to Jerusalem not only marks a relocation of the deportees but serves as a site of enunciation for the book. Although the imperial space of Babylon accounts for the imperialized vision of the oracles, this vision reflects the interests not of Babylon as an imperial power but of Jerusalem as the site of the divine imperium. While targeting Tyre and Egypt along with the other named nations at the head of the lists of the oracles is easily explained as a focus upon those nations that stood against Babylon, Babylon’s interests are not ultimately served by the landscape that the oracles set out to construct. Admittedly, the oracle against Egypt indicates the divine grant of Egypt to Babylon as compensation for Babylon’s failure to capture Tyre (29:17–​20), but Babylon as an imperial power only appears as the earthly muscle of the divine imperium (26:7; 29:18–​19; 30:10, 24–​25; 32:11). In fact, Babylon is no longer mentioned in the book after the oracle against Egypt. Imperial configurations shape these oracles. The cartographical thinking that they deploy draws upon imperial registers that view the arrangement of land space from the perspective of and in the interests of imperial constructions. The determination to rechart geographical space by removing hostile nations; destroying flora, fauna, and animal life in these spaces; disrupting economic activity; and decimating populations of people to create a world secure for the interests of a specific group reflects some of the hallmarks of imperial thinking. Demarcating clear boundaries for the spaces included on the inside of the civilized world occurs through the Gog oracles and points to another

Ezekiel Imperialized Geographies in the Nation Oracles    507 layer of imperializing cartographical discourse. The oracles as a collection define what the world looks like from the perspective of a God’s eye-​view of the imperial map. This view purports to show a world where peace and security serve as the basis for prosperity. Jerusalem shifts the site of enunciation away from Babylon and in doing so adds the priestly vision of the divine imperium on earth that replaces other empires. This westward movement to Jerusalem culminates several journeys that appear in the book. The westward movement’s main achievement lies in the representation of cartographical thinking in the oracles to construct the geographic spaces of the world as the arena where the divine emperor reigns.

Notes 1. Johnson uses the word archive here not to suggest intentional order of the material but rather to indicate that the practice is “intellectual, social, and in particular, literary, and meaning is created between the individual pieces of a map both intentionally and not” (11). 2. Nedra Reynolds refers to the seduction within geography to capture the “God’s eye view” as visualism (63).

Bibliography Bammer, Angelika. Displacements: Cultural Identities in Question. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1994. Barton, John. Understanding Old Testament Ethics: Approaches and Explorations. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2003. Bell, Morag, Robin A. Butlin, and Michael Heffernan. “Introduction.” In Geography and Imperialism 1820-​1940, edited by M. Bell, R. A. Butlin, and M. Heffernan, 1–​12. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1995. Blenkinsopp, Joseph. Ezekiel. Interpretation. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1990. Block, Daniel L. The Book of Ezekiel Chapters 1-​24. New International Commentary on the Old Testament. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997. Block, Daniel L. The Book of Ezekiel Chapters 25-​48. New International Commentary on the Old Testament. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998. Blunt, Alison and Cheryl McEwan, eds., Postcolonial Geographies. London: Continuum, 2002. Bowen, Nancy R. Ezekiel. Abingdon Old Testament Commentaries. Nashville: Abingdon, 2010. Brown, Michelle P. “The Eastwardness of Things: Relationships Between the Christin Cultures of the Middle East and the Insular World.” In The Genesis of Books: Studies in the Scribal Culture of Medieval England in Honour of A. N. Doane, edited by M. T. Hussey and J. D. Niles. Studies in the Early Middle Ages 9, 17–​49. Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols, 2011. Carvalho, Corrine L. “The God that Gog Creates: ‘Drop the Stories and Feel the Feelings.’ ” In The God Ezekiel Creates, edited by P. M. Joyce and D. Rom-​Shiloni, 107–​31. London: Bloomsbury, 2015. Clayton, Daniel. “Imperial Geographies.” In A Companion to Cultural Geography, edited by J. S. Duncan, N. C. Johnson, and R. H. Schein, 449–​68. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2004.

508   Steed Vernyl Davidson Cosgrove, Denis. “Mapping/​Cartography.” In Cultural Geography: A Critical Dictionary of Key Ideas, edited by D. Sibley, D. Atkinson, and P., 27–​33. London: I.B. Tauris, 2005. Davidson, Steed Vernyl, Margaret Aymer, and Jione Havea. “RumInations.” In Islands, Islanders, and the Bible: RumInations, edited by J. Havea, M. Aymer, and S. V. Davidson, 1–​21. Atlanta: SBL Press, 2015. Doak, Brian R. “Ezekiel’s Topography of the (Un-​)Heroic Dead in Ezekiel 32:17-​32.” Journal of Biblical Literature 132/​3 (2013): 607–​24. Dunlop, Nicholas. “A Few Words About the Role of the Cartographers: Mapping and Postcolonial Resistance in Peter Carey’s ‘Do You Love Me?’ ” In Postcolonial Spaces: The Politics of Place in Contemporary Culture, edited by A. Teverson and S. Upstone, 28–​39. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011. Eichrodt, Walter. Ezekiel: A Commentary. Old Testament Library. Philadelphia: Westminster John Knox, 1970. Gottwald, Norman K. All the Kingdoms of the Earth: Israelite Prophecy and International Relations in the Ancient Near East. New York: Harper and Row, 1964. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 1-​20. The Anchor Bible. New York: Doubleday, 1983. Greenberg, Moshe. Ezekiel 21-​37. The Anchor Bible. New York: Doubleday, 1997. Hayes, John H. “The Usage of Oracles Against the Nations in Ancient Israel” Journal of Biblical Literature 87 (1968): 81–​92. Heggulund, Jon. World Views: Metageographies of Modernist Fiction. New York: Oxford University Press, 2012. Johnson, Scott Fitzgerald. Literary Territories: Cartographical Thinking in Late Antiquity. New York: Oxford University Press, 2016. Joyce, Paul M. Ezekiel: A Commentary. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 482. New York: T&T Clark, 2007. Kinukawa, Hisako. “The Island of Tyre: The Exploitation of Peasants in the Regions of Tyre and Galilee.” In Islands, Islanders, and the Bible: RumInations, edited by J. Havea, M. Aymer, and S. V. Davidson, 135–​46. Atlanta: SBL Press, 2015. Merchant, Carolyn. Ecological Revolutions: Nature, Gender, and Science in New England. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1989. Morrissey, John. “The Imperial Present: Geography, Imperialism, and Its Continued Effects.” In Wiley-​Blackwell Companion to Cultural Geography, edited by N. C. Johnson, R. H. Schein, and J. Winders, 494–​507. Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 2013. Olwig, Karen Fog. “Islands as Places of Being and Belonging.” Geographical Review 97 (2007): 260–​73. Phillips, Richard. Sex, Politics and Empire: A Postcolonial Geography. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2006. Punter, David. Postcolonial Imaginings: Fictions of a New World Order. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2000. Reynolds, Nedra. Geographies of Writing: Inhabiting Places and Encountering Difference. Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois University Press, 2007. Ryan, James R. “Postcolonial Geographies.” In A Companion to Cultural Geography, edited by J. S. Duncan, N. C. Johnson, and R. H. Schein, 469–​84. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2004. Said, Edward W. Orientalism. New York: Vintage, 1979. Said, Edward W. “Narrative, Geography and Interpretation” New Left Review 180 (1990): 81–​97. Said, Edward W. Culture and Imperialism. New York: Alfred Knopf, 1993.

Ezekiel Imperialized Geographies in the Nation Oracles    509 Sharp, Joanne P. Geographies of Postcolonialism: Spaces of Power and Representation. Los Angeles: Sage, 2009. Sidaway, James D. “Postcolonial Geographies: Survey-​ Explore-​ Review.” In Postcolonial Geographies, edited by A. Blunt and C. McEwan, 11–​28. New York: Continuum, 2002. Sluyter, Andrew. Colonialism and Landscape: Postcolonial Theory and Applications. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 2002. Stavrakopoulou, Francesca. “Gog’s Grave and the Use and Abuse of Corpses in Ezekiel 39:11-​ 20.” Journal of Biblical Literature 129 (2010): 67–​84. Stevenson, Kalinda Rose. The Vision of Transformation: The Territorial Rhetoric of Ezekiel 40-​ 48. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1996. Strong, John T. “Egypt’s Shameful Death and the House of Israel’s Exodus from Sheol (Ezekiel 32.17-​32 and 37.1-​14).” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 34/​4 (2010): 475–​504. Sweeney, Marvin A.“Myth and History in Ezekiel’s Oracle Concerning Tyre (Ezekiel 26-​28).” In Myth and Scripture: Contemporary Perspective on Religion, Language, and Imagination, edited by D. E. Callender, 129–​47. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2014. West-​Pavlov, Russell. Spaces of Fiction/​Fictions of Space: Postcolonial Place and Literary DeiXis. Hampshire, UK: Palgrave MacMillan, 2010. Zimmerli, Walther. Ezekiel 2: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel Chapters 25-​48. Hermeneia. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983.

Chapter 27

E zekiel’s Tang i bl e Et h i c s Physicality in the Moral Rhetoric of Ezekiel Corrine Carvalho

Writing an essay about the ethics of Ezekiel should be easy. After all, what is there to argue about? I can review the literature and cite the plethora of interpreters who agree (a minor miracle in biblical studies). The book is not subtle. In fact, I suspect the history of its interpretation—​featuring those who ignore, despise, castigate, or deliciously call the book “strange”—​has much to do with its unrelenting ethical worldview (Mills 2007). In a nutshell: sin is bad, unavoidable, and punishable by hyperbolic divine violence.1 This chapter will not contest these conclusions but will offer a different approach to reading the ethics of Ezekiel. Instead, I will focus on the book’s use of the senses to demonstrate the author’s (or authors’) insistence that ethics is not theoretical. There are tangible, real-​world consequences for political, national, and individual decisions that are played out on the vulnerable body of collective Judah often in horrific and disgusting ways. This is an ethic stemming from the intergenerational trauma endured by the former ruling elite. Ezekiel’s ethics seethes with their rage, woundedness, and resignation. For the Persian period audience, whether in Yehud or in the diaspora, removed from the immediate experience of exile, the book becomes a site of communal memory, a book that insists that the audience experience at some level this defining collective trauma.

1.  Traditional Engagements with the Explicit Ethics in Ezekiel Discussions of ethics in Ezekiel have traditionally proceeded within the context of broader discussions of Hebrew Bible ethics in general, and ethics in the prophetic literature in particular. These start with ethical principles and apply them to the text of

Ezekiel’s Tangible Ethics    511 Ezekiel, with John Barton’s categories of ethical worldviews, such as divine command, natural law, virtue ethics, and imitatio Dei (1998), providing a common vocabulary for the discourse (Birch 2009; James 2017; Nasuti 2018; Weiss 2018). As a result, more recently biblical scholars have turned to what are often termed “troubling texts,” i.e., texts that either endorse actions deemed abhorrent in contemporary ethics or that depict God as a violent character, such as warrior or avenger (e.g., Collins 2004; Kelle and Ames 2008; Davies 2010; Dell 2010; O’Brien and Franke 2010; Creach 2013; and Scholz and Andin͂ach 2016). The scholarship on the ethical worldview(s) in Ezekiel follows a similar trajectory: using classic categories from the field of Christian ethics and moving into approaches that challenge the fundamental biases embedded within those categories. Foundational discussions of the explicit ethical discussions in the book of Ezekiel include those by Joyce (1989), Lapsley (2000a), and Mein (2006). Paul Joyce (1989, esp. 33–​60) set the agenda for the discussion of ethics in the book, especially in his discussion of Ezekiel 18, a chapter which highlights the issue of theodicy that underlies the whole book, concluding that this chapter is concerned with intergenerational responsibility (see also Matties 1990; Darr 2004; Alaribe 2006; Mol 2009; Joyce 2019). Joyce situates that concept within the larger context of the “radical theocentricity” of the book. Lapsley (2000a, p. 30) examines the tension in the book concerning whether the moral self is capable or not of acting virtuously, using the tools of Barton’s engagement with moral categories. Mein (2006) examines the ethics of the book within its overall sociological setting, connecting the book’s ethical worldviews to the social location of the ideal readers (preexilic community, exiles, or an idealized future community). Mein’s approach anticipated the more current bend toward postcolonial approaches to the book’s overall worldview. His discussion of “hope” as learned helplessness (or to use his term, passivity and surrender to the divine) also functions within that exiled social setting of enforced passivity. Feminist and postcolonial readings of the Bible have focused on the ways that these ethical models reinforce patriarchal and imperialist worldviews by defining “justice” from the perspective of those with privilege. While these latter approaches are too numerous to survey here, their impact has problematized the connection between prophets and social justice by revealing how their discourses do not question the underlying assumptions of their cultural worldview (Davidson 2011; Maier and Sharp 2013; Boer 2015). Their critique raises the issue of ethics, not of a text, but of a reading. With whom should the reader identify, or, to be less impositional, to whom should the reader listen? And is it possible to read the book of Ezekiel from the underside, when the book seems obsessively focused on impositions of power? Feminist interpretations of the book of Ezekiel often focus on the moral problems that arise especially with the depiction of God as abusive spouse in ­chapters 16 and 23 (Setel 1985; Galambush 1992; Weems 1995; Brenner 1996; Day 2000; Baumann 2003; Kamionkowski 2003; Yee 2003; Zsolnay 2010, to cite a few). While it is impossible to do justice to these important studies, the cumulative evidence has convinced most scholars of the toxicity of these images. Although some scholars have noted that the intention of the passages is to castigate elite males (Patton 2000; Koller 2017), there is no doubt that

512   Corrine Carvalho the gender hierarchies and social construction of marriage (and therefore covenant) assumed and exploited by the passages reinscribe assumptions of what male rule over the female (Gen 3:16) looks like. From the perspective of Barton’s ethical category of imitatio Dei, Ezekiel 16 and 23 become fatally problematic. The ethics of the book of Ezekiel do not exist in a vacuum, however, as has been amply demonstrated by the focus in recent years on the book’s use and emendation of traditions found in the Pentateuch. While other essays in this volume discuss the book’s interaction with legal material found in the Torah, it must be noted here the way the author(s) of Ezekiel use categories found in the Holiness Code and the Priestly sources within the explicit rhetoric of the book (Cook 1995; Kohn 2002; Ganzel 2008; Lyons 2009; Wolde 2013; Ganzel and Kohn 2016). Similar to other prophetic books, the categories of abomination, impurity, and disgust in Ezekiel focus the ethical worldview onto the divine plain, rather than on human and social interactions (Sherwood 1998; Kalmanofsky 2016). The book insists that actions designated as “sin” not only disrupt social stability, but actually rupture the relationship between God and the Judean community. More recently Dale Launderville has taken up the category of disgust to unpack the metaphoric use of menstruation (2013; see also Kazan 2017), a category increasingly engaged in affect theory and purity categories. The focus on disgust highlights the book’s use of rhetorical devices to punctuate the ethical principles. The book’s power comes primarily not through its principles of moral philosophy, but through the rhetorical use of ethical vocabulary whose aim is to evoke a visceral response in its audience. This addition of rhetorical analysis not only highlights the vehicle for the book’s ethical principles, but also reminds contemporary audiences that the book’s use of moral categories is secondary to and in service to the book’s main purpose which, for me, is to demonstrate the myriad ways the fall of Jerusalem laid bare the lies the elite had been telling themselves in support of their own privileged status. These studies demonstrate that the ethical attitude of the book of Ezekiel presents a moral order that is clear and unbending because that order flows from the sovereignty of God. The narrations of Israel’s history in c­ hapters 16, 20, and 23 all start with a presentation of the initial sinfulness of the fledgling nation. Israel’s election did not result from moral superiority. In fact, their debasement served the divine intention to further God’s reputation. Launderville contributes an additional insight: the moral disorder engages a physical response, in this case, disgust. I will expand on this physical manifestation of ethical norms in the rest of this chapter in order to address the most impactful elements of Ezekiel’s ethics.

2.  Tangible Consequences for Moral Failures These approaches to the book of Ezekiel have resulted not only in an underappreciation of the book’s ethical aims. They have led to a conclusion that the book is little more

Ezekiel’s Tangible Ethics    513 than propaganda for the former elites of Judah who wish to see their dominance re-​ established after the exile. What I offer here is a different approach to the book’s ethical agenda, one that takes seriously its rhetorical elements as part of the ethical paradigm. The essay asks, what do the ethics of Ezekiel look like, not from the perspective of post-​ Greco-​Roman ethical categories, but rather by starting with the book as a site of negotiation of communal, intergenerational trauma? While such an approach has been applied to the book of Jeremiah, whose main character is made sympathetic through the laments and the narratives about his unjust life, scholars have not asked the same questions of Ezekiel, whose main character doth protest too little and whose visionary experiences feel more like psychosis than rational reflection. Yet I contend that this is exactly where an ethics of the book should begin. When that table is turned, it is clear that, throughout the book of Ezekiel, moral failures lead to tangible consequences; the Babylonian destruction of Jerusalem proved that. The scope of the use of tangible consequences as shaping Ezekiel’s ethical worldview has garnered far too little attention. For the book of Ezekiel, history has proven that the consequences for the disruption of the moral order are not ephemeral, theoretical, or philosophical; they are real, physical, and devastating. The chapter that comes closest to a form of ancient moral discourse, the discussion of intergenerational guilt in ­chapter 18, personalizes the question of collective intergenerational guilt with its focus on the household (Kaminsky 1995, esp. 139–​78). If the head of household sins, do the offspring pay the debt? While the passage addresses the claims of the community that they are not the ones whose decisions have led to national collapse, the text refutes the claim by bringing the argument down to the personal level. God, the text claims, would not hold a son or daughter responsible for the ethical failures of their parents. But rather than citing this as an example of divine mercy, the book uses the example to stress the fact that the current generation is getting what it deserves. Divine justice will get its due. Ezekiel 20 reinforces the messages of ­chapter 18. The text again presents the collective nation as equally evil across each successive generation, undercutting the possibility of a previously righteous community. Here the divine punishment is delayed, not because previous iterations of “Israel” were more righteous, but simply because God allowed them to live. The moral concept that this discourse plays with however is obedience to the divine will. The text castigates Israel for its disobedience and rebellion, yet in a stroke of brilliant irony, God punishes them by giving them laws that they want to follow, but which were, in fact, “not good” (Ezek 20:25). Their obedience to God’s evil laws ushers in divine punishment. The corrupting divine command in Ezekiel 20:26 hooks in the question of intergenerational responsibility by the very fact that the law commanded child sacrifice. In other words, it looks at intergenerational ethical impacts across generations once again, but this time in the opposite direction: can children save their fathers from the horrors of divine punishment? In 2 Kings 3:27, the Moabite king sacrifices his son in order to save his city. While I am not suggesting that Ezekiel 20:26 is reflecting on this specific passage, the two texts reflect an attitude toward child sacrifice that depicts it as a remedy for sin, and not as a firstborn thank offering (except in cases where the sin that is being

514   Corrine Carvalho punished is ignoring child sacrifice). Ezekiel 20 presents the parents as willing to sacrifice their children, with the implication that they would be willing to do so to save their own lives. The ironic element in Ezekiel 20:22–​26 further undercuts any naïve approach to moral obedience. The human community in this scenario has free will, and the text insinuates that they have the rational capacity to question divine commands. The text invites the reader to speculate (Wilson 2016) what would have happened if they had rebelled against God’s command to sacrifice their children. Would they have actually saved themselves by recognizing the true moral order (each generation responsible for itself)? The book of Ezekiel does not leave free will and rational thought uncomplicated either. Scholars have pointed to the prevalent theme of hubris in the book. The most prideful characters in the book seem at first glance to be foreign. Gog of Magog, the Pharaoh, and the Prince of Tyre serve as poster boys of vanity. Gog’s characterization depicts him as the quintessential wicked foreign invader, perhaps a cypher for Israel’s serial colonizers. The serpentine Pharaoh represents the enemy that will not die, always lurking in the background, ready to pounce on Israel’s troubles. The depiction of the Prince of Tyre, however, again undercuts the expectation of an original innocence. Engaging creation images that also manifest in a different way in Genesis 2–​3, Ezekiel 28 depicts this beautiful creation of God who loses everything because of his vanity. The book is less overt about Israel’s hubris, but it too lurks in passages such as the claim that those left in the land now possess the covenant with Abraham (Ezek 33:24).

3.  Tangible Metaphors for Sin and Punishment Like most prophetic books, Ezekiel abounds in descriptions of violence. Both sin and punishment involve bloodshed (Kutsko 2000). While the prose-​like discourses of ­chapters 18 and 20 often serve as the foci for discussions of the ethical perspective in the book of Ezekiel, the chapters that elicit the strongest moral outrage of contemporary readers are those that play with vivid metaphors. The use of the marriage metaphor in ­chapters 16 and 23 triggers that outrage which, instead of eliciting disgust of self as perhaps intended, results in disgust at the book’s own moral order. I do not think that this disgust is unintentional; I think the visceral response is the point. The power of the metaphors in these two chapters stems again from the way the text brings theoretical political topics down into the household and the bedroom. For the book of Ezekiel, the political is personal. By putting a face on the collective nation, the chapters expect a strong, visceral reaction. And this face is not just any face. It is not the face of the king callously burning a scroll, or of a false prophet claiming all will be well. It is not even the face of a beleaguered prophet like Jeremiah, or of an Isianic voice crying

Ezekiel’s Tangible Ethics    515 in the wilderness. It is the face of a wife whom the narrator’s male husband has treated well and even indulgently. It is the face of what every male audience member wants (even as only a social trophy), that then becomes the face of their own downfall (Patton 2000). The texts’ love affair with irony plays out as the audience looks in a metaphorical mirror and realizes that the face is their own. The self-​loathing that the image attempts to trigger comes in the form of the divine physical punishment that this face, this body endures. To be sure, the punishment of the woman is hyperbolic, beyond what is proscribed by the legal materials that have survived (Lev 20:10; Num 5:11–​31; Deut 22: 20–​22), but Klein (2019) has demonstrated how the use of the lexeme ‫ גלה‬portrays exile as a kind of rape. As the husband cheers on the stripping, stoning, and mutilation of the collective body (16:39–​43), the audience realizes it cheers for its own self-​mutilation, a response designed to trigger self-​loathing, disgust, and shame. The book uses non-​human images also as tangible depictions of sin and punishment such as trees (chs. 15, 17, 31), mountains (chs. 6 and 34), and lions (ch. 19). While these images are also found in Assyrian iconography and preexilic prophetic texts (Bonfiglio 2017), these images from nature are not ignored in the book either. Galambush (2001 and 2004) uncovers how many of the images derived from nature, especially that of the land, symbolize threats to social order (also Pikor 2018). One of the most powerful images in the book is one where God brings together the image of the human body and that of the natural world: the feasting of the carrion birds on Judean corpses in Ezekiel 39:17–​20 (Warren 2014; Carvalho 2015). Such images extend the disgusting effects of human irresponsibility and divine prerogative across the cosmic plane.

3.1  Awe, Holiness, and Impurity The visions of God’s cultic presence and absence serve as visible icons for the book’s ethical worldview (Kutsko 2000). Ethics are merely the consequence of the nature of the divine being (Joyce, 2010), not because of a notion of imitatio Dei, but rather as a reality that humans cannot avoid. Yet the book does not communicate this through a philosophical discourse, but through a vision that emphasizes its sensory reality. The prophet sees and hears the awe-​full presence of God three distinct times in the book: at the beginning overabundantly filling the temple (1:26–​28), partway through the exile of the title character as it exits the city (10:1, 18), and then at its entry into the visionary temple that closes the book (43:1–​4). The visceral experience of the first vision is captured in the sensory experiences that Ezekiel both sees and hears, experiences that are ultimately indescribable (1:24–​28). At the end of the three-​chapter visionary trip to Jerusalem, Ezekiel’s catatonic state (3:14) communicates the overwhelming nature of the divine presence. Ezekiel’s sensory experience of the divine sets the stage for how the book reshapes everything. The book of Ezekiel is not the only Israelite text that emphasizes the transcendence of the divine, but the use of tangible elements of this vision rhetorically stresses both

516   Corrine Carvalho the reality of what the prophet sees as well as its utter Otherness. While Isaiah’s vision in Isaiah 6 also has tangible elements (the prophet sees, hears, and feels the hot coals on his lips), that vision ends with the prophet participating in the Divine Council and speaking directly to God. Ezekiel’s vision, by contrast, results in loss of speech even in his ability to describe what he sees, and ultimately in a prolonged catatonic state. He recovers long enough to object to some cooking instructions, but, unlike Jeremiah, that is the last protest he mutters. Ethically this visionary experience expresses the concept that divine power trumps all. Since the book’s primary ethical dilemma is that of theodicy, the vision makes clear that human objection to what they experience as unjust divine punishment is fundamentally absurd on any level. Human arguments are silenced before God; the course of history is unavoidable; and any explanation of human events that does not ultimately stem from the nature of the divine is false. This principle is found throughout the book. Every choice that the book depicts God making stems from divine prerogative alone (Schwartz 2000). In ­chapter 20, God chooses Israel because they are not worthy. Chapters 16 and 23 depict Israel as an infant uncapable of choice when God first chooses them, and in c­ hapter 36:22–​32 God purifies the sinful nation without any prerequisite action on the part of the survivors. God does not need our help or our explanations. This awe also conveys the unavoidability of divine actions, and in the book of Ezekiel, most of these result in disaster. To be sure, the book’s final chapters describe a visionary future of peace and safety, but, outside of c­ hapters 40–​48, the book lingers over the tangible elements of national collapse. Even the book’s later elements remain consistent in this divine portrait. In ­chapters 38–​39, the author portrays the enemy (Gog and his army) in mythic terms: they come from the furthest reaches of the earth, cutting a path of destruction as they descend on the unwalled settlements of Israel. While the actual battle between God and Gog is not described, the vastness of the enemy and epic proportions of the clash are represented by the time needed to clean the battlefield and burn the bodies. The book’s obsession with awe also plays into the book’s focus on the limits of divine knowability. For example, the book of Ezekiel connects law, covenant, and theology through its repeated use of the recognition formula (various versions of “You shall know that I am Yahweh”), as discussed by Callender (2015), but his intriguing essay traces how the echoes of Pentateuchal covenant language does so in a way that unveils the crisis of human subjectivity in the book. Engaging Lacan, Callender demonstrates the myriad ways the book’s use of symbolic language reveals the problematic of the “real,” which is ultimately made unknowable through the very act of verbalization. Reading the exile through Callender’s lens, the reality of the violence of colonization and its upending of the very structures of power which the covenant assumes, demands a reconfiguration of God that ultimately leads to indescribability, contradiction, irrational ethics, and silence, all concepts that accompany awe. Ezekiel’s use of categories of holiness, defilement, and abomination tap into the visceral element of those categories (Crouch 2015). Grohmann (2017) points out that the book of Ezekiel, which distinguished between defilement (‫ )טמאה‬and

Ezekiel’s Tangible Ethics    517 desecration (‫ )חילול‬ties both to the effect that immoral acts have on the temple. The book emphasizes this connection by further tying these to the concept of abomination (‫)תועבה‬. Søren shows that the land of Israel becomes more impure than the land of exile (2019). Although I am not convinced that the author used P or H in the exact form that we have them today, the book plays with the same ritual categories.2 The word “abomination,” which appears 45 times in the book, is fleshed out through images that elicit revulsion. In the image of the city as a pot in ­chapter 24, the text slows down to focus on a stew of meat, while lesser developed images of abomination include Ezekiel’s bread á la feces (4:9–​15), God’s bloodstained sword (21:1–​17), and corpse-​strewn fields (37:1–​2 and 39:9–​16). Although modern scholars have worked on untangling categories of impurity, sin, and disgust (Klawans 2000; Sklar 2008; Kazen 2008, 2014, 2017; Feder 2013, 2016; Erbele-​Küster 2017), the book of Ezekiel deliberately connects them. The temple vision participates in the book’s ethical worldview through the continuation of the categories of purity and holiness. As many have noted, this vision serves as an architectural icon that communicates the need to protect God’s holiness through strict structures of graded holiness and protection against the encroachment of impurity (Stevenson 1996). This worldview presumes human impurity, which would include not just ritual status based on graded holiness (although, to be sure, that is the main organizing principle), but it would also extend to impurity resulting from sin. There is no plea in this vision to live ethical lives, only to maintain the structures and ritual duties necessitated by human impurities. The temple makes tangible once again the effects of protection against abomination. The vision does not just describe a temple complex, the prophet is led on a tour of the facility. His body (yes, as visionary as the temple itself) walks through gates, climbs stairs, and stands in courtyards that a divine builder has actually measured. He not only sees but hears the return of God on the chariot throne. After the declaration of law, his feet feel the fresh water bubbling up under the threshold of the temple (47:3) and he wades through that water becoming more and more engulfed by its purifying water. The effects of the divine return produce actual fruit that will nourish the collective body monthly. This is a vision wholly pleasant, functioning in a world that no longer needs to elicit disgust and revulsion.

3.2  Postcolonial Shame Then and Now In the United States today, the tangible effects of racism have been brought home through images of the dead bodies of black men killed by police. When George Floyd was publicly murdered by a police officer in Minneapolis, for example, his face became the icon for the reality of systemic racism in the United States. His cries, his lack of breath made all too real the results of implicit bias, unexamined assumptions, hidden power structures, and unequitable access to justice and basic human safety. It got real. So too, the book of Ezekiel reflects the “real” of the colonized subject (Smith-​Christopher 2004).

518   Corrine Carvalho The use of tangible images in Ezekiel functions in the same way. It makes real the consequences of underestimating God, not because the prophet is wagging his finger at his audience, but because the reality that the book must address is that of violence and destruction. Real people have died in that boiling pot of a city (Block 1991). Actual people have been forced into a world where impurity is not an option but a forced state-​ of-​affairs. Live vultures have picked the bones of the war dead dry, and many a husband has watched the delight of his eyes stripped and mutilated before him (Joo 2014). Most Ezekiel scholars have explained the vibrancy of the images by setting the book’s production within the exilic period and historicizing Ezekiel as its author. While I would like to think that at least some of the book comes from a historical elite author, I have become increasingly concerned with the way trauma approaches depend on an author with an immediate experience of trauma. Yet a text like Ezekiel is preserved only because audiences (whether esoteric elites or general populace) felt it was worth preserving. How does it read in this postexilic context? The author lingers over these all too familiar horrors but does so without wanting to elicit empathy. This is no Lamentations. The author is rhetorically screaming to those who should have known better, those marked by hubris, “See what your decisions have led to!” The book insinuates that blaming God merely shifts blame away from their own human responsibility. The charge of hubris which is levied explicitly against foreign kings informs the ethical strategy of the book by democratizing and internalizing the charge to apply to all Judeans. The vision of apostasy in the temple in ­chapters 8–​11 where the worshippers literally turn their backs on God does not forefront the position of the royal king. In fact, Ezekiel refuses to give Zedekiah the title of king. Sin is represented as the people’s rebellion against God’s rule (Ezekiel 20), stubbornness (3:4–​11), aversion of blame onto earlier generations (Ezekiel 18) or onto those already in exile (33:23–​4), and as religious practices that defile the temple (8:7–​17). All of these actions contribute to a deserved state of warranted oppression by a foreign power that is never once blamed for being what it is. Only through the tangible reality of Judah’s subservience to this human colonizer, whether Babylon or Persia, only by having to bow down and grovel to them, will they see that they had refused to bow down to God (Strine 2013, esp. 228–​68). They have been put in their place. The book then does cast God as rightful colonizer (Brett 2013; Smith-​Christopher 2004), and it does tell its audience to be good little colonized subjects because they actually do not deserve more. The book is willing to go to that abhorrent place because it claims that any shifting of blame, any avoidance of systemic fault, any claim of unearned privilege must be, and has been, called to account. Only by self-​loathing and self-​ shaming will any substantive systemic change occur (Lapsley 2000b; Newsom 2012). Shame takes on new meaning in today’s postcolonial awakening. The ethical imperative to feel shame resonates with those of us whose status and privilege has been built on the backs of those who have been enslaved, colonized, and oppressed. This is a theological burden particularly for white Christian scholars who must publicly recognize how biblical texts were used to justify the inequitable treatment of others based on racialized identities coupled with unjust theological anthropologies. I am not asserting that this oppression of the Other is a uniquely Christian phenomenon, but I am saying that white

Ezekiel’s Tangible Ethics    519 Christianity has still not dealt effectively to eradicate the variety of ways theological structures continue to fail to hear the prophetic challenge that the thing most feared is the very thing that must be accepted: and that is precisely the recognition that human power is a lie. While Ezekiel’s concept of shame has many contemporary critics (Stiebert 2002, esp. 129–​64), the dire poignancy of his message resonates horribly today. By reading the book of Ezekiel with an obsessive individualistic lens, contemporary scholars have closed our ears to his message that all systems of power and privilege are inherently blasphemous. As Mein points out (2011), this is a particular postmodern way of reading. Yet the fact remains, Ezekiel’s demotion of Israelite royal power, his portrayal of the nation as a debased female, his depiction of the city as a rusty pot of bloody body parts, and his spatial metaphor of the separate space of divine and human realms, all follow from a fundamental critique of hypocritical political, economic, social, and cultural power. The difficult irony, of course, is that Judah was the colonized nation, not the colonizer, so why level these attacks against the victim? I venture it is because this author’s experience of a shameful fall from privilege and metaphoric if not physical exile from all elements that supported that privilege led to the recognition that if places were switched, Judah would have done the same thing to Babylon. In its very protests of being treated unfairly, the reality is exposed that even the colonized are not willing to relinquish claims to power and privilege. When the book of Ezekiel is read as a collective voice addressing systemic realities, then or now, Ezekiel’s ethical imperative of shame begins to make sense. The recognition of the collective guilt of those who have profited from a continued global economy that keeps colonial structures alive, the Tyres of our age, must be followed by collective (i.e., systemic, structural, and institutionalized) remedies. Any social group that has gained from their own sense of cultural and religious superiority and fails to provide that collective response can stand in for Ezekiel’s exposed and shamed whore who deserves divorce. For the book of Ezekiel, God is justified in taking that covenant oath elsewhere, even to those shamed bodies living on the banks of the River Chebar, where the vain and privileged now live a life of shame made tangible in the food they must eat, the places they must live, the deaths they must witness, and the scars they must bear in silence. In spite of the tangible realities of the fruits of their use of their power and privilege, and with still no recognition of divine sovereignty in view, the book of Ezekiel ultimately must admit that the conversion of Israel, or any collective for that matter, is so impossible, that if it ever were realized, it would be like a new creation, a holy land that cannot be built by human hands and a theological anthropology so fundamentally different, it would be as if all people had a new heart and a new spirit.

Notes 1. For a review of scholarship on biblical ethics, see Eckart Otto, “Hebrew Ethics in Old Testament Scholarship,” Psalmody and Poetry in Old Testament Ethics edited by Dirk J. Human (LHBOTS 572; London/​New York: T&T Clark, 2014), 3–​13.

520   Corrine Carvalho 2. There is not room to discuss ethics in P, H, or Leviticus; the bibliography on these topics is extensive. Suffice it to say that the book of Ezekiel uses the same categories for both intentional and inadvertent sin or failure with the same complexity as P and H. Therefore, the same conundrums apply but to a greater degree since, as a prophetic book, the rhetoric has a more explicit polemical goal, which neither shies away from hyperbole nor tries to be systematic.

Bibliography Alaribe, Gilbert N. Ezekiel 18 and the Ethics of Responsibility: A Study in Biblical Interpretations and Christian Ethics. Arbeiten zu Text und Sprache im Alten Testament; 77. St. Ottillien: Erzabtei St. Ottillien, 2006. Barton, John. Ethics and the Old Testament. Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 1998. Baumann, Gerlinde. Love and Violence: Marriage as Metaphor for the Relationship between YHWH and Israel in the Prophetic Books. Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2003. Birth, Bruce C. “Ethical Approaches: The Story of David as Moral Tale.” In Method Matters: Essays on the Interpretation of the Hebrew Bible in Honor of David L. Petersen, edited by Joel M. LeMon and Kent Harold Richard, 361–​85. SBL Resources for Biblical Study 56. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2009. Block, Daniel I. “Ezekiel’s Boiling Cauldron: A Form-​Critical Solution to Ezekiel XXIV 1-​14,” Vetus Testamentum 41/​1 (1991): 11–​37. Boer, Roland. The Sacred Economy of Ancient Israel. Library of Ancient Israel. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2015. Bonfiglio, Ryan P. “Visualizing Literacy: Images, Media, and Method.” Biblical Interpretation 25/​3 (2017): 291–​319. Brenner, Athalya. “Pornoprophetics Revisited: Some Additional Reflections.” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 70 (1996): 61–​86. Brett, Mark G. “Postcolonial Interpretation: Unequal Terms: A Postcolonial Approach to Isaiah 61.” In Biblical Interpretation and Method: Essays in Honour of John Barton, edited by Katharine J. Dell and Paul M. Joyce, 241–​56. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013. Callender, Dexter, Jr. “The Recognition Formula and Ezekiel’s Conception of God.” In The God Ezekiel Creates, 71–​86, edited by Paul M. Joyce and Dalit Rom-​Shiloni. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 607. London: Bloomsbury, 2015. Carvalho, Corrine L. “The God that Gog Creates: “Drop the Stories and Feel the Feelings.” In The God Ezekiel Creates, edited by Paul M. Joyce and Dalit Rom-​Shiloni, 101–​31. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 607. London: Bloomsbury, 2015. Collins, John J. Does the Bible Justify Violence? Facets. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2004. Cook, Stephen L. “Innerbiblical Interpretation in Ezekiel 44.” Journal of Biblical Literature 114 (1995): 191–​206. Creach, Jerome. Violence in Scripture. Interpretation. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2013. Crouch, C. L. “What Makes a Thing Abominable? Observations on the Language of Boundaries and Identity Formation from a Social Scientific Perspective.” Vetus Testamentum 65/​4 (2015): 511–​41. Darr, Katheryn Pfisterer. “Proverb Performance and Transgenerational Retribution in Ezekiel 18.” In Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World: Wrestling with a Tiered Reality, edited by Stephen L. Cook

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522   Corrine Carvalho Joyce, Paul M. “A Rebirth of Images? Theme and Motif in Jeremiah and Ezekiel.” In Images of Exile in the Prophetic Literature: Copenhagen Conference Proceedings 7-​10 May, 2017, edited by Jesper Høgenhaven, Frederik Poulsen, and Cian Power, 81–​95. Forschungen zum Alten Testament, 103/​2. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2019. Joyce, Paul M. “Ezekiel and Moral Transformation.” In Transforming Visions: Transformations of Text, edited by William A. Tooman and Michael A. Lyons, 139–​58. Princeton Theological Monograph Series 127. Eugene, OR: Pickwich, 2010. Joyce, Paul. Divine Initiative and Human Response in Ezekiel. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 51. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1989. Kalmanofsky, Amy. “Israel’s Open Sore in the Book of Jeremiah.” Journal of Biblical Literature 135,2 (2016): 241–​63. Kaminsky, Joel S. Corporate Responsibility in the Hebrew Bible. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 196. London: T&T Clark, 1995. Kamionkowski, S. Tamar. Gender Reversal and Cosmic Chaos: A Study on the Book of Ezekiel. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 368. London/​New York: Sheffield, 2003. Kazen, Thomas. “Dirt and Disgust: Body and Morality in Biblical Purity Laws.” In Perspectives on Purity and Purification in the Bible, edited by Baruch J. Schwartz, et al., 41–​64. The Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 474. New York: T&T Clark, 2008. Kazen, Thomas. “The Role of Disgust in Priestly Purity Law: Insights from Conceptual Metaphor and Blanding Theories.” Journal of Law, Religion and State 3 (2014): 61–​92. Kazen, Thomas. “Disgust in Body, Mind, and Language: The Case of Impurity in the Hebrew Bible.” In Mixed Feelings and Vexed Passions: Exploring Emotions in Biblical Literature, edited by F. Scott Spencer, 91–​116. Resources for Biblical Study 90. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature Press, 2017. Kelle, Brad E. and Frank Ritchel Ames, eds. Writing and Reading War: Rhetoric, Gender, and Ethics in Biblical and Modern Contexts. SBL Symposium Series 42. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2008. Klawans, Jonathan. Impurity and Sin in Ancient Judaism. New York/​Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000. Klein, Anja. “Uncovering the Nymphomaniac: The Verb ‫ גלה‬and Exile as Sexual Violence in Ezekiel 16 and 23.” In Images of Exile in the Prophetic Literature: Copenhagen Conference Proceedings 7-​10 May, 2017, edited by Jesper Høgenhaven, Frederik Poulsen, and Cian Power, 161–​86. Forschungen zum Alten Testament, 103/​2. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2019. Kohn, Risa Levitt. A New Heart and a New Soul: Ezekiel, the Exile and the Torah. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 258. London: Sheffield, 2002. Koller, Aaron. “Pornography or Theology? The Legal Background, Psychological Realism and Theological Import of Ezekiel 16.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 79/​1 (2017): 401–​21. Kutsko, John F. “Ezekiel’s Anthropology and Its Ethical Implications.” In The Book of Ezekiel: Theological and Anthropological Perspectives, edited by Margaret S. Odell and John T. Strong, 111–​41. SBL Symposium Series 9. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000. Lapsley, Jacqueline E. Can These Bones Live? The Problem of the Moral Self in the Book of Ezekiel. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft. Berlin/​New York: de Gruyter, 2000a. Lapsley, Jacqueline E. “Shame and Self-​Knowledge: The Positive Role of Shame in Ezekiel’s View of the Moral Self.” In The Book of Ezekiel: Theological and Anthropological Perspectives, edited by Margaret S. Odell and John T. Strong, 141–​73. SBL Symposium Series 9. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000b.

Ezekiel’s Tangible Ethics    523 Launderville, Dale. “ ‘Misogyny’ in Service of Theocentricity: Legitimate or Not?” In Prophets Male and Female: Gender and Prophecy in the Hebrew Bible, the Eastern Mediterranean, and the Ancient Near East, edited by Jonathan Stökl and Corrine L. Carvalho, 191–​214. Ancient Israel and its Literature 15. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2013. Lyons, Michael A. From Law to Prophecy: Ezekiel’s Use of the Holiness Code. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 507. London: T&T Clark, 2009. Maier, Christl M. and Carolyn J. Sharp, eds. Prophecy and Power: Jeremiah in Feminist and Postcolonial Perspective. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 577. London: Bloomsbury, 2013. Matties, Gordon H. Ezekiel 18 and the Rhetoric of Moral Discourse. Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series 126. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1990. Mein, Andrew. Ezekiel and the Ethics of Exile. Oxford Theological Monographs. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006. Mein, Andrew. “Ezekiel’s Women in Christian Interpretation.” In After Ezekiel: Essays on the Reception of a Difficult Prophet, edited by Paul M. Joyce and Andrew Mein, 151–​83. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 535. New York/​London: T&T Clark, 2011. Mills, Mary E. Alterity, Pain and Suffering in Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament 479. London/​New York: T&T Clark, 2007. Mol, Jurrien. Collective and Individual Responsibility: A Description of Corporate Personality in Ezekiel 18 and 20. Studia Semitica Neerlandica 53. Leiden/​Boston: Brill, 2009. Nasuti, Harry P. “Called into Character: Aesthetic and Ascetic Aspects of Biblical Ethics.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 80/​1 (2018): 1–​24. Newsom, Carol A. “Models of the Moral Self: Hebrew Bible and Second Temple Judaism.” Journal of Biblical Literature 131 (2012): 1–​25. O’Brien, Julia M. and Chris Franke, eds. The Aesthetics of Violence in the Prophets. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Study 517. New York/​London: T&T Clark, 2010. Otto, Eckart. “Hebrew Ethics in Old Testament Scholarship.” In Psalmody and Poetry in Old Testament Ethics, edited by Dirk J. Human, 1–​13. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament 572. London/​New York: T&T Clark, 2014. Patton, Corrine L. “ ‘Should Our Sister Be Treated Like a Whore?’ A Response to Feminist Critiques of Ezekiel 23.” In The Book of Ezekiel: Theological and Anthropological Perspectives, edited by Margaret S. Odell and John T. Strong, 221–​38. SBL Symposium 9. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000. Pikor, Wojcheich. The Land of Israel in the Book of Ezekiel. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament Studies 667. New York: T&T Clark, 2018. Scholz, Susanne and Pablo R. Andiñach, eds. La Violencia and the Hebrew Bible: The Politics and Histories of Biblical Hermeneutics on the American Continent. Semeia Studies 82. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature Press, 2016. Schwartz, Baruch J. “Ezekiel’s Dim View of Israel’s Restoration.” In The Book of Ezekiel: Theological and Anthropological Perspectives, edited by Margaret S. Odell and John T. Strong, 41–​67. SBL Symposium Series 9. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000. Setel, T. Drorah. “Prophets and Pornography: Female Sexual Imagery in Hosea.” In Feminist Interpretation of the Bible, edited by Letty M. Russell, 81–​95. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1985. Sherwood, Yvonne M. “Prophetic Scatology: Prophecy and the Art of Sensation.” Semeia 82 (1998): 181–​224. Sklar, Jay. “Sin and Impurity: Atoned or Purified? Yes!” In Perspectives on Purity and Purification in the Bible, edited by Baruch J. Schwartz, et al., 11–​31. Library of Hebrew Bible/​ Old Testament Study 474. New York: London: T&T Clark, 2008, 41–​64 respectively.

524   Corrine Carvalho Smith-​Christopher, Daniel L. “Ezekiel in Abu Ghraib: Rereading Ezekiel 16:37-​39 in the Context of Imperial Conquest.” In Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World: Wrestling with a Tiered Reality, edited by Stephen L. Cook and Corrine L. Patton, 141–​57. Society of Biblical Literature Symposium Series 31. Leiden/​Boston: Brill, 2004. Stevenson, Kalinda Rose. Vision of Transformation: The Territorial Rhetoric of Ezekiel 40-​48. Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series, 154. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1996. Stiebert, Johana. The Construction of Shame in the Hebrew Bible: The Prophetic Contribution. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 346. London: Sheffield Academic, 2002. Strine, Casey A. Sworn Enemies: The Divine Oath, the Book of Ezekiel, and the Polemics of Exile. Beihefte für die Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 436. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2013. Warren, Nathanael. “A Cannibal Feast in Ezekiel.” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 38/​ 4 (2014): 501–​12. Weems, Renita J. Battered Love: Marriage, Sex, and Violence in the Hebrew Prophets. Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995. Weiss, Shira. Ethical Ambiguity in the Hebrew Bible: Philosophical Analysis of Scriptural Narrative. Cambridge/​New York: Cambridge University Press, 2018. Wilson, Ian D. “Faster than a Speeding Bullet, More Powerful than a Locomotive, Able to Rule by Sense of Smell! Superhuman Kingship in the Prophetic Books.” In “Not in the Spaces We Know: An Exploration of Science Fiction and the Bible,” edited by Uhlenbruch Frauke. Journal of Hebrew Scriptures 16/9 (2016): 30–44. Wolde, Ellen van. “Cognitive Linguistics: A Cognitive Linguistic Study of the Concept of Defilement in Ezekiel 22:1-​16.” In Biblical Interpretation and Method: Essays in Honour of John Barton, edited by Katharine J. Dell and Paul M. Joyce, 251–​7 1. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013. Yee, Gale A. Poor Banished Children of Eve: Women as Evil in the Hebrew Bible. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003. Zsolnay, Ilona. “The Inadequacies of Yahweh: A Re-​examination of Jerusalem’s Portrayal in Ezekiel 15.” In Bodies, Embodiment, and Theology of the Hebrew Bible, edited by S. Tamar Kamionkowski and Wonil Kim, 51–​74. Library of Hebrew Bible/​Old Testament 465. New York/​London: T&T Clark, 2010.

Index

Tables and figures are indicated by t and f following the page number. Aaron, 300, 479 Aaronides, 295–​298, 301–​302, 305–​308. See also priestly tradition Abiathar, 113 Abraham ancestor traditions and, 306–​307 calling out of Mesopotamia, 309n.11 covenant and, 260, 273 n.46, 369–​370, 376, 514 redemption, promise of, 365 Absalom, 301 acculturation in exile in Babylon, evidence for generally, 190 aspects of acculturation, 194–​195 Babylonian culture, acquaintance with, 190–​191 forced migration and, 207n.39 iconographic influences, 191–​193 time of acculturation, 194–​195 Adad (Babylonian deity), 480 Adam, 410, 426 adultery metaphor, 86–​88, 153–​154, 205–​206 n.18, 352, 423 adversus Judaeos, 370 Ahab, 19 Ahaz, 19–​20 Ahikam, 27 Akkadian language, 40–​44, 50–​51 n.54 Alakas, Brandon, 177n.1 Aleppo Codex, 128 Alexander, Jeffrey, 439 Alexander’s Gate, 341–​344 Alexander the Great, 341–​344 aliens, 290n.5, 303 Allen, Leslie, 459

āl-​Yahudu archive, 44, 193–​196, 209 n.58, 211 n.79 Ambrose (Saint), 333–​337, 343 Améry, Jean, 439 Ammonites, oracle against, 292n.18, 497–​498 Amon, 23 analytical text, 171–​175 Anbar, Moshe, 37 Antichrist, 338–​339, 341–​342 Antiochus IV Epiphanes (Seleucid), 338 Apess, William, 456 Apocalypse defined, 331–​332 Gog/​Magog and, 330–​333 prophetic tradition, “coming end” in, 85–​86 rhetorical strategy and, 157–​160 Aramaic language, 40–​41, 50–​51 n.54 archive, Ezekiel as, 175–​177, 182 n.59 argument, rhetorical strategy and, 150–​153 Arius, 343 Ashkenazic circumcision liturgy, 367, 373, 375 Assmann, Jan, 88 Assurbanipal (Assyria), 21–​23, 35 Assyria agent of Yhwh’s punishment, as, 283 alliances with, 18–​19, 281 Babylon and, 21–​23, 26–​28 invasion by, 19–​21 oracle against, 498 revolt against, 23–​26 Aster, Sean Zelig, 420, 464–​465 Astour, Michael, 37 Atrahasis (Babylonian deity), 191 audience-​character, 327n.2 Augustine (Saint), 337–​338, 343, 371 Austin, John, 325

526   Index Auvray, Paul, 52n.66 awe, 515–​516 Axtell, James, 456 Baal (Philistine deity), 392 Babylon Achaemenid regime, 194 agent of Yhwh’s punishment, as, 282–​ 284, 286 alliances with, 19–​21, 23–​26, 281 Assyria and, 21–​23, 26–​28 cultural elements in Ezekiel, 6–​7 exile in (see exile in Babylon) Final Temple Vision and, 237–​238 Gog/​Magog, identification with, 488n.52, 488 n.53 Ishtar Gate, 480 literary traditions and, 110–​112 maps in, 482–​483n.2 Mesopotamian context of Ezekiel (see Mesopotamian context of Ezekiel) politics and, 222–​223, 228 priests in, 240–​243 Processional Way, 480 rhetorical strategy and, 147–​153 rise of, 21–​23 temples in, 241, 244, 251 n.68 Tyre and, 18, 20, 29 Baltzer, Dieter, 97–​98n.60, 309 n.13 baptism, 374, 398 Barthélemy, D., 40 Barton, John, 3, 511–​512 Baruch, 27 Batto, Bernard F., 272n.36, 272 n.37 Baumann, Gerlinde, 413n.2 Baumgarten, Elisheva, 370 Bautch, Richard, 255, 272 n.37 Behemoth, 488–​489n.55 Ben Adam, 324–​325 Benaiah, 393 Ben Zvi, Ehud, 5, 7 Berdini, Paulo, 384–​385, 387, 397 berit, 268–​269n.2 Berlejung, Angela, 207–​208n.42 Black, Anthony, 230–​231 Blake, William, 385

Block, Daniel I., 97n.55, 110, 117–​118, 227, 229–​ 230, 258, 332, 349, 459, 463, 468, 493, 504 Bodi, Daniel, 5, 8, 37–​38, 44, 110, 112, 191–​192, 206 n.22, 206 n.24 body. See embodiment Boehmer, Marisa Siguan, 439 Boer, Roland, 9, 425 Bogaert, Pierre-​Maurice, 139 Bomberg, David, 384 Bowen, Nancy R., 191, 359 n.37, 445, 485 n.23, 489 n.58, 493 Brecht, Bertolt, 323 Breed, Brennan, 344 Bronze Man, 323 Brooks, Joanna, 456 Broome, Edwin C., Jr., 48n.27, 358 n.27 Brown, Michelle P., 506 Bundesformel, 256–​261, 263–​265, 268, 272 n.38 Bush, George W., 333 Buzi, 170–​171, 187, 204 n.2 Cain, 371 Callender, Dexter, Jr., 516 cannibalism, 451n.38 Carr, David M., 440 Carroll, Robert P., 94–​95n.16, 219, 227 cartographical thinking imperial power, as, 492–​495 imperial registers and, 495–​504 Oracles Against the Nations, in, 495–​499 postcolonial approaches to, 495 real versus fictional geographies, 504–​506 westward movement of, 506–​507 Carvalho, Corrine, 118, 290 n.4, 291 n.10, 331, 415 n.40, 426, 496, 505 chariot vision generally, 8, 30, 39, 350, 376 n.6 embodiment and, 419 Mishnah, in, 362 priestly tradition and, 299, 347 rhetorical strategy and, 149–​150, 156 scribal expansions and, 133 Talmud, in, 363 Charles I (Britain), 338, 340, 343 Chebar, exile in, 187, 198–​200, 201 n.2, 421 cherubim, 420 Chirac, Jacques, 333

Index   527 Christianity. See also pastoral approaches to Ezekiel adversus (contra) Judaeos and, 370 apocalyptic Gog/​Magog and, 330–​333 baptism, 374, 398 “Christ the King,” 353 circumcision and, 370, 372–​375 doctrine of witness and, 371 Easter, 353 geopolitical Gog/​Magog and, 333–​336 Gospels, 347–​348, 350, 353–​355 liturgies, 347 millenarianism and, 335–​336 mythological Gog/​Magog and, 340–​344 New Testament, Ezekiel and, 347 Paschal Vigil, 353 Pentecost, 354–​355 “Reign of Christ,” 353 Revised Common Lectionary, 353–​355 theological Gog/​Magog and, 336–​340 “Christ in Majesty” motif, 384–​385 “Christ the King,” 353 chronological framing, 170 circumcision Ashkenazic circumcision liturgy, 367, 373, 375 Christianity and, 370, 372–​375 dripping of wine, 371–​373 duty of, 380n.62 growing significance of, 368–​369 Islam and, 369–​370 Jacob haGozer (“the Circumciser”) and, 373–​376 mohel, 367–​368 paschal lamb and, 366–​367 rules of, 373–​376 wine rite, 368–​369 Clayton, Daniel, 494 Clements, Ronald, 113 Closed Temple, 387 clothing embodiment and, 430–​431 priests, of, 240–​241, 249 n.35 Codex Vaticanus, 129 Codex Wirceburgensis, 357n.19 Cohen, Jeremy, 379n.52 Cohen, Shayne, 366–​368, 378 n.28

Colenso, John, 461 Collins, John, 331–​332 Combat Myth, 149, 161–​162 n.10 “coming end” prophetic tradition, in, 85–​86 rhetorical strategy and, 157–​160 communication in Ezekiel generally, 312–​315, 326 appointed messenger, 324 audience-​character, 327n.2 Ben Adam and, 324–​325 bypassed messenger, 323 combination of verbal and nonverbal performance, 317–​318 discourse level, at, 315–​322 embodiment versus representation, 315–​316 exile in Babylon and, 320 focalization, 322 freedom versus confinement of Yhwh, 319 golah (community) and, 312, 317, 320–​321 House of Israel and, 320 implied reader, 314, 325–​326 invited messenger, 325–​326 issues in, 312–​315 latent messenger in liminality, 324–​325 literary audience, 314, 323 marriage metaphor, 318 New Temple Vision and, 323 nonverbal performance as sign-​acts, 317 perlocutionary effect, 325–​326 reading level, at, 323–​326 rebellious house and, 320 receiver and, 320–​321 re-​presenting versus reporting, 315–​316 sender and, 319 ultimate selection, 321 verbal performance of vision, 316–​317 “voice in the air,” 323 “comparative gaze,” 462 comparative studies, 34–​38 compromised masculinity, 401, 408–​412 congregation in prophecy tradition, 78–​80 constriction symptoms, 438 contemporary reading of Ezekiel, 10–​11 contradiction, rhetorical strategy and, 152–​153 contra Judaeos, 370 Cook, Stephen L., 3, 11, 244, 320, 332

528   Index Cornell University, 44–​45 cosmic tree oracle, 501–​502 covenant in Ezekiel generally, 255, 267–​268 authoritative covenantal stipulations, 265–​266 berit, 268–​269n.2 Bundesformel, 256–​261, 263–​265, 268, 272 n.38 eternal covenants, 260–​267, 271 n.32 exile in Babylon, conceptions of covenant and, 201–​202 grant, covenant of, 270–​271n.24 Holiness (H) source and, 255, 259, 265–​266, 268 Jacobites, election of, 264–​265 Jeremiah compared, 266–​267, 268 Jerusalem, election of, 263–​264 land as central to, 302–​304 language of covenant, 256–​262 peace, covenant of, 261–​262 redemption of land, 269–​270n.14, 270 n.23 restoration vision, new covenant in, 475, 484 n.19 Crane, Ashley, 116, 228 credibility, rhetorical strategy and, 149–​150 Crimean War, 335 Cromwell, Oliver, 338 cross-​cultural contact “comparative gaze,” 462 dissentient readings, 461 dissident readings, 460–​461 heritagist readings, 461 liberationist readings, 461 nationalist readings, 461 postcolonial approaches to, 460–​461, 468 resistant readings, 461 “cup of wrath,” 445 Cush, oracle against, 503 Cyrus (Persia), 230, 321 Dagon (Philistine deity), 388, 392, 395 Daiches, Samuel, 35 Daniel, 466, 468 Daniel, iconography in, 466 Darr, Kathryn Pfister, 109, 287, 349, 475–​476, 483–​484 n.13, 484 n.14 Darshan, Guy, 191

David covenant and, 260, 270–​271 n.24 embodiment and, 431 Jerusalem and, 484–​485n.20 restoration and, 225 written text and, 172–​174, 177, 182 n.51 Zadokite priests and, 248n.21 Davidson, Richard, 155 Day of Atonement, 369 death, rhetorical strategy and, 157–​160 Deborah, 353 debt slavery, 25 de Hulster, Izaak J., 302 deity in prophetic tradition, 84–​85 de Las Casas, Bartolomé, 460 Delitzsch, Friedrich, 41–​42, 50 n.52, 51 n.59 Derrida, Jacques, 176 design in literary traditions, 112–​114 desymbolization, 438–​439, 441–​448 Deuteronomic (D/​Dt) source literary traditions and, 115–​116 Priestly (P) source compared, 115–​116 priestly tradition generally, 295–​298, 300–​303, 306–​307 Deuteronomy covenant and, 273n.49 Ezekiel compared, 137t Josiah and, 24–​25 legal tradition and, 65, 67–​69 scribal expansions and, 137 discourse level, communication at, 315–​322 combination of verbal and nonverbal performance, 317–​318 embodiment versus representation, 315–​316 exile in Babylon and, 320 focalization, 322 freedom versus confinement of Yhwh, 319 golah (community) and, 317, 320–​321 House of Israel and, 320 marriage metaphor, 318 nonverbal performance as sign-​acts, 317 rebellious house and, 320 receiver and, 320–​321 re-​presenting versus reporting, 315–​316 sender and, 319 ultimate selection, 321 verbal performance of vision, 316–​317

Index   529 disgust, 12, 512, 514–​515 dissentient readings, 461 dissident readings, 460–​461 diversity in analysis, 12 divination, 352, 358 n.36 Doak, Brian R., 503 Dobbs-​Allsopp, Frederick W., 113 doctrine of witness, 371 domestic politics, 221–​223 double current, 40 dreams, 455–​456 drinking performances of, 444–​445 trauma literature and, 442–​443 Driver, G. R., 42 Dry Bones Vision Dura-​Europos Synagogue, in Ezekiel painting at, 384, 388, 391, 394, 397 embodiment and, 426 pastoral approaches to, 347 reading level, communication at, 325 rhetorical strategy and, 150 dual rivers, 192 Dubberstein, Waldo H., 148 Dura-​Europos Synagogue, Ezekiel painting at “Christ in Majesty” motif and, 384–​385 coherence of, 393–​395, 397 Dry Bones Vision and, 384, 388, 391, 394, 397 executioners in, 393, 395–​397 extraneous features in, 388, 391 historical background, 386–​387 idolatry and, 391–​392, 394–​397 interpretation of text in, 384–​386 paganism and, 387–​388 reproductions of, 389–​390 “small sanctuary,” 388 violence in, 392–​393 visual exegesis, 384–​385, 387 Dürr, Lorenz, 39 Dussaud, René, 39 Ea (Babylonian deity), 36, 191 Easter, 353 eating performances of, 444–​445 scroll swallowing, 81, 443–​444, 450–​451 n.30, 450 n.25, 450 n.28 trauma literature and, 442–​443

Ebach, Jürgen, 448 Edelman, Diana, 5 Eden. See Paradise Edict of Cyrus, 209n.58 Edom land and, 303–​304 oracle against, 497 Egypt agent of Yhwh’s punishment, as, 282–​284 alliances with, 281 cosmic tree oracle, 501–​502 geography of, 499–​504 Israel called out of, 309n.11 Israelite adherence to Egyptian practices in, 279 oracle against, 286–​289, 430, 495, 498–​504, 506 Eichrodt, Walther, 484n.14 Eilberg-​Schwartz, Howard, 432 Eising, H., 271n.27 Elam, oracle against, 498 Elasah, 27 Eleazar, 260 Eliezer (Rabbi), 363, 375 Elijah, 295–​300, 387, 392 Elisha, 295–​300, 358 n.36 Ellenbogen, Maximilian, 43 Elrod, Eileen R., 456 Elsner, Jas, 387–​388 embodiment generally, 418, 432 cherubim, 420 clothing and, 430–​431 Dry Bones Vision and, 426 female bodies, 422–​424 foreign bodies, 424–​425 Gog/​Magog, 425 historical Ezekiel, 421 male bodies, 422 marriage metaphor and, 423–​424 masculinity and, 431–​432 nakedness and, 430–​431 pain and, 429–​430 perceptual apparatus, body as, 428–​429 power, body and, 427–​428 queer theory and, 424–​425, 431–​432, 433 n.15 representation versus, 315–​316 supernatural bodies, 419–​420

530   Index embodiment (cont.) torture and, 429–​430 Yhwh, 419–​420 emotion, rhetorical strategy and, 153–​155 Enki (Babylonian deity), 191 Enuma-​elish (Babylonian deity), 191 Eph’al, Israel, 208–​209n.52 Epic of Gilgamesh, 38, 111, 191 Esarhaddon (Assyria), 21–​22, 30 n.9, 36, 112, 190 Esau, 375–​376 eschatology Apocalypse defined, 331–​332 Gog/​Magog and, 330–​333 prophetic tradition, “coming end” in, 85–​86 rhetorical strategy and, 157–​160 Esther, 387, 468 eternal covenants, 260–​267, 271 n.32 ethics in Ezekiel generally, 510 awe and, 515–​516 consequences for moral failures, 512–​514 feminist perspectives, 511–​512 holiness and, 516–​517 hubris and, 514, 518 intergenerational guilt and, 513–​514 Jeremiah compared, 513 New Temple Vision and, 517 postcolonial perspectives, 511 postcolonial shame and, 517–​519 prophetic tradition, ethics and responsibility in, 88–​89 punishment, metaphors for, 514–​519 sin, metaphors for, 514–​519 traditional treatment of, 510–​512 uncleanliness and, 516–​517 ethos, 149–​150 ‘even maskit, 486n.36 exile in Babylon generally, 187–​188, 203–​204 acculturation, evidence for (see acculturation in exile in Babylon, evidence for) aspects of acculturation, 194–​195 Babylonian culture, acquaintance with, 190–​191 challenges to, 187–​188

covenant, conceptions of, 201–​202 discordances, 193–​196 divine presence and abandonment, 200–​201 dynamic conception of Yhwh, 200 historical context of, 19, 29–​30 iconographic evidence for, 191–​193 ideology and, 203 immanent conception of Yhwh, 200 Jehoiachin exiles, 189, 194, 196–​199, 201 lexical evidence for, 190 restoration and return, hopes for, 202 retribution, conceptions of, 203 scriptural evidence for, 189–​190 shame and, 270n.20 social questions, 195–​196 sociological evidence for, 196–​199 theodicy and, 201 theological evidence for, 199–​203 time of acculturation, 194–​195 transcendent conception of Yhwh, 200 trauma, as, 437–​438 Yhwh, conceptions of, 200 Exodus “glory of the Lord” in, 464 Mekhilta de-​Rabbi Yishmael on, 364–​366 Exum, Cheryl, 385–​386, 395 Ezida (Babylonian temple), 241, 244, 248 n.25 feminist perspectives on Ezekiel, 9, 511–​512 fictional geographies, 504–​506 Figes, Orlando, 335 Fine, Steven, 387, 399 n.14 First Crusade, 370–​371, 378 n.39 First Temple Vision, 150, 157–​158 Fishbane, Michael, 107–​108, 117, 139, 349 Floyd, George, 517 Floyd, Michael, 168–​169, 176, 177 n.1, 180 n.21 focalization, 322 Fohrer, Georg, 42–​43 foreign nations in Ezekiel generally, 278, 289 agents of Yhwh’s punishment, as, 282–​284 aliens, 290n.5, 303 alliances with, 281 cause of Israel’s downfall, as, 279–​281 destruction of, 292n.17 embodiment of foreign bodies, 424–​425

Index   531 foreigners, prohibitions on, 279–​280, 290 n.5 international politics, 223–​224 restoration vision and, 287–​288 sojourners, 290n.5, 303 visions of future and, 288–​289 witness to Yhwh’s holiness, as, 284–​288 foreignness in literary traditions, 109–​111 formulaic statements, 169–​170 Fox, Michal, 324 Frankena, Rintje, 36–​37, 43 Freedy, K. S., 148 Freud, Sigmund, 176 Frymer-​Kensky, Tikva, 267 future of Ezekiel scholarship, 11–​13 Gabriel, 393 Galambush, Julie, 9, 263, 272 n.39, 446, 515 Ganzel, Tova, 8 Garfinkel, Stephen, 37, 43 Garstad, Benjamin, 341–​342, 344, 344 n.6 Gedaliah, 27, 29 Gemariah, 27 gender, Ezekiel and generally, 12, 402, 412–​413 compromised masculinity, 401, 408–​412 embodiment of female bodies, 422–​424 ethics and, 511–​512 gender instability, 405–​406, 410–​412 Israel and gender, 405–​407 Jerusalem, menstruation metaphor, 406–​407 marriage metaphor (see marriage metaphor) masculinity (see masculinity) prophetic tradition and, 407–​410 queer theory and, 405, 411, 413–​414 n.13 shame and, 12, 271 n.30, 406, 414 n.24 submission to Yhwh and, 407–​410 uncleanliness and, 406, 414 n.24 women (see women) Yhwh and gender, 410–​412 Genesis ancestor traditions and, 306–​307 covenant and, 365 Paradise, Ezekiel compared, 475–​476 Genette, Gérard, 322

genre in literary traditions, 112–​114 geography in Ezekiel. See also space in Ezekiel generally, 492 Egypt, 499–​504 Gog/​Magog, 504–​506 imperial power, cartographical thinking as, 492–​495 imperial registers and, 495–​504 Nile River, 501–​502 postcolonial approaches to, 495 real versus fictional geographies, 504–​506 Tyre, 499–​501 “us” versus “them” paradigm, 497–​499 westward movement of, 506–​507 geopolitical Gog/​Magog, 330–​331, 333–​336 Gese, Hartmut, 8 Gesenius, Wilhelm, 334, 377 n.11 gestalt, 323 “glory of the Lord,” 464–​465 Gluska, Isaac, 43–​44 Gog/​Magog generally, 330–​331, 343–​344 agent of Yhwh’s punishment, as, 283, 289 apocalyptic Gog/​Magog, 330–​333 Arabs, identification with, 333, 341–​343 Avars, identification with, 334 Babylon, identification with, 488n.52, 488 n.53 comparative studies and, 37 context of Ezekiel, in, 482 destruction of, 286 embodiment and, 425 geography of, 504–​506 geopolitical Gog/​Magog, 330–​331, 333–​ 336, 343 Goths, identification with, 333–​334, 337 literary traditions and, 116, 118 maps, 342 Marduk, identification with, 489n.56, 489 n.57 millenarianism and, 8 mythological Gog/​Magog, 331, 340–​344 oracle against, 495–​497, 504–​507 rhetorical strategy and, 159 Russians, identification with, 334–​335 scribal expansions and, 135–​136 Scythians, identification with, 336

532   Index Gog/​Magog (cont.) thematic pastiche, as, 292n.21 theological Gog/​Magog, 331, 336–​340, 343 trauma and, 446 Turks, identification with, 342 walled cities and, 477–​478 golah (community), 79, 312, 317, 320–​321 Goldingay, John, 270–​271n.24 Goliath, 431 Goodenough, E. R., 387 Good Shepherd, 347 Gospels, 347–​348, 350, 353–​355 Gowan, Donald, 349 grace, 348–​350 Graf, Karl Heinrich, 115 Graffy, Adrian, 210n.65 Granofsky, Ronald, 441–​442 grant, covenant of, 270–​271n.24 Gratian (Rome), 333, 336 Gray, G. Buchanan, 35, 46 n.7 Graybill, Rhiannon, 408, 411 Greenberg, Moshe, 2–​3, 43, 49 n.38, 107, 112, 130, 138, 180 n.26, 182 n.51, 238–​239, 309 n.14, 459, 463 Greenhill, William, 338–​340, 343 Gressman, Hugo, 36, 46 n.9 Grohmann, Marianne, 516–​517 Gruber, Mayer, 43 Gudea (Lagaš), 36 Guest, Deryn, 413–​414n.13 Guibert of Nogent, 370–​371 Guillaume, Phillipe, 4, 5, 8 guilt, 439–​441 Gutman, Joseph, 387–​388 Gyges (Lydia), 332 Habakkuk, 27 Habel, Norman, 356n.3 Hachlili, Rachel, 397 Haggadah, 377n.23 hairstyle of priests, 240, 248–​249 nn.27–​29, 410 Halperin, David J., 10 Hals, Ronald M., 222, 354–​355 Hamilton, Mark W., 219 Hammurapi (Babylon), 190 Hamori, Esther J., 420

Hamutal, 26, 28 Ḥananyah ben Ḥizkiyah, 362 Haran, Menahem, 3 Haupt, Paul, 42 Hayes, John H., 148 Hays, Christopher B., 161n.8 Heintz, Jean-​Georges, 36–​37, 39–​40 Hendel, Ron, 178–​179n.5 heritagist readings, 461 Herman, Judith, 437 Herodotus, 171–​173 Hezekiah, 18–​21, 26, 248 n.21 Hiebel, Janina Maria, 96–​97n.48, 292 n.25 Hill, Christopher, 339 historical context of Ezekiel generally, 18–​19, 474 Assyrian invasion, 19–​21 exile in Babylon, 19, 29–​30 Jewish tradition and, 369–​371 Josiah, 23–​26 Judah, final years of, 26–​29 rise of Babylon, 21–​23 historical Ezekiel generally, 11–​13 age of, 24 authorship and, 181n.37 embodiment and, 421 prophet, as, 81–​84, 481 prophetic legenda, as, 297–​299 wife of, 422 Zadokite priest, as, 170, 247 n.18, 414 n.25 historiographic text, 168–​171, 182 n.59 Hoellein, Ron, 348, 356 n.6 Hoffman, Lawrence A., 377n.20, 378 n.28 holiness ethics and, 516–​517 infusing Yhwh’s own land, 304–​306 life force, as, 299–​302 Holiness (H) source covenant and, 255, 259, 265–​266, 268 ethics and, 512 legal tradition and, 71–​72 literary traditions and, 115, 117–​118 politics and, 221 priestly tradition generally, 296–​298, 303–​304, 307–​308

Index   533 Holladay, William L., 274n.66 Hollender, Elisabeth, 369 Hölscher, Gustav, 35–​36 Holst, Søren, 517 Holt, Else K., 438–​439 Hooker, Alan, 409–​410 Hooker, Paul K., 148 Horst, L., 297 House of Israel, 314, 320 hubris ethics and, 514, 518 rhetorical strategy and, 155–​157 Hussein, Saddam, 333, 343 Hutchins, Edwin, 108 iconography Daniel, in, 466 exile in Babylon, iconographic evidence of, 191–​193 iconographic studies, 39–​40, 48 n.31 visions, iconographic analysis of, 463–​467 ideology, exile in Babylon and, 203 idolatry, 153–​154, 391–​392, 394–​397 imitatio Dei, 511–​512, 515 imperial registers, 495–​504 implied reader, 314, 325–​326 impurity, 406, 414 n.24, 516–​517 Inanna (Babylonian deity), 191 Inaugural Vision, 150, 463 indigenous people, dreams and, 455–​456 intergenerational guilt, 8, 513–​514 international politics, 223–​224 intrusion symptoms, 438 Isaac, 307 Isaiah (book) “glory of the Lord” in, 465 priestly tradition and, 301, 305, 307 prophetic tradition and, 80, 83, 92 restoration vision, Ezekiel compared, 475 scribal expansions and, 139 Isaiah (prophet), 20, 420 Iser, Wolfgang, 323 Ishmael, 19, 29 Ishtar (Babylonian deity), 38, 191, 480 Islam circumcision and, 369–​370 Gog/​Magog and, 330, 341

Jacob, 201, 264–​265, 301, 307, 376, 387 Jacob haGozer (“the Circumciser”), 373–​376 Jacobites, election of, 264–​265 Japhet, Sara, 143n.30 Jaspers, Karl, 38 Jehoahaz, 26–​27 Jehoiachin allegory and, 282, 354 exile in Babylon (see exile in Babylon) historical context, 18, 24, 28–​29 lineage of, 205n.12, 210 n.66 reign of, 94n.10 Jehoiakim, 18–​19, 26–​28 Jehoram, 19 Jehoshaphat, 19 Jehu, 19 Jeremiah (book) covenant in, Ezekiel compared, 266–​ 267, 268 ethics, Ezekiel compared, 513 literary traditions and, 114–​115 priestly tradition, Ezekiel compared, 296 restoration vision, Ezekiel compared, 475 trauma literature, Ezekiel compared, 437, 447 Jeremiah (prophet), 409, 420, 514 Jeroboam, 22 Jerome (Saint), 336–​338, 343 Jerusalem abandonment by Yhwh, 350 destruction of, 188, 191, 196–​199, 201, 307 election of, 263–​264 marriage metaphor, 263–​264 menstruation metaphor, 406–​407 restoration vision (see restoration vision) siege of, 20 societal disintegration in, 221 suspicion of Ezekiel regarding, 473, 477–​478 trauma, destruction of Jerusalem as, 437–​438 Jesus, 350, 354, 370 Jewish Theological Seminary Library, 377n.24 Jewish tradition, Ezekiel in generally, 362, 376 Ashkenazic circumcision liturgy, 367, 373, 375 canon, 376n.4

534   Index Jewish tradition (cont.) circumcision (see circumcision) dripping of wine, 371–​373 historical context and, 369–​371 Jacob, circumcision rules and, 373–​376 Maḥzor Vitry, 367–​368, 371–​372, 374, 376 Mekhilta de-​Rabbi Yishmael, 364–​366 midrashim, 363–​364, 372–​373 Mishnah, 362–​363 paschal lamb and, 364–​367 Pirke de-​Rabbi Eliezer, 366–​367, 374–​375 Talmud, 362–​363, 373–​374 Jezebel, 19 Joab, 393 Job, 444, 451 n.33 Johnson, Scott Fitzgerald, 493, 507 n.1 Jonathan, 431 Joseph, 358n.36, 468 Josephus, 333, 336, 341, 376 n.4 Joshua circumcision and, 366 New Temple Vision compared, 478 Josiah, 19, 22–​26 Joyce, Paul M., 8, 89, 237, 348, 483 n.12, 511 Judah downfall of, 19, 26–​29, 472 exile in Babylon (see exile in Babylon) Judah the Patriarch (Rabbi), 362 judgment prophecy, 85–​88 Jursa, Michael, 209n.54 Kaminsky, Joel S., 8 Kamionkowski, S. Tamar, 12, 432 Kang, Jina, 468n.8 Kara, Joseph, 372 Kasher, Rimon, 70, 485 n.24, 485 n.32 Kautzsch, Emil, 52n.68 Keel, Othmar, 7, 40, 49 n.41, 463–​465 Kelle, Brad E., 179n.11, 459, 468 Kimḥi, David, 250n.50, 443 kitchens of priests, 241 Klein, Anja, 515 Klein, Anna, 100n.100 Klostermann, August, 115, 297, 350, 358 n.26 Knohl, Israel, 3, 297 Kohn, Risa Levitt, 116 Konkel, Michael, 8

Korda, Andrea, 177n.1 Kovacs, Judith, 339–​340 Kraeling, Carl, 386–​388, 391, 393, 395 Kratz, Reinhard G., 93, 93 n.2 Kutsko, John F., 8, 53 n.81, 97 n.55, 98 n.62, 191, 211 n.80, 459 Lacan, Jacques, 516 Lachish, 20 land covenant, as central to, 302–​304 “he/​the land,” 131–​132 holiness infusing Yhwh’s own land, 304–​ 306, 309 n.7 Israelites as aliens in Yhwh’s land, 308n.2 redemption of, 269–​270n.14, 270 n.23 theophanic character of, 308n.3 Landersdorfer, Simon, 51n.59 Lang, Bernhard, 37 Lange, Armin, 169 Lapsley, Jacqueline E., 8, 270 n.20, 511 Launderville, Dale, 8, 512 Layard, Austen, 39 Lazarus, 354 legal tradition generally, 60 conditional (causistic) law, 61 Deuteronomy and, 68–​69 Holiness (H) source and, 71–​72 literary dependence and, 67–​72 obligations, benefits, and punishments, 65–​67 Pentateuch, similarities with, 62–​65 Priestly (P) source and, 69–​7 1 terminology and form, 60–​62 textualization, 67–​72 unconditional (apodictic) law, 60 Leningrad Codex, 128 leonine imagery, 192, 207 nn.35–​37 Leveen, Jacob, 393–​396 Levenson, Jon D., 8, 270–​271 n.24, 487–​488 n.51 Leviathan, 488–​489n.55 Levine, Baruch, 74n.22 Levites holiness and, 299–​302, 305 New Temple Vision, in, 241–​243, 247 n.14, 479, 485 n.28, 485 n.29

Index   535 priestly tradition generally, 295–​297 (see also priestly tradition) purification ceremony, 249n.49 Leviticus covenant and, 265 “glory of the Lord” in, 464 legal tradition and, 61, 65–​67, 70–​7 1 lexical analysis “appearance of,” 457–​458, 458f exile in Babylon, lexical evidence for, 190 “image,” 457 “likeness,” 457, 457f, 459 “something like,” 457–​459, 458f statistics of usage, 457–​460 visions, of, 457–​460 liberationist readings, 461 Lilly, Ingrid, 116 Lindsey, Hal, 334 lists, 169 literary art, 13 literary audience, 314, 323 literary traditions generally, 107–​109, 119 Babylon and, 110–​112 collaborative relationship, 108 design in, 112–​114 Deuteronomic (D/​Dt) source and, 115–​116 foreignness in, 109–​111 genre in, 112–​114 Holiness (H) source and, 115, 117–​118 Jeremiah and, 114–​115 literary art, 13 Masoretic Text (MT) and, 116–​117 material anchors, 108 Priestly (P) source and, 115–​116 Septuagint and, 116–​117 transformation in, 117–​119 trauma literature (see trauma literature) living creatures, vision of, 463, 486 n.39, 488–​489 n.55 logos, 150–​153 Loretz, Oswald, 36 Lot, 306 Lust, Johan, 116, 139, 484 n.19 Lyons, Michael A., 3–​4, 117, 265–​266, 297

Maarsingh, B., 37 MacDonald, Nathan, 297 Machinist, Peter, 171–​172 Mackinder, Halford, 501 Macuga, Goshka, 384 Macwilliam, Stuart, 404–​405, 424–​425, 432, 433 n.15 Magdalino, Paul, 336 Maḥzor Vitry, 367–​368, 371–​372, 374, 376 Maimonides, 363, 376 n.6 Mainz Anonymous, 371 Manasseh, 19, 21–​23, 36 Mandeville, John, 504 Mandolfo, Carleen R., 403–​404, 407 map making Babylon, in, 482–​483n.2 cartographical thinking (see cartographical thinking) colonialism and, 494–​495 Gog/​Magog, 342 imperial power, as instrument of, 492–​495 space in Ezekiel, mapping of, 473–​474 Marduk (Babylonian deity), 480, 482, 489 n.56, 489 n.57 marriage metaphor discourse level, communication at, 318 disgust and, 514–​515 embodiment and, 423–​424 gender instability in, 402–​405 gender rhetoric in, 402–​405 Jerusalem and, 263–​264 prophetic tradition, in, 83, 86–​88 Marzouk, Safwat, 7 masculinity compromised masculinity, 401, 408–​412 embodiment and, 431–​432 Masoretic Text (MT) generally, 128–​130 literary traditions and, 116–​117 Septuagint compared, 116–​117 Masson, Michael, 143n.41 Matia ben Heresh (Rabbi), 364–​365, 377 n.14 Mattaniah, 28 Mattathias, 393 Matthew, 350 Mayfield, Tyler, 176 McKeating, Henry, 486n.34

536   Index me‘at, 357n.24 Meier, Samuel, 314 Mein, Andrew, 8, 210 n.70, 357 n.16, 511, 519 Meissner, Bruno, 42 Mekhilta de-​Rabbi Yishmael, 187, 201 n.1, 364–​366 melammu, 420, 465 menstruation metaphor, 406–​407 mental illness, 350 Merchant, Carolyn, 502 merkavah. See chariot vision Merodach Baladan (Babylon), 19–​20 Meshech-​Tubal, oracle against, 135t, 498, 505 Mesopotamian context of Ezekiel generally, 34, 45 comparative studies, 34–​38 iconographic studies, 39–​40, 48 n.31 philological studies, 40–​45 metaphors adultery metaphor, 86–​88, 153–​154, 205–​206 n.18, 352, 423 marriage metaphor (see marriage metaphor) menstruation metaphor, 406–​407 prostitution metaphor, 86–​88, 153–​154 punishment, for, 514–​519 royal metaphor, 229 sin, for, 514–​519 #MeToo movement, 351 Meyers, Carol L., 9 Middlemas, Jill, 459 midrashim, 363–​364, 372–​373 Milgrom, Jacob, 300–​301, 305, 309 n.8, 488 n.52 millenarianism, 8, 335 Miller, John W., 114 Miller, Patrick D., 218 miqdash, 357n.24 Miriam, 353 Mishnah, 362–​363 Moab, oracle against, 288, 497 mohel, 367–​368 Moon, Warren, 387 Moore, Megan Bishop, 170–​171, 179 n.11 Mordechai, 387 Moses, 24, 171, 273 n.49, 387, 409, 428, 479 Mosis, R., 259

Motif of Divine Abandonment, 97n.55 Mount Seir, oracle against, 286, 289, 495–​497 Mroczek, Eva, 178–​179n.5, 180 n.21 Müller, David Heinrich, 35, 45–​46 n.2 Müller, Herta, 439 Murašu archive, 44, 194 mythology Combat Myth, 149, 161–​162 n.10 Gog/​Magog and, 331, 340–​343 mythos, 148–​149 nakedness, embodiment and, 430–​431 Naqi’a-​Zakutu (Assyria), 22 Narām-​Sin, 37 narrative rhetorical strategy and, 150–​151 written text, in, 170 nasi, 243–​245, 250 n.55, 250 n.57, 250 n.60, 250 n.61 nationalist readings, 461 Nebo-​polassar (Babylon), 23 Nebuchadnezzar II (Babylon) downfall of Judah and, 26–​29 etymology of, 44 exile in Babylon and, 194, 198 leonine imagery and, 207n.36 literary tradition and, 110–​111 New Temple Vision and, 480 Oracles Against the Nations and, 283, 286 politics and, 222–​223 rhetorical strategy and, 153, 157 trauma literature and, 446 Zedekiah and, 36, 256 Necho I (Egypt), 21, 25 Necho II (Egypt), 21, 25–​27 Nelson, Robert, 336 Nevader, Madhavi, 182n.51, 191, 206 n.29, 206 n.30, 286, 466–​467 New Temple Vision generally, 150, 237–​238, 245 communication and, 323 design of Temple, 245n.2, 247 n.13 ethics and, 517 Israelite kings and, 250n.63 Levites in, 241–​243, 247 n.14, 479, 485 n.28, 485 n.29 nasi in, 243–​245

Index   537 politics and, 221, 225–​227 preserving sanctity of Temple, 238–​239 priests in, 239–​241 sin and, 251n.72 Zadokite priests and, 479, 481 New Testament, Ezekiel and, 347 Niditch, Susan, 410, 415 n.38 Nihan, Christophe, 3–​4, 230 Nile River, 501–​502 Nissinen, Martti, 169 Noah, 260, 267, 270–​271 n.24 Nöldeke, Theodor, 42 nonverbal performance, 317 Numbers “glory of the Lord” in, 464 New Temple Vision compared, 478, 480 Occom, Samuel, 456 Odell, Margaret S., 6, 10, 28–​29, 70, 112–​113, 163 n.26, 280–​281, 415 n.30, 459, 486 n.39 Oholah, 38, 280, 406, 424–​425, 429–​430 Oholibah, 38, 280–​281, 406, 424–​425, 429–​430 O’Kane, Martin, 385 Old Greek (OG) translation, 129–​130 Oracles Against the Nations Ammonites, 292n.18, 497–​498 Assyria, 498 cartographical thinking in, 495–​499 context of Ezekiel, in, 481 cosmic tree oracle, 501–​502 Cush, 503 Edom, 497–​498 Egypt, 286–​289, 430, 495, 498–​504, 506 Elam, 498 geographic ordering of, 493–​495 global moral order and, 498 Gog/​Magog, 495–​497, 504–​507 imperial registers and, 495–​504 Meshech-​Tubal, 135t, 498, 505 Moab, 288, 497 Mount Seir, 286, 289, 495–​497 Philistines, 497 Sidon, 498 Tyre, 3, 44, 109, 111, 191, 223, 286–​288, 430, 495, 497, 499–​501, 504, 506 “us” versus “them” paradigm in, 497–​499 oral/​written dichotomy, 177n.2

Origen, 337 “overflowing abundance,” 446–​447 Pae, David, 334–​335, 344 n.3 pain, embodiment and, 429–​430 Paradise Genesis compared, 475–​476 restoration vision, in, 475–​476, 487–​488 n.51 Parker, Richard A., 148 Parrot, André, 39 paschal lamb, 364–​367 Paschal Vigil, 353 Passover, 365, 377 n.23 pastoral approaches to Ezekiel generally, 347 grace, 348–​350 presence of Yhwh, 349–​350 repentance, 348–​349 Revised Common Lectionary and, 353–​355 trauma, surviving, 350–​351 women and, 351–​353 Yhwh-​centeredness, 348 pathos, 153–​155 Patton, Corrine L., 109, 405, 414–​415 n.29 Paul, Shalom, 43 peace, covenant of, 261–​262 Pearce, Laurie E., 193, 195, 209 n.53, 209 n.57 Pekah, 19 Pentateuch ancestor traditions, 308n.1 legal tradition, similarities with, 62–​65 Pentecost, 354–​355 Perles, Felix, 42 perlocutionary effect, 325–​326 Peterson, Brian Neil, 296–​297 Petter, Donna Lee, 113 Peutinger Table, 493 Pharisees, 376n.4 Philistines oracle against, 497 witness to Yhwh’s holiness, 285 Phillips, Richard, 501 philological studies, 40–​45 Phinehas, 260, 270–​271 n.24 Phoenicia, 20 phronēsis, 151 Pickering, Andrew, 108, 119

538   Index Pikor, Wojciech, 303, 308 n.3, 308–​309 n.4, 309 n.9, 309 n.14 Pirke de-​Rabbi Eliezer, 366–​367, 374–​375 Plane, Ann Marie, 455–​456 plot, rhetorical strategy and, 148–​149 Poem of Erra, 6, 36–​38, 112, 191–​192 Pohlmann, Karl-​Friedrich, 3, 81, 84, 94 n.12, 96 n.43 politics and Ezekiel generally, 231 Babylon and, 222–​223, 228 David and, 225 defined, 219 domestic politics, 221–​223 Ezekiel on politics, 219–​227 Gog/​Magog and, 330–​331, 333–​336 Holiness (H) source and, 221 international politics, 223–​224 nature of rule, 229–​230 New Temple Vision and, 221, 225–​227 palimpsestic restoration, 227, 231–​232 n.1 political future, 224–​227 political givens, 220 political language, 227–​229 political past, 224 political present, 220–​224 politics of Ezekiel, 227–​230 prophecy and, 218–​219 royal metaphor in, 229 royal terminology in, 228 sovereignty topoi in, 228 theology and theory, 230–​231 pornographic imagery, 38, 347, 352, 363, 402, 404, 423–​424 Poser, Ruth, 10, 161 n.8, 162 n.15, 162 n.17 postcolonial approaches to Ezekiel generally, 511 cartographical thinking and, 495 cross-​cultural contact and, 460–​461, 468 geography and, 495 shame and, 517–​519 trauma and, 2, 10 power, embodiment and, 427–​428 presence of Yhwh exile in Babylon, divine presence and abandonment in, 200–​201

pastoral approaches to, 349–​350 sanctuary, in, 84–​85 Priestly (P) source Deuteronomic (D/​Dt) source compared, 115–​116 ethics and, 512 legal tradition and, 69–​7 1 literary traditions and, 115–​116 priestly tradition generally, 296, 301–​303, 306–​308 priestly tradition generally, 295–​297 ancestor traditions, neglect of, 306–​308 Deuteronomic (D/​Dt) source (see Deuteronomic (D/​Dt) source) holiness as life force, 299–​302 Holiness (H) source (see Holiness (H) source) holiness infusing Yhwh’s own land, 304–​ 306, 309 n.7 Jeremiah compared, 296 land as central to covenant, 302–​304 Priestly (P) source (see Priestly (P) source) prophetic legenda, Ezekiel as, 297–​299 priests Babylon, in, 240–​243 clothing of, 240–​241, 249 n.35 hairstyle of, 240, 248–​249 nn.27–​29, 410 kitchens of, 241 New Temple Vision, in, 239–​241 shaving of, 240, 249 n.34 “prophetic book,” 178–​179n.5 prophetic text, 167–​168 prophetic tradition generally, 77–​78 adultery metaphor and, 86–​88 “coming end” in, 85–​86 congregation, 78–​80 deity, 84–​85 divine action in history, 85–​92 dramatis personae, 78–​85 ethics and responsibility, 88–​89 Ezekiel as heir of, 92–​93 foreign nations and, 288–​289 gender and, 407–​410 Gog/​Magog and, 331–​333 golah (community) and, 79

Index   539 judgment prophecy, 85–​88 marriage metaphor and, 83, 86–​88 politics and, 218–​219 prophets, 81–​84 rebellious house and, 79–​80 salvation prophecy, 89–​92 sanctuary, presence of Yhwh in, 84–​85 scroll swallowing and, 81 signs and, 82–​84 watchmen and, 81–​82 written text, Ezekiel as, 167–​168 prophets historical Ezekiel as, 81–​84, 297–​299, 481 in prophetic tradition, 81–​84 prostitution metaphor, 86–​88, 153–​154 Protestant Reformation, 24 Psamtek I (Egypt), 21 Pseudo-​Methodius, 341–​343 pty/​h, 270n.18 Pulp Fiction (film), 384 queer theory embodiment and, 424–​425, 431–​432, 433 n.15 gender and, 405, 411, 413–​414 n.13 Qumran scrolls, 128–​130, 178 n.3, 340 Rashi (Rabbi Solomon ben Isaac), 43, 139, 143 n.38, 367, 377 n.13 reading level, communication at, 323–​326 appointed messenger, 324 Ben Adam and, 324–​325 bypassed messenger, 323 Final Temple Vision and, 323 implied reader, 314, 325–​326 invited messenger, 325–​326 latent messenger in liminality, 324–​325 literary audience, 314, 323 perlocutionary effect, 325–​326 “voice in the air,” 323 Reagan, Ronald, 333 real geographies, 504–​506 rebellious house, 79–​80, 320 redaction, 2–​4, 79–​80, 151–​152, 246 n.5 redemption of land, 269–​270n.14, 270 n.23 Redford, D. B., 148 reduction, 2–​4

Reeves, Marjorie, 341, 344 “Reign of Christ,” 353 Reimer, David J., 230 Rendtorff, Rolf, 260, 265, 269 n.9, 272 n.38 Renz, Thomas, 13, 118, 324 repentance, 348–​349 reporting, 315–​316 representation, 315–​316 resistant readings, 461 restoration vision context of Ezekiel, in, 474, 481–​482 David and, 225 deviation from established tradition, 480–​481 exile in Babylon, hopes for restoration and return in, 202 forced repatriation, as, 474–​476, 482 foreign nations and, 287–​288 Isaiah compared, 475 Jeremiah compared, 475 new covenant in, 475, 484 n.19 palimpsestic restoration, 227, 231–​232 n.1 Paradise in, 475–​476, 487–​488 n.51 renaming of Jerusalem in, 477, 484–​485 n.20 river in, 484n.14 Temple area in, 478–​481, 483 n.3 (see also New Temple Vision) urban space in, 477–​478 utopian nature of, 473–​474, 482 resymbolization, 438–​439, 441–​448 retribution, conceptions of and exile in Babylon, 203 Revised Common Lectionary, 353–​355 Reynolds, Nedra, 507n.2 rhetorical strategy in Ezekiel generally, 147–​148, 160–​161 adultery metaphor, 153–​154 argument, 150–​153 “coming end” and, 157–​160 contradiction, 152–​153 credibility, 149–​150 death and, 157–​160 emotion, 153–​155 ethos, 149–​150 hubris and, 155–​157 logos, 150–​153

540   Index rhetorical strategy in Ezekiel (cont.) marriage metaphor, gender rhetoric in, 402–​405 mythos, 148–​149 narrative, 150–​151 pathos, 153–​155 plot, 148–​149 prostitution metaphor, 153–​154 Robson, James, 8, 313–​314, 325 Rofé, Alexander, 172, 179 n.10, 180 n.22 Rom-​Shiloni, Dalit, 10, 11, 114–​115, 209–​210 n.59, 258, 321 Roth, Pinchas, 377n.24 Rowland, Christopher, 339–​340 royal metaphor, 229 royal terminology, 228 rû’aḥ, 8, 150, 159, 162 n.15, 442 Rudnig, Thilo Alexander, 8, 84 Ruether, Rosemary Radford, 370 sacrificial sheep imagery, 484n.17 Said, Edward W., 494–​495 salvation prophecy, 89–​92 Samaria, 424 Samuel, 298, 387 sanctuary, presence of Yhwh in, 84–​85 Sarah, 307 Sargon II (Assyria), 20 Satan, 330, 338, 340, 343 Saul, 431 Schenk, Kära, 386–​388, 397 Schmid, Konrad, 67 Schöpflin, Karin, 96n.41 Schultz, Richard, 117 Schwartz, Baruch, 309n.10, 475, 483 n.11 scribal expansions (Fortschreibungen) generally, 130 “and I will turn you around and I will put hooks in your jaws,” 135–​136 coherence, increasing, 131 “embittered,” 131 Ezekiel, coordinating texts with, 133–​136, 134t, 135t “he/​the land,” 131–​132 “I made it beautiful,” 132 “image of reptile and beast,” 136–​137 “like the sound of the almighty,” 133

“not without reason,” 133–​135 other scriptural texts, coordinating texts with, 136–​140, 137t “their silver and their gold will not be able to deliver them in the day of Yhwh’s wrath,” 137–​138 “to do to them this calamity,” 133–​135 scribal practice, 4–​6 scroll swallowing, 81, 443–​444, 450–​451 n.30, 450 n.25, 450 n.28 Searle, John, 325 Sed-​Rajna, Gabrielle, 393–​394 self-​blame, 351 Selle, Friedrich, 42 Semprún, Jorge, 439 Sennacherib (Assyria), 20–​21, 23, 30 n.9, 36, 336 Septuagint, 116–​117 sexual imagery, 38 Shalmaneser III (Assyria), 19 Shamash-​shum-​ukin (Babylon), 21–​23 shame exile in Babylon and, 270n.20 gender and, 12, 271 n.30, 406, 414 n.24 postcolonial shame, 517–​519 Shaphan, 27 Sharp, Joanne, 494, 503, 504 shaving of priests, 240, 249 n.34 shepherd imagery, 173 Shields, Mary E., 9, 402–​403, 410–​412, 414 n.21, 414 n.24 Sibylline Oracles, 340 Sidon, oracle against, 498 signs, 82–​84 Simḥah ben Samuel of Vitry (Rabbi), 367 Sin-​iddinia-​apla (Assyria), 22 Smend, Rudolf, 41, 114 Smith, Jonathan Z., 226 Smith, Mark, 486n.39 Smith-​Christopher, Daniel, 350–​352, 358 n.30, 429 Sobek (Egyptian deity), 190 sociological evidence for exile in Babylon, 196–​199 Sodom, 424 sojourners, 290n.5, 303 Solomon, 248n.21

Index   541 Solomonic Temple, 245n.1, 479 Sommer, Benjamin D., 420 sovereignty topoi, 228 space in Ezekiel. See also geography in Ezekiel generally, 473 deviation from established tradition, 480–​481 mapping of, 473–​474 Paradise, 475–​476, 487–​488 n.51 restoration vision (see restoration vision) Temple area, 478–​481, 483 n.3 (see also New Temple Vision) urban space, 477–​478 walled cities and, 476–​478 Spanish Armada, 501 Spicer, Edward, 461 Spiegel, Steven, 42 Stacy, David, 313 Stavrakopoulou, Francesca, 505–​506 Steck, Odil H., 95n.19 Steinberg, Faith, 388 Stevenson, Kalinda Rose, 357n.21, 485 n.29 Stock, Brian, 177n.2 Stökl, Jonathan, 5, 191, 460, 465–​466 “strange,” use of term, 48n.29 Strine, Casey, 272n.45, 309 n.5 Stromberg, Jake, 137–​138 Stulman, Louis, 437 Sugirtharajah, R. S., 460–​462 Sweeney, Marvin A., 70, 116–​117, 298 Syro-​Ephraimitic War, 19 Taharqa (Egypt), 21 Talmud, 362–​363, 373–​374 Tamar, 444 Tammuz, 289–​290n.1, 397, 422 Tarantino, Quentin, 384 Targums, 117, 139, 143 n.36, 187, 201 n.2, 340, 357 n.24 Tarlin, Jan, 428 Tel Aviv, exile in, 189, 195, 199, 350 tēlītu (tax payment), 248n.26 temples Babylon, in, 241, 244, 251 n.68 Closed Temple, 387 First Temple Vision, 150, 157–​158

New Temple Vision (see New Temple Vision) Tertullian, 398 textual issues in Ezekiel generally, 128, 140–​141 “and I will turn you around and I will put hooks in your jaws,” 135–​136 coherence, expansions increasing, 131 developing text, 140–​141 “embittered,” 131 Ezekiel, expansions coordinating texts with, 133–​136, 134t, 135t “he/​the land,” 131–​132 “I made it beautiful,” 132 “image of reptile and beast,” 136–​137 “like the sound of the almighty,” 133 manuscript differences, 129t “not without reason,” 133–​135 Old Greek (OG) translation, 129–​130 other scriptural texts, expansions coordinating texts with, 136–​140, 137t Qumran scrolls, 128–​130 scribal expansions (Fortschreibungen) generally, 130 “their silver and their gold will not be able to deliver them in the day of Yhwh’s wrath,” 137–​138 “to do to them this calamity,” 133–​135 thematic studies, 7–​8 theodicy, 201 Theodore Synkellos, 334–​336, 343 Theodoret of Cyrus, 336–​337, 343 theology exile in Babylon, theological evidence for, 199–​203 Gog/​Magog and, 331, 336–​340 grace and, 348–​350 theophany, 419–​420 Thucydides, 171–​173 Tiemeyer, Lena-​Sofia, 319, 459–​460 Tiglath-​pileser III (Assyria), 19, 35 Tobit, 468 Tooman, William A., 118, 211 n.74 Torczyner, Harry, 42 Torrey, C. C., 42, 188, 196 torture, embodiment and, 429–​430 Tournay, Raymond, 43

542   Index Toy, Crawford H., 45–​46n.2 transformation in literary traditions, 117–​119 Trapp, John, 338, 344 n.5 trauma literature generally, 10, 437, 447–​448 constriction symptoms, 438 “cup of wrath” and, 445 destruction of Jerusalem as trauma, 437–​438 desymbolization, 438–​439, 441–​448 discharging and, 445–​446 eating and drinking and, 442–​443 everyday fare and, 446–​447 exile in Babylon as trauma, 437–​438 Ezekiel in context of trauma, 437–​439 Gog/​Magog and, 446 guilt, 439–​441 interpretations of, 447–​448 intrusion symptoms, 438 Jeremiah compared, 437, 447 obliterating from earth and, 445–​446 “overflowing abundance” and, 446–​447 performances of eating and drinking and, 444–​445 postcolonial approaches to Ezekiel and, 2, 10–​11 resymbolization, 438–​439, 441–​448 rû’ah and, 442 scroll swallowing and, 443–​444, 450–​451 n.30, 450 n.25, 450 n.28 surviving trauma, pastoral approaches to, 350–​351 torture and, 429 visions and, 468 tree of healing, 192 Tsevat, Matithu, 36 Tucker, Paavo, 271n.32 Tuell, Steven S., 8, 488 n.52 Tyre Babylon and, 18, 20, 29 destruction of, 500–​501 dirge over, 155–​157 economic power of, 500–​501 geography of, 499–​501 oracle against, 3, 44, 109, 111, 191, 223, 286–​288, 430, 495, 497, 499–​501, 504, 506

Uehlinger, Christoph, 40, 192, 460, 463–​465, 467 uncleanliness, 406, 414 n.24, 516–​517 “unholy” scripture, 9–​10 urban space, 477–​478 Urim and Thummin, 352 Ut-​napištim (Babylon), 36 Vanderhooft, David, 111, 462 van Dijk-​Hemmes, Fokkelien, 404 van Hoonacker, Albin, 42 Vayntrub, Jacqueline, 177n.1 verbal performance, 316–​317 Vincent, Markus, 398 Vision of Ezekiel (Bomberg), 384 visions in Ezekiel chariot (see chariot vision) “comparative gaze,” 462 dreams compared, 455–​456 Dry Bones Vision (see Dry Bones Vision) First Temple Vision, 150, 157–​158 “glory of the Lord,” 464–​465 iconographic analysis of, 463–​467 Inaugural Vision, 150, 463 lexical analysis of, 457–​460 living creatures, 463, 486 n.39, 488–​489 n.55 mysterious nature of, 467–​468 New Temple Vision (see New Temple Vision) restoration vision (see restoration vision) trauma literature and, 468 visual exegesis, 384–​385, 387 Vogt, Ernst, 49n.35, 49 n.42 von Rad, Gerhard, 348 von Soden, Wolfram, 41 Waerzeggers, Caroline, 208n.46, 208 n.48, 209 n.55, 240 walled cities, 476–​478 Walzer, Michael, 231 Warren, Nathanael, 483n.4 watchmen, 81–​82 Weems, Renita J., 9 Weidner, Ernst F., 194 Wellhausen, Julius, 67, 73 n.11, 93 n.3 Wesley, John, 349 Westermann, Claus, 114

Index   543 West-​Pavlov, Russell, 496 Wharton, Annabel, 391–​392, 399 n.17 Wiebe, Joseph, 177n.1 Williamson, H. G. M., 143n.30 Wilson, Ian D., 4, 5, 227 Wilson, Robert R., 115–​116, 270 n.19, 296–​297 Winitzer, Abraham, 38, 110–​111, 191 witchcraft, 352–​353 women. See also gender, Ezekiel and adultery metaphor, 86–​88, 153–​154, 205–​206 n.18, 352, 423 divination and, 352 embodiment of female bodies, 422–​424 marriage metaphor (see marriage metaphor) pastoral approaches to, 351–​353 violence against, 347, 431 witchcraft and, 352–​353 Wong, Ka Leung, 265–​266, 271 n.29, 273 n.54 written text, Ezekiel as generally, 166 analytical text, 171–​175 archive, 175–​177, 182 n.59 chronological framing of, 170 formulaic statements in, 169–​170 historiographic text, 168–​171, 182 n.59 lists in, 169 oral/​written dichotomy, 177n.2 prophetic text, 167–​168

Wunsch, Cornelia, 193, 195, 209 n.54, 209 n.57 Xerxes (Persia), 45 Yee, Gale A., 9, 403–​404, 412, 413 n.11 Yitzhak Nappaha (Rabbi), 394, 396 Yom Kippur, 369 Zadok, 113, 479 Zadokite priests historical Ezekiel as, 170, 247 n.18, 414 n.25 legal tradition and, 65, 71 New Temple Vision and, 479, 481 other priests distinguished, 239–​240, 242–​243, 247 n.14, 248 n.21 priestly tradition generally, 295–​308 (see also priestly tradition) rhetorical strategy and, 159–​160 Zarephath, 298, 387 Zebudah, 26 Zechariah, 459–​460 Zedekiah, 19, 28, 189, 196, 222, 256, 282, 518 Zimmerli, Walther, 2–​3, 43, 52 n.68, 70–​7 1, 81, 84, 92, 94 n.11, 96–​97 n.48, 109, 115, 130, 136–​137, 210–​211 n.73, 259, 265, 269 n.10, 298, 307, 313, 485 n.27, 502, 505 Zimmern, Heinrich, 42 Zipporah, 367